#still so bitter about 1st season ending

[scr-ppup]

Mm .. harmless Impulsive thoughts be like can the cosmos create a yarn wig for the event next week or not? *Two hours later* just finished braiding one of the yarn braids .. now to work on the face frame side pieces of the wi—

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {1}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: A little crack!fic as a driver!reader who is Max's little half-sister. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, protective big brother, sibling antics, daddy issues. WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

There was nothing that irked you more than being called a Verstappen. Yes, you were Max’s sister, but that was where the relationship with the name ended. Your sperm donor, as you publicly referred to Jos, had never been a part of your life and that was one blessing you were thankful for. 

Somehow the bastard's genetics had won and that stupid racer’s blood ran in your veins. You liked to go fast. Your mother said that you could run before you could walk and the same went for driving. At 17 years old you had your super licence before your drivers licence, making it legal to drive at 200 mph around a circuit with insane corners but not 30 mph on the street.

Something about that seemed…odd.

It was worth it in the end. You could still remember the look on Jos’ face when you signed for Alpha Tauri. Oh, how the bastard had tried to credit himself with your achievement. But there were more similarities that you shared with your half sibling than you were willing to admit. One of those shared traits was brutal honesty. And you had let your honest thoughts fly when Jos opened his mouth.

Three years later the sperm donor was still bitter. He would surely have to get used to it, especially since you had just been named as a Red Bull driver, alongside Max.

Round One - Bahrain 2022 “This is a historical first, siblings racing together on the same team,” Ted Kravitz said as he walked along the pit, stopping outside Red Bull’s garage. “The two Verstappen's will be fighting each other for the Driver Championship, once again, while simultaneously working together to win the Constructors Championship. A very, very exciting season ahead I can already tell.”

You had been pulling your helmet on, about to climb into the RB18 when you heard the comment. The short temper you were well known for flared and you sauntered into the pit lane. “Hey, Ted Crapitz,” you called out as he stood writing in that little notepad of his.

He looked up a little stunned and his eyes darted at the camera that was always following him around. “It’s, uh, Kravitz.”

“Oh, my apologies, I thought it was just normal to make up offensive surnames. No?” you asked as you arched an eyebrow at him. “Because Verstappen isn’t mine, so don’t ever call me that again.”

“S-sorry, my mistake,” he stammered, but you were already shoving your helmet on and grabbing the halo to climb into your car. “A bit of a slap on the wrist for me there.”

You had no doubt that the video would go viral and the comments would call you a bitch but you didn’t care. Jos was a piece of shit and your mother didn’t raise you all on her own, working two jobs to pay for your karting years, just for you to be called a fucking Verstappen.

There was no better feeling than pulling out of the garage and heading to the track. The finely tuned car purred beneath you and you could feel the restrained power of it just waiting for you to pass the pit marker so you could push the throttle and free the beast you had worked hard to control.

“Radio check,” your engineer, Nicholas, ordered through the headset.

“Tell big bro to keep his mouth closed during the race. It can’t be healthy to eat my dust.” 

“Understood.”

The jeroboam size bottle of Ferrari Trento looked enormous in your hands as you shook it up and sprayed Charles and Carlos back after drenching you first. You may have been on the bottom step of the podium but you celebrated as if you had taken 1st place. Turning the bottle on the crowd, you spotted Max at the front with a wide grin on his face as he cheered with the rest of Red Bull. 

It was a little disappointing that he had DNF’d but there was always next week to battle it out again. In the meantime you enjoyed the adrenaline of the podium finish and the image of Jos standing to the side with a face like a slapped ass. It was a feeling you could definitely get used to.

Round Eleven - Great Britain 2022 The leaderboard changed almost every week, flipping like hotcakes between you and Max. It was labelled as sibling rivalry, and for once the media got it right. Though you hadn’t grown up with Max there was an innate need to know who was better, who could push the limits harder and who could get away with it. Some weeks it was you, some weeks it wasn’t. It was all part of the fun. 

Fun. Now that was something that came in spades. The camaraderie that came with the competitiveness was always something you enjoyed moving up from F3 and F2 before reaching F1. With only 19 other people sharing the same experience with you, it was impossible not to grow close to them. 

“Can you let Max in front today?” Lando asked as you walked along the grid. “Please?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because he’d rather look at your ass than Max’s, if he can hold third place.” You turned to the other McLaren driver to see a grin splitting the Australian’s face. 

“Aww, Lando, the real English gentleman,” you tutted sarcastically as you pulled your balaclava off your shoulder and snickered when it slapped Lando across the back of his head.

“Unnecessary violence, Spitfire,” he gasped before muttering under his breath, “I know who you get that from.”

A growl pulled back your lips and you punched him none too softly in the bicep, which was a double edged sword because it was far harder than you were expecting and you felt the hit in your knuckles. 

“Oh, Lando, Lando, Lando,” Daniel chuckled as he walked off to his car. “When are you going to learn?”

“You know the car goes faster with less weight,” Lando said as he rubbed his arm.

“Yeah, so?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “All that baggage you carry is weighing you down.”

“Well, that’s just stupid, metaphors weigh nothing...” You pulled your balaclava over your face as you walked from the second row to the front where the two Red Bulls were parked side by side. 

“Hey Lan,” you called out as you turned back with the urge to lighten the mood after he had looked crestfallen. “Don’t get too excited when I warm up my tires, that’s not me shaking my ass for you.”

You could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle with a smile that was hidden by the balaclava he pulled on. “A lad can dream, Spitfire.”

You had earned the nickname of Spitfire from dog-fighting your way to the front of the pack and it was one you were proud of, it certainly beat being called a bitch day in and day out. 

“Just keep it to your dreams, yeah? I’m already paying too much for therapy.”

“You can talk about your daddy issues later,” Max interrupted, tossing your helmet into your waiting hands. “Get in your car, zusje.”

You grinned to yourself as the formation lap began and you started weaving across the track to warm your tires. All Lando would be able to think about was your ass as the rear wing swayed side to side and the thought of made you laugh since you lived to torment the guys on and off the track.

“Radio check.”

“I can’t wait to show everyone the upgrades.”

“Understood.” There was a pause before Nicholas returned. “Uh, you weren’t scheduled for any upgrades.”

Your start was terrible as Max flew away at lights out and then you were nearly clipped in the first turn by Lando, the swerve you took to avoid a collision letting Charles slip straight past.

“DRS activated this lap.”

You passed the starting line on the heels of Charles, Lando close behind but not close enough to use DRS just yet. The Ferrari was quick but he was out of Max’s DRS range and your straight line speed was far superior, it was only a matter of time before you reached the first DRS zone and made your move to overtake. 

“Did you just use indicators?”

You laughed as you hit the buttons on your console before pulling out of the slipstream, the rear wing opened to reduce the drag, and flew past the red car. You hit the new button the electrical engineer had rewired before pulling in front of Charles and laughed as you saw the replay on the big screens around the circuit.

“It’s only polite to indicate when overtaking. Have you never read the road code?”

“I’m more worried about the FIA regulations than the road code.”

“You worry too much, Christian can afford a little fine.”

“£150,000 for a laugh! Are you taking the mick outta me?”

You tried to keep a serious face as you faced Christian but one look at Max’s amusement had a smile cracking through. 

“No, you don’t get to laugh about this,” Christian snapped, pulling your attention back to him. “You too, Max. It’s like having a couple of fucking children around here.”

“It was nothing to do with me,” Max argued. “I would never pull a stunt like that.”

“You have something on your nose,” you said as you pointed and he wiped at it. “Nope, still brown.”

His lip twitched before he snickered and playfully shoved your shoulder. 

A heavy sigh of disappointment filled the private room in the motorhome and you both looked at Christian. “With Max winning last year we are going to be under even more scrutiny, and this sort of behaviour isn’t going to earn us any favours. Cut the shit out and pay the fucking fine.”

You started to open your mouth to point out the fine was charged to Red Bull not you but a sharp elbow from Max had you clamming your lips closed again. 

“She’ll be better behaved,” Max promised with a glare that warned you to stay silent to save yourself from lying.

“Fine, get out there before the interviews are finished.”

You were never a fan of the post-race interviews but you left Christian’s office like it was lights out, racing ahead of Max to get to the media pit. 

You skidded to a halt at the side of the stage and Charles patted the empty space between him and Lando just as Max arrived. The other space on the couch was at the end beside Lance and you looked at Max with narrowed eyes before making a break for the better seat. Lando had to jump aside as you slammed into the seat just before Max but it didn’t stop him from planting himself on top and you groaned at the weight.

“Second place again, Max Emillian,” you wheezed as you tried to push him off and looked at Charles. “A little help?”

“Sorry, there are universal rules: we can’t interfere with sibling rivalries,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Arthur’s my favourite Leclerc.”

Max took full advantage while you were distracted, staring daggers at Charles, and shoved you aside to take the cushioned seat with a smarmy grin. “Remember, best behaviour,” he warned as he got comfortable and accepted the microphone handed to you.

He should have known that the challenge couldn’t go unanswered and so you stood up, but you weren’t admitting defeat. His smile fell when you sat down on Lando’s lap, much to everyone’s surprise. 

“Hands off my sister, Norris,” Max quipped, but Lando’s hands were still in the air from where he froze, not knowing what to do with them or where to put them.

“This is quite comfy,” you noted as you wriggled around. “Maybe this can be my spot every week.”

“Fuck, fine,” Max growled as he stood up and walked down the line to sit with Lance. “Take the fucking seat.”

Charles laughed as you slipped into the seat and he held his fist out. “Everytime.”

You bumped his fist and smirked as the interviews finally got underway. “Every damn time.”

Click here for part two.

[lol-jackles]

do you really believe that jared is a better actor than jensen?

specially in the l few seasons?

his name is the first on the call sheet” you guys go around with this like it’s his saving grace , jennifer aniston’s name was the first but if it weren’t for characters like Monica and Chandler no one would have watched that show .

I don’t have anything against jared , but his fans are so bitter and they can’t praise him without belittling jensen,his acting, his looks, his wife, or even his a*s

body shaming him won’t make jared better.

I’m sorry you had a rough time with jensen’s bitter stans , but boy oh boy try seeing jared bitter stans talk about jensen (without engaging) with them , you could physically taste their hate

Jared is a character actor. People like to say character actors are "better actors" than personality actors, however there is a reason why character actors are usually not leads in movies or tv shows because most people actually prefer personality actors, which Jensen is good at. Jared is a character actor trapped in a leading man role.

Jared's first on the call sheet isn't a saving grace, it's facts, and it gets brought up more by Ackles Army than Jared fans. Why? Butthurts, Anon, all butthurts. You got to read this treasure. In the early days of SPN, AAs tried to downplayed first billings ....

AAs 2005: “The only reason why this Jared guy has first billing is because the ‘a’ in Jared comes before the ‘e’ in Jensen.”   

AAs 2007: "Jared only got first billings because he was better known thanks to Gilmore Girls."

AAs 2008: "Jensen is the real star, this credit order business only happened because of their agents, and Jensen's agent was asleep at the wheel."

AAs 2009: "Billing order is of no importance, both Jensen and Jared have top billings."

AAs 2011 through 2017: “Jared has top billings only because the ‘a’ in Jared comes before the ‘e’ in Jensen.”

Newbie fans: "But doesn't Ackles comes before Padalecki in the alphabet?"

AAs: "Shut up Jared stans! Why do you hate Dean so much?!"

AAs 2021: "Dean was originally supposed to die by the end of the 1st season, that's the only reason why Jared's name was first".

The bitter AAs hate that the first billing t hing because it was evidence of Jared’s success at an earlier age than Jensen’s.   The only reason why Jared’s fans bring up his first billing because they know how much it needles and aggravates the AAs who just won't let it go and keep bringing it up, if not more than the Jared girls do.

Jared fans stay in their lane when they're on a bash bender and don’t actively tag actors and their fans their hate. AAs (and Destiel hellers) aggressively and relentlessly tag Jared and his fans their hate. See the difference? AAs, minions, and hellers would go into Jared’s SM to send threats of violence and even death. Jared fans don't return the favor and stay out of actors' SM. Sure they’ll take screenshots to laugh about it in their own TL or blogs and tag it “anti”, but again they’re not sending their hate directly to Jensen. See the difference?

I've never body shamed Jensen what the hell are you talking about?

Whenever Anons tell me that Jared fans are just as bad as AAs and hellers, I always ask for receipts. I'm still waiting for them to pony up the receipts years later. Anon, you could be the first! I'll be right here waiting for your receipts of Jared fans sending public threats of violence and death to Jensen on twitter, intagram, and tick tock. You know your mission, now go!

[insipid-drivel]

i do actually want to hear the story about why you licked a salt lick tho

I thought you'd never ask.

I've always been a bog-baby. I am not joking that there have been times where I've had to paddle my way to my bus stop at the end of my driveway in an honest-to-god canoe. Aside from flood season, that left us with a lot of land to ourselves, and my mom always loved horses and wanted to raise me around them, too. My first job was as a stable hand working with horses at a teaching/therapy ranch for kids and people with special needs. It was awesome and I miss it all the time. Seriously AMA about that stuff because I have stories.

So, in order to raise a horse, you have to have a paddock. Fence? Check. My mom erected an entire wooden fence on her own and got absolutely jacked that year while simultaneously fielding pre-Y2K teleconferences from around the world.

Yep, my mom was on the team at Intel that was responsible for keeping Y2K from happening. She was the owner of the projects tasked with reprogramming Microsoft firmware with updated timestamps for major corporations, governments, and private users around the world. That's why shit didn't hit the fan. You're here, on this website, right this second, in part because of her. I lost a lot of time in my early childhood with her so the lights stayed on and the Internet still worked on January 1st, 2000.

So, imagine Houston basically talking to the Apollo crew during a major crisis while Houston is hanging out in a field digging post holes and grunting into the phone at you because yeehaw. She was getting herself a goddamned pony after that lunacy.

Anyway, so after our property is fixed up for a horse, she starts putting up the real comfort-goods a horse needs to be happy. Horses tend to love salt licks because they do indeed crave The Mineral. Back then, salt licks came in these big, pinkish cubes you put in a metal frame and nailed to a fence post or a tree - wherever. I had no idea what they were and like a kid does, my instant impulse was "I wanna lick it."

Have you ever looked back and reflected on your childhood and realized your parents were 100% fucking with you? I have.

"Go ahead. It's just salt," she said to me when I asked her if it was safe for people, too.

So I walk up to the tree my mom has affixed this salt lick to and stick out my tongue.

The nanosecond-and-a-half that the very tip of my tongue touched that thing was like being struck face-first by a lightning bolt of regret. It was horrible. I had never tasted anything so horrendously salty and bitter in my life (if you know what I mean) and all I could hear over my own retching was my mom pissing herself laughing.

Anyway so Y2K was real and our horse's name was Flamenco.

[johnshis]

Read Batman: The Impostor this weekend. After putting it off for so long, I think it's only obvious I share my thoughts in the last social media I uphold.

It has risen second in my painful lists of favorites. I think there's something so crude about showing a character whose heart is just an open wound. And this takes the cake for me.

I think what the general public mistakes about him would be solved if this was one of the leading comics they read on him. Though I know there's complexity in canon discussions, what matters to me the most is how good the story is being written and told. Primary points of discussion on Batman are tackled, and there's a lot more rawness that people often disregard on him. I haven't read every Batman comic in existence, so don't be a snob and talk to me about which is better. I don't care, this is not a book club.

I don't kill people. Batman does not kill people. That's the phrase that stood out the most, because in these last years, we've seen a rise in the idea that Batman is weak because he does not end the life of the "bad people" and instead believes that people can be rehabilitated. It's the running gag that people think it'll be easier if he just killed Joker for once. When confronted by the idea that he's got blood in his hands, he becomes utterly devastated, a wreck of a man.

Not only does Batman's no kill rule make utter sense to those who are emotionally mature enough to read books that aren't for 1st graders, but in the outlook of a realistic view it's also accurate. Anyone who's ever read any theory on the concept of justice and how the system that's been set up to us manages it is going to understand that one less life doesn't mean one less bad man on the street. The bad men are still running for the mayor, and for positions of power.

In the concept of love within the story, I thought it was cute that Bruce actually fell for Blair. Though it made it more so clear how broken of a person he actually is, this was pointed out on how he could only regulate his emotions when she was with him. How he only felt "peace" when he wasn't alone but with someone who shared his story, his pain too.

I think if you get to the end and you think of it as underwhelming or utterly unfair, then the comic did its job. That's kind of the point; on how things most times won't have a good ending– in the Batman sense. The ending feels bitter in the same way that passing a class with barely a good enough grade feels like you did it, but... nothing really feels rewarding. It just happened.

I have great faith in Mattson now, I'm hopeful the Batman he will bring to us will feel more like the one we've been waiting for to rain down from the sky in the middle of dry season [coughs up... Snyder season...]. About the art; it's perfect. I think the colors and the way they manage with the story are so touching. Andrea had RENT to pay okay. Bruce's design in this might be one of my favorites of his ever. He looks and acts as if the word misery had grown limbs.

Happy late Batman day. Here's a bad review of a comic I cried about while rejoicing on his existence.

[princepestilence]

NYR: May in review

Post-May horoscope: you have to struggle! at your maximum range of extension! in order to grow! your total range of motion!!!

By far the most challenging month I’ve had in this “new” (1yr at the end of June) job, but I have mostly got through it and it should be getting easier soon. I take some comfort knowing that it’s an extraordinarily difficult and overwhelming time for everyone, and also that it has a concrete end date in sight. I am trying to embrace the mistakes and learning opportunities, but I will be so grateful to hit the end of June. 

In May: 

chaired my first committee meeting. Overall it went well! I don’t think anyone else is going to put their hand up to chair at the AGM in Sept., so I’ve made my peace with being in the role -- properly, not just as Acting Chair -- for the next 18 months or so. Feeling a bit unreal that I am the youngest person there and now about to be chairing, but god, someone has to do it. 

do well at work? I’m really not sure. But I am getting things done, so I’ll take the win on that. Mostly a bit frustrated, a bit mortified, and very exhausted and over it. The stress hasn’t been great, but I’m hoping that by the time this season of madness rolls around again next year, I’ll be a lot better prepared to juggle the dozen extra knives sent my way. Metaphorically. The actual knife-juggling I will leave to the performers giving me migraines with their inability to read the emails I send them. 

anthology submission - didn’t happen. Something had to give and I decided it would be this. I know there will be other opportunities, as bitter as it feels to just give up without even really trying. But it really was beyond human limitations to do everything this past month, so it is what it is. 

surprise visit from my parents. Complicated. Counts as an achievement on my part, although I’m sort of mad that I feel that way about it.  

1-month Duolingo streak. On a whim I picked it up again after a long time on May 1st, and it was really, really nice to have so much coming back to me so fast. I know part of why I’ve avoided it -- or even just study and practice in general -- is because I was dreading the experience of relearning and grappling with how much I’d let atrophy. It’s reassuring that that doesn’t actually seem to be the case, and I’ve been really enjoying it as well. 

went to some cool arts events. Had a lot of feelings about it all. Also in retrospect I’m glad I made the effort to go even though I was so run-down from work. It was replenishing in a lot of ways, and I’m happy to have been there. Also had a great interaction which involved the author I was chatting with to say, “Oh, if you’re into corpses, you’ll LOVE this book by--” so that was fun. 

thesis work. Didn’t get chpt. 1 redraft done -- or even close. But I did get some done, which in light of this month I am also choosing to view as a success. I’m still not happy about the lack of progress, but consoled somewhat by thinking a good day or two will make a huge difference and I do have some days coming up to work on it. 

In June, I will: 

get to the end of June! By which I mean: survive my job until the godawful tent that makes my life difficult is gone. Then I’m taking a full week or so off. I need it. Mostly to work on:

thesis. Finish chpt. 1 by the end of this month. Ideally, start work on chpt. 2 rewrite as well. 

keep on top of Chair duties. One of the easier tasks on the list but I have to remember to keep putting the micro-tasks on the list or else I might forget and they’ll get missed. 

go to a zine fair. It’s this weekend and I think it would be fun and a nice excursion and I haven’t been before and would like to see what’s out there in person, but I can feel the weary pulling me down saying, “you could stay home. You could rest. You could catch up on chores. You could work on your thesis and in fact you’re bad for Not doing that,” and I am wobbling on the fence trying to make a good decision for good reasons, as compared to a good decision for bad reasons (thesis, guilt) or a bad decision for good reasons (chores, responsibility). Not sure where rest falls, and I know I will feel at least a bit bad regardless of the choice I make. Hm. Hm. Hm. 

Duolingo every day. It’s fun. A lesson is like, a minute and a half. I usually do it when I’m waking up, to warm up the brain for another day. 

[piscesgirl87]

i dont see how they expect upstead to come back stronger than ever in s11. jesse is not coming back any time soon atleast not as regular. by itself the 1st tweet is ok even if a little delusional but tweeting it after “i’ll laugh if paddy leaves” just shows how bitter they are. but that person is constantly bitter, bashing on the show, bashing on burzek and patrina. they shaded marina for going to israel saying “You true colors will always show. You can try to pretend to be an “activist” through a pfp but you can’t fool people.” and “Y’all choose to sleep on someone who’s problematic and excuse her actions just for some pixels on your screen. Thing is, this is real life and your show isn’t. It shows who y’all truly are.”

and about the show ratings they have said “All the backbones of the franchise are leaving, the ratings are looking terrible, the shows got renewed just for one season and with less episodes for each character. It’s definitely the end” and “on the other hand, if no one is leaving and they all did that for attention to get people to watch, that says a lot about how they're all concerned about ratings.” these are all very recent tweets. clearly they are hoping for the shows to end which if the shows bothers you that much why watch and continue to tweet about it? 😂

I mean that can always have hope for upstead

Tweeting it after saying that yeah it’s mean . There mean and butted people in every fandom

I agree. I don’t get why people hate watch

It doesn’t make them happy so just like, don’t watch lol

But there are still people that do want to watch

[graveltrip]

4 and 5 for the f1 asks?

So sorry for only getting to this now. 🫣

4. A video from this season that makes you happy

Loved the drawing challange and the driver height video.

5. What do you think was the funniest moment of the season?

Look, at the time I was incredibly pissed about the Alpine shitshow and I'm still bitter about how certain things were handled there, but in hindsight that whole weekend was just so funny. It had everything: Lewis getting his honorary citizenship and the Piquets being pissed abou it; Lando being ill again (seriously what was going on with him last year?); rainy quali; Ferrari quali disasterclass special, George looking like a cartoon villain after he ended up in the gravel; Kmag's magical pole and the grid being in a Haas sandwich; Alpine fuckery vol. 3., those idiots fucking up not the others', but their own fucking race with their shenanigans, Alonso's radio outburst being followed up by him getting a penalty and after everything the 2 Alpines still ending up on the same row for the race; Alex' special helmet curse striking again; the Aston boys wanting some of that teammate drama for themselves; Valtteri giving tips to Guanyu; Esteban's car going up in flames in parc ferme; Daniel tapping Kevin in the race just for the Haas to spin back into him and end his race; another Max vs Lewis special at the restart; Charles flipping off Lando and calling him a dick after their incident; Kevin getting forgotten by the marshalls and having to walk back to the paddock alone; Lando's car giving up on life; Esteban vs the Alpine pitwall; the FIA forgetting about Yuki; Alonso overtaking the Red Bulls; Aston teamorders over a point; Charles vs Ferrari; Red Bull switcharoo drama and divorce; Carlos looking like he never had a happy day in his life; George's 1st win... Not a moment, but funniest weekend for sure.

[malstermonkey]

Time & how it differs (& of permanence and transience)

And then, before you know it, the interminable journey ends and you wake up to a wintry darkness, stars doing their twinkling shimmer thing in the Provencal morning sky. 

Whisked, in a matter of 46hrs door-to-door (plane/plane/plane/bus/car/train which saw me run the gauntlet of the airport-workers strike in Germany -- the story of doing 160kmh+ down the Autobahn with jet-lagged brain and itchy eyes is one for another day) from a broiling, toasty Sydney (whilst performing my early-morning, stoic vigil, when I loitered waiting for you, I got the sense that Friday was going to be a scorching belter) to a fresh, frosty-though-showing-the-1st-signs-of-Spring Provence remains, even after all these years, somewhat disorienting.

The physical symptoms of jet-lag are one thing (it creates that weird brain-fog) but it’s the radical change of seasons when travelling between hemispheres which gets me -- yes, the temperature changes but it’s more the bellows-effect on the routine of the day: from early-morning-light-to-long-evenings there to the compressed-day opposite here.

My cottage is warm and cosy, there are pools of light dotted around (I hate the antiseptic, harsh brightness of overhead lights) giving the early-morning darkness a dappled and mysterious aspect (the breathing of this house is still unfamiliar, hence there’s mystery in every creak and sigh where the light doesn’t reach). There’s anticipation of what temperatures the day will bring and what magic (or not) frosty morning daybreak will unveil. There’s the prospect of the run to the village bakery (it’s the melange of smells, from the cloying, dense buttery croissants to sugary sweetness of freshly baked slices of tarte au pommes and the crisp snap of baguettes), of coffee drunk in the sun at the table by the walnut tree, of the pine-sap warmed by the afternoon sun..........

But what is vaguely unsettling is that today it is different: this time it isn’t about a few weeks of holiday where the only aim is to forget the humdrum that is our daily doings, this is about (possibly) living here, about becoming part of the community, the landscape. This is about uprooting and about changing things -- potentially about the flow of how I live.

And being accepting of this possibility and it being so.

And it shows up in the small things: so while my 1st coffee (in Provence) tasted exactly as it has always done (Arabica Noir -- bitter & pungent) my daily habit is to not have a 2nd cup (as I would if this was a holiday) and it applies here as it did there. 

And so it starts, another transition: I can’t help but think about what remains, what proves to be hard-coded and what turns out to have been but a passing fancy. I’m intrigued.

But also a little worried (that I might, even more radically than before, lose you). 

[thebadtimewolf]

everyone still bitter about david jumping in between jodie and ncuti and then there's me with common sense:

didnt they JUST drop sex ed season four or three trailer? and Barbie film doesnt have a full trailer yet? ncuti said he was busy during both those times because he's in both of those.

david is just happy saving ncuti's seat, saving his spot in the line so he go back to doing the umptenth audio from big finish so he could beat paul's record in break neck speed.

hopefully ncuti is done by now and thats why david is doing a play rn because the regeneration scene is already filmed and done.

at least tennant got to be 14, i can only stomach pre-time lord victorious 10th dr on tv for so long but, as 14, its a strong probability he won't act like his tenth self. especially because that could be the trigger in her head so he has to act completely different. just like donna acted like him while staying true to herself as the drdonna, he may end up very.... gruffer. more confused. very time lord victorious but kinder i suppose. plus rose temple noble we know is traveling with david and ncuti drs so shes the first new companion with a previous companion seeing him regenerate properly for the 1st time. after all donna havent seen him regnerate properly with a new everything before. new face new skin new accent its a first for donna oh and wilf 😞 😩

also i fully expect both gatwa and tennant to wear kilts at the premiere, what dyou mean they wont?

[brelyn]

Locusts

I have been thinking a lot about locusts lately.  I am not sure if it is the season of bugs and flies that have me focused there, or if it is what God is doing in my heart.  Many years ago a sweet mentor would always tell me she was praying for the Lord to restore the years the locusts have eaten.  I remember thinking “I have no idea what this means but it sure sounds ‘biblical’ so THANK you for praying for that…. Because I WANT back what I DON’T HAVE and what was TAKEN from me.  The things I felt like were stripped away and the things that left me alone and depressed and the things that I spent many years of my life bitter and angry over, that made no sense.  I am not sure I ever took hold of that promise the way she did, but she was never shy of reminding me that she was praying for those years to be restored.  

And now, all these years, I am (still) thinking about the locusts.  I was drawn to Joel 2:25 today to again read the verse that had been told to me.  

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust have eaten… the hopper, the destroyer, the cutter.  You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.”  

Wow.  I am sitting here reading and rereading the passage that was spoken to me and that I never fully grasped, until now. What a promise! This was prayed for me and over me, and found its way deep in my soul.  I don’t think I knew I was clinging to this promise, as much as I was.  Because when locust kept returning to my mind, I would smile and remember Sue sending cards in the mail and reminding me almost weekly that she was praying for this.  I opened them in the hardest season of my life, where I was clinging to anything that would keep my head above water.  I balanced divorce papers, lawyer bills, and counseling appointments.  I was working to make ends meet and locusts were swarming.  Sue could believe the restoring part, but I was in a season where I was just trying to survive the locust.  Years would go by and I watched as we moved from the apartment to the farm, and how God lavished His kindness.  A pond, cows, turkeys and a safe place for Emma to roam.  Was that what the locusts had eaten?  No… we never had a farm before - we had a home in the right school district, close to church and friends and life. That wasn’t returned.  I was grateful but I didn’t think it applied.  Surely this wasn’t the promise was it?  Then I watched as I got a job working from home until Emma was in 1st grade and then to get a job at Blackhawk, on Emma’s school schedule; a gift - but did the Lord forget, I didn’t work before.  I was a stay at home mom.  This wasn’t returned to me.  As grateful as I was, I didn’t see the promise.  Was it that I didn’t see it, or that I wasn’t looking for it?

What I didn’t see and what God was working out in my heart and life was that it wasn’t never about the RETURNING - but the RESTORING.  Returning implies you get something back that you had - restoring is always better than it was before.  

And the thing He was restoring was me.  

We went to the beach in Michigan last weekend and as I at on the shore and watched the sun dip below the horizon - my soul couldn’t help but praise the Lord.  For the day, the beauty of the sunset and the life that was around me.  My life looks nothing like the life that was taken, but it has gold threads woven in.  My heart for ministry was never forgotten, He has restored this in His time and His way, and I am just a willing grateful participant in His Kingdom work.   He heard the cry of my heart, and has quietly, lovingly, shown me He sees me and loves me so dearly.  He has protected me from what I thought was best but was not.  He has allowed me to be a full time mom and has provided a home, a job, a ministry and a life that I never saw coming.

“… You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.”

This part, that I didn’t know, means so much in the midst of the restoring.   He doesn’t say “you will eat what you want and get all you had…”.  His promise is that I shall eat plenty and be satisfied.   The breaking of Bre and the restoring has proven that satisfaction isn’t in what I want, but in what HE wills.  I am satisfied, not in life, but in Him.  There are things that were eaten that I pray God will one day return, but even if — I am satisfied and have plenty.  I am full because HE feeds my soul and meets my needs.  

The end of the verse says that He has dealt wondrously with me.  I would not have ever called the story of my life wondrous or glamorous.  I would have said “here is a story of hard, heavy and pain.”   But as I continue to stand up in the restoring, learning to be content, remaining steadfast as He does His restoring work, I would say this is the most wondrous story of HIS work.  He is restoring me piece by piece and I have never felt more fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Maybe I didn’t see the steps of the restoring, and at times was ungrateful or oblivious, but He didn’t stop.  He has always had a plan and a purpose through the pain and the storm, and the swarms of locust.  He was dealing with me wondrously.  So, the locust can come and eat, they can take what they want, because I KNOW the promise of my God will remain steadfast.  He WILL Himself restore.

[lillianofliterature]

Can you write a one shot/imagine of the reader being a Silvan elf and being a child hood friend of Legolas and them falling in love, but having to keep the relationship secret? In retrospect, that sounds really complicated, but it would be great if you could do it :)

a secret kept by the stars | legolas greenleaf x reader

REVISED on August 1st, 2022.

a/n: Anon, thank you for the request! It’s perfect! Apologies for the wait, I’ve been dealing with so much mental strain these past couple of years due to my disability and such but I feel a little more confident in my writing lately. The reader is implied fem in this one (referred to as a daughter a few times) although I tried to keep it neutral. I hope this is to your liking! <3 

Elvish (Sindarin) translations are provided in the footer. Gif not mine, found on pinterest with no link to source.

This is Legolas maybe a couple centuries before the events of LOTR? And he’s 2931 during the War of the Ring (LOTR), so he’s not a lovesick tween in this lmao, both are consenting adults. Also, he is SUCH a quiet character, his dialogue is sort of hard to get a tone for in the films because there's so little of it, but I hope he's in character for everyone. <3

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!

summary: As a lowly daughter of Legolas’ former governess, your developed relationship with the Woodland King’s only son and heir is a path forged of risk and painstaking secrecy. 

warnings: Thranduil being an overbearing father, a bit of angst mingled with the fluff

word count: 6.5K 

music: Stars Are Singing by Hristo Hristov

Deep within the still air of Mirkwood’s dense gloom of vegetation, one might easily forget that spring was fast approaching over the vast regions of Middle-Earth. The only reminders of the changing seasons were the blossoms and colorful weeds pressed into the earth beneath your feet and layered within your foraging basket, seeking the warmth of the sun beneath trees woven with web and the never-fading colors of autumn. 

You pitied them as they were, little promises of life eager to feel the hope of the world’s light, shunned beneath the shadows of a melancholy forest cursed with the bitterness of her King’s endless mourning. Something about their pale colors wilting back into the earth before they’d fully bloomed stirred a sense of dread deep within the hollows of your being.

Such delicate life trampled and suffocated without a chance to thrive. 

However, there were places in Mirkwood’s vast reach that seemed like sealed capsules of its former glory—crooks and divots in the land that were frozen in time. In one such corner of the forest, toward the northwestern borders, was a glen of trees unlike any other. Their trunks were still wide and strong, yes, but their bark was free of rotted sap and teeming with green moss and furred vines. Their leaves were the only ones that changed with the seasons from within the borders of the wood. 

In the center of this small circle of untouched trees was a waterfall that matched their reaching heights, pouring forth from a jagged crag and into a clear pool of water. Running directly from a thin stream branching from the Forest River, it was the only still pond on this side of the palace walls whose waters could be trusted to quench one’s thirst and not muddle the mind with dark confusions. 

More importantly to you, it was also the only place in your homeland that offered itself as a safe haven for your most dire secrets; the secrets you kept well-guarded within your heart above all else. 

Your feet soon left the promises of spring to their end as you scoured the rocks on the edge of the pond. You knelt by the cool entity, dipping your hands beneath its surface to quench the thirst that had accumulated from your solitary hike. The song of insects and toads accompanied the last yearning notes of the late evening songbirds, pleading for the sun’s last light to linger upon the crag’s private glen. Somewhere above you, a familiar voice added to the divine calls of nature. 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about our evening rendezvous.”

Your gaze lifted upward into the sprawling limbs to find a pair of sapphire eyes already trained on you. The ends of white-blonde hair flicked upward on the air flowing from the little waterfall’s collision into the pond. Every time you saw the prince’s light head of hair, an image of the fresh white linens hanging from the threaded lines in the servant’s quarry was summoned in your mind. 

One might think it silly, comparing the hairs on the head of royalty to the cotton fabric drying in the mountain’s underground breeze, but it wasn’t just the pristine flow of it that reminded you so. The linens in the quarry always smelled sweet and their scent even drifted into the halls beyond—in that regard, the prince’s hair was also very much alike, always smelling of a sweetness you could never quite pin. 

“Legolas!” You smiled through the syllables of his name. Standing from your crouched perch over the lily pads and minnows thriving in the water, you gaped up at him. Your shock at seeing him having arrived before you was evident in your pleasant stupor. “You’re here early!”

He grinned down at you. “That is precisely what one who is late would say to those who are punctual.” 

Feigning a perturbed huff, you bent down and splashed at the surface of the water in his direction. Of course you knew the short reach of your mischievous deed would not reach up into the extending limbs of the trees, but it was something about the action itself that got your point across. Leaned against the wide center trunk with all the nonchalant elegance of an elven prince, he was very obviously unintimidated by your efforts. 

A brief moment of admiration settled between the two of you.

Finally, at the end of the week, after endless strict schedules and hours of painstaking work between the two of you, there was this moment of calmness shared in the presence of the boy you loved, under the shelter of a small corner of the forest that seemed to grow just for the two of you, just so you might have a place to meet and not fear prying eyes or hasty rumors.

“You were able to slip past your father earlier today?” 

He shrugged. His brief glance toward the leftover autumn leaves littered around your feet told you it had not been a day of pleasant exchanges between the two of them. The smile on your lips wilted when you sensed the tension in his features, the look of recollecting something unpleasant. Had it been another argument about their obvious differences? Another barrage of patronizing lessons and expectations? 

You decided to ward off the subject. These precious few hours were meant for more pleasant memories. “Have you been waiting long?”

He shook his head softly down at you, quietly admiring the fading tint of warm light offering a crown of golden warmth on your hair. He thought you the most idyllic being amongst all the beauty on the edge of the forest—with more melody to your voice than the drowsy birdsong, more calming than the lull of the sweet waters at your feet, and even more heavenly than the waking stars.

“Won’t you join me?” 

Without hesitation, you approached the wide base of the tree with eagerness. You rooted the heel of your boot into the knots of the bark, flourishing your way up to him with all the ease of a woodland elf more accustomed to the gracious embrace of the branches than paths hewn of crumbling stone. When you were near enough to be reached, he offered his hand to hoist you upwards one last stretch. Of course, he knew you didn’t need any aid in your skillful climbing, but any chance to exchange the affection of touch was gratefully taken. 

“Another minute longer and you might have missed the sunset altogether,” he teased.

“It’s the moonlight I prefer, anyway.” You retorted.

His tone was lightly apologetic as he said, “I believe we are without one tonight, melda.” 

“But not without the stars,” you countered, redirecting his gaze to the western heavens. At this height, you were well above the drooping waterfall and given a clear vantage point beyond the crag’s corroded surface. There was a break through the line of trees there—a rarity in itself in Mirkwood, to look up and be able to see the sky above you—where the horizon was visible. 

On the edge of the forest, life was still seeping in from beyond the dying border. Just upstream beyond the waterfall was the great roaring of the Forest River’s wider curves and beyond that the distant formations of the Grey Mountains. The outside world, thriving and alive, like a painting you might find on display in the village markets.

So close you could reach out and touch it, take hold of a lowly drifting cloud or taste the fresh air of a growing world. Mirkwood, your home, the forest you’d grown up in, was a beautiful forest beyond compare, even with such sadness that fed through her roots. But out there, beyond the forest, was a place you wondered might feel less constricting. 

Not because the trees were tangled too tight or the thickets too full of bramble—but because the love you shared with Legolas was a secret shut into an even more confined space. Square feet of the forest that let you take refuge. Because nowhere else in the king’s domain would the daughter of his son’s modest silvan governess be allowed to embrace such unrelenting freedom. It was here, and only here, that those sapphire eyes could remain trained with your (e/c) ones with unflinching steadiness. 

“The life in the forest is fading more with each passing season,” Legolas said, suddenly crestfallen. “And life beyond our borders thrives beyond us. It is as though we are stagnant while the other people of this realm change and flourish, while their customs adjust to generations.”

You looked up at him again, turning to find his expression solemn and stern. That same sense of dread you sensed when looking down at the wilting blossoms of spring fell over you. Somehow, in this moment, it felt as though Legolas were a wilting blossom seeking the light and air beyond his father’s borders. 

“We are now as we have been for over two thousand years. Every day is unchanged from the one before.” 

You took hold of his hand, entwining his fingers with yours gently. He peered down at the touch and rose to trace your knuckles with his free hand. 

“Legolas, what happened today? Did your father say something?”

“The same speeches of detached arrogance as always, concealing himself beneath his robes and jewels, never saying what he truly means—what he feels…what his reasoning is for allowing our home to become so void of the very breath of life.” 

“Why does he not share these things with you? You are his son, if there is anyone who could help him better understand himself, it is you.”

“To know why my father does not confide in me would be to know why he has no expression of compassion, even with our kin. When I press him on such matters, he only recedes further within himself…Sometimes, when I’m with him in those meetings, I no longer see the Elvenking of our great forest, but a stubborn turtle. He is hidden well within his shell, not wanting anything beyond what is already here…and if I try to help, to be a good son, the son my mother would want me to be—I—…I am met with such contempt.”

“Oh, melamin,” you murmured, winding your arms around his firm waist. Without hesitance, his arms nestled around you with an ethereal warmth you thought rivaled the heavens themselves. As he let his cheek rest against the top of your head, the linen wisps of his hair mingled with yours. That sweet, indecipherable scent filled your senses, inviting you to draw in a slow, deep breath. “One day, King Thranduil will be able to open his heart to you again, perhaps when he is not so afraid of his own heartbreak.”

“And in the meantime, I must try my best to understand him, to see my father for who I remember he was once, and not the cold-hearted king he has become.” 

You leaned back enough to look into Legolas’ eyes. “It is not your duty to diminish your own pain in light of his own. You simply have to be you, Legolas. That is enough. You, his only son and heir, are enough. Ceri cin heni?”

Upon seeing the moisture gathering in his eyes, you cupped the soft skin of his cheeks. Under your tender touch, the tightness in his jaw relaxed. You felt the warm breath escape his parted lips slowly. He was cherishing every moment of this meeting, just as you were, savoring every shared sensation and vowel as if it were the last.

“Come, let us sit and enjoy the veil of night.” You offered, guiding him to sit comfortably on the widest reach of the strong limb beneath your boots. 

When his legs draped over either side of the branch, you squatted before him and tucked the wayward tendrils that had fallen free from his braids behind his pointed ears. He leaned into your touch, his smile returning. The silkiness of his hair reminded you of the frail blossoms you’d plucked on your trek. “Oh!”

His eyebrows drew together upon your exclamation. He watched patiently as you unwound the leather wide strap of your basket from around your shoulders. You unbuckled the latch and tipped the basket toward him to show him what you’d collected this time (it was an unspoken tradition by now that at every meeting you offered your fair prince a gift from the forest). 

“I gathered these on the way here for you. They won’t grow much more than this, so I thought I might make better use of them,” you gingerly twirled a strand of his blonde hair around your finger. “May I?”

“Be my guest, dearest melda. I shall be proud to wear a crown of weeds, as long as yours are the hands that fasten it.” 

You playfully bumped him with the little basket as you stepped around him. “They’re not weeds!”

From behind, you straddled the branch in the same fashion as he but allowing yourself room enough to adjust your legs in order to reach the crown of his hair (he was, of course, a little—if not quite a bit—taller than you). You reached around and tucked the basket onto his lap. He cradled it obediently, opening the hatch to inspect the flora for himself. As your fingers began to unbind his braids with the swiftness of familiarity, he spun one of the bigger blossoms between his fingers. 

“They’re wood sorrels,” you explained, “We use them in the kitchens to make those supplements you’re always forgetting to take in the mornings.”

He turned his head to the side. “How do you know when I forget them?”

You pushed the tip of your index finger into his cheek, slowly nudging him to face forward again. “Servants know more about their masters than the masters know about themselves—or at least, that is what the head healer claims. It is our job to know.”

There was a long pause that was difficult for you to discern. Was it a quiet moment of calm as he mindlessly toyed with the pink and yellow sorrels? Or had the mention of your work in the palace perturbed him? Instead of probing him again, you kept running your fingers through his hair to untangle what the day’s affairs had knotted with the wind. 

When the braids were fully unwound, you pulled a wooden comb from your side pouch to reach the tangles that slipped through your fingers. Though there were hardly any to be found on his pristine head of hair, you knew he liked the rhythm of the comb’s tongs massaging his scalp. It had been this way since you were children—since long before the secret rendezvous in his father’s forests became entwined with your requited expressions of romance. For as long as you could remember, you’d been spending an hour or so most evenings combing through Legolas’ pale golden hair. 

The only thing that had changed was how often you were permitted to be this close to him. As you both grew into your duties as prince and pauper, the nightly routine turned to weekly, and on the busier occasions, monthly. It hadn’t been easy to adjust to the gradual distance over the years—in fact, it wasn’t any easier now than when the lines were first being drawn between you as teenagers. 

Instead of being the harmless playmate King Thranduil indulged as his son studied and grew up under your mother’s role as his appointed governess, you were now an irrelevant memory in the back of the King’s mind—some frivolous friend of his child that had grown up to become a servant herself, dissolved into the walls of his cavern palace. As far as either of you knew, Legolas’ father was oblivious to your presence still in his son’s intimate livelihood. That was how it was supposed to be—how it needed to be.

“You are not a servant to me,” Legolas finally said, “I do not fashion myself as your master.”

The comb halted in his hair abruptly. Valar above, you were glad your face was hidden from his inquisitive eyes. If it hadn’t been for the interrupted movement of the comb, he never would have known how much those words pierced and comforted all in one breath. 

“But Legolas, melamin, I am a servant in your father’s halls. I am the daughter of your former governess. I am Silvan and you are—you are your father’s son. Your blood carries the grace of the Sindar…”

“But I am more than just my father’s son,” he corrected quietly, “And I—I do not want to be exalted above you, or any of our people…but especially you.”

“I did not mean it that way—” 

The grip of his palm reaching back to rest on your knee comforted your rising anxieties. Just one touch told you he understood you; he understood that what he wanted or how he thought did not alter the way things were. Yearning for change did not alter what presently was. 

“I know.”

Your eyes drifted down to the comb in your hands. Your thumb ran over the messy engravings you had etched into it as a child, chasing a prince through murky creek beds and once-flourishing gardens that had since turned to bare stone. A sudden stinging sensation in your eyes warned you that your heart, though loved so well, was cracking at its more fragile seams. Though you tried to swallow the rising lump in your throat, your quick sniffle was more than enough to alert Legolas of your overwhelming emotions.

“Lean on me, melda.” 

His tender words brought a smile to your dampening features, tugging a faint sob from your lips. Brushing his hair over his shoulder, you leaned forward and let your forehead rest against the cool nape of his neck. The soft fabric of his tunic caught your silent tears. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of the forest’s edge and the steadiness of his breathing. For just a moment, you let yourself imagine that you and he were somewhere beyond the grasp of the Woodland Realm, as beautiful as it were. Somewhere that his father could not extend his power and make him feel so trapped—somewhere where kings did not rank status above love. And for an ever briefer moment, you could almost believe it. 

You could believe that the smell of a late snow blowing in from the Grey Mountains might be the chill of a Rohirrim winter. You could believe that the sound of the fresh water was not a mere puddle of sacred reflections in the dying forest, but the living waters of the river Bruinen. You could even believe, just for that second, that you and Legolas were already vowed to each other. 

The stillness you shared instilled such a calmness as you both grounded yourselves in each other’s presence. It was inexplicably peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that when he spoke again, the urgency in his tone nearly startled you.

“I would go with you, now, and make haste back to my father’s halls. I would have every soul, within and beyond our borders, know exactly who holds my heart. I am not ashamed. If you would but utter the words, I would make my petition known to my father that our engagement be acknowledged by his own decree.” 

Instinctively, you wove your arms under his and clutched onto his shoulders from behind, hugging him to you. His free hand that did not still hold the violet sorrel rose to cover one of your hands. The beating of your heart pressed to his back gave him a measure to time his thoughts to.

“I know,” you murmured sullenly, “You would keep the moon full in the sky for me…and heal the forest of its plague. And I—I would give you a thousand nights just like this one. I would spend my life combing through your hair and fixing you crowns hewn of Mirkwood’s most delicate offerings…” 

“We are both well of age, (Y/n), and I would not accept his dismissal in this matter. Even if he were to threaten to shorn me from succession—”

“He wouldn’t do that to you,” 

“Or if he threatened your banishment, or your mother’s—I would take leave of this realm and make a life for us in lands more forgiving to us. Whatever it is you fear, I have vowed that nothing will alter the future we have promised to each other, and I would vow so again if there is need for you to hear it.”

He felt your grip on him tighten and the warmth of your breath grow nearer to his ear. You had nestled your chin in the crook of his neck, on the divot of his shoulder. 

“He would despise me,” you stated bluntly, remorsed, “He would despise me and my mother, despite her dedication to this realm, to you—despite what she did for him by returning to her work as a governess. I cannot strip her of her reputation and take the honor of her life’s work from her. Not in that way.”

It’s all we have that’s keeping us within the palace and not out in the woodland villages, you thought. And you almost said it out loud. But Legolas knew. Without your words or whispers or suggestions, he knew. 

“And as much as you detest the prideful customs of your father’s reign, you are still responsible for this realm when your era dawns upon us. It would be inexplicably selfish of me to agree to flee with you when your influence here could foster so much change—you can open our doors wide to the world, connect us again with our kin.”

In time, we can be together. In an era where there will be no repercussions for our love.

It felt like treason to speak so freely about the passing reign of elven kings when one so poignant sat with such vitality still upon his throne. Of course, there were dozens of things that Legolas’ father had done right by his people through the years—and hundreds more before your time to witness them. There were rarely ever attacks or intrusions from neighboring lands, save for the occasional drunken troop of foolish bandits.

Mirkwood didn’t receive many travelers—no one with enough sense dared tempt the risk of straying from the Old Forest Road, despite it being a shortcut to River Running and the lands beyond. The trade with Laketown was efficient and prosperous for both parties. There was not one family or person within his halls and villages without a home and bountiful pantries. There was no malice bred between elves here, no crimes or evils done to each other. 

As Legolas had once said many moons back and many times since, his father was a protector of his people, loyal and devoted. However, in such fierce protection against the horrors of the world, there is also suffocation and stagnance. Exclusion and ignorance.

“King Thranduil’s reign is far from its conclusion, melda.” 

Another lingerment of silence. 

Your tears had dried, though you felt the clammy residue still clinging to your cheeks and neck. Hesitantly, you withdrew your grip on him slowly, ruefully. Looking out through the framed clearing in the trees, the deep blue of the night had long stretched beyond the Grey Mountains, chasing the pale pink light of the sun to another world. 

The stars were brighter here in the forest’s unperturbed dark without the firelight of the Elvenking’s halls. Unchallenged in their glimmering spectacle, it felt as if they themselves were taking careful caution regarding your secret as you took shelter beneath their blanket of light. Somehow, if at all possible, you sensed in their divinity the distinct sparkle of approval among their radiance. And although you couldn’t see where Legolas’ gaze was trained, you felt for sure he was looking at them too.

“I should finish your crown, my prince,” you whispered. “It won’t be long before you’re discovered sneaking beyond the gates after curfew.” 

Leaning back and drying your skin with the hem of your sleeve, you gently ran the comb through his hair one final time. “And what of you? Surely your mother must question where you go so often.”

“If she does suspect something, I trust her to keep her curiosities between us.”

“Do you think she suspects us?”

You pondered the possibility of your mother having put two and two together as your fingers parted and wove sections of golden hair with accustomed skill. Of course she had no way of knowing anymore when Legolas took leave of the palace halls or when he returned—but your schedule she knew very well. The only time you had to spare for excursions into the forest was for foraging herbs and other materials that were needed in the healer’s wing. But even then, you were accompanied by a group of other apprentices doing just the same. 

In the brief hours you were free from any routine or task, you were sure it was questionable that you fled into the far reaches of the Mirkwood border for unforeseen amounts of time. It seemed only slightly foolish to assume that she, the one person who’d spent nearly every waking hour with you and Legolas from your earliest years until her gracious dismissal, would not have detected the attachment you had both developed. 

“She does tease me about you sometimes when the other healers drone on about their suitors and prospects. I think some part of her senses that our connection as children was never really severed, despite your not needing a governess for many centuries now.” You managed to laugh at the idea of being found out by your mother before even the great Elvenking suspected anything was amiss—and not to mention the prospect of a very grown Legolas still being reared and tutored by your mother.

You truly felt no threat from her doting suspicions. If anyone were to ever discover this forbidden extravagance, you wanted it to be her. 

But who knew for certain? Maybe your mother thought you were off seeing some human merchant too afraid to step beyond the forest’s edge and into Mirkwood’s gloom—or even bathing naked somewhere along the river, wary of prying eyes. 

“Perhaps we should consider telling her,” Legolas mused, smiling to himself. A memory from his youth was stirred silently within him—an image of your mother soothing his cries as he called out for a mother he did not remember. 

“You think so?” 

“She has always been good at keeping secrets.”

“Oh? What kind of secrets would those be? Anything I should know?” 

His laugh—which was more akin to a giggle when you thought about it—made your belly flutter with warmth. “Do you remember a time when we were only half the height we are now, when my father would still spend afternoons in the gardens with us?”

You hummed a confirmation, lips pursed as you balanced four strands of his silken hair between your fingers. 

“Do you also remember that on one particular afternoon in the late summer, he wore one of his more extravagant robes? It had genuine gold thread embroidered with those tiny beryl beads. The pockets in it were deep enough to sheath one’s collection of daggers—”

“Oh, yes! I remember that robe! I told my mother the beadwork looked like blueberries; they were so pretty I wanted to eat them.”

He chuckled. “Might you also recall one particularly heinous, (h/c)-haired elleth who stuffed half of the muddied pies she’d made into those silk-lined pockets? Including the oozing ends of worms yanked up from beneath the pathway stones?”

You chortled, slapping a hand over your gaping mouth. “Valar’s grace! I forgot about that!”

“Forgot about it! How in our lifetime could you have possibly forgotten the day you single-handedly managed a squeamish yelp from the ever-poised Elvenking?”

“We were only a few centuries old! It’s been two thousand years since then, melamin.”

“Well, it should please you to know that I’ve not seen that robe outside of his chambers since that afternoon. I’m quite sure my father had it stripped and sewn with a new lining. It doesn’t smell of roots and musk anymore.”

“See, I was right in assuming he would despise me. Now all the more for my act of wrath against his wardrobe.” You reached around Legolas’ arm and plucked a handful of the sorrels from the basket. With his two side braids done, you could now poke the still stems of the small blossoms between their pleats. “I hardly see what that has to do with my mother’s secret-keeping, however.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why you never got in trouble over that sordid ordeal?”

“I don’t know…I just assumed even your father was above imprisoning children.”

He laughed again. “I might prefer that it had been that simple. You see, you were never chastised by either of our parents not because of my father’s tolerance of children, but for one very important secret kept between myself and your mother.”

As he continued his explanation of how you’d been spared the rod of his father’s sore vanity, you began to part a larger section for the third and final half-up braid that would be centered from his brow. Though there was no moonlight to turn the lovingly woven pleats of gold to streams of silver, you hardly noticed the absence of the moon in his presence. 

“Somehow amidst your zealous stupor to feed my father’s garments with rank soil, you hadn’t noticed that his attention had never wavered from me while I practiced my diction. And with your mother focused on her vocal tutoring, there hadn’t been an eye on you between the two of them. My father never even knew you had been within a foot of him that day.”

“After he’d retreated to undress and salvage the mess, I informed your mother I had slipped him some of our attempts at ‘Greenwood cobblers’, which consisted of a healthy balance of nutsedge, mud, and insect larvae. I hadn’t known then that you had added dismantled worms as a garnish. She promised not to tell my father that you had helped me in making them, hoping you would both be spared any scrutiny, seeing as cooking wasn’t one of the subjects I was being taught.”

“Your father thinks you’re the one who ruined his blueberry silks?”

“To this day. Although I hardly think he reminisces on such frivolities anymore.”

After tying the end of his braid off, you leaned forward enough to turn his cheek toward you with your hand and peck your lips to his skin gently. Teasingly, you added, “I had no idea I was so indebted to you.”

His smile was almost mischievous, a glimmer of what it had been as children. “I couldn’t very well have my father thinking my governess ill-fitted for allowing me the opportunity to experience my childhood along with my duties, or run the risk of your not being allowed to accompany her.”

“Are there any other secrets?”

“None you need be privy to as of yet,” he said.

Knowing you wouldn’t pull any such knowledge from him—only because Legolas was a hopeless tease when it came to such details, hoping to make the suspense between recollections and stories linger for your other meetings. Although he was a quiet soul, sparing with his input throughout the week, it was here when alone with you that you relished in whatever he felt compelled to say. And unknown to you, part of him knew very well that the promises and musings shared in private with your mother pertained to his attachment to you, his devotion to her daughter from an early age.  

There had been so many inquiries about your wellbeing after the two of you had been forced to spend less time together as you began your studies as a healer. In fact, when your absence was felt most in the days he spent with her alone, many of their conversations had drifted back to you. As a daughter, as a friend…as a companion to the prince who he missed sorely. Words and fond curiosities were exchanged that you had never heard.

“I quite like the sourgrass,” he only half-jested, patting the limp sprigs of flora in his hair. 

“Sorrels,” you corrected with a taunt, “Call them by their prettier name. I refuse to admit I’ve crowned the very Prince of Mirkwood with sourgrass.” 

It wasn’t long before the toads croaking from the water below had begun to harmonize their songs of ritual and the movement of creatures within the forest stilled peacefully. It was always the late silence of the forest, apart from the sparse chirp of insects, that reminded you both that your rendezvous must come to an end. You were sure it was past midnight now. Your boots echoed a low thump as they planted firmly in the grass, followed by the more graceful landing of your fair prince. 

Side by side, you both walked together far off the beaten path along the Forest River in the direction of home. Legolas only managed a few steps into your journey without the comfort of your touch. In an act so natural and tender, he reached out and wove his fingers together with yours. Those conversations carried on as you followed the sounds of the water. Beneath your boots were the same sorrels that now decorated his hair—although you were much more careful to avoid trampling them this time, taking slow steps along the forest floor. 

It was hard to force yourselves to quicken your pace, to punctually reach the point of parting before the late night became an early morning. The air was now laden with a thin mist, dotting your hair and skin with its chilled kiss. With no moon to illuminate your path the fog drifting through the region was hardly visible. 

When he suddenly stopped to scan the line of towering trees ahead, your heart sank in your chest. Afar off, several dozen yards away, was the flickering glimmer of the first lookout post. If you dared to test your luck beyond your current position, you’d be announcing your courtship to the guards on duty there (who undoubtedly had fixed orders to report all movement or suspicion to the captain). 

“I will cross over here and head back the way I came. The guards at the front gates will be waiting for me to return before the palace doors are bolted for the night.” Legolas said. His sapphire eyes were still trained ahead, taking note of the pattern of the lookout guards’ paces. Your grip on his hand tightened subconsciously. 

A remorseful smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. “I’ll head further east to the village path, then. It’ll take me right up to the servant’s entrance. If anyone asks where I’ve been—” you reached up to pluck a sorrel from his hair, “I have an alibi.”

“I wish we did not have to part like this, melda,” he sympathized. Your gaze fell to your basket of leftover sourgrass, where you began fiddling with the latch. That nagging burning in your eyes returned as you prepared to say goodbye for another tentative bout of time. 

It was only made worse when you looked up to see Legolas in the same fragile state. His tears fell first this time under the weight of the oncoming loneliness and distance. You began to undo the crown of sorrels, dropping each drooping blossom back into your basket. He toyed with a tendril of your (h/c) hair as he let you dismantle his crown. 

It was better this way, to leave no evidence that you had ever been together. With no flowers in his hair, there would be no suspicion or question of how they came to be or who they were given by. The intricate braids, however, would stay until he could no longer avoid washing his hair. It was a subtle display of his love for every pair of eyes in his kingdom to see. No one would suspect that his hair had been woven by the hands of his secret beloved.

You looped the metal latch of your basket for the last time. The prince was now free of the weeds in his hair and of any evidence that a doting exchange had ever taken place. 

Finally, you had the courage to look him in the eyes once more. Your vision blurred, forcing you to blink the moisture from your eyes. You sighed curtly, brushing your tears away hastily with the back of your hand. “I promise I’m not always such a blubbering mess! I do have some semblance of control when we’re apart.”

His sudden proximity siphoned the air from your lungs momentarily as his arms found their place around you. You returned his gesture, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to be as close to each other as possible. Your grip on his tunic was steeled as he pressed his palm to the back of your head with such gentleness. 

“I feel as if I weigh down upon you so heavily, my prince. I hadn’t meant for our evening to have been one of such melancholy. I’m so sorry—”

“(Y/n),” he leaned away, garnering your attention, “When we share our sorrows, we grow ever closer. Do not apologize for the tears we shed in the hours we spend together.”

The last few minutes you had together were spent clinging to one another in the darkness of Mirkwood. The time you were able to siphon from your lives to spend together rushed by with such finality of a river pouring across the land in an endless cycle. A kiss to your forehead told you it was time to finally part ways. You had already spent much longer together than before, pushing the limit of freedom either of you had. 

“What will we do if someone questions where we’ve been—if my sorrels aren’t enough to satisfy their curiosity? What if your father inquires about your vacant hours?” 

“The stars have kept our secret thus far. I believe they will continue to do so.” Legolas cupped your cheeks before drawing near to press his lips to yours. You lingered for one last moment together, tasting the sweet bitterness of your forbidden love affair. The saltiness of your tears mingled briefly before he took a breath. 

One last kiss to your hair and the woodland prince was gone into the fog. He moved stealthily across a fallen beam of oak with such swiftness; it was as if there wasn’t a raging body of water rushing beneath him to fret about.

When he reached the other side, he looked back long enough to offer his most indulgent smile. It was a sense of instinctual affection that helped you smile back, despite your sorrows. With a palm to his chest that then extended outward, he offered one last gesture of devotion before turning to disappear into the shadows of the forest.

melda = beloved, dear, sweet

melamin = my love

ceri cin heni = do you understand [very rough translation]

TAGS:  @tessaem @izbelross @@moony-artnstuff @wellfuckmyexistence 

[simultaneously-sick-and-calm]

»pairing: Man from the Railroad!Atsuhiro x fem!reader

»word count: 3.2k

»Part 1 | IS IT A GOD INSIDE YOU, GIRL? (1st OGoA AU piece by @get-shiggy-with-it )

»summary: A deal is struck and a desire indulged.

»a/n: part two!! Thanks to my beloved @get-shiggy-with-it for beta reading for me. I hope you enjoy!

»warnings: Appalachian folklore, piv sex, fingering (f receiving), monsterfucking (if you squint), implied tragedy (mine disasters, death of workers/children), some reader backstory, historical AU 1800's mining town, Old Gods of Appalachia podcast AU, 18+ MDNI

The Man from the Railroad was no less intriguing when he returned one evening weeks later to meet with your brother. Just as you'd suspected, he’d practically leaped at the opportunity to cut a potentially lucrative deal without the ever-present gaze of your father looking over his shoulder. For years he had been trying, and failing to make dear old dad believe that he was ready to take over the company. Much to his chagrin however, it was clear that while your father didn’t really trust anyone with the specific ins and outs of the business; the man had seemed in recent years to bristle just a little less when approached by your soft questioning voice, over the harsh cut of his son’s.

This time upon entering the parlor room Atsuhiro took your hand in his own immediately, bringing it once again to the soft plush of his lips in greeting. The heat under your collar seared up the length of your neck, settling once again on your cheeks. “My darling lady! How lovely it is to see your enchanting face. A sight for sore eyes, indeed.”

“Why thank you, Sir. Once again you’re proving to be far too kind.” You brother failed to stifle a huff, clearly irritated that you were distracting his mysterious benefactor. The noise of it shook you back from the daydreams threatening to pull you under.

Pushing from your mind the thoughts of hands at your waist...or how his lips might brush over more of your skin in that same gentle way they caressed your fingers; you guided Atsuhiro’s attention to your brother, finally introducing them. “Henry, this is the Man from the Railroad who asked to see you the other night.”

“Yes, of course!” came your brother’s too jovial attempt at making himself appear likeable. Guiding your guest away without so much as acknowledging your presence. “I was so pleased to hear that you’re interested in our little family affair, kind Sir. Please follow me and we can speak more privately in the office.”

“That sounds just delightful. Lead the way, my friend.” Casting one last glance over the shoulder of his perfectly pressed suit, Atsuhiro winked and followed your brother through the office door.

And just like that, you were once again left standing alone at the desk, consumed by the lingering heat of his lips against your skin. And oh lord above you were hungry for it. It wasn’t an overly familiar feeling, admittedly, but you were no stranger to this kind of desire...to this yearning that threatened to burn you up from the inside whenever you caught wind of him. Which had been often over the last several days.

Since his appearance it seemed as though he was everywhere. Word spread of groups gathering in the large fields just outside town, all to listen to him speak. He promised them purpose, good and honest work that would better not only their own lives but those of all who surrounded them.

Fathers and sons.

Wanderers and vagrants.

All were welcome to join him in working for the Railroad. There was a place for every good, hard-working man among his ranks, and every voice who whispered about this black-suited man with the green bolo tie seemed almost as smitten as you.

Even as all the rumors and the chatter flowed like the streams at the base of the mountain. As the other young women in town flushed and swooned at the sight of the hat sitting proudly above the group of men that surrounded him; you held on to one small thing. The way that his given name tasted on your tongue. It was bitter and sweet, rolling over the plush of your lips with an uncertain kind of hope. For all the tongues that wagged about his sudden and overwhelming appearance in your small hometown, none of them referred to him by any name at all.

Only you had been bestowed the privilege--no, the honor, of having a name to breathe out into the darkest moments of night when every beautiful slope of his face occupied your mind. Those fleeting seconds when all you could hear was the gentle tone of his whispering in your ear, imagining the way that it might deepen and rasp under your kiss. The way it would feel to have your fingers intertwined with his own, or trace them delicately over the sharp line of his jaw and the gentle turn of his grin. All of a sudden the ornate handle behind you turned, startling you once again from your daydreams.

Henry’s voice, followed immediately by the soft floating drone of Atsuhiro’s were just on the other side. You caught just the tail end of their conversation as the door swung open. “Well, Henry my friend, I am simply delighted at the prospect of our future endeavors together. I think that with your manpower, and my connections we can truly turn the tide in this battle. Industry is the path to the future, and we must move along with it. Ever onward and ever forward, as they say, hmm?”

“You’re absolutely right, Sir. I think this is the start of a great partnership.” Henry hadn’t sounded so enthusiastic about anything, aside from maybe a free round of drinks at his favorite watering hole, in years. “We have many who would love to be a part of the kind of thing that you’re offering, and I think that my father especially will be looking forward to seeing all your plans come to fruition.”

Fruition. That was quite the word choice for Henry, and you did your best to stifle a chuckle. Usually by this time he was long inebriated past the point where words with a second syllable became a struggle for him. The attempt was admittedly half-hearted, and the smallest of sounds slipped out before it could be reigned back into the confines of your chest.

Thankfully, Henry was already in the midst of pulling a coat from the rack, and making his way out after a hearty handshake with his new partner. “Wonderful to meet you, and I’m sorry that I have to run out so quickly...I, uh have another meeting to get to.'' He tipped his hat in Atsuhiro’s direction and added a muffled “Sister. I’ll see you in the morning. Please make sure that the good gentleman has all of the information that he needs before you go.”

The both of you murmured farewells in return as he hurried out--no doubt late to boast about his success to the usual crowd of drunkards and fools with whom he spent most evenings. And with his hurried exit, you felt the heat under your skin creep back into its former home. Warming your face in what must have been a world record time. Absently you lifted a hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes, hoping in vain that the action might shake you out whatever state these daydreams had thrust you into. A beat passed in silence, and then another before you felt Atsuhiro’s eyes find you across the small space. He was so much closer just an hour before and still you felt like you’re burning up from the inside out at his attention.

Steeling yourself against your own hesitation, you turned to face him and tried to find your voice among the rabble of butterflies that currently occupied all of the space that used to cradle your lungs. “Henry, seemed to be rather taken with you, Sir--”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you refer to me so formally, my darling girl. You are well aware of my name.”

His hungry stare could have consumed you. In fact, the longer you stood there, with just a few steps holding the rigid distance between you, the more of you became quite certain that it would do just that. Every quip that you might have hoped to throw back sizzled away on the molten heat of your usually sharp tongue. “Y-yes, I am aware of it.”

“Then why,” three smooth strides closed the distance between you, bringing him impossibly close, “my dear, do you seem so insistent on forgetting it just when I want to hear it the most?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know a great many things. Things that others do not, and could not know. Like the way that your lips curl so lovely around my name in the stillness of night. It's a tantalizing sound my dear, and I am eager to hear more of it."

He was so close as he spoke, the way his breath danced over your lips was astounding. Being so close to him felt similar to the way you had imagined in the several days since he last filled the space around you, but there was also something altogether unexpected about it. Everything about him seemed to surround you, compressing into a space far too small for any physical being to occupy.

The heady smell of him had you intoxicated, clinging to every inch of skin that lay exposed in the cool autumn air that rolled through the open door. His very presence was heavy, like the blankets of fog that clung for far too long at the mouths of caves, or the last sticky days of summer heat that always lingered on the mountain air.

As a child you could recall the way it felt to taste air like tonight’s on your tongue. The way that it invaded your senses, and bit back as if it had teeth all its own sharp and jagged, in their futile attempts to keep the turning seasons at bay. If it weren’t for the way Atsuhiro’s fingertips burned a path along your cheek as they moved smoothly from temple to jaw, you might have been lost to its chill.

He knew.

He knew everything.

More than just the way you spoke his given name. More than the flicker of hope that melted away at the wax seal surrounding your heart. More than the way you melted into his embrace in the same way now.

The glint in his earthen eyes gave way to something more than human, a sum of parts greater than just the man himself who now pressed his body so close to your own. And in that moment, every story your grandmother shared, every warning weaved intricately into the design of the tales came back to you. Along with one other...

Your grandfather didn’t often indulge in storytelling, but he made sure to tell you one. The one about the man from the company with a green bolo tie and sharp silver tongue, that he had met as a younger man. The man who never shared his name, but worked beside him for years to open the mine. To set your family's legacy on its path, one which would eventually lead to this great reaping of the effort he had sown generations ago. You hadn’t ever figured out if the tale was laced with warning like all the others. Honestly, you couldn’t remember any other details, but now you were quite sure that it would make no difference.

You were certain of just one thing. What he needed, and what you wanted were one and the same.

What he sought from you was an opportunity for indulgence. The shred of his humanity that remained among whatever else made up the mass of him was wavering. Flickering like the prayer candles adorning every window in every home as they mourned the things he and his revolution stole from them. He knew that you understood what he was -- what he wasn't, really, and that you weren’t afraid. The weight of your acceptance seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he crumbled into you.

“Atsuhiro...” You whispered into the lips that ghosted over your own.

He tasted like the first crisp breeze of the season. Sharp, and tinged with inevitability, but heavy with understanding that the death of all things familiar lay in wait at its heels.

Desperation overtook him, painting a new color on his usually monochrome pallet. Teeth and tongue fought hard to remain in control, and he won. Licking into your mouth and sighing beautifully when finally you relented the battle of wills and allowed him to consume you completely.

The hands that moments ago were caging you in, now began to roam. Kneading, sliding, savoring every pliable part of you. Hooking a hand beneath one of your knees, Astuhiro lifted your leg, guiding you so shift backward until you found yourself seated on the desk. You used the leverage to lock your legs around his waist and pull him into you, the action bunching your skirts around your waist. Mewling when your hips were finally pressed fully together, you felt the smirk return to his face. Finally you felt him, hard and hot, even through the few remaining layers of clothing that kept you apart.

He pulled away then, tilting your face to look up at him and relishing in the way you groaned at the loss of his heat. Not to say that he was faring much better, it had been so long since he allowed himself this small pleasure, and you were so willing. He was surprised at himself, really, for managing to hold it together this long already. “This is not the first time you have been touched like this, is it, my pet?” He purred into your ear as fingers traced a soft line up the length of your leg, halting to knead the soft flesh just inches away from where you both wanted him to be.

“No, it’s not--hmmm, please…”

He could practically feel the pulsing, the soft wet heat of your waiting cunt. The pretty sounds you made going straight to his cock, and he wanted more. He needed to hear you cry out his name in strangled ecstasy. “Please what, my darling girl? You’re doing so well for me already. Tell me what it is that you need?” he crooned, relishing in the way you preened at even the smallest bit of praise.

“I think,” you began, once again finding the bravery within yourself that his presence seemed to pull out of you, “that it is you who needs me, Atsuhiro.”

He was, for a split second, shocked at the way you took his face in both hands, pulled him to your level and kissed him hard. It was beautiful, this growing fire in you, and as it overtook his senses, he thought for a moment about how he could have loved it--could have loved you--in another life. Or even in his own, back when he was truly just a man. When his name was his own to give freely and did not come with so steep a price.

But now was not the time to linger on such fantasies.

The hand trapped between your bodies made quick work of your underwear, baring your needy cunt to him at last. And Atsuhiro groaned, an altogether animal sound at the slick he found waiting for him there, and he used its abundance to ease first one long finger, then a second, in time into the heat of you. Stroking gently, he explored the soft velvet of your walls until he found it, the spot that made you keen against him. The dark whimper of his given name that fell from your lips when he began to circle the bundle of nerves in sync, was almost more than he could bear. Never in all his time spent on this wretched earth, had he heard something so beautiful.

Now, you were no sweet spring blossom, innocence was something you left behind long ago. But the delicious way he played your body like a violin was foreign indeed. None of the clumsy hands that rushed to lift your skirts had ever made you feel so good.

"Astu--Ah!" You gasped against his shoulder, feeling for all intents like a spring wound too tightly. One hand wound itself tightly in his silky hair and the other blindly searching for the smooth buckle at his waist. Panting, struggling for words between ragged breaths. "Wait! Wait, I--fuck--I want to feel you."

"Yes, of course my dear."

Sliding from your seat on the desk, you beckoned him to follow and settled back into the plush of the sofa. You barely caught the way that his breath hitched as you finally loosed him from the confinement of his clothes. Taking a moment to admire him, you allowed your fingers to trace the lines. Strong smooth stomach giving way to slender hips and and cock that you might even say was pretty. Impressive, certainly, but not in any way that made you fear pain. Rather he looked as though he was made to fit together with you just right.

And oh, how perfect it was.

Atsuhiro trembled as he sank to the hilt into your warmth, and the both of you sighed as he began to move.

Slowly.

Gently.

The moment stretched and was reverent in a way, as though the both of you understood its gravity. He angled and nudged that heavenly spot again, and the way you clenched around him forced a low groan into the air between you.

He looked up with wide eyes, struck again by the reality of you.

Never in any of the handful of times that he'd chosen to indulge in his baser instincts had the object of his fixation been anything more than a pretty face and a warm body, in the end. And he had the small handful of marbles in his breast pocket to prove it. Each one a reminder that he was no longer Sako Atsuhiro. He couldn't risk leaving a loose pair of loose lips with something so powerful as his own name.

But you…

You were something altogether different than the rest. Unexpected. Secure.

He could lose himself in you.

And as you came undone around him with a whimper of his given name, he did just that. Vaulting with you over the precipice. He worked you both through the high, and in return you kissed him deeply.

A while later, still entwined on the old velvet sofa, your name, whispered softly in the surrounding stillness pulled you back from the edge of sleep.

"Hmm?" You asked gently, afraid to disturb the peace. You knew that this was borrowed time.

"You know that I cannot--"

You silenced him with lips against his own. "I know."

"Thank you, my dear."

--

You awoke the next morning to a stack of those shiny cards on the desk, and a note. Scrawled quickly over the surface were just a handful of words.

These are for the men that your brother wishes to send my way. Keep none for yourself. Ever onward and ever forward.

-A

Next to them in the slim vase where you'd left the blue marble, now was only a long white feather. Very much like the one you'd noticed missing from his hat.

[peachcitt]

I've seen a lot of people saying that rot was BAD, what is your opinion?

OH IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

like most people (im sure) after finishing rise of the titans, after wiping up my tears i went to the rot tag to see maybe some gifs or something. you know, make myself cry a little more. instead, i found a bunch of people saying how much they hated the ending, how it was as terrible as some of the worst big finale bombs (endgame, game of thrones, etc) and uh. im not saying the ending is perfect, but it is DEFINITELY not as disastrous as what people are making it out to be, in my opinion. i thoroughly enjoyed the movie, actually, and i thought it was an effective way to end the tales of arcadia.

warning: rise of the titans spoilers, as well as general tales of arcadia spoilers

were there some things i didn't like? yeah!

the major things i didn't like align with a lot of what i see other people saying:

the weird mpreg plotline with steve. it just felt so strange and out of place, and it was used as a tactic to remove eli and steve from the major action, which i don't like.

and the 'ninth configuration' thing that, once again, excluded eli and steve. i didn't see a reason why they shouldn't have been there, seeing as they have contributed to trollhunting since nearly the start of all of the tales of arcadia. multiples of three are clean and smooth, i get it, but at the expense of two characters that were so lovingly developed in trollhunters and 3below?? yikes

with that being said, though, i don't agree with what a lot of people are saying about the time travel at the end. obviously, they bring up some good points - by changing the timeline so drastically, there's no way for jim to ensure that they'll be able to succeed or if the arcane order will even act in the same way. it's a big 'if' and it is worth thinking about

but people have been saying that the ending is out of jim's character and negates his arc, and i have to say. that's not true.

if you've been following my blog since july 1st, you'll know that ive spent the past twenty one days rewatching the entire tales of arcadia series at a steady pace, and within that time, i've paid a whole lot of attention to jim's arc as a character and how the finale of trollhunters left me feeling as if something just wasn't clicking right. his arc wasn't finished.

because all throughout trollhunters, jim is constantly having to prove his worth - and most of the time, the way he's proving his worth is by sacrificing himself. he takes all the blame when anything goes wrong, and on some level, jim never truly learns the lesson from season one of trollhunters that he's enough as a hero because he has his friends to back him up. like, yeah, he relies on them a bit more after that, but in the end, he still stands in the bathroom alone, separated from all his allies, and shoulders the burden of turning into a troll alone. and he leaves arcadia, the city he was fighting so hard to protect, and he leaves his best friend, the one that has been with him since the beginning.

then we get wizards, where jim lets himself be corrupted to save his friends. and then, because of that sacrifice, he ends up hurting all of them. i believe this fact - that he willingly corrupted himself, separated himself from his allies, and ended up hurting the people he loved - shook jim's foundation as a hero, which is why he can't believe he's the trollhunter without the amulet. the amulet was the physical manifestation of what it meant to be a hero to him, but it was destroyed when he was corrupted - it was destroyed when he hurt his friends.

that's how we see him in rise of the titans; he's still struggling with his identity as a hero because he doesn't have the amulet or the unshakable foundation he previously had of his heroism. literally everyone is looking for him to be the leader and make the huge, world-saving-or-destroying decisions, but he can't shoulder that huge burden knowing he could hurt everyone. and then, just to add fuel to the fire, it's his plan that causes people to die or be permanently separated from the group. and he can't even get the sword out of the stone! why? because he himself doesn't see himself as worthy - how can you think of yourself as worthy when you just got two of your allies killed and two more gone, presumably for forever?

but this is the moment it finally clicks for jim. he looks around at his allies, and he sees them reflected in the amulet. he's not alone, he doesn't have to be worthy just by himself, he has an entire group of people who have fought by his side time and time again that, even despite all the mistakes and missteps he's made, are still by his side.

and what makes the amulet work, in the final fight, is his firm determination to see this fight through, no matter if he has the armor or not. he's terrified, he's probably going to die - but it's that bravery despite the fear that makes him a hero, a trollhunter, amulet or not. and he knows that now - he's had to face it before, in the unbecoming episode, but it's different now. in the unbecoming episode, he was truly alone when he decided to face the fight. and he's alone here in rise of the titans - but not for long! because almost immediately after jim comes to terms with his place as a hero again, toby comes along, and he doesn't finish this fight alone!! he finishes this fight with another trollhunter, who doesn't have an amulet!!

jim deciding to rewind time to back before the events of trollhunters is a bold choice, but it tracks with a theme in wizards - merlin told douxie that what set him apart as a master wizard was his belief that every life was valuable and worthy of being saved. this theme is repeated in the new amulet in rise of the guardians; it's for the glory of all, not just for one person.

and jim deciding to have toby become the trollhunter finally marks the completion of jim's arc. instead of shouldering the burden alone, which is inevitably what would've happened if jim had rewound time, kept all of his memories, and accepted the amulet again, jim is choosing to accept allies into his life sooner. instead of being the trollhunter, jim is letting himself be a trollhunter, alongside all the other trollhunters.

of course, there's some things in this alternate timeline i don't like; mainly that no one stepped in to stop steve from bullying eli. that, to me, was the most out of character, and i can only assume jim didn't step in because he's leaving room for that fight to be toby's; competing against steve was a large jumpstart to jim feeling like he could be strong enough to bear the mantle, and maybe jim was just trying leave it up to toby to establish that on his own. still, i didn't like it.

and, of course, there are people lamenting the fact that none of the heroes of arcadia know each other or that they might not have the same relationships, but i immediately thought of the time loop episode in 3below. in that episode, the trollhunters team and the gang from 3below meet and become friends and ultimately lose the memory of that friendship from that day. however, in that episode, blinky says that true friendship would last against the test of time; if they were meant to be together, then they would be. and guess what? even though none of them remember that happening, they all still became friends. it was meant to be.

i think a lot of anxieties about the changed timeline are because people loved the events of trollhunters so much that they a) don't want to see anything changed and/or b) are trying to project the events of trollhunters onto the new timeline and are upset when they don't fit. toby won't be the same kind of hero that jim is, though - he never has been. inevitably, the story will be different, and that's scary. that was the risk jim took, though, and jim has always trusted in toby, so why shouldn't we?

to me, tales of arcadia has never been about clean endings that make you feel entirely good. they've always left me with a tang of bitter along with the sweet, and i think that's the point. tales of arcadia has always battled with hard questions and difficult endings, and i don't see rise of the titans being any different from that.

like i said before, i don't think rise of the titans is perfect. but you can hate it as much as you want; i still really think it did a good job with the story it was trying to tell. i mean, ending with the idea that all lives are important and worth saving, no matter the risk? that heroism inherently means being part of a collective that you trust and believe in? that through time and space, you will always be able to find and connect with the people you love? that's powerful.

im climbing off my soapbox now, but basically tl;dr: rise of the titans was a good finale, despite it's imperfections, and i think that's all i can ask for.

also if you don't like toby as the trollhunter just because you don't like him breaking out of the 'funny sidekick' archetype you can die by my blade

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Christmas with You~

(It’s days after Christmas as usual I haven’t active or slept  properly yet but I’ve been focused on my store lol. I hadn’t been super on my writing game in a hot minute so I decided to write how your partner would treat you during the holidays. This features EVERY single villain I write for from the list located in my bio IN ORDER. Also I apologize if you don’t celebrate Christmas and this doesn’t apply to you. I hope you still had a great holiday anyway, and I love you!)

~Toga💉-She begins her present shopping early because she wants to find you something that she’s sure you’ll like! Eventually she ends up buying a ton of things, but none of them satisfy her and she’s worried you won’t like any of them even though you will. So finally she settles on making you something instead. She will stay up all night long pushing herself to put together the perfect gift for you and will literally fall apart if you don’t like it. But I’m sure she won’t have to worry about anything like that.

~Dabi🔥-Hates the holidays. He tells you they hold some pretty shitty childhood memories for him and he’s honestly all for avoiding even just the thought of Christmas, but of course he looks at you and that changes. He’s really willing to try and take part in a little holiday cheer just for you even if it’s stupid to him. Call it cheesy, but when he celebrates with you it helps take away from the old bad thoughts. It gives him a chance to replace the bad memories with good ones. So he’ll bake some shitty cookies with you, and poorly wrap presents even if he knows that you know what he got for you. Of course he’s not opposed to a mistletoe kiss or two (or three). You help put the cheer in the holiday for him.

~Overhaul🥀-Hates Christmas. It’s not the holiday, it’s just how many people are buzzing around up until that point. So he gets ALL of his shopping done early. And and all emergencies are to be handled by his men (ex: in case he forgot something on the list). The number one thing he takes super seriously is you seeing your presents. You better hope he doesn’t catch you sneaking around the tree. He will lock you in the bedroom until the day of Christmas itself before he lets you open any of them early...even on Christmas eve

~Shigaraki🤚-Literally wakes you up super early on the morning of just so you can watch a movie with him in a fluffy throw blanket with the hum of his electric heater nearby. He loves this season with you more than any other because he can use the cold weather as an excuse to cuddle with you. “Oh well you know I’m kinda small here so I don’t produce a lot of body heat. You should come closer.” Aside from that, he loves the way you celebrate. You make it up to him for not having a childhood at all. Surprisingly enough, he loves doing all the little things with you.

~Tengai🏳-Doesn’t see a point in the holidays and never really supported it before. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s no scrooge. He would rather spend his time the way he usually did around this time of the year: working at charity spots and donation centers. When you find out he spends every holiday season serving food to people less fortunate it makes your heart soar. So if you have the time to join him, then by all means please do so. Help him spread a little peace this season

~Deidoro🍺-Being someone that knows a LOT about different drinks out there, he has never in his life heard about eggnog. It throws you for a loop at first and you laugh at him as he watches you in confusion. “Wait...you’re being serious about this???” So you have to sit him down, make it for him, and let him try it. I mean, how could he be the one person to not know about this when its alcohol related? Well let’s just say that not only does it stick, but Sakaki has been downing eggnog at the Hassaikai Christmas party all night, and now he’s trying to literally eat you in the bathroom while you’re washing your face. It’s ridiculous

~Nemouto✔-This man is 100% proposing to you on Christmas night after a long date with you. For someone that talks about feelings being pointless, he sure does have a lot of love for you. He pays attention to the details and the moods around him. This time was a boost in your happiness and it signaled the perfect time for him to pop the question to you. Add in all those romantic light attractions, and the snow with the carolers etc. Its free romance that he can ride on and use to his advantage. Catch him getting on one knee in the snow after you two are leaving a light show in the city.

~Setsuno💔-Holidays are depressing to say the least. To him, Christmas and Valentines day were the worst 2 days to be alone out of any day of the year. Well WERE until you came into his life. He stares at you unwrapping presents under the tree while he sips some cocoa and he thinks about how lucky he was that you came into his life. Little moments like these help tie together the ideal that holidays aren’t so bad. Thanks to you, he no longer has to fight back tears of sadness in the dead of night as the snow falls against his window and sticks until it melts. Now he has to fight tears of joy blurring his eyes while you two lounge on the couch and try to get through a holiday movie without falling asleep on each other

~Compress🎭-Will do any and everything with you during this day. I mean he’s going to go all out for you on any day of the year, but this one is a little different. So bring in those matching Santa hats, and roll out the gingerbread house kits. Compress is down for it all. It’s not just for you, but all for the sake of letting loose for once during the year and allowing himself to relax as a civilian instead of a villain on the run. He’d rather spend time building a gingerbread house than trekking through the cold forest with the sounds of sirens in the background getting near. 

~Twice👬-This man gets a new ugly Christmas sweater like every year since 7 years ago. The only difference is now he can celebrate with you and his friends instead of celebrating with himself and his clones, alone somewhere in a storage unit. And yes: he’s the number one person to force the league into a Christmas party because he knows you’ll have fun hanging out with him and everyone else (since usually he keeps you away for protection). He’s also the most likely to make everyone engage in secret Santa with each other. Jin is also the one most likely to burn through Christmas movie marathons like it’s nothing at all to him. He runs on peppermint hot cocoa, and marshmallows so don’t challenge him at all

~Kurogiri☁️-Usually he wouldn’t think twice to celebrate it. It doesn’t bother him, but he’s not really focused on being cheerful when there’s work to be done instead. You have to be the one to help him slow down and enjoy the tiny things here and there. He’ll help you string up lights, decorations, and the tree. Believe me, he does an amazing job on it all because he doesn’t half-ass his work in any kind of way whatsoever. He’s also kinda in love with the Christmas sweater/vest combo you got for him (and he’s secretly wanting to brag about it). He’s not one for the sweets like the ribbon candy, or the candy canes but he’ll blow through holiday food that you cook or order. Most of all, he’s invested in seeing you smile 

~AFO💀-Christmas is just another excuse for him to spoil you. However, you have to step up and let him know it’s more than just gift giving that he needs to do. Where you would love some quality time with him, he’s more about giving you 1,000′s of dollars of gifts and handling work that needs to be done. But who can say no to those eyes of yours huh? (Don’t answer that. Just know he’s not one to deny you). He’s not really into the holidays but he treats it like a big important date night between the two of you. He’ll go above and beyond to ensure things runs smoothly. You’ll have to introduce him to ‘stay at home’ dates for once. If not

~Stain🔪- Isn’t down for it until you mention the tradition that some people go out and chop a real tree. For some odd reason, he’s attached to the idea of chopping a tree down. At first you thought you’d successfully got him into the Christmas spirit, but it just turns out he was eager to use a blade for big business for the first time. Either way, you shrugged it off and rode with it. And boy was that a mistake to make...You were shivering out there. Stain had you in the forest for at least an hour now while he hunted down the perfect tree. You swore to yourself that you’d be getting a fake one next year

~Muscular💪-”Celebrate Christmas? Okay, why tho?” You maybe could convince him by disguising it as a romantic time but he’s not big on romance either. You entice him with gift giving. More importantly the idea of hiding his gifts and not letting him see a single one till Christmas day. THAT is how you get him into the holiday. Be warned though, he’s mostly taking part in the other celebrations because he’s wanting those presents so badly.  

~Mustard☣-You’ll be lucky if you can get him to go Christmas shopping with him, let alone celebrate. No offense against the holiday itself but Mustard doesn’t celebrate ANY day. He doesn’t even like to celebrate his own birthday! He seems to be a bit more bitter around the holidays and the cheer isn’t helping. “C’mon don’t be a scrooooooge!” You poke at his cheek while he’s scrolling through his phone on the couch. “Y/N for the last time, kindly piss off.” He glares at you before turning his attention to his phone again. At this point you’ll either have to risk getting put under from annoying him too much, or you’ll have to find another way to convince him to loosen up. Good luck with it

~Spinner🦎-10/10 best person to spend Christmas with. He’s more into it than you are. As soon as December 1st hits, he’s putting up decorations. In fact, he put up the tree a week before Thanksgiving. The holidays remind him of when he was little and he sat in his mom’s lap while she sewed a Christmas tree quilt. Or when he and his sibling would have snowball fights in the backyard (despite his aversion to cold weather due to his quirk). Shuichi will sit down and write out a holiday movie watch list and watch a different Christmas almost every single day with you if you’d allow it. He’s the first to bake cookies, and the first to start buying gifts early. Most of all, he’s happy to spend this time with you. (Oh be prepared for those walks in the park to admire the Christmas lights)

~Katsukame🗿-Big guy is a lot more cheerful than you know, but he knows nothing about Christmas so you gotta show him all those old fashioned traditions. But please don’t tell him to deck the halls because he will pull a ‘Rappa’ move and punch holes in the hallway walls. Aside from that, he’s pretty open to Christmas cookies, and even decorating. But I have to say he draws the line at singing door to door at people’s houses because he hates to sing. He doesn’t even like to hum lol 

~Rappa👊-Hell yeah he’s gonna spend it with you! The big guy is literally sold on just about anything involving you (well as long as he doesn’t have to wear a stuffy suit for it). His excitement stems mostly from his curiosity. He never had a bad childhood but he still can’t remember much of the holidays back then. So who needs old memories when you can make new ones! At least that’s his reasoning after all lol. 

~Hawks🦅-This guy is the WORST at giving you presents. I mean his gifts are amazing, but he always slips up and tells you what they are too soon. In fact, he will buy you something and ask if you wanna see it within the next five minutes afterward. Its gotten to the point where you have to beg him almost to stop letting wanting you to open stuff. He can’t help it though! Keigo just loves spoiling you, and holidays are the exception where he can go crazy with his saved money.

~Magne🕶-She has this crazy secret collection that she finally busted out once you’ve gotten close enough to you in the relationship. Her secret collection ended up being a MASSIVE set of sweaters (specifically Christmas themed) While she’s beaming proudly about how she has a different sweater for every day in December, your jaw is almost on the floor. “Mag...don’t...don’t these cost like 50 bucks each? How long have you been collecting these?!” Anyway, you should expect an ugly Christmas sweater party with the League at least once this December 

~Tabe🍡-Forget celebrating the other stuff that comes with Christmas, you already know what he’s excited about...All that yummy yummy food!!! Oh God (if it applies) take him to your family (or friends) for Christmas and watch his face as he enters to see that table full of food. Oh man, he’s going to do his best to be respectful but on the inside he wants to destroy all of the food on that table. Oh and don’t worry about the whole baking cookies for Santa because Tabe is most likely going to eat them...and drink the milk too

~Hojo💎-He starts present shopping in late October, early November so that way he has everything he needs to get for you (which is a lot). He hides your presents at the base so you have no idea where to find them. Thanks to the base being an underground labyrinth, you’ll never see those gifts until Christmas eve (just one), and Christmas day (the rest of them). Hojo goes along with whatever you do to celebrate the holidays. He’s just perfect husband material to be honest. Not too rough around the edges, but willing to beat a man to death if his job calls for it. Who knew he’d be the most willing to celebrate the holidays with you.

~Chronostasis🔫-He will literally defy anyone that stood in the way of spending this holiday with you. That includes his own best friend/boss. Overhauls knows this, and he’s comes to respect your relationship so he purposefully doesn’t schedule Hari to work on Christmas (but he still pays him for the full day since he’s still his friend). Hari will absolutely kill anyone that got in the way of your cheer. Even if you were one of those people that believed in Christmas magic, he would support you. The world is tough, and it shows no mercy so little things like joy during the holiday meant a lot more than anyone could know in your household. He loves to see you happy so if that means celebrating with you, then he’s going to do it. Besides...he secretly likes Christmas himself

~Mimic💰-Literally loves to talk about how unnecessary it is while he’s also excited for it as well. Like he’ll talk down about decorating while he’s decorating. If you try to step between him he’s gonna tell you to: “Back off, you’re messing up my artistic flow here. Go sit on the couch. Make yourself useful and unwrap the candy cane boxes for the tree.” You can see by the way he steps back and puts his hands on his hips to admire his handy-work that he’s taken a bit of pride in things here. 

~Pops🇯🇵-The old man will take part in the celebration with you because he absolutely adores both you AND the holiday itself as well. He might mix in a few older traditions like Elf on a Shelf, and making a popcorn line to go around the tree. Most importantly you can look forward to opening one gift early as per tradition on Christmas eve. Pops is thankful every single year he gets to spend with you. 

~Giran👏-Christmas presents from him are on lock. You see he developed this tactic after brainstorming some ideas. He’s always buying you anything and everything but he realizes that it takes away from his Christmas gift pool. To combat this, he decided to cutdown on his generosity in the months of September, October, and November. That way, it’ll give him some time to get you a bunch of stuff on Christmas that you DONT already own. Or at least some stuff you don’t already need. 

~Geten❄-Of course he’s number one at hiding how he feels about you. Or maybe more along the line of being a total Tsundere, but believe me he loves you. If that means celebrating this holiday with you then he’s willing to endure it. His grumpy face is getting harder and harder to hide from you. Sometimes you can just barely catch a glimpse of his content smile while you guys build a snowman together. Wanna have some real fun with him? Challenge him to a snow building competition. With his quirk at play you’ll surely lose no matter what, but isn’t it fun to see him bragging his ass off about how he ran circles around your ‘shitty snow project’? 

~Slice💋-She doesn’t hate the holiday, but she DESPISES the cold weather. A lot of her clothes are shorter and sexier by far. Summer is her number one time of the year. Besides, winter dries her skin out, and she hates being under wraps of a thick jacket etc. She can’t even wear her open toed heels!!! Besides that, she’s down for celebrating indoors if you want to. Christmas movies, hot cocoa, and a few make-out sessions are her forte. That’s the best way to do Christmas in her opinion

~Nine🌪-Bake cookies? Sure. Volunteer at shelters? Absolutely. Hang lights around the house/apartment? Yes baby, anything for you. I mean Nine is a ‘yes’ man all year round, but he’s especially willing to agree to things during this time of year. He’s completely whipped for you and there’s nothing wrong with that. He celebrates however you’d like him to do so. There is just one thing he wants to do that he suggested first and that’s either driving slowly through fancy neighborhoods to see their lights up, or going to a Christmas themed petting zoo and feeding carrots to the reindeer. Let’s say he’s a child at heart during this time of year

~Chimera🐺-Literally sees no purpose in celebrating it at all. He’ll do the stuff you want but he’s going to complain the whole way. The only thing he’s big on is saving up his cash and getting you something. The only thing that matters to him is making you happy during the entirety of your relationship (which he hopes is the rest of your lives together). The rest of the stuff he’s just grumbling and putting up with so he can see your smile. 

~Mummy🥋-Christmas? For what? Well okay then, if you say so. Really doesn’t get the point but hey, why not. He’s got nothing better to do. He’s never really celebrated it, His family never really celebrated it either so he’s a little interested in how you get down for it. His favorite thing he developed was this odd present wrapping competition with you. You should already know how good he is at wrapping things due to his quirk (I’m sure he’s shown you how good he is at binding and wrapping stuff before). Add a little competition into anything and he’s ready to do it. Baking competition, Caroling competition, Decorating competition. He’ll even challenge you to who can cuddle each other better. Whatever floats his boat I guess lol

~Gentle Criminal☕-He wants to travel during the holidays with you and he wants to vlog it all. Only if you’re okay with it of course! If you give him the ‘okay’ then he’s whisking you away somewhere overseas for a more extravagant vacation. He ends up spending so much time with you and having so much fun that he stop recording like 3 days in. His reasoning behind travelling is that snow must be so much more fun elsewhere, so of course the rest of the holidays must be as well. In all reality he just wants to make sure you have a fun Christmas. Travelling during it and experiencing different places and cultures are a fun new way to experience the holiday. 

~La Brava📸-Handy with the tech, but mostly with the camera. She amasses an entire compilation of you throughout the day and she’ll stay up all night stitching it together. The day after Christmas comes and she sits you down on the couch to watch it with her. Honestly she’s the sweetest and most dedicated partner that anyone could ask for. The way she treats you makes you thankful not just for spending Christmas with her, but for spending any day of the year with her. 

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCIII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

And you are not here... (Part I)

(13x01)

Hello beautiful people! We reached season 13!!! This was a very analyzed season, so, many of the things I will say won't be new. There wasn't much Destiel in the second half of the season, so, I hope we can have less volumes than season 12.

But, let's focus now in the angst, and when I speak about angst, I mean Mourning! Dean.

Priorities?

At the beginning of the episode we have Dean, down his knees by Castiel's dead body, he can't believe he just lost him, so, he is not thinking here, he can't thing in another fact more than Cas.

Sam feels he has not time for crying for his best friend, because he has to focus in saving the world: Lucifer's son had just born.

I always like to point the difference here: Why Sam can focus on the Mission right away and Dean can't? Is because the amount of the emotions and the meaning of this lost.

Don't forget they lost Mary too, but this is different.

Because Sam lost his mother, but because she didn't died, he keeps hopes in bringing her back. Because Jack is there, and he was the one opening the rift. He lost Cas, he saw him die, his best friend, but even so, he keeps going, he runs towards that cabin to find the Nephilim. Because just like Cas, even with the loses, he has to keep fighting, to try to save the world, Cas would do the same.

But for Dean Cas represents his Everything, his faith, his hopes, the love of his life. So the world just stopped there. And he can't think in anything else but the deep pain of loosing the man he loves.

Then the scene in the car is heartbreaking.

SAM: Hold on a second. Can we just talk about what happened back there?

DEAN: Sure. Which part? Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—(he pauses) Mom’s gone, and apparently, the Devil’s kid hit puberty in thirty seconds flat. Oh, and almost killed us.

This is Dean not wanting to say Cas is dead, this is Dean not being able to say Cas is dead. His worst nightmare became true.

SAM: Yeah, because you tried to shoot him.

DEAN: I tried to shoot the monster, Sam. It’s kind of what we do.

SAM: We don’t know what he is yet, Dean. And I had it under control.

DEAN: I’m sorry. Are you defending the Son of Satan?

SAM: I’m not defending anything. I’m just saying, look, with everything that’s happened, I’m obviously spun out also, but we need a plan.

DEAN: Yeah, kill him! Okay? That’s the plan. Look, right now all that matters is finding him, and ending him, before he hurts anybody else. And once we do that we’ll figure everything else out.

Again pointing at the difference between the two brothers. Sam is thinking strategically, but Dean wants to kill him, because he blames Jack of Castiel's death. Jack is a monster that deceived, used and killed Cas. So there's no doubt for Dean JACK IS A MONSTER AND HE MUST BE ELIMINATED. For Sam, Jack represents the hopes to get his mother back.

SAM: What about Cas? Is he - is he really dead?

DEAN: You know he is.

And this is terrible, Because Dean is answering this to himself. 'You know he is.' Is the fact he has to assume. But he is avoiding to do it.

"Angels are real too."

So sad when the angels find Castiel on the table. The contemptible way one of them referred to Cas breaks my heart, because is so fresh now his dead in 15x18.

1ST ANGEL: Castiel. Always knew he’d meet a bad end.

2ND ANGEL: He deserved better.

1ST ANGEL: No, he really didn’t.

This is so accurate now, is like hearing Misha wanting his big sacrifice for love as Castiel, and all the fandom repeating HE DERÑSERVED BETTER, trying to show the point, and the C*W and broniles saying NO, HE REALLY DIDN'T. But well... Just a bitter thought... For this angel, particularly, is referring to Castiel's choices, his repeatedly chosing Dean Winchester over Heaven.

When they arrive to the Burger Shop, Dean decides to stay in the car and wait for Sam.

The drunken girl, which results to be an angel, comes out from the same shop, and the camera shows us Dean's bruises in his knuckles. So, we can infer something happened...

The dialogue between the angel and Dean is very interesting, because she create a whole scenario and character:

DRUNK WOMAN: Anyway, Becky was - and I say this in the most feminist, screw the patriarchy way - a giant superbitch. She’d take things, and break things, and piss people off, and just do whatever she wanted, no matter who it hurt.

She will say after revealing who she really is, that Dean was Becky. And the way she speaks about this character is with the same contempt as the angel talking about Castiel. Because Dean is guilty of Castiel's fall and disobedience. He is the human that broke Castiel, and that's why Cas ended up dying.

Once in the police station, Dean tells all the truth to the sheriff, and when he speaks about angels... His face turns even more sad.

Gif credit @wanreina

Look how he drops his eyes and turns his face to the window. This is pure grief, pain, sadness. Because it was almost as if he was mentioning Castiel again. And it hurts too much.

We were witnesses of Dean's prayer to Chuck, mentioning he wanted Castiel back, pleading not just for him, but Mary and even Crowley. Desperate prelaying. And when he turned around, with this little hopes in being heated, and maybe finding everyone there, CAS, and then realizing they weren't, he exploded in anger, breaking the pirate on the door, and hurting his knuckles.

Still trying to make Cas to come back to him...

Goodbye Cas

When Dean was fighting against the drunken woman, now an angel, the dialogue between them is showing us again how Dean was still expecting to find a way to make Castiel come back to him.

MIRIAM: Because Bieber in there? He can do almost anything.

DEAN (hopeful): Anything?

MIRIAM: (Chuckles) Oh, sweetie. Almost anything. Castiel, he's dead.

Gif set credit @godshipsit 👇

Dean's grief all over his face while the little hope that had found it's way is slowly fading again, listening to these words. These words that Miriam says with pleasure.

This scene is showing us how Dean was only thinking about CAS, in how to bring him back, with desperation, he was longing for him so hard, even the angel perceived that emotion.

The other super sad scene was Dean preparing Cas' body for the funeral...

(the follow gifs are from @wanreina)

When he comes back to the cabin, he faces again the reality. Dean is down that sheet, dead. He stops just for a second, and swallows. Encouraging himself to keep walking towards him. Before doing that, he flicks his eyes away from the corpse.

Then he goes to his side, and sighs, and then breaths... The pain is all over him.

This is Dean realizing again Cas is gone. Look at the deep sadness in his face, while he is staring at him, maybe he is talking with him, asking Cas to come back to him. Then, he is swallowing again, hard, he looks away, because Castiel won't come back, Castiel is definitely dead, as the angel said. No one will bring him back, nobody is gonna help him to bring Cash back. The despair is huge. Yes he has to aknowledge that in his heart.

Okay I read somewhere that maybe Dean was praying here to Cas to come back again, then he sees Cas is still dead. But I really believe, Dean didn't stop praying to him, or to Chuck, because that was the only things he could do. What else? So maybe he was praying the whole time, putting his hopes in those so many times Chuck relived him, or Cas camber back to him. Trying to reach Cas somehow. But with each desperate prayer he was convincing himself Cas wouldn't come back, and this time he was dead, really dead. For ever. That's the pain in his heart. He was trying to wake him up, he was pleading for one last miracle, and not to burn his body in the pyre. So this was his last attempt to bring him back.

The last and hard scene was the funeral

Gif credit @inacatastrophicmind

"You say goodbye" Sammy's voice sound in the background and we see Dean's sad face. The pain and the grief. So different from Sam and Jack. And so different from another times when he had to burn his father, or friends. Nothing is gonna be norm from now. Because he lost Cas, the love of his life.

Visual Narrative: Just a little mention of Pirate Pete's Burger Shop. The place was in blue and red, (Cas and Dean), with references about the ship (Destiel), and jokes about the butt, and, according the Urban Dictionary, the Pirate Pete is a sexual joke too. So, we can maybe infer, base in how angels were mocking Dean and CAS relationship and how it ended in this episode, that place was related to it.

To Conclude:

This was just the beginning of Mourning!Dean, we will see him depressed and with no faith, no hopes. Ig gonna be alarming for Sam, and we will have one huge revelation in the episode in wich Billie will talk with Dean about his grief.

Hope you like the first meta from season 13, see you in the next ones!

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Buenos Aires, December 20th 2020, 6:03 PM