#then they did it and I'm glad it ended that way

[batsybat91]

Leon went out with Chris tonight to have a few drinks. You know that they took a taxi there, so they'll take a taxi back. That means you don't have to worry about them. It's good your boys are having fun.

Your door clicks open, and you turn to see a very flushed Leon at your door. "Hello, sailor," you giggle, standing from the couch to help him walk.

"I'm not a sailor," he replies drunkenly.

You gently guide your boyfriend to the couch, letting him sit carefully. When he started dating you, he said he promised to never have more than one or two drinks. But you can't be mad at him for having fun with Chris. It is okay every once in a while.

"You okay, baby?" you coo, brushing dark brown hair out of his face.

"Why you call me 'baby?'" he slurs.

"Because I am your girlfriend," you reply, stifling a giggle.

His eyes blow wide. You see his pupils dilate, and then he put a pillow in his lap. "You're way too pretty to be my girlfriend," he says nervously.

"I'm glad you think I'm pretty," you tease.

"Soooo purty," he drawls. "Are you really my girlfriend?"

"Yes, sir. Been your girl for some time, now," you snort, then put a hand over your mouth to stifle another laugh.

"Prove it!" he exclaims, like a toddler asking you to show him something.

You sigh, and lean forward to kiss his lips. You end your kiss with a loud, "Mwah!"

His face is even redder, and he pulls the pillow tighter across his midsection. "You kiss me!" he accuses.

"Yes, Leon, I did," you reply, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Now, why don't we get you to bed?"

He eyes you suspiciously, then nods. You help him to your shared bedroom, letting him get undressed himself. He flops into bed beside you, then rolls on his side to look at you. "Goodnight, girlfriend," he giggles.

"Goodnight, boyfriend." You kiss the tip of his nose.

[shehungers]

OOOOOOH, YUI!!! this is my first review of any of your work and I know that we briefly discussed it before, but I knew when I took a peek that night that I was going to adore your writing style and I do!! this story was such a fun introduction to your writing and I'm glad this was what I went with first!

this will have little to no organization, so I apologize in advance for that.

the first thing I'll talk about is how you incorporated the fairytale au aspect of things. I know of zoro and one piece, but not enough to have an opinion on zoro's characterization in this vs canon material and so on, but the impression I received from this piece is that he's dutiful, righteous, and loyal. he may not always go about things in the right way but he has a strong conscience, tries to do the right thing, and is a good man at heart.

even tho zoro is a hunter, he fits the idea of a knight very well and I'm glad that you wrote him in as you did!! I love that he has this sort of, hm, obliviousness to the world and many things, as hinted at by him being embarrassed by mc's mischievousness in the beginning, once believing that the queen was what would be considered the epitome of beauty, and at the very end where you described him as "a boy born with a sword in his hand".

he's only ever known duty, to serve faithfully. so, throughout the story, when he's faced with mc who is set apart from past targets, that identity starts to unravel for him.

I really like mc as a character in this as well. from the beginning, there is a bit of an edge to her and a bit of inauthenticity that you make the reader aware of, but she comes across as charming and interesting to Zoro. I think the description that you gave about mc being all poisoned apples set off my "AHAAAAA" radar. she's also written as a bit mischievous, with an unusual sort of openness to her (e.g. the dancing and such) w/o really knowing zoro much at all beforehand.

the reveal at the end of her being the old witch's granddaughter, her being a witch herself, and the backstory is betrayal was done so well, so evocatively that I was thoroughly delighted by it. I'm so glad that you took that sort of route, and it really helps contextually with the rest of the story and the personality you'd built in the beginning!!!

a couple of my favorite details in this story were:

1) the mirror, mirror scene where it's mentioned that magic lies. that it will often conform to show what the user wants to see, as opposed to what it really is. that plays in very nicely at the end, again, where Zoro is like what about the heart? and mc's just like, old broad probably won't know the fuckin difference lmao.

2) the magic wine. how, for someone with no ill-intent, it will always simply be wine. but it obviously becomes malicious shapeshifting spell otherwise. that entire scene unraveled beautifully. the reactions and brief distrust were exquisite and appropriate. but, I think what I liked most about it was how he came around to his senses slowly by the eating the apple pie before launching into a panic.

the way he shuffled towards the door and used his foot to keep it open was a nice touch that stood out to me as well lmao.

admittedly, the pigsty segment was a fav as well because I love shitty men facing the consequences for shitty actions. and it's highly appropriate to turn shitty men into the pigs that they are, y'know? the realization falling on Zoro like a gradual downpour is amazing.

yet another detail I particularly enjoyed was how focused he was on mc's hands and the calluses on them. and then the smooth handles on the wooden bucket. him wondering about it, implying the countless days with it, and the many times of luring men into the woods to test them. Little things like that stand out!!!

I think you did spectacularly with the fairytale aspect of this story. you opened up the story in a remarkably potent way, like the pages of a storybook fluttering open with an omnipotent voice speaking to us before launching us into the stories within. wise words. warnings. truths.

from there on out, you certainly retained that dreamlike quality that often accomplices fairytales. it had its moments of whimsy, that saturated watercolor feel, the absurdity of the mirror and the gingerbread house and the pigsty with the berries (which is a very strong image in my head). you captured it in Zoro's attitude, his unwillingness to carry out the task for his queen and his gilded armor.

LIKE CHEFS KISSSSS

the writing itself was wondrous, elevated without being pretentious, your prose was gorgeous:

"sunshine of your smile", "midnight dark of your eyes"???? are you fucking KIDDING ME????? absolutely gorgeous. strong wordage, powerful delivery. you are not unnecessary with your descriptions. they hit just where they needed to and really lended well to this fairytale narrative

this was my other favorite:

"reverent palms", "exhaltant fingers", "wild birdwing beat of your heart..." GIIIIIRRLLLLL INSANE

your pacing and flow were excellent. I always say that if I can continuously scroll and move with my eyes as I read, and not hit a "snag" that's always a good sign that the see structure of your sentences is clean, or clear enough that I don't need to double back and reread them. I ran into absolutely zero issues.

THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL, FUN READ, YUI!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ME TO READ THIS BC K HAD SO MUCH FUNNNN

Zoro and the hunter's heart (as, you know, he's a former pirate hunter... nudge nudge)

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

a hunter's heart

opla!zoro; 6,553 words; fairytale retelling!au, fem!reader, no "y/n", hunter!zoro, fluff and angst (only a bit), hurt/comfort (kinda), mentions of witches and magic and curses

summary: there are some stories that the world can't stop telling

a/n: i should know better by now than to think an opla zoro fic could be anything but too involved... ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ tagging @dira333 bc its ur request and @bby-deerling bc u were kind enough to ask <3

It is a sordid tale, to hear the villager’s old witch tell it — one near and dear as the rise of the sun in the east, the set of the moon in the west, old as time itself. Because you see, there are some stories so ancient and so integral to the world that it bears, nay demands, retelling, reliving. Stories so stanch and certain that they wear groves into the truth of the world by the tracks they trail, over and over and over again. Stories that the world can never stop telling, no matter how hard it might want to or try.

This is one such tale.

“Take her into the forest — and bring me back her heart,” commanded the Queen.

The hunter had knelt before his queen and bowed his head, his swords heavy at his side. Inside his chest, his own heart was thundering, thundering. A storm brewing within the depths of his soul. But he’d schooled his expression straight and taken his orders.

You were nothing more than a kitchen maid, but you had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. All morning, he could hear it echoing through the cool stone halls as you went about your baking of the day’s fresh bread, your churning of the week’s soft butter. He’d lean against the wall just outside the kitchens to listen, to let the music of your voice wash over the ragged edges of his soul, to soothe his frayed ends, to mend what parts might have been broken.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering toward the gardens in the back of the castle grounds just to catch an echo of your voice near the wells, where he knows you’ll be in the early afternoons, collecting water for the day’s dinner service. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear it over the clink and clash of swords as he spars with his fellow knights and hunters, and he’d catch himself slowing, almost stilling, and those are the only times anyone’s ever managed to get the upper hand on him.

“C’mon doll, give us another tune.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, sing us a sea shanty! Or another one of your show tunes!”

Zoro frowns as he rounds the corner one day to find a few young knights leaning against the castle wall, towering over where you’re standing, a half-filled bucket of water clutched in your hands. He’s about to intervene when he hears the sound of splashing water, and a second later, the young knights are stumbling back, squawking with indignation as you huff, wiping your hands daintily on your apron.

“So sorry, seems like my hand’s slipped —” you drop into a rather sardonic curtsy before marching passed the stunned young men, leaving them blinking and drenched in your wake. Zoro chuckles, the sound making both of them whirl around, color rising ruddy into their cheeks. They sober immediately as they meet Zoro’s eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking them over.

“S-sorry sir… we just — we were uh —”

“Just leaving,” the second knight supplies as he grabs the first by the arm and tugs him back out into the courtyard.

Zoro watches them go with a muted amusement twisting his lips before turning back to find you peering up at him with a bright, steely light in your eyes. Your shoulder is pressed to the edge of the wall, your body half-hidden behind it as if you’re uncertain of what he might do. As if you’re uncertain of him.

“Sorry about them…” Zoro dips his head, suddenly very aware of how he must seem to you — just another one of the Queen’s toy soldiers, gilded in gold, touched by the sly silver of her cool, slithering magic. Would you think he’d be like them — like those bumbling idiots who couldn’t tell a board sword from a longsword? Who thought braveness and bravado one and the same? And suddenly, the thought that you might sickens him, and he swallows hard, hurrying to explain.

“Not all of us are…” Zoro’s voice trails off as he casts about for the right word — idiots? “Like them”? Neither seems to do it all justice.

He watches as you take half a step out from behind the stone wall’s cover and drop into a slight curtsey.

“I know.” And there’s a bright sheen to the soft whisper of your voice, a certainty that Zoro can’t quite place. And he knew then as he knows now that you — you are just a bit different. Just a bit more than he’d ever given you thought or credit for. Perhaps that was his mistake — he makes a mental note not to make it again.

“I know you’re not…” you wave a light hand towards where the other two knights had stumbled away, and the pinkness in your cheeks makes Zoro’s stomach do a few choice flips he’d never remembered his own stomach capable of till now.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then — you both break into laughter at the same time — him, a tad self-conscious, you, unbidden and bright as birdsong.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Your sparring form is really nice.”

You both speak at the same time, and in the startled quiet that stretches right after, Zoro finds himself held still by the weight of your eyes, the heaviness of your gaze as it rests on him, wide and startled and… almost pleased. He clears his throat and tries again —

“I hear you all the time —”

“I see you sometimes —”

It happens again, and when you both pause this time, he can see the burgeoning smile threatening to spill over your petal-pink lips; he can feel his own smile breaking like ice in spring’s first thaw.

“I don’t know much about music but —”

“It looks like you’re dancing —”

By the third time, Zoro’s starting to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, or perhaps he is — because what wouldn’t he do to keep on basking in the sunshine of your laughter, to soak in the brilliance of your smile? What stars and moons and planets wouldn’t conspire to align just for another chance to glance into the midnight dark of your eyes, as depthless as any sea, as wide as any self-respecting night?

“Well —” Zoro clears his throat; you purse your lips and wait for him to finish, “I’ve never danced…”

Mischief hinges on the edge of your smile as you peer up at him through your lashes, “You should try it sometime. I hear it’s quite the workout.”

And there’s something singing beneath the sweetness of your voice that hints at a darker, more intimate meaning to the word dance, but Zoro stops himself before his mind can unspool entirely. He sucks in a breath and chews over the words now sitting solid and unwieldy on his tongue —

“I’ve always thought dancing… required music and —” he swallows and forces his sentence onward like shepherding a stubborn and reluctant bull, “a partner.”

You let your held lilt sideways, watching him like a bird on a branch might consider a squirrel on the ground.

“It’s just… I’ve never quite had either before,” he hurries to explain, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and finally, he forces his eyes away from you, glancing up towards the piercingly blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. He curses inwardly, his eyes wandering for something — anything — to latch onto that’s not you and your mesmerizing eyes, with the universe caught behind them, or your lips, shaped so much like the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking for his whole, entire life.

He watches as you square your shoulders and take a half-step into his personal space, just the tips of your toes grazing into the proximity of too close and at the same time not nearly close enough — then, you dip into a curtsey, lowering your eyes so he has nothing to ground himself on except for the brief breath of your skin, the waft of your hair sweeping down over your shoulders, smelling so much like cotton and milk, salt and honey.

“But now, from where I’m standing…” you look up, and your smile is so much poisoned apples and cyanide, “you’ve got both, don’t you?”

Zoro sucks in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head spinning for a second too long and he almost stumbles. Almost. But he catches himself, and when he does, his body moves as a marionette on a string — as if his arms and legs already knew what his mind had for so long kept from him —

He dips into a bow, sweeping one arm over his stomach, the other out to the side. And there’s no dull, discordant clank of armor because hunters and soldiers are made different. Fighters, both, but hunters require a different kind of bloodlust, are a different strain of heartless.

You let out a soft laugh and Zoro wonders if there’s any better music in the world as he offers you his hand. You take it, and he draws your body near with reverent palms, exhaltant fingers — he can almost feel the wild birdwing beat of your heart fluttering in your chest, supplemented by the thundering of his own much more well-trained heartbeat, but even so, the dull pulse of it makes him feel heady with excitement — thump, thump, thump.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pair of you begin to dance. At first, just to the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths and his. And then, you smile up at him, a startling, chest-piercing, swan-song thing — as you begin to sing.

His first step is hesitant, and the second less so. By the third, Zoro feels his shoulders flattening out and his chest rising as he clasps your palms against his and takes the lead. You let him, with a tinkling laugh, your smile light and bright as daybreak. Your feet skip like pebbles across a mirror lake, and by the time he lets you go, the midday sun is beating down over the castle grounds and the lunch bell is ringing off in the distance. You skip out of his reach and drop into another curtsey —

“Seems like it’s past time for me to go.”

“But —” Zoro bites back the urge to chase after you, his body surging forward to try and stay within the warmth of your orbit.

“Tomorrow,” you breathe, your cheeks a bit too pink, grinning up at him with mischief in your eyes, “after the morning meal… I think I might have some more water to collect.”

You shoot him a meaningful wink as you sweep by him, humming beneath your breath as you go. You brush by him with a sweep of skirt-tails, and it’s a full minute before Zoro can form a coherent thought, whipping around to see the shadow of you disappearing around the corner of the long corridor that leads down to the kitchens.

Up above, neither of you sees the Queen with her blood-red nails clicking against the wide windowsill, her eyes trailing the shape of Zoro as he sucks in a long breath, and shakes himself, before heading back to the training grounds, his earrings catching the afternoon light in a series of gold-gilded sparks.

The next day, Zoro finds you dancing to a two-step by yourself, a bucket of water propped on your hip, the late morning sun caressing your skin like a lover’s fingers. And he finds himself held still by the sight of you, your eyes closed, your body swaying to the rhythm and breath of the earth, the sound of your voice filling the air as water might an already-full glass — spilling over and over till it soaks the earth between you both.

He clears his throat, and you open your eyes. You smile.

Almost sheepishly, he offers you a hand. You take it, and the half-filled bucket is left to teeter precariously on the well’s stone-worn edge as you laugh, letting Zoro pull you in, his palm pressing to the bend of your waist, fingers skimming the small of your back.

Three days, you dance. Three days of blissful mornings and sun-soaked afternoons. Three nights of moonlit walks and roses dipped in starlight.

Because the best things in the world always come in threes — but it just so happens that so do the worst.

Zoro feels his skin crawling when he receives the summons from the Queen. There is only one reason the Queen would summon a hunter like him — she’s found something (or someone) worthy of being hunted. He prays it will not take him away for long.

“Zoro…” the Queen purrs, barely turning to look at him as he bows his head, holding the pose for three beats before straightening. She reaches up to grace her fingers over the edges of an ornate mirror hanging on her wall — a mirror she covets. Zoro has seen its magic, the dull, rough-edged ache thrumming through the earth and the air like poison. He schools his expression into one of flat disinterest as he squares his shoulders.

“Your Highness.”

“I trust you’re familiar with my mirror?”

Zoro makes a soft noise of consent, cold slipping down his spine like cool fingers.

“Then… I trust you know what it does?” the Queen asks, peering at him through it’s dark, onyx reflection.

Zoro glances down, “I can’t say I do, Your Highness.”

“Well then, I’d say you’re in for a treat today —” she chuckles, the sound soft and slithering, her painted lips twisting up in a cruel smirk, “this is a magic mirror, you see… and it’s magic… tells the truth —”

Zoro remains quiet, waiting, waiting.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Zoro feels the air around him condensing, the temperature dropping as the heat siphons from the room into the mirror. The darkened surface swirls with a sickly, purple light before a pallid face appears, empty eye sockets and a hollow mouth. The skeletal reflection peers imperiously back up at the image of the Queen standing before it.

“… tell me, who is the fairest in all the land?”

The Queen preens in front of the mirror, and Zoro feels his stomach filling with lead weight at her question.

Once upon a time, he’d met a kindly old witch in the woods. Her hut had been made of something that looked curiously like gingerbread, and the flowers that decorated her windowsill had glimmered with the shine of tempered sugar. He had offered to help her carry a basket of waxy red apples from the market to her hut and in return, she’d offered him the answer to one question.

“What… exactly is magic?” he’d asked, young and uncertain.

She’d laughed a laugh that might’ve once been high and imperious but then had only sounded like an amused old woman faced with a question she hadn’t quite expected.

“Magic… well — I’ll tell you this — magic is always more than meets the eye, and never what it promises.”

Zoro had blinked, frowning as she’d peered up at him with a pair of mismatched eyes — one milky and filmed over, the other dark as crow’s feathers.

“What does… that mean?”

“It means… that sometimes, magic lies. Sometimes… magic only tells you what you want to hear. Sometimes, magic is more about what you think is true because in the end… that’s the only truth that matters.”

The magic mirror contemplates the Queen’s question as Zoro stands behind her, holding his breath.

“There is but one fairer than Your Highness —”

Zoro’s vision tunnels, the voice of the mirror thickening around him as if his head were suddenly submerged in water. Heat creeps up the back of his neck like spider’s legs, quick and skittering, and he knows the answer before the mirror says your name.

“I see…” the Queen muses, though Zoro can hear the hard edge in her voice, the light catching on it like a twisting blade as she turns back around to face him. And she is beautiful, there’s no denying — the Queen’s face was, up until very recently, what Zoro had thought true beauty must be like.

He’d understood it only in the most abstract, academic sense — beauty — had only ever nodded when the other knights and hunters had wolf-whistled at the rosy-cheeked maids that dotted the castle, scattered along the halls like handfuls of sugar.

The first time he saw the Queen, he’d wondered at the perfect proportions of her eyes and nose, the dark, certain arch of her brows, the cruel tug at the ends of her painted lips and he’d thought — ah, is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he’d seen you, hadn’t he? And your face — he knows it is not perfect, he’s leaned in close enough to see the texture that mars your cheeks, the way one side of your mouth always lilts up first in a smile, the flecks that adorn your eyes like lost shards of sunlight caught beneath your lashes —

Beautiful, he’d thought.

Later, he wonders if that moment might’ve been your doom.

“Take her into the forest,” the Queen says, smiling her cruel, cruel smile as she watches Zoro lower his head, “and bring me back her heart.”

Zoro swallows hard as he bows.

You are waiting for him the next morning, just after breakfast, your hands laced behind your back, an empty bucket resting precariously along the edge of the well.

“No dancing today,” Zoro says, his voice clipped and low, his gaze darting away toward the darkness of the forest behind you. You blink up at him before following his gaze.

“Then… will you accompany me on a walk?”

Zoro frowns, nearly wincing away from you as you lean in, grinning your sly fox’s grin.

“But…”

“Oh, don’t tell me a hunter like you’s scared of the forest.” You dance away from him before he can protest, reaching for the bucket and propping it on your right hip, “C’mon, I promised the head cook I’d pick some berries for the feast tonight. Didn’t you hear? The Queen’s finally found a spell for eternal youth and beauty.”

Zoro stares after you as you pick your way across the garden, making for the wrought-iron gates that separate the castle grounds from the wilderness beyond.

“A spell for…” Zoro’s frown deepens as you glance at him over your shoulder with a sad little smile.

“They say the Queen was cursed by a powerful witch to always search for that which she can never have.”

Zoro keeps behind you as you meander into the shadow of the trees, seemingly following a trail only you can see, occasionally stopping to bend over a burst of bright red berries, picking a few and tossing them into your bucket before pressing one to your lips. He watches as berry juice dark as blood tints your lips and trickles down the edge of your mouth.

“Did you know… that there are only three ways to break a witch’s curse? One is for the witch herself to lift the curse.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, your eyes shine like twin stars.

“Another is to kill the witch and all those who cared for her.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, the lopsided lilt of your smile flashes white, and sharp, dripping dark red —

Zoro’s sword is in his hand before he realizes, and suddenly, every twig-snap and leaf-rustle sets his bones on edge. The wind tastes sweet on his tongue, swirls thick with magic as he whirls around, searching for the silhouette of you and finding nothing but endless, pressing dark.

“Zoro?” your voice nearly makes him stumble as he twists around, eyes wide, chest heaving, only to find the tip of his sword resting against the delicate hyphen of your clavicle. Your breath hitches, soft as he’d always remembered it, but you don’t pull away; you don’t even flinch as you stare up at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Are you going to kill me?” your voice is low and smooth, without a single flicker of fear.

Zoro’s grip loosens as he forces himself to pull back. He hisses out a breath and shakes loose his shoulders.

“No,” he says, his own voice coarse, clipped, “I’m not. But —”

“Oh good — that would’ve made things rather awkward for our date.”

Zoro gapes as you laugh, twirling around to continue on your way through the forest. He hastens after you a few seconds later, brushing aside low-hanging branches and shouldering passed thicker bits of underbrush.

“D-date?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sounding very pleased as you lead him on, and on, and on, “you wouldn’t want to miss it — grandma’s baking pie.”

“What… ” but his words trail off once more as you turn and make towards a clearing that he’s certain wasn’t there a moment ago — a clearing with a tiny hut that looks as if it’s made of gingerbread. The flowers on the windowsill glitter jewel-bright and candy-hard.

“My grandma’s house,” you say, smiling as you push through the door with your bucket of blood-red berries still perched on your hip.

Zoro’s frown carves ever harder into his brows as he follows after you on hesitant feet, though he can’t help the way his muscles loosen the second he steps over the small hut’s threshold and catches a whiff of something wonderful in the air — cinnamon and sugar and apples.

“Ah, you’ve made it just in time!” the old witch looks up from where she’s tending a vast fire that casts the entire hut in a warm, ethereal glow. Zoro glances back at the open patch of cloudless blue sky somehow visible in a small gap between the trees before stepping in.

“Apple pie again, grandma?”

“Your favorite,” the old witch replies with a grin as you set the bucket on the small wooden table, “And I see you’ve brought a guest, though…” the old witch’s single black eye catches the firelight as she peers are Zoro, still standing just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you again, young man.”

Zoro bows, rather awkwardly, and though it’s been many years since he’d helped the old woman with her apples, she looks exactly the same. He can’t say quite the same for himself.

“Come, sit! Have some berry wine,” you say, ushering Zoro towards the table, where you’ve somehow replaced the bucket with two jars of red liquid that glimmers like garnets in the flickering firelight. You pour a glass and nudge it towards Zoro, who simply stares, trying very hard to wrap his head around what must be happening.

A dull, thrumming ache is gathering at the base of his skull, but the pie smells so sweet and the wine looks ever so tantalizing.

He reaches out and takes a sip, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. He feels it slither through him, sending tiny pin-pricks of heat trailing along his limbs as he swallows.

“Ah… so he’s not like the rest of them.”

He blinks down at the wine in his cup for a second more before you reach out and tug it from his hand. A soft palm cups his cheek and forces his face up. He meets your eyes and finds them searching.

“You weren’t lying… you really hadn’t planned on killing me.”

You sound almost surprised as your grandma chuckles behind you, the noise like the clack of old stones against one another.

“I told you he was different,” the old witch says, slowly slicing a bit of pie and putting it on a plate.

“All men think they’re different,” you say, your voice resigned as you take the slice of pie and set it in front of Zoro, “Right, now eat — it’ll make you feel better. I’m sorry about that… just… you can never be sure.”

The old witch tuts, shaking her head, “A broken heart is it’s own kind of curse, you know.”

Zoro blearily takes a bite of cake and feels his senses returning to him one by one; he takes stock of them as if he’d forgotten entirely that he’d lost them in the first place. As he chews and swallows once, twice — by the third time he can feel the tightness in his muscles returning as panic and confusion flood his system.

He jerks up from the table and reaches for his sword.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” you say, though you sound hesitant as you hold up a hand, your expression earnest as you take half a step back.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he seethes, looking between you and the old witch, uncertain of who to aim his anger at.

“I had to be sure,” you say again, your voice imploring as you inch forward, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah well —” Zoro gulps past the dryness in his mouth as he narrows his eyes, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

You wince ever so slightly, looking away, “No, you’re right but… please,” you say again, and the word works like magic as it settles over Zoro’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s actual magic, but no — there’s no strange sweetness in the air, no thick fog threatening to cloud over his judgment.

“It might be quicker to show him,” the old witch suggests, still watching the pair of you with her one oil-black eye, sounding pleasant and entirely unfazed.

“Right… yes —” you sigh, motioning for the door, “The sty is just out behind the hut — you can go out first if you’d like,” you offer.

Zoro looks between you and the door before inching back and edging open the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you follow him with light, muted movements.

The air outside is crisp and cool and Zoro can’t help sucking in a breath as he steps out from the halo of the firelit hut. Grass crunches beneath his feet, birds sing overhead. There’s the lingering heat of magic still crackling in the air, but when his gaze falls back onto you, he finds you no less lovely than he’d done the first time.

“This way,” you say, rounding the edge of the hut and leading him towards a sizeable pigsty that he’d completely failed to notice the first time he’d been here as a young boy.

A looming sense of dread calcifies in the base of his stomach as he approaches the pigsty on heavy feet. The pigs all jostle against one another, snorting and snuffling with their noses pressed into the long feeding pen. From the pockets of your skirt, you produce a handful of bright red berries and toss it into the pen. Zoro watches with mixed fascination and mounting horror as the pigs tumble over each other to forage for the fruit in the dried hay and mud.

“Have you ever heard the saying that… there are some stories the world never stops telling?” your voice is quiet and sad as you reach over to skim your knuckles along the pale pink snout of a snorting pig.

And suddenly, Zoro understands — he doesn’t know if it was a trick of the light or perhaps the magic still working its way through his system but the understanding comes like a rainstorm, a few tiny droplets before the downpour. And were he a weaker man, he might’ve back and tried to make a run for it. But instead, he stands and stares with a strange pity welling up inside him at the lolling tongues and flopping ears.

“These were all men — hunters,” he says, his words slow at first, but picking up speed as he continues to speak, “Who tried to lure you into the wood to —”

“To kill me, yes, so that they could give the Queen my heart. Because you see, the heart of a witch would give her what she so desperately desires —”

“Eternal youth,” Zoro breathes.

“And the first time, I was heartbroken,” you turn away from him, pressing a hand to your heart, “But I managed to get away. And instead of going back empty-handed to face the Queen’s wrath, the hunter caught a wild boar in the forest and cut out its heart instead. Only — an old she-wolf had been hunting the boar for days, and was robbed of a meal. She and I… we came across each other and I was so — so hurt that I offered her my heart in return for putting me out of my misery.”

Zoro presses his lips as your words rush from you in a great wave, pieces of truths crystalizing before him even as they continue to shatter the world he thought he’d known.

“She told me then that… no man is worth dying for, especially not one who would lie to you just to steal your heart. And she offered to teach me —” you wave a hand at the pigsty, “And the rest…”

The soft silence that stretches between you is thin and pained. You cradle your hands to your chest as if trying to stem the hurt of some unspeakable heartbreak.

“And… the wine?” he asks.

Your face lifts and a strike of that familiar, mischievous light returns to your eyes as you grin.

“That was something I brewed up on my own — if the drinker bears me any ill intentions, then it’ll turn them into something a bit more… fitting of their true hearts. But if not then…” you grace him with a soft smile, “Then it’ll only ever just be wine, though a bit on the stronger side.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

A brief silence falls between the pair of you as the sky above begins to shift from blue to a soft lavender.

“You said… the first time,” Zoro says, curiosity now burgeoning from beneath the receding shock of the day, “Do you make a habit of luring men into the woods, then?”

You scoff, “Luring? Hardly. Magic can only do so much, and though the odd enchanted trinket will sell well at the monthly market, people still tend to be wary around witches.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Zoro says dryly, his eyes flickering toward the sty where the pigs, finally satisfied that there are no more berries to be found, have settled into the thick stacks of hay, grumbling and snorting.

You allow him a derisive smile, “Yes well — a girl and her grandmother still have to eat and bathe, and you can only stand so much apple pie before it starts to get a little old. So… I keep a job at the castle. Believe it or not, serving a self-obsessed Queen pays well. And all those… men —” you force out the word like spitting out poison, “Had seemed… good. At least at first.”

Zoro remains quiet as you pause, looking down at your own hands. It’s the first time he notices the light calluses that mar your palms, not so different from his own. He wonders at the smoothness of the handles on the wooden bucket you’d carried so easily through the woods, at how long it must’ve taken for a pair of hands like yours to wear them down so. The old witch’s words echo in his mind — a broken heart is it’s own kind of curse.

“Is that how you got so good at dancing?” he asks.

You grin, giving him a sidelong glance, “Perhaps.”

Zoro sighs, tilting his head back to look at the small patch of visible sky, now a deep, bruising purple.

“So. Now what?”

You echo his sigh, looking up as well, “You can go back, if you’d like.”

“And what? Tell the Queen that you got away?”

Your smile hardens ever so slightly, “Or, you could kill something else in the forest and offer her it’s heart instead.”

“But wouldn’t she know? After she ate it and doesn’t gain eternal youth?”

You shrug, looking away, “You’d be surprised what a person can trick themselves into believing, if they just try hard enough.”

Zoro nods, letting his eyes fall back down to his hand, resting idle against the hilt of his sword.

“Or, I could stay.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it — and perhaps it was the darkness of the forest, the close, flustered whisper of the leaves, or perhaps it was the lingering sweetness of your home-brewed wine and the tantalizing smell of magic and cinnamon still in the air. But he says it, and he finds that even the strange, still shocked moment after, he doesn’t regret it.

“You… you want to stay?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so uncertain before.

“Why not? I can’t go back and…” he motions at the hut and the soft ring of warm firelight seeping out from the tiny windows, “The wine’s not bad.”

And perhaps for the first time, Zoro thinks, he sees you smile — a smile that isn’t sharp and full of hidden teeth. A smile that’s helpless and hopeful and just a little bit pained. He smiles back and hopes —

“C’mon then… you can help with the fire. And carry the water.”

“Hn. But you seemed so good at it.”

You shoot him a slight pout as the pair of you duck back into the hut to the smell of roasting vegetables.

There are some stories the world can never stop telling, stories so old that the sing harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf, a grandmother, and a girl in the woods. Once upon a time, an old witch built a house of gingerbread to lure in the lives of unheedful children. Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic mirror. Once upon a time, a witch lived alone in a secluded hut and lured men to her table only to turn them into the pigs they’d always been inside.

Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to dance.

Once, a boy told the truth and the girl didn’t believe him, because all the boys who’d broken her heart before had given her no reason not to. And a heart can only be broken so many times before it, too, gets tired.

Once, she thought that broken hearts could never be mended.

But she should’ve known that stories, like the magic they hold, very rarely tell the truth. Or perhaps, they too only tell the truths that the listener wants to hear, or is ready to hear. Never more, never less.

So, here is another story — one that’s not so frequently told, but is just as true as the others —

Once, there was a boy who was born with a sword in his hand, who had never know that his body could hold so much music or laughter. Then, he met a girl with the most beautiful voice in all the land, and he, like so many before him, fell in love. Only, the girl had been hurt by all those before him, and no longer trusted the words of boys with sword-hilt smiles and rough, callused fingers. But when he asked her to dance, she agreed anyway, and when she introduced him to her grandmother and offered him wine, he did not hesitate. Instead, he asked if he could stay the night.

That was a long, long time ago.

There will always be another girl with a pretty voice and a viper’s smile at the castle beyond the woods, and always another young knight too eager to please his Queen. There will always be apples at the morning market and magic in the air. But perhaps the pieces don’t fall right where they ought to; perhaps they never did. Perhaps the stories we tell are only ever stories.

“You told me once that there were three ways to lift a curse,” Zoro asks one day, a wooden bucket in one hand, three swords strapped to his opposite hip.

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking up from the large pot of soup bubbling over the fire, a song threading beneath your breath as you sway back and forth.

Zoro grunts as he puts the bucket on the worn wooden table, walking over to slip an around your middle and hook his chin over your shoulder. You laugh as you let yourself be pulled back into his embrace.

“You only ever told me two.”

“Ah… right —” you smile, a smile that is no longer jagged but worn soft around the edges, as if all the sharpness has been smoothed over by years and years of tenderness, years and years of trust, of love.

“So?”

“So…” you place down the wooden spoon and turn to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as his large, callused palms settle around your waist. The pair of you sway to a song that only the two of you can hear, a song that sings harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

“The third way to break a curse is the easiest… but also the hardest way, depending on who you are,” you say, smiling and swaying in Zoro’s arms. Like this, you can see the late afternoon light as it pours through the small window and catches on the dull gold of his triplet earrings.

“It’s a simple thing, really,” you say, as Zoro leans down to press his forehead to yours, your breaths dancing in the negative space between your bodies. Outside, an old witch sits on a rocking chair and admires the sunset. Occasionally, she reaches into her skirt pockets for a handful of berries to toss into the pigsty to her right.

“Oh yeah? How simple?” Zoro asks.

“Why…” you lean up on your tiptoes, your nose brushing his, your lips mere inches apart. Behind you, bottles and bottles of home-brewed wine sit along the mantle of the great stone fireplace, the color bright and true and freshly spilled blood.

“It’s as simple as a kiss from your one true love, of course.”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

the thing about Lucanis and Spite is like. neither of them actually wanted to be there. and that is both how they were able to survive the melding and why they resent each other so much. Lucanis' banter about the Ossuary where he says to survive it he "Shut down completely. Think nothing. Feel nothing. Except what you need to escape." And when asked what's left he says "If you're lucky? Revenge. And bad dreams." like. he always had this core of his own personal spite down in him (not doing crow jobs the easy way, ignoring Caterina's summons, not embracing his future as a potential first talon, to "live truly is to live fully" but he HASN'T been allowed to and resents it, etc etc etc) but in the Ossuary he really hollows himself out into the perfect vessel, empties himself of everything but wanting to survive anyway. and "no one was in the Ossuary by choice, not even the demons" so of course he and Spite can agree on this One Thing. they make their deal that they're gonna make it through just because everyone else there is waiting for them to die, and of course they're not gonna just give them what they want. even if they're fighting each other the whole time (hence Lucanis being used to Spite 'hitting' him etc when he doesn't get what he wants), they still have this united purpose Every Day about getting through it. like it's utterly crucial that for both to survive at all the demon had to be something that wanted to defy what the venatori wanted from it.

and this is also why their relationship falls apart once they do escape, because without something else present to rail against every day, they have to turn on each other. and of course it is actually an absolutely miserable situation for both of them to be in--Lucanis is living the nightmare of his body being puppetted around without his consent, just like the blood magic he already had to endure under Zara, and can't ever be alone again even in his own mind. Spite is trapped in a world that no longer responds to his shaping, lacks the autonomy of a truly possessed host body, and can barely comprehend the new laws that govern the place he's in.

for both of them it's such an intense violation of being, and one I wish got more emphasis/recognition. it's really easy to make jokes about how Lucanis could be better at sharing/compromise with Spite more (like I make them too myself, it's easy) but really just... man. this isn't like with Anders & Justice, who agreed to their situation, or Wynne where Faith is content to be mostly a silent passenger and did it to save her life. Lucanis and Spite are suffering the most complete form of intimacy under the worst circumstances, and neither actually wanted it. which makes it honestly impressive at all that (unhardened) Lucanis & Spite are able to reach an accord at all by the end. like i'm glad that they did--and have SO many thoughts (& fanfic WIPs lol) exploring just how they managed to get there--but boy was it hard won, if you actually look deeper into it than the game has room to explore.

[sixbeee]

Comics NightSilver ⚔👟 (feat. Strawpage Answers)

Since I know that these two have absolutely no connection in the comics, I'm actually not very interested in the comics...😂(sorry)

If there is a comic where these two meet, please let me know. (I'll definitely draw Evo nightsilver later.)

And there are so many different appearances and costumes in the comics that I don't really know how to draw them… I did draw them, but it felt like I drew them however I wanted. 🤣🤣

🗣 Hahaha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 am I a naval officer? Six of you, are you sailors on my ship? (Just kidding) I will do my best to operate this ship. Please follow my tempo. 🎶

🗣 I'm really happy that you support my art and Nightsilver. (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ)♥ Thanks to you, I feel really encouraged.

🗣 This message also really encourages me. This means that you like my painting itself. Thank you! ⸜( Ꙭ̮ )⸝ෆ

🗣 i love you (੭♡ڡ♡)੭・°‧ ﾟ❤

🗣 Hehehe, first of all, THX My Nightsilver story began in 2016 when the X-Men Apocalypse movie was released. It all started when I fell in love with Quicksilver during the school explosion rescue scene. At that time, I only liked Peter. So I went to the theater and watched that movie often. As I looked, I noticed that Peter kept looking at someone. It was Kurt.... (For more details, plz refer to this post.) From that moment on, they realized they were interested in each other. I used to fantasize about their daily lives and training a lot, well, my fantasies became reality in the Dark Phoenix movie… I was reborn then.

🗣 Really?! I'm glad you feel that way. I wanted to decorate it aesthetically, but I don't have any talent for this kind of decoration. As I kept adding this and that, the site ended up being as messy as Peter Maximoff's basement. 😂

Strawpage still doesn't show picture messages. I saw a tweet saying that someone sent a picture message. But I can't see it now… It's really sad. I hope this bug gets fixed soon.

Thank you all for visiting my straw page ❤

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP on Wednesday Thursday

Well, first of all, my WIP folder is currently looking like this:

But fuck it, we ball right?

I got tagged by @din-cognito and @avastrasposts this week, and @the-blind-assassin-12 and @lotusbxtch last week, so I've got some catching up to do! I've been all over the place working on different docs, so you're getting a few tidbits this week.

I've posted snippets of this before (and lo! a hozier title! I'm gonna have to change that though because the story ended up going differently than planned), and after it having been on hold for months, the pieces are coming together at last.

let me wrap my teeth around the world (working title) | Santiago x Frankie “You think we did the right thing there?” Santiago says, staring at the ceiling as he avoids Frankie's eyes. Unsure he really wants to hear the answer, because of how likely it is that he is the only person who can’t answer that with a decisive yes. Fish was the only one on their team - besides Tom - who'd had a family to take care of, who needed that money probably more than any of them did because of his pilot license being suspended. “I mean... Following his lead with the money.” No answer. The deafening silence lasts for much too long. Santi grimaces as he closes his eyes. Shit. Why did he even ask? He keeps fucking up like this.

Next we've got a WIP that I haven't worked on in a bit (it wanted to go on break, bummerrr) but that I'm hoping to pick up very soon.

Untitled | Reynaldo x Matthew It’s those large hands that draw Matt’s attention first.  That, and the golden chain partially but-not-quite hiding under that checkered golf shirt, glistening every now and then in the bright afternoon sun. It’s almost as bright as the gleam in Sophie’s eyes when she throws back a shot and listens to the older man introduce himself as Reynaldo. Matt is only vaguely aware of the prepared talk that the man launches into, a few words standing out, such as ‘exclusive members only’ and ‘the best golf club in all of Arizona’. Things that everybody wanted to hear, and that gave Sophie all the more opportunity to coo at the man how this was ‘one of the best premium golf clubs’ she’d ever been at. It probably isn’t all that premium though, considering the Scotts and Dale had been able to book this place on a budget. And truth be told, it’s still unclear to Matt why they are here on a ‘vow renewal bachelor staycation’, which seemed a contradiction on its own. Or even why Sophie showed up here, acting like one of the guys, just long enough until she found someone who was willing to give her the attention she was clearly looking for. He’d seen the pattern before, especially with the girls on the Kel-squad. None of that matters though, he tries to remind himself as they make their way up to the golf course. He’s simply glad to get away from Kelsey for a couple of days - not just for some peace and quiet, but also so he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s talking to Domingo every time she smiles at an incoming message on her phone.

Finally, this last one is still in the VERY early stages, but ngl... I'm excited. Thank you to the folks who encouraged me to keep going with it! This is hella out of my comfort zone but what the hell, that's where the fun is, right? This one is going to more filth than I'll probably be able to shove into an one shot... so it may end up becoming two or three parts. We'll see.

for glory (working title) | Harry Castillo Harry is speechless, shock painted over his features, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. "You wouldn't dare to," he finally manages to say, and what had previously been surprise in his eyes has now flipped into unmistakeable rage. "Mmm, is that so, Harry? What - you think I've got morals or something?"

EDIT: WAIT!! I forgot to add one final excerpt! This is from a yet to be decided chapter from Joel and Marcus Moreno' story. I spent way too much time trying to find the right face claim moments for them at different ages, and this is what I settled on for their mid-twenties:

Joel in his mid-twenties (a.k.a. Zach Wellison in Brothers & Sisters)

Marcus Moreno in his late twenties (a.k.a. looking like Comandante Veracruz from the Burn Notice movie).

Yes, I'm as shocked as y'all are about the latter, but I promise it'll make sense. As for the excerpt:

Untitled series | Joel Miller x Marcus Moreno Marcus folds his arms as he leans back against the wall, looking every bit the charismatic guy most people know him to be. But Joel has known him a long time and can see where the varnish has cracked, and the parts he so desperately tries to cover up.  "So you don't like it. How I look. You don't like me anymore," Marcus says after a moment, and there’s something about all that combativeness on display - as well as the bitter irony of those words - that hits Joel much harder than he was prepared for. He doesn’t have the same defense system that Marcus clearly is equipped with; the mask that he can put on and off so easily after years of practice. So he just shakes his head. "Think it's been too long since you've had someone push back against you, M." "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Joel tries to hide his sigh by drinking from his coffee, but the beverage has gone cold, the stale taste of it now bitter on his tongue in a way that feels oddly specific to this situation. "Don't pick a fight with me because you're unhappy, Marcus," he says softly.

I know a lot of y'all already posted a WIP Wednesday, so I'm just gonna link a couple of folks, no pressure as always (apologies if you've already made your weekly WIP update):

@perotovar @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem @qveerthe0ry

@letsgobarbs @gothcsz @milla-frenchy @guiltyasdave @oliveksmoked

@magpiepills @arcanefox207 @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @clubsoft

@romanarose @the-blind-assassin-12

[zepskies]

👀👀 Oh Dean is that how you always say thank you? lol

ahahaha probably not. 😝

Is that a little Friends reference there?

Ooh girl you know it is! 😘 There are a LOT of them in this part especially lol.

Oh Lisa, I imagine a get together to celebrate is the last thing anyone is going to want to do right after giving birth. I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt here and assume she's trying to be nice and wants to feel included.

Right?? lol Poor mom just wants to rest, and Dean sees that in that scene. But my HC was that yes, Lisa's just trying to be "a part of it," but she's going about it the wrong way. 😅

5 YEARS??!! I just wanted to shout at them here, they've gone 5 years and still haven't worked out they should be together! I can kind of understand it though, there has been a lot of misunderstandings and miscommunication happen from the beginning with these two.

Suuuuper fucking frustrating, right? lol But yes, the central theme here is misunderstanding/miscommunication, and that follows them until the end unfortunately. 😅

Oh she's with Benny. I can understand that he's a good guy. I have a feeling he may end up getting hurt though.

Once again, your instincts are spot on (unfortunately for Benny). 🥲🥲

Ah Lisa has picked up on it, although I don't think Robbie's birthday party was the best time to start bringing that up.

Like, her point is totally valid, but maybe not at a 5 year old's birthday party? 😅

Lisa really hit a nerve didn't she and the bike is where his frustration is really coming out.

Oh yeah you nailed it. Dean's pissy-ness here is in large part stemming from him not liking the idea of reader and Benny potentially getting married. 🥲

Hmm... interesting 🤔 That whole scene between Dean and Lisa after they left the restaurant was so sad. I did feel sorry for Lisa there it must be so difficult having to face up to the realisation that the person you are in a relationship with is in love with someone else.

Right? The emergency contact thing was super telling imo.

I'm glad you felt for Lisa - that scene was really the biggest thing to try and redeem her from Part 1. She doesn't deserve all the push and pull Dean has put her through either, and the way she finally lets him go and tells him to fight for his family is a true credit to her strength and character growth at this point. 💜

Although poor Benny! I was afraid he was going to get hurt...

I knowwww, poor Benny really gets the worst of it. 🥺 He doesn't deserve what happens, and that he feels he has to transfer out of Firehouse 83 because he just can't be friends/work with Dean anymore. It's too painful. It just shows how we can unintentionally hurt those closest to us by keeping things inside/not being honest -- which now that I think about it, was a theme SPN touched on a lot between Sam and Dean.

Perfect ending to this lovely story. I thoroughly enjoyed this lovely 💖

Aw thank you so very much, lovely!! I'm so glad you enjoyed If I Stay, despite the angsty ride. 😅 Stay tuned for an epilogue in hopefully the near future! 💕💕

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[ronearoundblindly]

Hello bestie! I was just thinking about how 'Superhero AU' isn't usually something the non-Steve CE Babes get to partake in. What do you think everyone's superpowers might be?

My mind is awash with possibilities, I can't wait to see what you come up with!

This. THIS was so unbelievably fun I could answer it in like 12 hours, wow. Honestly, I'm just sooooo glad you made this throwaway comment yesterday because my brain went brrrr and never quit! Love ya. Magical. No notes. And no warnings just fun!

James Mace - Mind Control

My beautiful, practical babe, bless. Mace is forever trying to choose the best, most efficient path forward, and he is endlessly irritated by people who argue with him or can't see that. If he could only tweak their mind to see his reasoning, everything would go a lot smoother and faster. Mace would love to have that control, and I truly think he would not abuse that power...much.

Curtis Everett - Super Strength

Curtis is keeping it simple--he'd like to pummel bad people. The end.

Sure, he can use unflagging, inhuman strength to help a lot, but the first and real goal is to stop those making terrible choices on behalf of those who cannot choose. Curtis has that violent side. He needs to let it out in a positive and beneficial way.

Jimmy Dobyne - Invisibility

He has a manually intensive job that doesn't require much intelligence, but I think Jimmy would love spying in a meaningful way. He's halfway there already, being invited to and blending in at upper crust parties, so why not gather up some info that can be used to stop those manipulative people from profiting off those like him, huh? There's a small part of this that is Jimmy simply not wishing to be seen sometimes, and every once in a while he'd like to not be found at 5am to start working. Let the man sleep in once or twice, jeez...

Johnny Storm - X-ray Vision

Ok, even I have to laugh at this one, but I also had to think about Johnny the longest! At first it hit me that maybe he'd still want to fly, but since he was already a pilot of all sorts, that might not be necessary. Then I considered he'd want to manipulate things like Sue, but nah, that seemed too...indirect for him??

Finally, I decided that there's an ability Johnny may have been hoping for since he was a boy--he'd like to see through walls. Yeah, he wanted to check out girls in the locker room for a while, or he'd like to win tons at a casino by seeing what cards are coming up. Then I kept having this idea he'd be more like Iron Man with Jarvis's heads-up display?? Again, weird, I know, but Johnny is military and NASA trained. He's a pilot and was supposed to be an explorer, so wouldn't it be awesome for him to see beyond barriers!!! It's sorta perfect, no?

Jake Jensen - Control of Machines

Duh. He's already trying this IRL, so of course Jake wants to innately have machines do anything he desires. Pretty sure he's first on the waitlist for every new 'doll' robot anyway. This power would practically mean he could make his own perfect woman, and he could remain as awkward as he likes lol.

Lloyd Hansen - Mind Control

Big shock--people annoy Lloyd. His life would be a lot easier if everybody just did what he said, no questions asked, and with no regard for their safety...especially since Lloyd has no regard for their safety. He doesn't care. He would absolutely abuse this power. That is the whole point.

Ari Levinson - Teleportation

Seems like the type of impatient who get an order or an idea and needs to get started now. Let's go. He needs to be in another part of the city? the country? the world? Well then why isn't he there yet? He needs to extract people from danger? What are we waiting for?! Blink: he's there. Blink: he's back. Person: safe. Object: recovered. What's next?

Ransom Drysdale - Invisibility

Basically so he can steal stuff he wants and mess with people, but Ran is also good at gathering information to use against his family people. Whatever power you give him, he's using it selfishly, end of story.

Andy Barber - Time Manipulation

Being able to move around a crime scene before anything can disturb it would be great, but being able to rewind what happened? maybe even stop it? That's ideal. I think in a way Andy is tired of helping to get justice after something terrible has happened. He would thrive with a preventative power.

Steve Rogers - Healing

This one almost feels like a giveaway because he could have saved his mother from TB, and Steve would obviously have never wished for a damaging power. He won't even carry a gun for goodness sake, and while he is absolutely there to fight bad guys, hitting, injuring, or taking down bad guys directly PROTECTS GOOD PEOPLE. He doesn't want anyone to die, actually. Steve would just show up at a different hospital everyday and clear the place out. That's like his dream job.

Bucky Barnes - Telekinesis

He admires the magical abilities of, say, Gandalf in The Hobbit & LOTR, and while I guarantee he'd totally show up at a crazy shrine school in freaking Tibet to silently study magic for years, Bucky would also just...love to be able to move stuff with his mind. He was a sniper in the army and as Winter Soldier, so distance from the thing he's affecting has always been a goal. Bucky would totally enjoy a sort of 'hands off' ability.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: I would be VERY INTERESTED to know what powers you think these guys would want/have, so please share your thoughts!!

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[pikapitou]

wip day of the week

@effervescentwolf tagged me. some wednesday. to post a wip! thank you wolf... I don't know if I'll get around to finishing this presumed deaddie thing bc it's weird to write an arc while the show is. co-currently writing that arc at the same time as you. but i wanna share the opening scene :) idk who's writing these days... @tallsinspace if u wanna share anything pls feel free. anyway without further ado.

Three days without contact is not that long. Buck tries to convince himself of that fact, but he had also tried to convince himself that two days wasn't that long; twenty-four hours; twelve. He checks his phone again. Eddie still hasn't read his last message, or the one before that, or the ten before that. His leg is bouncing so hard that Hen and Chim's solitaire game jitters on the table, Kings mixing with the Queens.

Hen sighs. "Buck," she says, and waits for him to glance up at her, "if something was going on, I'm sure someone would—"

He's shaking his head before she finishes. "I'm—" his voice rasps worse than he expected, and he swallows with a click. "I'm not his emergency contact anymore. When he started at his station, he—yeah."

Eddie had sounded so apologetic about it, even though it was probably stupid for Buck's name to be there for as long as it was after he moved. It's not like Buck can do anything to help Eddie from here.

And the other thing? Buck had thought, and didn't ask, and kept thinking about, and not asking.

There's a pause, and he just knows they're exchanging one of those sad, little looks everyone keeps giving each other whenever they think he's acting especially pathetic. He's glad he didn't see it; if he did he might scream.

"You could text his mom?" Chim offers, then very quickly adds in a way that means Hen just raised an eyebrow at him, "Not that I think anything's wrong."

Buck turns his phone over and over and over in his hands. He doesn't have her number. He'd asked for it, before Eddie left, and Eddie had gotten quiet in that bad way, told him nothing was going to happen, which he knew as a first responder was never a fact, so that just meant he didn't want Buck to have it. Buck hadn't pushed, because—he didn't know why. Because if that was what Eddie needed to do, then Buck was going to let him do it.

He could text Chris, but if he texted Chris is your dad okay? and Eddie was okay, just busy, or ignoring him, or lost his phone in the El Paso desert, then it would be—it would be a whole thing, and Eddie was handling it. Alone. Because Eddie handled everything alone.

His phone buzzes in his hands—startling him so bad that he drops it, clattering onto the table at full volume and full vibration and mixing the solitaire game beyond salvation.

"See," Hen says, poorly masking her own relief.

Buck fumbles for his phone and—stares. Then he answers at the same time that he untangles himself from the chair and heads for the railing of the station loft for the illusion of being out of earshot. "Chris," he says, almost all air, "hey—"

"Do you just"—there's a vitriol in Chris's voice that would have made Buck stumble if he were walking—"not care or something?"

Reflexively, Buck looks over his shoulder at the table; Hen and Chim not bothering to hide that they're watching. They make eye contact, and maybe any other time it would be comforting, but right now there's only one other person in the world he wishes was here for this conversation.

"I always care, Chris," Buck says, keeping his voice calm and careful as he starts down the stairs, thinking in the back of his mind about the bunkroom or maybe outside; if the alarm goes he'll have to be the man behind, no other option. "I care like crazy, but could you tell me what's wrong?"

On the other end Chris sucks in this sharp breath that has Buck bracing for another drop of acid—but nothing comes. All he hears is Chris's ragged breathing, each hitch making Buck's heart lurch in his chest.

"Chris?" he asks. "Hey, c'mon, can you talk to me?"

"Did," Chris starts, and the anger has drained so completely from his voice that he just sounds unbearably small, "did abuela not tell you?"

Buck didn't make it to the bunkroom. He didn't make it outside. He's stuck, exposed, in the middle of the firehouse as the Earth slides off its axis into the death spiral of a blackhole.

"Tell me what?" he asks.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I was rewatching some of the earlier seasons and s2's ending is almost Perfectly set up for a Final Battle Situation. The big bad is in person and powered up, all the heroes are there, etc.

Now I know s2 very much DID NOT have enough set up for it to be a good ending, but after rereading the Scarlet Lady AU I'm left wondering:

How could a finale Like s2's work for Miraculous? Like even if it was pushed to s3 instead. A big final with the small team of heroes and all.

(On another note I really like your analysis posts! It's interesting seeing people tackle the issues of the characters from the writing perspective mainly)

I'm glad that you like my stuff! Hopefully you enjoy this one, too!

There are a lot of ways to do a final like the season two final so long as you set it up properly which season two kind of did. The season featured three new heroes being chosen. Those heroes featuring in the final makes sense! The problem is that they were pretty worthless and could have been cut without major repercussions to the way the final plays out. That's not how you want to do a final. The new heroes should matter otherwise why waste our time introducing them?

There's also the issue that Scarlet Moth comes out of nowhere. Gabriel just randomly decides to use this cool new power because the writers said so which is pretty boring. If we're rewriting this arc, then we want to make the powerup come as a result of the new heroes being introduced to give a better feeling of cause and effect or at least back and forth power scaling.

Here's a rough outline of what the season two might look like if you didn't make any major changes to the season and also didn't want this to be the series final:

Season two opens with Hawkmoth somehow becoming more powerful. A new ability, Mayura being introduced, anything to up the threat level.

Ladybug and Chat Noir decided that they need help to deal with the increased threat level so Marinette begs Master Fu to introduce more miraculous holders. He agrees, but only on a temporary basis.

New holders are chosen early in the season and we get several episodes that show these new heroes doing their thing to really cement them as solid additions to the cast.

The advent of the new heroes freaks Hawkmoth out and he starts to plot how to make multiple Akumas at once so that he can counteract this larger team.

All of this leads to the season finale, which happens the same way it does in the show, BUT our new heroes aren’t akumatized. Instead, they realize that even they aren’t enough to allow Ladybug and Chat Noir to win. They need more help

Someone suggests that the new heroes should go out and rally the people of Paris to distract the Akumas.

The new heroes rally the people allowing our dynamic duo to face down Hawkmoth. They win, but Hawkmoth gets away.

Ladybug and Chat Noir realize that this victory only happened because their new allies were there. Master Fu realizes it, too. The season ends with him permanently giving the miraculous to the new heroes since he's the character who actually needed to learn that lesson.

Optional bonus feature: season three sees Hawkmoth able to send out multiple akumas at once as a new upgrade, but we get even more heroes to counteract this upgrade so it balances out to neither side getting an advantage. A move you really do need to make if you want to explain why a greater team is needed full time.

A series finale would require more changes, but would look pretty similar as season five already showed. In many ways, the season five final is just a rehash of the season two final because this show did not have five seasons worth of plot in it! Same goes for season three and season four. The plot beats of those finals are nearly identical.

I'll still give you a more detailed option for how a series final could work, though, since you did ask for that:

Introduce a larger team for some reason. Same list as above applies with Mayura probably being the best bet. I'd also go for something that lets Gabriel make multiple akumas, but only on a smaller scale. Five or less a fight.

Gabriel is struggling because of the larger team and decides to come up with a way to have more fighters on his side. This is the b-plot for whatever season we're in. Could be the alliance or something else.

Meanwhile, team miraculous is working to track down Gabriel's identity. They succeed in the final episodes of the season, but before they can decide what to do, Gabriel sends out his army which includes Mayura so the heroes can't just stop Gabriel and win. They have to fight on both fronts.

Team miraculous comes up with a plan to split forces with most of them protecting Paris while a small strike team goes after Gabriel. This would be a nice way to show off Alya's second-in-command skills if you go that route with her.

Cue a battle that lasts at least two episodes and gives everyone a chance to show off the skills and teamwork that the show took time to show them learning because the show should do that.

Fight ends with the heroes victorious and Paris saved! You could also let Mayura get away if you want to keep the story going in a spin off or something.

[baffledandbewildered]

“I don't really know how to end this,” Evi says, laughs, and to Betty’s ears it sounds a little broken.

Betty is glad she isn't the only one who feels that way.

She takes a breath, chokes on tears, tries again, until she can say the words in her head. “You can just walk away, Evi,” she says. “You can just walk away. I’m not going to. You made this choice. You walk away.”

Evi flinches. “Hell no.”

“You've got Pollocks here, your teammate.”

Evi stares at her silently.

“You wanna leave? Then walk away.”

In one quick movement, Evi equips their elytra and flies away. Betty is probably the only person who notices how their hands shake. And now she is left alone - it's raining, she realises. She hadn’t noticed.

Movement to her right makes her startle - she'd forgotten they had an audience, four people watching one of the worst days of her life.

Ace takes another step towards her, and Betty flinches back. She can't meet anyone's eyes - Poll, Ace, Seri - even fucking Cogmented is here gods this is -

“Not everything on this damn server has to be dramatic and deadly you could have ended it quietly -”

“I’ve thought about this for a while,” Evi says. “I didn't want to end it quietly. Would anyone have believed me if I had?”

“Did you not think I might have wanted to end it quietly? This isn’t just about you. I might have wanted it to end quietly.” She’d stopped, then, winced. “But would anyone believe it. Yeah.” And that’s the issue, isn’t it? Or one of them - Betty has a reputation for lying. ‘More than anyone’. Would anyone have believed them? Probably not.

Still. She doesn’t - it hurts, so bad, she hates that people are seeing her this way it’s wrong and she hates it -

Betty stumbles back - her inventory is a mess, spare gear and unsorted potions and she's still missing a few items but her unsteady hands manage to grab her e-chest and wrench it open, tug on her elytra and take another step away from all the watching eyes.

“I'm sorry I’m sorry I need to - go -” 

A firework sparks against her hand and she's gone, up into the rain clouds above them, away from the staring watching judging eyes behind her. 

She can't - how is she - how is she meant to -

The other watchers probably didn’t notice, but it seems it hurt Evi as much as it hurt her. She's bitterly glad of that.

She flies down from the clouds and - her luck. Her fucking luck - she finds herself gliding towards the Jestvu wedding pavilion and oh gods she doesn't want to be here, not at someone else's wedding venue when her own spouse - she lands heavily outside the portal and runs through. 

On the nether roof, there's no rain, and the heat makes her face burn - she probably is burnt, the side of her forehead throbbing - respawn doesn't heal all injuries and usually she wears anything she gets from Evi with pride but today it makes her feel sick.

BettyIsBaffled was slain by evi4 using [i'm sorry]

The parallels are haunting - both to her first death, a false betrayal that sent Betty on such a different path than she ever expected, and the death that finally revealed the ruse. 

But those deaths she'd asked for. Those deaths she'd - people think she likes dying and maybe she's a little weird about it but it's not the dying she likes it's the trust of it, putting her life and heart in another's hands - and today that trust was broken and there's a missing heart in her chest and she doesn't know what to do.

There's so many furious messages in her communicator, Ace had watched so now the whole alliance knows and Evi and Poll have left the group chat and - she begs her teammates not to seek revenge on her behalf but she isn't sure either is going to listen.

She doesn't know how to explain how much the thought of Evi4 dying for her sake hurts - she understands why he felt he had to leave, he told her before, he warned her so many times he was going to betray, it's not - she's not angry at him.

It just hurts.

She thought - things weren't great, fuck they were kinda awful really, Evi had never been fully on board with the End plan and had been kinda thrown into the alliance without a choice purely by association with Betty, but - she'd told him so many times it was his choice that was what this was all about, really, making their own choices where other people were determined to take them away from them - they talked about it so much and so often she talked to Evi more than anyone other than Sin - how had he decided to do this regardless -

It hurts.

She doesn't think she deserved this.

And that is so wrong because - she's spent so long the last few weeks hurting and hurting and knowing it was her own fault but -

She tried. Betty tried so hard to show Evi that she loves her and she knows that feeling is returned -

“I love you despite this. Despite everything. It just had to be like this,” Evi had said quietly. “I don't agree with anyone's morals - I don't agree with this allyship but I honestly stayed because I wanted to be alongside you.”

And gods didn’t that break her heart more than anything.

“I love you too,” Betty said desperately. “I thought you loved more than just me - I thought you liked being with all of us -” She stopped, shook her head, swallowed down tears. “Maybe I shouldn’t have expected that of you, maybe I shouldn’t have expected you to stay in a place like that but I offered you a way out - I know I said I didn't want to lie again but I would for you.”

And she would. She would - she’d thought, earlier, that Evi wanted that, she thought - she’d realised moments after her death that this was different, something was wrong - she’d seen the mace coming, sure, Evi wasn’t subtle, he even missed the first hit, but…

He’d told her earlier he was going to betray her today. She thought he was joking, or talking about something faking a betrayal. She'd offered to let him kill her, if he really -

It was only after she died and she was sitting in her respawn point after begging for instructions that she realised something was wrong.

evi4 whispers to you: i dont think you even know why i did that

… No. She didn’t.

‘I have a book for you!’ Evi said in general chat, as Betty was rifling through shulkers trying to cobble together a kit from the random bits and pieces of gear she had in her e-chest - she hadn’t had a full spare kit for quite a few deaths now, too busy with other stuff, too uncaring of the consequences - she was regretting that now, she didn’t even have gapples or a water bucket gods why was she so stupid. Eventually she decided what she had was good enough and pulled on her elytra to fly back to spawn.

Betty stepped through the portal. She asked for the book. Evi4 hesitated. “I just don’t think this is the time.”

“I want to read it. Evi I want an explanation.”

“You’ll get one. Later.”

“Evi I want to know I don’t know what to do -”

“There’s nothing you can do this has been doomed from the start. I've told you over and over again I’m betraying this is just how it was going to end.”

Evi never did give her that book, Betty realises. 

Does it really matter, though? Evi said enough. They made themselves pretty clear. They - gods.

“I don’t belong there.” ... “I disagree with you guys on so many things. I want to do things in a way that I have control over and honestly so many people in that alliance just. Don't particularly like me.” ... “I want us to find our peace. And I think. Neither of us can find that with the morals we have. We’re such different people.” ... “I wouldn't feel right staying like this.”

Betty feels so - stupid, stupid - she - the worst thing is she knew this she knew Evi felt this way they spoke so much and so often about everything - how had they got to a point that Evi thought this was his only option?

Betty thought they were good at talking - she thought - there’s a sign room, so far away she can’t even remember where and she wishes she could because she hates the thought of that place being found, now. They'd talked, earlier today.

issue #1: COMMUNICATION

They'd talked. Evi had built that place for Betty because they knew Betty needed somewhere to write down all her terrified confused angry thoughts -

She wants to destroy it. She wants to encase it in obsidian forever. It's not the first place she and Evi have built together - it might be the only one that remains.

But she doesn’t know where it is. So it’ll just have to remain.

She’s been flying aimlessly around the nether roof for a little while when she spots a familiar sight - gods, her luck - regardless, some sick masochistic thought has her landing outside the portal. 

There’s a stronghold near her day 1 base - months ago, she’d told Evi and Poll the truth about her and Sin. Betty can’t remember why they chose this place now, but Evi decorated it as she spoke and then many weeks later the group that would eventually become the Thousand Suns Alliance met to explain the many weeks of lore Pollock had missed.

She’d told Evi earlier today that she wanted to visit a stronghold. Wanted to see with her own eyes the wreckage of a plan that her teammates had worked so hard on, that they’d all sunk so many hours into, that Betty had relied upon when -

She'd wanted to see. This wasn’t how she was planning to do it, but… 

She steps through the portal. The room is empty - five frames remain. The flight across the nether roof had dried her tears but now they start anew.

It’s symbolic, maybe. One of the last remaining remnants of her and Evi4’s time together, gone. A hope lost, a relationship lost. 

Betty hates everything about this.

She tries to remember what it looked like - she’d made a platform out of stone. Mossy brick stairs, signs on the walls - glazed terracotta by the portal. A heart on the wall - that one is still there, and she doesn’t know if she’s grateful. But the rest - she can remember elements, she can remember it distantly but thinking of the whole thing is - maybe she doesn’t want to remember. Maybe it’s for the best that this place is gone.

She thought they were good at talking - even if they didn’t agree it didn’t matter because they talked but -

“We won't agree with each other. We don't agree with each other on a lot of things and we've lived so differently I can't understand where you're coming from.”

Obviously not.

Obviously not.

She starts the climb back to the surface - the portal is broken, and it’s far too easy to bump into people on the nether roof anyway. It’s cold, here, the stone under her hands sending stabbing pain through her fingers but eventually she’s pulling herself onto the icy surface of a frozen river. 

She’s retrieving her elytra from her e-chest when she glances at her sentimentals shulker. It’s filled to the brim with references to Evi4 - a shield she gave her while they worked on gear together at Animal Crossing, eight pieces of renamed gold, a flower from before they were even allied - Evi’s wedding vows.

Betty hesitates - then slams the shulker lid closed and backs away.

Gods. There’s a wedding ring on her finger - there’s tiny pieces of diorite and emerald inset and it’s so ugly but she loves it so much there’s so much memory there - it hurts. It hurts. She can’t bring herself to remove it, though.

“I hope we can find peace even in a time like this. Even if we’re on opposing sides or I’m not agreeing with what you do, I only want the best for you.”

“This was not what’s best for me,” Betty had choked out.

“I love you,” Evi4 said quietly.

“I love you too.” It was automatic, but… still true.

Betty wishes it was untrue. Maybe then this would be easier.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 72

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Yall today was such a nice day weather wise. I am so glad the temperature is up and we are finally at the end of winter. The way my body has been soaking up the sun :'3

Tonight I have hot water for hydration and just to keep warm. I went with this little shroomy mug for vibes though.

Let's get into chapter 72!!!

Bro blamed his ghost kissed lips on the pickle jar with the spirit LOL p358

LOOOOOOL The whole town is now panicking because they ate pickles from him and they're scared they have ghost lips too. oh no ahaha p358

omg this is so chaotic! 1. blinding the 3rd eye 2. meatball threats 3. Hua cheng maybe (definitely) bluffing. pp359-360

honestly, kind of annoying that Xie Lian can't fight any of these monks. Like I totally get the the purpose of the rule, but it doesn't account for these situations. p361

You see, this was the exact situation I thought would happen if Xie Lian let Ling Wen near the immortal brocade one more time. (okay not this exact situation! But that she would wreck some things and make a grand escape). p363

Quan Yizhen & Xie Lian fighting the brocade immortal: [Star eyes + maybe a little drool] beautiful. pp363-364

oh my god xie lian 🔥🔥 "I am god." p366 (I would pay good money for a Hua Cheng pov during this speech LOL)

The weaponization of meatballs. PLS. I'm WHEEZING. p366

What the fuck was this chapter LOL

What a way to finish off this book but omg. I did not expect the flinging of meatballs, the end of the puqi shrine, and ling wen fleeing with her martial boyfriend who also happens to be a rice sack.

What's even happening lol

[11queensupreme11]

ASJDJDHDDHD I TOTALLY FUCKING FORGOT APOLLOOO I'm sorry king 💔 I didn't mean to throw shade but the shade kinda eclipsed ur whole existence I did not remember you existed 😔💔 the favouritism is so real with me. At least Percy loves you 💞 Not me tho I would drawn the line at the nymph harem and your habit of putting humans through horrors via doomed dick. Ty for having him Percy, now nobody else has to. Our Queen making sacrifices for us every day..

ALSO YES!! THE BEELCY KIDS ASK WAS ALSO ME!!! I forgor my new designation bc I was so sleep deprived 😭😭 but I'm so glad you recognised me!!

(ALSO added comedy for the dimension hopping demon spawn, but I feel like even if she wouldn't let it slip intentionally bc she doesn't want to minimise their inter-dimensionnal war crimes and shit, depending on the timing some of the kids would be having what amounts to a toddlers temper tantrum to her because of how fast the gods age. So she just distracted lying drops the bomb that "anyway I'm really sorry but he's only five so I'm hoping he'll maybe grow out of it with lots of special attention and guidance" and the universe inhabitants are just like??? THAT EVIL MF IS FIVE?? MY UNIVERSE IS HANGING ONTO A THREAD BC A TECHNICAL TODDLER BE BEEFING WITH US??? That or they're looking at her like she's crazy like 'lady.. this mf is NOT five do you see the DEVIOUS way he's looking at me when you turn your back...'

Also all I can say is RIP if any of them end up on Penacony. One of the kids would end up either murdering or making a pet out of that Death entity or whatever that shish kebab'd Firefly and Sunday would be having an aneurism because they're shattering his influence and ruining all his plans. Unless he gets lucky and its Cu's daughters (or maybe the Apollo kids depending on how well-behaved and non myrdery they are) that end up there, they'd probably be the most well-behaved and have a blast!!! Until their daddy shows up and then the planet is under threat for sure, they better hope he's too focused on his daughters to think about the implications of a planet that encourages them to experience all their dreams 😭 especially if his brain cells start putting in work and he figures. Dreams coming true. Hmm I wonder if my hopeless romantic daughters might've been imagining 👹 B O Y S 👹

Circumstances would go so differently depending on which kids end up where... God forbid this is all happening synonymously.. One of the Beelcy kids is going around swallowing plants because they were hungry and they looked like good snacks or smthn (and Beel is too distracted flexing on Ruan Mei or smthn like pshh you call THAT a SWARM? Watch this im gonna end your whole career and many species) and Cu's daughters are innocently frolicking somewhere and too innocent to consider that they're putting whatever planet they're on in danger just by being there even if they're being the goodest of girls 😔 bc daddy's a 👹 menace 👹 (If they do end up on Pencacony they'd probably be besties with Robin if she's still around there and not on tour or smthn. Sunday better keep his distance tho lest they get.. too attached... and start thinking 'wow!! A bestie AND a perfect Disney prince for a boyfriend HUSBAND!! This is great 🥰' Daddy would NOT approve)

💫

(from 💫 anon)

that entire first paragraph 😭😭😭 "Ty for having him Percy, now nobody else has to" DAMN YOU'RE KILLING HIM WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU LMAO 😭😭😭 our poor boy (i'm just kidding, flame him harder 👹)

also you're right percy WOULD just casually drop the bomb that the being(s) destroying their universe is just a wittle baby five year old

percy: pls help me find my babies 🥺

and then the babies in question are these psychos:

💀💀💀 she'd be 1000% serious too, cuz those literally ARE just babies to her ahshadfv hdvb 😭

AND CÚ CHULAINN'S DAUGHTERS IN PENACONY ASHFGHWGV

percy probably finds them all there first and they excitedly tell her all about the super cool dreamscape and she's like "oh what the heck, sure. i'll try it out, i can use a vacation!" so she joins them into the dreamscape while her husband's out losing his shit looking for them 😭😭😭😭

anyway, you know how you gotta fall asleep in the dream pool thingy to enter the dreamscape properly?????

imagine poor cú chulainn getting into the reverie hotel and finding his daughters and wife all knocked out in different rooms inside this weird pool thingy not waking up and he just fucking LOSES IT. HIS BABIES ARE UNCONSCIOUS HIS WIFE IS UNCONSCIOUS WTF IS HAPPENING. WHO DID THIS TO HIS FAMILY. CEARBHALL'S ASS IS GROUNDED

when in actuality, they're all having the time of their lives in the golden hour ashfahfv 😭😭😭😭😭

and then he eventually learns about what's going on and then loses it again BECAUSE WHAT IF THEY'RE TALKING TO 👹BOYS👹?! WHAT IF OTHER 👹MEN👹 ARE DROOLING OVER HIS WIFE???? WHERE'S THAT IDIOT SON OF HIS, HE SHOULD'VE STOPPED THIS 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

also, i love the differences between the percy babies 😭😭😭😭

the sécy daughters in the hsr verse (except maybe luisne tbh 💀):

meanwhile some of the other percy babies 💀:

[tinylongwing]

@leucrotta Thanks for spotting the error - descriptions for 5 and 7 were of the same photo, somehow, with different text. I don't know how I did that. Tired lmao. Fixed now.

BUT I am so glad you want to see more photos of the countryside! That hike was so special. These won't really capture it as well as I saw it but should hopefully give you a glimpse! It was a bit hazy unfortunately - there was a yellow dust event coinciding with my hiking day (sand blowing over from China due to high atmospheric stuff). All of the below are along the Yamanobe-no-michi trail.

Roadside honor system fruit/veg stand, Tenri. This one is empty but several had fresh fruit or vegetables for way better prices than you'd see in a grocery store, plus the stand that I bought from (which was attended by a lady who ran out of her house to greet me as soon as she saw me by her stand, she wanted to know which country I had come from, it was cute) with a bunch of homemade pickles and daifuku. I was in desperate need of those daifuku man, they were huge, so so good.

Blooming mustard field, Tenri. See what I mean about the haze? Pretty field though.

Somewhere south of Tenri now, looking up the steep trail cobbles at a house next to a bamboo stand.

Village somewhere in Otogicho. Lots and lots of old traditional homes out here in these small villages.

Moated village near Kayoucho. Several of these ancient villages had moats - for protection, as well as for a village water source, and sometimes for growing water-loving crops.

Nenbutsudera cemetery, same place as the buddha with lotus leaf headstones above, but these are more modern grave markers. Seriously I love that the road goes right through this place, it was amazing to explore.

Tomb of Emperor Sujin (Died ~30 BC). This is the first ruler of Japan who we actually have a real name and date for, rather than someone who is mostly mythological. What a tomb, man. There's no way photos can capture the scale of these kofun mounds.

Top of the tomb - yeah there's a whole lake in there, and then more walls, and a whole forest.

The trail as it passes through a small village somewhere north of Miwa. I just love these little narrow streets.

Fallow field north of Miwa with some really impressive older homes behind it.

More Jizo statues - I looked these up after the first post. Jizo was a bodhisattva (person who attained enlightenment but chose not to ascend to nirvana so as to help people on earth) who is now sort of the patron figure of unborn children, children who died very young, as well as travelers - the latter of which is why so many of these pop up along trailsides. The stacked stones are because evidently the unborn children can't achieve enlightenment as they are stuck in limbo, so they instead build stone towers to try and reach nirvana, and Jizo guards them while they do this - and locals will stack stones in an attempt to help. Also I guess the red bibs are protecting Jizo while he protects the children. I'm fascinated.

Omiwa Jinja! The destination, for me (some people continue on past this but man I was tired). This is quite possibly the oldest remaining shrine in Japan, from an era where Shintoism literally worshiped things like mountains. The shrine, on the low slopes of Mt. Miwa, is here for worship of that mountain as a god. It's still very popular today despite being in the middle of absolutely nowhere - lots and lots of locals were there to visit while I passed through. Also it's enormous. Such a great place to end the hike.

Four days ago I left Rota in the hands of my very capable banding technicians, and now am on a much needed vacation in Japan.

I know I owe bird pics, but first here are some Japan photos for those who have been wondering why I've gone dead silent during the new LH single release haha (I'm enjoying it, I'm just on a very different time zone!)

I have an absolutely unreasonable number of photos I could share, but here are several highlights of the first half of my trip:

Southwest tower of Nijo Castle, Kyoto

Todai-ji, Nara

SO MANY DEER, Nara Park, Nara

Isonokami Jingu shrine - one of the oldest shrines in Japan, built around the 2nd or 3rd century AD if not older. The chickens here are believed to be messengers of the gods

Uchiyama Eikyuji ancient temple ruins (1114 AD), Tenri, on the Yamanobe-no-michi (oldest road in Japan, dating back to at least the 700s AD, which connects villages and ancient historical sites, mountains and farmland around the Nara basin)

Winter orchard, Tenri, on the Yamanobe-no-michi. Evidently these are persimmon trees planted on the tomb of an emperor from so long ago that the date of construction has been forgotten (but other similar tombs around here are from the 200-300s)

Nenbutsudera Temple cemetery, Yamanobe-no-michi. The lotus petals are ancient headstones from people whose names are long forgotten.

Just a really cute collection of Buddhist trailside figurines on the Yamanobe-no-michi. Figures like this can be found all over the country, tucked away on trails, inforests, and at the edges of neighborhoods.

Fushimi Inari and its famous thousands of torii gates, Kyoto

Kiyomizu-dera, Kyoto. Overwhelming number of people here so I had to take a photo just to show how nuts it was. Great temple, not so great crowds. I feel bad for the temple attendants. A monk I briefly spoke to had more patience and so much more kindness than some of these unruly crowds deserve.

Ryozen Kannon temple, Kyoto. This is a modern temple built to honor the unknown soldiers who died in WWII. Really gorgeous and moving place.

Goshuin stamp and yatagarasu figurine from Kumano Nyakuoji, Kyoto. Shinto shrine dedicated to the three-legged raven god? Hell yes. I've been collecting goshuin as I go and this is for sure one of my favorites (though I have many favorites).

Kinkaku-ji, Kyoto. I read Mishima's Temple of the Golden Pavilion in high school and have wanted to see it in person ever since, but I didn't think I was going to have time this trip (it's kind of in a weird out of the way place). Managed to find time anyway. 10/10 zero regrets I cried about a building covered in fucking gold leaf. It's so over the top, yes, but shockingly beautiful in person.

I'll possibly do another photo dump later if you guys want to see more but tl;dr there are some tourist hotspots that are ABSOLUTELY worth it (Fushimi Inari, Nara park, Kinkaku-ji) but the most memorable by far was my hike through miles and miles of countryside. If any of you are heading to Japan in the future and are up for a long walk through some of the nation's richest history, kindest people, and most gorgeous landscapes, the Yamanobe-no-michi is worth every single second of the journey.

[lizzybeeee]

THE ENTIRE DRAGON AGE AMA IS A DUMPSTER FIRE

They avoided all the high-rated questions with genuine criticism (not blind hate!) and went for questions that were safer and allowed them more leeway. After that awful IGN article and that treatment of Davrin...God, just put it down. I have no faith that BioWare will be able to continue Dragon Age or Mass Effect with the respect it deserves.

Edit - They had an opportunity for genuine discussion with fans who were concerned/unhappy with the way Veilguard was -> people unhappy with the story, the marketing, the lack of 'RP' options in an RPG, etc... Instead they just doubled-down even more, avoiding those critical questions, with no real acknowledgement that fans have very reasonable problems with this game.

Some Highlights & My Initial Ramblings Below:

The Executors

"They attempt to manipulate events in the most subtle way they can manage."

So, very clear that they're not simply observers of what is happening in Thedas: they're manipulators...

"Magical Illuminati Confirmed! Lizard People Did 9:30 Dragon!!!!"

All that complexity of character -> his hatred of Orlais, his experience as a general, his relationship with Cailain, and the influence of Howe...all diminished. Any influence from a shadow cabal is too much influence - all the humanity of Loghain's choices/consequences...God, what a waste.

Not to mention what this does to other events/characters in the series -> they imply they've been intervening as far back as the magisters breaking into the golden city. I do not find this compelling! At all!

2. Solas and the Executors

Oh my god, he sounds like such a fucking Mary-Sue I'm so sick of Solas at this point -> "Actually, I know more about the Executors than anyone alive - not even the rest of the Gods know as much as me."

("I'm also, like, an Ancient Elven God, I'm responsible for the Blight and the Veil, and I kind of locked the Gods away cause they were evil - but, like, I'm really sad about it. Also the Herald of Andraste thinks I'm cute <3")

<- Previous comments: massive oversimplification, obviously

But I miss the days when not everything was about Solas. It removes so much interest and wonder in this world when the fucking egg is behind it all. I loved him as a character in DAI and now I just feel this bone deep tiredness when I see his stupid face.

Don't you dare threaten to bring Gareth David-Lloyd back -> keep him away from this mess!

3. The Fate of the Rest of the Evanuris

Yay. I'm so looking forwards to "The Return of the Elves: Electric Boogaloo 2" - it was done so well the first time!

"It was the elves all along!"

The only character with any potential to be interesting is Andruil*, but how they handled all this lore was done so shallowly and so poorly that I find it hard to give a damn anymore. Not to mention that the game literally mentions Ghilan'nain mourning Andruil - so is this a retcon/redirection/or have you confirmed that one of the most interesting members of the Evanuris' is dead?

*interesting in that she's established in lore to potentially have a tonne of really cool things attached to her (the void armour, the great weapon she has etc...). The rest of the evanuris are nowhere near as well established as she is.

4. Southern Thedas, Sociopolitical Issues, and Future Games

NOW YOU WANT TO INCORPORATE GEO-POLITCAL EXPLORATION?? You avoided any meaningful discussion like the plague in DATV but now you're acknowledging it?? OkaY. okAy.

They couldn't even give us the long-term ramifications of the mage/templar war how the hell am I supposed to believe that they will be able to pull off 'elven gods are real' etc...? For a game series that totes : your choices matter -> they have not proven that they have been able to show that in a meaningful way. They literally cleaned the slate with this game to avoid doing that.

So, what, does that mean that the Veil is never going to come down now? Or are you going to have the entirety of Thedas build themselves up again just to have the Veil fall and send things into chaos once more?

What a fatalistic, miserable outcome for Thedas -> why the fuck would anyone bother to live in Thedas if you're going to keep throwing meteorites at them? By all means, change/conflict has to happen for the series to move forwards...but this is just so miserable at this point.

(The Elder Scrolls, at least, gives people room to breathe between crisis' or sets them up in different areas of the world! Bethesda treats past installments/your decisions with greater respect than DATV does.)

Even, then, if the Veil remains up, that means that the spirits are just trapped in the Fade being miserable for the rest of existence. The entire series has been humanizing spirits, from Justice to Cole, and now they're just throwing in the towel? I guess they can stay in the fade now! Problem solved!

What do you mean the Evanuris are not a threat anymore? IN A PREVIOUS QUESTION YOU LITERALLY SAID SOME ARE STILL POTENTIALLY KICKING AROUND THE BLACK CITY?

Weakened, sure, but Solas was 'weak' in DAI. You're giving yourself an out if you decide to go back to the elves again. Please do, I'd love more content on how the elves alone fuck everything up!

5. More Southern Thedas, the Chantry, and Tevinter

Thanks for the confirmation that things in the South are so fucked up that they have to work alongside the 'Slave Capital' of the known world to rebuild!

Slavery was one of the biggest things that caused a rift between the north/south chantry system -> one of the reasons why there were exalted marches -> a uniting belief in the south is that slavery is fucked. They didn't address slavery in DATV - what hopes are there that they will do so effectively in a future game?

Don't tell me that Dorian fixes everything off screen either -> either he solves slavery off-screen or the south is being forced to work the slaver-capitol because their land is nuked and they have no ground to stand on.

I'm so thrilled.

6. Solas and the Idol / The Blight

I will never get over Solas fucking curing the Blight off-screen and no one asking questions/giving a shit. Hello?? The Hero of Ferelden would like a word with you???

So the Blight is calcified in Minrathous, at least, but everywhere further away is still fucked! Once more, the South is doomed to suffer from the long-term effects that regular blights have -> not to mention the red lyrium (which still exists according to the AMA) across the south.

I don't care; it's lame. It's a lame way to conclude the blight and I hate it. This game did not earn 'cure the blight from thedas' at all. You could have had us learn how to soothe a titan and see how that can diminish the blight but you did it this way.

Another 'magical ritual' because Solas has such a good track record with them lmao.

7. The Agents of Fen'Harel / The War with the Qun / The Crows

Turned him against the idea of being a leader???!!

Fen'harel's Call to the Elven People After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned. This is from the Trespasser Epilogue, Epler!

Your concept art for Joplin literally had him as a leader of a faction of elves. Just be honest that it's a retcon and you changed course - don't try to save face with this reasoning.

About the Antaam: "We needed some big mindless bad guys to fight and so we did this because we didn't want to address the Qunari War/Invasion we set up in Trespasser".

You had to canonize Sten as being alive and Arishok in order for this reasoning to work -> you didn't even come up with an alternative Arishok to take Sten's place.

Yeah, the exchange that set up the Crows we see in the game as "idealists" did not make the game. I can confirm that!

I'm sorry, "Caterina kept Illario in check?" as in, 'kept him an idealist and not the usual Crow'? The woman that beat him with a cane and starved him and his cousin to train them as Crows. Fuck off.

lmao -> tell me you're coming up with this on the spot without telling me that you're coming up with this on the spot.

8. World State Discrepancies - Isabela

Outright ignores the very real criticism about the marketing from this game and World States.

"there are absolutely places where we unintentionally suggested there was a hard canon (...that Isabela is always assumed to have joined Hawke's party.)"

Unintentional?

Excuse me, you have her talk about Merrill and the Kirkwall Crew as family - that was not unintentional in the slightest. Not to mention Sten, Blackwall, Sera, and Cole are canonized as being part of your world state no matter what.

You had a story you wanted to tell - one that only fit a few world states - and you went ahead with it and disregarded those choices. Don't try and lie about this all being a big misunderstanding.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edit - They could have taken the opportunity to address the very reasonable criticisms that people had with this game but they cherry-picked questions and avoided/minimized anything remotely critical.

They could have provided us some insight into the game development time but each time they approached the topic they settled for "we're happy with what we delivered and it was well optimized."

They had an opportunity to acknowledge that people were bothered by the handling of the lore/stories (to potentially mention they could course-correct/ rethink their plans) but instead they doubled down on everything that they did and even 'justified' some decisions. They doubled down on the Executors, Solas's changing motivations, the destruction of Southern Thedas, and the elves/Solas being at the heart of everything etc...

This AMA basically confirmed that the only reason they did what they did to the south was for a reset -> It's not a compelling or fulfilling narrative to have everything we've done reset back to ground zero off-screen. BioWare games differentiate themselves from other RPG's by their import system from previous games - it was compelling and exciting! With DATV they set the expectation that BioWare can outright throw out entire games worth of choices/build up, not solely retcon them.

Justifying your choice to water down the lore/world of your story by saying you'll address it in the 'next game' does not instill me with confidence, BioWare! It doesn't explain that lack of it in this game either!

They avoided every question that, rightfully so, pointed out the misleading comments made by devs in the pre-order period of the game:

the fact that there were only 3 imported choices from previous games was leaked by a reviewer -> BioWare was vague from the start about choices

that this game was the most 'romantic' in the series

that world states/ headcanons wouldn't be disrespected

that there are 'lore' reasons for bad darkspawn design

that there are lasting, impactful choices/consequences to be made in this game

that the lore/world was not watered or toned down

that companions are deep and you can disagree with them etc...

BioWare's behavior towards their customers in the lead up period to this games release was downright scummy. I absolutely felt misled after playing the game for myself and recalling what I read in interviews put out. While EA is undoubtedly poison, you can't hold them solely accountable for this.

I feel for the individual developers who worked on this in what was undoubtedly a toxic environment from EA - but I feel that it's pretty clear that BioWare itself has a lot of problems within and in their leadership/executives. Working for EA does not give them an excuse to mislead their customers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I already had a very grim outlook on the franchise from the end of DATV but this literally look my interest out the back and sent it to God. What a disaster.

[flickering-nightfall]

[galactaknightyaoi]

☀️ IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! 🌙

This is my gift to myself :) I drew my favorite guys ever.

For a while I've been itching to draw the wedding outfits from this post again. I made them up on the fly as I was drawing, but I actually really like how they ended up turning out. They're super cute!! (though, yet again, you can't see almost any part of Dedede's outfit... 💔)

But then I couldn't get it out of my head to make a companion piece for it, with their mirror versions. And so. I did. What they have going on is a little bit messy, though...

Marriage or divorce!! Take your pick.