#they are Capable of working together well

[leliwardens]

#i don't want to derail this since this is a veey good post#but in the tags I would like to speculate -#i think that's because these people weren't written to be companions at all#it feels like they were written to be the sylvanus windrunner/grom stormscream of a dragon age MMO#it feels like a product of the fractious nature of veilguard's development cycle#in fact even the art style - and the decision to make unique design aesthetics for each faction - feels like an MMO holdover#it's not clear to me that they ever intended to give you the origins-style introduction quest despite the diversity of backgrounds#it does feel like a cynical mishmash of the 'greatest hits' of dragon age#the origins of the first game and their unique interactions#the wisecracking hawke of the second game#and the lighthouse feels to me most like skyhold w/ it's exploration/development and the companions all getting their own space#throw it all in the food processor and make a new game#except that in isolation none of these things work that well#origins doesn't work w/out setting the narrative stakes for your character before the darkspawn are even introduced#hawke doesn't work unless you are forced to play hawke - sure there's a dialogue wheel and all#but hawke is a fixture od DA2 and you cannot sub in the HoF or Inky in and expect the game to hold up#skyhold and halamshiral work because this is the senate/jedi council from the prequels refusing to help padme -#it's an inherently political game in a way that neither of the previous titles set out to be#you can't just copy what worked previously sans the context that made it great and expect to come up with a masterpiece#and to be clear - I am not anti-homage in any context#if a jazz musician quotes the mario-kart theme they make the music richer by giving a moment love for an entirely different medium#but these things cannot be the framework of new art lest they become parody#and I am sorry to those who have enjoyed the game - I sincerely hope you continue to#but please don't tell me that I am hateful or evil for not finding this a flattering addition to a franchise I love#datv critical (tags via @pip-n-flinx)

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[octuscle]

Coworkers and Gym Bros

Everyone here thinks I'm an intern. Yes, I did my Master's at the age of 23. But I also look much younger than I am. Well, as I said, they either think I'm an intern. Or they think I'm the post boy.

On the other hand, Gregory. Or Greg, as everyone calls him. Dumb as a loaf of bread, but built like a brick wall. A booming laugh. A dazzling smile. And an ass… No one can look at it without producing a wet spot in their pants. What I wouldn't give to be a bit more like Greg. We had Morning Board. As Product Owner, I ran it. No one takes me seriously. I pass the elevator. Greg is standing in front of the door. It looks like he hasn't even pressed the button yet. I say yes, dumb as a post. I push for him and pretend I want to take the elevator too. What a chance to be close to this Hercules.

The elevator arrives and is empty. Jackpot. With a dry throat, I ask Greg where he wants to go. “Ground floor,” he grunts. “What a coincidence, me too,” I reply. Shit, I actually have a conference call coming up.

Despite the air conditioning, it smells like Greg in the elevator. It smells of Old Spice, of fresh male sweat and of pure masculinity. Greg is playing with his cell phone. He growls something along the lines of “Shit, no reception”. Then there's a rumble. And the elevator stops. Jackpot? Or hell? Shit, more like jackpot when I feel the hard-on in my pants. It gets hot and stuffy. Very quickly. And Greg is standing next to me, stoically calm, playing with his cell phone. Suddenly, out of the blue, he asks who I actually am. “Eugene, Product Owner in IT Strategy, we're in the Customer Relationship Intensification team together” ”Ah yes, I knew I knew you. This IT stuff isn't really my thing. I'm someone who prefers to work directly on the customer front. Shit, I'm out of battery!” He loosens his tie knot and unbuttons the second button on his shirt. I'm sweating like a pig. Greg starts doing squats. The elevator shakes. I turn pale. “When I'm bored, I have to move.” Greg licks his tie and undoes another button. I'm surprised his pants aren't cracking at the thighs and ass. “So, are you lifting iron too, little brother?” I just shake my head. I'd rather he stopped doing squats. “But you should!” Greg takes off his shirt and tenses his biceps. “Here, feel it!” I squeeze the rock-hard muscle. And then I don't know what's come over me. I kiss the bicep, I lick it. I run my tongue into his armpit. Greg groans. I can't help but caress his sweaty abs with my hands. My tongue can't get enough of the salty taste of his skin. My cock presses painfully against his pants. I press my crotch against his. And I can feel he's hard too.

Almost tenderly, which I wouldn't have believed him capable of, Greg unbuttons my shirt and takes it off with the tie. He opens my pants and pulls them down. “I need a hole to fill so badly right now,” he says. “And believe me, it'll do you good!” I lean against the stainless steel elevator wall, bare-chested and with my pants down. Greg spits into his hands and rubs his cock. He pulls my buttocks apart. I feel his glans against my anus. And shortly afterwards he's deep inside me. Dude, the elevator is shaking. Only now does the alarm go off. A voice asks if there's anyone in the elevator and if we're okay. Thank God no one presses the phone button. But my screams will probably still be heard throughout the building. Damn, I always thought bodybuilders were robbed of their masculinity by abusing steroids and stuff. Bullshit. I mean, Greg and I do inject from time to time. But basically nothing beats hard training and tons of protein.

I don't even realize what's going on in my head. The memories of my computer science degree are fading. I studied marketing in Minnesota. With a football scholarship. Then the classics: cruciate ligament rupture, rehab, gym, more gym, even more gym. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck! Greg cums and I can feel his cum all the way to my stomach! Dude, his balls must have been filled to the brim. I spit my load against the elevator wall. Good thing we came from the gym. We grab our towels and wipe up the mess, panting. Greg presses the phone button. “Sorry, we must have passed out in here from lack of oxygen. We're two big boys, we use a lot of it!” I laugh boomingly. And am told that help is on the way. Suddenly the air conditioning comes on again. And the elevator starts moving again.

"Yo, two Americanos with protein powder, bro?" The coffee shop dude knows the deal. "Extra large, man," I throw in. Greg and I are basically legends here, like epic pups. Not too many peeps need XXXXL shirts that are snug around the guns. But whatever, we crush it in construction gear sales. Our clients sometimes got biceps bigger than ours—no joke. If you’re a little guy, you just vanish in your cubicle, like a techie or something. But who wants that, right?"

Inspiration by @possessionofdudes

Pics by @ki-kink

[masochist-marmot]

Spoilers for HSR 3.0

Words cannot express how insanely much I love the relationship between Mydei and Phainon. It honestly feels like Hoyo went into their little character laboratory and created a dynamic specifically targeted at me. Okay so let's review:

Rivalry: Has to be mentioned since I live for rival dynamics (as my blog history will testify). There's just nothing better than two characters challenging each other with the hopes of surpassing the other. And the fact that they seem to be more or less equally matched in power. They'd probably consider sparring a valid form of foreplay.

Banter: The way these two flirt with talk to one another gives me life. Every interaction is perfect, with all the teasing and jabbing and general playfulness. And the best part is that it's reciprocal.

Genuine affection: Despite the way they talk, they very clearly care for each other and aren't afraid to show it in their own way. This is actually something that can often be lacking in rival dynamics, where the parties are by definition somehow opposed to one another. But these two navigate it beautifully. They may say they're both friends and enemies, but I think it's understood that they are friends who occasionally roleplay as enemies. (Until we get a moment where Phainon turns on us and Mydei has to beat him back to his senses. Not a prediction, but a girl can dream.)

Mutual trust: They obviously respect each other's capabilities and are willing to rely on one another, but it's not codependent. They work well together and they work well apart, and they trust that the other will manage. It feels really balanced too, since both parties clearly care about the wellbeing of the other.

Mutual understanding: They seem to have a deep understanding of how the other is feeling, even though they show it through convoluted means (like starting a competition to give the other the space they need but won't ask).

I just can't get over how perfect it is. Mydei waiting for you and Phainon during the competition to make sure you find your way through his hometown. Mydei being ready to concede his right for the final blow on Nikador as a result of the competition, but Phainon insisting on having a fair battle for it (because the whole competition was a pretense anyway). Phainon pointing out that Mydei would be better suited to carry the coreflame of strife even though it's been his life mission. (And on a sidenote, Mydei demonstrating silent wisdom by refusing the flame in the first place because he doesn't want to repeat past mistakes? King behaviour. I love him so much.) Phainon telling Mydei to skip his ritual to nurture his wounds, but then clearly being a little sad that Mydei is not there. And then Mydei showing up anyway because of course he was going to.

I probably missed half of what I wanted to say but god I just want more of these two, preferably injected straight into my veins.

[marvel-verse]

I beg you please don't have an uncomplicated take on China just because we're getting some fun cultural exchange.

I love that Americans and Chinese people are coming together and having these conversations, it's so fucking important, but I don't think it's right to say "the Chinese don't have to pay so much to go to college so US propaganda is all wrong". Because yes it is propaganda, but you have to look critically at both countries. There is no such thing as a 'good' government. If there was, it wouldn't be the Chinese or US governments.

Did you know that right now the government of China is committing an ethnic genocide and has been for years? In the Xinjiang province, Uyghur people and other mostly-Muslim ethnic groups have been forced into what the Chinese government has called "re-education camps".

In 2022, it was believed that more than one million people had been imprisoned at these camps (source). Cotton plantations and factories also appeared within the camps. Here is one organization dedicated to the ending of forced labor in the region that you can read up on.

"Several countries, including the US, UK, Canada and the Netherlands, have accused China of committing genocide - defined by international convention as the "intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group". The declarations follow reports that, as well as interning Uyghurs in camps, China has been forcibly mass sterilising Uyghur women to suppress the population, separating children from their families, and attempting to break the cultural traditions of the group. The US Secretary of State, Antony Blinken, has said China is committing "genocide and crimes against humanity". The UK parliament declared in April 2021 that China was committing a genocide in Xinjiang. A UN human rights committee in 2018 said it had credible reports that China was holding up to a million people in "counter-extremism centres" in Xinjiang. The Australian Strategic Policy Institute found evidence in 2020 of more than 380 of these "re-education camps" in Xinjiang, an increase of 40% on previous estimates." (source)

Here is an interview the Human Rights Foundation did with former inhabitants of the camp on their conditions. It's dark, so take care of yourself and don't read if you're not in the right space for it.

And again - don't necessarily take what countries say at face value because there is always political motivation, but it's worth emphasizing that China admitted to placing these ethnic minorities in "re-education camps".

As for censorship, we know that the Chinese government censors media -- it's become a big topic of interest in CDrama and AsianBL communities. The CCP (Chinese Communist Party) is very socially conservative. You can't have nudity in Chinese shows, no depictions of gay relationships or drug use, and the morals displayed in the show have to be reflective of CCP values.

I haven't been able to find documentation of any actual "censorship" codes on content, but it seems to be a case of if you try something risky, you risk getting your show cancelled:

Every other reason for censorship is political and largely depends on the mood of the government or is a response to stuff that's currently happening in China that they deem problematic and capable of disturbing the peace or anything that isn't promoting the official government narrative. Nobody knows exactly what would set the government off so they play it extremely safe by producing "safe" content because experimentation could see your hard work go down the drain. (source)

Famously, the Heaven Official's Blessing live action adaptation was cancelled after filming due to restrictions on depictions of same-sex couples. I think it's still in censorship hell and people are on the fence for whether it will ever be released.

The show Spirealm also has a very interesting censorship history, but you can read about that on your own time.

And it's hard to get information on this because of Chinese press regulation, language barrier, prevalence of anti-China propaganda, etc but it's worth exploring.

TLDR do not look uncritically at another country because it is fun. These are important issues. Sweeping them under a rug is disrespectful to these peoples' lived experience.

being on this app is so surreal. americans are usually the ones that learn about other places and people everywhere else already know about america because we're everywhere online. we've never been on the opposite side where other people are learning about us -- and they are horrified about our "normal"

the country america spent our whole lives trying to convince us is miserable and suffering under an oppressive government that starves everyone and controls their media? that's just projection. turns out besides like... housing prices and few available jobs, china is doing pretty great. they originally believed we were all living it up "the american dream" way and now they're all thankful they were born in china and have no idea how any of us are even alive

[radioactive-zafiro60]

Teenage Damian finally being more involved in JL matters thanks to his leadership on the Titans which eventually leads him to work with his father and siblings.

Things can get a little awkward from time to time because even if Damian is now almost as tall as Dick and he has demonstrated multiple times he's capable of defeating most of the other heroes he's STILL the little baby to his family eyes.

So picture a situation in where Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin (Damian) plus some members of the JL, the Titans and Jung Justice are all cooperating for some major menace, which apart from other things, means family reunion.

Nightwing *checking some security cameras they put on the main suspect of the villan of the week room*: Well if he does anything suspicious we can confirm all this mess is his fault

Red Robin: It will be great if we can confirm it before he destroys the world

Wonder Woman (looking at the screen where their main suspect appears to bring a girl to his room to something more that chatting): Well if he's actually about to destroy the world he certainly has enough time for THAT

*moanings start coming out of the computer and even when most of the heroes start laughing Nightwing seems scandalized*

Nightwing *reaching from the other side of the table to try covering Damian's eyes*: YOU CANT WATCH THIS DAMI!!! YOU ARE JUST A BABY!!!

Red Robin (not actually caring but always on favor of annoying Damian): This is not an appropriate look for a ten year old!!!!

Damian|Robin (Very clearly not ten): Get off me!!! And stop being so dramatic

Superman (participating mostly to catch Batman's attention): Well you are the kid in here we have to protect your innocence

Batman is trying to ignore the hole scene but a soft smile escapes from his mouth while he sees his kids fooling around just like before

Robin|Damian (still trying to get Nightwing off him): Stop acting like I'm a baby! There are other teenage heroes on this same room!!

Batman: Well yea but their families aren't here

John|Superboy (trying to help Damian): Im here

Damian finally getting away from his brothers and suddenly feeling sassy enough to speak more than he should.

Robin|Damian: Funny that you still assume I'm a virgin...

Damian leaves almost immediately leaving a room full of shocked heroes behind him.

All: ...

Nightwing (with the most concerned grin in his face): ... WHAT

Red Robin laughing his brains out: Oh god!!! You have such a traumatized face!!!

Nightwing, still not processing what just happened and having some type of panic atack: THATS MY BABY BROTHER WTF!!! 😭😭😭

Batman bluescreened from the beginning and Superman is trying to bring him back (he's also trying not to laugh)

Meanwhile, John|Superboy is on the back trying to piece everything together because WHY DAMIAN DIDN'T TELL HIM ANYTHING??!! There supposed to be like best friends, Why would he lie about something like that?? Does he even had a girlfriend he didn't know about??!! and NO HE'S NOT JEALOUS WHY ARE YOU ASKING??!!!

Red Robin, still trying to stop his laugh: Don't be so dramatic Wing... He's almost 16, how old where you when... you know?

Nightwing, in a super dramatic voice: IM NOT ANSWERING THAT IN FRONT OF MY DAD!!!!

Batman, who has started to came back to reality is looking at his boys with the most, Bruciest grin in his face, completely forgetting he's THE BATMAN

Anyways... Damian realizes what he confessed teen minutes later and decides to avoid every single member of his family for the rest of the month

[unhingedpolycule]

Haiii ! Love what you do and had two questions :

Do you think any of them would cry at the others burial (if they even want that ? Cremation ?)

And do you think one of them would wear glasses once they age a bit more ?

Thank you 🩵

Haiiiii! First of all, thank you for your ask! It made me think and it was a really cool concept to work with! You can find the (long) answer under the cut!

If the body is recovered from the warzone where they died, they would have a small service I think. Not because the other would particularly want or need it, but because the team would more or less insist and it is simply the social convention. It doesn’t really bother them either. That being said… they would not cry. Nikto would probably get pretty gruff, outwardly pretending that their relationship was not as deep as it actually was, so he isn’t too sad. Mostly because people keep giving him condolences. He does not like it, handling Sebastian‘s death is hard enough on its own. Krueger would just get… like very silent in my mind. Not directly pretending that it doesn’t bother him, but he would let his mask slip a bit. Instead of being detached on purpose, he just sits and reminiscence about Nikto and what he is missing right now. His voice, having someone to concentrate on and to care for as to make his life less eventless. He was Nikto’s caretaker and partner for years and he was used to being joint at the hip, always having an interesting and stimulating person around.

Both feel the urge to be alone. Krueger would go missing soon after, probably searching out Blaustein without telling him what is going on. Of course, Blaustein understands that something bad must have happened and he is smart enough to count two and two together. Krueger would find a new PMC, maybe he would even stay with Coalition (Blaustein’s faction) for a bit. But he is a wanderer at heart, so it wouldnt last longer than a year. Nikto was the only thing tying him to a specific faction, so he starts moving again, with regular visits to Hans though. As for Nikto… he would be pursued by Nikodim, who thinks that he is helping. Their relationship might very well break under that pressure, leaving Nikto much worse off, just because his stability and his support system is gone. He eventually rebuilds routine on his own, but before that, he would probably burn himself out in an attempt not to grief too much.

To make it short: Krueger would let himself feel what he feels, accepting it for what it is and seek the support that he might need. Nikto would very much do the opposite and repress in order to continue being functional, even if this ruins a lot of things for him. Both would be incredibly affected. I don’t know if they would actually cry. If they do, it comes over them in the middle of the night without any warning. They want to turn around to hug the other and they find themselves alone. For Krueger, it’s a few tears. Nikto is angry ugly crying, clutching the pillow and staring at noting.

Krueger keeps Nikto’s last pill bottle in his pack, using it for his own drugs. Nikto keeps Krueger’s net on his bedpost. Both store the other’s gear. Nikto in his room, Krueger with Blaustein, since Hans has a more steady lifestyle.

BUUUUUUUT since Krueger is an unkillable cockroach (derogatory) and Nikto is very capable and has a second pair of eyes attached to a man which would go to length to safe him… they are fine. Very fine. VERY FINE AND HAPPY. (I can’t do mcd unless it’s a “growing old” setting. I am weak.)

As for the glasses: very easy. Nikto is used to taking medication and having to subsidise for things his body is not able to do anymore (mostly because of his mental illness, but I also imagine him to have issues with mild erectile dysfunction/maintaining an erection if he is not actively having sex right in that moment.) so he would wear some cheap old man glasses. He has like three pairs, all various stages of scratched/disrepair.

Krueger on the other hand would not like it. At all. He has lived his life being able to do everything without aid, running into an active warzone without proper protection and coming out mostly unscathed. It would take some time until he could accept glasses properly. Not because of pride or of others seeing him like this, but because he has to admit that he is no longer fully “self-sufficient”. Especially because he has above average eyesight! Nikto would tease him a bit until he notices that Sebastian does not wear his glasses. They might have a gruff, short talk about it after Nikto sees Krueger holding his phone very far away from himself, squinting in annoyance while trying to read his messages. Krueger wears the damn thing after that. At home. Sometimes.

[scoobydoodean]

As monumental as the confession scene was, it kinda leaves a bad taste in my mouth that Cas only confessed because he was going to sacrifice himself. Like, Dean's worthy of being saved, but he's not worthy of being loved in a way that's not going to wreck him long term?

Well, I think we can safely say Cas did not mean it this way and would be horrified if confronted by this angle, but that it would be well within Dean's perspective (built on his own experience) to think of it that way and become even more convinced that loving him is a death sentence and that everyone will always leave him. Multiple people have proved they're willing to die for Dean Winchester and there's nothing special about it (from his perspective). He wants some to live for him instead.

Cas doesn't really know how fiercely Dean mourns him when he's gone, and while I think he's cognizant of Dean's insecurities to some extent, I'm not sure he realizes exactly how deep they go. Even if Cas was told like "Well when you were dead, Dean spent months drinking himself into the ground" or "When you and Mary and Crowley were dead, Dean had a suicide kit and he used it and when you came back he said it was his 'big win'". I sometimes think Cas would have trouble processing that he'd have anything to do with Dean's bouts of depression because of his own hang ups.

See: Cas hearing Dean pray to Cas every night for a year, searching for him through Purgatory, and Cas never getting it through his head that whole time that Dean wasn't going to leave without him and wasn't interested in his self-flagellating isolation play to "protect" Dean (which—if we're being real—wasn't just about protecting Dean).

See: Cas hearing Dean stress throughout season 12 that he worries about Cas when he goes radio silent on them and that he wants them to communicate with each other and work as a team, and Cas going "okay" then stealing The Colt so he can go radio silent on them and get a win all by himself and decidedly not as a team because Cas does not want that.

Like. There is clearly a HUGE disconnect between them when it comes to how to communicate as a team and what it means to protect the people you love. More than that—their own psychological needs and desires for themselves as individuals seem to vary quite substantially (and they clash and create more miscommunication). They both crave safety and stability, but to Cas, safety and stability means knowing "I got a win, I did a good job, and now when I go home I feel respected and needed" and to Dean, "a win" means his family is safe. To Dean, safety and stability means, "We are all together in our home, and we tell each other where we're going when we leave. We handle things as a team and communicate with each other instead of going behind each others backs."

Cas really slots himself into the protector role and I think to an extent, Dean is willing to concede that role to him. See: Rocky's bar, where Dean imagines himself as retired and working as a barkeep. He's still perfectly capable of defending himself, but he doesn't go out looking for hunts. Sam and Cas are still hunting, but Dean feels psychologically safe about it because he knows where they are, and they always come home to his bar to see him and to be fed. In real life, Cas slots himself pretty aggressively into the protector role, but he doesn't communicate and doesn't always value teamwork. He doesn't realize while trying to "protect" their family that his aggressive tendency to isolate from them to "protect" them is 1) reminiscent of Dean's father and 2) distressing to Dean because Dean doesn't know (as a person who has lost many people he cares about including Cas multiple times) where Cas is or that he is safe or if he needs their help. Cas also doesn't see his tendency to lone wolf as abandonment and doesn't see any self-centeredness in it, but Dean does (and I don't think Dean is totally off—just like I don't think Cas was avoiding Dean in Purgatory just to keep Dean safe and for no other reason).

Anyway. All of this to say. I have said in the past that it is very possible that Cas would avoid Dean if he came back after The Empty took him. But say Cas did openly and with abandon continue to acknowledge that he loves Dean. I think if Dean withdrew from him, it would be so much fun if it was less out of timidness and fear and more out of anger. Dean knows what Cas is trying to say, but Dean doesn't feel understood, and he doesn't feel loved even if Cas loves him, and I could totally see a reality where Dean tries to give Cas a taste of his own medicine by making Cas chase him all over the country about it in a game of cat and mouse. Obviously, Cas is growing increasingly impatient and angry about this as he pursues his charge and intense sexual tension is building the whole time so when Cas finally catches up to Dean they aggressively fuck each other about it.

[dufferpuffer]

Why do you think Arthur’s physical description is important to his character?

This is one of the characters I think the movies fucked up visually. Is it the biggest deal in the world? No. Though that's partly because so many of his scenes were straight up cut. But it is a shame.

I think Mark Williams brought a lot of warmth to the character. He feels like a lovely average father - who likes sport a normal amount and likes his eccentric hobby a large amount. He is sweet and fun, can be a little stern when he needs to be... ...But he is also kinda dopey. Even when he needs to come across as serious and capable.

He has a constant sense of being a little lost. A little soft. Does his best but typically feels like he is out of his depth wherever he is. He basically looks like how I imagined Bagman.

This isn't how he is in the books. In the books he serves as a near constant voice-of-reason and source of information. He calms people down quickly and efficiently, takes control of situations responsibly and isn't afraid to tell it like it is. In fact he considers being honest and accurate very important, having seen a lot of darkness, suffering and death in his life.

When other people wont touch a topic because it is too sad, too scary or too stressful - he walks right in and brings it up. When everyone else is panicking he keeps his cool and works hard. A capable leader. Reliable, intelligent, strong and quick-witted. Everyone knows him, likes him - and owes him a favor or two because he's been solving problems for everyone.

Is that how Movie!Arthur comes across...?

In the books - he is tall and thin, similar to Bill, Percy and Ron. His red hair is balding and he wears horn-rimmed glasses on a kind face - im thinking a geek-ish vibe (younger Dr. Isaac Kleiner) He wears green robes and a long dusty traveling cloak. Simple and professional, if a little battered by a hard working life.

He sounds like an average sort of guy whose defining trait is his intelligence. Perhaps he is a little eccentric and scattered at times - but he can actually be quite imposing. He doesn't sound dopey.

Tangent: 'What is the function of a rubber duck?' isn't canon. He collects plugs. He knows the proper way to use a fellytone. He can drive cars. He understands Muggle clothing in detail - and how to get by without magic or eckletricity when camping. He works with Muggles for his job. He isn't clueless.

Another thing: He and Molly are not visually distinct in the Movies.

Broad, friendly, homely, browns, patchwork and plaid - hair a little messy and tummies a little soft. They are almost always shown together and melt into a single 'warm parent' character. But they aren't the same. They are very different people and parents, yet fit together well as an odd-shaped team. Looking like that - like opposites that fit together well - portrays that at a glance.

That's my thoughts. I think for the scripts he was given Mark Williams did a good job of getting the gentle loving core of Arthur - and he's just a cutie. Look at him. He needs a cuppa tea.

But I also think that, as Arthur is a side-enough character people don't put much thought into his scenes, the Movie version of him pops up in their heads even when reading the books.

[sunsetsover]

I don't think people say GMMTV is sabotaging FK; the correct word would be neglecting. GMMTV neglects FK, and it is extremely obvious if you pay attention.

idk what exactly prompted this ask bc i made that post like a week ago and from what i can tell it hasn't really got any notes for the past few days and i haven't even been online so maybe this is just something that had been bothering you? idk but. and i don't mean to be rude when i say this! but i must say i don't like the tone of this. i'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it was accidental, but jsyk this came off as very passive aggressive, like im somehow an idiot for not seeing it. and i will tell you that i have definitely seen people accusing gmmtv of sabotaging fkt and thk, which as i said is silly, but yes some do say that! i've seen it with my own two eyes lmao

like literally today i saw someone on twitter saying exactly this bc the gmmtv twt account posted upcoming events for the next week. now mind you! first is LITERALLY on holiday with his family rn, so how (and more importantly why) do they expect him to have events next week? well when someone mentioned that in the replies, their response was just 'well clearly you don't see it the way i do' which ?? what way is that ?? that he's on holiday?? that he can't be in two places at once??? and other people in the replies were like 'well why can't khaotung have solo events!' and it's like ?? idk maybe bc he's at home gaming, hanging out with his sister and playing his instruments ?? maybe it's bc the two of them are CLEARLY on a break and just bc khaotung is still at home doesn't mean he's not RESTING??

and yes i'm mad about that kind of stuff! it comes off as so selfish and spoilt!! and not to make everything about bts but bts have this exact same issue w some fans to the point where armys literally came up w a name for to refer to these kind of fans: mantis (manager+anti). an explanation of what that means from reddit (bc it's better than i could ever explain it): 'Mantis are antis who essentially hide behind “stanning” so much that they themselves feel like they know the group, and their career, better than the group does. These are the fans constantly trying to "protect" them, beyond normal levels. The type to think they are constantly mistreated/tortured by the company and don't get to make any decisions of their own. Also tend to call out other fans "for not being real fans" if they don't join in on the concern.' like literally i read some of stuff some (emphasis on SOME) fkt fans say and it literally is like. i have played these games before!

and listen i'm not gonna pretend i know much of anything abt that company. i'm new here as it is and i really don't pay attention to any other actors or shows or whatever to compare it to so im deffo not the authority in this regard!

but all that said i 1000% get the impression that there are some fans that kinda... infantilise fkt when it comes to their work. like they have no choice or agency and gmmtv are keeping them locked in a basement somewhere. and i do believe that the majority of them mean well (altho i do think a lot of them want/expect way too much from fkt but i'll get to that), but it's almost as if they forget they're grown men who are more than capable of advocating for themselves. i mean fucking hell, was it not them aggressively advocating for themselves for years that got them put on a show together in the first place? first and khaotung are clearly not people who have difficulty going after what they want, esp when together. i've heard that fkt are notoriously picky about which scripts they accept, which doesn't sound to me like people who are really being neglected by their company. neglected actors don't get the luxury of being picky about jobs. neglected actors are lucky to get any jobs.

(and this goes for events and stuff too, which is a common gripe i've seen. in my opinion - and this is just mine! - people who take their acting as seriously as first and khaotung may not want to take loads of events where they're essentially glorified salesmen. and i mean that with no shade bc make that bag always, but as i see it that's all those events are - extra money in their pockets. i can't see how they would do anything for their career really. and doesn't it just make sense that if they're picky abt their jobs that would also extend into events and stuff too? like? i mean ppl are free to disagree w me on this bc this is just my opinion but yknow. i just think ppl make this into a bigger thing than it is)

and funnily enough i also saw a thread on twt the other day abt how fkt are much bigger internationally than they are in thailand. the shows they've opted to do (again, opted, bc they have a choice) are shows that allegedly don't appeal to a domestic market like most other gmmtv shows do. and so, no matter how you or i might feel abt it, from a business pov it makes sense that they might not be getting the opportunities some other actors might be getting if there simply just isn't demand for it domestically. which sucks, but if that's how it is, that's how it is.

and don't get me wrong i completely get viciously advocating for your faves ok? im an army. for half of bts' career fans were all they had. but sometimes that advocacy becomes a) kinda ridiculously demanding given the context and b) almost condescending. or very condescending sometimes. this goes for bts and fkt both. and while it's all well and good wanting things for them, all i'm saying is let's not forget that they are grown men who are not new to this business. not to mention the fact they have a known track record of advocating for themselves, or the fact that they enough scripts coming their way to be able to be picky, or the fact that already have a new show lined up. first has two even! and a show currently airing! and a cameo that just aired like last week! and another one we know is coming! like my god these are not men who are hurting for work rn.

and in my humble opinion, coming to learn about this industry relatively recently, i think ppl expect too much from these actors overall. i think a lot of them - fkt included - work a hell of a fucking lot actually. i think demanding much more is just selfishness. if im honest. like yes it's nice to see them doing events and stuff. but it's not necessary. and i'll be honest! would i like more interviews and magazines and things like that? sure! but like i said if the demand isn't there, neither will the offers be. that's just the reality of what it is! i'm not going to be sending trucks about it lmfao

the bottom line is this: i'm not saying gmmtv do or don't neglect them. i don't have enough information to have a strong enough opinion one way or the other. but from the outside looking in they seem to be doing just fine. they've got work. they've seemingly got money. and like i said, they're grown men. this is their careers. if they have issues with one thing or another, i trust that they will address those issues as they see fit between themselves and their company. until the day that first and/or khaotung themselves express unhappiness or discontentment, i will take them at face value and believe that they're happy w the way things are. bc literally who tf am i to tell them they should be doing anything different?

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

 The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

  I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

  “Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

  “Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

  “Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

  “Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

  “You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

  “That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

  “Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

  “You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

  Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

  “It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out. 

****

  Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

  “Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door. 

  “You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

  My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

  “Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

  I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

  Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

 “I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

  “Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end. 

  “Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

  “Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

  “Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds. 

****

 A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

  “I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.” 

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

  “Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

  “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth. 

  “Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

  “Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

  “Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

  “We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?” Dean asks.

  “He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask.   “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically.   “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

  “They have it,” John announces.

  “‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

  “If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

  “The gun–why?” Sam pushes.   “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons. 

  “They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful.   “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

  “You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

  “You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

  “Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

  I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is. 

  “You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.”   “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers. 

  “Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

  “The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

  “Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

  “Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

  “Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips. 

  My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

  I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement. 

  “What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

  “How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him. 

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

 The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly. 

  “Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you. 

  “Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds.   “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad. 

  “It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed. 

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

  “We are,” John answers vaguely.

  “How do you know?” 

  John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.” 

  Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

  “It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.” 

  “Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.” 

  I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

  “What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

  The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

  “I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

  “It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow.   “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

  “What?”

  Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out. 

  “Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

  “Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

  “It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing. 

  “Oh God,” Dean mumbles. 

  “He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

  Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

  “He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons.   “What reason?” Sam pushes.

  “Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”   “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?” 

  A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

 We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

  “Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

  “Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

  “How?” 

  “I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

  Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

  “What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

  “We need to talk.”

  John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

  “About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

  “Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

  “You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds.   “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!”   “Get back in the car.”   “No.”   “I said get back in the damn car.”   “Yeah. And I said no.”

  “Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.”  “What’d you say?”

  Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

  “Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “You walked away!” John yells in his face.

  “Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps.   “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

  Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!”   They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

  With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

  “Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

  “So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

  “Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked. 

  Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

  “So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks.   “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

  It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

  Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

  “Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

  “Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

  I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

  “You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

  “Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

  “Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

  “Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn. 

  I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions. 

  I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor. 

  Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

  I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

  I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

  By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

  “Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it. 

  The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die. 

  “They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath.   “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

  I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

  “No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

  “Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

  “You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

  “No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.” 

  “You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

  “Dean—”

  “Not on my watch.”   “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away. 

  “Not happening.”

  “Don’t you want that gun?”

  He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

  “I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

  “I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue.   His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

  The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

 “We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

  After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

  Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

  I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly. 

  Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.” 

  And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

  Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth. 

  She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

  “Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

  Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

  I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

  The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

  Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

  “That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face. 

  “‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

  “Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

  “Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

  “Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

  “She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.”   “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers.   “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

  “But…”

  “Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

  “I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

  “That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

  “And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

  “I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

  “‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

  “But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like children,” Sam answers firmly.   “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away.   “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him.   “Excuse me?”

  I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”   “It's not the same thing, Dean.”   “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”   “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.”   “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

  “Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

  I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives.   “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

  Sam nods.

  “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit.  “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

  We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

  We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

  Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

  Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter. 

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

  I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

  “You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers.   “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

  “You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods.   “I am?”

  “It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.”   “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

  “And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

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[le0n-ardo]

What it's like dating💙 Rise!Leonardo 💙 - SFW Headcanons/ficlet

x f!reader

Disclaimer: all my writings contemplate the turtles aged up at about their late 20s, with the reader at the same age range. Your media consumption is your own responsibility ✨ dividers by @/cafekitsune

More Ninja Turtle headcanons in my masterlist!

You were down bad the moment you saw that little smirk. The way he'd flash his teeth added that extra spark to his oh-so-smug eyes, and the airy little purr of confidence in his voice that had your ears ringing, both put together made for a deadly combo.

The first time he winked at you, you were a goner.

Leonardo's courtship was full of him showing off for you and taking every opportunity to do so. Whether it was his agile prowess as a ninja or his bladework, Leonardo would make sure you were looking whenever he reached the peak of his stunts. Admittedly, what was more charming was his intent on impressing you than the acts he did to achieve that, adding to his appeal.

For the first few weeks of knowing him, you viewed Leonardo in that light: confident, if not slightly arrogant, but not in a way that would do any harm. He'd pose with his katanas resting on his shoulder, flash that smirk over at you, and you'd go weak in the knees. How could you ever resist such a charismatic, fearless, handsome, capable warrior?

Very soon, you saw his goofy side.

Oh, his brothers told you he was even worse back when they were all teens. They told you many times you arrived at a point in Leonardo's life when he wasn't, well... chaos incarnate?

You struggled to envision just how much further his antics went when he was younger because as soon as Leonardo grew closer to you and trusted you more, his jokes became more frequent, you saw more expressions on his face other than that flirty grin, and he let you see how he truly got along with his siblings.

It was a shock at first, but you knew it only meant he was serious about you. And ultimately, when Leonardo showed you that side of him and saw that you stayed, he knew you were serious about him too.

He always compliments you on how hot you look.

Leonardo knows what a great partner he has in you, and he definitely shows you off whenever he can.

This goes from proudly gesturing at you for everyone else to behold to him yelling "Yeah, that's my girlfriend right there!" and "That's right, she's dating moi!" or things like that when you do something nice, or simply for no dang reason at all.

Leonardo also loves to keep an arm draped around you, whether you're in company of others or not. He loves feeling close to you.

He loves it when you scratch/stroke under his chin and the base of his neck.

Sometimes, when you're working out, he'll walk up to you and cheer you on, compliment you, or simply watch you with a little grin in hopes that you'll invite him into the workout or simply let him coach you.

He will also randomly pull you in for a dance, spinning you around and dipping you even if there's no music around. Leonardo will take the lead each time and he'll always make sure you're having a great time with it. He loves the feeling of your hands firmly on his shoulders when you dance.

Speaking of, Leonardo absolutely flexes and invites you to feel his bicep just 'cause.

Leonardo is also the type of boyfriend who'll goof off and purposely become all mushy and romantic for the mere reason of bugging his brothers and making them gag. He loves that you go along with these efforts.

When you're alone with him, Leonardo doesn't necessarily do a 180 on his personality, but he's much calmer and softer. He'll still joke and goof around with you, but Leonardo loves to simply lie on the bed or sit on the couch with you and cuddle while you two talk about virtually anything.

At times like those, Leonardo usually takes the upper hand and cuddles you, but he's also very fond of you being the big spoon or hugging him while he rests his head on your chest.

Leonardo loves when you gently stroke the top and back of his head. It's a great way to get him to fall asleep or tone down the silliness - not that you'd ever want that because you love his sparkling personality.

As part of that sparkling personality, Leonardo's shows of affection are rather playful too. Sometimes, he'll take your hand and kiss it with excessive chivalry, bowing down to you and looking up at you with that smug, signture smirk of his. If you're in private, he'll sporadically kiss you on the arms and shoulders, and he's also not a stranger to the occasional affectionate bite.

Just imagine Leonardo biting your shoulder, firm yet soft, with his flirty grin as he looks up at you. You look down and meet his gaze, making him stop biting only to move up to peck you on the lips. He smirks, knowing it gets you every time.

Leonardo is also fiercely protective of you, and you (and everyone else) quickly find out that your safety is not something he's willing to joke about.

The few times you've been close to being in trouble or in danger while dating Leonardo have been the times you've seen him actually angry, and you really think him capable of avenging your honor if anyone so much as tries to scare you.

Seriously, Leonardo's wonderfully sweet and chaotic and chivalrous around you, but a formidable, menacing Leonardo is truly something to behold.

Meanwhile, you've never felt safer knowing your katana-wielding boyfriend is keeping watch over you.

Plus, something about an angry, no-more-bullshit Leonardo makes him more attractive. It reminds you that despite his charm and wit, Leonardo's absolutely capable of being a fearless leader, and you hope to be with him long enough to see him evolve into one.

It was quiet at the lair, what with almost everyone else having gone out on the important mission of getting enough pizzas for the night. You were making your way quietly across the dojo when you saw Leonardo in the middle of a hand-stand with his teeth forming a little grimace of concentration as he shifted his weight onto his left hand, attempting to lift his right one off the floor to balance. You couldn't help but stop and look at him and his perfect, elegant form, making the difficult nearly seem effortless if it weren't for the brief quivers his body gave while he tried to balance.

While you watched him silently, you heard him let out a soft laugh.

"I know you're there," he acknowledged your presence even though his back was turned on you.

"Please don't stop on my account," you replied.

Leonardo laughed again, the sound draped with the confidence that came to him whenever he wanted to flirt with you. "You wouldn't like that, would you? You just love watching me do this."

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Sure, Leon. Sure."

"Don't I know it," he snickered as he placed his right hand down again and began shuffling in that position. "Hey, hey, hey, watch this. Watch this."

He used his hands to walk over to you, his movements graceful - you knew a hand-walk like that required a lot of strength in the body - but you felt like teasing him. You pretended to be distracted with the details of the dojo, looking everywhere except at him as he approached you.

"You aren't looking, baby," Leonardo called to you, fully aware of what you were doing.

"Oh, sorry, are you doing something?" You questioned with your gaze on the roof.

"Oh, that's what it's gonna be like, huh?" Leonardo accepted your challenge and shifted himself back to standing normally. His abilities as a ninja allowed him to, in one swift movement, be up close to you as he swept you in his arms, wrapping them just below your bottom to lift you up and spin you around, relishing in the sound of your surprise-infused giggles. "Guess I'll just have to get up real close to you, that'll make you keep your eyes on me, won't it, beautiful?"

"Leon!" You squealed between giggles as he kept spinning you flashing that flirty smirk at you. He knew what he was doing with that glint of mischief, and you loved that he did. He was truly irresistible when he looked at you like that, and you couldn't help but lean down and kiss him.

The feeling of your lips on his made Leonardo slow his movements until you weren't spinning anymore, and without breaking the kiss, he gently lowered you to stand on the ground again, straightening his body so that his arms were now wrapped around your lower back. You held his shoulders, and then you slowly slid your hands up his neck to cup his face, feeling as he gently shivered under your grip and his skin grew warm and dewy, prompting you to pause the kiss and pull apart.

"Are you sweating?" You asked him.

"Well, yeah," Leonardo said in a low purr. "Didn't you see how hard I was training?"

"I did."

"Yeah? What did you think?" He grinned.

"Very impressive," you humored him.

"I figured," Leonardo briefly wiggled in pride.

"You're so strong," you chose to humor him further.

"Yeah?" He prompted with that same purr in his voice, letting go of you to raise his arms to his sides and flexing them to highlight his muscles.

"Yeah," you replied.

"Yeah?" He asked again, inching his face slowly closer to yours while still flexing.

"Yeah," your voice lowered too, and you let your hands travel down to his shoulders again.

"Kiss me," Leonardo finally beckoned, lowering his arms to hold your waist.

You gladly obliged and perked up on your toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself closer to him, kissing him with a gentle passion and sinking in completely to him. You let his broad frame secure you, with a firm grip around your waist, as he pressed himself slightly harder onto you to deepen the kiss. You let your instincts guide your fingertips to gently brush over the markings on Leonardo's shoulder, and you delighted in the soft, airy moan that escaped him as he wrapped his arms even tighter around you.

Leonardo moaned into the kiss again a bit louder, but shorter too as his attention was drawn to another matter at hand. "We do have the place to ourselves."

You opened your eyes and looked at him enticingly. "Who are we pranking this time?"

"I already switched out the water in Donnie's bottle for vinegar," Leonardo grinned.

You gasped. "You started without me?"

"Now now, there's plenty more we could do," Leonardo wiggled.

"You're right," you nodded. "Donnie's gonna wanna was the taste of vinegar off with something else. What would be his first choice?"

"Tap water," Leonardo replied.

"Let's seal the water flow to the taps and hide a frog in the cupboard where he'll have to reopen it," you said. "He'll be so agitated that he'll open it fast and trigger a fight response. You wanna see Donnie with a frog on his head, right?"

Leonardo chuckled and lifted you off the ground again. "You evil little mastermind."

"Just how you like me," you cooed.

"Very much," Leonardo purred before kissing you softly one more time, then pulling away and grinning with mischief. "Alright, I'll catch the frog."

You can see my masterlist for more if you want!

Reblogs are appreciated! 💙

[tales-from-the-blu-team]

The noise caught both of their attention.

"H-hey. Don't die on us now!" Mac yelled panicked.

Fritz reached him first and checked for vitals. Still breathing.

"He's not dying." He reassured Mac.

"Then what the heck happened there?" Mac looked up at Fritz.

"In my professional opinion, he is still suffering from heat exhaustion. Perhaps lack of food and more dehydration." He stood up, almost ashamed of himself.

"I should have seen this. But I didn't." Fritz said more to himself than to Mac.

"Help me move him. Touma is too heavy for me to move alone." He said to Mac who was already moving to help.

"You do a mighty fine job carrying the rest of us when we're hurt." Mac pointed out almost teasingly.

"I would be a poor field doctor if I couldn't get my patients to safety." Fritz huffed.

Together the two moved Touma to the nearest bed. Medic wiping the grime off of their guest so that he could at least be somewhat clean while he rested. Mac quietly came back with a toolbox, ready to try and do some repairs.

Perhaps not now but when Touma woke up.

"I'm going to try and set up an IV drip for him. I cannot say how successful this will be or how much it will help or how much his robotic parts will interfere." Fritz said as he got his equipment ready.

"Im fixing to draw up schematics of his robotic parts. Make a guideline for what he's meant to look like before he ...you know....meets the business end of a sticky bomb." Mac looked at Touma sadly.

"Poor fella. He's gone from one hell to another one. We don't know if he can fight or how well or..or well neither of us seems to know what he's capable of."

A thought occured to Mac. "I wonder how his power source is doing. Or where it is. Gotta check that too."

"Hmm hmm. Perhaps you can see if he can eat food like the rest of us as well." Fritz walked to his desk.

"I must work on filling out a file for him while he rests. Keep watching on him."

( @the-blu-cyborg )

Heat. Heat surrounded Touma in a dense, suffocating cocoon. The only thing keeping him clinging onto consciousness was the feeling or something tugging and scratching at the skin on his back.

With a grunt, he tried to roll over to see what that something was, and caught a brief glimpse of wings taking off into the air through vision that was grainy and blurred, as if he were viewing the world through a bad camera. The sky above was blue, and more vultures were circling overhead.

His skin was rough and parched. He had no recollection of how he’d ended up in this desert, or how long he’d been suffering under the rays of its sun. But one thing was for certain - he wasn’t in Canada anymore.

His body felt strange, heavy. He tried to clear his vision, but rubbing his eyes did nothing to help.

And then he saw his hand. A hand that was made entirely of metal. His legs, too. Even through the bad quality of his vision he could make out scars all over his body, as if someone had simply decided to hack him apart and rebuild him.

What the hell had happened?

Ms Pauling was a busy woman.

She was always busy.

There was always paperwork to be done, people to be killed and bodies to be discarded. Her hands were caked with blood and she loved it.

She loved what she did because it was thrilling. It was dangerous, but most importantly, it was for Her.

She had faith in the Administrator. If she told her to jump, she'd ask how high.

It would all be worth it, she knew this deep down.

She was to check in on the Mercs, all the while keeping her involvement with both sides a secret. Not from everyone, the Engineers knew more than anyone else. But they kept their mouths shut.

Well, she worried more about the Blu Engineer than the Red. Dell knew his role and played it well.

Pauling saw him as a friend of sorts in the way fellow employees may when they were partners in a project known only to them.

Mac was defiant in his own quiet ways.

Untrusting.

He disliked her but he was polite and ultimately did was asked of him, albeit with an air of resentment.

Surely, the Administrator didn't really need two Engineers? And from the same family?

She felt some sort of pity for him, had offered him an olive branch in the form of a map showing all the payphones in New Mexico and which ones had the least amount of activity.

He had taken it, albeit warily. She has offered him a link to something he missed the most. That made him vulnerable.

His family.

And that was how things stood between them.

She wondered if she would ever be on decent standing with him, but if she only had Dell to rely on, then that was more than fine. He was the link that made Mac work more obediently with Pauling.

Mac trusted Dell and Dell was the better engineer and Merc.

As she drove across the desert, a flash of something shiny and the presence of vultures overhead caught her attention.

She was on a tight schedule..but...this could be important.

She changed course and pulled up closer to where this mystery lay. Parking her car a safe distance away and hidden best she could, she drew her gun and approached carefully.

@the-blu-cyborg

[waitineedaname]

I think the funniest way to spin Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng's dynamic is if they work really well together, but they fucking hate it the whole time. these are two guys who know how to Get Down To Business when the situation calls for it, and when they have a common goal, they can work towards it efficiently. they just can't stand it the whole time

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Something really great about the persona 2 cast is that they all individually fucking SUCK to talk to casually. Every single one of them. They are all infuriating. We have:

Tatsuya, who will stare at you blankly if you try to initiate conversation (IS) and will dip without saying a word afterward (EP)

Batsuya, who will scoff and brush you off/otherwise act dismissive

Eikichi, who might honestly be the best to talk to in the IS crew and that is not saying much, who WILL talk extremely loudly over you (probably not on purpose?) and will not be paying particularly close attention to the conversation beyond whatever he wants to say (gets points for talking about his gf. gets points taken away for constantly talking about his gf)

Lisa, who will automatically assume bad faith and will be rude to you the entire conversation unless you manage to defuse her temper (good luck)

Jun, who is uncommunicative at BEST and requires an encyclopedic knowledge of flowers, metaphor and body language just to get a HINT on what he’s thinking, and who will be extremely polite but completely unhelpful. If you tried asking him what he wants for dinner I guarantee it will be the longest 30 minutes of your life as he goes “oh I have no opinion :) whatever you want. :))” EXCEPT HE DOES HAVE OPINIONS. He has SO MANY OPINIONS. He is Expecting you to be able to pick up on his “obvious” clues. He will be passive aggressive if you don’t. (Jun babygirl you suck so bad I love u)

Maya, who is a delight but will very quickly become grating if you try to talk to her about anything serious as she hits you with the white suburban mom's "how to live a happy, healthy life" lifecoach slogans. You can’t even mention, like, stepping in a puddle or something without her hitting you with the positivity beam.

Yukino is great actually. 10/10. She’s fabulous we love her. Incredible conversationalist, chill and fun and easy to get along with. But she’s from Persona One, she doesn’t Count.

Ulala, who WILL bring up her relationship problems in every conversation within 10 minutes at least once. Any longer and she will start talking about Maya.

Do I even need to explain Baofu. Have you seen him.

And finally, Katsuya, who is a cop and a kiss ass and Very Obvious about these things. Also he can't talk to women. He can barely talk to men. Help Him.

And yet they all work wonderfully as a group. They are so annoying I love them

[quietwingsinthesky]

i know what tattoo millie doesn’t have, because during the short period where lucifer’s possessing her, she keeps taking the wheel of the vessel to go and get herself the ugliest cartoon devil tattoos money can buy. lucifer is wasting precious grace getting those off of her body because he can’t stand them, and then she just goes and gets another one in a couple days time.

[wildstar25]

What physical part(s) of Arsay does her partners find the most attractive! Is it the same for all partners or does it differ between them?

(also optional bonus ask of what part(s) of/about Arsay generally do they love the most, physical or not!)

Meanwhile, if you were to ask the same of Arsay: