#to be clear i know this is really shit bait and i'm just using it to elaborate on my terminology so thanks anon LOL

[irawhiti]

tphilippines is pacific islander, why are you acting like its not? kinda racist

yeah i mean this is VERY low quality bait but i'll use it as an excuse to talk about my opinions since i'm a very talkative person lol.

"pacific islander" is a term for polynesians, micronesians, and melanesians. the borders that the united states (and only the united states) use in the pacific are not even remotely related to the terms used by pasifika as a whole. like for example i'm very sick of being included in the acronym "aapi" because that literally means "asian american pacific islander" and is clearly a usamerican term. i am not aapi. i am not an american pacific islander. different terms have different meanings.

everyone i know from, uh, "tphilippines" as you called it, is equally extremely pissed off by the insistence that they're pasifika. like, it is quite literally purely a usamerican census idea that filipino americans are pacific islanders. every single other place in the pacific (and in the philippines lmfao) mocks the concept of you guys being pacific islanders as a whole. i get it's a weird political thing there with the census in the united states and only the united states, but please listen, you are not pasifika. you're absolutely deserving of your own politics, but you aren't a pacific islander. please understand that, while asia and the pacific are connected in many ways, we are very different cultures. i am not asian, you are not a pacific islander.

i understand that politics are very complex, but i will fully disagree that filipino USamericans are pacific islanders. i'm sorry, but that is something that is totally unique to your own government, not something that is based in reality. you guys are absolutely austronesian, but no, you are not pasifika in literally every single country but your own, under specific political census stats. please understand this.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

55 / 1.2k / first time meeting Ghost for medic reader

...

"Don't expect to be treated special," the skull-faced man tells you. " if someone needs patching, which is unlikely, don’t expect them to be a grateful patient." Ghost leads you through the halls, your medical bag slung over his shoulder. "And we don't care for small talk. Nor do we care how you do your job. Just do it. We don't care if you like us or not. Actually, I prefer you don't get any funny ideas about befriending me."

Is that all. Twenty minutes ago you arrived and already the Simon Riley so graciously rolls out the welcome wagon. You take it by the way he hefts your bag down that he's finished with his talk and you can get to work.

"That's perfectly fine," you tell him. Mildly, as if he didn't just tell you to mind your own fucking business in so many words. "Thank you. If you'll excuse me."

"I won't," he says. "The Captain tasked me with keeping an eye on you. Can't really do that if you walk away."

You halt and turn to peer at him. "I'm sorry?"

He doesn't even look at you. Instead, he begins casually cleaning an already shining knife. "Price told me to make sure you get nice and settled in. So I'm keeping watch."

Your jaw flexes. "Tell Captain Price I don't need a babysitter. You're dismissed."

He pauses The stare he gives you from behind that mask is halting. "You should really learn to be a bit more polite to your superiors. I don't take orders from you. If Price says you need supervision, I'm supervising."

"You're not my superior," you tell him. "And I'm not your recruit. I'm a contractor."

"Let me make one thing clear, medic," he growls. "Everyone on this base follows a chain of command, and that includes you. You might have a contract, you might not be a recruit, but on this team, you answer to the boss. And right now, he said I'm keeping an eye on you. So if you want to have words with me..."

He takes a step closer, leaning down to your eye level.

"I'd suggest you swallow them."

Even without the height difference, his gaze is like a physical weight. You stare back for a long moment. There's a challenge in those dark eyes, daring you to push him. He's looking for an excuse to put you in your place, and you know it.

You refuse to take the bait. Without saying a word, You turn your back and walk away, making your way toward the medical offices. He follows you, humming a tune and flipping the knife tip-first between his fingers.

If he wants to babysit, fine. It won't stop you from doing your goddamn job.

Days later, you're hard at work. It's near midnight. You've been on your feet for around 30 hours.

The door to the medical office slides open and Ghost walks in. It's clear from one look at him that he hadn't gotten any sleep either. He's been on a series of missions back to back for two days straight. With a deep sigh, he leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest.

"You're still awake?" he asks.

You glance at him. "You look like hell."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." His eyes sweep over you. He takes note of the dark circles under your eyes, the exhaustion clear on your face. It's obvious that you're just as tired as he is. "You've been at this too long. How long since you took a break?"

You look back down at your work. "Doesn't matter. There's still work to do."

He pushes himself off the counter and walks over to you. His footsteps are heavy on the floor. "This how you take care of yourself? Work until you pass out?"

"What's it to you? I do my job."

"You work yourself to exhaustion, you won't be able to do jack shit." He's now standing directly behind you. He looks down to see you're doing inventory of the medical supplies. He glances at how fast your fingers move, how you never stop. It's obvious that you're pushing yourself.

"I know what I'm doing."

"You're going to goddamn kill someone."

As you scan the list, you notice the tremors in your hands. Damn it.

"You have no room to talk." You turn around to stare him down so you don't have to keep seeing your own hands shake. Up close, he looks even worse. Christ, is that blood?

"Sit down," you command. "You're bleeding. You need a checkover."

He gives a deep sigh, tired. "S'not necessary."

He's downplaying the situation. Typical. But he does as he's told, sitting down on the exam table in front of you. There's no use trying to hide injuries from a medic.

You lift up the underside of his t-shirt to find the long cut stretching across his chest underneath. It was bandaged--though not well, and it's bleeding through. It isn't a life-threatening situation, but it'll need stitches, and it's definitely not the nothing he made it out to be.

"Hold this," you tell him, putting his shirt hem in his hand. "Keep still."

He winces. Despite his best efforts to hide the pain and discomfort, it's clear that it's more than a minor injury. He takes the shirt as instructed, holding it out of the way. He watches you in silence as you work, studying your focused expression and the methodical way you tend to his wound. You're not gentle by any means. But you're efficient. Even if it is annoying to have you fussing over him.

Though your work is hampered by your shaking hands and you're obviously frustrated about it. Your movements aren't as deft as they should be--not as quick as your eyes.

"Stay still," you snap.

"I'm not moving," he responds through gritted teeth.

Despite his best efforts to stay stoic, he frowns under his mask. Being patched up, sitting still and letting himself be tended to isn't something he's used to. Still, you're clearly in worse shape than he is. Somehow. His eyes dart from the sutures in his chest to your face.

You finish as quickly as you can. You know you've caused him unnecessary pain with this repair. But he shouldn't have gotten himself hurt in the first place. The cure should be more bitter than the cut, as far as you're concerned.

When you've snipped away the excess thread, you take a deep, slow breath, and it feels like whatever energy you had left escapes with it. You touch the stitches stretching across his pectoral muscle lightly. It jumps with the sudden tenderness. Then you apply a new bandage.

"There," you mutter. "Don't let it happen again."

"I don't plan on it." He scrutinizes your face again. Exhaustion and fatigue are etched into every feature. You're running on fumes. "You'd better go rest."

"Whatever happened to not caring about how I do my job?"

"Medic," he warns.

"I'm going," you mutter. "Don't you report this to Price again. I'm going."

"That's what I thought." He smooths his shirt down. He hides a smirk and rubs the aching stitches. "Don't let it happen again."

...

more Ghost / masterlist tag

[anistarrose]

So, it's not a moral failing to be bad at what I'm about to describe. But collectively, most of Tumblr is bad at identifying polls that function as bait for bigotry and harassment. Polls that, either intentionally or unintentionally, encourage people to spew hatred about a marginalized queer sub-community — because that sub-community is considered, at least by some, an acceptable enough target.

Most of us have probably seen that polyamory poll go around (as of September 2024). Fewer people have probably taken a look at the notes on that poll — and in many ways, that's for the best, because a lot of the notes are fucking vile. I won't link the poll itself, but content warning for threats of domestic violence and suicide in just this sampling. I don't know enough about the poll creator to make assumptions towards their intent, but that poll was functionally bait, acting as encouragement for people to spew vitriol and bigotry.

And none of this is specific to that individual poll! In December 2023, a single person made a series of polls about friends with benefits, and the "question" of whether aromantic heterosexual cisgender men were queer — and those polls led to huge waves of arophobia and sex negativity (inseparable from, let's be honest, some mask-off radfem shit). On top of that, multiple polls about people's feelings towards sex, or experiences with such, have turned into a festival for bashing both asexuals and virgins — insofar as the people doing the bashing use those words as anything but interchangeable insults.

Polyamorous people. Aromantic people, especially aromantic allosexuals. Asexual people, especially those who are virgins or sex-repulsed. That's a clear and obvious trend — they're all people who do relationships differently. People whose relationships and identities are considered "cringe." Who are considered acceptable targets to mock within the queer community. Making fun of "polycule drama," making fun of "queerplatonic," making fun of a-spec microlabels.

So many people who call themselves sex-positive refuse to extend that positivity to polyamorous people and aromantic people. To casual sex, to sex without monogamous romance. They insist that the polyamorous, the aromantic, are in fact the predators, the abusers, the degenerate queers that the conservative pearl-clutching queerphobes were right about. They tack on asexuals to the "abuser" category, too, because allegedly no one could ever be happy in a relationship with an asexual; because allegedly it's manipulative to your partner to refuse sex! Meanwhile, asexuality and sex repulsion are conflated with the completely different concept of sex negativity, twisting the language of sexual liberation to demonize asexuals further...

And yes, polls play a role in all of this! Of course, not every poll about sexual experiences, for one example, is a poll intended to bait or to harm people! But if they blow up, there is a high risk of people feeling emboldened to comment things like: "so many people are okay with casual sex, or multiple sexual partners! this is what's wrong with the world, it's all just toxic hookup culture!" Or if not that, then things like: "look how few people on this virgin loser website have had sex! this is what's responsible for cultural sex negativity! they'd all be better, more progressive queers if they just got laid more!"

And that's not even getting into the obvious, and obviously intentional bait. The "cishet aromantic men" poll, most egregiously. Clout-chasers hide behind the veil of "I'm just curious about people's opinions!" and then, put out a poll catered to the most rancid, exclusionist, verging-on-radfem opinions. At the very least, catered to platforming them seriously, when people inevitably feel emboldened to say that shit they've been thinking.

And "emboldened" really is the key word here. These polls increase the social acceptability of saying cruel shit about polyamorous people, a-spec people, and whoever else becomes the queer community's acceptable target of the year. The groups discussed in this post are by no means the only popular targets for harassment and exclusionism, but they are some of the most egregious examples I've seen personally, and they are tied together by their non-normative approaches to relationships or lack thereof. Moreover, the groups overlap — I am personally aromantic and asexual, not polyamorous — but even then, my struggles with amatonormativity overlap with those of polyamorous people.

And I bring this up because for years, I've witnessed popular Tumblr bloggers attack a-specs and polyamorous people within the same posts. With the same tactics, using cringe culture in addition to demonizing alternative types of relationships. Now, polls are another weapon for harassing us. And, it is... absolutely exhausting.

Of course, there's obviously a sliding scale of how prone polls can be to harassment. I don't think polls just asking about people's sexual experiences need to be totally anathemized and blotted off the face of the earth, for example — but you know, maybe consider searching OP's blog for "asexual" and some other keywords before you reblog one?

Furthermore, maybe just don't reblog polls about "does X count as LGBTQ," even if you're in support, because you're still legitimizing the poll to begin with. Maybe proceed with caution with posts that mention polyamory, even if not in an inflammatory way, unless maybe you know that OP is polyam themselves. Maybe block, obviously don't harass, but just silently and unceremoniously block people that make a lot of clout-chasing polls about controversial queer issues.

I don't know. I don't have all the answers. I'm not an expert on catching these red flags myself — the first time I saw the polyamory poll, I ignored it just because it was irrelevant to me as a non-partnering person, not because I clocked it as something that would generate hate and threats. So really, if I do have a plea to end on — it's just to listen to people, polyam and a-spec and otherwise, when they say that some post is generating hate and threats towards them. And then, maybe, try to learn some red and orange flags from the experience.

None of us are part of every queer sub-community that Tumblr loves to harass. We all have blind spots, and that's inevitable, not a failure of you as a person. But after seeing so many of these bait polls go around, after seeing multiple rallying effects in the communities followed by people letting their guards down, and circulating a slightly different bait poll... well? I just hope that eventually, people will be willing to learn.

[mavcancees]

compilation post of commentary youtubers talking about dream, no drummyaches edition !

note, i might not exactly like 100% of the things said in these videos BUT they ultimately redeemed dream to a very large audience

starting with i think is the most viewed video right now, Will Dream's Response Actually Fix Anything? by Lessons in Meme Culture. it's 2:40 minutes long and the point is simply to open conversation about him being able to successfully redeem himself, but it has a lovely comment section if you want to scroll through that

Dream Just Responded To Everything by AugustTheDuck, had already spoken about Dream pretty positively, lovely guy, lovely summary [ touches earpiece the main studio is telling me august actually was a dream hater but turned around recently, so noting that down ]

Dream's Response was Perfect, But... by EntLaiser, who previously made a video actually speaking negatively of Dream, completely changed his opinion and talked about how meme culture is being used to justify mass harassment, along with being nice to Dream stans and defending them

Pyrocynical made a video. its bad. don't watch it. he gets cooked in the comments though so that's okay. Acheeto also made a video but i don't like the guy so i'm not linking that either, but it was a good video

Dream Finally Responded To The Allegations by sensitive soci3ty. i really like this video but i especially like the comments that bring up a lot of great points, it was refreshing scrolling through them

LIES! by Omni. Omni is really big on the commentary community so his input is valued, this video is long and goes through a lot of unrelated stuff because it's a news segment, but i linked to the timestamp he talks about Dream. it is long, it is thorough, he READS THE DESCRIPTION which i haven't seen anyone do, pretty good

Dream Might Actually Be Innocent by Saverino. this guy is like, the perfect representation of "i only consumed Dream content through social media for years", the most passive onlooker in the world. and his video is awesome, he took a lot of notes, he resumed Dream's video pretty well, and i feel the way he thinks of Dream is how people will look at dream from now on

Dream Finally Responded by Dolan Dark. it's a slob but it's fucking Dolan Dark and he says he believes he's innocent so who cares W for us

other creators we already know and knew they believed Dream, Hot Sauce Beats did a live reaction and so did Nate Alyn if you'd like to go and support them

Dream's Response Was Actually Good by Saamuel. dream hater admitting he was wrong. all is good in the world

Dream Finally Responded To The Allegations by Optimus. don't watch this video lol. he says a bunch of stupid shit, his comments call him out for it, but i am linking it because this guy is huge on the community, a lot of people were waiting on this video on twitter, and he's very clear on saying the allegations are fake, along with shaming twitter antis for their behaviour

Dream's Response Wasn't Good Enough by luhrix specifically talks about the reaction from antis on twitter to the video and how unreasonable some expectations are when it comes to responding to allegations

Does Dream's Response Make Him Innocent? by Blissolic who VERY BRAVELY calls out coyglone ( the guy behind the dreamwastalen account ) for being a piece of shit

Dream Responded... by Repzion. excellent video no notes, less about dream himself and more a critique of how people consume serious topics as "drama" and farm engagement through it

I Was In Dream's Video by orangepeanut. it's kind of ass but he is in dream's video ! he's the "dream sucked his own dick" guy. he says sorry for baiting and actually apologises to dream which is kind of funny, and he does say dream is innocent. just noting it down for reference

Dream's Response Was GREAT! by TekuToji. another excellent video, nice summary. he did thought the poki xqc dms were real but he corrected himself on the comments lol

Dream Has Returned ( and why you should be excited ) by PurpleMatter. sweet video ! go leave a nice comment :D

this is a different one as it is a full reaction, but it is by Kenji, a VERY famous vtuber, and he was awesome about it and called out his chat several times when they spoke misinformed shit. it's very fun and i'm glad a completely different audience now has a positive view of Dream

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 2 - The Future Is Now

18+ | 4.3k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | less miserable now and more typical, alcoholic, still needs reassurance Aegon | half sister reader - you're not really a maid anymore - I guess that means you got a promotion? P in V, smut, wholesome, fluff, this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

I've decided to take this story home and revisit some of the scenes from the show going forward. Because the more I looked back at them, the more I realized a lot of messed up shit happens in season 2 with Aegon that I don't personally like! Let it be known, I'm mostly using scenes from the show, but I'm also going to be mixing in a lot from the book from now on. So, it's going to come off like a weird amalgamation of show, book, and my own fiction thrown in there! So, here we're going to overhaul the small council meeting where Aemond makes a fool out of Aegon and we're going to bring it in line with something more like what they would have discussed if the show followed the battle plans from the book.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - The Future is Now Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made the above gif myself! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

-You “I find it highly unorthodox for you to keep your mistress as cupbearer, Aegon,” Alicent spoke up with clear distaste written upon her features as you filled her glass. You smile awkwardly in acknowledgment and she quickly diverts her eyes from you and onto the king. “We cannot trust one such as she with matters in need of the utmost secrecy.”

“I trust her more than I do any of you,” Aegon says nonplussed by his mother’s complaint. “I wish for her to be here and so she shall. Now back to more pressing matters.” He turned his sights towards Prince Aemond, gesturing for him to continue as he took a swig of wine from his cup. “Please continue with our efforts on the war front, Brother.”

Aemond sat perched like an owl in search of prey, one hand resting on the table while the other manipulated a golden coin effortlessly over the tops of his knuckles. The prince always held a slight smirk taut at the corners of his lips that unnerved you, holding back a viciousness that seemed barely restrained. He had his eye trained on you and it made the hair on the back of your neck prickle with discomfort. It was a relief when he met Aegon’s gaze and spoke.

“Ser Criston is marching on Rook’s Rest. The castle is small, weakly defended, and Lord Staunton sits on Rhaenyra’s council,” his words are deliberate and precisely executed as though he’d rehearsed the very words all morning in the mirror, yet you know that’s not the case.

“Whittling away at her morale seems a worthy effort indeed, “Aegon says with a devious grin. “And when Rhaenyra sends reinforcement, which she is sure to do… We’ll be lying in wait?”

You notice Lord Larys Strong’s brow raise in concern at the mention and soon the meaning washes over you as well. You quietly step towards Aegon, filling his cup and looking down at him anxiously as you try to swallow the lump that is forming in your throat. He does not return your worried stare, instead engaged deeply in the conversation with his brother, excitement written all over his face at the prospect of action.

“Precisely,” Aemond replies with cool clarity, his expression more serious now. “Cole will set the bait with his forces and Staunton will send word to Dragonstone for support. The only aid that might answer in time is a dragon and when it arrives, the trap will be sprung and we shall answer it with advantage on our side.”

“One less dragon to face later,” Aegon chuckles mirthfully, not taking the situation seriously at all. If you could, you would grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he snapped out of it and realized how dangerous this idea was.

“Surely we cannot risk losing our king on the field of battle?” Lord Strong finally speaks his dislike of the strategy out loud. “Would we not be handing the throne to our enemies?” You cannot help but feel relieved that he has voiced your fears, even if it wasn’t for your benefit.

The other members of the council all share glances with each other, neither Lannister, nor Orwyle, nor Ironrod willing to lend their thoughts. You take your place to the side of the long table, standing next to one of the newly appointed Kingsguard, regarding the scene with trepidation.

“I agree,” Alicent states with a growing look of concern. “What if you are both lost? Then who will rule?”

“You show such little confidence in our capabilities, Mother,” Aemond replies in a voice that sounds surprisingly sweet despite the venomous sarcasm that laces his words. “Surely encouragement would serve us better at this hour.”

Alicent’s eyes widen as he puts her on the spot. She quickly schools her expression, her lips flattening as she clenches her jaw briefly before speaking again. “Yes, of course, I wish you both well. But that does not change the potential losses we might suffer. Strategies do not always go as planned.”

“They do when you have dragons,” Aegon quips, still treating the war as though it were a game. You are glad to see his spirits improved since that very first time the two of you laid together, but could certainly do without the impetuousness he’s displaying at the moment.

“What if Rhaenyra sends more than one dragon?” Lord Strong poses the possibility to the king.

“It is highly unlikely,” Aemond interjects with a smug menace so intense that only the bravest of men might continue to argue. “Rhaenyra will no doubt be advised not to venture into battle herself and Daemon is presently holding down Harrenhal.”

“And no doubt she would be loathe to send another of her sons forth after what happened to the last,” the king concurs, letting out a derisive, pointed laugh. He runs his tongue along his teeth as though anticipating the taste of blood that will be spilled and relishing in it. “No other dragon yet tamed offers a significant challenge to the might of Vhagar and Sunfyre combined,” he adds, his eyes beaming with pride and superiority.

“Indeed,” Prince Aemond replies with barely curling lips, his eyes sharp as he regards his brother.

The Queen Dowager sighs, knowing she has lost this dispute and exchanges a despairing glance at Lord Strong. Your attention is drawn back to Aegon as he picks up his stone ball and places it in the large dish on the center of the table.

“We will leave when the second sun rises, then?” Aegon confirms to his brother who nods in return. It seems clear to you now that they have already spoken of this matter in private before even bringing it to the attention of the small council, and that it had already been decided upon.

The king steals a glance back towards you, nodding slightly in your direction as his eyes urge you to follow him. You eagerly oblige, anxious to have some words with him about his risky tactics in private. Aegon heads back to his chambers and you shadow him quietly as two of his Kingsguard take up the rear.

You almost can’t recognize the sweet and tender lover you’ve come to know so intimately. The sorrowful and lonely man you once comforted now replaced with a bloodthirsty warrior, a change you do not fully understand. Perhaps you are not fulfilling your duties as his companion well enough to satisfy the demons that haunt him, for he now seeks relief in brutality instead of you.

Aegon throws open the doors to his apartment and you are right behind him, closing them shut as you enter. He walks towards the table, not wasting any time in pouring a chalice of wine for himself. Bringing the cup to his lips, he takes a long swig before turning to face you.

“Alright then. Get on with it,” he says with mild annoyance. “I can already tell you are not pleased.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you say against your best judgment to quarrel with the king, but spurred by concern for him. “Any number of things might go wrong. I would prefer you stay here where it is safe in the keep. With me.”

He rolls his eyes with clear indifference to your worries, striding up to you confidently and running his knuckles softly against your cheek. “It will be fine,” he counters smoothly, his voice smooth like silk as he leans in to press a brief kiss against your lips. “We have the upper hand with two dragons, love.”

“Did you not ask me to sit in on your council meetings so that I might assist in offering you sincere and valid counsel?” you retort, hating his lackadaisical attitude towards the situation.

When he’d first requested you be his cupbearer, you had argued that you had no place in the chamber of the small council. Aegon had insisted though, stating he needed someone with a keen eye who was on his side for once. Now you wondered if he had even meant those words.

“Yes, but this is a matter of war, not court nor politics,” he replied with a scoff, turning and walking towards the center of the large room. “And you are just letting your womanly heart lead you.”

“Womanly heart?” you repeat, feeling your shoulders tighten at his cruel implication. “Or perhaps you must accept that war is not a child’s game,” your voice runs cold as anger grips you. “That a king has a responsibility to his people and not just to his own sense of glory.”

Aegon turns with a chuckle, regarding you snidely. This condescension actually bothers you more than the fury you expected from him. “Tis not glory I seek, but the alleviation of my boredom,” he says plainly and there’s an apathy in his voice that makes your chest ache.

“Am I not enough to keep you engaged?” you ask quietly, feeling your wrath fade into pain.

The king’s smile falters, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as you speak. He hesitates a moment before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “Love…” he murmurs, sounding a bit repentant now. “It has nothing to do with you. I simply feel… constrained in this city. While everyone else fights to retain my crown, I am expected to stay here and be idle. I wish to prove myself.”

He closes the distance between you both, his violet eyes piercing into yours. Aegon reaches out to cradle your face, his touch gentle and his demeanor much warmer now. “I know that you worry for me,” he says, his voice tender as he rests his forehead against yours. “But I cannot lead my army from behind these castle walls. I trust you understand?”

“You didn’t have to be so cruel,” your voice is a whisper as you try to hold back the desire to cry. “Treating me as though I matter not to you.”

Aegon tugs you closer towards him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. He lets out another weary exhale, seemingly releasing all of the tension that had held him taut moments prior. “I didn’t mean to be a bastard to you, my darling,” he says, voice heavy with remorse.

“You are not my enemy,” he adds, leaning back slightly to kiss your golden crown of hair. “There are whispers afoot within the Red Keep, they abound in the city as well. The people all speak of my cowardice. How I have usurped the throne and now hide in my castle, afraid to face the might of the true heir’s forces. I find myself on edge.”

“You might have told me this sooner,” you reply, shifting your head to peer up at him. “I am here for you, my king, and you alone. If you cannot confess such tensions to me, than they will only serve to devour you whole. I am not here to judge, but to listen, to offer support.”

“Such habits are not easy to break,” Aegon says with a flicker of shame adorning his features. “I have been ridiculed my entire life and it has made me averse to showing weakness.”

“But you revealed yourself to me and it brought us together,” you argue his absurd logic. “Do not hide from me. Ever.” Your hands slide across his chest, moving upwards until your fingers dance delicately across the line of his jaw.

Aegon lets out a shaky breath, his body easing under your gentle touch. “What is it about you, love?” he asks closing his eyes as your hand rakes back into his hair. “You always manage to disarm me so completely, breaking down the fortress I’ve spent a lifetime erecting.”

He opens his eyes and smiles at you with amusement. “Very well then. I will not distance myself from you, or at least I shall try not to. But I still intend to join Aemond and fight. Can you stand to watch me go?”

Your grip tightens slightly in his hair at the mention of the battle. You had hoped you could sway him to stay, but it is clear now that he will not listen. The king was dead set on clearing his name, on making his constituents believe that he truly deserved his seat on the Iron Throne.

“You must promise me that you will be careful,” you plead with him, knowing deep down that such a request was impossible to accommodate in war. “Do not take any unnecessary risks.”

“That shouldn’t be hard to accomplish from the back of a dragon, my darling,” Aegon lets out a small laugh, resting his hands on your hips. “But I will do my best and I have no intention of dying at Rook’s Rest.”

You lean up to kiss him once more as your hands wrap around his back, clinging fiercely. His lips are hot and wet and so alive with passion as he hungrily returns the embrace. You cannot help the gnawing feeling beginning to coalesce in your gut, that something horrible is going to happen to him. Each press of your lips against his echoing your desperation and the fear that he might not return to you.

He walks you back to the table and plucks you up, placing your bottom on the hard surface. His hands work at bunching up your skirts, lifting and pushing them aside so he has access to you. His hands slide up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistline of your smallclothes and pulling them down. He doesn’t waste any time in spreading your thighs apart with his knee, stepping closer until you can feel just how much he wants you.

“I’ll return to you, love,” he says breathlessly between kisses against your jaw. Aegon urgently unties his breeches as he continues, “Nothing could keep me from you.”

His lips crash into yours, devouring your mouth with intensity as he grinds against you, making you weak in your desire for him. Withdrawing from your mouth, he peppers kisses down your neck, and along your décolletage before letting out a gasping groan of lust.

Pulling you to the edge of the table, his purple eyes appear black with arousal as they lock onto yours. He slides into your wet slickness in one fluid motion, filling you completely. Aegon leans forward again, his face buried in your neck as he grasps onto your hips and moves into you with a desperate frenzy.

His lips nibble against your lobe as he whispers raggedly in your ear, “You will be waiting for me when I return, won’t you?” his words almost sounding insecure. “Tell me you love me. Tell me you need me. I must hear you say it.”

You are powerless to your king’s wishes, especially when he is fucking you so well. “I love you,” you say panting as his throbbing cock invades your wanting cunny. “I need you.”

Aegon groans loudly at the sound of your voice, the table quaking as he increases his pace, his hips snapping forward and driving into you harder, deeper. He is relentless in his efforts, pounding into your core with an urgency you’ve never experienced before. “Say it again,” he demands, his breaths short and heavy. “Again…” he growls as he buries himself within you, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you steady.

It is hard to concentrate, let alone ponder the king’s strange choice of dirty talk, but Aegon’s vulnerability has always drawn you to him. It seemed mixing physical and emotional release at the same time was becoming quite commonplace for you both and you could not deny how therapeutic it felt for you either, to give of yourself and receive his devotion in return. Even if you had not been together for very long, you were sure that your attraction to Aegon was not simply fueled by sexual pleasure alone.

“I love you, Aegon,” you repeat, breathless and gasping as he chases his high within you.

He moans your name, a pained sound as he leans back and takes in your expression. “Make me believe it,” he pleads, pressing wet kisses against your face as he punctuates each spoken word with a particularly hard thrust.

“Gods, Aegon!” you cry out, feeling your peak near as his pelvis rolls mercilessly against your pearl. Each deep invasion paired with a ruthless grinding motion that makes your toes curl. “I-I do…” you confess with shaky breaths. “I have since I came into your service.”

“You what? I need to hear you say it,” he prompts you yet again, searching always for reassurance in you. “Let me taste the truth in your words,” his voice is ragged as he beseeches you.

Your hands that had been braced on the edge of the table, now find his hips and grasp firmly. The motion of your bodies like waves on the ocean, and it is not long before the familiar feeling of completion spreads through your inner walls. He immediately devours your lips in a desperate kiss. It’s tender and passionate at the same time, making you forget every rational thought or worry that you had.

Against his lips you reaffirm your adoration, your voice rough as you speak your convictions, “I love you, Aegon… Only you make me feel whole.”

A grunt breaks from the back of Aegon’s throat as he buries himself completely inside you, prodding against the tender entrance to your womb. His length swells as he spills his seed within you, his body twitching as he moves to wrap his arms around you.

Aegon collapses against you for a time, capturing his breath as you leave hungry kisses all along his neck and shoulder. You make a startled sound of shock when he suddenly pulls you off the table. His hands slip under your bottom, urging your thighs around his waist and you cling to him dearly making sure you don’t fall.

He holds you tightly in his arms and moves to the large velvet couch against the wall, flopping down on it and pulling you into his lap. Aegon cups his hand behind your head, pulling you close until he is all you can see, his violet eyes fixed on you.

“I don’t believe I’ve said it as much as I should,” his voice is low and quiet. “But I love you as well.”

Your expression softens from one of lusty playfulness to something more sincere at his heartfelt words. It was true, he hadn’t often, if ever, acknowledged his direct feelings towards you, but you’d still known that he cared. It was plain to see that needed you, even if he didn’t always admit it.

“I will come back to you, I swear it…” he says with a knowing smirk, reading the affection in your tender eyes. “And when I do, I intend to you make you mine forever.”

“How?” you ask quirking a brow in confusion, the haze of your orgasm still lingering.

“By wedding you, of course,” Aegon replies, as though it is the most obvious answer in the world. “I will take you as my second wife. There is no rule that states I cannot. Besides, it might be seen as disrespectful to my namesake if I did not follow in his footsteps.” His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he regards you with a dreamy look, as though imagining a future where you are his wife.

“Do you think it prudent to cause an uproar with such a controversy?” you say with a look of worry deepening your brow. “With the civil war? With the food shortages? As you said, there are already whispers among the people. Should we give them more to talk about?”

Aegon releases a heavy sigh, a look of displeasure crossing his face as his jaw clenches. You continue before he can get too upset.

“I am overjoyed that you’d have me as your wife, my love.. But I am also concerned. Perhaps we could have a private ceremony? Keep it secret until the war has passed?” You run you fingers gently from his forehead down his temple until your palm is resting on his cheek.

“Why should I keep you a secret!?” he asks petulantly. “My wife, Queen Helaena, sits in her rooms all day, crying and speaking to herself. I cannot blame her for the pain she has suffered, sadly, she was quite fragile to begin with… But as it stands, she is no queen. The people could do with a figurehead, someone to follow, to reassure them that everything is alright in these trying and uncertain times. I have never been adept at such persuasions, but you… You would be wonderful in that role. It is how a queen should behave.”

You shake your head and let out an exasperated breath. “Be that as it may. You seem to forget that I am not a noble. The people will not accept it.”

“And you forget that I am king,” Aegon replies with a shrug. “In fact, I will fix this issue before I leave for Rook’s Rest.�� He gently places you to his side, setting you onto the plush cushions. You watch dumbfound as Aegon gets up from the couch and ties the laces of his breeches absentmindedly as he crosses the room to his desk. He takes out a piece of paper, a quill, some ink, and begins to write.

“What are you doing?” you ask with furled brows as you make your way over to him, impossibly curious to know what he is up to.

“I’m writing a decree,” he says, not looking up from his parchment. “It is not unheard of for nobles to petition the king to legitimize their offspring. Given you are my father’s daughter, that would elevate you to a Targaryen princess, with all the rights and privileges the title entails.” Aegon finished writing and signed the paper with a flourish. As he blew on the ink, impatient for it to dry, he added, “I think a princess would be considered more than suitable for a king, don’t you?”

You are dumbstruck at the precise and confident way he asserts such a complicated matter as concluded. “Is such a thing possible? Truly?”

“It’s as good as done,” Aegon says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is likely for the best that I take care of the issue before I leave for battle. I would not wish for my mother to think she had any say when it comes to your well being in my absence.

He examines the parchment, making sure that the ink has set and then carefully folds it. You watch as he melts a chunk of red wax and presses his seal into it, sealing the decree and placing it aside on his desk.

“There, the matter is resolved,” he says with a satisfied smile as he pulls you down into his lap. “Now what are you going to do while I’m away?” he asks softly. “Without your king to serve?”

“You might still change your mind and stay here with me so that I do not wither away from loneliness,” you riposte with a slight puff in your cheeks as your lips purse.

The king lets out a laugh, shaking raising a finger to your mouth to shush you. “You are incorrigible,” he purrs fondly, placing a kiss upon your pouting lips. “You know I must go, love. I need to prove it to Mother, to the council, to the people… Hells, even to myself that I am worthy of the crown.” He looks at you earnestly, his eyes searching yours as though trying to convince himself that he’s right in this. “But, I will miss you terribly. More than you could possibly know.”

“What will I even do without you?” Leaning in you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, letting your nose nuzzle against his skin. You sit back in his lap more, fixing his hair by tucking it behind his ears dotingly. “Everyone treats me even more coldly now that we are together so openly. They all turn their backs to me as though I’m invisible,” you say sadly. Even though he is not due to leave for another day and night, you feel as though you miss him already.

Aegon’s arms tighten around you possessively, his hand caressing your back. “When you are queen they won’t dare turn their backs to you,” his voice was low and gravelly. “They will bow and scrape at your feet , and if they don’t…” he trails off, leaving the threat hanging the air.

“Ah yes,” you say with a morose chuckle. “There is nothing more civil then the threat of a noose.”

He laughs wholeheartedly at your jest, his eyes beaming with affection. “You worry too much,” he says with a warmth written in his expression. “There is only one matter left unresolved as far as I’m concerned.” Aegon looked you over with an almost stern gaze, sizing you up.

“And what is that, my love?” you ask with a curious glint in your eye.

“You haven’t said yes yet,” he says with a smooth grin, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “Will you be my wife?”

You gaze into his eyes, a happiness building in your chest as you realize the levity of this moment. You’re not sure if it’s the right choice to make in terms of harming his reign as king, but deep down you know there is only one answer you could ever give him.

“Yes,” you reply with a humble smile, your eyes threatening tears as you lean in and taste the lips of your lover, your future husband if the Gods so willed it.

Read Chapter 3

[kelvintimeline]

I'm actually, uh, kind of concerned for the lack of empathy people have when sharing news via meme. The "officer down" stuff or using the destiel meme format being used during the election all was kosher because the news was, in fact, meant to make you laugh. Whether it was made to punch up at cops or the queen or just celebrate how fucking crazy a cultural moment was, those formats were used to response to and to create levity.

These formats were not made to spread tangible information. Part of what made them so good is that they cannot provide proper context, so you just get a burst of SURPRISE and then you're left wondering wait HUH?? Just a burst of elation.

So, to be clear, these memes are used to in some way make fun of how ridiculous the moment is or demonstrate how little we care about the person/thing being reported on.

These formats are NOT meant to spread awareness of things like Neil Gaiman sexual assaulting (at least) five women. Or about fucking genocide.

And I am deeply concerned that people don't realize that?

Because, again, to put it simply for people who are really struggling with this BASIC form of consideration for other human beings, a. this meme is TO MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH which is not appropriate for serious topics and b. this meme is to spread as little information as possible, turning the news into a sort of surprise gut punch or almost a funny jump scare.

News that requires context and empathy, or at least feigned consideration, cannot be shared via meme.

"TRUMP GOT SHOT!" meme. funny gut punch--we hate that guy, we don't really need more information but anyone that wants to... will easily find it. It's an extremely disrespectful to break the news. That's the point.

The memes are reblog-bait, not respectful, not informational. Why does this need to be said?

"Oh but people wouldn't get the news otherwise." This isn't true but even if it were true... they aren't getting the news with fucking memes either?? It's like skimming a headline. It's like a stranger walking past you and shouting a skimmed headline and just saying "Trust me, I know my shit." It's net negative information, even when it's technically correct. It's news illiteracy.

[crimsonxe]

Because I'm particularly annoyed: To everyone within the LGBT+ and ships involving them circles, get this through your goddamn head. RWBY the "little" anime-inspired web show that:

subverts sexist and homophobic tropes from that inspiration

has a deep & mature story

respects its femme characters

that has had morons saying it was baiting for years

has a married wlw couple w/ child; 2 confirmed lesbian characters; 2 mlm characters in the novels; a bi MC (VA'd by a bi femme)/a sapphic MC (VA'd by an "on the spectrum" femme)/ and together a wlw MC pair; a trans character that isn't a joke

THAT show DELIVERED one of the most normalized via being treated no different to its hetero sibling ships, being within a non-world of gay, and not being spotlighted; well-developed; well-earned; 10 year steady slowburned; and mature CANON wlw romances around. That including having a bi character that feels bi not a lesbian character w/ a bi sticker slapped on cause not only does she have guys w/ feelings towards her as well as a former male romantic partner, but also has a femme w/ feelings towards her as well as a current femme partner in a non-world of gay. The fucking cherry on top: it has Beauty and the Beast at its core mixed with yin-yang.

Get the fuck over this notion of "oh that's just RWBY" in a head-up-ones-own-ass obnoxious manner. Before it was the goddamn "well BB isn't confirmed, its just been hinted/teased" even with the show making it fucking blatantly clear it was happening, including soft-canonizing it via a character directly bringing up the mutual romantic feelings going on between the two tying it to her own ones towards the other part of the sibling hetero pair of the show. Now after its been given one of the best most beautifully done scenes in the entire show w/ a goddamn song written by an LGBT+ artist and sung by both them & another LGBT+ femme to canonize them; its STILL being treated/view like its both bait/non-canon and/or lesser than other pairs. Its especially fucking rich when I know some people who'd sing the praises of Warrior Nun and Avatrice, which is in the same goddamn vein as RWBY and BB with both being great ships and shows. If anyone tried to pull this shit with that show & that pairing, you'd get your damn ass torn apart and you know it; but RWBY isn't given that same respect. Caitvi/Violyn (Arcane) gets more damn respect and technically speaking its not even fucking canon yet, its still in the phase that either v4-7 BB was at. Where its been heavily implied & teased to the point of me going with it as soft-canon, yet not a damn soul would scoff at it being mentioned within LGBT+ ships. But once again RWBY is different.

Those that pull this shit are:

the shit-for-brains know-nothings that either want to shit on the show because of their own hoity-toity its too below us bullshit or haven't bothered to actually watch the damn show

the bigoted incel pieces of shit that just don't support LGBT+ yet infest our spaces;

the antis that don't care what was built up, they're salty bitches that just can't stand their pair didn't happen

the entitled ass LGBT+ that think all LGBT+ should be rushed, spotlighted at the center of the story, and aimed at an LGBT+ audience instead of normalized for a general audience.

So if you're going to thumb your nose at the show and its rep, then fuck you and go fuck your damn self. You're no damn better than the incels and chuds. And don't even think to reach for any LGBT+ cards cause I've got my own one. They're canon and they're great get that through your fucking heads, that little web show fucking delivered. Don't like it? Fine, I don't really care. But don't you fucking dare thumb your damn nose at it and not expect to get dragged over the damn coals by me.

[genericpuff]

Idk if my addition will matter.

I've been following Hanza since back when they were making my deepest secret, so I've seen the development of the guy upstairs first hand and how hanza writes it. Even back in the concept stages, it was so blatantly clear that it was supposed to be a thriller/cat mouse vibe where Adam (killer) was horrible and not to be rooted for. They've compared him to irl serial killers and how those guys will often use women as shields to hide their true selves from the public and how that's messed up and bad to do.

They've shown Adam as a horrible irredeemable person and honestly there's little to no nuance with how they handle it, but that makes sense because how else can you handle an audience like what they've gotten without beating them over the head with the facts. How many ways can you outright show your main character despising and wanting to yank their best friend out of the jaws of a murderer before the audience realizes its not foreplay.

I think them going from an actual romance to a fully thriller non romantic story meant that the residual audience expected some kind of messy toxic romance, but Rozy to me has always explicitly read as Queer so idk why people aren't getting the hint.

I get their frustration and it seems like they might be shifting into a potiential issekai romance about a grandad and a middle aged woman who got reincarnated as his grandson's fiance (hard to explain but its hilarious if you want to check it out) without any thriller elements from their recent non comic posts. Whatever they do I hope they can find something to be passionate about again.

your addition VERY MUCH MATTERS actually because I don't read TGU and have very little context to the situation as a whole aside from what I've seen people talking about, which makes me reluctant to speak on it because I don't wanna go spreading misinformation in any regard. So I appreciate you taking the time to lay it all out for me, thank you!!! <3

And yeah, I've seen posts shared in the /r/webtoons sub from other blogs claiming that Hanza was being an awful person for "taking people's money" and "baiting them" into reading a dark romance story when that's very obviously not what it is? Even one excerpt that was literally like-

And I just... since when is any romance plotline that ISN'T abusive and problematic at its core (such as between a serial killer and a victim) considered "super conservative" and "pure"? It's really baffling to me how people have gone so far in the opposite direction of "purity culture" that they've started arguing on behalf of legitimately harmful and toxic relationships. It's extremely concerning especially when you know the majority of people saying this shit are between the ages of 16-21. IDK what the fuck we're doing anymore when it comes to the romance genre (and TGU isn't even a romance ffs).

Aaaand yeah in relation to where the Hanza topic came up, that's really why I'm moving away from WT as an audience and why I don't consider it a "loss" to not use WT anymore. Once upon a time I wished for Time Gate to be a contracted series, for it to have thousands of readers and be my job. But seeing what's going on with Hanza's work just informs me that I'd be dealing with a lot of the same shit - people expecting Uzuki and Mitsuhiro to be the endgame of the romance when they're literally NOT good for each other, which is the POINT. Like sure, unlike the main duo in TGU, they actually are a couple with a 'relationship' but it's not meant to be healthy and the last thing I need are 15 year olds thinking they're "couple goals". If you ship them in fanfic or w/e the fuck that's fine but please don't get mad at me when they don't wind up being the endgame couple, they're both terrible people and make each other worse when they're around each other (・_・;)

Either way yeah, I don't blame Hanza in the slightest for getting so frustrated with it all that they'd rather just be done with it. It sucks for the more loyal and sane part of their audience that the series is gonna be ripped out from under them like that, but at the end of the day if the creator is being harassed and decide they're done as a result of it... why should they have to keep putting up with bullshit just for a comic? I don't even blame Rachel if she was ending LO by choice due to the noise of the fandom, and unlike Rachel, I don't have anything in the slightest against Hanza or their work LOL But I also don't have the full picture on it all so maybe my opinion will change if I find out more about it. I just don't think any of this shit is worth directly harassing a human being over.

That said, can't get any better than someone who's read their work since before TGU, so again, thank you !

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

About the whole "Fyodor-switch personality" thing: We don't have enough information to confirm whether it was real or fake right now, and besides, both possibilities are really interesting.

If the switch was real and Fyodor was lying to cover it up (...because 'you know characters can lie, right' could mean... this part of it was the lie too...), that could easily be made a reference to Dostoevsky's The Double, as I was kindly made aware of. We've also already had an image of a young woman who looks like Aya from potentially a long time ago, given the outfit and that it is Bram's memory we're presumably seeing there, which may tie in interestingly with "what year is it?" The knife he pulled out also is genuinely a unique design for the series, and looks like it might be an old make. If this original is very old, then something in the takeover of personalities may explain why he hasn't seemed to age. Fyodor being a separate personality created from his ability and kicking out the original could tie in with his ability not attacking him in Dead Apple. This also raises more questions about Fyodor's motives, and I think opens the path for some pretty fascinating theory making. It also places Fyodor as something both human and not... intriguing for the ongoing theme of humanity in the series.

If the switch was a fake and Fyodor was being a completely hilarious little shit (which, we know the Joker is part of his inspiration and he is often contrasted with Dazai, Nikolai, and Mori, for whom this kind of behaviour would be expected - it's characterization, that's not 'done for no reason'), it would quite possibly be the funniest thing he's done in the series so far. But! More importantly, it strengthens Fyodor's connection with the Book (or rather, with altering the narrative). He's told a lie that sounds completely ridiculous but makes sense given the world and situation he's in - and notably, could fool Sigma... and the readers. Fyodor also managed to change the lightness of his eyes without changing the state of his soul - something that no other character seems to be able to do. (I know Dazai can feign the shocked expression, but that's not the clear lightness we saw in Fyodor's eyes in this panel. Nikolai's eyes change lightness but that actually seems to be genuine.) While this doesn't help us discern anything more about Fyodor's motives, it does emphasize his expertise at information manipulation - we cannot trust a single thing this character says, not just in universe, but out of it too. We, the readers, cannot listen to Fyodor and take anything he says as supporting evidence for theories. If this is true - that's fascinating. The other characters will have to solve the mystery of this man completely indirectly, and so will we.

Of course, there is the secret third option: it was a lie mostly, but there is an element of truth to it somewhere, which is actually par for the course for BSD as a whole. It is very rare that a character turns out to be lying completely. The question then becomes "what part is true and how much is it true", which is also very compelling. This, personally, is what I'm ascribing to for now until new info comes up.

Anyways, the last thing I wanted to point out is that if it was genuine, then remember The Double was inspired by Hohol's works, and if it was a lie, then that is very similar to the bait-and-switch performances that Nikolai has done multiple times in the series. Either way, it implies some influence on Fyodor by Nikolai and of course vice versa, which probably means the return of the clown (finally!) and more focus on their dynamic, which is a funny thing to show Nikolai having apparently had influence on Fyodor (even if in more of a meta way) as he is actively trying to kill him right now.

Love wins/loses?

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 13 - Surprise Sunday (Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”)

TW/CW: Team whump, spy whump, recapture, kidnapping, knife whump, knife to throat, manipulative bastard whumper, cheerful whumper, arrogant too, scared whumpee, forced to kneel, forced to beg Word count: 1'094

Usually they didn't cover such offensive missions. They were more trained for undercover and spy work. Yet when their team was a teammate down Whumpee didn't hesitate to agree to the mission. Now they were parcouring over the roofs of the city and camped behind chimnees, always on the lookout for their target. So far it was going smoothly, unnervingly smoothly to be precise. There hadn't even been a sign of their target yet even though they had recieved very clear intel that they would be here, perfect to be engaged. Whumpees usually so perfect focus wasn't so perfect tonight, not anymore. The un-explainable tension in the air made them itchy and the scar across their palm hurt. Tucked behind the wall of a flat roof they rubbed over it, their emotions momentarily taking over and that's when they heard the sound. A strangled yelp. Ice shot across their entire spine as they pulled out their knife and spun around.

Then nearly dropped their knife. They were staring into the grinning face of Whumper. Holding a blade to their teammates neck.

Whumpee dared to exchange one look with their teammate, all as frozen up as they were even if significantly less terrified. Shit, shit, shit!! Whumper hadn't even been their target tonight!

"Teamname, how delightful to see all of you this lovely night. I have been itching for a rematch after our last interaction. Now just on who had you been so focused on that you let your guard down, hm? Anybody?", they asked near cheerfully. Murderous bloodlust just barely hidden underneath the surface. They started to look from person to person, expecting an answer.

"Go to hell! And let Teammate go, you son of a bitch.", Leared roared, even with their volume composed.

Whumper tutted. "Naww, that's really no way to talk to the person holding the adventage in this situation, is it?" They pressed the blade deeper against Teammates neck, the skin underneath already reddened. Whumper's gaze wandered again from Teammate to teammate. Excruciatingly slowly.

Please don't look at me, please don't look at me, please don't look at me! Whumpee was experiencing the beginning of a panic attack most likely. Every nerve in their body screamed at them to RUN. Fast and away as soon as possible. They couldn't-they couldn't. But the sight of the knife being pressed harder against Medic-Teammates throat kept them from attempting to flee. They couldn't leave their friend with that monster. So they stayed, standing and shaking as Whumpers gaze finally found them. Whumpee could see how their eyes went wide in surprise and then narrowed again in sadistic glee.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here. What happened to you little stray kitty. Did you change carreer paths after our time together?", each of their words was laced with malice.

Whumpee flinched heavily at the nickname but tried to fight their words off. Tried to act like it didn't bother them at all. Trying to convince themselves. "Let Medic go, now, and nobody needs to get hurt."

Whumper smiled predatory "Oh but where's the fun in that? Come on, kitty, you know that I quite enjoy it when somebody get's hurt. Don't you? Or have you forgotten our time together?", they ask innocently while simultenously nicking Teammates neck. A drop of blood dribbling down from the blade.

Leader made a heated step towards Whumper but that one simply sent him a warning glare and movement of the blade. "Easy tiger, woulnd't want to lose yet another teammate, right? Besides I'm holding a conversation. Its awfully rude, really." They shifted their gaze back to Whumpee.

Whumpee could also feel the gaze of Leader and their temporary teammates way on them, and they squirmed uncomfortably in their stance. "Let Medic go.", they repeated.

"No."

"Yes."

Whumper laughed. "Why should I?", they asked arrogantly.

Whumpee stared at Whumper. Hopeless. They had no advantage and Whumper would have absolutely no problem killing Medic and the rest of their team. They had no choice, they pressed their eyes closed before looking back at their old torturer. "Take me instead."

The other teammates sucked in a breath in unison. Murmured protests raising.

"Well this is interesting. You would return to me by choice?", they pressed on mockingly.

"Y-yes.", Whumpee confirmed, cursing the shake in their voice. "If you let Medic go right now without causing them or the team any further harm of any kind."

"My, my, little kitty. I admire your cleverness yet...Who exactly told you that you could simply..demand things from me in such a manner? I'm sure you can feel how wrong that is too."

Whumpee paled, their knees buckling worse than before but they tried to hold their ground. "That doesn't matter now. Do we have a deal or not?"

Whumper's hole demeanor shifted to a much more serious one."Oh it very much does matter. See I might consider letting your little friend here live and run but not if you pathetic. little. wet cat. think you can demand things of me." "So, if..you can convince me to take you-damaged goods instead I will consider it."

Whumpee held eye contract with their opponent for as long as they could but then their gaze fell to the floor. With their weak legs it wasn't hard for them to fall to their knees. The gravel digging into their skin. They dropped their head too, having more trouble grinding their newfound and hard-eared defiance into the dirt for what they needed to do. "Please. Whumper, I'm begging you. Let the team go unharmed and take me instead. Please."

Whumper suddenly moved towards the kneeling figure, dragging the trapped Medic with them. When they were in front of Whumpee they purposely kicked dirt and gravel into their face. They flinched but didn't budge. "Very well then.", Whumper decided cheerfully and in the blink of an eye the knife had changed necks.

Whumpee whimpered at the faimilar cold bite of the blade on their throat. They couldn't feel the relief about Medic's safety over their own terror.

"Now then, we shall be taking our leave now. Pleasure doing buisness with you." They nodded politely. "Leader." Before dissapearing fast as they came with the kidnapped Whumpee. They would have fun driving that defiance out of them again.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt

@shattermind-8

[kiisaes]

tell us about vld 👁️

(only if u want to)

i'll spare you a truly unhinged ranting for perhaps another time (even though this is gonna be long anyway) but tldr: vld is a show that could have been really good if it just stuck to its direction from the first two seasons!!! and also if its crew didn't accidentally breed the worst possible fandom ever!!!

it had a really good identity at the start— its characters were entertaining, its art and animation were charming if anything, the VAs were genuinely excellent picks and in terms of story it was simple (considering it's a kids show) but effective. the first two seasons focused on one-off, character-driven episodes that gave room for a lot of character writing, team bonding, and tone establishment. i believe that the reason why vld shipping was already so aggressive since s1 — without crew interference — was because the character writing was like, actually good. good enough where people could take their starting characterizations + team dynamic and run wild with it

vld was never going to be an enlightening, mature, groundbreaking show about anything super deep; it's a Y7 show about robot lions in space. but i'm sure most ppl going into vld didn't expect a piece of art, they just wanted to have fun with an atla-adjacent show, or they watched previous voltron iterations. and for what it was, it was very successful at the start! and one of the more popular netflix originals at its time!

but then vld tried taking itself more seriously in s3, and changed its primary storytelling method. now the episodes weren't usually problem-of-the-week, but each episode's plot had to feed into the next episode in line. which would've been fine, if the crew planned ahead and kept track of its characters and plot

but since the lion switch was also conveniently during this season (which inevitably implied switches in character arcs), keeping track of everything suddenly got way harder. also, the lion switch was ass. breaking my silence: that shit made no sense. why didn't they make allura the black paladin??? why do all those mental gymnastics with moving keith from red to black and lance from blue to red just to give allura blue, which was a lion that didn't even really fit her??? (i know the reason was cuz dotf did this lion placement, but is vld dotf? are the characters archetypes the same? no? i didn't think so!!!)

anyway because of the new serialized storytelling format, vld had to follow this really serious, high-stakes, even occasionally dark narrative to keep viewers engaged, and it just .. wasn't the same? like not only are characters' arcs dropping like flies, we're introducing new characters with barely any development or even personality, and it's not even that fun to watch anymore. what happened to my silly guys. what happened to goofin off in the castle. what happened to episode-long missions. this is not avatar. if i wanted to watch avatar i would just watch avatar.

and! in later seasons i think the crew caught on to how fans loveddd the episodic narratives in s1 and 2, so they tried bringing back one-off lighthearted episodes (dnd episode, game show episode, clear day episode, etc.) in an attempt to relive the old glory— and they were fun to watch on their own, sure, but were completely detached from the rest of the story atp. literally the only reason why i even remember these episodes is because they weren't a part of the narrative's incomprehensible sludge

don't even get me started on how the crew hated its audience. don't get me started on the ship bait, the weird canon queerbait situation(s), the irresponsible encouragement of parasocial fan relationships with VAs, artists, creators, you name it. it's how we got one of The worst fandoms in recent history. it's how vld was one of the newer fandoms that started an whole new era of fandom etiquette — namely, disregarding all previous fandom norms in favor of the most childish, pearl-clutching, moral-panicky discourse you'd find daily, and consequently you wouldn't EVER dare bring up to a normal person who exists in the real world.

the crew hated its audience so much, it essentially punished its fans by shutting down all fan theories, purposefully writing AROUND plot twists THEY SET UP, leaving a really messy and plot-hole-filled final script. they especially hated the shippers so much that they shut down BOTH main camps — klance and sheith — for canon allurance, a truly horrible way to end both their character arcs since neither character gets all that satisfying of a conclusion (lance becomes a farmer, allura fucking dies)

this is already long enough but i hope this gives you a general idea :') i have so many emotions about vld. someday i'll make the retrospective video essay of my dreams. this was my nonstop fixation for two straight years. i wasted two years on this shit.

also this show's 8 seasons were released all in a span of 2 and a half years.

[firestorm09890]

FUCK what I said about the majority of significant changes to dialogue in Re:CoM being to adjust Axel's characterization, the most egregious change is actually this

(GBA CoM)

(Re:CoM)

if I had to guess, the reason for this change was because in GBA CoM, The Superior was a spooky, unknown being at the head of this Organization we had very little knowledge on, and for Vexen, the guy who runs his mouth constantly about how much better he is than the others, to be terrified of him, he must be some pretty scary dude. But then after kh2 we know him, it's Xemnas, he's very dramatic, he likes to talk to the moon, and the effect of your mind filling in the gaps about what "The Superior" must be like is gone. So it wasn't really necessary anymore, right?

(rest under cut because it's long)

Except... the way they changed it is so weird. In the GBA version, what's happening is pretty clear:

Marluxia tells Vexen that his project is a failure

Vexen demonstrates that he does not give a shit about Marluxia's opinion

he does care very much about The Superior's opinion, though, and Marluxia uses this to blackmail him into eliminating Sora- an action which is nonsensical, as the entire point of what they're doing needs Sora alive, making it clear to everyone in the room that he is deliberately sending Vexen to die

and then after that, when Vexen shows up to fight Sora, he goes "if you want to fight me for real you've gotta do it in the memories from the other side of your heart lol bye" and Sora goes "huh? other side?" and then it cuts to a scene on the top floor:

and then this gets more into subtext but here, Vexen has realized he's totally fucked and his only hope is to mess directly with Marluxia's plans (well, they were the Organization's plans, but it's pretty obvious by now Marluxia's abusing his power for his own purposes) by giving Sora more information than he should know. This does get the traitor gang worried enough to send Axel to go kill him (as opposed to just letting Sora take care of him, which was presumably the original plan)- he very specifically cuts Vexen off to keep him from saying too much (this is retained between the original and the remake)

Anyway, what happens in Re:CoM sort of follows the same order of events, but everything is changed slightly in a way that just makes things more confusing.

Marluxia tells Vexen his project is a failure and Vexen demonstrates that he doesn't give a shit about Marluxia's opinion, as before

Marluxia threatens Vexen with a weapon, rather than threatening to tell the Superior

this, notably, does not seem to faze Vexen very much. he continues to run his mouth while having the scythe pointed at him.

Xemnas is still leveraged- Marluxia points out it was the Superior who entrusted him with the castle

...even though reasonably Vexen would already be aware of this, and has still demonstrated that he has zero respect for Marluxia despite it

the lines about betraying the Organization being a capital crime are retained, probably because it's super relevant later, but then that line of thinking is abandoned in favor of Marluxia and Larxene just taunting Vexen instead

The part where Marluxia says "do it. you won't" could be seen as a sort of threat... if not for Axel's line: "You give a challenge like that to Vexen and he'll seriously want to eliminate Sora." It frames it all as though Vexen went to fight Sora out of some sort of pride.

And look, Vexen may have a temper and a superiority complex, but he's not stupid. They're obviously baiting him. Plus, what happened to him seeing himself as above the others and countering things he doesn't like with "well actually I'm higher ranked than you and also you're an idiot"? Is he that insecure in his fighting capabilities? I could deal with characterization changes doing him dirty if it didn't also make no sense in the context of the plot.

So now we have Vexen going to try to kill Sora, something that really makes no sense to do, out of pride. What was the purpose of sending Sora to Twilight Town? Also pride, over the fact that he managed to get that information? Giving the writing the benefit of the doubt, I could say that these nonsensical actions can be explained as evidence that Nobodies can have hearts and people with hearts do strange and rash things, but that just feels like a reach, which is bad because what they had in GBA CoM worked perfectly fine and made sense without any reaching for the "idk emotions make you do strange things" explanation.

It continues. After Vexen gives Sora the Twilight Town card in Re:CoM and Sora wonders about what the "other side" means, this is that version of the conversation the top floor members have:

...what? "If Sora disappears, that would mess up the Organization's plans"? what are you worried about? the only reason Sora would disappear is if Vexen killed him. there's no way they think Vexen being in Twilight Town would give him an advantage, right? they know he's a pathetic fighter. "Vexen has clearly committed a treasonous act against the Organization" HOW? HOW IS IT CLEAR? they don't express any worry about Sora learning too much, up until Axel says "I came to stop you from talking too much" when killing Vexen- and that being there makes it seem like they were worried about Sora learning to much, but if that's the case, why would they replace the perfectly serviceable lines in the above scene? it's just... baffling that they would want to lean into the narrative that Vexen going to kill Sora (which he'd been goaded into doing) is the problem here, because it just makes so little sense compared to what it was originally.

once again giving them the benefit of the doubt: Marluxia's real plan was to take over the Organization, and he saw an easy way to pick off one of the members, so he took it. the motive for stopping Vexen doesn't actually matter.

buuuuut it's the same as with Vexen earlier. Marluxia may be too self-absorbed and power-hungry to notice Axel is scheming against him, but he, too, is an intelligent man. he's plotted for a while, getting into Xemnas's good graces in order to be put in charge of the Castle. this is incredibly sloppy for him. I guess it could be said that getting so close to his goal would make him sloppy, but again, if they'd just left things the way they were in GBA CoM, I wouldn't even have to be saying this

in conclusion: GBA Chain of Memories' intra-Organization strife subplot is so tightly woven with calculated moves on all sides that Re:CoM changing certain things without taking into consideration the consequences makes certain parts of the plot fall flat and become far more confusing than in the original story

[simplepotatofarmer]

Blog Update:

Hi, it's me, Loyal.

I just want to say first and foremost, I really do love (parts of) the fandom and I'm not going anywhere.

I will, however, not be around as much. One, I'm about to enter an all day intensive treatment plan so I'll literally just be on in the evening. Two, as much as I'm going to keep writing and creating, I have no intention of interacting publicly with fandom as much as I have.

I can't. It's actually fucking insane that it's gotten to this point. I made tribute post and because I used lyrics from Dream's song, I got harassed. The people doing this, acting like this, thinking this way are insane.

So in case it's not clear: Based on my personal lived experience and some information that's come to light, I still enjoy Dream's content. You can approach me personally, off anon, if you want to know my reasoning. If you dislike me for this, that's fine. But I'm done trying to walk this fine line just so I don't get people threatening me, my kids, and my pets. Just so people stop sending me the city I live in, so they stop digging up twelve year old tweets, so they stop calling me slurs and suicide baiting me.

That's absolutely insane. It's horrible. It's disgusting and I was honestly just sitting here, taking it, because I'm terrified of upsetting people and losing friends if I say 'yeah, I'm excited for a new manhunt and I also this song helped me and my kids process my grief'. And the worst part is, it's not an unfounded fear. People have done the most vile shit to me. People I thought were friends jumped on me instead of those harassing me.

I just want to post about Techno and c!Rivals duo and not worry about whether or not this post is going to get me hate. I don't want to worry about how random discord servers are talking about me.

Because that's fucking batshit. Not the worrying, but what these people are doing and I'm tired of letting this effect me. I have enough going on in my personal life. My partner of 15 years almost died. We almost lost our house. I should be able to come online and post about the silly minecraft guys I like and their RP and lore without censoring myself out of fear of literally being doxxed and cyber stalked. I should be able to talk about the racism that effects me without being afraid people will make it about cc drama or calling me slurs or erasing my identity as an Ojibwe person.

The people doing this are the problem. It hurts that so many people are part of this, it really does. But I can't keep letting it get to me. I've always done my best to be kind. I haven't been perfect, especially not lately, because all this hate and stress has gotten to me. I've lashed out. I shouldn't have.

And I shouldn't have had to deal with all that shit in the first place. I hope no one else does. It's terrifying and draining and I'm done.

So I intend to post the things I enjoy, I intend to reblog my friends' art, write the Emerald duo and Rivals duo fics I want to. I want to post about the Syndicate and the new manhunt when it comes out. That's what I'm going to do.

Asks are staying off for the moment because people are too happy to make burner blogs but I'll probably turn them back on at some point as I love answering lore and headcanon questions and, again, it's fucked up I can't enjoy an aspect of the site and fandom because people can't just leave me alone.

To those people: Get help. You're harassing someone because you think they deserve it and that's the most fucked up thing.

To everyone else: So so many of you have been amazing. You've been supportive, you've been kind. That kindness and support speaks volumes and I love you all. I genuinely love you. Dreblr, you've been here for me for over a year at this point and I cannot thank you enough. You are the best part of fandom as far as I'm concerned. And to Dtblr, y'all have come to support me countless times and that means the world to me, it really does. As for all my fellow Rivals duo fans, you people are worth your weight in gold for the joy you bring. A special shout-out to @vpofcookies because you've been here since the beginning, practically, and I love you. There's more but you know who you are.

Anyway, I've been carrying this for awhile and I'm tired. I'm no longer going to give any amount of thought to the people determined to drag me down and harass me constantly.

My best advice is stop focusing on the things and people you hate and instead focus on what you love. That's what I plan to do, from here on out.

[sun-undone]

the cinematography in the first Jiara confrontation scene in 3x04 is so fucking good and i just need to rant about it for a bit. specifically the repeated camera angle that frames Jiara through the broken porch screen.

as some very important context, the screen was broken back in 1x07 when JJ tried to give the stolen 25k to Luke to pay for his restitution. JJ and Luke got into a pretty brutal fight that ended with them crashing through the screen and JJ almost killing Luke with a wrench in pretty much the same spot that Jiara is standing during their conversation in this 3x04 scene. the ghosts of that confrontation and all that trauma from Luke in general are ever-present in this scene and inform so much of JJ's reaction throughout the scene, and i think this continued camera angle through the broken screen is clear symbolism of that.

btw the theme of every post i ever make could be "i might be reading into everything way too much" but i'd like to think that these camerawork decisions were meaningful, so i'm running with the assumption that they were

so the first time we see this angle is right after Kie tells JJ that Big John is alive:

they're both clearly happy about the news, it's the lightest part of the scene by a landslide, and yet we get this angle reminding us of JJ's broken home and family life, specifically with his own father. so even though JJ is smiling about Big John being alive and John B being reunited with him, this angle portrays maybe some internal feelings of jealousy or grief for his own situation or even a bit of foreshadowing that Big John may not be good for John B, which this episode absolutely starts to show us.

the second instance of this angle is when Kie starts to shift the conversation from Big John and the treasure to how she wanted to check on JJ:

i LOVE how they're both framed so perfectly in the open part of the screen, it really symbolizes how Kie has noticed JJ pulling back and is actively trying to show him that she's gonna be there for him no matter what. they're literally positioned together in this symbolic open wound of JJ's.

the third and fourth times that we see this angle are after JJ has pulled away from the second almost kiss with Kie and is rattling off all the reasons why they could never work out:

he even calls direct attention to the porch screen and everything that it and the house in general represents for him when he throws an empty beer can (which is also incredibly fitting) through the hole. the angle lingers throughout this portion because he feels so trapped in his history and his reputation and his trauma, and he's desperately trying to push Kie away cause he's convinced himself so deeply that he doesn't deserve the love that she's offering. the ghost of Luke calling him a worthless piece of shit (and probably countless other things throughout his life) is kind of holding him hostage here, and the angle persisting portrays that feeling of believing something for so long that it becomes the only thing you know. it’s literally and metaphorically framing his view of himself through the trauma he’s experienced. all of that baggage is always clouding the edges of his self-image, just like the porch screen is framing these shots.

as JJ goes on to ask why Kie should even care about him and his shitty situation, we continue to get the angle. he's still self-destructing as well as taking his anger out on the trash in the yard, turning his back to Kie as he insists that she doesn't (shouldn't) care about him, but she continues to bridge the gap between them, once again moving to place herself firmly inside that symbolic open wound right along with him.

the final time we get this angle is when JJ has decided to remove himself from the situation because Kie won't take his bait of trying to push her away and it's just become too much for him:

i definitely think that this reflex of his to run away from difficult conversations is an unhealthy coping mechanism caused by the abuse that he's suffered (and we've consistently seen examples of him shutting down emotional shit and self-isolating throughout the series so far). his inability to comprehend how anyone but especially Kie could love him and have a desire to help him unconditionally is also absolutely a side-effect of his trauma and abandonment issues, so it makes perfect sense for this moment to also be framed through that broken porch screen. it's reminding us exactly where this reaction comes from. if anyone watching was wondering "why is JJ acting like this??? what's his problem????" then hopefully they can realize that they've got their answer from the very composition of this shot.

this is kind of a mess, my brain has really not been working very well recently but i hope it makes some kind of sense. basically i love these shots and they make me incredibly emotional because of how weighty they are. luke wasn't in this season at all but his presence was very much felt. that is all

[seattledaytwo]

🍒

didn't get a chance to play DE yet, but I humored myself with some playthroughs already and I'm... questioning shit rn. I just checked what max's phone has to offer in my ending (bae ending with pricefield as... hs sweethearts apparently). and I just don't understand wtf happened. I don't want to spoil the main plot of DE, but the way they don't offer any datas or timeframe... I'm kinda offended by the messages shown in max's phone. it looks so wrong. I mean, ofc there is the whole multiverse and I can believe that in some universe pricefield could've broken up but??? it feels wrong actually seeing it, I mean my expectations are my own mistakes, but... I need time to process

I mean, it could be great, but they promised to respect both endings. and the way I see it, most people who saved chloe didn't do it to see such an ending. I get that this stuff happens in real life, it's natural outcome for the relationship built on trauma, but for both Max and Chloe it's really off and out of character. I probably need to see more from the game to get a better perspective, but now i'm just sad.

how are u feeling tho?

OOF okay yeah I'm going to be brutally honest about my thoughts on Double Exposure.

So from the very first announcement, the concept left a bad taste in my mouth. It felt incredibly cheap to bring Max back, and I knew that even if the game was fantastic, that narrative choice would always rub me the wrong way. I don't like the idea of Deck Nine taking Dontnod's characters and continuing a story that had been tied up with a perfect bow already. It feels...I don't know. It feels gross, I guess, is the best word I can use.

Chloe's lack of presence stood out to me immediately, and combined with the pieces of the game we'd seen, I knew she wouldn't be part of it. At best, there would be some offscreen explanation about her traveling or something (like how Dragon Age explains where the Warden went if you romanced Leliana). What they went with was...worse than I anticipated, lol.

In my opinion, it's very clear that they brought Max back solely to bait people into buying and playing, and it's backfiring HARDCORE on them right now. I've seen so many people cancelling their preorders and turning away from the game. The promos for the games were purposely avoiding a mention of Chloe, not to be fun and surprise the fanbase, but to string people along until the very last second. Clearly, it didn't work out!

It's really a bummer because I think I would have LOVED this game if it featured a new protagonist. I mean, switching timelines, a university story, an older protagonist? Absolutely right up my alley! But the fact that they dragged Max in to be the hook immediately turned me off to it.

To be honest, I would be very unsurprised if this is the last Life is Strange game after all the backlash that's already starting. And honestly? I'm kind of okay with that. I have concerns about how Deck Nine and Square Enix would/could handle future installments, since it feels like the integrity of the series has been degraded so much with DE.

I never had any plans to play the game, but I don't even really feel like watching a playthrough now either, lmao. All that to say, I really don't consider this game canon. This feels more like a parody than an actual continuation of Max's story.

It's very, very sad to me because the first game came out when I was a teenager trying to figure herself out, and Max and Chloe were very integral to exploring and discovering my sexuality (even before I realized it)!

I love True Colors and I think Deck Nine is capable of writing a compelling (if not a little lacking in some aspects) storyline, but diving back into Max's story was a really bad idea and I think it might be the series' downfall.

And...wow, I guess I had more to say than I realized 😅

[hollybell51]

ok i know you said requests are backlogged but i also read your sam winchester fic (oh my god???? so good!!!!!) and i noticed that you put dean on your tag list form and i am literally in love with him so if you get time could you do like a hurt/confort fic for him where the reader gets like seriously injured and tells him she loves him because she thinks she's dying and doesn't wanna die without saying it?

Anon you are in luck, the supernatural brainrot is still going strong. Also if you wanna be tagged in stuff make sure you submit responses to that form otherwise I don't know what usernames to put xx

The other thing

Navigation

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 5.8K

Summary: hunting a ghost that only seems to attack young women, you volunteer yourself as bait. The plan doesn't exactly go to plan, leading to some confessions being made.

Content: ANGST. Angst, besties. Hurt/comfort, mainly hurt but there is some comfort there, whump (sorta), mostly Dean's perspective but still second person narrative voice (loml), probably bad characterisation but I think it's passable???? Sam is like the no. 1 Dean/you shipper, A+ wingman. Badly written emotional vulnerability but I tried I promise. Kissing, first kisses, "I love you"s, bit of blood but not too explicit, hospitals, etc. etc. Dean is a warning on his own but yknow what I love him. I may have missed some stuff so please don't hesitate to catch me on it!

Notes: ft. my freaking awful titles lmaoooo. This isn't really set during any actual episode, but I'm sorta working off only having watched the first two seasons so just assume it takes place somewhere around then. Also the more I watch this the more I just wanna grab him and put him in my pocket or something, it's so bizarre. He's so pretty. I love his cockiness, I love the little eyebrow thing he does, I love the little jaw thing he does. Sorry if I messed up any lore or anything, writing this was a fever dream but tbh I had fun, it's nice to just sorta write you know? Thanks for the suggestion Anon

“Guys, can you hurry up?” 

Dean glanced over his shoulder, frantically sprinkling fuel over the exposed corpse below. He couldn’t see all that much in the darkness, but it didn’t exactly look like you had the upper hand. None of them had realised how big the ghost was until now, and with the machete it was currently slashing at you…

“Almost there!” Sam shouted, striking a match and casting it into the grave. The remains went up with a “whoomp!”, the ghost howled and stumbled back. It was difficult to really know what happened in those few moments as the light from the burning remains glinted off the metal of the machete and the ghost shimmered and began to disappear, but what was clear was that something had happened to you. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping your own weapon with a dull thud. You staggered, catching yourself on a headstone before your knees gave out and you sank to the ground. You were hunched over awkwardly, your shoulders heaving, hands clutched tight to your stomach. 

“(Y/N)?” Dean asked, frowning. Were you hurt? Just out of breath? 

“I’m alright,” you called. “Just… give me a second.” 

“Shit,” Sam muttered, dropping the salt and packet of matches and running towards you. “Dean!” he yelled as he knelt down, stripping off his jacket and balling it up, pressing it to your stomach. 

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. He was frozen, the can of fuel dangling limply from his fingers. He’d known using you as bait for a psychotic ghost murderer was a bad idea, even when you’d insisted that you’d be fine. It wasn't that he didn’t think you could handle it – he’d seen you in action enough times to know you were a force to be reckoned with – but he’d had a horrible feeling something was going to go wrong from the moment you’d laid out your plan. 

“He goes after girls, right?” You’d had an uncomfortable light in your eyes, all steely determination that Dean simultaneously loved and hated. Loved because, well, it was so you and it meant you were getting shit done, hated because more often than not you were putting yourself in danger. And yes, he was aware of the hypocrisy. 

He’d tried to talk you out of it, Sam had too. But once your mind was set – and set it was – no amount of convincing on anyone’s part could do anything about it. The second the idea had begun to form in your brain, the path was laid and there was no point trying to change that. 

“You better get over here man, quick!” Sam’s voice dropped, but wasn’t quiet enough that Dean couldn’t hear his next words, addressed to you. “Just hold on, Dean’s coming. Keep breathing, ok?” 

Fuck, that didn’t sound good. Dean’s limbs jerked back to life. He didn’t waste another second, sprinting the few metres through the forest of tombstones to where his brother was bent over you. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Sam yelled, one hand pressing his jacket to your stomach. “Help me!” 

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, kneeling beside you and taking over from Sam without any input from Dean himself. Dully, he noticed that there was already a warm, damp patch on the jacket, as well as a dark spot glistening darkly over your side. Shit. 

“I’ll be fine,” you’d insisted when he'd raised his doubts. “I’ve got you guys. You just burn the bones fast, I reckon I can hold him off for a few minutes.” Then you’d shrugged, grinning. “And if it all goes to hell, I know you’ve got my back.”

Yeah, fat lot of help they’d been. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“He got me on his way out,” you laughed bitterly. “Can you believe that? Halfway gone and he just–” You broke off, making a vague slashing gesture with your free hand. “God, I’m an idiot.” 

“No, no you did fine. We shoulda been quicker.” Dean assured you, pressing harder. “Sorry,” he muttered as you let out a pained whimper.

“‘Salright,” you grimaced. “My fault. Dean, I gotta–” 

“Shh, no, it’s fine. It’s ok, you’ll be ok.” 

You shook your head, tears mixing with the sweat on your face. He watched one trace a path through the dirt caked on your skin. “It’s important, please.” 

He shook his head. “The only thing that’s important right now is keeping your eyes open, yeah? Just… just do that.” 

“I’m calling 911,” Sam said. “Just stay there, don’t move.” 

“I’m not planning on taking off, don’t worry.” You smiled tightly, then your face twisted in what Dean thought was fear, panic even. It was like a punch to his stomach, he hadn’t seen you look that scared since… Well, ever. Your hand fumbled over his, trying to find something to grab. 

“It’s alright,” he told you, pressing on the jacked one-handed as the fingers of the other one twined with your own. “It’s alright, (Y/N).” 

“No, no Dean, you have to burn me. Make sure you salt me, uh… Sage, use sage too.” 

He felt the blood drain from his face, cold rushing through him. “What?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone. You have to get rid of me, ok?” 

Oh God. Oh God. Dean looked up, searching frantically for Sam. He was watching you while he talked to the emergency operator, his fist pressed against his mouth and his hand shaking where he held the phone. He met Dean’s eyes, shaking his head. 

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone because you’re not going anywhere.” Dean’s voice was blessedly steady, despite the uncomfortable lump in his throat. 

“Promise me,” you whispered, then shouted when he didn’t respond. “Promise me, Dean!” 

He gripped your hand tighter, your own fingers digging harshly into his flesh. “I promise you will be ok,” he said. 

You sobbed, your body heaving under the rapidly dampening jacket. That was way too much blood for Dean’s liking, and judging by the increasing urgency of Sam’s quiet conversation on the phone, he felt the same. 

Your panicked gaze locked on Dean’s face, tears coursing down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna go,” you choked. “I didn’t tell you. I can’t go.” 

Didn’t tell him what? It didn’t matter. He squeezed your hand in what he hoped was a more reassuring than painful way. “It’s ok, you’re not going anywhere, alright? You’re staying right here, I’ve got you.” 

“You’ve gotta listen to me, Dean–” 

“No, tell me later. Just hold on, save your energy.” 

“Dean–” 

“(Y/N) hold on!” 

“Dean!” 

“Dean, listen to her.” Sam had finished on the phone, the screen shining eerily on his face. At Dean’s raised eyebrow he gave a tiny nod. Yeah, there was an ambulance on the way. 

“Sam, she is not gonna die.” He shook his head, turning back to you. “We’ve got all the time in the world, ok sweetheart?” He searched frantically for something to say, anything to keep your attention. He was no doctor, but he knew it would be bad if you passed out. Very bad. 

“Uh… fuck.” He broke off, floundering. What would keep you awake? What could he possibly say after you’d just made him promise to get rid of your spirit once you were dead, which was not going to happen.

“It’s actually not a bad night,” he started, already kicking himself mentally. “Bit of a breeze. I guess it’s sheltered down there, you’ve got a nice, uh, headstone blocking it. Ground’s not too bad either, not too hard. Glad it’s not gravel, my knees’re killing me.” 

A watery laugh clawed its way from you before another sob wracked your body. “Dean, I gotta tell you…” 

“Can you see the stars from down there?” he asked, cutting you off. “I bet they’re bright out here. No light pollution.” He grabbed your hand as your fingers loosened their grip, dread settling like a stone in his stomach. 

Your eyes wandered away from his face, sweeping over the space behind him. You nodded, but the haziness that had slid over your face didn’t do anything to help Dean’s panic, especially now that you weren’t holding his hand nearly as tightly as you had been. 

“Wait,” he said, squeezing your fingers. “Just focus on me, keep looking at me.” 

Your eyes swung back to his. “Please,” you whispered. “Please Dean, listen to me” 

Sam’s hand settled on his shoulder, large and heavy. He nodded to your face when Dean glanced at him, and to his horror he realised there were specks of blood on your lips. 

He swallowed hard. He hadn’t realised, but this was probably one of the worst moments of his life. He’d entirely ignored even the possibility of you being injured, let alone dying – just thinking the word felt wrong – since you’d joined him and Sam, doggedly refusing to acknowledge the near physical ache the idea of your absence caused. Now it was happening, right in front of him. Heat prickled behind his eyes. 

He took a deep breath, steadying his voice. “Yeah, alright sweetheart. You tell me, I’m listening.” 

Relief washed over your face. “I wanted to say it,” you whispered, “before. I didn’t want it like this.” 

“It’s ok. Sh, it’s ok.” 

Your body convulsed under his hand with another sob, more blood leaking from the corners of your mouth. “I love you,” you choked. “I love you so much. I don’t wanna get stuck because I never told you.” 

Oh. Oh. Dean’s mind went blank, then crashed right back into his skull. It was like swinging on a swing, at the peak of the arc where you floated a little before you started going down again. Yeah, that was his brain in that moment. Of course you’d have the guts to say it when he didn’t, even if it was out of fear of becoming an angry ghost. He cursed the universe and its cruel sense of humour. He faced horrors beyond most people’s imaginations almost every day, but still couldn’t say three simple words when he wanted to more than anything, and now you’d taken the first step for him and it was because you thought you were about to die. Someone up there must have hated his guts.  

“I know,” he said finally, nodding. “I know you do. Hold on, ok? There’s an ambulance, it’s gonna get here any minute” It wasn’t what he wanted to tell you, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make his mouth cooperate. 

You smiled, your grip on his hand all but nonexistent now. Your breathing was getting shallower by the second, your eyes unfocussed and no longer trained on his face. It was like now that you’d said your piece, you weren’t even trying to stay awake. He didn’t like to be too dramatic, but he was almost convinced that he was the one who’d been stabbed, not you. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), not you. Please, not you.” 

A wailing siren sounded in the distance, blue and red lights flashing rapidly brighter as the ambulance drew closer. 

“Just a few more minutes,” Sam said, pacing. His eyes never left your face. “Come on, (Y/N), any second now.” 

You were perfectly still, too still. Dean leant over, careful to keep applying pressure to your stomach as he listened for breath. The faintest hint of it brushed his cheek, not enough. He blinked hard, holding you against his chest, his face pressed into your hair. It still smelled like the cheap shampoo from the most recent motel, mixed with blood and dirt and sweat. It should have been disgusting, but to Dean it smelled so right. He wondered what that said about his lifestyle choices. 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice choked. “(Y/N)...” 

Your hand slipped from his, and it was like a damn breaking. He felt his shoulders jerk, something between a sob and a grunt torn from him. 

“I love you too,” he whispered, clinging so tightly to you he was half scared he was going to hurt you. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, (Y/N), I love you.” 

The siren was deafening as the ambulance skidded to a stop, Sam waving frantically to the paramedics swarming the graveyard. Someone pulled Dean back despite his protests. Cold stung his cheeks, the breeze from earlier having turned into a wind. It vaguely occurred to him that the reason it was so cold on his face was because he was crying. 

Everything was a blur as you were engulfed by uniformed paramedics, your limp form lifted onto a stretcher and born away into the vehicle. Someone tried to talk to him before Sam, uncannily put together and coherent, spoke to them and explained. There was a lot of nodding and “thankyou”s, then Dean was being loaded into the Impala like a little kid and Sam was driving like you were in the back seat instead of in the ambulance.  

All he was aware of at the hospital was Sam’s hand gripping his arm, muttering that he needed to pull it together “for her, man.” The harsh, clinical lights and the rush that everyone seemed to be in wasn’t helping Dean’s panic, every prone body he glimpsed taking on your face until he blinked and it was a complete stranger. What if the unthinkable really happened? What if you died, and he hadn’t been able to save you, keep you safe like you’d been so sure he would? What if you really did linger as a tormented spirit, what if he and Sam had to hunt you, get rid of you like you’d said? He didn’t know if he’d be able to do that. 

Finally, a serious looking man with a clipboard and a badge approached them. “Are you with the young woman–” he glanced at the clipboard, “(Y/N), who just came in?” 

“Yes,” Sam said quickly. “Yeah, how is she? Is she alright?” 

“She’s damn lucky someone put as much pressure as they did on that cut,” he sighed. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s stable.” 

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking. 

“Thankyou,” Sam smiled. “Thank you, doctor. When can we see her?” 

He frowned at the clipboard again, tapping his fingers on the plastic. “Well she’s unconscious, I daresay she will be for a while yet.” 

“Please,” Dean interrupted. “I– we just need to see her.” 

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You boys family?” 

“Brothers,” Sam lied at the same time as Dean said “husband.” 

“I’m her husband,” he went on, ignoring the little flip his stomach did. Somehow, the familiar lie felt different now that he’d told you how he felt, even if you hadn’t heard. “He’s my brother in law.” 

“Ok,” he shrugged, “but she won’t… Well, she was stabbed. There’s a lot of tubes, bandages, and she’s out cold. It might be…” He stopped, sighing. “Some people find it confronting, seeing their loved ones like this.” 

Dean felt Sam glance at him, but he ignored it. “Trust me,” he said with a tight smile, “I’ve seen worse.” 

He had not, as it turned out, seen worse. You were completely still apart from the gentle rise and fall of your chest, a thin cotton blanket pulled up and tucked in with clinical precision around your ribs. You had a little cut on your forehead that Dean hadn’t noticed at the graveyard. A drip trailed from the back of your hand to a cluster of bags suspended above you, a thin plastic tube wrapped around your head just under your nose. Oxygen, he assumed. If he ignored all that, you could have been sleeping. 

Sam pushed the door open softly, as if he was afraid he’d wake you up. Dean hesitated a moment, then followed him inside. Up close, he could see the light sheen of sweat on your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the pallor of your lips and cheeks. He reached out to touch you, maybe lay his hand on your forehead or smooth your hair away from your face, but drew his hand back at the last moment. He didn’t want to somehow unbalance you from whatever tightrope you were walking right now, even though he knew that was illogical. Still, even breathing the same air felt somehow dangerous for you. 

“Did she tell you?” he asked Sam eventually. 

“That she loves you?” He didn’t give Dean a chance to explain that he hadn’t meant that, that he’d been talking about your fear of not-quite-death. “She never said it outright, but I sort of worked it out, y’know? You guys weren’t really that subtle.” 

Dean frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just…” He shrugged, gesturing vaguely between your prone form and Dean. “You’re always looking at her, when you think she can’t see you. She does the same. Always just sorta… doing little things for each other. And you’re always touching her, I don’t know if you realised.” 

“Huh. I didn’t.” It was true, although it didn’t really surprise him. He liked the little smile you gave him whenever he picked something up from a store for you – a favourite candy, something you’d mentioned you felt like – and he’d just assumed when you did similar things for him it was because you were, well, you. But now that he thought about it, he couldn’t name half as many times when you’d taken the same care and effort for Sam. Not that you’d neglected his brother, it was just… slightly less personal, less specially catered. He felt a surge of warmth for you, then a pang as his eyes landed again on your too-pale face. 

As for touching you, well, he wanted to. All the time. He wanted to put his hand on your shoulder, wrap his arms around your waist, hold you close and feel your heartbeat against his. Every brief half-hug or brush of your skin against his was something precious to him, so of course he’d want more. His mind flashed back to the tightness of your hand in his at the graveyard, the warm slick of your blood as you’d clung to him. Even that had been almost euphoric, past the raw terror and sickening dread. He was going to hold you like that again – under better circumstances – if it killed him. 

“Yeah,” Sam went on. “She’s the same, actually.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I remember this one time, Illinois, I think. We got a motel room with the longest couch you've ever seen. You sat down in the corner, and she comes and sits right next to you! When she’s got, like, another two metres of space to choose from.” 

Dean did remember that, actually. He remembered the rush he’d gotten as you’d squished up against his side, complaining that you were cold even though your skin had been warm to the touch. He still thought about it, sometimes. “Huh,” he said again. 

“Yeah.” It was silent apart from the beeping of your monitor and the normal hospital sounds outside the room, then Sam turned and faced him. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Dean shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have let her put herself out there like that in the first place.” 

“No, I was supposed to have her back. I shouldn’t have taken so long with the salt.” 

He wasn’t wrong, Dean knew that, but it had been him who’d agreed to your plan. You’d put your faith in him just as much as you had in Sam, and he’d let you down. He hadn’t liked the whole thing from the start, but still he’d gone ahead with it. And now here you were, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and Sam was beating himself up about it. It was all so wrong, and Dean could have stopped it so easily. But as he looked at you, he swore he could hear you snorting derisively at him, crossing your arms with a firm “bullshit!” 

“It’s my choice,” you’d say. “You’re really gonna try to steal my credit?”

“She’d call bullshit on you, you know,” he said. 

His brother shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, you too probably. She’d poke you, right here.” He reached around and stuck his finger firmly in the middle of Dean’s chest, right where you’d done countless times. 

Despite himself, Dean smiled. Then your drip beeped and he was jerked painfully back to the present, and the problem at hand. 

“Did you know she was so scared?” he asked. “Of, y’know…” Dying. Haunting someone. Getting stuck here, not being able to move on. 

Sam didn’t answer for a moment, then he sighed, still looking at you. “She mentioned it.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Why didn’t she tell me? 

“She didn’t want me to. She thought you’d think… I don’t know, that she wouldn’t be able to do the job. She really didn’t want you to know she was scared, she was so worried about what you thought of her. She said you were…” He swallowed, cleared his throat, continued. “She said you were never scared, and she didn’t want you to think she was. Even when I told her we were all terrified.” 

“Damn right,” Dean muttered. You’d done a great job at putting on such a brave front, he’d sometimes wondered if there was actually something wrong with you. Or maybe not wrong, but different. He’d never known anyone who could handle the things they did so well, not even his dad. It was something of a relief to know that there was more to it. 

“She was convinced she’d be the type of person to get stuck,” he continued. “Kept saying she wouldn’t be able to move on, that she had too much that she was holding onto and she didn’t know how to let go.” He finally raised his head, looking at Dean with what he thought was pity. Any other time, that would have annoyed him. 

“That’s why she said it,” he muttered, the uncomfortable lump back in his throat. When you woke up, he was going to give you a serious talk about timing. 

Sam nodded. 

“And she didn’t–” His voice broke, and he turned away. He wanted to punch something, put his fist through the wall or slam his hand down on the table, but he was too scared it would somehow disturb you. “I didn’t say it back.”

“Woah, hey.” Sam’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steadying him. “You did, man. You did.” 

“I was too late! She was out!” 

“Yeah, and you can tell her again when she wakes up.” 

“What if–” 

“No.” Sam shook his head firmly, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder, anchoring him to the spot. “She’s waking up, and when she does you’re gonna ask her out on a proper date, she’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna sort yourselves out like adults. Ok?” 

Dean looked away. The prospect of asking you out suddenly felt enormous. Of course he’d taken girls on dates before, he knew what he was doing, but that had been more along the lines of “I think you’re cute and you’re clearly into me, let’s get dinner and then we can hook up.” He’d never faced “I’ve been pining over you for months and I was too scared to do anything about it but you almost died and told me you loved me – love, not like – and I have no idea where this is gonna go but Sam’s right and asking you out is probably the best next step even if it’s absolutely terrifying”. He was a total mess, and he knew it. 

“Ok?” Sam asked again, insistent. 

“Ok,” he agreed. “Ok.” 

“Good.” 

You didn’t wake up until a day later. Well, that was according to the time and date displayed on the clock opposite your bed. Dean didn’t really have any recollection of time actually passing. 

He was slumped in the chair beside your bed, your hand held gently in his own as he dozed. He hadn’t let himself fully sleep since you’d been brought in, too afraid that something would happen while he was out, despite all Sam’s urging. Eventually he’d just sent his brother back to the motel, assuring him that he’d be fine on his own and that he wanted to be there for you when you came around. 

He jerked out of his half-nap when your fingers twitched, cursing when his pain stabbed through his neck. Snoozing in hospital chairs was never a good idea. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, frowning at the ceiling. 

Dean cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “(Y/N)?” 

You turned, your face clearing when you saw him. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart skip a beat. “Dean,” you whispered. “What’re you doing here?” 

He shrugged, making to withdraw his hand, but your grip tightened. “I’m the ‘welcome back’ committee.” 

“Oh.” You nodded, smiling softly. You ran your free hand over the bandage circling your waist, studying the IV embedded in your skin. “We got him, didn’t we?” you asked. 

Right, the ghost. “Uh, yeah, he’s gone. Your plan worked,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

“It was a pretty good plan,” you grinned. 

He shook his head. “It almost got you killed.” 

“But it worked,” you insisted, your eyes shining. “He’s gone, Dean. Who knows how many people we saved?” 

“And what about you, huh?” 

You shrugged. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

He took a deep breath, bending his head so you wouldn’t see the moisture he was sure he could feel gathering in his eyes. How were you so casual about it? It had been your life on the line, you who’d gotten stabbed, who’d been bleeding out, terrified of not dying properly and becoming a ghost yourself. 

“Hey,” you said gently, your hand slipping from his, sliding up over his arm to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“You almost died, (Y/N). Sam told me, what you said about getting stuck, being unable to move on.” 

You were silent for a moment, then you sighed. “Well it’s just awkward now that I’m still here.” 

Despite himself, Dean laughed. He raised his head, placing his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb in a circle over it. Your skin was warm as ever, dry to the touch. It was such a contrast from the graveyard, one he was glad of. You smiled, some of the colour already returning to your face. 

“I’ve always got your back,” he said, “no matter what. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“I wanted to, I really wanted to. But I just… I don’t know, I just couldn’t. Every time I tried it was like this brick wall went up in my brain.” You shrugged, drawing your hand back as you shifted to sit more upright. Dean missed its warmth instantly. “You’re always so… unfazed, you know? It felt kinda stupid.” 

He snorted. Sure, Sam had already told him what you’d said, but it was different coming from you. 

You folded your arms, as if you’d just won an argument. “See?” 

“Shit, (Y/N),” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not – what’d you say? – unfazed. This shit gets to me too, I just…” He thought, unsure how to phrase it. “I didn’t wanna scare you,” he finally settled for. “Didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Oh.” You picked at a loose thread in the blanket, biting your lip. “And the other thing?” 

“Yeah, the other thing.” He’d known this was coming, he’d tried to find the words as he’d sat beside you, waiting for you to wake up. He’d almost had it, he told himself. How hard could it be, after all? 

“I didn’t wanna die with, like, unfinished business. That’s the main reason people stick around. It felt like if I didn’t get it out there, I wouldn’t ever be able to… keep going. Move on.” You swallowed, not meeting his eyes. “It’s ok,” you went on, “if you don’t, y’know, feel the same. I’d understand.” 

So you hadn’t heard him. Dean wasn’t surprised, but some part of him had been clinging to the hope that somehow his words had gotten through to you even as you were bundled into the back of the ambulance. 

He shook his head. “I just wish you’d said something before.” 

You looked up, hope chasing confusion across your face. “What?” 

“I wish you’d said something before,” he repeated. “It would’ve saved us both a lotta trouble.” 

“I don’t…” You frowned. “What’re you…?” 

He shrugged, his heart beating a million mph. “I love you too,” he said simply.

You blinked, opening your mouth to say something, closing it again. Slowly, a smile crept across your features. “Alright,” you grinned, way too smug for Dean’s liking. “Alright then.” 

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but the threat was empty and you both knew it. 

You shifted again, leaning towards him. “Come here,” you said softly. 

He stood, ignoring the ache in his back from the bloody uncomfortable chair. 

Impatiently, you beckoned him closer. 

He raised an eyebrow, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “Do I get to kiss you?” 

“That’s the goal, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, tilting your face against his hand. Dean wasn’t fond of the whole “butterflies in your stomach” thing, but he had no idea how else to describe the feeling that tiny gesture conjured. It really was like someone had released a swarm of the things inside him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. 

You were watching him expectantly, almost like you were challenging him. “Go on,” your eyes seemed to be saying, “try it.” 

He did. Your lips were softer than he’d expected, and just as warm as your hands. You made a sound somewhere in the realm of a sigh as his hand slid down to rest on your shoulder, pushing gently towards him, your own fingers running over his jaw to brush along the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe he’d waited this long to kiss you, and now that he’d finally taken the plunge, he never wanted to stop. 

But he had to breathe, unfortunately, and so did you. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. You were still close enough that he could feel the words against his skin. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he replied. 

You laughed, a soft, breathy sound, and closed the tiny gap once more. “I love you,” you murmured between kisses, “and I’m sorry it took me almost dying to say it.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too.”

The door handle clicked, the hinges squealing. “Ok, so I ran into the doctor on the way in— woah.” 

Dean stood up so fast he almost overbalanced. 

Sam was standing in the doorway with a disposable coffee cup in each hand, his mouth hanging open as he stared from you to Dean and back again. 

You cleared your throat. “Hi, Sam.” 

He shut his mouth, shoving the cups into Dean’s hands as he crossed the room and bent to hug you with a muttered “thank God.” 

“Watch it,” you warned, “I’m injured.” But your arms snaked around his back anyway, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into his neck. 

“You’re never allowed to scare us like that again,” Sam said firmly. 

Your eyes found Dean’s over Sam’s shoulder, and you smiled. “I’m not really planning on it, don’t worry.” 

Sam just laughed. “How’re you feeling?” he asked when he finally let you go. 

“Ok,” you nodded, then frowned. “Hungry.” 

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. He’d gotten bored some time in the morning, and the packet of pudding that had been left on your bedside table along with a bottle of water had been practically begging to be tasted. He’d wondered if you’d wake up before they brought a replacement, he’d even felt a little bad eating your food, but he was hungry, dammit, and when Sam had left he’d said he would come back “later” which meant “tonight”. And that was too long for Dean to wait. He also didn’t have any money on him, and wouldn’t have left your side for the cafeteria when the pudding was right there. 

“What?” you asked. 

“He ate the pudding they left you,” Sam said. Dean never should have mentioned it, but he’d been desperate to get Sam to bring him something and it had felt convincing over the phone.

Dean glared at his brother and the coffees – which were very noticeably not the fast food he’d had in mind. “You try living in that chair for a day, see how long you can go without.” Then he turned to you. “You didn’t miss much, don’t worry.” 

“Well, I’m hungry!” you protested, crossing your arms and looking for all the world like a petulant toddler. 

Sam’s words about asking you out echoed in his mind.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” he said. “At an actual restaurant, not a fast food place. As soon as they let you outta here, alright? In the meantime…” He reached for the bottle of water, handing it to you with an apologetic shrug. It was better than nothing. 

You wrinkled your nose at him. “This is a pretty shit first date.” 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. Then, on second thoughts, “It’s not a first date, Sam’s here.” 

“Geez,” Sam muttered, “sorry. And after I got you a coffee too.” 

“Did you get me one?” you asked hopefully. 

“No,” he said slowly. “But you can have mine if you want?” 

You sighed. “I don’t like it how you do. But thanks,” you added with a smile. 

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be awake.” 

“Have a little faith, Sam.” 

He smiled, glancing between you and Dean. 

“You owe me a coffee, and you owe me a dinner,” you continued before he could say anything. Dean thanked you silently. He didn’t really want a shovel talk from his own brother right now, which he could see Sam was just dying to dish out. He wondered if you’d be getting one. Probably, but he had no doubts that it would be less “shovel” more “talk”. 

“Soon as you’re fixed up,” he said. “I promise.” 

“And it’ll be a date?” 

“Sweetheart, it’ll be the best first date you’ve ever been on. Trust me.” 

You just grinned, ignoring Sam’s fake-disgusted sigh. “Ok.”