#tried to fight the seasonal depression today by going on a walk for like an hour

[aestheticaltcow]

No Phone Policy 6.0

The final part of No Phone Policy: I had a lot of different ending ideas for this, but low-key. The seasonal depression is hitting pretty hard, so we get an okay ending instead of a fire ending. There may be an epilogue, but don't quote me on that.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N? You’re scaring me…” Mars begged as she kneeled beside you, brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. After what had happened with Carmy, you’d come to her downtown apartment. You didn’t answer her question. You closed your eyes and tried to take a breath, only for it to get caught in your throat.

Mars sighed and let you be in her guest room. 

Your Dad, on the other hand, had none of this. When Mars had updated him on what was happening, he was mentally preparing to go to prison for the rest of his life. He was going to kill Carmen Berzatto and happily admit to doing it. No one hurt one of his little girls and got away with it. 

He pulled up to you and Carmy’s house early that afternoon. He parked next to Carmy’s car and calmly approached the door. He remembered where the two of you hid your spare key and let himself in. 

“Carmen,” he called as he began walking upstairs, clenching and unclenching his fists as he vaguely remembered the layout of your home. He saw an open door and confidently walked in to see Carmy holding his granddaughter. Her eyes were wide as she furious sucked on a tie-dye pacifier, “Oh hey Marty. Y/N isn’t here..” Carmy trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how much you’d told your dad. 

“That’s Mr. Y/L/N to you, Carmen. Now, give me my granddaughter and start explaining what you did to my buggy,” he said authoritatively. Carmy sighed and handed Wolf off to him.

“Hi, gorgeous girl. You look just like your mommy- why is your mommy not here? Did your daddy do something stupid?” 

Carmy swallowed as he stood before Marty awkwardly, “We’ve been fighting… she has some fuckin’ postpartum thing. I don’t know- I wanted things to go back to the way they were, and I guess I pushed her too far. I didn’t hurt her- at least this time… she was ignoring me, and I grabbed her wrists, but this time, she fell down the stairs and ran off. She isn’t answering my calls, so I don’t know where she is.” 

Marty didn’t believe him for a dam second. “Be so happy I’m holding my granddaughter right now, or I’d beat the crap out of you, Carmen.”

Carmy nodded, knowing it was true, “Look, Mar- Mr. Y/L/N, I love Y/N more than I could ever. I’ve been killin’ myself over missing Wolf’s birth since she came out. I fuckin’ failed as a father and as a husband. I- I don’t deserve your daughter; I never have, and I never will. I just wanna talk to her. If she wants to leave, I’ll sign whatever- I just wanna see my daughter.” Carmy swallowed softly, suppressing the urge to cry.

~

Carmy dug through his closet that morning as Natalie sat on his bed, holding Wolf on her lap. “So, how do you want today to go?” she asked, wiping Wolf’s mouth with a tissue. Carmy huffed and pulled out a blue button-up shirt from the back of his closet. He was unsure if it would fit, but it was the ‘most court-appropriate,’ as Pete would say. 

“I dunno. Guess what were doin’ now?” he chuckled as he threw the shirt to the bottom of the closet still on the hanger. “Fuck it- I haven’t seen my wife in fuckin’ weeks. I’m fuckn’ tired of this shit. I want her to come home. I don’t wanna get divorced and fuckin’ share custody. I want her here, with Wolf, with me- as a fuckin’ family.” he scoffed as he moved to sit next to Natalie. “It took a year and a half to even get pregnant, and then I went and fucked everything up.” 

Natalie put her free hand on his shoulder and smiled sympathetically, “I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now, Carmen, but I think if you stand there and speak from the heart, everything will work out.” 

Carmy shrugged and took Wolf from her lap. She laughed at the feeling of Carmy’s hands wrapping around her waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound, “You’re gonna have so much fun with Auntie Sugar… be a good girl, okay?” 

Carmy’s question was met with happy gurgling and a gummy smile. He smiled and kissed her before handing her back to Natalie, “Well, which me luck.” Carmy grinned as he excused himself.

~

When you entered the courtroom, Carmy felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t realize how long it had been since he’d last seen you. You’d changed your hairstyle from what it had been to a shoulder-length bob; you also dyed it darker. Carmy swallowed when you took your jacket off. He hadn’t seen you in person for weeks, and as much as he tried, he could tear his eyes away from your chest. 

The judge called the hearing to start and began asking questions concerning the nature of the divorce. The words went through Carmy’s head, but he didn’t hear them. He was preoccupied with you. He noticed how you picked at your cuticles and kept crossing and uncrossing your legs and the glossy look in your eyes. You were on the verge of tears throughout the hearing, this was the last thing you’d wanted to do. Having your marriage dissolve. 

“Mrs. Berzatto, do you agree to the laid out terms?” you were brought back to reality when the judge had asked you the question. You looked at your lawyer who urged you to answer, you swallowed and finally looked at Carmy. When your eyes met his, everything flooded back. Meeting him at some bar all those years ago, your first date when he spilled both his and your wine glasses on you. His horribly awkward apologizes led him to info dump of how to get red wine stains out of cotton which led to the deeper conversation of how he’d been collecting denim with his brother since he was a teenager. Memories of laughing together, him attempting to help you with your homework, cooking dinner together at 3 in the morning, and just loving and being loved by him flood your mind. Being with Carmy was like being in a rom-com from the early 2000s.

“Y/N?” your lawyer asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to say something, but no words could come out. “I-uh.” You stammered, “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out before quickly walking out of the courtroom, ignoring your lawyer's call after you. 

Carmy watched you hurry out of the room and then turned his attention to the judge. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the door. “Be my guest, Mr. Berzatto.” The judge exasperated. Carmy nodded and quickly walked out of the courtroom to find you.

You were sitting on a bench just outside the courthouse with your face in your hands. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly walked to the bench. As he sat next to you, he heard you sigh. “Hi, Carm,” you said softly. 

“How’s you know it was me?” he asked playfully. He heard you scoff and watched you push your hands through your hair. 

“You always smell like smoke, spearmint, and old spice,” you answered, looking up at him. He chuckled, and you watched him adjust into a more comfortable position.

“You look good. How have you been?” Carmy asked as he turned to face you. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “Biting the inside of your cheek… am I making you nervous?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Really shitty… I’ve been absolutely dreading this day all week.” you laughed as you finally looked up at him. “Who schedules a divorce hearing on a Friday afternoon? Sorta a weekend killer, isn’t it?” 

Carmy laughed at the sentiment, “A bit. For what it counts… I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been thinking a lot and…” you took another breath as you pushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear. I don’t know what I want to do.” 

Carmy’s eyebrows knit together as he shot you a confused look, “Do for what?” 

“Obviously, I don’t know what I want for dinner.” You sarcastically joked, “I don’t know if I want to get divorced.”

“What brought that on?” Carmy asked shifting in his seat moving closer to you. You copied the movement and thought for a moment before explaining. 

“Wolf, in all honesty. I look at her and I see you.” you laughed, “I don’t know if you know but Natalie sends me at least three pictures of the two of you together everyday.” Carmy chuckled at that, he hadn’t asked Natalie to do that but he appreciated it in the moment. “I don’t want her to have divorced parents and I-” you paused for a second “I don’t want to get divorced.” 

“You don’t want to get divorced?” Carmy repeated, making sure he’d heard you correctly.

“I don’t want to get divorced.” You said again. The comment left Carmy dumbfounded, “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I guess I realized you are sorry for all the shit you did. I said some really mean shit to you, and while it was somewhat deserved, I’ve been reflecting a lot, and- I don’t wanna get divorced. Do you?”

Carmy laughed at the obscurity of the question: “You initiated this baby. When I asked you to marry me, I meant it till death.” You sniffled at Carmy’s words and reached out for him. Carmy grinned and moved to hug you. Having you in his arms felt foreign, not in a bad way, but in an unfamiliar way. 

It wasn’t an overnight ‘get back together’. It took work, and the two of you were ready to do it.

[fourstarsoutofnine]

hey there, if it's not too much trouble i was wondering if i could request legend comforting reader who suffers from depression and is having a bad day?

love your work btw, i think you have a wonderful writing style! hope you're having a good day 🩷

A/N:Yeah! Sorry this took so long, I’ve had crazy bad writers block lately, you have no idea 😓I hope you like this and it helped, again sorry it took ages🫶

Bad day.

The veteran understood what you were going through more than most of the chain, probably. After Marin, especially. Whether it was from genetic, stemmed from something—it didn’t matter. He understood. And he could tell easier than most when it was taking its toll worse than other days. Today was one such day. It was hard to get up, hard to get moving, hard to do anything.

And it wasn’t that he really took pity on you. He knew you were strong and could push through it. You were a warrior if he’d ever seen one. The toughest battles are often ones no one knows you’re fighting, he could certainly attest to that. But he also knew those battles were ones you needn’t go through alone if someone knew and could do something. He was both such of those. He knew and could do something about it.

He walked up to you as you sat by the fire, staring into it, completely lost in thought. He held his hand out and you looked up confusedly.

“Hey. Come with me.”

“..? Okay..?” You stood with some help after taking his hand. He didn’t drop yours as he led you away from camp.

“Vet, where are we going?” You asked exasperatedly and exhausted.

“You’ll see. It’s. Not too much further. Just look around while we walk, it’s a nice forest…” he knew that sometimes being outside could help—but it wasn’t just the vitamins sunlight provided that aided you. It was the fresh air, the appreciation, the getting out of your own head. Focusing on something like that cleared your thoughts like a sweeper on a floor. You sighed and looked around. You supposed it did look nice.. birch trees, the birds singing, the wind making the remaining leaves in the trees bristle together, a few falling. You did love this time of year. The brilliant colors of the leaves gave the trees one last hoorah before they fell to their deaths, to be stepped on by the living. A silent and often unnoticed homage to the mental state of many, as well as a gentle understanding from Mother Nature herself, as even she gets seasonal depression.

The veteran led you to a clearing with a beautiful pond. He spoke up. “…I get what you’re going through, you know… I understand more than you think…” you finally understood why he teased you far less than the others. Even if you knew his teasing was a way to show he cared and loved, the way he showed that to you was to leave you be. Let you sleep in a few extra hours while he stalled for time. Save you some of his food when the champion made your favorite. He was a kind soul. It was just boxed in and hidden. You supposed you were as well, in a way. You smiled a bit and he began to speak again. “And you know.. if you need someone to talk to, I got you. We all do. Or a distraction. Which we also have.” He picked up a flat pebble and skipped it across the pond. He found another and handed it to you. “Give it a try. Kinda… spin it in your fingers when you throw it. It’s the spin that makes it skip.” Like this.” He grabbed one for himself and showed you the motions slowly before he threw his. It skipped a good few times. You tried yourself and it skipped. It made you smile wider. “I did it…!”

“There y’go.” He cracked a smile. “See? Not so hard.” The two of you spent a while skipping rocks and talking about different things, whether that was what was bogging you down or things to distract you was up to you. He led you lead the conversation in any direction you wanted it to go in. He was just there to be someone to lean on. He knew the importance of having someone there when you needed them most and he was proud to be someone like that. He’d do it anytime, a thousand times over.

[rainydaydally]

Steve Randel angst oneshot!!

For: @pookiepiss69 !

Warnings: Getting jumped, blood/coughing up blood, cussing, just usual outsiders stuffs.

It was a dark night- the middle of November. The sun had set hours ago, or atleast to Steve it feels like it did. Seasonal depression has been kicking his ass recently, and he really has no pep to do anything like he usually does. He’s been working at the DX for a long while today, sipping on a milkshake and waiting for some sort of customer. He would have preferred a pretty girl to come in, buying a cola like most do. Unfortunately the girls only go to the DX when Sodapop was working there, and he was not there today. Now, Steve wasn’t ugly, but he was apparently not cute enough to get tips like Soda did. But he didn’t want to be jealous of his best friend- Soda’s life wasn’t even that good, just his looks were. But, he cant help but wish he had his looks, atleast. His wide dark brown eyes, his dark golden hair, and his contagious smile and charisma.

Steve is flipping a coin, lost in his thoughts of what he wished he looked like, when the bell to the DX’s door jingled. There was about 10 minutes left until closing, so he hoped the person wouldn’t take long. It wasn’t a greaser that had entered, but he wasn’t the type to start fights for no reason, so he just looked up and then went back to flipping his coin. When the soc was finished finding whatever he needed, he went up to the counter. The blonde soc bought a pack of cigarettes and a beer can- both the most expensive type you can buy. His blue eyes were eyeing Steve, giving him dirty looks as Steve took his money and gave him his change.

When the soc walked out the door, Steve watched him out of lack of better things to do. He went into a car- (a chevrolet, Steve noticed) with about 3 other socs in it. He watched as they drove away, and then he checked the time, about 2 minutes left until closing. He does the regular routine of closing the DX, and started his walk back to his house- or maybe the Curtis house.

Steve was walking down the street, barely far from the DX, when he sees a car parked in an empty lot next to the DX. It was too dark to see anything, like which car it was or what color, so he just kept walking. As he was walking by the empty lot, the car doors opened. Suddenly, Steve felt increasingly uncomfortable, as if someone was watching him. He reaching into his pocket, and pulled out an old switchblade Two-Bit gave him.

Before Steve knows it, the blonde soc from the DX is pinning him down with his forearm on his back, and Steve’s stomach hits the ground, causing him to cough loudly. Steve kicks his foot up, kicking the soc’s shin with every amount of strength he can muster. He sits up as the soc falls into a sitting position. “You are gonna fucking get it, grease.” Then, two other soc’s- one with red hair and the other with brown hair- help the blonde up. The fourth soc- with black hair and deep brown eyes, punches Steve straight in the nose, causing Steve’s head to fall back and hit the pavement again. The red head and the brunette soc begin to kick Steve’s sides, while the black haired and blonde one pin his arms to the ground. Steve takes his switch blade and practically flails his arm everywhere, cutting the blonde’s arm. “FUCK! God, fuck you, you piece of shit greaser!” He yells with venom is his voice, walking backwards and clutching his wrist. One soc, he cant tell which, begins punching Steve in the stomach with all the strength he has- just pure bitter hatred pouring out onto Steve. Steve desperately tries to sit up, but when he does, the black haired one kicks his chin and he his head smashes into the pavement again. His stomach is covered in bruises and blood dripping out of his mouth, as his eyes glazs up and tears threaten to spill.

When Steve doesnt get up to fight anymore, the socs then run away, getting into their fancy chevrolet and driving away quickly. Steve gently sits up, blinking slowly. He is sure they cracked practically half of his ribs. He turns onto his side and coughs up more blood onto the pavement, before grabbing his switchblade off the ground, putting it in his pocket, and beginning to dizzly walk somewhere. He thinks for a moment, and tries to come up with anywhere to go. What he didn’t realize is that he doesn’t HAVE anywhere to go.

…

Read on AO3!

[innwaitress]

a/n: it's here, the moment you've been waiting for...

genshin characters inncorrect quotes pt. 2!!!!

y/n: I found a note in one of my old word .docs that said Note to self: Get revenge on childe.  y/n: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for.  y/n: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it.  childe: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either.  y/n: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though.  childe: Well, whatever I did, I  probably deserved it.  y/n: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

aether: Isn’t a bit dangerous?  y/n: aether, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.  aether: … 

aether: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.  aether: ...  y/n: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves in the way home. 

y/n: Who the fuck-  zhongli: Language!  y/n: Whom the fuck-  Zhongli: No.

y/n: Are you having another depressive episode?  xiao: A depressive episode?  xiao: I'm having a depressive series and we're just on season one.

y/n: Hopefully yelan has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings.  yelan: Oh, shut up and die y/n.

y/n: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!  beidou:*Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

y/n: I think I'm falling for you.  Kujou Sara: Then get up.

itto: *running towards y/n with open arms*  y/n: *moves out of the way*  itto: Hey, why'd you move?!  y/n: I thought you were going to attack me.  itto: I was going to hug you!  y/n: Why would you hug me?  itto: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

y/n: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset?  thoma: No, I said "y/n, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

yae miko: I have an idea!  y/n: Does it involve breaking the law?  yae miko: By now don’t you think that’s a given?  y/n: I was just trying to be optimistic.  yae miko: Don’t bother.

barbara: y/n is not a morning person. Or a night person. There’s really only about seven minutes a day you are fun to be around.  y/n: The best part is you never know when they’re coming.

keqing: Remain CALM! *slaps y/n multiple times*

kaeya: Can I have your number?  y/n, visibly texting: I don't have a phone.

ninnguang: Are you ready to commit?  y/n: Like, a crime or a relationship?

ei: *plays shreksophone*  ei: Woo.  ei: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity.  y/n: ...Genius coping mechanism my friend

 y/n: Why are you drinking? rosaria: I drink when I'm depressed.  y/n: But you're always drinking?  Rosaria: *smug grin*

y/n: Can you keep a secret? 

yoiymia: Well, I'm good until I meet the next person. 

Computer: Please enter a password.  chongyun: *types in y/n*  Computer: Your password is too weak.  chongyun: How fucking DARE YOU-

y/n: Love makes people do stupid things.  xingqiu I love everything!  y/n: That explains a lot. 

y/n: Can I bother you for a second?  diluc: You're always bothering me, but go ahead.

y/n: Bro-  kazuha: No, no, hold up, rewind.  kazuha: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro?? 

hu tao: Happy October 32nd! Second Halloween!  y/n: That doesn't exist.  hu tao: Not with that attitude.

lisa: y/n, I rebuke thee! I rebuke thee!  y/n: Rebuke? Is that a word?  lisa: You have all invoked my fury! You will all pay recompense for your transgressions!  y/n: What, you got like a word-a-day calendar or something? 

y/n: So what do you have planned for the future?  xiangling: Lunch.  y/n: No, like long term.  xiangling: Oh...um, dinner?

Lumine: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.  y/n: Those are wanted posters! scaramouche: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.  y/n: Was that place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?

y/n, watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!  shenhe: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

[winchester-reload]

A letter to my Tumblr friends~

I don’t like getting personal- ever. Not online and not even really in-person (it’s actually an issue lol) I don’t want to come in here and dump any of my crap on any of you. But I feel like it’s a little necessary for this post, so bear with me while I rip the band-aid off really quick.

I rallied after the finale. Briefly - idk, maybe the anger helped, but I’m back to being pretty depressed about this today. And, I know, this is gonna come at me in waves. But today, today I just want to turn all the colors off somehow and walk around my apartment in black and white listening to instrumental music as blurry as Sam’s wife. I keep thinking about how reasons XYZ were apparently why Team Free Will didn’t deserve(?!?!?!?!)  to be happy and so I want to extrapolate and tell myself I don’t deserve to be happy either. Because, even though I always try to come on here and be positive, uplift people if I can. Show them how thankful I am that they’re here--that YOU, reading this, are-- the reality is I’m as much of a depressed mess of a human as you might expect an artist/writer to be (saying hi to all my fellow Dean-identifiers out there: heeeeeyyyy!) 

I feel things too deeply and too personally, and when I say I’m heartbroken, you can believe that means I am fucking heartbroken. 

This is a rough ride. One I feel especially ill-prepared for when the entirety of season 15 was building up to something that ultimately would get struck down by some of the shittiest, bootleg censorship a network could pull together. Which is why I also feel particularly guilty for being one of the people hyping the finale so hard. Supernatural burned me before. I knew better. I’m sorry about that.

But.

All of that aside, the truth is, the network was always our biggest Big Bad, since the beginning, and in light of recent (albeit) rumors and glaring actor silence, just the idea that the show tried so hard to give us Dean and Cas really means something to me. It means everything to me, actually. Because the thing is, Sam, Dean, and Cas can’t fight this Big Bad, we have to. And if the network won’t give them a happy ending on their platform then we owe it to TFW to give them a billion of ‘em on ours. So this is my love letter to you. Mourn what we lost on the show but don’t mourn the loss of Dean and Cas. Of Sam and Eileen, even. Go Tulpa them back into existence. Keep the fire for them burning. Bury episode 15x20 in a mountain of fic and art.

So, I guess, I want you to know that I’ll be here helping. I truly loved Dean and Cas when I got here 10 years ago and I truly love them still. I don’t think my heart can leave them. Bad ending or not.

*Oh, and just as an FYI I will deflect that we ever had this honest conversation re: me in the future. You don’t need to come say anything - in fact, please don’t. I will get profoundly awkward and no one wants that. Just put it in your pocket and move on with your day<3 And also know that I feel better already. I just needed to document the moment, I think.*

Please also consider donating to the Trevor Project

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season One

Part Twenty-One - (Funk) An Ode To Punch Jesse In The Face

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: A week filled with depression travelled around the group. Soon spread to the cheerleaders and their coach. The only way to rectify it? Singing apparently.

Word Count: 8,378

WARNINGS: Argument, wanting a fight, horror movie

-----

Your sister had grabbed you. Literally grabbed your arm and dragged you to the auditorium, looking worry stricken, as some of your friends followed behind.

Once you had entered the large room, you headed towards the rest of your gathered friends, intending to stand beside Quinn like you were found to do a lot recently. But instead was stopped by Santana. The girl tugging for you to sit beside her upon the wall everyone was leaning against. Quinn watched on as you jumped up beside the girl, brows scrunched and a pang of jealousy shot through her. Not liking how close Santana was to you. How easily she was able to get you to stay by her side.

"Ah, God! What is it with people and pulling me today?"

Your eyes focused upon the people gathered upon the stage, all decked out in black and blue.

Carmel High Colours

"Jesse?" your sister asked with a scoff. When the boy stepped forward, away from the crowd, "What are you doing up there with them?"

"I've transferred back to Carmel High, Rachel," he stated smugly.

'Oh, I've gotta get some snakes'

"I'm sorry that it's come to this, but you guys were awful to me. You never accepted me. You never listened to my clearly superior ideas."

'And a bag big enough to fit him in'

"Why here in our auditorium?" Finn asked, stepping forward.

"The blogs and chat rooms say that we're finished and that you guys are ripe to topple us. We just wanted to show you a little something that we came up with a few days ago to see if you agree with that assessment."

"Oh, please God no, I love this song," you mumbled to yourself as you heard the opening tune sound out through the room.

Ooh, let's go

Steve walks warily down the street

With his brim pulled way down low

Ain't no sound

But the sound of his feet

Machine guns ready to go

Are you ready, hey?

Are you ready for this

Are you hangin'

Oh the edge of your seat?

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat

Yeah

You glared at the group so easily using your school's stage for their performance.

If you had the ability to kill someone with one look of your eyes, they would be up in flames.

Jesse, more so.

You kinda wished it was true.

Another one bites the dust

Another one bites the dust

How do you think I'm gonna get along

Without you when you're gone?

You took me for everything that I had

And kicked me out on my own

Are you happy, are you satisfied?

How long can you stand the heat?

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat

Look out

You hated to admit it, but their performance was starting to fill you with some sort of anxious dread.

But you tried to think critically.

Push that feeling down. Knowing that it was just them trying to psych you out before the big competition. And you weren't about to let them win without a fight.

Another one bites the dust

The girl that held on to Jesse's waist gave a scoffed laugh once the performance was over.

"Thanks for letting us borrow your auditorium, guys. It's quaint."

"Unlike your personality," you shot back.

'Where was the nearest lake?'

Now making your way back to the choir room, with your down-trodden team, Artie began talking.

"It's a Carmel High tradition. They psych out the competition a few weeks before the big show. They call it a "funkification", meaning they show us what they've got, and we spiral into a deep, black funk."

"And is them breaking someone's heart normal, too?" you asked, voice hard and telling just how much you wanted to smack Jesse in the face right now as you walked with your arm thrown across your sister's shoulders. Mercedes, rubbing her back.

"No," the boy replied slowly, "That's new."

"Yeah, yeah, we used to do the same things to the other football teams." Finn nodded. "Not the heartbreaking thing, though. We used to try to get inside their head before the big game, pull little pranks to intimidate them."

"Yeah, well, the difference was, our football team sucked. Those guys are golden."

"It's not just your football team that sucked, buddy." You shook your head at the boy.

"Come on," Kurt began, "Keep your heads up, guys. It's gonna take more than that to get us into a funk," the boy trailed off, discouraged, once he stepped foot into the trashed choir room, tanking in its state.

It looked like streamers for a party.

Thick streamers.

For a very sad party.

'Okay. Mood starting to get worse now'

"I don't think this is good for the environment."

---

You were... semi-useless as the team cleaned up the room.

But at least you weren't as bad as Santana, who was just standing around watching as everyone else did all of the work, filing her nails.

Brittany, coming in as a close second, along with Rachel, with the way she was trying to roll the toilet paper back onto its tube. Your sister, doing the same but around her hand.

But you were fine coming in at third place of the 'not helping' crew.

There you were, spinning around in place, arms down at your sides, as you gathered up all of the toilet paper around you, having it wrap around your body. Encasing yourself in the stuff.

"I feel so violated," Tina said as she heaved arm fulls of the paper towards the bin Artie was manning, "It's like someone broke into our home."

"Look, it was just a lame little prank. And the fact that they're trying to get to us means that we got them spooked," your teacher reasoned.

"Uh hu, Mr Schue." Mercedes came over next, dumping her own mound of paper into the trash. "They aren't afraid of anything. That number they did was fantastic. You know, which doesn't make any sense. They had all that equipment. How did they even get in?"

"Well, I gave them all keys."

Enter Sue.

Followed by a few classmen.

As soon as you saw the woman, you split yourself away from the toilet paper, with one single jumping-jack. It fell to the floor in a heap. Only a few stray pieces clinging onto your body.

"Helped them do a soundcheck over the weekend."

"Oh, well, of course, you did."

"Hey, this way, fellas." She directed the students towards the far wall of the choir room. "Let's punch out this wall here. That'll open up the space a little bit."

"Sue, what are you doing?"

"I can't talk to you now, William. Drafting class is helping me redecorate around here."

"It already is," you joked, gesturing around you to the paper still in every corner of the room.

"You see. I have Nationals over the weekend, and I expect to return with a comically large first-place trophy for which I have absolutely no room in my trophy case," the coach explained, "As soon as you hurry up and lose at Regionals, this choir room will become my official. Trophy. Annes." She then turned back to the students helping her. "You know what it has to look like? Elvis's gold record room at Graceland. Except I'll be wanting far fewer morbidly obese white women waddling around and crying."

"Sue, get out of my room."

She ignored your advancing teacher's words. Instead, choosing to address the team.

"Gle Clubbers, for those of you whose hearing has not been damaged by massive doses of Accutane, listen up." She pointed to her ear, in the other arm held a large trophy. "In a few weeks, Glee Club will be finished. Now, how do I know that? Well, I recently checked the odds with my Vegas bookie, who told me that you're 40-to-1 underdogs at regionals."

"Like that truly means anything other than we could win people some big bucks."

"You are going to lose, and your dreams will be crushed."

"Sue, can I see your trophy?"

"Sure, Will. Hope and dream," she said, letting the man take the cheerleading award from her hands as if allowing him to hold it was some form of charity.

To her.

You suspected it was.

The trophy, soon enough, was smashed into pieces. Flying from where it connected against the wall and across the shiny floor.

The class jumped.

Especially the blonde girl, holding a broom, by your side.

You being the only one to pump their fists with vigour and yell out, "Yes!"

"We dropped your trophy, Sue."

"Hell yeah, we did."

That just made you so happy.

"You know, for me, trophies are like herpes. You can try to get rid of them, but they just keep coming. You know why? Sue Sylvester has hourly flare-ups of burning, itchy, highly contagious talent."

"Gross."

"Enjoy your last few days here. This room is mine."

Watching as she and the students she led into the room left, you exclaimed excitedly, "Let's go kill the rest of her trophies!"

---

You were sitting in the chair behind Quinn, talking with Matt, when Mr Schue came into the room the next day.

"All right, guys, today I want to talk to you about regrets. Who has some?"

Rachel, who was sat at the piano, laying her head upon her bent arm, rose up slightly as she answered the man's question.

"Giving my heart to Jesse, just to have it crushed like the stage floor of a performance at 'Stomp'."

Quinn was next to tell her regret. "Thinking "trust me" was a sensible birth control option."

"Letting Rachel convince me not to put Jess in a bag filled with snakes and throw him into a lake. Like the Romans did."

"We all have them." Mr Schue nodded. "I just finalized my divorce."

"Oh, so the crazy lady's finally gone?"

"I regret living in a relationship that wasn't working, letting her out me in these deep funks and not fighting back."

"Besides creeping us out, why are you telling us this?" Santana asked, from where she lay across three of the maroon chairs at the back of the room.

"Because if we lose to Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals, none of us are gonna regret it. We will have given it our best shot, and we won't look back. But we will regret letting them get the best of us before the competition, which is why we need to hit them back just like they hit us."

"So, you want us to T.P. their choir room?" Quinn asked slowly.

The man nodded his head from side to side.

"Whatever the better, cooler version of that is, like, uh." He gasped softly when an idea popped into his head. "Maybe, maybe we should steal their school statue."

You looked at the man, confused.

Was your teacher really trying to help his students pull a prank on another high school?

There's got to be something in his teaching contract against that, right?

"Their school statue is a giant bronze of a great white shark eating a seal pup," Kurt spoke up from beside Mercedes, "It weighs three tons."

"Awesome." Matt nudged you. "What? It is," you then added, "I'm still down for us doing it Roman style."

Not even gracing your "suggestion" with a reply, Mr Schuester carried on.

"Okay, well, how about this one?"

You rolled your eyes as your teacher continued on with his idiotic prank suggestions.

Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Santana, still laying upon the seats, smiling at you. She raised her hand, waving a pen between her fingers knowingly. You nodded at her before turning to face the front of the class once more.

You were still trying to get her to admit if she actually thought about someone else when she was with you.

And if so. Who?

---

"Whatever it is, my answers no."

"How do you do that?" Finn asked as you closed the door of your locker, knowing they were there before either of them even spoke. Turning to Puck, he asked him, "How do they do that?"

"Listen, Y/N-"

"I thought I just said 'no'?"

"We want you to help us prank Carmel High," Finn said, quickly before you could cut him off like you did Puck.

Now that... that caught your attention.

"I'm listening. What have you got in mind?"

"We're gonna slash their tires," Puck said, nodding his head with that arrogant smirk he does.

"Yeah..." you drew the word out, then shook your head, "No. I'd rather not get suspended, thanks."

"We won't get suspended." You could tell the boy had rolled his eyes just by the tone of his voice, as they both were quick to follow you down the hall.

"Well, then I'm not about to pay for the damages." They had to stop walking, suddenly, when you span to face them. "You boys have fun. But count me out of this one. I ain't having that on my record."

---

Everyone, it seems, was even more so depressed during the next Glee Club meeting.

Finn and Puck all pouty after having been caught slashing Vocal Adrenaline's tires. And were now forced to get jobs to pay them back.

You were sat beside Quinn, and like your sister, you had your feet propped up upon the chair in front of you. Arms crossed over your chest, the blondes head almost laying on your shoulder. It only raising when your teacher strode through the door, heading straight for the whiteboard to write something across it.

" Funk. " The man turned to face the class. "Use it in a sentence. Come on! Rachel?" he prompted when no one spoke.

"This cheese smells funky."

"That's because it's "fromunda" cheese."

You cringed to yourself at the disgusting thing the boy just said.

How women like him, you have no clue.

"Shut it, Puckerman!"

"You tell him, Rach." You nodded for your sister.

"Okay, okay." Mr Schue rose his hands, trying to keep the peace. "I was thinking more along the lines of, "Vocal Adrenaline has sure put us all in a funk"."

"I'm so depressed I've worn the same outfit twice this week," Kurt said softly.

"What is I told you I knew how we could shove it right back down their throats?"

"I'd say, "you shouldn't be thinking that way about minors"."

Quinn turned to you. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"New Directions is about to make their funk the P-funk. We are gonna get funked up. The only way to do that is if we beat them at Regionals. Vocal Adrenaline has never once done a funk number. They're a machine, a collective, synthesized, soulless beat."

"Not helping here, Mr Schue."

"Funk is soul meets anger. It's passion, and its emotion. And Vocal Adrenaline doesn't perform with any."

Glancing over to Quinn, you could tell that she was intrigued by what the man was saying. Spotting her nod her head softly.

"I want you guys to turn McKinley High into, Funkytown," he finished by singing the last word.

"You want us to play Lipps Inc. throughout the school like Sue did with Madonna?"

"You guys can relax," Mercedes told the team, "I got this one covered."

"Cool," Mr Schue nodded.

But that only got the girl by your side more worked up. So much so for her to call out to the man.

"Hold on a second. I- I want a chance to get funky, too."

You had to make sure you held in your snort or risk getting hurt by the blonde. Managing it -only just- but a smile still drew across your face, all the while your friends laughed.

Mercedes looked over at her. "Good one, Quill. It even sounds funny when you say it."

Your smile tightened at that.

You had to admit that was true. However, you also thought it was quite adorable.

"You said funk was about soul and anger," she slowly spoke to the teacher, ignoring Mercedes and her words entirely, "I have plenty of both. Look at me. Look at my life. I'm furious !"

"I can see that." You nodded. "I'd be furious, too. But, you know, if you're that mad, I can just hold Puck down, and you can-" You cut yourself off, miming stomping onto the boy, with your risen leg, as you felt him glare holes into the back of your skull.

Quinn breathed humorously through her nose, shaking her head at your joke.

"Let's be honest. When white people try to be funky, you end up with 'K.C. and the Sunshine Band'," Mercedes said with a laugh.

"I lobe 'Boogie Shoes'." Artie smiled from beside her.

You nodded. "This is a pretty good song."

"Mercedes' racism aside-"

"That's not really- Okay..." you trailed off, knowing she wasn't listening to you, as Mercedes rolled her eyes at Quinn.

"-I will have something prepared tomorrow."

"All right." Mr Schue slapped his hands together, then pointed at the girl sitting beside you, "Quinn goes first."

"You want me to walk you to class?" you asked as everyone left, and Mr Schuester called for Rachel to meet him in his office.

"Please."

---

Before you knew it, it was the next Glee Club lesson, and you were all waiting to see what Quinn would do.

"Okay." Mr Schue clapped from the front of the class. "Quinn, it's your day to show us your funky side. So, take it away."

"For some of us," the girl started before she left her seat, "Just simply getting to class takes a little bit longer. When you're pregnant, you're responsible for two lives, and you're walking down the hallway oppressed by the man."

'Oh... God...'

"Hearing people call you fat."

Kurt leaned over to where you sat between him and Santana.

"Why did you let her do this?" he whispered.

"Uh, first of all, she's a woman, not a dog. I can't control her. And secondly, she didn't tell me what she had planned... which, now I see why."

"Sometimes it hurts." You had to stop your laugh at her little foot stomp, just as a gang of other pregnant women streamed through the open door. "Sometimes, you have to stop."

'Oh, you're telling me'

'Every five minutes, she needs to take a break from walking'

"And hold that precious life and say "no"."

Oh, so she didn't mean it in the literal sense.

... okay.

"This is offensive," Artie stated, "Who are these girls?"

"We're the 'Unwed Mothership Connection'-"

"The what?" you asked, then turned to Puck, who sat on the other side of Santana, "Did you get those girls pregnant, too?"

"-And that's what we're here to sing about," Quinn finished the lead-up to her song before Puckerman could shoot something back at you.

This is a man's world

'Oh, God' You rested your head in your hand. 'This is gonna be painful to watch'

This is a man's world

But it wouldn't be nothin'

Nothin'

Without a woman of a girl

You see

Man made the cars

To take us over the road

Man made the train

To carry the heavy load

You leant over Santana's lap, unseeing to the blonde girl singing watching you. Hand holding on to the smooth skin of her leg, to brace yourself, all to whisper your advice over to the buzz haired boy.

"Better sleep with one eye open for a while, buddy."

Man made the boat for the water

Like Noah made the ark

"What the fuck are they doing?" you asked yourself in a quiet whisper. Eyes unmoving from the pregnant girls circling their heavy swollen bellies around one anothers.

This is a man's

Man's, man's world

But it wouldn't be nothin'

Or a girl

Quinn shot over a glare when she, once again, spotted you leaning over Santana to talk to Puck.

"Sleep with both eyes open."

You startled in your seat, when the girls began thrusting their pregnant bellies into the air, putting emphasis on them.

"That cannot be safe."

Man thinks about the little baby girls

And the baby boys

Thankfully the girls stopped soon after they started.

Which was lucky for you.

Because you thought you were about to go into a panic-induced heart attack because of it.

And after man make everything

Everything he can

"Oh, my God," you breathed, "It's a pregnant can-can."

Santana and Kurt had to hide their snorts beside you.

Do you know the man make money?

He make money

To buy

From other men

To but from other men

This is a man's world

But it wouldn't have been nothin'

Nothin'

Not one little thing

Nothin'

Without a woman of a girl

He's lost

In bitterness

He's lost

Lost somewhere out there

In loneliness

Everyone stepped down to hug the girl and show her some love after a short round of applause.

All but Mercedes, that is.

Who was still sat in her seat, arms crossed and an 'you've-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me' face on.

Oh, this was gonna be "fun".

—

If you thought that day was nuts, you definitely weren't expecting a day like this one.

With your backpack flung over your shoulder, you strode through the halls of your school, fully intending on arriving to class on time today, like you were most days.

But you were derailed when you spotted a weeping Santana. Her hair was a mess and down from her usual ponytail, still wearing her Cheerios uniform and with a box of tissues pressed against her chest.

Your eyebrows flexed in the middle at her... well, her everything.

"San?" you asked, stepping closer to the girl.

Only to hear her softly whimper, "Daddy. Daddy."

Eyes widening in shock, you jolted back from her slightly. Hastily looking over your shoulder to see if you could spot anyone there who could fit the bill, only to come up empty.

Turning back to the unusually emotional girl, you proceeded to ask, "Is something wrong with your dad?" She softly shook her head. "Were you calling me that?" you then asked, pointing to your chest. Only to get another shake of the girl's head in reply.

Curiously watching after her as she pushed away from the cream coloured lockers, still sobbing as she moved, raising her arm beside her head out of pure devastation. Walking until she reached her destination, just across the hall, at the small cornered wall, sliding down it until she sat cross-legged on the floor.

That was when you noticed the dishevelled appearances of all the other cheerleaders. The only one who didn't seem to be affected by any of this, being Kurt.

You were quick to crouch down in front of her, placing a hand upon one of her cocked knees.

"Santana, are you okay?"

"Y/N?"

At the call of your name, you looked behind you to find Mr Schue looking down at you both. Wearing the same look of curious worry etched across his face as it was yours.

"What's wrong with Santana?"

"I have absolutely no idea." You shook your head at the man, hand coming out to reiterate your point.

"Well..." he trailed off, "You keep an eye on Santana. I'm gonna try and find out what's going on."

You nodded your head at the man just before he could take off and ask the only sane-looking cheerleader his questions.

Sighing softly, you turned your attention back to the still crying Santana. Raising your palm and placing it lightly upon her cheek, bringing her to look you in your eyes.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, okay?"

"No," she blubbered with a shake of her head.

"Why not?"

You knew with the way that she just broke down into more sobs, pulling another tissue from the box now in her lap, that you weren't about to get any clear answers from her while she was in this state.

"Okay, come on, you," you muttered, reaching under her armpits to heave her up from the school floor. Only gaining weak whimpers of protests, but still, she never struggled against your hold. Allowing you to pull her into your side and start helping her to walk down the hall, "Let's find Brittany. Brittany will make you feel better."

You sure fucking hoped Brittany would help her feel better.

—

Brittany did not make her feel better.

Finding Brittany only gave you two weepy cheerleaders to take care of.

Which is, exactly, what you were you walked into the choir room later that day. Two girl's leaning into either of your sides, one with a backwards uniform. Helping direct them towards some free seats, as Finn spoke to your teacher. Obviously dressed for a performance, matching with Puck.

"Mr Schue, Puck and I would like to show the class the true meaning of funk with a little help from our special guest, Mercedes."

You would have joined in with the light applause and cheering the girl got, if it weren't for the two girls leaning into your sides. Even as they sat in their own chairs, apparently needing you to remain upright.

Puckerman saw this and smirked over at you, wiggling his brows at the girls curling into your neck, obviously thinking you were in for the time of your life later that day.

And while yes, you would never say no to that if given the chance. You were still disgusted by the boy, given the girl's states at the time, which you clearly showed with an intense glare and a cock of your head. Making him quickly add on to the introduction of their performance as Mercedes walked in between the two boys.

"Fasten your seat belts, people. It's gonna be a funky ride."

You rolled your eyes at his words before the music started playing.

Yeah

Can you feel it, baby?

Come on, swing it

Com on, swing it

'What?'

Come on, swing it

Come on, swing it

Once again, a deathly glare overtook your face, directed at Puck. Silently warning him not to come any closer, as he was flinging his arms around like that, looking like a shitty boxer.

Yo, it's about that time

To bring forth the rhythm

And the rhyme

Imma get mine so get yours

I wanna see sweat comin' out your pores

On the house tip I'm swingin' this

Strictly hip-hop boy, I ain't singin' this

Bringing; this to the entire nation

Black, white, red, brown, feel the vibration

Vibration

Come on, feel the vibration

There was one good thing that came from this "funk" performance, however. It seemed to incredibly brighten your sister's mood, along with Santanas.

The other Berry, smiling brighter than she had since this week began, one of your own, albeit smaller, tugging at the corner of your lips. You were just so relieved to see her smile again after seeing her so down.

The smile on Santana's face was only the start of her lifting mood, the girl slowly raised her head from the side of your neck slightly, watching the performance with focused eyes.

The other cheerleader, however, was still as sullen as ever.

Face still buried into your neck, as she watched them sing, -or rather, rap- frown tugging at her lips, almost looking like a child's sad pout.

It's such a good vibration

It's such a sweet sensation

The vibration's good like Sunkist

Many wanna know who done this

Pucky Puck and I'm here to move you

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, mouth opening, unable to stop the breathy chuckle that poured from it.

'Pucky puck, really ?'

Rhymes will groove you

And I'm here to prove to you

A tidal wave of relief blew through you when you heard your sisters and Santana's joyous laughter flow from them. Brittany, now watching on in shock.

Which... in all honesty, kind of confused you.

But you just chalked it up to the girl not being able to understand her emotions at the moment.

That we can party on the positive side

And pump positive vibes

So come along for the ride

Making you feel the rhythm

Is my occupation

So feel the vibration

Vibration

Come on, feel the vibration

Vibration

It's such a good vibration

It's such a sweet sensation

Finnie D, break it down

Down

You couldn't help but laugh yourself at the nicknames they gave themselves for the song. Not to mention their dance moves... especially Finn's.

Finally.

Fucking, finally.

Brittany was smiling. But not only that, she was clapping along to the performance, along with a few of your other friends.

However, Santana was the one who looked shocked now, as Finn began his turn at the rap.

Shocked, but highly amused.

With your arms no longer comfortingly holding the girl's around their shoulders. Instead, choosing to rest them along the back of their seats, the Cheerio's head's fully lifted from your neck. You allowed yourself to take a deep relieving breath, happy that the girls were no longer distraught, at least for the moment. Enjoying the, non-funk, performance the boys, and Mercedes, were putting on.

Finnie D's on the back up

Drug-free so put the crack up

No need for speed

I'm anti D-R-U-G-G-I-E, my

Body is healthy

My rhymes make me wealthy

A humoured scoff poured from your lips as you watched your friend run his palm down his body, while trying to do a body roll. Then flashed off the thick silver chain that was sat hanging around his neck.

All the while, Puckerman moved to lay upon the ground. Looking as if he was trying to crawl but was slipping in place. While also lightly pounding the floor with his fists.

And the Funky Bunch helps me

To bring you a show

With no intoxication

Come on, feel the vibration

Vibration

Yeah

Can you feel it, baby?

You dry-heaved at what Finn said, never wanting to hear him say the word 'baby' as a pet name ever again.

It would be awful for you if he and your sister ever got together, and you were forced to hear that all the time in passing.

Suddenly, plans of how to avoid him and your sister popped into your mind if that ever did happen.

You assumed you would be spending even more time with Matt, Mike, and Quinn if that be the case.

But even so, you still clapped along with your friends, in tune with the song.

I can, too

It's such a good vibration

It's such a sweet sensation

It's such a good vibration

"All right, good job, guys," Mr Schue said, making his way up towards the three, clapping along with the team, "But, that's not funk. I mean, the group is called 'Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch ', but that is a rap song."

"A kick-butt, old-school rap song," Puck protested the man's critiques.

"Does it really matter, Mr Schue?" Artie asked as the teacher humorously rolled his eyes at Puckerman, "We're so clinically depressed we're doing the wrong songs? We're in a deeper funk than ever."

"No, I don't think it's fully that," you disagreed with the boy, "I just think that they're idiots and thought that it was a funk song with the name of the band, and they roped Mercedes into it."

It was only when the boys moved to talk with some of their other friends a few minutes later did Mercedes softly wave you over.

Leaving the girls by your sides with a small nod to them both, a silent assurance that you wouldn't be away from them for long.

Or at least hoped, depending on what Mercedes wanted to talk to you about.

"Do you know where Quinn is?"

"No." You shook your head. "I haven't seen her all day."

"Well, when you find her, will you let me know where she is? I want to speak to her."

"Yeah, of course."

She never asked you to go looking for the blonde girl.

But does that mean you weren't going to, anyway?

Abso-fuckin'-lutely not.

You just had to make sure Santana and Brittany made it to class, then you would go looking for the ex-cheerleader. Considering you both had a free period then.

It didn't take you long to find her once you entered the library.

Spotting her pouring over her books, sat look etched upon her face as she leaned into her hand.

Quickly shooting Mercedes a quick message:

Y/N: She's in the library.

Y/N: Looks pretty down.

Y/N: Engaging target.

Y/N: Over.

Mercedes: You are such a nerd.

Mercedes: ... over.

Grinning in success at the girl's written response, you did as you said you would and strode your way over to "engage with target".

"I don't think I've ever seen somebody concentrate so hard on biology before," you commented as you pulled out the chair to slide into the seat beside her.

Quinn said nothing in return.

Only sighing softly, eyes never once tearing away from her work.

Knowing she wasn't going to give you any sort of vocal reply, you took it upon yourself to speak up once more. Hoping to get the blonde talking.

"Didn't see you in Glee Club today."

Softly shaking her head, Quinn finally spoke, "I'm so embarrassed."

"Because of your performance?" you asked even though you didn't need to, considering you already knew her answer to be true.

Just as she was about to reply, Mercede's slid up to the table and sat across from the girl.

The blonde, now ignoring you, dropped her hand and straightened up in her seat, face almost looking like a fish out of water.

"Mercedes, I'm so sorry," she stared off in a whisper, shaking her head at the girl before her.

"You may not be a minority, but you certainly get how I feel sometimes."

"For nine months," Quinn whispered smally again, "You've had to deal with this your whole life. People making assumptions, calling you names. I seriously can't understand why you don't feel like yelling at people all the time."

"What's the point in getting angry?" Mercedes asked with a shrug.

"Because it's infuriating," the blonde reasoned, "I hate all the looks at school. Don't even get me started on Puck's mom," she scoffed. Resting her head against her splayed fingers for a moment, out of frustration.

"Yeah, I would have started throwing fists a long time ago." You nodded from where you sat by the girl, leaning back into your seat, finger's weaved together and resting over your abdomen. Then your brows ticked up as a thought popped into your head. "Speaking of which..." You turned to Quinn. "Give me names, and I'll deal with them."

"No." She pointed at you. "I need you here with me. And not suspended from school."

"You're not angry, Quinn." Mercedes shook her head, bringing the point back to the one at hand, "You're hurt. You just need someplace safe where you can dig through all that rage. Get to the pain beneath it. So, it's decided. Saturday, you move out of Puck's house and... you move in with me."

"With, what?" you asked for the girl, considering all she could do was shake her head confused as a minuscule smile tugged at her face.

"I already talked to my mom about it. My brother went off to college, and we have an extra room."

"Mercedes."

Quinn couldn't wipe the bright, grateful smile off of her face, even if she tried.

And you were the same.

Just sat there beaming while you looked back and forth between the girls, so incredibly happy and relieved for the girl by your side.

"It's cool. Us sisters gotta stick together, right?"

Mercedes then raised her fist, as she bit her lip, waiting for Quinn to give it a bump.

Your smile had shrunk into a content, warm one as you watched their interaction.

Quinn chuckled lightly before she gave her what she wanted. Bumping her fist and being slow on the uptake of miming an explosion, both girls laughing softly afterwards.

"Wait, hold up." You jolted in your seat, palms coming to rest upon the table, startling the girls as you did. "Does that mean I get to hang over at Mercedes' more often instead of enduring Puck's mother every time I have to pick you up?"

Laughing, Mercedes nodded her head. "Yes. You were also free from Puck's mom."

Remembering that you were still sitting within the school library, you raised your arms high up into the air, pumping your fists, as you quietly celebrated, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"I think Y/N may be happier than I am," Quinn joked, her eyes widening soon after when an excited gasp tore from your throat. Watching as you excitedly pointed towards Mercedes.

"Your mom makes those bomb-ass cookies. Oh, this is amazing," you finished off in a dreamy voice.

Leaning your head back into the hard seat, smiling as the girls giggled at you. Before they trailed off as they saw your face fall, and suddenly a groan poured from you.

"I'm gonna have to lift everything again, aren't I?"

"You work on a construction site." Quinn shrugged happily. "You're used to it."

"You're a professional," Mercedes teased over next. Only leading you further into another groan, gaining a hissed 'shh' from the old librarian, as you did.

---

You had calmed down the course of a few days.

No longer wanting to kick Jesse's ass, if only for your sister's sake.

But now?

That anger was back.

"And now I just keep having nightmares of all of the mothers of the little baby chickens after me for revenge."

But you were still logical.

So, as your sister slowly span around in the wheeled chair she sat in, in the middle of the choir room floor. Looking at the people gathered around her in a large circle. You could only furrow your eyebrows in confusion at her confessed words.

"You do know that's not how eggs work, right?" you asked sceptically, "The grocery store eggs can't hatch chickens. Unless Vocal Adrenaline got fertilized eggs from somewhere, then no chickens were killed on you. Because I don't think any of them are smart enough to know that that's not how eggs work, themselves."

Your words, like usual, went mostly ignored.

Instead, everyone turned to look at Puck as he groaned.

"This is bull. Finn, Mike, Matt, come with me," he then finished as if he were in some sort of intense action movie.

"Right on." Finn, along with the other called for boys, stood from their seats. "It's time for less talking and more punching."

"And I wasn't invited, why?!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your own chair. Quickly moving to follow them to the door Mr Schuester was just coming through, Kurt and Artie rushing to tag along with you, "She is my sister, after all."

"Hey, what's going on?" your teacher asked, concerned.

"We're on our way to go all 'Braveheart' on Vocal Adrenaline," Finn announced, throwing his fist down.

"Wait, guys, violence is never the answer."

"No," you agreed, "That's the question. And in this situation, the answer is "yes"."

"Yeah, and when it is when the question is what's the best way to mess up that Jesse kids face!" Puck seethed.

Which... might have been one of the first times you've ever agreed with the boy. When it didn't involve 'Bert and Ernie's' gayness.

"Mr Schue, Rachel's one of us," Kurt spoke up next, "We're the only ones who get to humiliate her."

"Yeah!" you yelled, before fully realizing what the boy had just said, then turning to face him, "Wait, what? Well... me more so, 'cause sibling rights," you shrugged, walking along with the guys past Mr Schue.

"Now, guys, stop!" You did. You all did. "Get back here and sit down!" Only Kurt did that, with a bowed head, making his way back over to the girls. "Look, I know from experience that making someone suffer doesn't make your pain go away."

"What if that someone is the one who caused the pain and deserves everything that's coming to them?"

"But why do you have to be the one to give it?"

Frustratingly you threw your arm out towards Rachel, "She's my sister! It's my job to take care of her and do this shit. I'm her family."

"Y/N, this is not the way." You scoffed at your teacher's calm words. Shaking your head as you rolled your eyes at the ceiling, with your arms folded across your chest. "You're all amazing, no matter what Vocal Adreanling says or does. We just need to find some way to remind ourselves of that."

"We can't just let Vocal Adrenaline get away with turning Rachel into an omelette."

"Were not."

"No offence, Mr Schue," you replied to the man's intense words, "But your prank ideas are shitty at best, and we're way beyond that point right now."

"It's not a prank," was all he said before spinning and strutting towards your sister, "Rachel, dial Jesse's number on your phone."

The girl reached into her bag, and with only a few clicks on her rhinestone-encrusted phone, she handed it over to Mr Schue.

"You haven't deleted his number yet?" Santana questioned sceptically.

You could hardly believe that she would keep out hope for the boy who crushed her heart in such a way for so long.

Except, that you could fully believe it. It was your sister, after all.

"Jesse St. James? Will Schuester here," he spoke into the phone, "You and Vocal Adrenaline need to meet at our auditorium. Friday, three sharp."

You watched as the man flipped the phone shut, consequently hanging up on the boy on the other line.

Waiting a few seconds, you asked, "What the hell is happening at three 'o'clock on Friday?"

---

You were with Quinn, at your place like you normally were at the end of the day, just sitting around watching TV while she finished up the last of her math homework.

Which, speaking of...

"Will you change the channel?" the blonde asked suddenly, waving up to her head, "I can't hear myself think with all the noise."

"Well, it is 'The Texa Chainsaw Massacre', it's kinda expected," you muttered, picking up the remote, "You can just admit that you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

'Liar'

You hummed, now flicking through the channels, "Well, then you better not call me tonight after waking up from a bad dream if you're "not scared"."

Just as Quinn had looked over her shoulder and away from her books splayed over the couch, mouth open to sass her reply back to you, she was cut off.

Instead, having her full attention pulled to the TV.

"Let's hear from the internationally ranked Cheerio's Coach, Sue Sylvester," the interviewer announced as the camera panned over from the large trophy and celebrating team to the two. Santana jumped onto Brittany's back in the background as the man continued speaking, "Coach, six consecutive National titles. You're the Michael Jordan of cheerleading."

"Thank's, Brett. I am."

"I can change the channel if you want."

"No." She shook her head, eyes still firmly glued onto the TV. "Leave it on."

"Sue, let us how about the decision you made to have Kurt Hummel here do a fourteen and a half minute Celine Dion medley entirely in French."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you when Sue stopped Kurt from trying to walk past the camera in any but to be on TV more and pulled the boy into her side via a locked arm around his neck.

"Well, I'll tell you what, Brett, I'm all about finding a freakish, depressed kid and showing him what winning is all about."

"Viva La Différence!" Kurt took his chance to speak into the microphone. Before doing a kick for the camera.

"Did you know he could speak French?" you turned to the girl, who only shook her head in reply.

"Well, Sue, congratulations," Brett chuckled, "But I have to ask, where are you going to put that mammoth, skyscraping trophy?"

"I know just the place."

Your eyes connected with Quinn's, not even needing to vocalize your words to know that you were both thinking the same thing.

'The choir room'

---

Friday at three came sooner than you expected.

The large group of Carmel High's Glee Club gathered in the auditorium seats, all wearing matching school hoodies. Eyes intensely watching your sister as she spoke.

You, along with the rest of the club stood posing behind the screen, standing right in between Santana and Quinn. Arms spread and raised up near your head. Peace signs flung up on both hands. Head bowed slightly, with a red beret sat pushed to the side.

"I can't believe Rachel made me stand like this," you mumbled, starting to feel cramps travel up your arms.

Quinn 'shhed' you lightly, while Santana whispered over, "Shut up, Mr Schue said we look awesome."

"I feel like a fucking scarecrow."

"Thanks for coming. After your brazen escalation of our growing dispute, which we were willing to put to rest, we decided the only way to truly "funkify" you is to show you the one thing we know you can't do. So enjoy."

Your eyes widened in surprise when Kurt came out from the sidelines and began singing.

Roof off

We're gonna tear the roof off

'Oh my, God, Kurt's voice is deep!'

The mother sucker

Tear the roof off the sucker

Tear the roof off,

We're gonna tear the roof off

Tear the roof off the sucker

Finally, you had a reprieve from the pain in your arms, as you were now able to move them freely as you danced with your team behind the screen. Letting Vocal Adrenaline watch your shadows as you all begin singing.

You've got a real type of thing

Goin' down, gettin' down

There's a whole lot

Of rhythm goin' round

With Rachel and Mike leading the charge, everyone began pouring out the sides of the screen to join Kurt front and centre on the stage.

You've got a real type of thing

Goin' down, gettin' down

There's a whole lot of rhythm

Goin' round

We want the funk

Give up the funk

You passed by Quinn as you moved to the backline of your dancing group, looking over your shoulder to gauge the wide-eyed look upon Jesse's face.

We need the funk

We gotta have that funk

We want the funk

Give up the funk

We need the funk

We gotta have that funk

Na-na-na-na-na

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow

Na-na-na-na-na

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow

You could call this gay solidarity.

Dancing with Kurt, the rest of your team spread out and doing the same.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Quinn and Mercedes getting into it. The smile on your face widened at how close they seemed to be getting.

We're gonna turn this mother out

Give up the funk

We're gonna turn this mother out

The team had come back together and now were dancing with the people around you.

Which, good for you, Quinn was right there in front of you. And was happily dancing with you, similar to how she had been with Mercedes earlier in the song.

Gotta have that funk

Oh, yeah

We're gonna turn this mother out

Give up the funk

We're gonna turn this mother out

Na-na-na-na-na

Hey

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow

You watched from the pregnant blonded's side as she danced before the rival ream. Heart practically dropped to your ass as she dropped to the floor in a squat.

Just knowing your reaction would get back to her, and she would call you overprotective, yet again.

You've got a real type of thing

Goin' down, gettin' down

You've got a real type of thing

Goin' down, gettin' down

There's a whole lot of rhythm

Goin' round

At Jesse's stern yet scared face, you took great satisfaction. Unable to hide the smug smile.

A lotta rhythm goin' round

You've got a real type of thing

Goin' down, gettin' down

There's a whole lot of rhythm

Goin' round

"Yeah!" your team cheered, some of which hi-fiving just before Mercedes started belting out the next part. Taking that as your queue to split off into separate sides upon the stage.

Yeah

We want the funk

Give up the funk

Starting with Kurt, everyone was tasked with dancing down the open centre of the team. Shooting finger guns, which you could only describe as a camp cowboy.

We need the funk

Gotta have that funk

Funky

We want the funk

Yeah

Give up the funk

We need the funk

It wasn't long before it was blondie's turn. And, as it seemed, she was trying to give you some sort of a heart attack with the spin she did.

Yeah...

Maybe you were a little overprotective of her.

Gotta have that funk

We want the funk

Funky, funky

Give up the funk

We need the funk

Get down

Just after Santana showed off her "moves", it was your turn.

You... well, you made it up on the spot. And luckily, your reflexes were quite fast, so you were able to catch the hat that had flown off of your head and up into the air before it could land on the ground. Quickly pulling it back on.

Gotta have that funk

Hey

We want the funk

We need the funk

Gotta have that funk

Yeah

You smacked Quinn's open palm as you walked by her, only to throw your arm over your sister's shoulder'. Reminiscent of when you had done that very same thing earlier that week. Only now, with much higher spirits.

"Whoo!" your team celebrated the end of the performance, making your way off of the stage.

"See you punks at Regionals," Puck called over to the group of stunned teenagers.

"Now, get the hell out of our auditorium!"

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[nameless-shrimp]

TWO GHOSTS || OSAMU DAZAI

↳ PAIRING: Osamu Dazai x GN! Reader

↳ TYPE: one-shot

↳ WORD COUNT: 1.6k

↳ WARNINGS: mention of reader's depression, Dazai's unhappy thoughts, mild angst and hurt/comfort, heavy grammar errors

↳ SYNOPSIS: Dazai prepares a treat for you, but once he realizes you're not in the happiest mood, he tries to help. However, he feels the same.

↳ AUTHOR'S NOTES: i haven't been feeling well so i needed to release my emotions through writing, and i wanted some dazai comfort. so this came out in the process. i challenged myself to use apple pie and ghosts in one fic for an autumn-themed fic, and i hope you guys like it. :)

↳ AUTUMN PROMPT LIST

He dances along to the music softly blaring from the old radio. A gentle strum of guitar echoing across the kitchen. The scent of freshly baked apple pie rests on the marble counter; he smiles in pure delight. Pride. Dazai feels proud knowing that his finished dessert has been completed to an elegant mouth-salivating piece—and he chooses not to let Kunikida take full credit for stopping by his semi-clean apartment to take care of the prepping.

Rather so, Dazai will thank him later by saving a slice.

The door clicks open. His eyebrows raise in a giddy manner. He unties his messy apron, fully ready to swing his arms wide open. Soon, the grin falters to a frown, seeing your face look down at the floor below you. Droplets of rain drip from the bits of your clothes. With the way your body nearly stumbles from one step in; the bag settles down to the floor in a flash, and you walk past him. Nose dipping high to the air; adrenaline at its peek from the apple pie.

Dazai remains still for a moment, watching the ghost deep within your soul, hoping to try to find a moment of existence within the act of living. A mind reader, he’d call himself, and he smiles, understanding the tension that arises from your slumped figure. You almost limp your way to the kitchen—exhaustion overtaking your shoulders before you push yourself onto one of the high chairs.

He walks in the kitchen with a trail of his fingers on the counter. Tap after another. The rain still dies down to its steady beats of pitter-patter from the outside. Dazai keeps a smile on his face; inhaling the scent of pie that arouses the air, and he throws his arms around you in an instant. His sleeves pick up rain droplets, but he pays no mind to this.

“One of those days, my love?” He asks; you remain quiet. Dazai doesn’t push it further. He holds his head back—kitchen light washes the room to a mellow white. Instead, he departs for a brief moment. A click of the plates remains audible to you, though your head remains low. And he returns back, with a fork and a—somewhat—properly cut slice of apple pie on the plate. “Kunikida and I made this for you.”

“More like Kunikida made it,” you force a chuckle. He stiffens, aware of your unusual change of displeasuring nature, yet his heartbeat remains to match with yours. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Dazai responds. “He did.”

He cuts a small bit and offers to feed you. Of course, you give in; sweetness hitting your peak, lost in the sugary adrenaline high. And Dazai leans in to kiss you, lips tied together into a gentle connection. Lips taste so sweet; looks remain real to his eyes, almost lost in the hazel-lit structure of his irises while indulging the bittersweet of dessert and empty emotions.

He takes your hand with his before you can try to take another bite. Dazai wails a finger around, shaking his head. “Dance with me, my sweet,” he laughs; you frown. And you insist on fighting back, though you decide to soothe his words with your everlasting glow.

The two of you start to sway along to the simple guitar music that continues to echo in the background. Ambience noise of nothing but faint strums; the moon dances on Dazai’s good side, head resting close to your head. He keeps his heart steady, closely matching yours, with the genuine taste of sugar that dwells upon his lips. The ghost remains in your heart—an empty, hollow figure, where he recalled that you both shared the same stories; tongue-tied feelings that were left to be hidden from amongst the crowd though you bestowed these emotions to each other—galaxies hidden across the irises of one another.

Two shallow spirits standing amongst one another in hopes of finding what it would be like to have a heartbeat once more. Dazai allows himself to be mindful of his heart—now racing its pace once your smile rises. He closes his eyes, lips pressing against your forehead; warmth radiating from the skin. Body close to the shallow atmosphere of your heart, ghost trapped underneath the ribcage, with both of you dancing underneath the kitchen light. Maroon souls swirling in half-empty glasses; apple pie as a side.

Despising the world as Dazai did, he recalled every moment you shared with him together. The amount of degradation he put upon himself was unfathomable, no surprise—a list led to infinity. Though if a world were to call a man to be hopelessly in love with a similar paranormal empty spirit such as his, it would’ve been him, for the relationship that he cherished with you. Hand connected with yours—in spirit, and through the hardships of what life had offered through the plentiful seasons of the year, even around the time of the colored leaves on the trees.

“Osamu?”

He opens his eyes, continuing to sway his body as you follow along. His palms are met with your cheeks; tear-stained eyes noticeable to him. Dazai places more kisses along your forehead in hopes of easing the mental burden—to wash away the hurricane, as he always hopes. And he tilts his head, eyes lost in a hazel of orange. “Yes, my love?” He responds.

You sigh deeply, closing your eyes. The dam breaks, and the tears sprinkle. “Do you love me?”

He blinks mindlessly before shaking his head. “Of course I love you. With all of my heart. You’re important to me, forever,” he chuckles before kissing your forehead once more. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, wiping away a few tears. “You seem so quiet today. That’s all. I got worried.”

Dazai remains silent—ironically. For a moment, he glances at the apple pie resting on the marble counter along with your barely-touched piece on the table. He licks his lips; sweetness on the tip of his tongue, yet his throat still stung. And he continues to grow his usual smile, allowing you to be engulfed by his arms. Trapped. Yet it was home. A comfortable gesture he always did in hopes of having the moon twirl around your figure; this time, slowly and closely inching towards the kitchen window.

“Don’t worry, my sweet,” he says, tone so honey-like. “I will always love you…”

He puts his head down, sighing deeply. A ghost deep within him, cravely so desperately for a type of joy when your presence was not around, regardless of the immense suffering that he’d go on the daily. Yet he was reminded that his presence was not alone, and Dazai allowed his own walls to crumble down for that moment—he squeezes your body close to yours, matching your beats along with his; chest to chest. Rather than fortifying his walls, instead, he gives his emotions to you—an open desire. Yours. His. Together—tied as forbidden spirits.

“I’m just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”

tags: @whorefordazai @tender-rosiey @internetkilledtheroxstar @sadcannibal @bsdparadise @pompompurin1028 @amemuraa @tetsustation @milky-toast @missrown @requiem626k @jessbeinme15 @kyuus4ku @so-chile @kiyokoxd @dazaiaiko @meatbun-aku @chuuyasboots

[ask-darling-xoxo]

The Killer In My Bed.

Jeff the killer x reader

Warnings: lots of cussing, Jeff being an asshole as usual, mentions of murder, use of force, reader being a little depressed

You don’t know why or how things came to be. All you know is that you’re thankful you’re still alive after what’s happened. Your once quiet and peaceful life now ruined by some ungodly chance. Everyday you live in fear; Not knowing what will happen to you if you somehow fuck things up.

You do your best to do whatever it takes to stay alive though and if that means being submissive and compliant, then so be it. Your life matters to you and you do not care what happens so long as you still have your sanity and your capturers reassurance that he will not kill you...as long as you listen to him.

You lay in bed shivering from the cold temperature of the entire house. You had tried to turn on the heater earlier but found it had given out...guess you would need to convince your capture to fix it for you. Your body balls itself up under the thick, fluffy, blanket trying to create some type of warmth until there’s a sound of a door opening and closing from downstairs. You listen as your capture makes his way up the stairs, his feet making the floor boards creak with every step he takes.

With your back facing towards the door, you refuse to turn your back. Not because you don’t wanna look at him but because...you’re just too cold to move.

“S’ cold as shit out there...why the hell didn’t you turn on the heater? You trying to freeze my ass off?” His voice is raspy but soft spoken as the sound of him unbuckling his pants alerts you. “N...n-no. The heater is broken...I tried to turn it on but...it’s just not working...”

You hear him grunt in response as he takes off his shoes and hoodie, throwing them across the room before he nudges you. “Get up.”

You give a small whine and shift away from him. It’s too damn cold for him to force you out of bed. “I said Get up “ This time you don’t hesitate to get up. You stand to your feet and hug your body close, your eyes staring down at his snow covered shoes in the corner of the room before looking up at him. His raven black hair is soaked and decorated with small ice crystals.

Winter is such a harsh season when you have no heater to depend on. He notices you staring at him and grabs your face. “I see you looking at me. You got something to say?” You shake your head and lick your lips. “No Jeff..I was just...wondering why your hair was so wet” He looks at you for a bit, his lidless eyes staring intensely into yours as if trying to decipher whether you were lying or not. After a second, he lets go and grumbles. “I’m soaking wet because today’s victim just HAD to be a runner! Fucking bitch thought she could outrun me in SNOW. Can you believe that? It’s nuts. You should have seen her, she put up a real fight and managed to throw snow into my face. Not only that but on my way back from the forest, one of the trees branches dumped a shitload of snow on me.”

You listened patiently and rubbed your hands together for just a teeny bit of warmth. Jeff noticed this and nudged you towards the bathroom. “Go turn on the hot water and wait for me.” You nodded and watched him walk out of the bedroom. You don’t know where he’s going but he’s up to something. You shrug and go to prepare the bath.

Jeff seems to enjoy taking baths the most so that’s what you’ve stuck to. You don’t know why he likes baths but it just always seems to make him happy and somewhat...more easy to deal with. He’s kind and considerate when you two have bath time together.

“You didn’t put any soap into the water did you? I wouldn’t want you trying to do that little escape plan again.” You shake your head and move to the side to show him that there’s no soap. “...I wouldn’t be able to outrun you anyways...you’re too good” you also noticed how Jeff smirks and almost seems to reward you whenever you compliment his skills and athleticism....or just him in general. It strokes his ego and puts him in a good mood so you try to compliment him every once in a while.

“My my someone’s a smart fucking bitch huh? This is why I love you. You just seem to understand! Not like any of those bimbo bitches.” That’s a compliment. Jeff may call you a bitch and whatnot but that’s just his way of complimenting you. You don’t seem to care or mind anyways.

Once Jeff inspects the bath and deems it safe enough, he gets in first. “Hurry up and get in before the water gets cold.” He hisses and you nod as you undress before him. Jeff watches with interest, his eyes scouring your body as if it’s something he’s never seen. You pay no attention and sit down in front him. Jeff takes a moment to relax before pushing you to lay back against him. This is what you mean when he’s kind and considerate—he gets super kind and considerate and gives you attention.

Once you’re fully relaxed, Jeff folds his arms behind his head and leans back against the tub. You can’t tell but he’s slowly drifting to sleep, if he had eyelids, his eyes would be closed but instead they’re wide open as Jeff softly snores. This gives you time to breathe, time to relax the peace without Jeff constantly forcing you around or talking to you about his day of killing.

Being kidnapped by Jeff isn’t the most awesome thing that could happen. It’s not bad being WITH him, it’s bad being around him CONSTANTLY. Jeff is a vicious and well known killer and yet...he’s so awfully clingy and touch starved and never shuts his mouth. Not only that, but he gets grumpy and aggressive....sometimes he just gets very aggressive over you. He’s never hurt you but he’s scared you lots of times. An example of him scaring you was when he had come home extremely upset saying how you cheated on him. You didn’t know what he was talking about until he showed you a picture of you from a long time ago with an ex boyfriend. Jeff didn’t give you time to explain as he had spent half the night destroying the living room and throwing things. He almost hit you with a chair, nearly missing as it hit the wall beside you instead.

He was awfully possessive of you and does not like it when slenders proxies come out to visit him when he’s busy spending time with you.

Not only that, but he’s just...a killer. It’s hard to be around him when at any moment he could kill you in your sleep. He’s told you countless times that he won’t kill you and that you’re his loving little girlfriend but you can’t just take his word. You’ve seen him lose his shit and have crazy bursts of insanity.

“Y/n. Stop moving and just relax god damn it!” You apologize as Jeff pinches your cheek and rubs your shoulder. “God you’re so tense.” He says as he sits up and reaches over for the shampoo. Gently, he takes his shampoo covered hands and begins to massage and scratch your scalp. You can’t help but melt, it just feels so good...you always like when Jeff is nice and gentle like this. That’s the upside. Jeff can be a sadistic and teasing menace, but he has a certain soft spot for you.

“You haven’t been showering.” He says gruffly while rinsing your hair free from the soap. You cower down in shame. You just haven’t been feeling the motivation to do anything. Depression has you in it’s clutches and though Jeff knows it’s because he’s taken you from your home, he refuses to give you back. You’re his now and he’ll just make you get accustomed to your new home. “I don’t care what you do but I also can’t have you fucking dying on me.” He grips your hair tightly and makes you turn your head to look at him. “You trying to escape me by dying?” You wince as he pulls your hair back, your lips quivering as you look at him. “N-No...Im just...sad. It’s cold here and I...I’m scared that something or someone is gonna kill me” Jeff huffs and let’s your hair go before washing his own hair. “Nothing is going to hurt you. Slenderman controls the forest and as long as you keep being a good girl...he won’t let anything get near you. But if you so much as try to leave this house without telling me...I can’t guarantee you’ll be alive. You got that?” He doesn’t wait for you to nod your head. He knows you understand. You’re not stupid enough to leave the house. The house in which you both live in is surrounded by forest. It’s not that far into it but it’s located far enough where skin walkers could hunt you down.

Once out of the bath tub, Jeff doesn’t bother to cover up as he instead tends to you and dries you off free of water. He can see you shivering, your eyes clenched tightly as you try and deal with the cold air hitting your wet skin. “Go get dressed. We have to go to the store.” He sees the confused look on your face. You usually just stay home when he leaves to the store as Jeff doesn’t want anyone to recognize you and try to ask questions. “I tried to fix the heater but it’s too difficult for me to fucking fix. So now, we have to go out and buy a heating blanket. But if you’re fine freezing your ass off then we dont—“

“N-No! I wanna go! I’ll go with you!” You hurriedly say as he smirks. “Great. Hurry your ass up now”

Jeff can’t help but watch as you happily skip in the store, you’re happy to be out in public and outside of the dark and gloomy house you live in. He watches carefully and grabs hold of your hand as he adjusts his face mask and sunglasses. “Make it quick. I don’t like the stares I’m getting from these bastards.”

You understand his discomfort of being around other people seeing as he’s a killer. It’s hard for him to remain “normal” when all he wants to do is commit mass genocide and murder everyone in the store except you. But he holds back. He holds back his urge and lust for blood. You’ve seen enough things and heard enough to be traumatized. He doesn’t need you losing your sanity. You quickly select a large heating blanket before spotting a medium sized teddy bear. You stare at it for a bit until Jeff is tugging on your hand. “Come on stop wasting time” when you don’t move, he turns to see you staring at the bear. Your eyes seemed to be so fixed on it and soon enough Jeff finds himself looking through his wallet. He mumbles curses under his breath along with something under the lines of “can’t believe I’m in love with a whore like you”

You don’t take any mind. You’re satisfied as you hold the bear tightly to your chest as you follow Jeff through the forest and back home. Jeff takes the time to put the heating blanket on and pushes you down into bed. “You’re lucky I’m being a nice guy” he says before pulling you into his chest. You hug your new bear tightly as Jeff kisses your shoulder and lays his chin on your head. His skin is cold but it’s okay. The heating blanket helps a lot as Jeff envelops your body with his own.

You don’t mind it at all when he has you pressed up so closely against him. After all...its a killer in your bed who’s cuddling you so tightly.

[wanderbreadsworld]

Hi I have a request! Father peepaw Michael with his adopted S/O who is 20 and had bad and abousive dad. S/O hating relationship and is aromantic. Really feel awkard and uneasy around men and Michael but with passing time become better. Also they never felt how is a father hug their child and I want to them have this moment with michael and they never have nobody protect them and when michael so this, they can't belive this is real in first days. Soft momnet with father and child. Thank you💙

I can do that for ya! (First, Peepaw would be so loving. He'd pretend that he's not, but that man is a sweetheart and would be SWOONING.) This is just a short little drabble for ya, I hope you enjoy! ❤ Not proofread either 😅

Hugs May Be Welcome

Platonic!Reader x Peepaw Michael

Warnings: hinted at bad past/abuse, touch starved reader, and feelings of sadness/depression

The father across the street knelt to the ground as his child ran to him. Shielding them from the cold wind as they were engulfed in their father's arms, swinging them around before setting them back down and looking at them with all the happiness in the world.

Normally these displays of affection didn't bother you, but as the cold weather and seasonal depression approached, along with the holidays bringing back old memories, the scene in front of you struck a sensitive chord.

You turned away, distracting yourself with more shopping before making a quick exit to go home. Michael would know what was wrong, and you weren't sure if you could handle that either. But you went home regardless, knowing he would begin to worry and come stalking you.

The TV played, one of Michael's horror movies on. Thinking he was in the living room, you haphazardly walking into the house, dropping the groceries to the floor with a huff before quickly shedding your coat before pulling things out of their bags.

Michael couldn't help but watch you from the shadows. It was something he always did, feeling more comfortable watching than being directly involved. But today he watched with concern etched into his features. He had ditched the mask, since he didn't leave the house today. So his white brows knit together, his lips pulling down into a frown as he saw the perpetual scowl on your face that conflicted with the pain in your eyes.

He stepped out of the shadows, silently making his way over to you. Michael reached out gently, unsure of his own movements at first. Even now, he didn't want to scare you off with his touch, and the affection felt foreign to him. But he reassured himself, making contact with your waist to stop you.

Your jump caused him to pause, but he took your moment of surprise to turn you to face him.

Confused at the random touch, confusion crept into your features, momentarily replacing the sad. Michael already knew, and you sighed, getting ready for him to begrudgingly comfort you like he always did.

But when his strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you against his chest, you stopped. Michael almost never hugged you, even when you would let him, he barely touched you. He just wasn't very touchy.

When you recoiled at first, Michael didn't feel hurt, knowing that you yourself weren't big on touch. But he didn't let go, making sure to keep a firm yet gentle hold on you as he rested his chin on your head.

The warmth of his body slowly started to seep over to you, and slowly you began to sink into his chest. The affection was still foreign, but you let him hold you, and at least enjoyed the warmth of his body against yours.

Michael hummed silently, just enough to rumble his chest, hoping it would ease you into his touch more.

You let yourself fall into him, loosely wrapping your own arms around his waist as you tried to let yourself accept the touch. The thought of that father with his child coming back to your mind. A tear coming to your eye despite your best efforts to fight it off.

As some more tears started to sting your eyes, the warmth and softness of Michael's touch told you he wouldn't mind some tear stains on his clothes.

Almost sensing your emotions, Michael reached one hand up to stroke your hair. You couldn't see, but Michael smiled above you as he felt your tense muscles relax ever so slightly. Michael would have to hug you more often, seeing the way you needed a hug, and the way you felt in his arms just felt too good for him to ever let you go.

[drabbles-mc]

Stopping By

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Dakota Lowman)

Inspired by Day 15 of the July Prompts: iced tea

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I took some liberties with today’s prompt lmao. But I hope y’all enjoy! Idk man my brain has been a mess lately and I’ve been finding so much comfort in writing little slice of life fics. Hoping to do some actual Lowman Sister’s-Centered content soon.

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @jitterbugs927​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!)

Juice walked into the apartment and looked around. Dakota was in the kitchen, making herself a bag of popcorn to go with the large glass of wine that was resting on the coffee table. He laughed quietly to himself as he took off his boots and shrugged off his kutte, leaving them all by the door. He heard the television playing in the living room, and was curious to know what she had been watching that got her into the mood to settle in and relax for the night. Craning his neck as he walked through, he shook his head with a smile as he watched the TV.

“This is what does it for you on a night in?” he finally spoke up as he walked over to her.

She spun around, a large bowl of popcorn in her arms, clutched tightly to her chest. She smiled, shrugging, “Suits me just fine. You can hop right back on that bike if you wa—”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence, instead pulling her into a kiss, “I didn’t say that. I never said that.”

She laughed, holding the bowl in one hand so she could use the other to gently cup his chin, giving him a quick peck on the lips, “Alright then,” she tugged him towards the couch, “Are you staying over?”

“Can I?” he asked, eyes growing a little wider.

She gave him a confused look, “Why not?”

“I’m not really in the mood to get murdered by your sister, that’s all.”

Dakota chuckled as she sat down on the sofa, “Di’s out of town. Went…somewhere with my dad. I dunno,” she shrugged, “Won’t be back for a couple days.”

“That why you invited me over?”

“I’d rather be here with you than be here by myself,” she set the bowl of popcorn down between them, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want it.”

He shook his head, settling in and making himself comfortable, “I’m good.”

The night quickly got away from them as they got sucked into one episode after another. Dakota was leaning completely against Juice’s side, the now-empty popcorn bowl rested in his lap. His arm was draped around her shoulder, thumb idly tracing back and forth as they continued to watch their show.

Dakota recited the intro that she had listened to all too many times before, getting more and more theatrical as the night went on and she drank more wine, “These are their stories,” she paused dramatically, looking up at Juice, “Dun dun!”

He laughed, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her hair, “You really like this show, huh?”

“It’s one of the only things that I can marathon.”

“Seriously?” he chuckled, “Doesn’t this shit get depressing after a while?”

“Nah,” she laughed moving the popcorn bowl so that she could rest her head in his lap and look up at him, “How can I be depressed when I literally have Ice-T solving especially heinous crimes on my TV?”

He carefully placed his hand on the front of her shoulder, “He your comedic relief in all of this?”

“He is good at it,” she placed her hand over his and interlocked their fingers, “Even if he doesn’t mean to be.”

“How often are you sitting at home binging on Law & Order?”

“I have watched all twenty-something seasons more than once,” she laughed, squeezing his hand.

He looked down at her, face instantly warming up when he saw the smile on her face and the glassy glint in her eyes. The two sides of his head were battling it out as he looked at her looking at him. She was so comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world that they were together like that. And for as much as the mere thought of her made his heart race, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her as often as he could, he still never let himself truly enjoy it, afraid that it was all going to get yanked away. He tried to remain realistic about who he was with, who her family was.

“Where are you, Juan?” she spoke up and snapped him out of his thoughts, letting go of his hand so she could reach up and caress his face.

He chuckled, involuntarily leaning into her touch, “I’m here.”

“You sure?” she cocked an eyebrow, “Looked like you got away from me for a second there.”

“I’m here. Promise,” he turned and kissed her palm, “It’s just you, me, and Olivia Benson.”

“And Ice-T,” she piped up with a laugh.

He laughed quietly, nodding, “Yea, and Ice-T. The real glue of the SVU team.”

She turned so that she was facing the television, but left her head rested in his lap. She draped one arm across his legs, settling in to get more comfortable. Juice let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding, grateful for the closeness. He wondered how someone who was raised by Happy still managed to be so soft. He knew there was more to her than what he already knew, and it would take some time for her to really let him in, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

His eyes were fixed on the TV, but he was running his fingers through her hair over and over. At a certain point he didn’t even notice that he was still doing it—the motion becoming second nature. He did, however, feel her breathing begin to slow and even out as she fell asleep. He chuckled quietly, reaching and shutting off the television.

Ever-so carefully, he lifted Dakota up, draping her across his arms bridal style. She grumbled, awakening slightly but not enough to really say anything to him. Laughing quietly, he got both of them to her room, quickly reaching and turning on the light so he could see what he was working with, where he should step. She groaned at the change in light, but didn’t fight against him carrying her. He laid her gently down on the bed before he went about stripping down to his boxers and a t-shirt. Even in her sleepy daze, Dakota made a dramatic show out of watching him, getting him to laugh.

“The baseball bat really necessary?” he nodded towards the wooden bat leaning against the wall, one that was, knowing Happy, heavier than a sanctioned bat to do more damage if it ever had to be used.

“As necessary as the gun in the bedside drawer,” she laughed as she rested her cheek in her hand, “They will not be making a Law & Order episode about me in the future, thank you very much.”

“A woman with a plan,” he chuckled as he set his phone on the bedside table.

“Always,” her voice already getting raspy with sleep again.

His quiet laughter filled the small room as he walked back over and turned the light off. He made his way back to the bed in the dark, shimmying under the covers with her. She immediately latched onto him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face into his chest. Without any hesitation at all he entwined his legs with hers, one arm draping around her waist and his other hand coming to rest on the back of her head.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled against the top of her head as he kissed her.

“Goodnight,” her voice was hardly audible as she spoke into his chest.

[rosiehunterwolf]

two halves of a broken whole

Prompts: Scars and Free Space (stealing Post-Fight from the twixt board)

Word Count: 2,191

Characters: Nya and Zane

Timeline: Immediately after season 9

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Needles, Brief Swearing

Summary: The Sons of Garmadon have been defeated. Garmadon is in prison. The city has been saved.

In the aftermath of the battle, Nya is more than ready to take a much-needed break. But the life of a ninja is messy. Recovery is never that simple. Although the wounds may have healed, the scars still remain.

Zane’s scars seem to match up, though. And maybe together, they can begin to heal.

Read on FFN.net

Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

Nya stumbled through the dark kitchen, searching through the cabinets. She gritted her teeth as pain flared in her arm. Where are those painkillers? Ugh, how does Skylor find anything in here? There’s no system!

She gasped in relief as she finally found the medicine cabinet, but as she reached out to grab a bottle, she bumped her bad arm against the cabinet door. Crying out in pain, she jerked her arm back, and the bottles came tumbling down and clattering loudly to the floor.

“Damn it all,” she groaned, leaning her head against the cabinet. “Stupid, stupid arm, why do you have to be so weak-”

“Nya?”

Nya jumped, hitting her head against the cabinet door. “Ow! Zane, what are you doing here-”

The nindriod crossed the small kitchen in two steps, yanking off the damp towel she had draped across her upper arm, revealing a long, bloody cut stretching across the length of it.

“I knew it,” Zane muttered. “Nya, why would you hide something like this?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I-”

“Not that big of a deal? Nya, this is serious! You need stitches! Next time, say something!”

She winced. “I didn’t want to bother you guys- Lloyd was way more hurt than I was, you guys had your hands full with him.”

“You could’ve gone to Skylor.”

“I wanted to prove I could do it, okay?” Nya snapped. “Skylor was so strong, walking off Garmadon’s power corruption like it was nothing. And she was being so generous, letting us all crash in her house like this- I didn’t want to bother her anymore, but instead, I just ended up bleeding out all over her bathroom floor.”

Zane shot her a sympathetic glance. “Nya, don’t worry about that now. Skylor will understand, and I can clean it up. The only thing we care about is that you are safe. Here, go sit down.” He gestured towards a kitchen chair and headed towards the cabinet. Nya slumped over into the chair, still clutching her arm, and Zane rooted through the medicine bottles, finally pulling out the painkillers and handing her three large pills and a glass of water. She eyed them warily.

“Isn’t this a little much? I mean, it hurts, but not that bad.”

“I still have to give you stitches, remember?”

“Oh. You’re doing that now?” Zane turned away, and Nya took the opportunity to down the pills, using the cheap coffee she had made herself to help her swallow instead of the water Zane had given her. “Nya, if I don’t do this now it will only make the cut worse.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know- ow!” she yelped as Zane rubbed at the wound with a wet, antiseptic-soaked washcloth, the fabric quickly staining red.

“I need to clean it, Nya. This would’ve been much easier if you hadn’t spent so long walking around with an open wound.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“I’m going to go get a needle and thread, I’ll be right back.” Nya sighed, slumping back against the chair. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. The guys had been through hell recently. The last thing they needed was having to worry about her, too.

“Nya?”

Nya jerked her eyes open, turning her gaze towards Zane. What happened? Did I doze off?

Stupid coffee, not doing its job.

Zane seemed to catch on to this too, and frowned. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I don’t need sleep, I have this magical liquid called coffee.”

He shot her a stern glance. “Nya.”

“Fine! I don’t remember, okay?” She reached for the paper cup again, but Zane snatched it from her hand.

“You can’t live off of coffee. First of all, it’s horrible for your health, second, it can never replace a full night’s sleep.”

Nya crossed her arms, grumbling. “Hey, at least I’m better than Lloyd. He dumps like five pounds of sugar into his.”

“Yes, well, Lloyd is sleeping. Like you should be.”

“Which is so not fair,” she huffed. “I spent weeks trying to get him to sleep and the second you guys get back, he does it instantly.”

Zane smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Kai’s always kind of had a way with him.”

“I know.” She turned her head, sighing. “I wasn’t trying to sound ungrateful, I’m so glad you’re back, but-” Nya let her hand fall to her side, where it bumped against Zane’s. Gently, she rubbed her fingers across the smooth metal, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, she squeezed Zane’s hand, her breath coming in heavy pants as she closed her eyes.

“Nya?”

Her eyes snapped open. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Nya, it’s okay if you’re not fine.”

“I am.”

“I’m sorry we left you as we did.”

“It’s not your fault, okay?” She tugged away from him. Her hands were trembling now- from the coffee? The painkillers? The fear? She didn’t know. “It’s not your fault.”

Zane closed his hands over hers, steadying them. “No, but it still wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You don’t know,” she whimpered. “You don’t know what it was like. I wanted to give up so bad, and Lloyd-” she closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. “I don’t even know how I got him through it. He was so depressed. I can’t go through that again.” She turned sharply towards Zane, grabbing his hands. “I can’t. You hear me? That can never happen again.”

Zane squeezed her hands back, his eyes sad. “Believe me, Nya, I will do everything in my power to make sure it never does. But we are ninja. Dangerous things are going to happen, and if we spend our whole lives fearing that, we’ll never get through. We need to live life one day at a time. We need to trust in each other.”

“I do trust you!”

“Good.” He placed a hand on her arm, just below the wound. “Then you’ll let me patch you up?”

Nya glanced at the needle and swallowed, looking away. “Just go ahead. Don’t make me watch.”

“We really don’t have the proper numbing medication,” Zane said. “The painkillers will help some, but this is still going to hurt.”

“Believe me, I’m sure the sword going in felt a lot worse.”

Zane pressed his lips together. “Yes, I suppose it did. Ready?”

“Stop asking me if I’m ready and just do it already!” Zane flinched away, and she quickly added, “Sorry. I’m just a little on edge.”

“You’re going to be fine. Just hold still.”

The needle was cold on her skin, and then suddenly it was piercing through her flesh. It took all of Nya’s willpower not to jerk away, and she bit down hard on her lip, forcing back a scream. “Holy shit- Zane!” she broke off in a whine.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.”

She tried to focus on her breathing as the needle pricked her again and again, Zane’s tugs quick and tight.

“Augh, remind me to visit Kryptarium later and go scream at those assholes for doing this to me.”

“We could’ve gotten you to a proper hospital if you had spoken up earlier. This is your own fault.”

“Oh, yeah, blame the victim. Besides, I hate hospit- aaugh, Zane, are you almost done?”

“Done.” Zane neatly snipped the thread, and Nya slumped over onto the table, grinding her teeth together and clenching her fists.

She felt Zane’s hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

“Gaugh, I will be, but son of a bitch, that hurt!”

“Alright.” Zane’s voice suddenly sounded cross. “It’s over now. That language is no longer necessary.”

“Are you seriously scolding me for swearing right now?” The table muffled her yelp. “I’d like to see how you cope when your arm stings like hell.”

“Nya.”

“You’re impossible!” Sitting up, she told him, “If you’re going to be such a goody-two-shoes, could you at least get me an ice pack?”

Zane got her the ice, and after about half an hour, the pain had finally dulled to something she could sleep through.

Exhausted as she was, though, she wasn’t done yet.

“Come see me in the morning,” Zane was saying, cleaning up the last of the bottles and putting them back in Skylor’s medicine cabinet. “It should be fine, but I want to check just to be sure. And try not to sleep on that side. I don’t want the stitches coming out during the night.” As he turned to walk out of the room, Nya grabbed his wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He blinked. “To bed? Like any sensible person should be at this hour?”

“Not so fast, now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“You patched me up,” Nya told him as she turned and rustled through Skylor’s junk drawer. “It’s only fair that I return the favor.” She pulled out a few screwdrivers, some scrap metal, and- score, a circuit board. And in pristine condition, too! Skylor always had the best stuff lying around. When you could find it, that is.

“But Nya, I’m not injured!”

She put a hand on her hip, glancing him up and down. Scratches and dents littered the ice ninja’s skin, and if she knew Zane, that was usually an allusion to something bigger going on.

“Oh please, the four of you came back a mess.” She walked around him, inspecting him. “Don’t tell me you came out of that whole ordeal unscathed. And I didn’t see anyone check you over today. Aha-” leaning forward, she rapped her knuckles against a spot on his back, near the shoulder, and the panel shuddered beneath her touch. “I knew it. This section isn’t sturdy. Take off your shirt so I can get to it better.”

“Nya, I am a nindroid, injury is inconsequential-”

“I said, take off your shirt! Or are you going to make me do it for you?”

Zane sighed, pulling off his pajama top so that Nya could see the damaged area better. The panel appeared cracked and loose, so, gently, she pried it off, revealing several frayed and broken wires. Part of the exposed circuits were fried.

“And you were telling me off for hiding my injuries?”

“It’s hardly the same. Human bodies cannot withstand the amount of force that a nindroid’s can. Plus, you are susceptible to infection.”

“Zane, I don’t care!” She got to work snipping at the wires and pulling some of the damaged parts out. “You’re still one of us. Just because you can take this sort of damage doesn’t mean you should!”

“I know. I was just worried about the others.”

“Well, it’s about time you thought of yourself for once. You can’t properly care for us if you’re not functioning at full capacity, anyway.” Sticking the tweezers between her teeth, she readjusted the wires and got to work on the circuits.

“I… I don’t like asking for help.”

Nya’s fingers paused.

“‘E ei’er.” The tweezers muffled her words, but Zane got her point clear enough.

“Sometimes we do need help, though. We are part of a team for a reason, after all.”

Nya removed the tweezers and wiped her grease-stained hands on a towel. “You’re forgetting that I was Samurai X before I was a ninja. I didn’t need any help then.”

“I didn’t forget, I just remembered the important parts. We were still there for you afterward, even on your solo missions.”

Nya was quiet for a moment. “Maybe that was why it was so hard with you gone. It was like a piece of me was missing. I couldn’t fully uphold the Resistance without you guys there to help.”

Zane’s fingers skirted across his heart. “I don’t know how we went on, with part of our souls realms away.”

Nya put a hand over his. “But we’re here now.”

“But you weren’t. We have all the pieces again, but they feel… broken.”

“Hey.” Nya pressed the metal against the gap in his back, using the screwdriver to secure it into place. She leaned back, admiring her work. Good as new. “I fixed you, didn’t I? Nothing will stay broken forever.”

“I can fix a car,” Zane sighed. “Or the Bounty, or the oven, or myself. But I have no idea how one goes about putting pieces of a broken heart back together.”

Nya sat down next to him. Their eyes met- stunning, electrifying blue against deep, gentle brown. “Neither do I. But maybe… we can figure it out.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Together.”

“Together is good,” Zane agreed, putting his arm around her. “I think I like it a lot better than being alone.”

Sitting there, on the hard wooden chair, raw stitches in her shoulder, with Zane’s hard metal arms wrapped around her, she couldn’t have been in a more uncomfortable position. Yet Nya felt more at ease than she had in weeks.

For the first time since the guys had gone to the First Realm, Nya’s sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted.

[starrybouquet]

On Seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1

A note: I wrote a series of essays several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly crappy. I'm not particularly proud of them--they're pretty dramatic--but they do explain several of my more personal fandom feelings. I know I don't always tend to be the best at explaining things on the spot, so I'm posting these with the hope that I can refer people to them the next time that happens.

Um, I mentioned they're a little dramatic. I'm really, really sorry about that. But hey, if I can't be dramatic on Tumblr, in fandom, where else is that gonna go?

But still - if you're feeling a little sensitive today, maybe you wanna skip this. Or not. Just a light warning. :)

This piece is on seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1, but they aren't all Stargate-related. I'll be posting them in the next few days, hopefully.

To those of you who like s9-10: I have nothing against you. Some of you I know better, some less well. In general, though, I like you, you seem like fine people. This is not about you, I hold nothing against you for liking those seasons. In fact, I envy you. This is more a personal post about why I'm an idiot. If you want, feel free to scroll down past this. I won't be offended. I'd put it under the cut but I'm on mobile.

Okay. Why, hello, those of you willing to read this rant...

No matter how much I denounce and ignore it, I cannot get past the pain of seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG-1. I've never watched them in full. Seen a few episodes here and there.

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT stand the thought today. It hurts.

It's an old pain, and it's not just SG1. SG1 is just one of the highlights in a long line of books and shows that have repeatedly broken my heart by being SO GOOD and then taking an, uh, precipitous right turn, shall we say. Because a hard right seems too kind, and a precipitous drop too harsh.

I love SG1. I love love love it. I like the plots and I love the science, but what I really fell in love with was the characters.

I loved all of them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if Sam, Daniel, or Teal'c had been on any other show, I guarantee you they would have been my favorite by far. Jack is just so...Jack that he has to be my favorite. That's SG1 for you.

I've never had super close friends. I have good RL friends, don't get me wrong. They're nice people. But we don't have much in common.

That's okay. That's been my experience forever--really nice folks who maybe didn't always get me or have anything to say to me, but were good, decent people.

And this is good. Really, it is. It's just that SG-1, for me, has always represented the promise that there *are* people out there that are your true friends, and you will do brave and brilliant things with them. It will happen.

It's naive, I know. But I haven't been able to let it go. Maybe someday. But not right now.

Which brings me to s9-10 of SG1. It hurts.

It hurts that SG1 scattered to the wind.

It hurts that they sent Jack away from a place where he was happy, where he'd found friends and meaning in life again, away to fucking DC. To be...what? A politician? I could write a whole post just about this. Actually, I have. I could still write more posts about it!

It hurts that Sam went to Area 51, and nobody seemed to mind, the 'Gate didn't spontaneously combust as we were always led to believe it would.

It hurts that Daniel's personality supposedly changed that much, in the absence of his friends. Though some of his lines are funny, they aren't the earnest, idealistic, thoughtful Daniel I fell in love with. I get the idea that new-look Daniel would roll his eyes at s3-8 Daniel, and beat up floppy hair Daniel. And floppy hair Daniel is my baby and anyone who doesn't appreciate his brilliance can face my wrath. That includes you, buff s9-10 Daniel, and also whoever decided/approved that change in characterization.

Really, the only one who doesn't hurt is Teal'c. Because it feels like he's moving forward, toward happiness.

So...here we are. Season 9. Mitchell, Landry.

I often say I hate Mitchell. Do I resent him for replacing Jack? Yes. I do. We can talk about plot reasons and all that, but at the end of the day, I was going to hate anyone who tried to be Jack.

This is true in real life, too. You can't try to be anyone else. You've gotta walk your own path.

Now, people say that I didn't give Mitchell a chance. I say that the way he was portrayed, in the few episodes I've seen, tells me enough.

I can think of lots of ways Mitchell could have been interesting. How would Daniel and Teal'c react to an old, actually bad tempered (not Jack bad tempered, actually bad tempered) hardass after eight years of their best friends leading them? Or--start with his actual character. Mitchell, he hasn't been at the SGC. Wouldn't he get some flack from the longtime team leaders of SGs 2-5ish? They'd be insulted, right?

Or we could've gotten a nice Daniel Teal'c episode arc and then we could've had one Samantha Carter as team leader, though we won't get into that.

Bringing me to my next point. Co-leads?? Seriously?? You're trying too hard, folks. Telling me Sam used to know Mitchell does not actually make me like him.

Same thing with Landry. Unlike Mitchell, I guess I don't really have an opinion on Landry. He's just....there? No character development for this man.

Anyway, back to the team.

One of the things I love about SG1 is how the humor and friendship was so damn natural. Other than a few episodes (Urgo comes to mind), the plots weren't intentionally humorous. They were campy sci-fi plots sometimes, sure. They were funny because Jack was funny, yeah. They were lower budget than some other sci-fi. But they were as serious as sci-fi gets. It was how the characters reacted that made it funny.

Similarly, we were never told SG1 were found family. We just Knew. Because of the way they acted with each other. Because of the way Jack would "order" them to do things.

And hey, by the way, they weren't always family. Sam used to be less willing to ignore Jack. Daniel used to be less willing to trust Teal'c. Jack used to be a little more stern.

So...they meshed together. Like all found families do.

Every time I see a photo of new-look SG1 in seasons 9 and 10, I can't help but feel that they're trying too hard. I don't get the family feel because they aren't a family, damn it. It doesn't matter how many times you *tell* me they're super close. One of the reasons the original team got so close is because they all needed each other. Jack was depressed, Daniel was grieving, Sam was alone and had lost her mom and wasn't speaking with her dad and had never opened up to anyone in her life, Teal'c was an alien fighting for freedom after spending 100 years essentially as a slave.

And partly because of that, by season 9? Daniel and Teal'c (and Sam, when she comes back) don't need a family the way they used to. They have each other. They have Jack, or at least they *should*. *Glares in angry at Jack in DC vibes*

So...they simply don't have the relationship with Mitchell they do with each other.

It'd be different if Mitchell needed a family. It's not that SG1 hasn't added people before--I think Jonas is a perfect example of this. He wasn't Daniel, and that always hurt. But he was young, and naive, and innocent, and he needed SG1 because he'd left everything he'd ever known.

And that worked.

Without needing family, Mitchell is just a coworker. He can be a friendly coworker. A friend. But if he wanted to become better friends, family, he needed to show depth and vulnerability. He needed to need SG1.

And he never does, from what I've seen and heard about and read about. Or if he does need SG1, he doesn't need them badly enough to show more than an occasional bout of thoughtfulness before returning to his normal pale-Jack-imitation ways.

Now, I don't know why that is. I lean toward bad writing. I haven't watched Farscape (it's on my to watch list) but it seems like Ben Browder is a fine actor.

So, seasons 9 and 10 are probably fine TV. I'm never going to watch them through, so don't ask. I've tried and failed and every time it just tears my heart a little more and I'm won't be doing it again.

Those seasons...they just lost everything I watch SG-1 for, and so...yeah. I feel the hate strongly. Not because they're bad--I think they're different, not necessarily bad. My hate is only because in creating those seasons, they tore down the parts of SG1 that I loved most.

So s9-10 show me a few nice hugs and laughs? That's nice. I like comedies, I do. However...that's not my Stargate. Not the one I love. I liked the sarcastic one, the one full of wonder, the one where they had to scrape and claw their way through the galaxy with naivety and courage and brilliance. The one where they ate together, fought together, died together, were resurrected together.

It hurts, man. It hurts when the things I love turn into something that's lukewarm. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That's why we have fanfic. And, with any luck, I'll actually start that AU I've been talking about.

It's fanfic, and so it'll be my Stargate. The ending I wanted--which really wasn't an ending at all, more of a closure of one chapter of the story.

Damn, did that turn dramatic. Um, sorry about that, and also sorry for spilling my feelings all over you guys. Thanks for reading, if you got to the end of this.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Treat You Better–Zac Efron

Tumblr Request by @maximeevsblog​

The nice thing about TikTok is that videos repeat. The horrible and painful thing about TikTok is that videos repeat. So when a TikTok about how I'm not good enough for Zac and pointing out my flaws started roaming the For You Page, I couldn't seem to swipe up.

"Hey, babe. I'm home."

I jumped when I heard his voice and his footsteps coming down the hall. I quickly locked my phone right as he walked in.

"Hi," I said, clearing my throat. "How was the meeting? Are they renewing Down To Earth for a second season?"

"They did," he chuckled. His smile fell when he saw the look on my face. "Baby? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I tried to laugh off.

He put his backpack down and walked over to me. He studied me as he sat next to me on the couch. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"What's going on, babe?"

"Nothing," I said, my voice betraying me.

He sent me a knowing look as he reached over and grabbed my phone that I was trying to hide. The second he opened it, the TikTok started playing.

As the video played, his eyes sank and mine filled with tears. He paused the video and angrily put my phone down. I could see him turn towards me, but I couldn't face him. I knew what he was going to say. This isn't the first time his fans have attacked our relationship.

Zac and I have known each other long before his career. After I graduated high school, I moved out to LA with him and started attending law school at UCLA. At first, we were just best friends living together. But that changed after I broke up with my boyfriend.

I was dating a guy from my study group and later found out that he was cheating on me. The night I found out, I was broken. I sat on our couch, sobbing as Zac held me. He kept telling me that I deserved better. The next morning, I woke up and we had fallen asleep on the couch in each other's arms. Because of the breakup, I went into a severe depression episode.

After 16 days of me not moving from the couch, Zac tried to snap me out of it. He eventually got frustrated and let it slip that he would've treated me better and showed me what it meant to be in love. After the shock wore off, he confessed to being in love with me and I confessed being in love with him. We've been dating ever since.

When his fans found out he was dating a nobody, they were furious. All of his fans think that he should be dating a supermodel or a famous actress. When they learned he was dating a wannabe lawyer who was struggling to pass the bar exam, they thought it was out of pity. They didn't care that we've known each other our entire lives.

"Y/N," he started to say.

"I'm fine," I interrupted him. I stood up and started to walk away but he jumped up, grabbed my hand, and spun me around.

"Babe," he said gently, "we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," I stuttered as I looked down at our feet. "I just. . . It's fine."

I sucked in a breath when Zac reached forward and gently lifted my chin. His hand lingered on my cheek as he caught a tear with his thumb.

"It's not fine, Y/N," he whispered.

Zac grabbed my hand and led me back over to the couch. Once we were sitting down, he pulled me into his chest and laid us back against the cushions.

"It's not fine, baby," he sighed. I closed my eyes as he started rubbing my arm. "It's not fine that they attack you the way they do. It's not fine that they try and convince me I should break up with you. It's not fine they point out insecurities in you to try and get me to leave you. None of this is fine."

Zac leaned down and kissed my forehead. My eyes filled with tears as his lips lingered on my head. I heard him take a shaky breath before finally pulling his lips away.

"I love you," he whispered. "And that's all that matters, baby. I don't listen to them. I don't care what they say. I love you. You're my girl. You are my world. They are not."

"Zac," I said, my voice breaking as I sat up, his arms falling back to his side. "There's nothing. . . They will always. . . They will never like me, Zac."

"Y/N," he tried to interrupt me. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face.

"This is too much," I said, barely audible. "I can barely focus in class. I've failed all of my practice exams and I can't leave the house without being bombarded."

"Y/N, baby, please."

I didn't hear what else he said because I stood up and left the room. I hid in our room, trying to distract myself with my law books. I eventually fell asleep.

About an hour or so later, I felt someone carefully slipping my textbooks out from under me. I kept my eyes closed as the blanket was draped over me. I stirred as Zac slipped under the covers next to me. He kissed my temple before laying down and spooning with me.

"I love you so much, baby," he whispered. "Forget what they say. You are enough for me."

                         * * * * *

I woke up the next morning, feeling groggy. I rolled over but my stomach dropped when Zac wasn't next to me. As I sat up, the door opened.

"Morning, baby."

He walked in and immediately sat next to me, pulling me into his chest as he sat us against the headboard.

"What do you have planned for today?" He asked.

"I need to study," I said, my voice breaking. "I take another practice exam on Thursday."

"Well, that is five days away," Zac chuckled.

"I know, but. . ."

"Nope," he cut me off. "You are not studying today. You've been studying nonstop the past few weeks. Today, you are taking a break."

"Okay," I said, too tired to fight back. I felt him slightly shift, but I didn't turn towards him.

"Here's what I need you to do," he said, dropping his voice. "I need you to get up and get dressed."

I watched as he sat up and started heading downstairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he got to the door. He turned on his heel and smirked knowingly at me.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said, sending me a wink before leaving the room.

                         * * * * *

Once I was dressed, Zac and I enjoyed a small breakfast that he had made while I was getting ready. He then drove us to Beverly Hills. We walked around a few stores, but I didn't pick anything.

"Y/N," he sighed. Zac grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of a random store. "Baby, I want you to pick out a new outfit."

"But I don't need one," I mumbled.

"I know," he chuckled as he reached up and cupped my face in his hands. "But you deserve one. So, you are going to pick out a new outfit. Then I'm taking you to get your hair and nails done."

"Why?"

Zac sent me a sad look before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. When he broke the kiss, his eyes were soft.

"Because I love you," he whispered. "And you and I are going on a fancy date tonight. We haven't gone on an actual dinner-date in a long time due to my filming schedule and your study schedule. So, we are tonight."

We walked into another store, but nothing jumped out. There were some really cute outfits, but when I went to grab them, I knew I wouldn't look good in anything.

"Y/N, baby, what's going on?"

I tried to say nothing, but he sent me a knowing look. "Fine," I sighed. "Whatever I try on, doesn't look right on me. And all I can hear is those girls telling me I'm ugly, I'm fat, and I'm worthless."

Zac cut me off by grabbing my face and aggressively pressing his lips to mine. I immediately started kissing him back as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly into his chest. We broke apart when I couldn't breathe.

"I am going to say this as clearly as I can," Zac said as I caught my breath. "I don't listen to my fans when they talk about you or our relationship. You are beautiful. You are perfect. And you are worth more than any project I've ever worked on. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too," I said, my voice breaking.

Zac smiled before pressing a softer kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, his smile was still there.

"See?" He chuckled. "That's all that matters."

I let out a small giggle and sighed. "I'm sorry, baby. I know I've been all over the place. I just. . ."

"It's okay," he said simply. "I know you're really stressed about your bar exam and finding your internship. It's understandable, baby."

"You don't deserve this."

"Whoa," he said instantly. "You don't deserve a boyfriend who leaves the country suddenly and often can't contact you. But you deal with it. So, I am dealing with your busy study schedule."

I bit my lip as I studied the love in his eyes. I caught him off-guard as I grabbed his face and brought his lips down to mine. I felt him smile into the kiss as he started kissing me back.

I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against his. "I love you so much, baby," I whispered. "And I promise that things will slow down soon."

"At least on your end," he smirked.

I smiled as he grabbed my hand and led me into the next store. I finally got more into it, having more fun with him. I actually let him pick out my outfit for tonight. When we got to the salon, I let him pick out what the hairdresser did with my hair and what color the manicurist put on my nails.

By the time we got back to our apartment, I felt completely different than I did when we left. We started getting ready for dinner, feeling like our old selves again. When I was finally ready, I looked at myself in the mirror. I smiled as I examined the outfit that Zac picked out for me.

"Damn," he whispered as he walked in. I turned around, my cheeks burning red when I saw the way he was looking at me.

"If the acting thing doesn't work out, you should be a personal shopper."

Zac laughed as he walked over and pulled me into his chest. With a smirk plastered on his face, he pressed his lips to mine. I let out a soft moan as our lips moved in sync. I broke the kiss and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

"Aren't we going to be late for dinner?" I asked.

Zac just smirked as he tightened his arms around my waist. He leaned down and pressed a short kiss to my lips.

"You're worth it."

                         * * * * *

Zac never let go of my hand the entire ride to the restaurant. He always did this. Whenever we were in the car, one hand was on the wheel but the other was always either holding my hand or massaging my knee. Touch was clearly his love language.

Throughout dinner, Zac seemed to never look away from me. The butterflies in my stomach felt like the same ones I got when Zac first told me he loved me. For one night, I finally forgot about the comments, the stares, and the judging fans.

As we waited for our dessert, I noticed Zac change. His smile wasn't as big and it seemed like something was on his mind.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he stuttered. He laughed when he saw the look of disbelief on my face. "Okay, I was thinking about that TikTok from yesterday."

"Oh," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No," he said quickly. "It's not. . . I just mean that I was thinking about how to respond to it."

"Respond to it?" I stuttered. "Zac, please tell me you didn't duet the video of the girls telling their viewers how unworthy I am of you."

He bit his lip and smiled cheekily at me. "Zac," I sighed. "I thought we agreed to ignore these comments and accusations."

"We did," he sighed. "But I had to defend you."

My heart jumped into my throat as he grabbed his phone out of his suit pocket.

"This is what I posted," he said, pulling up the TikTok app. "Try not to look so scared."

I held my breath as the video started playing. In his video, Zac cut of the video and immediately started telling our story. He told them how we met when we were kids and were inseparable. He told them how I moved to LA to be with him. He told them how I was dating an asshole who cheated on me. He told me how he let it slip that he was in love with me and I told him how I was in love with him. My eyes started to water as he finished the video.

"I love Y/N with everything I have. There is nothing wrong with her or us. She is my soulmate. I love her and she loves me. That's enough for us and it should be enough for you guys."

He looked off the camera, his smile widening. When he looked back at the camera, his voice was softer.

"I love Y/N," he said, his voice cracking. "She's all that matters to me. If I were to lose my job tomorrow, I wouldn't care. But if I lost Y/N? My life would be over. If you make me chose the love of my life or my fans, I'm sorry but I chose Y/N. Every time."

As the video started to replay, I looked up at Zac studying me. I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears. I put his phone on the table and stood up, leaning over the table. Zac smiled at me as he stood up. We leaned over the table and pressed our lips together.

To keep him from pulling away, I grabbed his face. I felt him smile into the kiss as our lips moved in sync. I finally broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against his.

"I love you, baby," I whispered. "So much."

"I love you too."

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part II)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I, here is part II. 

CLAIM #3: Arthur *constantly* denied that Merlin was his friend

This claim assumes that Arthur was 1)- serious when he did deny being friends with Merlin and 2)- unwilling to change that viewpoint.

Arthur had no need to either deny or admit to being friends with Merlin. Even when he said in episode 2x13 that, “I know I’m a Prince, so we can’t be friends,” the implication is that he does want to be friends. After all, he was insisting that Merlin confide in him. This pattern would repeat in many episodes to come. 

Bear in mind that Arthur has described other people as friends, too. This includes people we never saw onscreen. A clear example comes from episode 5x05, when Arthur was so moved with grief by Sir Ranulf’s death that he personally led a collection of knights to bring the sorcerer Osgar to justice. He explained to Gwen that “...he was a friend. We knew each other as boys.”

So why would Arthur have trouble admitting that Merlin was his friend? The viewpoint that being more arrogant and prejudiced in the earlier seasons, Arthur would not admit to friendship with a servant, does not hold as much water as some think. As early as episode 2x05, Arthur called Merlin a “true friend”, because he (mistakenly) thought that Merlin was criticising Lady Catrina on his behalf. 

Admittedly, the best examples of Arthur accepting Merlin as a friend come from Seasons 4 and 5. 

In episode 4x01, Merlin said, “I always thought that if things hadn’t been different, we’d have been good friends.” Arthur’s response? “Yeah.” During the crucial episode 4x03, Merlin sat outside the throne room all right, facing a crossroads between the end of his dreams and remaining loyal to the king. Of course, Arthur had no idea about this, but he appreciated the gesture. “You are a loyal friend, Merlin.” In episode 4x05, Arthur called Merlin “old friend”, which is self-explanatory. 

It’s also worth noting that even after claiming in episode 4x05 that he didn’t need friends, when Merlin later said, “I’m your friend!”, Arthur did not disagree. 

Now, I could cite the example of episode 4x07, where Arthur said to Merlin, “I’ve had my heart broken once today. I don’t want to lose another friend.” Self-explanatory. But was this proof of their friendship? No. Arthur was essentially threatening to end his friendship with Merlin if the latter continued criticising Agravaine. Later, in episode 4x11, Arthur again threatened to banish Merlin for the second time (thus ending their friendship) if he accused Agravaine of treason again. This once again shows how Arthur associated loyalty with family first. 

One of the best examples comes from episode 4x13: “I came back because you’re the only friend I have, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Is Merlin Arthur’s only friend? No. However, out of all Arthur’s friends, Merlin was his best friend, and losing almost everyone and everything else made him realise that yet again. 

Then we have all the actions which prove Arthur considered Merlin as a friend. 

For example relied on Merlin’s opinion, as Princess Mithian rightly observed in episode 4x11. “One thing I’ve learned since being here is that Arthur values your opinion above almost all others.” 

He complained about Merlin’s periods of silence and broodiness, like in episode 3x05: “Come on: I’m missing your usual prattle!” In episode 3x09, after noting that Merlin was upset, he said, “For goodness’ sake, what is your problem?”

Another example comes from episode 5x01, where Arthur noted Merlin sitting outside the camp and took the time to find out why he was “so upset”. 

The example from episode 5x05 is self-explanatory: “Seriously, I haven’t seen you smile these past three days.” Arthur relies on Merlin’s cheerfulness to remain optimistic, because he faces the constant threat of death. Notice that shortly after Merlin’s sombre mood, Arthur stopped dismissing Osgar’s warnings about The Disir.

As if this were not enough, look at Arthur spending downtime with Merlin. A great example comes from episode 3x04, where Arthur decides on “a nice, cold tankard of mead” after hunting. In episode 3x13, both were sitting on the courtyard steps discussing the future of the kingdom. Even despite his strenuous denials and ingratitude in episode 4x05, you can see Arthur gesture for Merlin to sit down the morning after they captured Caerleon.

What about all the hunting trips? Arthur knows that Merlin hates hunting (in fact, he takes pleasure in this fact), yet still brought him along, as episodes 1x13, 3x04, 4x11, 5x03, and 5x11 show. 

By far my favourite example comes from episode 5x12, when Arthur and Merlin were playing dice at the tavern. (I don’t know iwhat this game was called.) In my view, this happened regularly. Why else would the common people watch and laugh while Merlin poked fun at their king? (Percival’s face was classic.) And why was Arthur playing against Merlin? When did Merlin learn how to play dice? Who taught him? When? 

Obviously, I do not know, but it’s worth asking. 

Despite being speechless after Merlin “won” the game, Arthur let Merlin “win” all of his money. (Clearly, Arthur was the better player: “Feel free to retire at any time.” The king only used theatrics to get the right dice roll, while Merlin cheated with magic each time. If Merlin hadn’t “coughed”, then Arthur would have rolled correctly a second time. Hence why Arthur said beforehand, “Enjoy this moment, Merlin… while it lasts.”) 

Look at Arthur, who was dressed in a plain shirt, rather than his armour and cloak. When we put this scene in conjunction with episode 3x04, where Arthur again wore plain clothes, we can see that he enjoyed these moments of normality. “There’s no better place to measure the mood of your people than the local tavern… I’m just a simple peasant like everybody else.”

So where is this strenuous denial? Nowhere. Arthur never constantly denied that Merlin was his friend. Nor did he only admit this in secret, otherwise the great dice scene in episode 5x12 would never have happened. Sure, the people might have been astonished to see their great king playing against a servant, but they must also have known that if Arthur allowed himself to be “beaten” at a game by his servant, the latter must be his friend. 

CLAIM #4: Merlin was usually/always (in the) right

Wrong. Being right most of the time does not mean being right all of the time. Merlin failed to realise this, and consequently made grievous errors throughout the series. The most grievous errors came when he tried to fight against death. Episode 3x05 shows this; all of the grief and pain suffered by Arthur, Gwen, and Uther stemmed from Merlin mortally injuring Morgana in a bid to prevent her from killing the king. 

He effectively ignored the warning to “use what you see for good.” 

Then we have the example to end all examples; Merlin’s recklessness, presumptuousness, bold-faced hypocrisy, coldness, prejudice, and most of all, jealousy towards Sir Mordred. 

Even as early as episode 1x08, Merlin almost let the boy Mordred die on account of a prophecy. At least back then he questioned it before hiding in bed like a coward. Mordred also blamed Merlin for Uther’s carnage in episode 2x11, though in the case of that episode and episode 2x03, I think Merlin’s actions were no worse than presumptuous. 

It gets far worse in episode 5x02, when Merlin yelled, “You should have killed him!”, to which Arthur rightly said, “What is wrong with you?” Mordred saw that he could not jump across the gorge, so he surrendered and walked away. (He probably knew that Arthur would arrive in Ismere soon, as his later conversation with Morgana demonstrates.) 

Later on, Arthur gave Merlin another strange look after Merlin said, “I told you, you should have killed him when you had the chance.” How could someone usually so compassionate insist on executing a man who stopped threatening them?

Remember how Merlin reacted to Arthur killing Caerleon in episode 4x05, despite having plenty of evidence that Caerleon was a threat to Arthur’s life?

By the way, episodes 5x01 and 5x02 are my favourite examples of Merlin being horrendously wrong. Other episodes include 5x05, and the crucial errors he made in episode 5x11. (I watched most of episode 5x11 last Sunday, and I was floored. It shook me more than 5x12 and 5x13, which I had also been avoiding for years.) 

Going back to episodes 5x01 and 5x02 (because episode 5x11 is too depressing): if Arthur had listened to Merlin’s “advice”, he would have abandoned his knights to a slow death in slavery. He would also have committed murder, simply on Merlin’s say-so. If you kill someone who is defenceless and has surrendered, that is murder-- regardless of whether, like Merlin, you are desperately scared of a prophecy and speaking without thinking. 

Also, if Arthur had rushed back to Camelot on Merlin’s say-so, he might well have been assassinated by Ruadan. 

Most of all, almost everything that Merlin “advised” violated Arthur’s core beliefs-- the very beliefs that made Merlin respect Arthur in the first place. It’s astonishing that Arthur had to explain no less than five times that he would never abandon any of his men, otherwise he would be abandoning his own values and the values that built Camelot. 

So desperate is Merlin to fight against death that he either quietly ignores this advice, or claims he agrees, only to try dissuading Arthur later on. 

Just to be clear: I perfectly understand that beneath all Merlin’s horrible advice and prevarication, he does not want to lose his friend. 

However, just watch Merlin’s marvellous inconsistency throughout episode 5x01. First, he plays Devil’s Advocate by asking Arthur, “Do you really think Gwaine and Percival could still be alive?” Arthur says he has to find out, because they are knights of Camelot. Merlin says, “I understand.” Of course he did. 

Bear in mind that this happened before Merlin learned of the prophecy. Some have therefore asked what made Merlin unwilling to look for the missing knights, who were his friends. 

In Annis’ castle, Merlin said, “I’m not sure we should go to Ismere.” On the other hand, Arthur, acting on reliable information that Morgana had rounded up slaves, took this as a sign that his mission was right. Merlin tried arguing, then gave up. One might assume that after two rational explanations, Merlin would see reason, particularly since even Kilgharrah could not confirm that the fated battle would take place. 

But no. After the knights left Annis’ lands, Merlin complained again that Morgana was “powerful… dangerous.” So, Arthur explained yet again that “no matter what lies ahead of me, I won’t abandon them.” Merlin respected this answer, because he said, “I understand. I wish I didn’t-- but I do.” (Why does he wish he did not understand why Arthur would risk his life for all of his soldiers?) 

But the very next day, after the ambush, Merlin turned to rage: “The two of us against Morgana, are you mad?” He tried stopping Arthur from going any further. So Arthur explained himself again. Consequently, Merlin continued following Arthur. 

The very same night, he once again insisted that, “We have to turn back.” Arthur explained himself yet again, and Merlin promised to “protect you or die at your side.”

Which one is it? Not to mention that in episode 5x02, instead of apologising for his carelessness, Merlin said, “And I told you to go back to Camelot.” This is silly, given that Arthur had already refused to return on numerous occasions until he had rescued his men, assuming they were still alive. 

The most hilarious example comes later, when Merlin says, “We can’t let them hand us over to Morgana: we need to get out of here, we need a plan.” But when Arthur comes up with that plan, what does Merlin say? “You’ve got to be joking!”, “You should have killed him!”, “Next time, we might not be so lucky.”, “We’ll never make it in there.”, and “How did you talk me into this?” 

Again, which one is it?

I know why Merlin behaved this way, of course. However, there’s a difference between the noble goal of protecting your friend, and ignoring everything and everyone else in order to reach that goal-- particularly through controlling means. Throughout the series, Merlin’s biggest fault comes from his controlling tendencies, which always backfire. And he never learns.  

In this way, Merlin shackled Arthur with unrealistic expectations about a Golden Age based on prophecies that he could not verify. Somehow, this Golden Age had now become evading Arthur’s death. He wanted Arthur to share that belief. Worse, even while his motives came from a noble goal, he treated other people as expendable. 

Another example of Merlin’s absurd reasoning comes from the fateful episode 5x05. Putting aside the fact that Merlin tried claming that sentencing Mordred to die was an acceptable price to pay “for Camelot”, he also previously claimed that, “I do care. About who you are, Arthur. Who you are destined to become.” 

This makes zero sense, given that Arthur had already taken the throne and “brought peace to the kingdom” (episode 5x03). What more did he have to achieve? It depends on who you ask: bringing back magic, uniting the five kingdoms, eternal peace, avoiding the prophecy about Mordred, bowing to the Triple Goddess, being the greatest king this land has ever known… 

Can you see how unrealistic this is? Moreover, can you see how Merlin used Arthur as a vehicle of his own unrealistic ambitions? This is why the Golden Age never happened: it was a myth. It allowed the Druids, Gaius, Kilgharrah, etc. to live vicariously through the new king. 

Bringing back magic was impossible while Morgana continued using it for great evil. (And the Triple Goddess, who complained about Arthur persecuting sorcery, allowed Morgana to continue that evil conduct.)

Arthur did take considerable steps to uniting the kingdoms, particularly when he signed a treaty with King Odin in episode 5x04. But eternal peace? Impossible, otherwise episodes 5x01 and 5x02 would not have happened. 

The unbiquitous prophecy about Mordred was never backed by evidence, leaving Merlin in a state of constant paranoia, and causing him to make horrible errors. This despite the fact that, by his own admission, “I like him [Mordred] myself.” [1]

Bowing to the Triple Goddess was nothing but blackmail using Mordred’s life as a bargaining chip. This once again shows how many sorcerers had caused chaos and misery. Remember, this same Triple Goddess used torture techniques such as controlling people’s minds using the Fomorroh, as Morgana explained in episode 4x06. 

While I believe that the persecution of peaceful sorcerers was wrong, Arthur had no quarrel with the Druids (episode 5x11), and he still had good reason for banning sorcery (also explained in episode 5x11). Nobody, not even Merlin, gave him a reason to change his mind. Kara definitely did not, for she wasn’t executed for being a Druid: she was executed for murder and attempted murder. 

As for being the greatest king this land had ever known… Well, Arthur appreciated that statement in episode 4x12. However, when Merlin spoke of the greatest kingdom in the world in episode 4x13, Arthur said, “You’re making this up.”

In episode 5x01, Merlin claimed that, “Arthur, without you, Camelot is nothing.” Arthur disagreed, saying that abandoning his men was worse than surviving Morgana. Even in episode 5x04, Arthur accepted his death. “So be it. But understand this, Odin: you kill me, and you’ll have all of Camelot to answer to.” Odin was astonished that a king could have such confidence in the face of death. 

The most important example comes from episode 5x13. Merlin said the same thing about Camelot being nothing without Arthur, to which the dying king said, “There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown.” And of course, he gave the royal seal to Gwen. Can anyone argue with this? 

I guess you could say that Arthur didn’t believe his own hype.

Indeed, Arthur felt satisfied about what he had achieved in his life. “Everything you’ve done, I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build.” (Episode 5x13). That was it. Arthur knew that he had changed Camelot for the better, that Merlin killing his half-sister had brought “peace at last”, and that he owed Merlin an unpayable debt for helping him to achieve all of these goals. 

Why did Arthur accept the certainty of his death for so long? Because he believed his cause was right, and his death would help save the lives of thousands in Camelot. Dying in service to Camelot was his real destiny. It was inevitable, and to him, it was the most honourable act he would ever undertake. 

You cannot know how great you will be until you die. “That’s the way things work, I’m afraid. You get the glory when you’re not around to appreciate it.” (Episode 4x06). At that point, you will never see your legacy. Merlin either did not know that, or he did not want to know it. 

Arthur’s death ultimately serves as the greatest evidence that Merlin was wrong the whole time.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART III

FOOTNOTES

[1]  I don’t doubt that Merlin liked Mordred. In fact, the scene in episode 5x05, where Merlin buried Osgar, shows how difficult it was for him to maintain his mistrust when the druid was so polite and perceptive. So why the contradiction? Why claim you like someone, yet insist that they would commit regicide? The answer is that Merlin used the prophecy as an excuse. In fact, his prejudice against Mordred had more to do with jealousy than the prophecy. After being involved in an attempt to trade Arthur and Merlin as slaves to Morgana, Arthur knighted the druid for one noble act. Did Merlin aspire to be a knight? I don’t know. He definitely wanted that same level of trust and respect given to Mordred, though, and knighthood created a bond that a servant could not have.

[mooresomore]

Season 5 Wishlist

The trailers today got me to thinking about what I want to see in season 5. Without further ado, I give you my wishlist:

-Eddie looking over to Buck when Buck says he got the tsunami alert and giving him a soft smile and saying, “it’s not happening again”.

-Buck looking over to Eddie with the mudslide alert and saying, “I can’t do that again. I went crazy last time there was mud and water involved.” Eddie just looks at Buck (he has no clue about the above-ground happenings during the well incident), and Hen fills Eddie in. Eddie walks over to Buck and gives him a big hug.

-Lena joining the team and asking Eddie about if he’d finally got his head out of his ass yet. Eddie just shakes his head, and Lena says, “Please tell me your team hasn’t had to bail you out of jail again.” And Eddie says he’s getting better and he hasn’t been to a fight club in a long time because he has “healthier” ways of getting his aggression out. Lena chooses to not read into that.

-Ana and Eddie and Taylor and Buck breaking up. (Not a lot to say here really).

-More movie nights with Eddie, Buck, and Christopher. At least give us one. (You know they totally happen weekly). And Buck making an off-hand comment to Eddie like, “You need more milk. I noticed when I was making pancakes the other morning that you were running low”. The team’s just staring at them; Buck and Eddie look at the rest of the team like “What?!”

-Give me a “trapped in a close space” scene with Buck and Eddie where they have to figure out a way to be in each other’s space without being in each other’s space.

-Give me Chimney being supportive of Maddie as she deals with her post-partum depression. (And I’d like to see that explored on screen a little)

-I want to see May come into her own at dispatch. And Sue being a good role model.

-I need Josh trying to set Buck up with someone after Buck breaks up with Taylor, only for Buck to pass on it.

-Or better yet, he agrees, and tells Eddie, and we get jealous!Eddie who refuses to speak to Buck for a week. (They have to communicate through Christopher, who tires very quickly of their antics and makes them figure things out).

-Give me all the Christopher being the cutest kid ever content too!

-Give me Hen and Karen fostering some more kiddos. And Hen and Cindy getting to be (sort-of) friends. I want to see Hen excelling in medical school as well.

-I want Bobby and Athena to go to counseling to talk about their issues. Especially if Athena’s going to confront her attacker. I think they both need it.

-Give me Albert asking Buck if he can take over the lease since Buck “is never here anyway. You’re usually over with Eddie and Christopher, or Taylor, when you were dating her. You’re like the roommate that I know I have but I never see.” Buck stares at Albert because that’s not true, until he realizes, oh shit, it is true.

-Which leads to an awkward conversation with Eddie, where Buck basically says, “You didn’t have to have me stay if you didn’t want me to. I’ll get out of your hair.” Eddie tries to reason with Buck, but it doesn’t work. They’re both mopey idiots who refuse to address the elephant in the room, until Bobby threatens them (gently, because it is Bobby) because it is starting to affect their work performance.

-Speaking of elephants, how awesome would it be if one of the escaped animals was an elephant, and there’s a crack about the “elephant in the room” while everyone looks at Buck and Eddie. Buck just spouts off some random fact about elephants while Eddie stares on, and the team can’t believe how dense they are.

-Give me Eddie saving Buck from the camel, only to turn around and get startled by it.

Oh lord, I have so many more things I want, but I can’t think of them right now. Maybe there will be a part 2 later.

[lovingrosewho]

The Executioner’s Song (rewrite, sort of)

NOW, ONTO THE GOOD STUFF, and that means, the new stuff :-) I’ve been rewatching all Supernatural seasons and just had to write this. Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language, feel free to give any feedback/suggestions! <3 Ily all, thanks for reading <3

ONE SHOT

Pairing: Crowley x Reader, sort of Castiel x Reader but in a friendly way

Rating: T. Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: the title pretty much explains it buuut, basically, Reader gets upset about Dean betraying Crowley

Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED SEASON 10, signs of depression, dialogues taken from the series at the beginning, a few curse words I guess?

When Dean handles the First Blade over to Castiel instead of Crowley, your eyes open wide in shock.

“You lied to me” Crowley says, you can sense the hurt from the betrayal in his voice.

“It’s not the first time today” Dean makes a pause with the demon’s expectant eyes “Cain’s list? You weren’t on it” Dean says and with this, Crowley vanishes.

You begin to feel dizzy, nauseous even, a void made of uncertainty taunts your heart and your stomach, you try to hide it behind being worried about Dean, which is partly true and you let that show as you hug him, relieved he’s alive, in one piece and, mostly, or so it seems, sane. Castiel looks over at you and you just know, he knows.

 The four of you get to the bunker. Not a word from anyone. At the very arrival, you excuse yourself pretending a headache along the tiredness of the whole trip, so you practically run to your room.

The minute you close the door you dial Crowley’s cellphone, your hands shaking as you do so.

 Straight to voice mail. You dial again.

“Damn it Crowley, pick up the fucking phone” you pray lowly.

 Voice mail again. You’ve got to be kidding. You dial a third time.

“What is it that you want?” he finally answers, voice tone a bit raised, taking into account it’s you and he never raises his voice with you, either way, you can’t but let a breath out of relief at hearing him.

“Can you come over here? Please, I’m in my room” you’re not finished telling him and he hangs up.

“Damn it Crowley!” you exclaim again while you dial his number a fourth time, the second ring hasn’t sound when he appears standing in front of you.

“What?!” he almost screams, locking the door of your room with his demon powers. He’s not afraid about Sam and Dean coming in, all guns waving and pointing at him, no, he fears for you, aware that if the Winchesters hear you, not only will they scold you, but could also stop trusting you, hell, they could even lock you up thinking it was his doing the fact that you were friends with him.

“I didn’t know!” you confess instantly, body trembling and feeling like you’re going to puke any minute. You know how Crowley feels about treason, you know damn well and you just can’t let him think you had anything to do with it. He takes a few steps back and looks at you up and down.

“Why should I believe you, (Y/N)? And how? How am I supposed to believe you? Tell me” he raises his voice once again, he doesn’t like doing that with you but this time he just can’t help himself “If you four had only told me the truth I would have gladly agreed and helped you!”

“I know, I know!” you whimper, knowing that is a big-ass declaration from Crowley, and that he wouldn’t normally admit to it, he’s just doing it because it’s you, and he’s hurt. You try to maintain your posture and not let your voice crack weeping “I swear, I had nothing to do with it, if I had known I’d have tried to convince Dean to tell you the truth! I swear!”

Crowley is about to vanish, tired of listening to you, tired of the lies, of the doubts; first his minions being influenced by Abaddon, then his mother, next the Winchesters and now... he never thought he would doubt of his most beloved hunter. A single tear escapes your eyes and Crowley stops dry from disappearing, the temptation to remove that single tear being more powerful than him, the King of Hell.

You’ve known Crowley since he was a blood junkie, locked up in the Winchester’s dungeon. Your friendship started as a naïve excuse to pass the time, at first with just a couple of hostile phrases a day when you found him, and obviously discovered he was a demon, not just any demon but the King of Hell himself, and soon after it turned into something else. When you broke your arm in a fight and had to spend a couple of months skipping on hunts, the boredom increased your time in the dungeon with Crowley while the boys were gone, and you began to admit you liked the guy, perhaps a little too much. Months kept passing and the habit of sneaking into Crowley’s room while the boys were out, stayed, sometimes you would even take the cuffs and chains off of him and let him walk and stretch inside the devils trap, he would always behave and let you put the chains back on. When he managed to free himself from the brothers, he would visit you in your room when no one else in the bunker could hear you; you would talk about anything, his life, your life, Hell, current or past hunts, funny anecdotes... you were not ready to lose that. Not now, not ever. 

Crowley stares deep into your eyes as he holds your face in both his hands and wipes the tear off your cheek. 

“Look at me... and tell me if I’m lying” you say slowly. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Pet. I can’t” and with this final sentence, he leaves the room, disappearing and leaving you alone.

You swallow hard, your steps conducting you backwards until you hit the end of the bed and are able to sit. At last, you break down in tears, sobs and whines flooding you from the inside out when you hear a knock at the door. 

“(Y/N)?” it’s Castiel “(Y/N) are you okay?”

You don’t respond, and Cas is forced to unlock the door and come in. He stares in shock at you but immediately locks the door back so Sam and Dean won’t come up asking questions. He sits next to you and doubtfully touches your shoulder for you to look at him, which you don’t do.

“He won’t talk to me ever again Castiel” you say in between sobs.

 “Who won’t?” he asks confused, but having a mild idea of who you might be referring to.

 “Crowley! He thinks I knew about Dean handing over the blade to you and not him...” you keep whimpering “He won’t believe me, whatever we had it’s over”.

 Cas nods understandingly and reaches out to hug you, your face covering his chest with tears.

 “(Y/N) maybe it’s for the best... Crowley is...” he begins but you interrupt him, separating from his grip.

 “No you don’t understand. He’s changed. I know it seems impossible but he has. And he truly believed he could be friends with us, I know it, I know him. Castiel I...” your voice breaks.

“(Y/N)” he intertwines his hand with yours “I know”.

He holds you again, and you cry and cry for hours in that same position with him until you fall asleep. Castiel lifts you up and leaves you laying across your bed, he takes your shoes off and puts a few blankets on top of you.

When he comes down everything is quiet, the Winchesters have surely gone to sleep, or at least get some rest after the day they’ve had.

The following morning you don’t come out of your room, not for breakfast, dinner, research, anything.

“What’s up with (Y/N)?” Deans asks, looking towards your room.

“She...” Castiel tries to explain “Wasn’t feeling very well. I’ll go check on her”.

The brothers look at each other and nod at Castiel’s offer.

“Hey, could you please bring her something to eat?” Sam asks politely.

“Yes. Of course” Cas answers.

When he enters your room, he notices you haven’t changed your clothes, and you’re in the same position he left you last night.

“(Y/N)?” he says, leaving a tray of food on your desk “How are you feeling?”

“Not hungry” you say without facing him, smelling the hot breakfast he just left a couple of feet away from you.

“Well... you need to eat. You’re human” he reminds you.

“So? Not hungry” you repeat. He sits beside you and slightly caresses your hair.

“Okay then, we’ll be downstairs if you need us... or just, you know, pray for me” he tells you before getting up and prepare to leave your room until you jump all of a sudden. 

“Wait! Castiel!” you say, startling him.

“What? Whats is it?”

“Please... don’t tell Dean what this is about... he’ll just... he wouldn’t understand” you beg him. Cas nods his head in agreement. 

“Of course”.

When Cas comes down, both Winchesters are looking at him, raising his hands as asking what is going on.

“It’s... like I said, she’s not feeling very well” he tells them when he’s at the table with both.

“Well what does she have?” Deans asks demandingly.

 “I... she wouldn’t say” Cas lies, which gains him a weird look from Dean.

 “Ok that’s it, I’m going up” declares Dean and Cas gets up sharply.

 “Dean! No! She said she didn’t wanna be bothered” Castiel exclaims worried.

 The weird look on Dean remains until he rolls his eyes, says “fine” and heads for the kitchen instead.

 Sam has stayed silent the whole time until Dean leaves.

 “Cas” Sams calls him in a low voice “Is this about Crowley?”

 Castiel sighs and nods.

 “Guess she’ll just have to pull through with this one” Sam follows Castiel’s sigh.

 You don’t go out of your room for two days in a row, sadness consuming you. The third day you decide you’ve had enough and come downstairs to help the boys with research, no one says a word but Dean.

“Hiya there kiddo, had us worried sick but Cas said you didn’t wanna be bothered, everything okay?” Dean tells you, making you smile softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you know, some headaches, it felt like I was hungover the whole day, guess that tension from the last adventure really took a hit on me” you lie marvelously. 

“Yeah. But you’re back, we are back, and that’s what matters” Dean tells you and you smile nodding, containing your tears again, you know you are not fully back.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Crowley won’t answer any of your calls, hence you stop calling him.

You miss him, you miss his voice and spending time with him. The boys notice even if you’re back up enlisting on hunts and helping them, something’s definitely off with you. You don’t eat enough, you practically don’t sleep, you barely smile or laugh anymore, and you seem distracted half of the time. It hurts Castiel more than anyone seeing you like this, so he decides to break his vow and talk to Dean.

“You have to call Crowley” he tells Dean when he and Sam are alone in the bunker whilst you are in your room “You have to tell him it was your idea to give the blade to me, you can even mention Sam but not (Y/N)”.

“And why would I do that?” Dean asks confused and a bit angry.

“Look around you Dean” Sam tells him “Something’s off with (Y/N) since that day, it’s not even 9pm and she’s already locked in her room, she didn’t even eat when we got back”.

Dean looks at both of them and grunts.

“How are you so sure this is about Crowley?”

 “Because she told me” Castiel confesses “Now, call him”.

 Dean looks impassive at Cas and Sam but takes his phone out and dials Crowley’s number.

 First call goes to voice mail.

 “Well that’s it, I’m not calling that dickbag again” he declares and Cas catches his arm, grabbing and stopping him from putting away his cellphone.

 “Try again” Castiel threatens. Dean rolls his eyes but agrees.

 “Squirrel, long time no see” Crowley finally answers “How are you?”

 “Listen you son of a bitch” Dean begins “I don’t know what you did or told (Y/N) but...”

 “Oh I didn’t tell, much less do, anything to her”.

 It hasn’t been easier for Crowley. He’s got the advantage he doesn’t eat nor sleep, but distraction has definitely been present. Every time his mother or his minions call him he’s just thinking of you, about answering your calls, about calling back. He misses you, your voice, your laugh.

“Well she hasn’t been okay and the only thing I know is it has to do with you” Dean tells him “She hasn’t anything to do with the fact that I didn’t handle you the blade, that’s on me, Sam and perhaps Cas, but not her. She knew nothing, you hear me? Nothing. ‘Cause see here’s the thing, we didn’t tell her ‘cause I knew you two got along and if I had told her she would have put up a fight and claim it was unfair. Now she won’t sleep, nor eat enough, she’s distracted on hunts and that almost got her killed a couple of times already, so you either fix it or I’ll come down there looking to kill you Crowley I swear”.

With this last phrase he hangs up and throws his phone away, without expecting Crowley to answer, this is non-negotiable.

The King of Hell’s stomach suddenly fills with hope and excitement, it’s not the fact that Dean called him about what happened, no, it’s just that he did not know you cared that much for him, he’d figured after a while you would stop calling and move on.

You wake up in the middle of the night and... what time is it exactly? Phone says 3am. Great. You sit slowly, yawning, still sleepy, and turn on your bedside lamp.

Suddenly you see Crowley standing in front of you and you almost scream whilst reaching for your gun.

“Crowley! For the love of... what the actual hell are you doing in my room?!” you hiss at him, exasperated, tossing the gun aside.

“Well hello to you too, love” he exclaims sarcastically.

“Answer the question, what are you doing here?” you ask again, tired and afraid this is just some sick joke.

“I was bored. Thought I’d pay you a visit” he says walking, or more like snooping, around your room. 

“And you needed to do that at 3 in the morning? When I’m sleeping? And when you haven’t returned my calls in weeks?” you reclaim but he stays silent, still going through some of the stuff placed at your desk. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Whatever, I need to pee, do not touch anything, you understand me?”

 “Yes, yes. Understood, Pet. I’ll be right here”.

You get up from your bed and walk barefoot towards the restroom. When you’re sit in the toilet, your mind begins wondering what truly brings the King of Hell to your room. Perhaps he’s aware that you miss him. Perhaps he misses you too. Or maybe it’s a dream. Maybe he is telling the truth and was just bored of all the meetings.

 You get back to your room to find Crowley laying across your bed.

 “Everything alright, Pet? Was beginning to wonder what took you so long” he tells you. Deep, dark stare into your eyes.

 “Yeah” you say, approaching the edge of the bed, staring back at him “I do everything slower at this time. Now, scoot over”.

 He slides a few inches to the side of the bed, letting you lay down next to him. You turn a few degrees facing him, while Crowley keeps looking at the ceiling, but paying attention to every and each one of your moves, that is until you place your arm across his chest and your hand begins mindlessly caressing the thin fabric from his suite shirt, while you breathe in his scent, the sulphur, the ash, the expensive scotch and fresh cologne.

“(Y/N)?” he begins carefully, voice low “What are you doing?“

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Yes, beg your pardon, why are you doing it?” Crowley asks but cautiously places an arm around you and starts stroking your hair.

“I... I’ve missed you” you confess as you bury your face in his shoulder “Does... does this bother you?”

Your question puts a soft smile in his mouth while he turns to look at your half-hidden face. 

“Not in the slightest, kitten” his declaration is greeted with a relieved and dreamy sigh from you “I’ve missed you too, you know?”

 “You have?” you ask incredulously “I thought you didn’t care...”

 “Of course I care. But here I thought you were the one who didn’t care...” that’s when your engines start rotating and it hits you.

 “Did you speak to Castiel?” you interrogate him, fully facing him now.

 “Castiel? No. I spoke to Dean though” he says guessing what happened. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have let Dean figure out what you were so upset about, Cas must’ve told him “He wanted some intel on someone, don’t know, don’t care, and it slipped the fact that you weren’t feeling so well”.

“What else did he say?” you ask him, going back to your task of running your fingers across his chest. In this moment, you couldn’t care less how he found out, he’s here, with you.

He inhales deeply.

“That you had nothing to do with the idea of lying to me...” he feels your body tense underneath him “Which, by the way, I figured a couple of hours after our little discussion”.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” anger beginning to creep on you, body still stiff.

“Because I thought you didn’t care that much” he admits “I thought it was for the best. To be honest, I was unsure about what to even tell you after the tantrum I threw that day”.

He places a hand under your chin for you to look him in the eyes.

 “I am sorry, (Y/N)” the King of Hell apologizes and you relax, hugging him a bit tighter.

 “I love you” he’s taken aback by your declaration but after a few seconds he smiles gently.

 “I love you too, Pet” with this sentence he brings your chin up and lowers his lips sweetly onto yours. He tastes like honey, citrus and scotch, and all you ever thought he’d taste like.

 The kiss is so tender and so slow that you’re able to wander your hand towards his hair and then his cheek. 

When the two of you break the kiss, you spend an exaggerated amount of time looking at each other, assimilating the reciprocated love. After a while you start talking about everything and nothing, just like old times, cuddling until you fall asleep, and Crowley, the King of Hell, has the honor to be the one to hold you in his arms.

MASTERLIST