#whether i actually want or need the answers... remains to be seen

[percyjacksonfan3]

Honest question, what the fuck is going on with Buttons this season??

[molsno]

am I insane? why do people keep talking about how evil it is to put "men dni" on a blog? I've literally never seen that anywhere but the nsfw blogs of lesbians. like yeah no shit, lesbians don't want men gawking at their nudes and trying to flirt when they're expressing their sexualities. I'll be the first to say that tme lesbians are often very transmisogynistic and push trans women out of their communities but unless they're outright twerfs "men dni" is not directly targeted at trans women. it feels like a lot of people have genuinely forgotten that men regularly disrespect women's sexual boundaries, including those of lesbians who make it clear they're not interested in men whatsoever.

it's especially bizarre to me because there actually are ways to tell if any given tme lesbian is transmisogynistic or not on their nsfw blog, you just need to develop a critical eye for transmisogyny so you can identify its more subtle expressions. like, does every sexual fantasy they write almost exclusively involve people with vaginas? do they only use the word "strap" when talking about penetration? do they only reblog thirst traps from people who were afab? are they vocal about including trans people in the lesbian community but only ever seem to apply their support to transmascs? do they remain silent about transmisogyny or even push back against the theory? do they have no outspoken transfeminists that they regularly interact with in their mutual circles? do all of their sexual fantasies involving transfems presume that we are tops and doms by default? do their descriptions of our bodies not only assume that we will always have a penis, but also center almost entirely on that penis? do they reblog callout posts, especially ones about transfems? the more you answered "yes" to these questions, the more likely it is that tme lesbian is transmisogynistic!

I understand feeling insecure or suspicious when you see "men dni" on a lesbian's blog but you cannot identify transmisogyny solely by its most extreme and violent expressions, because the reality is that it's so ingrained and pervasive that it often isn't that simple. you need to develop a critical understanding of transmisogyny rooted in transfeminist theory in order to accurately assess whether someone is transmisogynistic or not. all of the fearmongering about twerfs isn't actually doing anything to combat transmisogyny and keep transfems safe.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cariño [Part 7]

Jake Lockley x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Series Masterlist

Summary: The story comes to an end.

A/N: I know, it's been centuries, chapter 6 was posted in June 2023 (the shame), but here is the ending. Finally. Honestly, I'm not very happy with this story as a whole, but now it's done.

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (both receiving), reader can't speak Spanish, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3239

You had gone to Jake’s room early the next morning and knocked. No answer. 

You’d tried calling his phone, the one that worked yesterday. His number was out of service.

After speaking to the front desk, you found out he had checked out the night before, barely two hours after you had last seen him. 

A little after 8am you received the rest of the money into your bank account, payment for the job. 

It was fine. Really. 

He is an adult. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. 

But it hurt. A lot. 

You pushed the feelings down deep until you could almost walk on them. There was no need to dwell on this, dwell on him. But your thoughts kept migrating back, like a compass needle swinging north no matter how hard you shook it. 

You got ready and boarded your flight, not home, but to another job. Procuring and authenticating a Ruben, the honest, legal work you had pushed back a little so that you could get Jake his ankh. 

It was simple enough, practically a done deal and you were home and paid within two days. 

You heard through one of your contacts that the day after his party Edward Malay’s mansion had caught fire. He had seemingly died in the blaze. 

All you could think of was the look he had given you when Jack’s hand was on your waist. 

You let the rest of the following week slide by without any work, your heart just wasn’t in it. But by the Wednesday Detective Eric Peterson, the officer who worked for the police art and antiques unit, had called you asking for your help and promising you weren’t going to get hit in the face again this time. 

You took the job and got on with your life. There wasn’t much else to do. 

.

It was evening on a Friday night, and after trying to stop yourself from nodding off in front of the television you finally admitted defeat. Switched it off and got up to go to bed. 

There was a knock at the door. Ordinary and repetitive. 

You frowned. Waited a moment before moving closer to the door, keeping your footsteps light. 

Ever so carefully you checked the peephole and saw…

Jake. 

It was like a pin had been pushed through your chest, a sharp and small and perfect pain. 

Jake.

He hadn’t knocked like he usually did, forgone that familiar, distinctive sound.

You swallowed and opened the door. There was a split second when his gaze fell on you, the tiniest moment where he seemed to disappear and be replaced by someone else.

“Jak-”

 He surged forward before you had even fully opened the door, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips meeting yours. 

The force of his actions made you step back as he stepped forward, moving with you so that the kiss remained unbroken. 

You froze, surprised and questioning whether you had actually fallen asleep on the settee and this was all about to become some half remembered dream. 

He pulled back, crestfallen, mistaking your shock for rejection. 

“I’m-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

You moved forward, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling his mouth back to yours.

He let out the sweetest little moan as he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He nudged the front door shut with his foot before he walked you backwards and further into the room. 

For a moment he pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still on your face. “Cariño,” he stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, seemingly searching your eyes for something and kissing you again deeply when he found it. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair that wasn’t covered by his cap at the nape. 

Slowly he continued to urge you back until your legs nudged against the armrest of the settee. You let out a small moan as his tongue danced over yours and pushed you back into the sofa, his right hand coming around to press flat on your back and keep your descent slow and controlled. 

You pulled off his hat and pushed his coat from his shoulders, urging it down his arms as he shimmied it the rest of the way down and climbed on top of you. 

He slid his right hand down your side, your outer thigh, before hooking his fingers under the back of your knee and pulling your leg over his hip. He pressed in close, lightly grinding against you for a second until you pressed at his lower back with your calf and pushed him fully down. 

The fiction sparked pleasure along your veins, burning into your skin as you clawed at his shirt trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter between kisses. “I shouldn’t have just taken off.”

You kiss him back fiercely, “You don’t owe me anything-”

“I do cariño, I do.” He kisses down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin until you yelp. You can feel his smile as he presses his lips to your skin to ease the burn. 

“Jake,” You pull him back slightly, tugging lightly at his hair so that you can see his face. You’re not sure why you’re doing this, why you need to have this conversation now of all times. But emotion twists in your gut and won’t let you let this slide. 

His eyebrows pinch together slightly as he moves back, his eyes soft and hesitant. Expecting more rejection. 

You can’t help but stroke his cheek, the beginnings of stubble brush along your fingertips. “Jake,” you repeat and he closes his eyes briefly at the softness in your voice. “You don’t owe me anything, you can do-”

“I owe you an explanation.” He stares at you so sincerely it’s like his gaze is piercing into your soul. “I owe you-”

“Ja-”

“I wanted to kiss you again… back at the hotel. I wanted to…” He moves a fraction closer, his right hand sliding down to your waist as he presses his hips more fully against yours and rocking ever so slightly. 

You bite back the little gasp that wants to escape your lips. 

“I wanted to…” he swallows, his line of sight fixated on your lips as his tongue runs along his own, “make love to you.”

Your heart beats so rapidly that it echoes in your neck. 

“But instead I,” he shakes his head, crunching up his face as he internally chastises himself. “I fucked up, I-”

You silence him with your mouth on his, unable to hold yourself back any longer. 

He moans wantonly against your lips, eagerly accepting your tongue when you lick into his mouth. His hands are cool from the outside air, but it’s a balm to your feverish skin as he slides the tip of his fingers under your top and skims along your hips. 

Jake rocks against you feverishly, groaning happily when you wrap your legs around his waist fully. His erection pressed against you, the zipper of his jeans brushing perfectly along your core. The sensation spikes along your nerves and makes you squeeze his arms in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. 

He mouths at your neck, sucking and licking, paying particular attention to every sigh and hitch of your breath. 

“I have… so much,” he swallows, his voice muffled by your skin. Not able to pull himself away for even a second to speak clearly. “I need to tell you,” he pauses, biting his lip. “There are things that you should kno-”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him again, soft and sweet even though his lips are hot and wet. “Later.”

“Cari-”

“I mean this in the nicest way Lockley, but if you don’t sit back,” you move as you speak, unhooking your legs from his waist and urging him into a sitting position on the sofa, “and let me do what I want, then I’m never going to forgive you.” 

He keeps his hands on you as you gently manhandle him. A soft expression all over his face, as if his heart had cracked under the strain of carrying his emotions for far too long. And now the joy in his chest had no choice but to seep into his skin. 

“What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. And, in that moment you’re sure he would fall on a sword if you uttered the words. 

You shift back, off the sofa and onto your knees between his legs, your hands on either side of his thighs to push them a little wider. 

The heavy bulge of his erection strains against the denim, practically seconds away from popping the neatly stitched seams. His cock twitches under your gaze and Jake lets out a soft groan as you squeeze his thighs, scrapping your nails along his inseam. 

“I want you to…” You slide your palms higher until your eager fingers can reach his belt. You flick open the buckle, pulling the leather free before you undo his trouser button and start to pull down his fly.

“You don't have to.” He whispers. His eyes glued to your face, his hands balled up by his sides and pressing into the sofa, barely resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and pull you close so he could rut against the heat of your mouth.

“I want to.” You hold his gaze, slowly tugging the zipper down. 

Jake breathes hard, the air catching in his throat as his cock throbs. It's painful how much he aches, straining against the tough, unyielding fabric. 

He gasps when your fingers touch the skin just about his waistband and eagerly raises his hips to help you pull his clothing down to his ankles. His cock bobs free with a dull slap against his stomach and when you finally take him gently in your hand and kiss the very tip, he nearly comes on the spot. 

You press the palm of your free hand firmly against his inner thigh, a gentle reminder to keep him vaguely still and his legs parted. His muscles tense and twitch, flexing under your fingers.

His voice is weak when he mutters your name, soft and strained. You flick your tongue over his head, swirling twice before pulling back a fraction and look up at him. 

The warm artificial light makes his skin glow, the shadows on the sofa perfectly outlining his form, like a work of art you’d been tasked to assess. 

“Please,” his breathing is controlled even as his chest rises and falls. 

You wait until he starts to continue, to finish his thought, it’s only fair really due to the amount of times he’s teased you in the past with trivial things, before you take the tip into your mouth. 

Jake swears under his breath, his eyes screwing up as he fights the urge to buck and you bob your head slowly before you sink deeper. 

“Fuck,” He hisses, his eyes glazed. 

You hum softly as you suck and lick, relaxing your jaw as best you can to take as much of him as possible. His little pants and gasps for air make you lightheaded, your blood singing as he twitches on your tongue. 

You slide your hand from his thigh, up his leg to lightly roll his heavy balls in your palm. 

“Shit, cariño, I…” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching as he flinches forward. Pleasure sparking up his spine and twisting along his nerves. His orgasm so close it’s almost blinding. 

He wants to press close, to let you play him to your own heart's desire and come down your pretty throat with a scream. 

But he won’t. Yet. 

Jake finds the strength to take hold of your shoulders, “Stop, please.”

You do instantly and he sighs, eagerly leaning forward and kissing you fiercely. Licking into your mouth and groaning when you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He gently guides you into his lap as he hurriedly helps you pull off your clothes and the rest of his. 

“So pretty,” he groans as he mouths at your breasts, suckling lightly as he slides his left hand down your side and presses at your core. 

You shiver involuntarily under his touch, swallowing down a moan as he softly circles your clit with his calloused fingers. You squeeze his shoulders, your hips bucking automatically at the slow drag. 

He hums low in his throat, watching you with dark eyes. Languidly he runs his middle and forefinger over your folds, barely there pressure. “Can I?” He mutters as he rubs at your clit again, hardly even taking the edge of the ache. 

You nod rapidly, “Jake, please, I want you to-” You moan loudly as he presses inside. 

He swears at the wetness that greets him, quickly curling his fingers and stroking as he presses against your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves, keeping time with the rocking of your hips. 

“That’s in cariño,” he whispers, his voice thick, “take everything you want.” 

You almost don’t recognise the whine that leaves your lips as your own. Pleasure twists and pulses in your stomach, claws at your skin as your thighs burn and shake. 

He litters your chest with wet, desperate kisses, his stubble scraping deliciously over your skin. Somehow he manages to swallow a groan as you tense, his cock twitches, smearing salvia and precome against his stomach. 

“Jake,” you gasp, the weight in your stomach dropping as he strokes and pulls the pleasure from your bones. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whines, his voice nearly as desperate as your own. “Please, please,” his throat is dry as he mindlessly begs, transfixed on the look and feel of you. 

You come all at once, your orgasm piercing through your muscles and running like a current through your nerves. Jake guides you through it, holding you close and muttering sweet words and you shake and shatter in his arms. 

He slowly pulls out of you as you weaken, kissing your temple and stroking your back. You press your face into his neck, breathing hard. Your skin is hot but his touch is soothing. 

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t tell you what cariño means,” he whispers, there’s a weight in his chest, a tightness he needs to shift that’s fracturing. “It-”

“I know what it means,” you smile and pull back so that you can look at his face. “I just kept asking to see when you would tell me.” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re cruel to me cariño.” He teases, his eyes bright. “Too cruel.” 

You grin before you kiss him deeply, wet and warm as your tongue slides over his. He shivers delightfully as you just scrape your nails over his scalp, lost in your touch. 

His cock presses hot and heavy between your bodies, desperate for any kind of friction and when you angle your hips away from his slightly Jake just thinks you mean to tease him all the more. 

He certainly doesn’t expect you to raise up on your knees while you kiss him feverishly, nor did he predict how you guide him to your centre and just sink down. 

He moans, his forehead pinched together in ecstasy as you envelop him, so soft and warm and he nearly chokes, stammering out swears and please as you squeeze.

“Cariño,” his hands fly to your hips, tensing and desperate as you finally take all of him. 

You rock slowly, moving in a long figure of eight as your body adjusts to his size. The thickness stretching you wonderfully. 

Jake gasps, his fingers digging in as he holds on for dear life. Bliss buzzes along his skin, settles at the base of his spine with a dizzying speed. “I’m,” he swallows, his breath hitches as you move a fraction faster. His cock pulses as it rubs within you, pleasure building and building and building. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

You don’t let up your movements as you lean forward, ghosting your lips over his. “Please,” you dart out your tongue, running lightly over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”  

Jake groans loudly, gasping for air as he pulls you as close as physically possible. His hips thrust up as he comes hard, the sensation whiting out his vision as he calls out your name in prayer. 

‘Thank yous’ fall his hushed whispers from his mouth as he shakes and recovers, his heart racing in his chest. You can’t help but watch him, transfixed in how his face pinches and glows in pleasure.

You’re smiling at him when he opens his eyes, and you brush some of his loose curls from in front of his face as he gazes at you. 

“You okay?” You giggle, joy rising up in your chest at the love sick look he gives you. 

“More than,” he kisses you softly, his strong arms hugging you close. “More than more than.” 

Without warning he twists, moving you onto your back flat against the sofa while staying deep inside of you. You let out a little yelp of surprise that turns into more laughter. 

“I love that sound,” Jake kisses your nose, grinning. “I think it is my second favourite.”

“Second favourite?” 

He nods, “This is the first.” He moves quickly, pulling his softening cock from your pussy only to quickly dip down, kissing your stomach once before he presses the flat of his tongue in one long, slow lick through your folds. He groans as your combined fluids fill his mouth, and your cry of pleasure sounds in his ears. 

He swirls his tongue over your click one way and then the other before he gently presses two fingers on either side of your entrance and stretches slightly, opening you wider. “Fuck, such a mess here.” He groans, biting his lip at how your muscles flutter under his hold before he gets back to the task at hand. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his warm tongue runs over you again, the tip just dipping inside as he flicks up, trying to gather as much of your combined release as possible before he swallows. 

You wriggle under the onslaught, your back arching off the cushions as he works on you, quickly hurtling you towards another orgasm. 

He groans as you writhe, using his hands to pull your legs over his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. He flicks his tongue, alternating between sucking and licking until you’re sobbing and soaking a wet patch into the sofa. 

His fingers knead your thighs and ass cheeks, coaxing you to buck and grind exactly how your desperate body is begging you to. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. One second you’re moaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of his mouth, the next you're practically paralysed as pleasure washes over your mind, body and soul. 

Jake groans as you come, not letting up on his onslaught until you're panting heavily and limp. As he sits up you can feel his cock against the back of your thigh, hard and ready once more. 

He grins devilishly, “Can I fuck you again cariño?” 

Thank you for reading!

 want to be tagged? •  if you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 13

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Title: Attic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Arachnophobia, implied smut at the very end (but I did write with the intention of just kisses!), retching/vomiting/nausea mentioned, literally as scared as you could possibly imagine, crying, panicking, comfort, friends to lovers (ig?)

Summary: You haven't cleared out your attic in a long time and rope in Bucky to help you; not expecting to be scared out of your wits.

Word count: 2k

A/N: This is one of 3 fics I had for this prompt. They will get linked here and on the Masterlist once they've been edited. Can you tell I'm arachnophobic? I'm so scared of spiders it's untrue (and I may have or may not have experienced the retching from fear hahaha) - Love, Grem x

Attic | Cellar | Hidden Room

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Your attic had not been cleared out in years. The accumulation of stuff and things was now too much and you knew you needed to sort through memories, keepsakes and – let’s be real – shit you no longer needed. So, you enlisted the help of your roughest, toughest, friend to help you along; Bucky Barnes.

Although he usually preferred holding onto memorabilia, he knew how to keep you on task, unlike Steve who would simply melt at your puppy dog eyes. No. You needed Bucky to help you be strong.

And you needed him to stand guard to protect you from anything that might move in the attic.

You weren’t necessarily squeamish, but one big reason you had opted to ignore the growing mass of stuff-and-things was spiders. Attics , especially old ones like yours, held untold horrors of gigantic eight-legged fiends that 100000% would attack you if given the chance.

Maybe poison you.

And eat you.

Maybe.

Regardless of whether the fear was justified or not, the fear remained and Bucky was the only one you felt would adequately protect you from such a creature. Even if you had never seen said fiends in your house thus far.

You made Bucky go into the attic first. There were two reasons for this. The first was if there were any spiders lying in wait as the attic door popped open, they would get him first and you could run. The second was so that you could subtly appreciate his strong build from the other end of the landing.

“Doll, why are you standing so far away?” Bucky had queried after opening the hatch and turning on the attic light. He was turning to look at you with a raised brow, utterly confused as you tentatively stepped closer to the ladder.

“Just in case you fell,” you lie, your nerves shot. “Wouldn’t want to get crushed.”

Bucky chuckles. “So you’d not cushion my fall? That’s nice to know.”

He crawls up the ladder and you follow closely behind, racing up the steps quickly before you chicken out. You and Bucky pull boxes and make chit chat about memories linked to your boxes and share stories about growing up. Soon, you’ve relaxed enough to actually begin enjoying the time you’re spending with Bucky.

“Thanks for helping me,” you say, smiling over at him as you open the next box.

“It’s no problem, doll.” Bucky smiles back, filling up another bag of stuff for charity. “But I don’t know why you couldn’t get up here yourself?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything about your irrational fear of spiders, but decide against it.

“Just wanted the company, is all.” It’s a half truth, you like having Bucky around. Well, a lot more than just like. But it’s a can of worms you aren’t willing to open with him yet.

Bucky seems satisfied with your answer and hums in response. A comfortable silence settles as you both work, sorting through your stuff-and-things, dust pluming and giving a stuffy air to the warm attic. Your eyes occasionally rake over Bucky and your thoughts begin to walk in circles. You were grateful for his friendship, his help and his kindness. You only wished you could pluck up enough courage to ask him out on a date – without the worry that it would jeopardise your friendship. You also didn’t want to embarrass yourself if you’d read too much into the spared glances and giggles you both shared.

You stuck your arm into the black bag before you, mindlessly repeating the same conversation with yourself when you felt something on your arm. You frown and try to peer into the bag. The sticker on the side read winter clothes so it must have been a finger of a glove or a-

It moved.

You freeze. No. You were imagining things. It was totally a glove. Your hand is balled into a tight fist in the bag, lost between layers of scarves and jumpers, but there is definitely something moving against your forearm.

Bucky looks over at you concerned. Super soldier hearing means he can not only hear the sound of your stuttered breathing ; he can also hear your heart racing so erratically that he thought you would pass out. Bucky watches as you stay still and you whisper his name so quietly he almost misses it.

“Yeah doll? You okay?”

You turn to look at him slowly and Bucky’s concern grows exponentially when he sees tears in your eyes. You shake your head, slowly. He takes a step towards you, making the floor board creak loudly. The vibration of the floorboard makes the thing against your arm wriggle further and you let out a hushed sob.

What had you said about not embarrassing yourself in front of Bucky?

Your lip quivers and tears spill from your eyes as you look at him, seeing his confused and concerned expression. Words die in your throat and you just nod and your arm. Bucky's blue eyes drift downwards following your arm into the black bag. He doesn’t see anything at first and was about to ask if this was some sort of prank. However, as bad luck would have it, very long, very hairy legs appear at your elbow.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters, staring wide eyed. You’re too busy having an existential crisis to care but if you weren’t you’d probably throw something at him.

“Please,” you choke out hoarsely refusing to look down at your arm. You felt nauseous. Maybe you’d pass out. Or throw up.... or both.

Bucky looked at you and then back down to your arm where four pairs of eyes blinked up at him.

“I’ll need a cup.”

“Fuck you and your cup!” You hiss angrily. “You have a metal arm. Just pick him up and throw him out.”

Bucky looks at you dumbfounded, as if you’ve suggested something utterly disgusting, then realisation dawns and he flexes his metal hand. “Oh, yeah.”

The spider moves a little higher, long fuzzy legs tickling the crease in your elbow as it feels its way up your arm slowly. It’s enough to make you heave. If being freaked out by a spider wouldn’t embarrass you in front of Bucky, vomiting from fear would. Your retching seems to snap Bucky out of his stupor of forgetting he does in fact, have a metal arm to deal with the spider. Bucky watches as your shoulder violently move as you retch again, harder this time, and listens to your staggered breathing as you attempt to stay in control.

He reaches over with his metal palm up, placing it gently against your bicep. The vibranium was luke-warm against your flushed skin. You were already breaking a sweat from anxiety mixed with the tepid dry heat of the attic and wished for once his arm was cool to bring some relief.

“Just stay still, doll.” Bucky instructs softly, waiting for the perfect moment as the spider makes its way into Bucky’s palm. You bite back a venomous quip, clamping your mouth shut instead. Once the spider is nestled in his palm, Bucky reels back and throws it across the attic. The spider lands in the cushioned yellow foam between the floorboards, re-orienting itself briefly, before scuttling awkwardly into a crevice.

Bucky would have turned back to you to comfort you but there was an empty space where you once stood. Upon feeling the spider and Bucky’s hand leave your arm, you had practically thrown yourself from the attic. You didn’t even know if you took the ladder or jumped. You were too pre-occupied crying on your bed, trying desperately to calm down.

Bucky appears at your bedroom door with a gentle knock and a soft smile as your wiping your eyes, breathing finally evening out enough with only a few hiccups of sobs.

“Sorry,” you say thickly, sniffing pitifully. “And thanks for getting rid of it.”

Bucky shrugs and comes closer to you, sitting next to you on the bed. “He was pretty damn big, gave me a fright too.”

The thought of the spider scaring Bucky too makes you smile over at him. You sniff again and realise you must look crazy; crying and hyperventilating over a spider touching you. You shiver at the thought and try to quell a wave of nausea. You rub the arm the spider was on subconsciously, your mind tricking you into thinking that something is on you again.

Bucky seems to take notice because he places his flesh hand over yours to stop you rubbing your arm too hard. You look over at him again and notice his eyes are looking into yours with a knowing kindness that makes your heart stutter.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He says firmly and then, quieter, he asks, “Is that why you wanted me here?”

You nod. “I... I don’t do well with spiders.”

“I can see that,” Bucky grins and you shoot him a glare. But it’s half hearted and you falter into a chuckle. You rub at your eyes again, removing the last of the tears.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t pass out if I saw one. And I like your company so... two birds.” You shrug sheepishly and Bucky nudges your shoulder with his playfully.

“Well, congrats doll. You didn’t pass out. And...” He trails for a moment, deciding on what to say. “I like your company too.”

You feel your cheeks go a little pink but say nothing. You take a deep breath and exhale a long  exhaustive, lung-emptying breath, body finally letting go of the adrenaline. However, it all kicks up again when you feel Bucky inch closer to wrap his arm around you in an incredibly awkward, yet incredibly comforting side hug. He pulls you close and you're squished against his shoulder as he rests his chin on your head. Your face heats and you don’t know where to put your newly sweaty palms other than onto your jeans. Finally, you breathe and it’s like a switch flips. You relax entirely in Bucky’s embrace and lean your head into his shoulder, mumbling thanks.

You head vibrates as Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. “No worries doll. But maybe we cut the sorting short for today, huh? You made good progress.”

You beam proudly, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah. I think so. We were only up there for about two hours."

You hum thoughtfully, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. "So, uh, do you want to watch a movie or something? I’d feel bad that you came all the way here to help.”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

You don’t really know how long you sit together, breathing in the smell of him, slotting under him as if you were always meant to. It isn’t  until you sigh as your eyes flutter closed that you feel Bucky’s head move. His nose brushes the your crown and he inhales the scent of your shampoo and ever so gently presses his lips against your hair.  You shift, unsure of how to react, and that makes Bucky stiffen with the realisation he’d just kissed your head on autopilot. Your cheeks flush – as do his. Yet you both remain silent for a few more moments.

“Bucky?” you call out quietly.

“Yeah, doll?”

Another pause.

“Do that again.”

He hesitates but complies.

And continues to comply every time you command it, eventually kissing all the way down to your cheeks, hovering at your lips. With one last command, he meets your eyes briefly before they flutter closed and your lips meet.

Neither of you watch the movie until, much, much later and even then you’re both too wrapped up in one another to care. That day was the first of many good days to come.

Who'd have thought you would be thankful to a spider for bringing you and Bucky together?

[windvexer]

Hello!

I've seen you talk a few times about the dangers of over-warding, which I can certainly see the sense in; at the same time, wards can also certainly be useful things. I'd like to ask you: in your opinion, what is the most sensible amount of wards to have? Does it make sense to ward (oneself, one's home, whatever) at all if you don't have a reason to expect attacks or infringements?

Good morning!

We're at least in reference to this post.

The silly answer is, but I promise to explain it so that it's useful, the most sensible amount of wards to have is however many cover your needs.

I think the topic of warding is often framed in relation to attacks and retaliation, which it certainly relates to. But I think that also gives it a bit of a crusty patina, if you will: "I don't have main character syndrome; I'm not one of those witches who's so paranoid that everyone is going to attack them, and I don't mess around with spirits, so warding isn't for people like me."

Which is all well and good, but the idea of warding in and of itself is that it's just a barrier that stops things from coming through.

Wards can hypothetically block out anything: malifica and spirits, sure, but also unwanted guests, solicitors, debts, poverty, stress, illness, spam phone calls, and spiders.

"Attacks" may not be common, but tangles of unhelpful energy, the Evil Eye, and blustery storms of ill-effect aren't all that rare. Just because someone didn't aim at you and pull the trigger doesn't mean that your life will remain void of deleterious energies.

Spirits living their lives will infringe on you, not because you're the main character or because they're malicious, but because the two of you live in the same reality and sometimes your lives intersect in unwanted ways.

And you can accidentally infringe, and then spirits can be offended and decided to make it your problem.

So in a certain sense, not having wards because you don't expect attacks or infringements is like not having house rules because you don't expect your room mates to ever do anything upsetting:

On the one hand, it's perfectly fine to wait until something is happening before you deal with it.

On the other hand, some people prefer to say, "welcome to the house! Please don't invite your friends to stay the night without checking with us first."

Another confounding factor is whether or not you tend to draw spirits to you, as some people do; and whether or not you live in an area with very high spiritual activity. If you live in a paranormal activity desert, baseline wards might not be useful at all, whereas someone who has sensitive psychic perception and lives in an old converted mortuary might need lots of baseline protection just to feel comfortable.

But perhaps the most important deciding factor is whether or not you want to deal with it.

Early on in my education I heard a witch of great experience say, "the more experienced you get, the less wards you need. You get to a point where you can just deal with things as they arise instead of needing to stay walled in all the time."

Which is technically true. However they may manifest on the astral plane, the functional effect of a ward is like a bug screen: it's likely to stop or mitigate whatever it's meant to hold out.

The real question then becomes, what things would you prefer to never deal with, and what things are you comfortable dealing with as they arise?

Wards should be for that - the things that you would just like to not ever have to deal with, even if you don't particularly expect them to darken your doorstep.

Wards can be useful because they are proactive and preventative. A ward to stop bad energies and stress from your workplace following you home can help reduce the need for more regular spiritual hygiene. A ward against uninvited spirits can help stop you from getting distracted from the magical work you actually want to be doing.

So a ward is like a wall. Does it make sense to build a wall around your farm, even if you never expect a raid from the neighbors?

I don't expect raids from my neighbors. I still build walls.

[tswaney17]

Some Perspective

The drama surrounding Elain Week is utterly ridiculous, and I cannot believe I'm having to write this, but for some unknown reason, people just can't seem to grasp the purpose of the "no abusers" rule set by the event team. So, let me break this down for you.

First off, this is not a shipping event. Elain Week is about (surprise!) Elain Archeron. It is a week designed to celebrate the love of her character. There is one prompt that is specifically designated for relationships. However, that can include her relationships with her sisters, her friends, and yes, potential love interests. The week is not supposed to be focused on those around her. It is supposed to be about HER.

Now let's address the whole ship thing. This rule has been in place for several years now. It is not new. So, why is it now such a big deal? After several years of having this rule in place, why is it only now becoming a big issue? Does it really bother you, or are you just looking for a fight?

But why was the rule put in place to begin with? Elain is one of the most hated characters (if not the most) in the ACOTAR fandom (for reasons I cannot even fathom). Is it because she's a traditionally soft, feminine character or because the fictional male you like actually has shown interest in her? Either way, Elain is often shipped with CANON DOMESTIC VIOLENCE ABUSERS such as Tamlin or Beron (or Flynn's DV father from Crescent City - yes, I have seen this) to make her "interesting" or to "make him better" (incase you have forgotten: women are not a rehabilitation center for broken men). Or, she's shipped with them to dehumanize her, to demean her, or even degrade her. Again, let me reiterate that this week is about positively celebrating Elain's character. So, why would the event hosts want to share art or fics or creative content that does the exact opposite? Why should those that truly love Elain be forced to watch you rip her apart during HER appreciation week? How is that fair?

Is it possible that there are some people who truly ship Elain with DV abusers with good intentions? Yes, absolutely. But is it fair to ask the event hosts to have to search through every single post and make a determination whether it's positively or negatively reflecting Elain's character? No.

If they decided to do that, and made a decision to not share some content that was determined to not attribute positively to Elain's character, would you still be throwing a fit? - Do I need to actually answer this one because we know what it would be.

So, they made a choice to set a boundary to 1) protect their DV victims who have voiced concerns in the past and 2) to ensure that this appreciation week for Elain Archeron actually stays positive. They are not saying you can't ship who you want. They have not said you cannot create whatever content you want for this event. They are only choosing to ensure that the pages dedicated to Elain remain clean of Elain hate and slander.

Ship who you want, have appreciation weeks for whatever you decide, it literally doesn't matter. But don't come at the event hosts for striving to keep things positive for a character that nine times out of ten, is negatively spoken about. If you don't like it, you are more than welcome to host your own.

Which brings me back to my earlier question... Those that are up in arms about this rule and who are bullying the event hosts (don't deny that you are, I've seen some of things being said. I've scrolled through the tags. You are indeed, bullying and harassing the hosts.), tell me - were you actually going to participate in Elain Week or are you, as I mentioned before, just looking to pick a fight?

[drama--universe]

Confessions & relationships

Requested by anonymous: Hello! Can I please request boyfriend headcanons for Vincenzo, Jang Han Seok and Jang Han Seo and how they'll confess to their crush?

Pairings: Vincenzo boys x reader

Warnings: Jang Han-Seok, emotional abuse, toxic relationship

Vincenzo Cassano:

I don't think he would hide his crush to begin with

Asking you out:

so there are two options to his approach

one, you know

thus, not much to confess and it is very simple

he asks you out randomly, no real timing there

and does not wait for an answer, he just leaves and assumes it is a yes

second option, you're oblivious

he probably asked you out before and have you dismiss it as a friendly hang-out

thus he goes farther

probably some kind of big approach, maybe a party or at least a fancy dinner

asking you out would remain private though

As your boyfriend:

he's a sweet boyfriend and very romantic

don't be surprised at when you get a romantic outing or dinner every few weeks

he will spoil you

buys you whatever you look at for more than a second

he isn't home much when working, but makes sure to eat once a day with you

whether that be morning, afternoon or evening

if he can't, he will make it up whatever way he can

even if you don't mind it

you know about his actual job

but he makes sure to not ever come home hurt or bloodied up

because he knows it will worry you

if he does come home injured, he'll tell immediately

will patiently sit as you treat him

when sleeping, he'll always have you wrapped in his arms

is not opposed to be being the little spoon though if you want

just needs to feel your skin against his

if not, he can't sleep

overall a very good boyfriend

Jang Han-Seok:

Asking you out:

he's always very sweet to you

at your beck and call 24/7, like a small puppy at his owner

so very cute, always smiling

buys you your favorite drinks and snacks, leaving them for you to find

sometimes there is a cute gift along with those snacks

flowers are also not abnormal for you to find, small bouquets with varying flowers or just a single flower on your desk

so his confession will be something along those lines

it would be a public confession, but not too grand

he doesn't want to overwhelm you or force you to say yes

a bouquet in his hands and a bear that held a heart

will get on his knees if he deems necessary, but you're quick to pull him up if he even dares to try

everyone kind of freezes and waits for your answer

but it's a yes nonetheless

he explodes into giggles and hugs you

is happy for the rest of the week

As a boyfriend:

now, here's the thing

he starts as the sweetest boyfriend

but all of that changes after being together for about a month

it starts with little things

he's a bit more calm than before, more mature in a way

you don't mind that too much

it doesn't really change your dynamic

what you do mind is his possessiveness

it was mild in the start, pointed at people that made advances on you

which is logical, everyone is a bit like that

then it starts to branch out

colleagues first, then your friends and even family at one point

it started with snarky comments pointed to them

he didn't really care if they heard or not

and then he started shielding you

guilting you into staying with him

whenever you bring it up, he denies it and says he knows what is best for you

it comes to the point that you barely go outside

whenever you start to doubt your relationship and are thinking of breaking it off, he would love bomb you

big gifts and a lot of affection to make sure that you wouldn't leave

is not above locking you up at home

once again says that he is protecting you

you know better, but you don't leave

because you've seen what he can do

and you know he won't be afraid to hurt you

not a good boyfriend, don't think I need to explain further on that

Jang Han-Seo:

Asking you out:

now the normal one

well, if you ignore the trauma's he clearly has

his affection is no secret

he gets all mushy around you, so even you know

one problem

he doesn't notice that you reciprocate those feelings

which is a miracle because it is so obvious

you don't hold back on the flirting, because you know he likes you

but he never responds to it

when he gives you gifts, you once literally told him that you'd rather have him take you out for dinner

the man just giggles to himself while turning red, then just walks off while saying 'good joke'

walking is being nice, it's more of a skipping

when he does invite you to dinner, you ask if it is a date

he responds that it is just a friendly hangout since you're his only friend

but then he does ask you out

kind of...

he's practicing his speech to you while you just stand in the doorway

because he left the office door open

and when he finishes his speech, clearly proud of himself, you answer him

with a yes of course!

he jumps up like a snow leopard when it's cub scares them

like this:

then he starts stuttering, trying to explain what happened

you basically shut him up by kissing him

he will shortcut

it will take at least 5 minutes for him to reboot

when he does, he is just bewildered

remains very giggly and cute

a bit like what he is like with Vincenzo, but a bit more

As a boyfriend:

is literally the sweetest

will send you texts throughout the whole day

a lot of selfies from various things through the day

has no clue what his gym selfies do to you

will always pick you up after work and bring you home

more often his then yours though

will constantly buy little trinkets that you remind him of you

you tend to do the same after awhile

some gifts get a bit weird, but it's a funny thing between you two

everyone know you're dating

because he will not shut up about you

ever

people are begging you to make him stop

it's impossible

because he wears his heart on his sleeve

he is a bit insecure sometime though

afraid that you'll leave him for someone better

because he still believes he's not worth

thanks to someone

it's very clear when he feels like that

he'll begin with pouting if it is due to someone specifically

if not that than he'll just be sad

staring into space without any sign of being alive

it's quite terrifying actually

best case it is only a few minutes

wort case he's gone for days

usually you just stay by his side and reassure him

never forcing him out of the mindset

he does go to therapy to your request

and with each day, he gets better

more confident about himself and your relationship

overall, I think he's the most realistic boyfriend of the three

[group-dynamic]

Abbott Season 4 Episodes 7 & 8 Analysis Because I'm Losing It

These past two episodes were masterpieces, and I could talk about them all day, because I was deeply affected by them, but I'll pick one thing:

I love how these past two episodes skewered toxic amatonormativity and promoted the benefits of non-traditional, non-restrictive families and holidays.

Like, yes, there's a hilarious sitcom premise, but Barb making a mission of inclusion by reworking their holiday pageant to be a winter pageant so her student who is Muslim won't be excluded or Janine and Gregory making space for Ava with them, while the show allows Ava to deliberately choose who is family to her. Jacob and his brother becoming family again outside their parents. Melissa choosing not to invite the firefighter to dinner because she is valuable as an individual, unattached woman whether her family sees it or not.

But what I think really drove this home for me was the scene in the kitchen and the parallel set up between Jacob and Melissa. They are two roommates from different generations who have both failed to fulfill the heteronormative, amatonormative ideals their families wanted from them: Jacob--presumably--due to his queerness and Melissa through her divorce. (Though this reading is also very friendly to queer!Melissa interpretations, too.)

The moment this struck me the most is Melissa in that kitchen upset and stressed and occasionally teary while holding it together (because that's who she is and that's how she does this) trying to convince Jacob that they need to keep the uncle dying a secret because she's been working so hard to pull off this dinner for weeks and she needs to impress her family who do nothing but insult and diminish her and her individual value.

Like, keeping up appearances is genuinely more important in that moment than the death of a family member. Even if he is a bigoted prick, Melissa knows they'll be mad she "ruined their holiday" more than the familial death itself, suggesting that the very idea of the family is a sham. A performance.

And Jacob remains obstinate because this is a really Big Deal and stressful and he always dislikes the holidays anyway so he can't understand why they won't just call 911 and get the big deal over with, because that guy is dead on his bed. But then Melissa says, "They're going to blame me" and Jacob is aghast, "What, how?" because of course that's incomprehensible, why would Melissa ever think someone would do something that mean and illogical? Especially to a great person like her? And she answers, "You've seen my family. They'll find a way." And then we hear the insults and petty you're not good enough commentary from the other room. And slowly it sinks in.

Because Caleb, Jacob's younger brother, who last episode revealed he completely understood how toxic their family was for Jacob and how proud he is that he made it out-- this goofy, himbo-esque tiktok personal trainer just stares at his brother, until finally Jacob gets it and looks over. Because they've lived this. And, of course, Jacob couldn't see it in the same way, because to some extent, Jacob's desperation to be liked and accepted has always suggested that he maybe still believes that he deserved to be the least favorite. (He couldn't even imagine his brother looking up to him, or having anything nice to say about him , or wanting to see him just because he values him. His "I lift people's spirits!" is a performance we've seen him carry out for four seasons. (Worthy of note is that Caleb's job is also a performance. He's a personal trainer, but not one with any actual training. He couldn't find a pulse. He just acts as a trainer on tiktok.)

Now, of course, the plot has to roll on, so Jacob continues to secretly object, but he takes part in Melissa's performance, now, despite his objections, because while he doesn't agree with the charade, he gets why she's doing it. (And maybe, in some way, seeing how a great and likable person like Melissa can be targeted and bullied by her family, is some proof that he might not actually be a bad and unlikable person after all. Maybe he's not the problem.)

And then when Barbara shows up to that kitchen and the first words out of her mouth are "How can I help?" Like I'm sobbing!! Her IMMEDIATE concern is Melissa. First and genuinely, and that's even before she hears her uncle "died" and then Barb is instantly ready to support her with whatever she needs and her first instinct is to hug her and when Melissa says she needs something else (the bread) she goes and does what Melissa says she needs because THAT IS FAMILY!! aahhh.

Anyway: while there's defeat in Melissa's face when her firefighter shows up and her family behaves exactly as expected (Ooooh, you're good because a man has made you good. It all makes sense.) It's tempered by Barb and her husband coming up and reassuring and complimenting her, acting CLEARLY as better family to her than blood or her current fling.

I don't know if I have a conclusion to this. I just want to shout out that the show also says that you don't NEED to go full speed into found family, either, to combat the loneliness caused by the nuclear family model. Sometimes you can also go on the party bus or to the strip club and that's valid, too, haha.

[zorosroronoas]

How do you think in ho and jun ho storyline will end? Many people believe in ho is not worthy of redemption

oh man, that's a great question & i honestly don't have a great answer. i don't have a lot of certainties other than i firmly believe inho will die. that to me is the most natural conclusion to his story, tho whether he goes down WITH the games or actively taking them down remains to be seen.

idk i think a redemption arc for inho could work pretty well, if he's being motivated by his love for his brother. how it would come to be tho, i'm not entirely sure. i do think that for inho to actually turn on the games, he's going to need something big to happen, since he's nowhere near that as of rn. i've seen ppl talking about junho dying & that being a motivator, but i also desperately want junho at least to live, so...

i've also said this before, but i have a hard time believing gihun, particularly where we left him off in s2, & junho can singlehandedly take down the games. it's simply far too big of an operation. it would make far more sense if it was done with the help of someone on the inside, aka inho, that knows how it works & its weaknesses.

all in all i think that the hwang bros are most definitely doomed & frankly that's part of the appeal. whatever happens will be extremely heartbreaking that's for sure, but i wouldn't have it any other way.

[thenighttimeparadise]

The fact for most people, having acrylic nails, wearing make up, doing your hair, doing skin care, wearing skirts/dresses, wearing heels, ect. is considered feminine and things women biologically want/need to do or should do because it's "feminine" is crazy to me.

Let's unpack this.

So... acrylic nails. Putting shit on your nails to make them longer/ more colourful. Why might this be seen as "feminine"? Females usually have longer, thinner fingers, which longer nail help make the appearance of, women usually biologically have longer nails like they have longer hair, and they're expected to care more about their appearance. Why don't these things actually explain this phenomenon? Long fingers could be considered attractive for both men and women, they are attractive for women mainly because they look dainty and bc subconsciously society want women to spend more time on their looks so when you see a women with longer, painted nails it looks right bc she spent time and money to be feminine and to look "right" (society wants women to suffer, whether you admit it or not, the idea of femininity is to hate yourself quietly, I can expand on that if you'd like). Also, while females have longer nails and hair biologically (on average and on a pretty small amount) men also biologically grow hair and nails. Like, men used to have shoulder length hair and women had hair to their waist. The fact men have shorter hair now is bc of the army. Fight me on this. If this was according to biology it would masculine to have hair to your shoulders or lower back and somewhat longer nails, but it's not. My point here isn't to say that it's untrue that female biologically have longer hair and nails, but that these standards can change according to socialization, and we did change them for men, so much so that we won't consider some biologically masculine stuff masculine. Bc it's mostly socialization. The idea that women are the prettier sex, even as an empowering thing, is simply incorrect, and I do want y'all to understand that if we wanted to decide males are the beautiful sex we could change that in our minds in like one generation.

The wearing heels/dresses/skirts is just pure bullshit, forgive me for the way I'm wording this but these are pieces of a fabric, and while one can argue dresses and skirts could feminine to accentuate the "female silhouette" as in making the body look more curvy, I want to remind you that you're very subjective and what you're attracted to and what you find beauty in is about 76% due to socialization. I promise you if you were born 100 years ago you'd have different opinions about what is and isn't attractive. Sure some stuff will remain, like being hygienic, having clear skin and straight teeth and not being overly obese or thin, since these things are just signs of being unhealthy (even though some people don't care about these things I just mean generally speaking in the way our body and brain processes things), so many other things you might think are attractive for you bc of biology, such as facial features, height, body type (you can be as fertile without having small waist as someone with tiny waist, it's about having breasts and body hair [signs of fertility and sexual maturity] And while both of those aren't sexual [while breasts are a sign of fertility that doesn't mean they're inherently sexual just like beards are a sign of sexual maturity but they aren't inherently sexual] Yk what that raises the question of what is inherently sexual and I have an answer, tell me/write an ask about it if you wanna know but ANYWAY beauty changes over the years so being an hourglass figure isn't necessarily the 'objectively' most attractive a women can look.

[bluemoondust]

Hello! May I req about reader attempting to piss off/surprise attack Dazai (BSD) so that he would kill them please? Just one character, and in scenarios would be fitting i think or it can be up to you. Thanks!

✧Attempting to Provoke Him✧ — Dazai Osamu

First time writing for Dazai, so hope this is good!

Warning(s): Talk of Suicide and Death (Thanatos Theory), Hints of Manipulation

Currently Playing: Two Breaths Walking (Reloaded) cover by Rachie

"Hey,

What are you living off of?

Who is it that drives you to go on?

Who is it that you think of?

Have you learned all of the words to say?"

It seems like you're under the influence of Thanatos. The desire of death; your untimely demise.

Something all too familiar with Dazai. However, his approach to the concept is different from yours. Well at least, in terms of how you'd like your end to be. His own methods have changed, but oh...some things just stay the same even after years have passed.

He thinks about how empty you must feel. What drove such a hole into that heart of yours in order to cause this need to have your short life ended. He'll find out that answer eventually; he always figures it out in the end. It's futile to even try to hide your true reasoning behind it. The kicker of it all being that you wish for Dazai to be the one to cut your life abruptly.

Something was wrong with this. No human being would want to commit a death that is by the hands of someone else. They'd rather do it by their own hand; to feel that sweet sense of control they never had in their lives. Why do you want someone to kill you? Well no matter, it is something he'll find out. He knows too well you won't give an answer. No person is ever honest when it comes to their darkest emotions.

Your attempts to annoy/surprise him, amuse Dazai greatly and he never takes them seriously...on the surface. He simply plays along and laughs like it's all a joke. Treats it like a game. "Oh! Nice try~ You'll have to be more stealthy than that!" Your actions are met with head pats or affectionately pinching your cheeks. You're adorable. Just like that silly little head of yours to even believe you can achieve what you want.

Those methods are in vain as he can clearly tell its you ever time you try to catch him off guard. You think just because these methods are a clear plead to be killed, they would actually give you what you want? Oh, you're naive. Dazai had already known your intentions. Everyone else could assume you are being silly, but he knows better. He's seen the glint in your eyes when you approach him with a new scheme. He's seen it before.

You're his darling after all. He knows you more than you know yourself. You want to know what does piss him off? That you want to leave this world on your own. Without him. Dazai internally scoffs at your attempts to ignite a strong reaction out of him, but they still amuse him as said before.

So let's get things straight, you are not going to receive what you desire, darling. Well, at least, not on your terms. One, you're not dying until Dazai decides it's time and two, it will be in the form of a double suicide. In order for that to be, you have to be on the same page as him. Don't worry though, Dazai has that all figured out. You'll eventually come around to the idea if you're initially against it. Wouldn't you rather see the experience of pure bliss on your beloved's face before you go? It's better than seeing resentment.

For now, you're obviously a danger to yourself, aren't you? It seems like you're at a point in your life where you simply have no control over it. The reins are no where to be found; hands feebly trying to grasp them. Someone else has to grab them for you. Whether you want it or not, that hole in your heart will be filled...with him. Dazai will make you see him as your reason to live. The absolute control over your life.

He smiles at the thought of it. What a lovely thing to think of. It will not remain just a thought though, as he plans to make that a reality. He will commend you, despite how foolish your efforts are, you certainly gave Dazai something interesting to work with. Things were going to be simple, but now a bump in the road is present. Even if it is a minor one. You're making things easier, but the good kind.

Challenging your perspective will be fun. Making you question what you initially believed will be a joy. Your original reason for the desire of death will change and Dazai will look forward to that. He looks forward to seeing you look at him like he's your lifeline.

"From today you’ll be the air I breathe

your breath is everything in me

The "I love you's" we tried to say

That we screwed up, but not today"

[ms-scarletwings]

Aberrant Fish

Updated February 2025

The first hint many an angler will get of the dark, insidious secrets these waters hold,

and yet, they are the first thing to be accepted as only another flavor of mundane.

The game text calls them grotesque. The fishmonger calls them corrupted. You get to call them a bonus. Rather than fear and revile them, tradesmen will pay a shiny extra penny to add them into their stock. They are gestured to and spoken of, but never truly elaborated on by the townsfolk. They have probably been here long before most of them, and so will be here long after they are gone. They were certainly here before you. Maybe you don’t need their answers, and yet if you are like me, you still witlessly question and keep dredging for more.

Like many things pulled from those cursed depths, they whisper flecks of madness from an impossible voice. What messages do they carry, and what forces do they play vessel to? Are they the lingering embers from a long-extinguished calamity, or are they harbingers of the next one to come?

I believe we have already seen signs of fire with our own eyes- impossible, great beasts that prowl the four (now five) coasts, the dying cult, gibbering fog…. That damned book. These tortured creatures are but another form of the same smoke.

To the question of where they came from, if your fisherman pokes around enough and braves the darkness, he may have already found a response in one of the many obelisks scattered around the map. Specifically, I refer to this.

This would suggest the aberrants themselves are what leaked in through the cracks that the largest of all monsters wants to rend apart? Not entirely, but in part. For the researcher at the Stellar Basin came to her own conclusion I want to factor in.

Her words give credence to the possibility that it is actually those greater beasts themselves at the heart of the corruption. I think she was half onto something, because what if these twisted forms, both large and small, were blooms along the same set of festering roots?

The more dark stones you disturb in the frenzy of your own madness, the more you learn about the age before your arrival, about the islands, and especially about their current guardians. The Mindsuckers- carrion puppet masters given a home, the Basin creature- a spore that miraculously survived its dive to the abyss, and the Serpent- lifeless stone made animate and malicious, all had their creation remembered in great detail by the obelisks. Some hints point that their emergence was rather recent, relative to even more powerful beings, such as the leviathan.

Maybe there are even more unseen horrors far below, blessedly out of our reach, for now. My view is that the malformed beasts are the aimless children of such unfathomable things waiting beyond the veil. With them came its influence, and its corruption, and from them it continues to spread to all life surrounding. The smaller rifts were always a transformative disease upon the harbor’s fish, but with the rise of the new monsters, the sickness runs farther and less avoidably than ever. Whether these aberrant spawn are a gift to the worthy, or another deceptive evil that leads to madness remains left to be seen.

I have given a spotlight to each of these fascinating specimens at the back of Dredge’s encyclopedia, including those found in the Pale Reach and Iron Rig expansions, for further comment, ponderance, and appreciation.

[#104-109]

[#110-115]

[#116-122]

[#123-129]

[#130-135]

[#136-141]

[#142-148]

[#149-154]

[#155-159]

[#160-164]

[#165-168]

[#169-172]

[#173-180]

[#181-187]

[#188-194]

[#195-198]

[#199-202]

[#203-207]

[#208-212]

[#213-218]

[#219-224]

[#225-229]

[#230]

[Bonus I. Night Angler]

[Bonus II. Serpent]

[Bonus III. Basin Creature]

[Bonus IV. Mindsuckers] (WIP)

[Bonus V. Unseeing Mother] (WIP)

[Bonus VI. “Narwhal”] (WIP)

[Bonus VII. Gleaming Goliath] (WIP)

[fuckitpossumorb]

!!SPOILERS FOR STARDUST RHAPSODY!!

A tiny detail about Pyke’s backstory is about what drove him to leave the Prismatic Pathway, though it’s still not fully clear there is a tiny part in the explanation he gives to the crew in episode 12 while they’re at the diner.

He says that after his core (soul, whatever you want to call the thing that gives him his abilities) unlocked Khan helped him nurture his inherent abilities and that it helped him in racing, at least until he found out that Khan was keeping information about this core away from Pyke to try and “protect” him.

They didn’t agree on whether it was actually necessary and Pyke wanted to investigate this new information and go on adventures, they fight, and Pyke leaves.

I can’t help but compare this with Dandy.

Rett and Pyke keep the details of how they found her away from Dandy for the longest time, maybe as Rett’s idea, he wouldn’t want Dandy to think she’s evil or want the situation of her being found affect her in any way so he keeps it a secret, to protect her from it.

I wonder if Pyke had any issues with it, he seems to go along with Rett’s ideas most of the time, even when he sometimes has different thoughts. Do you think it ever ate at him? When Dandy asked and was curious about her past? Do you think he finally understood Khan’s reasoning?

Do you think Pyke ever saw himself in Dandy? Curious about the world around her, not the brightest of the team but still eager to help and devout to the things she loves.

During the prelude Pyke asks Rett what a mining colony looks like, and he gets a very dull answer, “you’ve seen rocks? You’ve seen dust? That’s about it” and Pyke looks the slightest bit dejected about it, would he ever see Dandy react like him in a similar situation and feel it tickle something inside him?

In episode 4, despite the fact he doesn’t want to spend a single second more in the temple he still tells Dandy that he’ll wait and help her out if she wants to investigate further to learn about her past.

Then, in episode 10 he’s the one that gives Dandy the sapphire and encourages her to try and use it.

When Dandy connects with the ship Rett feels scared, concerned about what will happen, he looks at Pyke and he’s nearly gleeful, watching Dandy take control and push for the answers she wants.

Does it remind him of himself once or is he hoping that Dandy will get the answers he never got?

After the ship starts coming down and they run away he cheers Dandy, beside his general adrenaline junkie-ness and his search for thrills, he looks at Dandy and he says “and its great because YOU made the choice”.

Then everything just goes to hell.

He goes out of his way to defend Dandy, even after Rett already told him they need to leave, he pushes himself further, desperate to keep his promise (“They have her, we can’t leave her, we promised her..”).

In episode 11 when Jolly says she could bring her back, just like she was, he doesn’t even look at the idea, suddenly pushed into the position of trying to keep his remaining crew steady he still thinks back at Dandy and how she would be so sad if she came back and Chuckles wasn’t there.

Because that’s where his mind goes, that’s what he tells Rett.

Finally in episode 12, Rett tells the crew he doesn’t want them to talk about Dandy anymore, he wants them to try and live normally, and Pyke stands his ground.

He still accepts it, in a way (“I won’t mention her again, but I am not giving up”) at least for Rett’s sake but he’s not leaving Dandy behind, not after he already broke one promise.

When he talks to Khan he says he doesn’t regret leaving, (he doesn’t take decisions back, he sticks with them even when they bite him in the ass), but he still agrees he should have never left.

If he never left he would have never met Rett, never met Dandy or Kavir or Leboosh or Chuckles. Rex probably wouldn’t have left either, they wouldn’t have ever followed him to Aurora, to the temple, never found the sapphire, never had to use it, it would stay dead and buried.

Do you think he blames himself?

[thestupidhelmet]

How would you have written the Jay and Leia's first time storyline? You talked about how there was no emotional impact and it basically just fell flat, so how would you have handled it?

Hi! 😃

Within the context of T9S as it is, that's a tough question to answer. Jay and Leia's first time storyline fits the overall lighter, more superficial tone of T9S vs. T7S.

I would've rewritten Jay and Leia's whole storyline, tbh. I would've given both characters different core characterizations, particularly Jay. Leia's malaise and unhappiness at her Chicago life would remain the same; the cause for it would be deeper.

The foundation of their relationship would've built on depth rather than the superficiality of a Kelso clone who's capable of lasting growth and a Leia whose unhappiness is portrayed as significantly deeper than the reasons the show gives for it.

Like Eric/Donna and Jackie/Hyde before them in T7S, Jay and Leia would've connected with each other through finding solace from their woes in each other as well as joy.

Donna is Eric freedom from his (perceived and actual) suffocating and hyper-controlled home life. Eric is Donna's emotional stability and safety that she doesn't have at home.

Jackie is Hyde's challenger to face his fears of abandonment and his teacher that he's not unlovable. Hyde is Jackie's teacher that love isn't shiny presents and obedience but acts of love, like sacrificing what makes him happy to cheer her up, going to jail in her stead, becoming homeless (almost) to protect her reputation, and so much more.

Jay and Leia's relationship lacks depth because the characters do. As I've written previously, Jay in actuality would not be a Kelso clone with his upbringing by two ever-divorcing, ever-remarrying parents who are in a toxic relationship. He'd have a lot of emotional baggage and, hopefully, be a thoughtful kid rather than being a relatively carefree womanizer who overuses the word bro.

Leia is raised by two loving parents in a healthy relationship yet suffers from a sadness that is portrayed (intentionally or not) as mild depression. Finding joy and freedom in Point Place starts with her discovering Gwen, who is her real force of change. T9S would've needed Leia to stumble upon Jay, not Gwen, letting loose in his room to forge that bond.

Like Eric and Donna, their relationship would've begun platonically. Their first attraction to each other would be emotional, not aesthetic or sexual. In season 1, we would've seen their bond develop and grow, connecting Leia to Jay's friend group and -- perhaps -- causing some insecurity-jealousy-resentment from Jay's best friend, Nate. At the end of season 1, Jay and Leia's emotional bond has transformed into a romantic one, and they kiss.

In season 2, Part 1, Jay and Leia would navigate figuring out whether they want to "sacrifice" their friendship for a romance. Leia might be idealistic about it because of her parents' relationship while Jay is more cautious because his parents' relationship sucks. He'd rather keep a healthy friendship with Leia than risk a potentially toxic romance with her.

But with guidance from his friends and Red and Kitty, he realizes he and Leia don't have to be Jackie and Kelso or Eric and Donna. They can be Jay and Leia. Part 1 ends with Jay and Leia officiallybin a romantic relationship.

In season 2, Part 2, Leia is sex-positive and ready to have that connection with Jay. Jay, however, has witnessed how sex tears his family apart. He's afraid that having sex might turn him into his dad, and he'd never want to hurt Leia the way his dad hurts his mom. This would be a nice parallel and reversal of Eric and Donna's storyline in T7S.

Leia, and perhaps other characters, help Jay understand that he's nothing like his dad. He's not selfish or narcissistic. That he worries about hurting Leia proves this fact (as does so much more). Betsy, too, could've been used as an ally rather than an antagonistic. She and Jay could've bonded over and validated their dad's awfulness to their mothers.

Jay and Leia connecting sexually, having their first time, would be an affirmation of the freedom and joy they've found in each other. The actual act could've been awkward, although Donna prepared Leia how to make it less awkward. Sexually-experienced Nate could've given Jay good advice: 1) jerking off earlier in the day so that he'd last longer with Leia and 2) all about foreplay being important (although it might've been an hilarious callback to T7S had Kitty told him this information).

The scene itself, with all the emotional build up of season 1 through much of season 2, would've allowed for Jay and Leia's first time to have a similar emotional impact for the audience as Eric and Donna's.

In the aftermath, Leia is blissful and shares TMI with her friends. Jay, though, is happy but anxious. He still thinks he's got a ticking time bomb of his dad's infidelity in him. So he proposes he and Leia not have sex again for a while. In his mind, this will prove he doesn't need sex to be happy.

Leia: You mean like a week?

Jay: More like a month, maybe two. Three at the most.

Leia: I might be in Chicago or California by then if my mom doesn't let me stay in Point Place.

To Leia's mind, she thinks Jay hated having sex with her.

This conflict is resolved swiftly, however (in an episode). Jay admits enthusiastically that he loved having sex with Leia. He felt super close to her. He's just afraid he'll sleep with another girl.

Leia: Do you was to sleep with another girl?

Jay: No! But what if it's instinct, like salmon returning to where they were born to spawn?

Leia grasps his shoulders gently and kisses him. Afterward, she says, "Were you thinking another girl then?"

Jay: I wasn't thinking at all! I just --

Jay kisses Leia back, passionately. This leads to them making love again.

As they hold each other in bed, Leia says, "Still scared?"

Jay: Of what?

Leia: Cheating on me with other girls.

Jay (deadpan): What is cheating? Or other girls? I don't understand these alien concepts.

He and Leia grin at each other then make out.

***

The deeper the characters, the deeper the storylines. T9S's writing isn't deep. It's easy. It's funny but nowhere near as funny as T7S because -- at its best -- T7S's humor rose organically from the deeper characters and their deeper storylines.

T9S is another case of having a great opportunity, a great cast, and squandering it by writing toward the middle to satisfy nostalgic T7S fans and appeal to new ones. T7S didn't have the pressure of being a sequel to another show. Its creators were free to be fully original.

[countryclubkook]

Too kind for your own good

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, death, language, toxic father and son relationship, small mention of abuse (ward slaps Rafe), guns, spoilers for obx, language, very violent and intense situation, there is no happiness here, this is pure heartbreak and angst with no fluff in sight

Summary: You find out the truth about Rafe and he doesn’t take it so well, now he has to make a choice. You or his father, but things don’t exactly go as planned and he has to suffer the consequences of his own selfish actions.

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about the ending because I could not figure out how I wanted this to end but I needed to get it out so I hope you enjoy. The timelines in this are a bit different from the show and there are certain things mentioned here that happen at different times in the show than in the story and that is solely for writing purpose,

“Oh princess, can’t say i’m surprised to see you turn against us. You always were too kind for your own good” Rafe’s voice was slow and taunting, a sadistic look of happiness on his face at the way your body tensed up and how your eyes went dark at the sight of him.

The gun that he’d used to shoot Sarah waving around in the air as if it was his prize. Her blood still staining your mind from the picture you’d seen when they talked to the police, not knowing whether or not she’d made it after the adrenaline inevitably wore off made you sick. It wasn’t until the three of you got back to OBX and Kelce ran to the country club telling Rafe he’d seen her and John B that you’d known she was still alive. You never thought Rafe would try to kill his own sister, you didn’t think he was capable of killing anyone until you found out the truth about Peterkin.

“I’ll miss you Y/N. I’ll make sure your pretty face is the headline of every news station though, can’t just let you die without the fame of it all. And John B over there,” he nodded to the unconscious body of the innocent teen boy that was blamed for all this mess, the boy who had been through so much for wanting to find gold and be with the girl he loves, “He’ll be easy to frame for your…tragic end. I mean come on, you’re my girlfriend, you tried to reason with him and keep him away from my dad and I because he was becoming unhinged and it got ugly, he shot you and then himself. Problem solved”

Your breathing hitched as you tried backing away from him. Your legs felt like jelly and your hands were shaking uncontrollably, you’d never seen Rafe like this and it was scaring you. He wasn’t actually going to kill you right? The way he took long strides towards you was telling you otherwise, the crazy yet calm look in his eyes as if you were nothing to him hurt you more than any weapons could. You remained quiet though, something that seemed to piss him off.

“Why are you so quiet huh? Fucking answer me bitch!” it took everything in you not to flinch. Instead, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

“What do you want me to say Rafe? What am I supposed to say in this situation?” your voice trembled slightly and you cursed your body for giving away your true fear. He let out a humorless chuckle and began to circle you.

“You can beg, I know you’re good at that. All those little home videos of you on your knees begging me to use you, to hurt you, to do whatever I want, they prove that” you swallowed back tears and gave him a look of acceptance. There was nothing you could do to prevent your death, why bother fighting it and giving him the satisfaction?

“Why? Why not just kill me now huh? Kill me and John B and take what you’ve always wanted Rafe, make your daddy proud” he looks at you with furrowed brows and tilted his head slightly.

“What?” he asks in confusion, watching as you slowly walked towards him with seemingly no fear.

“I said,” another step towards him until you were directly in front of him “kill me. Fucking kill me Rafe”

His face tensed, you were supposed to be scared, beg him to let you go, not beg him to kill you. What the fuck was happening right now?

“Y/N-“ you cut him off with a harsh shove to his chest.

“Murder me Rafe! Fucking murder me like you murdered Sheriff Pete” shove.

“Shoot me like you shot your sister!” another shove before you began beating on his chest with closed fists.

“Murder me Rafe! MURDER ME!” you began screaming as something inside you snapped. All the fear, all the betrayal, the confusion, all of it coming to the surface and exploding.

“Y/N stop! What-“ again he was cut off by a combination of hits and shoves as you broke down in front of him.

“MURDER ME! MURDER ME! MURDER ME! MU-“ a harsh gasp leaving your throat as you gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. Neither one of you looked down knowing it wasn’t good.

He watched in pure fear and panic as his father pulled a knife out of your back and shoved you to the ground. His face was void of emotion as he watched Rafe fall to the ground with you and cradle your bleeding out frame. Tears had fallen onto your cheeks like little rain droplets as Rafe’s eyes teared up just the same.

“Dad, what did you do? What the fuck did you do?!” his voice came out in a broken yell as he tried to apply pressure to your stomach in hopes it would stop the bleeding.

But the blood kept pouring out, staining his hands. The ring you’d bought him for your one year anniversary now covered in your blood, he was going to have to hold you as you died, all because of him, with the jewels you gave him. How fucking twisted was that? Your pained groan pulled him out of his thoughts as he quickly realized he couldn’t save you. Your clothes were soaked in blood as were his pants, and the pool of blood had soaked your hair and left small streaks on your face.

Ward stood there with a look of disappointment at the scene in front of him. “We need to take care of him now son. We can’t let emotion get in the way, I mean it’s not like you loved her that much anyway seeing as you were about to kill her” he was right. Rafe was about to kill you and pin it all on John B solely because you’d seen how much of a monster he was and wanted to leave. All his potential to be good and have a good thing ruined just for his dad’s acceptance. But it’s not like he could change it now, especially when your blood was caked onto his hands.

“W-well, I guess this is how it ends. Who would,” you cough, blood pooling in your throat as you do, “who would have thought” a sad yet lazy smile on your face.

“I-i’m sorry baby. I’m so fucking sorry” he meant for everything. For dragging you into this mess, for being the reason you died, for being so fucked up and needing his dads approval and acceptance so bad that he threw all the good down the drain just to get it.

All he could do was mutter small apologies as he cradled and rocked your cold and bloody body while your breathing got slower and slower until it stopped, one final raspy breath in and a small gurgle sound caught in the back of your throat. His face screwed up as tears formed in his eyes, he couldn’t be bothered to wipe them. He wanted to keep holding you until you were pried from his hands, but Ward had other plans. There was no time for him to mourn on his schedule.

“Rafe. come on son,” a deep sigh filled the room as Ward wiped his hands on his face “Let’s finish this. Make me proud, we’re so close to this being done”.

Right. John B was still there, this was all for gold and not just some tragic accident that he could genuinely say he had no part in. His hands reached for your face, gently moving his fingers to close your eyes that he used to look so deeply into out of pure love and admiration, to trace every last feature of yours one last time. You looked so beautiful even in death, that’s all Rafe could think about. How his girl managed to look so beautiful even after being fucking stabbed and covered in her own blood.

“I love you. I’m sorry” one last kiss to your cold and parted lips before he stood, gently laying your body on the ground.

“Good, now come on. Help me with John B, if we kill him here we can make it look like a set up” fuck, this was crazy. Sure Rafe hated the pogues and wanted to get the gold…but he also loved you. But he loved his dad as well and he was just starting to be proud of him and accept him as his son, what was he supposed to do?

“Rafe!” Ward's voice pulled him out of his thoughts “Come on son, what are you doing?”

He watched Rafe pace back and forth, his hands pulling at his hair before roughly pressing onto his eyes. He was starting to get nervous at his son’s erratic behavior and knew he needed to help ground him before he lost total control and did something that would fuck them both.

“Dad, I'm not okay. This isn’t okay, oh my god you killed her. You killed her dad, why did you do that?” he repeated to Ward over and over again before he came over and placed his hands on both sides of Rafe’s face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay son. We’re going to get the gold and everything is going to be fine'' Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes before pushing his dads hands off his face.

“None of this is okay dad, you fucking killed her!” slap.

“Watch your tone Rafe. All of this is your fucking fault, you fucked us all! Now either you help me with John B or you go down for it all” he watched Rafe swallow harshly as he touched his face, time was running out and he couldn’t wait for his son to gather his emotions.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry dad”

“There’s my boy, let’s end this. Now” Ward moved over to where John B remained unconscious and signaled Rafe to come over.

Rafe would do anything to make his dad proud and he hated it, especially when your bloody and lifeless corpse laid just inches away from him, serving as a reminder of his choices. All he could do was look at you while his father talked to him, your hands almost as if they were reaching for him even in death, and he fucking hated himself. He wished you would have just stayed away, that you would have told him to go fuck himself months ago and left to save yourself. But you always saw the good in him, and as he always reminded himself, you always were too kind for your own good, and your kindness got you killed along with his selfishness.

[jenanigans1207]

“What about angels?” Dean turns his gaze to Cas over the rim of his beer bottle.

“What about them?” Cas answers, his gaze unwavering as ever as it meets Dean’s steadily from his spot in the chair next to Dean.

“Do they have any, y’know?” Dean gestures vaguely in the air with the hand that isn’t holding his beer.

Cas sighs. “No, Dean, I don’t know.”

Dean suspects that isn’t actually true. Cas has been good at reading Dean like an open book and to filth equally and simultaneously practically since the moment they met and he has never had any qualms about stating Dean’s unspoken truths if he felt it was necessary, no matter how Dean felt about it. So he certainly would be able to follow the thought process Dean had followed to jump from their previous topic to this one. But sometimes Cas just liked to fuck with Dean, and other times he liked to force Dean to communicate clearly, despite them both being on the same page and knowing it.

“Mating rituals.” Dean supplies because it becomes clear that whether Cas knew what he meant or not, he wasn’t going to offer anything further to this conversation unless Dean started it.

“You’re asking about angel mating rituals?” Cas asks with enough surprise that Dean briefly thinks that maybe he really didn’t know.

“Well,” Dean shrugs and takes a long draw of his beer. “Yeah.”

Cas’s gaze turns curious as it pierces into Dean, and he looks like he would love to probe around in Dean’s head for some sort of explanation. “Angels don’t—“

“Wait!” Dean cuts him off before he gets a chance to answer. “I want to guess.” He swirls the remaining half of the beer around in his bottle while he thinks before snapping a finger and pointing it at Cas. “I bet you’re like peacocks! You fluff your feathers up all big and do some dorky dance.”

The look on Cas’s face is priceless— somewhere between shocked and incredulous and Dean wants to commit it to memory forever. “No, Dean.”

“Damn.” Dean mumbles, reclining in his seat. “What about a nest? Do you build nests for your mates? Not with like twigs and shit, obviously, but— I dunno, pillows or blankets or something?”

“I believe that’s called a pillow fort.” Cas supplies dryly.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Dean taps a finger along the edge of his beer bottle, the condensation cool against his fingertip. “Find a shiny rock and gift that to them? Or like, a pretty piece of glass or something?”

Cas’s expression has turned long-suffering. “Are you going to compare me to every feathered creature you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean doesn’t even try to hide his own self-satisfied amusement. “If you give me long enough.”

Dean tries to think of anything that he can actually picture Cas doing. Because yeah, Cas likes shiny rocks and pretty glass as much as anybody does just because they’re nice to look at, but he doesn’t seem overly affected by them. And yeah, when he naps, he’s been known to find the softest and coziest blanket to curl up with, but that’s just smart. Dean has never seen Cas’s wings, so that’s a fifty-fifty shot, he supposes, but he’s also never seen Cas dance and can’t even picture it in his head.

“Well, allow me to spare us a long— though very enlightening, I’m sure— conversation.” Cas’s glare is unimpressed but it slides right off Dean while barely even drawing his attention. “Angels don’t have mating rituals because angels don’t mate.”

That stops all of Dean’s thoughts short. He turns his gaze back to Cas, surprised to find that Cas has turned to stare absently at one of the bookshelves in the room.

“They don’t?” Dean asks after the silence stretches thin between them.

“No.” Cas answers. And though his response is firm, it’s not mean or cold. “Angels don’t know love, Dean. At least, not romantic love. The only sort of love an angel is meant to feel is the sort of holy love for our father and his creations. The idea of romance doesn’t exist in heaven or to angels at all. There’s no need for mating rituals when mating isn’t something that would ever occur to or appeal to an angel.”

Dean thinks about this for a long time, the rim of his beer bottle pressed against his lower lip but he doesn’t take a sip.

In general, Dean has no problem believing that angels don’t love. In general, angels are selfish dicks and he can’t imagine any of them caring about anything other than themselves. In general, angels would never put someone before themselves in a way that’s required for both platonic and romantic love. But in more specific terms—

Well there is one angel who wears a trench coat and a tie that matches his eyes. There’s an angel who fell from heaven for the love of humanity. There’s an angel who has bled for love, died for love, given up everything that love is supposed to mean to an angel and completely rewritten the definition. There is an angel that has spent the better part of a decade looking at Dean in a way that he doesn’t look at anyone else, making Dean’s toes curl in his boots with the intensity of it.

“But…” the gears are turning as Dean tries to refocus his gaze on Cas. Cas isn’t looking directly at him, but Dean knows that Cas is watching him in his periphery, gauging Dean’s reaction without looking like he’s putting a significant amount of weight into it. “That’s not true.”

“Dean, I am quite certain that I know more about angels than you do.” Cas remarks.

Dean doesn’t rise to the bite of the comment. “But you love.” He says instead.

“Of course, I love humanity and the Earth very much.” Cas answers reasonably.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I know.” And then, “but I mean romantically.”

“Dean—“

“Don’t you?” Dean challenges.

Cas doesn’t answer the question directly. “I am not a very good angel.”

“You’re the only good one.” Dean replies quickly and easily, with every ounce of sincerity he has.

Because Cas is the only good Angel. Cas is the only one who gets it, who cares, who actually wants what’s best for the world.

Cas is also the only one who can make Dean’s stomach squirm the way it does whenever he’s at Dean’s side. He’s the only one who makes Dean feel safe, the only one Dean trusts. He’s the only one Dean would ever trust or picture a future with. He’s the only one who makes Dean’s fingertips tremble, his heart stumble, his throat dry.

Granted, he’s the only person who does any of that for Dean, Angel or not.

“You think too highly of me.” Cas says before sipping his own beer that he had been nursing for the majority of the conversation.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Dean hedges.

Because— yeah, okay, Dean isn’t stupid. He sees his own feelings reflected in Cas’s eyes when Cas looks at him. He understands what it means when Cas steps closer to him, or gives up an entire goddamn army for him. Dean can be slow on the uptake with emotional shit, but he’s not that slow. And it probably helps that he sees it so clearly because he feels it so clearly in his own heart.

He knows the yearning, the longing, the desire. He knows all the fantasies of the happy-ever-after, all the filthier fantasies that fill up the days in between. He knows what it’s like to want to cling to Cas, to desperately plead with him to never leave Dean’s side. He knows the agony of their separation as acutely as possible. He gets it.

And he also knows why this has never happened, why neither of them have ever crossed that line, even though they’ve never even dared to hint at its existence before. Because he knows that what they would have— that would be forever. It would be ruinous in the most beautiful way, burning down everything around them and blazing a path to eternity. And for so many goddamn years, forever and eternity were in danger. For so many years, a future of any goddamn length was in danger.

What would be the point of starting something meant to last forever when forever didn’t exist? It hurt like enough of a bitch every time Dean lost Cas and he didn’t know if that was the last time he’d ever see him. If he’d lost his forever then, too, instead of just his best friend— well, what the hell reason would he have had to keep fighting? It was self preservation in its barest form, the knowledge that they could only keep going if they kept apart. Because that would keep them fighting, keep them determined to reach the day where forever was finally secured and they could fall into each other without reservations.

And, well, Dean hadn’t killed Chuck, but he had taken the bastard off the board so forever was well and truly theirs if they wanted it.

And Dean wanted it.

He wanted it so bad he almost didn’t know how to have it.

Cas is staring back at Dean now, seeming to go through the same mental calculations that Dean is going through. Dean just hopes that Cas has any idea how to reach out and grab the one thing they both want.

Cas takes a breath, sets his beer down.

“Yes.” He answers simply. “I do.”

Dean swallows against a dry throat. “So?” He prompts. “What’s your big game plan? You get to make up any mating ritual you want.”

“You know,” Cas says offhandedly. “If I tell you my big ‘game plan’, as you call it, you will have to give me feedback on it. How else am I meant to know if it would work?”

Dean licks his bottom lip. “I’m being trusted to approve the first ever angel mating ritual?” He aims for lighthearted, even though he can feel his pulse in his fingertips. “Lay it on me.”

“Well,” Cas doesn’t sound as nervous as Dean feels, even though he knows that he doesn’t really have any reason to feel that way. “I was thinking that I would start with the classic spark— maybe have multiple, raining down.”

Dean chokes on half of a disbelieving laugh.

“Then I would spend about, oh, over a decade at his side, always coming when he called and leaving when he got sick of me. I would try very, very hard to navigate his boundaries and I would be unsuccessful.” Cas’s smile is wry. “I would betray him a time or two.”

“Keep him guessing.” Dean says, the smile clear in his voice.

“Exactly.” Cas is smiling more genuinely now. “I would probably die for him a few times, too. Maybe even accidentally start a family with him.”

Dean has set his own beer down now. “You gotta add in some, like, intense eye contact, or something.”

“And no personal space.” Cas agrees with a nod.

Dean laughs outright now, the nerves draining completely from his body. He had no idea the conversation would steer this way when he had asked what he assumed was an innocent enough question, but he’s glad that it did. Because if he’d had time to prepare for this conversation, time to anticipate it, he knows that he would’ve chickened out. Just like he has so many times in the past.

When his laughter dies down, Cas says “well?”

“What can I say, man?” Dean leans onto the armrest of his chair, putting himself closer to Cas. “It would work on me.”

“Oh, would it?” Cas asks as he, too, leans into the barely there space that’s separating them.

“Hell yeah.” Dean murmurs, reaching across to wrap a hand around Cas’s tie. “Would have me all weak-kneed and giggling.”

Cas starts to say something back but Dean honestly doesn’t give a shit what, so he tugs on the tie and draws Cas to him, pressing a far overdue kiss to his lips. Cas, as always, meets him in the middle, a hand gently encircling Dean’s wrist as he kisses him back with ten years of pent of adoration.

One kiss turns into two, turns into seven before they finally settle back into their respective seats.

“First angel mating ritual in history,” Dean says around a satisfied smile. “And you were successful.”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to tell the other angels in case any of them have a free decade to spend seducing one of the most frustratingly stubborn men on earth.” Cas replies in a way that is full of endearment instead of the frustration he mentioned.

Dean just laughs and kisses him again.