#So let's not argue over dumb things shall we

[sheep-turtles-and-pizza]

To every "April shouldn't be shipped with the turtles" or "It's a bit weird that she's with all of them at once" of anything of this kind, I kindly respond that....

Or you could ignore me or, even better, block me.

Just like everyone can't laugh at the same joke, we can't all like the same thing.

I can understand that people doesn't like or feel uncomfortable with my content. I'm sure you have your own reasons to disagree with my point of you.

but don't make it my problem.

You may like April being a found family. I like her being their best friend, their rock, part of their clan, their soulmate, their lover.

Let us enjoy our own things, shall we?

#I'm not a proshippers #and I'm sure you guys don't wanna be bullies #So let's not argue over dumb things shall we #fee talks #self insert

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I shouldn't have to make this post but Nintendo fans are trying extremely desperately to position the company whose cock they love the taste of in a good light and are generally doing this by spreading misinformation about the legalities of emulation so let's go over a number of the fabrications shall we?

Emulation is illegal to monetize This has so far been one of the really big ones that's taken traction, usually partnered with the sister lie that yuzu was paywalling access to early access builds. These are both lies, and are untrue. yuzu is far from the only modern emulator to be monetizing itself, plenty of mobile emulators do it, but developing an emulator for money is entirely legal. We have pretty much all of our emulation precedent set thanks to a series of lawsuits in the very early 2000s thanks to Sony suing an emulator called Bleem. There's a lot to say about Bleem, but Bleem was a commercial emulator. You could buy Bleem, in stores. At no point was there ever a court decision that Bleem was wrong to do so (despite Sony's best efforts).

Emulating current generation software or hardware is illegal. This is also wrong, and kind of fundamentally misunderstands a lot when it comes to emulation. Once again, Bleem was at the time emulating current generation software. It was a generation in its twilight, but Bleem first released in March of 1999: the Playstation 2 was not out yet. The reason why current generation software does not tend to be emulated is because we do not really have the tech or processing power to do it yet. The Switch's lower specs are entirely the reason it has had an emulator developed well ahead of the PS4 or the Xbone.

Yuzu's early access build allowed people to play Tears of the Kingdom ahead of release date This one is a couple of different statements packed together, and while I'm given to believe there's a chance other games may have been playable ahead of release, this specific statement is a lie, and maybe the funniest one on the list because it's a lie that's not even backed up by the lawsuit.

The lawsuit is extremely clear in its language that it was modded instances of Yuzu that could play Tears of the Kingdom ahead of release date, not publicly accessible builds of Yuzu. Nintendo's argument here lies in Yuzu being open source: part of the lawsuit alleges that Yuzu is responsible for any and all acts of piracy done by its users, whether or not they used official or modded builds of Yuzu. This is, of course, a fundamentally fucking insane position to argue from. It is not a particularly uncharitable reading of this as an attack on open source software to begin with, as this precedent would make any developer liable for ANY illegal action taken by someone who modified their code. Supporting this, in my opinion, makes you an asshole and liable to be clocked in the fucking mouth.

4. Literally anything involving this screenshot.

I've seen this screenshot maybe three or four times with different takes on what exactly Illegal is happening here and I'm pretty content to just call it vibes at this point. Whether this is an intelligent screenshot is a different matter, but no one has been able to point to anything actually illegal being done here. There is already precedent in allowing one to make their own back-ups of software they own, even if decryption or bypassing copy protection to do so, which is a large majority of software. Switch games are not the only games that are either encrypted or have copy protection, and this is both not the earliest generation to do it AND its not the only industry that does it.

The only point of interest here is the date, which I've seen literally no one bring up, but this correlates into another point: personal piracy is still not something Yuzu is liable for. It's a dumb thing to broadcast, but it doesn't change anything material about the software.

5. Yuzu folded because Nintendo had a smoking gun

I, I just, I'm sorry this one isn't just a lie its a really naive and incompetent view of the faults of our legal system. If anything, the settlement seems to indicate the opposite. If Nintendo was sure they had Yuzu dead the rights, they wouldn't have fucking settled. Both parties need to agree to settle! Nintendo is actively interested in trying to set legal precedent that emulation is illegal, because Nintendo is great at saying obviously wrong things with a straight face.

This could be a reason, but remember, this was a civil lawsuit, not a criminal one. Civil lawsuits have a difference in how evidence is handled, and it's pretty likely that Nintendo just has more evidence than user does on account of being able to afford a larger legal team and having planned for this lawsuit in advance, regardless of how strong that evidence actually is. It's why most of the arguments in the lawsuit read kind of insane. Civil lawsuits are not handled "beyond a reasonable doubt".

There's also the fact that legal cases can be extremely expensive, even when you know you are absolutely in the fucking right. I want to link this video by James Stephanie Sterling as evidence of this. They were completely in the fucking right, and the lawsuit still took an incredible amount of time and monetary expense to argue, and that's against an opponent who you could reasonably confuse with a scarecrow. This is ultimately how Sony eventually "won" against Bleem. Bleem never lost any of its lawsuits against Sony, in fact Sony ballsed it up twice against Bleem, but Sony continued to file lawsuits against Bleem and its company over and over, until Bleem literally could not afford it and went bankrupt.

There's also the matter of precedent. If Yuzu had taken this court, and lost, it would be really bad. There's a lot in this court case that you don't want precedent leaning towards, and due to, uh, America's current political climate and judicial regime, there's a fair chance the judge would have just sided with Nintendo anyways. Settling the lawsuit, while to be entirely clear, sucks complete ass for Yuzu as they were basically eliminated, protects the sphere of emulation as a whole.

So what was the salient parts of Nintendo's case?

The parts of Nintendo's case that hold the most weight have to do specifically with the encryption keys used to de-encrypt Switch games, and how those keys interact with the DMCA. There's no legal precedence to back this up, this is thoroughly untested grounds. This is actually where the buck stops with the Bleem cases: this one never went to a judgment for Bleem and hence never established precedent.

There's a pretty reasonable chance that Nintendo had a chance to win the lawsuit off of the back of this point. This doesn't make it a guarantee, but it's the part of the lawsuit that's actually important.

What happened with the settlement?

Well Nintendo got to legally extort the Yuzu devs and their parent company for $2.4 million. This is, strictly speaking, chump change to Nintendo but I in particular hate this part of lawsuits with a passion. In addition, as per the conditions of the agreement, all copies of Yuzu that were released and in development under the purvey of the company must be destroyed, the company and its devs can no longer work on Yuzu in any way possible, and they cannot work on any other emulation software. This is why Citra also closed down by the way: it was an unfortunate emulator in the cross fire. This in and of itself, is a tragedy, since this is basically court mandated brain drain. Undoubtedly Yuzu will be forked and someone will continue development on "Zuyu", but the loss is still felt.

Why should I care? Piracy is illegal.

This is where I'm going to wax philosophical for a moment, but Frankie my dear, I do not give a damn. Nintendo could have had full legal rights to do this, and I would still be of the opinion that Nintendo's legal team are ghouls and shouldn't feel safe showing their faces. This is how I felt when Nintendo shut down Emuparadise. Whether something is illegal does not impact whether it is right. Laws exist in a state of being able to be both just, unjust, or both.

Emulation is extremely important in the preservation of gaming as an artform, something that the game industry is extremely against in all forms. There's money to be made after all, and attempts at making sure that games are available to play are often attacked and criticized. This is part of the reason I'm so against the existence of copyright law. It doesn't matter what the intent of a system is, but it does matter what the system does, and it's transferred an overwhelming amount of power into the hands of large corporations while largely screwing small creators over.

I do not believe art has a price tag to it. I do not believe that art can and should only be enjoyed by the people a company has decided to sell it too. I do not believe that companies like Nintendo should be able to throw their legal weight around and ruin people's lives. You should be able to play Mother 3 and Shin Megami Tensei without having to wait for their parent companies to decide they actually want to sell it to you.

Piracy does not inflict meaningful damages to Nintendo. Despite Nintendo's whinging, Tears of the Kingdom sold over 20 million copies in half a years time, something that we can estimate to have made Nintendo about $1.4 billion in revenue. We live in a game industry which does not care about its game devs: it's perfectly willing to underpay them, to overwork them, and to eventually let them go. Nintendo is not innocent here. They have a history of mistreating their contract workers, and I personally know that these are not the only allegations that hold water.

In short, fuck Nintendo. Pirate all Switch games until the end of time.

[fvck-the-rest]

Helping Hand

Gojo x female? reader (reader is like a motherly figure)

word count: 1277

\warnings\ none, really just fluff, reader just wants to help Gojo out, this is so dumb

“There has to be SOMETHING that i can do to help you out Gojo, you don't even know the first thing about raising a kid!”, at this point, should have given up and gone home. But he was so stubborn- to stubborn- and claimed he knew everything there was to know about raising a kid. 

“Please, I'm THE strongest, I can handle a couple of kids, beside its my responsibility to care for them now anyway, I don't see our name anywhere in this.” He was getting on your nerves, wanting nothing more than to help these two kids have a motherly figure in their life and not be bright up to be just like Gojo- this was for the sake of the world. 

“Gojo look-” he put his hand over your face, preventing anything else that you had to say be lost into his palm. 

“Ah-ah, now you see y/n I don't need help, my responsibility, not yours, I'm the one who killed their father and I was the one who took it on myself to take them from being sold.”. He was so calm about taking them in, like it was nothing- he made it seem like he has done it a million times in his life. But, you knew he needed help , you say that he was tired and stressed. He had just lost his best friend, failed a mission and just killed a murder. But he was THE strongest so of course no one else would step in and help him or see that he was tired- beside he also wore sunglasses or something that covered his eyes. 

By now he had turned around and was walking back to his place to greet the kids. Following him in silence, he knew that you were there and that you were just trying to help but the last thing he wanted to do was cause you any sort of discomfort or stress. He didn't turn around to stop you and even left the door open for you when he got to the place. He walked into the kitchen and turned to look at you. 

“Look, if you really want to help,  when they get home they usually have a small snack while they start on homework. You can help them out and then I don't want to help anymore. “ Gojo took off his sunglasses and put them on the counter behind him before going to get the snacks that he gave them after school. 

Without a word you took it from him- not to his surprise though and brought it to the table in the next room. The white harried man follows you with drinks for all four of you. About to say that you can do more than help with some homework, you heard the sound of the door opening.  

They took off their shoes and came into the room you stood in, “Hello!” they both said to you, running over to hug.

“Hi kiddos, how were your days at school?” squatting down to b e eye level with them, hugging them back.  

“It was good, but my teacher gave me a lot of homework to do today.”Tsumiki said with a slight whine in her voice.

“My day was okay, but I have just a little bit of homework to do,” Megumi said on the other side of his sister, already getting his papers out and putting them at the table. 

“Okay, then we can get all your homework down and then maybe we can watch a movie together and maybe have Gojo get some snacks for all of us to share. How does that sound?”, standing to help Megumi and Tsumiki get all their papers out and settle at the table to do their homework. 

“Now let's started shall we, the sooner you get it down the sooner we can watch a movie.”, with that they were ready to start doing their homework while Gojo watched from the kitchen wondering how you got them both to do it without any word of complaint. At this point he would still be arguing with Megumi with who knows what.

After about an hour they were both down with their work and ready to watch a movie with you. But first you needed a snack for the movie first. 

“GOJO! COME ON WE GOTTA GET SNACKS FOR THE MOVIE” yelling out to try and figure out where the white haired man went. Not hearing anything from him you went looking, first to the bedroom. 

Laying on the bed passed out, there he was. He really was tired, deciding to leave him to sleep ,walking back to the front door.

“Gojo’s not coming with us, he has something to deal with right now. Come on, let's go before it gets too dark out”, opening the front door and holding their hands you walked to the store to get all the snacks and drinks that you would need for the night, then walking back just before it got dark. 

Asking them to pick out a movie, you went to go and check on Gojo again, who was -not to your surprise- was still fast asleep on his bed. 

Coming back, you put in the movie they picked and sat in the middle of them, opening things here and there. Soon enough switching on another movie, but this time they had both fallen asleep on the couch before finishing this one. 

Doing your best to not wake them up, you stand and pick up Tsumiki and bring her to bed then do the same for her brother. Once they were both in bed, making their way back to Gojo. 

He was starting to stir before mumbling to you, “What time is it”, just before burying his head into his pillow.

“It’s bedtime for you, and everyone else. Do you want me to stay the night? I can sleep on the couch so you don’t have to get up.” in a soft voice you tried to get him to lift his head from the pillow so you could hear him clearly. 

“I always want you to stay the night, y/n. I don't like when you leave, I get scared that you won’t come back. You can sleep in bed with me, just please don't leave."He was so tired, probably didn't even know what he was really saying or to whom he was saying this too. Yet he sounded so sincere and sad, but still leaving a blush on your face. There was no way that you could leave him in this state. 

“I’m not going anywhere Gojo, I'll stay the night here if you want me too. But I shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you.” letting out a small giggle before being grabbed and falling onto the bed. Landing next to Gojo , wrapped in his arms facing him.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, so I know that you won’t leave.” lifting your head to look at him, landing a small kiss on your forehead “Also, stop gaping my ‘Gojo’, we're close enough, you can call Saturo from now on, besides you're about to sleep in my bed, that should make us more than friends now. Of course if that's okay with you”

Letting out just a small nod, you let him wrap around you and pull the blanket over you both. Steading your breathing oto match his and the back rubbing he was giving you, it did not take long for you to fall asleep.Soon to be woken up by a loud bang of the little ones trying to make breakfast for you two.

#fvck-the-rest #x gn reader #x reader #x you #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojo x you #jujustu kaisen #satoru

[arch3ontumbl]

World Bearer Part 2

"He's here Shoko, I did it" I repeated in the seemingly deaf Shoko, the backround noise of the phone echoes the business calls for the injured sorcerers. For a second Shoko were about to speak, she hears your child cry as it woke up from it's first slumber.

"Shoko what is it? How's Gojo, please tell me he is fine now.. he broke free from the seal right.. he promised" I paused for a second

"Oh my world" I whisper to my sons ear as I brushed his hair back off to sleep. The phone remained silent after a thud on the other end of the line "Shoko?!" I kept repeating my worry growing

"y/n I'm so sorry" Shoko's words shot like a bullet straight to the head as if I knew what she was about to reveal even before she have said

"Gojo.. Gojo is—" I hear Shoko for the first time finally bursting out of her emotion bubble as mine broke, a wash of sudden realization that I am alone now with our son

How am I supposed to handle this

How am I supposed to live like this

How can I protect our son

How could you leave me like this, LEAVE US LIKE THIS

My mind running deeper and deeper as I haven't noticed my eyes crying out for a little mercy of the world to just spare my husband, spare Gojo, let us live in peace. How many times we argued, how many times I were to tell him to lay down the weight of the world off his shoulders. How many times, If only have tried harder to convince him to leave and just runaway with me and his son. How many times he said he bears responsibility that he was born with enormous power to be held guilt tripped from, he could have turned his back and walked away, ran away with me, but instead took what he could when he was the only one to protect the world against such evil.

For all od humanity, for the innocent, the greater good, the future.

But what about us

"c/n Satoru shall be your name" I wiped my tears yet it still spilled down to my cheeks, my child cry once again as I sat in pain from fresh labour and pure stress, big doubts and confusion. Anger, sadness, and grief. I doubt Shoko for the first time she delivers the news, the rest of Gojo's death explained on the phone had caused me to go deaf, I refuse to believe such news after his promise, he promised.

My ears ringing as I could hear the faint voice of Shoko through the phone calling my name again and again

I stood up as the pain between my legs hindered my walk, carrying my child with a bit of blood pooling the floor. I look outside as the night were so cold and lonely to protect a new little one. I wrapped him around a thicker cloth Gojo has bought in advance before, now to think back to it he bought houses, left money, children things and over filling our bank with his money and assets entitled to me. We chose everything together, thinking back now how dumb of me that everytime he thought of when anytime he could leave or this situation happens atleast he gave everything we would need for the least when he knew he was the one we need for the most.

I wept as the window were closed leaving me on a rocking chair in a warm fireplace, my child on my chest, my eyes wandering of the toys he bought in advance, the clothes he thought that would good look on his wife and his son, pairing family outfits.

My eyes puff, my heart aches, I try to be as silent as my son sleeping

I will protect you

I will give you the life without burden even with the power to lift so

I bear the world, I bear you my son

And I will not allow you to bear the world just because you were able to be born to shoulder so.

63 missed calls from Shoko.

Part 3?

#anime #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jujutsokaisen #jujutsu gojo #Jujutsu angst #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you

[thoughtfulfoxllama]

You wanted me to spill tea, and tea I will spill:

The Word of Wisdom is fundamentally misunderstood by everyone (myself included). Let's look at the Word of Wisdom, shall we?

Let's begin with the Prohibitions, as these are the only things enforced by the Church. They comprise of Alcohol, Tobacco, Illicit Drugs, Coffee, and Tea. From the start, we can't deny Tobacco, Coffee, or Tea. The WoW only said "Hot Drinks," but Hyrum (who was authorized to receive revelation for the Church at the time) said it meant Coffee & Tea.

On the subject of Tea, Herbs of the Field. The Lord has told us to use all the herbs of the field with prudence. This is not me saying to distrust medical professionals, but they can help sometimes. I can't count how many times I've had a horrible stomach ache helped by Peppermint Tea. But it'd be dumb to reject the advancements in medicine we've made in the past 10,000 years. This is also why I support medicinal marijuana (and other things like psychedelic therapy). As long as it is used in wisdom & moderation, it can do good for a number of physical and mental issues (such as my grandmother using it for her seizures, or that veteran who used it for his PTSD)

Finally, Alcohol. The Word of Wisdom only prohibits "strong drinks" (which was defined as distilled alcohol, like Vodka). It encourages Mild Drinks (such as beer), and says we can have wine, if Mormons make it. Joseph drank wine (for pleasure, not just for ritual), Brigham owned a Brewery, and on and on. Obviously, wisdom & prudence. If someone has alcohol issues, they shouldn't drink. This fits into my concept of Zion. Drinking for Pleasure is fine, but Drunkenness is unacceptable. We need to enjoy pleasure without getting consumed by them. But since so few of us can manage that, I see why the Church went the way it did

Next, what have we been encouraged to eat. Grain (which is the Staff of Life), Fruits, and Vegetables. There are people who can't eat them (people with Gluten Intolerances & the like), but I can't argue with this. Fruits and Veggies are good

Although, wisdom is required here too. Not all food is made equal. I'm not going to go completely crazy about GMOs (we've been modifying our food for over 5 millennia), but we need to be more careful about the affects. And the flour we use nowadays is stripped of basically all it's nutritional benefits

Final is the mixed category, namely meats & animal products

The WoW never actually mentions animal products, so this is all me. Animal Products are good, and should be used. Eggs (especially considering the "eat meat sparingly" part) are an amazing source of protein. Milk is good for calcium, if you're not lactose intolerant (like I am). The Lord approves of Honey so much he constantly mentions it in association with the Promised Land(s), and specifically told the Jaredites to take bees with them. But, like all foods we've covered so far, careful. My FiL used to be Egg Intolerant, until he started raising his own Chickens, and he's had no problems with those eggs (and they taste way better, and fill me up way more than Store-Bought ones)

The Lord taught us to "eat meat sparingly," and I've seen a bunch of interpretations, from Vegans to Carnivores. All hold some merits, but no one gets it all right. I don't even think I get this one. Ryan Hinkley (a Blogger & Podcaster) said part of his interpretation is that we should do the least harm. He advocates restricting meat use to meats like Venison and Beef, because they are large enough to feed a lot of people over a long period of time (and have you ever had Venison Tacos. Try it sometime, if you eat meat). It mentions Cold & Famine, and this could be because of the extra protein, which allows you to build mass, to keep warm in winter, and last longer in famine times. In addition, if you work in agriculture (especially in the time of JS), that's the most available food you have in the dead of winter. I want to add to this the prophecy about the Sons of Levi offering a sacrifice. Sacrifice for the remission of sins is done away with, but I believe animal sacrifice will return. In Biblical Animal Sacrifice, the Meat (for the most part) wasn't burned to dust, but roasted and eaten. If I am correct, and it does return, then the reason we are to eat meat sparingly is so that when we do eat it, it's as a celebration of the mercies of God. That's just my crackpot theory though, with ideas I've had floating around for years

(And this is all just a theory. I want to try restricting my meat intake & whatnot, but I don't feel ready for that. And even if the Church said we could drink, I probably wouldn't, because I have a family history of alcohol & drug abuse)

#mormon #lds #tumblrstake #queerstake #lds church #word of wisdom #mormon hot take #you can take my hot cocoa from my cold dead hands #and i can't sleep without vanilla chamomile

[thenightmarketofdathomir]

I just want to fuck him so badly.

Let's put that mature label to good use, shall we, friends?

One for the olds. You know if you know.

Warnings: Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, edging, teasing, orgasm denial, size kink, biting/claiming marks, teasing, bratting, D/s, pussy worship

Notes: AFAB cis reader.

Feral: Feral licks one (1) finger before ensuring that you come on it, not that you weren't already wet — but he does it as a courtesy: making sure he can slip it in and curl it up while you squirm, legs spread, gripping his shoulders, looking forever downwards between your bodies like you can see what he's doing. You can't. But you can feel it, and it zeroes out everything save for that long, insistent drumming against your g-spot as he brings you up and over, your knees clenching around his hips as he chuckles into your hair, all self-assured and knowing that you never stood a chance against him while you're fucked dumb on one finger. ONE. He pulls that digit out of you, still glistening with your release, and he pops it into his mouth to lick it clean on instinct but it makes his eyes roll back. You know he's not done with you. He's already pulling your legs apart before you whimper his name. "I just want a taste," he tells you, but he doesn't mean your mouth, and there's no arguing when he drapes you open and dips his head down so low that you can feel his breath against your slick — hot against cooling — and everything narrows to the flat, strong band of his tongue against your clit, and lower into your slit as the purr of his moan leaves you karking stupid when he laves at your nectar. Still, somehow, you manage to clamp onto him by the back of his neck while he puts in the work, laughing, as you grind on his grin.

Savage: You have to drip on him to get it wet. It hurts your hips. He's big. All of him. There's no cadence to it, it's just a matter of taking it; bobbed up beneath you while you cling to his shoulders and slide yourself up and down the length of his cock like it makes a stars-damned difference. All six ridges. Stupid ideas. Dumb propositions. You could have asked for a fist, but no -- here you are, grinding on him as he grunts his displeasure at being teased into your neck, those large hands pulling your ass cheeks apart as the occasional sway and rock of your hips almost gives you the tip of his cock. Every time, he pulls you back, makes you wait, leaves you a slavering, disgusting mess as your cunt throbs and clenches on nothing while he watches it with mild curiosity. "Are you going to behave?" he asks you eventually. But you're past the point of obeying anything he tells you, and when trying to slap his face for teasing you ends up with your wrists in one strong grip, your body dangling over his as he rubs and squeezes you like a piece of meat, senseless and tiny and pathetic with all your begging, he has the gall put his teeth into your tit and mark you as his. You don't mind the sting. You don't mind how he kneads the bruise in his strong fingers. But you do mind that he'll let you wet the head of his cock but refuse to give it to you until you're crying for him like he's the only thing.

Maul: Grumpy boy needs someone to tell him when to be soft. He's got his face pressed to the v of your cunt, breathing you in, while you stand over him, fingers threaded through the horns on the back of his head. You've bled; your palms are shredded, but he's having a rotten day and this is what he wanted. No kissing. No touching. Just his nose tucked into your apex and your thighs blotting out his sight. The occasional squeeze of his fingers, claws digging into the flesh of your ass, thighs slicked with your juices... and he does nothing. "Just darkness," he asked of you. "Just the oblivion of your pussy." You hadn't thought he meant literally. But this is intimate in a way that sex with him has never been: this is your body communing with his, the raze of your shaved pubis against lips that don't kiss you, but could. And every small movement, every shift and spill of breath leaves you jumpy and aching, wanting more, wanting him to kiss you, or to tell you to spread for him, or to kneel. But... he demands nothing but your body; your sex; your patience. This is worship. That's why your thighs wet with slick the longer he stays on his knees before you, not doing anything but holding you close against him until either one of you becomes desperate. It's a game for two: eventually, his hands will tighten, and he'll pull your legs apart, and his tongue will snake out to taste you, and one of you will lose. You hope it's you.

#Darth Maul #Savage Opress #Feral Opress #Darth Maul Smut #Feral Opress Smut #Savage Opress Smut #Darth Maul x You #Darth Maul x Reader #Feral Opress x Reader #Feral Opress x You #Savage Opress x Reader #Savage Opress x You #Maul x Reader #Maul x You

[usernoneexistent]

A/N: In ‘tales of the unexpected’ Winona gets caught being an accomplice in one of Sethel’s prank by her brother (which you can read here). So she conducts a plan to get back at Glenn which includes swooning their rival, Nolan Miller. Thanks to @cursebreakerfarrier for hosting this challenge.

Character featured: Victoria Summer @whatwouldvalerydo and Nolan Miller @hogwartsmysteryho.

Characters mentioned: Selene Fraser & Alan, Professor Figgs @lifeofkaze, Ethel Hexley @the-al-chemist, Oliver Gerard @kc-and-co, Professor Herron @cursebreakerfarrier.

Warnings: mentions of Sethel, dumb and impulsive decisions.

"Winona!" As her name was cried out in the cosy Gryffindor common room, the girl sank deeper into the lounge, knowing it signified trouble. Her kneazle, Emma was curled up in her arms. A shadow loomed over her as she finally looked up to see the caller of her name.

"Hello, my dear brother," putting on an obliviousness, Winona sat up properly to face Glenn.

"I'm not in the mood to play games, dear sister," he scolded. "I know it was you who told Hexley and Fraser where my soap was placed."

Oh dear, Winona had really gotten herself in a pit of trouble this time. Putting on her best act, she batted her eyelashes innocently, "I have no idea what you are referring to, Glenn—telling Ethel and Selene where your bar of soap was? Preposterous! I did no such thing!"

Glenn's stiffened his face, letting no emotion revealed upon his sister. He didn't buy the act. In fact, she instead admitted her guilt. The crime, simply answering a harmless question by Selene and Ethel, led to the most extraordinary transformation that Winona had ever witnessed in her fifteen years of living. The Gryffindor prefect walked in and sported bright, magnolia pink hair. He was made the laughing stock for days amongst everyone while simultaneously Selene and Ethel were the talk at Hogwarts to pull off such a defeat though their glory was short-lived. Glenn seemed to take this a little more personal this time, tracking all culprits one by one directly involved and indirectly through the past couple of weeks with detention.

"I'm telling mother about this, and we shall see how she responds," Glenn threatened.

"Fine, I did tell them where your soap was. Is this what you want me to say? However, don't tell mama that." Winona stood up, holding firmly onto Emma, ready to storm off and whine to her closest friend, Victoria, how unfair and ridiculous Glenn was.

"Your detention is to polish the silver for two weeks alongside Hexley and Fraser starting tomorrow. Consider this me being generous." With a tall stride, he walked away from Winona while he fixed the tie of a first year with the flick of his wand. She stuck out her tongue behind his back. Emma seemed tired of being held in Winona's arms and jumped to follow Selene's ferret Alan to play with him.

"Come on, Emma. Now you?"

-oOo-

Winona avoided Glenn at dinner, who was with Oliver Gerard, his closet and probably only male companionship. She was thankful for it; otherwise, she would have argued with him. A lot.

"Can you believe the audacity of my brother!" Winona started, taking a deep and dramatic sigh. " Giving me detention, his dear little sister!"

Her best friend, Victoria Summer, who was graced with patience, had to endure the dramatic retelling of how Winona got punished by her brother. However, Victoria knew that Winona had a tendency to go big and over-exaggerate the details.

"You know, Winona...I don't blame Glenn for reacting the way he is." Her tone her soft but firm. Victoria had this way of making one feel guilty without raising her voice in anger within mere seconds. "If I were him, I too would be upset to find out that my own sister would assist in such a horrendous prank. Poor Professor Herron, Professor Figgs and the grounds keeper had to clean up the mess and it took two weeks for the pink colour to be removed from Glenn's hair."

"Come on, Vicky. You are meant to be on my side." Winona played with her food, still angry about her brother. She looked behind Victoria and made the unfortunate mistake of catching the eye of a Nolan Miller at the Ravenclaw table. In the most unladylike behaviour, she stuck her tongue out. Nolan pulled a face back, being very gentlemen like of him. She couldn't stand Nolan and found he was as much of an arrogant composition of flesh and bones as her brother. Nolan would always try and beat Winona's test grades, using her to get back at Glenn due to the year gap between the two boys. So in Glenn's stead, she usually studied harder to beat Nolan's grades. Unfortunately, they mainly even out their grade averages, but Glenn would consistently rank higher than the two combined. Most of the time, anyhow.

The thought of Glenn alone seemed to rise anger in her, though another thought intruded. It was devious but Winona held onto the thought a little longer. She almost laughed at how ridiculous it was, but it would be insane enough to pull it off. The only and most genuine way to get back at her dear brother. But she would need Nolan for it to work.

Victoria turned to see who Winona was staring at. "Oh, Winona. You have got to stop this frivolous rivalry with Nolan."

"Actually, I was thinking of making amends with Nolan."

"Really?! It didn't look like that from my view."

"Well, I've decided that I'm going to make amends and end this pointless feud." Victoria was surprised but was happy nevertheless by Winona's decision.

Throughout September, Winona had made a conscious effort on her appearance and actions around Nolan. While they argued back and forth with witty remarks, she tried to be less harsh. Even though it made her sick to her stomach, she had congratulated him on his better test score in defence against the dark arts. During detention, she had used that time to think of further ideas on how to make advances toward the Ravenclaw. She had even gone as far as to ask Euphemia Macnair for flirting advice which turned out to be a primarily fruitless endeavour from the naturally shy Slytherin. Still, she had been able to provide some helpful books on swooning a man. Winona did as it said; she dropped her handkerchief several times in Nolan's presence and stole more not-so-secret glances. Over time, Nolan's responses softened and were more courteous than previously before.

Finally, Winona snuck off to the astronomy tower in early October at one in the morning. Her favourite place in all of Hogwarts is to observe the stars of Orion, Polaris and her favourite Vega. The tower had a strangely calming effect on Winona. It was a place to gather her thoughts with a quill and parchment, where she wrote her articles for the school newspaper. Still, tonight she would write something different, something she had read but never written. A love letter. The receiver would be Nolan Miller. If things go well and he falls for her, it would mean she has achieved the first part of her plan.

The quill scratched on the parchment. Winona carefully curved the letters and thought of the right words to say. It would be best to come across as a secret admirer, praise him and inflate his ego.

Dear Nolan,

I have a simple confession to make. I have been observing you since the Summer. You may not have realised, but anytime you walked past me, stolen a glance or even merely daydreaming about you, it made my heart leap like a frog hopping on a lily pad. You consume my thoughts day and night, and how I wish I could be nearer to you, of your brilliant mind and extensive knowledge. It took me a lot of courage to finally pour out these deep affections I hold for you. However, I believe a letter would not be enough to describe in every single way how I yearn for you and your affections. I would like to propose that we could arrange a meeting at the beech tree by the Great Lake on the morning of this Saturday. I must confess again that some of me are selfish, and I wish to see if you would reciprocate my sentiments. However, I would still die happy tomorrow if I am able to express to you in person even if you don't share my affections.

Of the deepest of my sincerities,

Your secret admirer

Winona looked out from the open window of the tower and aimed the folded letter shaped like a bird at the Ravenclaw tower. The letter swooped through an open window with a flick of the wand and a gust of wind. She prayed for it to be sent to the right window but wrote To Nolan clearly so it could be sent properly. If someone else found it, then at the very least, she hoped they were kind enough to give it to him. All she can do is wait for him tomorrow.

-oOo-

She was too nervous to the point of regret. Her stomach twisted and churned as time passed slowly. Winona paced up and down from the beech tree to the edges of the lake, allowing the tips of her recently shined boots to touch the body of water. She had contemplated multiple times if she should back down and pretend like it was a horrible joke gone wrong. Though despite the nerves, Winona was not one to easily back down, so she persevered. No, Glenn needed to suffer like he made her suffer by manually cleaning the Prefect bathroom for almost a month.

"Winona Rosewood?" She nearly jumped out of fright. The Gryffindor girl had not paid enough attention to her surroundings and noted the approaching figure. Nolan had arrived with her letter held in hand. "What are you doing here so early?"

She took a deep breath, masking her best shy face. "Well, I was waiting for you, Nolan."

Nolan's eyes squinted before widening as he came to a quick realisation.

"You are my secret admirer?!"

"I am embarrassed to admit it but...yes," Purposefully, she looked away. "It was a painful realisation as I once thought I detested you but only to uncover to my surprise that I actually do harbour tender affections for you."

"Well, this explains a lot. I was wondering why you had such a sudden change in heart towards me." His arms crossed but held on tightly to the letter. He didn't seem angry or upset with her, which was a good sign in her mind but he didn't seem as warm as she had liked.

"I know it must be a surprise to you but..." Winona continued on her best act. "Would you still be interested in courting me despite our past?"

There was a pregnant pause. Winona felt her blood pumping in her ears. Never had she been so nervous, not even during her tests, had she been so scared at this very moment. Nolan contemplated her offer, but some hope bloomed within her when she noticed his mischievous smile.

"Sure."

"Really?!" It came out more eagerly than anticipated as a faint smile widened. While the confession and acceptance weren't precisely what Winona had thought. Her only references were her Jane Austen novels and her half-brother, Colin telling her of his love declaration to Euphemia. It was certainly better than she had thought. "Well, we ought to arrange a meeting soon. To get to know each other better since we are courting now."

"How about tomorrow?" Nolan suggested. "We could take a walk around Hogsmeade."

"Sounds like a date then."

They walked back to Hogwarts castle together. They stuck to small chatter, but Winona couldn't help but keep her smile on. While the most challenging part of her plan to get back at Glenn was complete, it was time for the easiest part. She just needed the right person to spread some rumours at Hogwarts and she just knew the right one.

#back to school challenge 2022 #winona rosewood #glenn rosewood #nolan miller #sethel #victoria summer #euphemia macnair #hogwarts legacy #hphl ocs

[4awny]

Cartman finds out he has a mental illness

I think it’s a character-forming idea for Cartman, who is aware that something isn’t right with himself, but doesn’t quite understand it and is therefore in denial about it. For his friends, they’ve always known Cartman as a bit crazy, but not really realizing it themselves either. It’s a strong head canon of mine and ngl I enjoyed writing it lol

Enjoy this as a stand alone piece taken from my fic that’s probably way too long by now LOL

//

Cartman's eyes flashed away when Kenny mentioned that last part. His version of things were very different and so he took it personally. "Why are you making out like I'm some kind of unpredictable sociopath?"

The answer was obvious. "Because you are an unpredictable sociopath." Said Kenny.

"Unpredictable? Okay, I'll take that. That's actually a good quality to have, but a sociopath?" He strongly denied the accusation. "Do you even know what that is?"

Kenny had an idea, but he wasn't 100% certain on what all of the characteristics were. "Sure, let's take a look right now, shall we?" He fished through several pockets until he found his phone.

"This is so dumb." Kyle chimed in, but actually, was just pleased that he wasn't the one on the other end of the feud for a change.

"Is my.... friend... a socio...path... annd... enter." Kenny spoke slowly as he tapped furiously at the screen until he found what he was looking for. "Oh, look! Ten signs you may be dealing with a sociopath, perfect."

Cartman's eyes dulled to the side as he immediately lost interest. "Oh, boy. Go ahead, let's hear it."

"Okay, so what's the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath? A sociopath is blah blah blah... with limited empathy and yadda yadda yadda." His eyes darted across the screen, skipping over the unimportant bits of the article and finding the juicy parts to favour his argument. "Here we go, number one: Manipulative tendencies. Yup." He nodded, agreeing with the blog. "You're always lying and manipulating shit so that it works in your favour. Like how you somehow persuaded Dr Willis to change your grade on that chemistry paper? I don't even understand how you managed to do that? Like, that ain't normal behaviour."

The explanation was simple. "Being persuasive doesn't make me a sociopath."

"Persuasive?!" Kenny laughed at the word like it was an understatement. "No way, dude. That was straight up witchcraft. I forgot to bring in my homework once and she gave me a week's worth of detention. A week! And there's you asking her to change your grade? What did you do - blackmail her?"

"I didn't blackmail anyone." Cartman assured with a calm demeanour. "For some reason she likes me, so I took advantage. You guys seem to think I'd go to extreme lengths just to get my grade changed, when all I did was ask. She misunderstood one of my answers, so I got it changed and that determined whether I was an A grade student or not."

He looked as if he was telling the truth, but Kyle couldn't believe how it was possible for the brunette to get an A, seeing as it wasn't a subject that he particularly liked. Kyle did absolute garbage in that paper, only scraping a B himself, so in his head, it wasn't fair and therefore not credible. One would argue that Kyle wasn't prepared at all for that paper, considering he was in hospital.

Kenny couldn't believe it either. "There is no way you got an A in that."

"Well I fucking did? Nothing manipulative about it at all."

"But wait, didn't you just say for some reason she likes you and that you took advantage? Did he say that, Kyle? Because that sounds pretty manipulative to me. He said that, right?" He looked to Kyle for confirmation.

"You did say that, yeah." Kyle shrugged apologetically, but he wasn't apologetic at all. Regardless of Cartman's story, they both knew that getting that grade change was not as simple as asking.

"What you don't ask, you don't get. That's what my mom always taught me." Cartman concluded.

Kenny wasn't convinced and it was safe to say, neither was Kyle. "See? Right there, that's exactly what I'm talking about." Kenny pointed a finger at him and then moved onto the next one before he could get a response. "Number two: Easily angered or irritated." He scrolled down to read out the description. "Anger is one of the most easiest emotions for sociopaths and it's one that shows up frequently in their relationships, work and daily life. Er, easily angered? Yep, also easily irritated. Uh, prone to yelling or having aggressive outbursts when upset." He looked up from his phone to see that evil glare striking towards him. "Definitely not you, right?"

"Look, there's a difference between being an angry guy and having a short temper." He quipped back. He wasn't liking this personality analysis, nor did he agree with it.

"I totally agree. Someone like...? Like Kyle, for example. Now that's someone with a short temper." He gestured a hand at Kyle, but spoke about him as if he wasn't there. "But you? You're just an angry guy."

"Hey, I don't have a short temper." Kyle clarified.

Cartman needed to emphasise his point, but contradicted himself when his fist clenched into a ball. "And I'm not angry."

"Number three-" Said Kenny loudly, trying to move on as quickly as possible. They still had a lot of points to cover. "Devious or deceptive tendencies. Often caught telling lies, exaggerating, distorting facts and misrepresenting the truth in order to get what they want... okay, that is literally you all over. Like, no kidding."

Cartman was quick to retaliate. "I don't fucking lie and I don't goddamn exaggerate!" When he turned to look at Kyle for conformation, he was annoyed to see an unconvinced expression. "And what is that look supposed to mean?"

Kyle shrugged. "I mean... you do a little bit. A lot, actually."

"Shut up, no I don't?" It was now he, who was starting to raise his voice. "You guys just don't understand how to tell a good story. And another thing, don't you think this is completely retarded? Okay, so I might get a little angry sometimes, so what? Like, I just think differently. Does that make me smarter than you guys? Possibly, I don't know, I don't make the rules. But does it make me a fucking sociopath? No, of course it doesn't. Having a high IQ, like myself, does not equal to a mental illness, you fucking idiots." He slammed the laptop shut as he finished his argument. Most of it was exaggerated and Kenny wasn't sure if Cartman was being serious. The only thing he knew, was that Cartman was not liking this topic of conversation.

Despite that, Kenny was happy to continue. "Er... which leads me to my next point. Number four: Superficial charm and powers of persuasion." He looked over at Kyle for an answer this time.

"I mean, I can't exactly see charm?" His eyes met with Cartman's for a brief moment and he tore them away quickly. "But he is pretty persuasive. I hate to say it, but it's... yeah, it's true."

This somehow changed things, because Kyle just complimented him, at least he thought it was a compliment, and he wasn't entirely sure how to take that. "Uh, right? Like many great leaders are?"

"Hunger for power and dominance is number five, dude." Kenny blurted out. "Er, says here they have a tendency to be power hungry and may spend a lot of time and effort attaining positions where they can control, dominate, and have authority... over others." He stared at the screen and had flashbacks of Cartman's behaviour over the years. "Yeah, uhm? Sorry to break it to you, man? But you're a sociopath."

A fist slammed against the desk. "Shut your fucking mouth, Kenny!"

"Kenny, stop." Said Kyle, who thought their voices were getting far too loud and people were actually starting to turn around and give them dirty looks.

"But we're only halfway through?"

"Read the room." Kyle said quietly.

Kenny looked around to see other students turning their heads, including Craig and those guys. He turned back, pulled his hood up and buried his head into his phone. Cartman abruptly stood up and grabbed his jacket. He then marched away with an angry swag and left the library completely. Kenny looked as though he was thinking hard about something. He felt bad. He whipped his head round just as the brunette barged through the doors and thought about going after him.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Kyle assured, as if he had just read his thoughts. "He's leaving to calm down. He told me yesterday that he's not really angry at you anymore."

It didn't make sense. "Then why is he acting like that?"

"Because he's a stubborn asshole."

It made total sense. "Oh. Right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry for those waiting on the new chap, I am still working on it, but just finding life a bit hard rn lol. i’m aware that i’m going down a dark road and i’m trying to stop it before its too late for me. just a wave i gotta ride out, nothing to worry about :-) hope you understand x

#south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #Kyman

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies and her crew meet a new member.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

The Handsome Jackpot Part 3

“Alright, so, hear me out.”

The Vault Hunters, Timothy, and a hologram of Moxxi all stand around the table in their new hideout on the Handsome Jackpot. Skies paces back and forth in front them, explaining her plan.

“Pretty Boy has taken over the casino. Clearly, the people aren’t happy. They’re terrified of the loaders, the debts are all still active, and everything is run down. Therefore, Pretty Boy is a tyrant; and wherever there’s a tyrant, there are people looking to overthrow him. We just have to find those people.”

“I see, so we build an army,” Moze muses.

“Well, maybe not an army,” Skies clarifies, “I mean, the people may be unhappy, but most of them are definitely still loyal to Pretty Boy. We just need a select few who know how things are being run in here and aren’t afraid to fight back.”

“But where do we look? This place is massive and so far everyone we’ve met has immediately wanted to kill us,” Timothy points out.

“Story of my life,” Amara remarks.

“I think we should hit the Vice District first,” Skies replies, “the dancers there were pretty independent- I bet they’re not all Pretty Boy loyalists. I even recall one who wasn’t afraid to stand up to Jack. What was her name? She had a fire gimmick, something like...flames? Spark? Sparky? No, that’s dumb. Anyway, we should go there.”

“Very well,” Moxxi nods, “I’ll leave it to you, Skies. Keep me posted.”

Skies gives her a cheeky salute before the hologram disappears. “Right, shall we?”

“Ah, maybe Timothy should stay here where it’s safe?” Moze suggests, “don’t wanna risk Pretty Boy getting him.”

“No way, I’m not staying,” he argues, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m terrified. But the safest place in the galaxy right now is beside Skies.”

“Damn straight,” she agrees and flicks Timothy’s hair. “I won’t let anything happen to your pretty little head.”

With that, the crew leaves their hideout and head back onto the strip. Following Skies, they head down the right walkway, where they’re immediately accosted by loader bots.

“These things are really getting annoying,” Zane growls as they shoot their way through.

“How many does this guy have?” Amara asks.

“Knowing Jack, he probably has a whole army,” Skies replies.

The loader bots barely hold them back and they swiftly finish them off and head to the entrance of the Vice District. They pass through a doorway into a tunnel with a neon sign that reads ‘Adults Only’. Next to it a screen turns on, and Skies immediately rankles at Pretty Boy’s face.

“You- yeah, I’m talking to you deadbeats,” he says, “every one of those loader bots you’re destroying is being added to your debt. You’re really racking it up. But, we can still make a deal. Hand over the clone, and I’ll set ya up real nice. VIP treatment...”

As he rambles on, Skies starts to draw her rifle to destroy the screen again. But before she can, four other guns go off and blast it apart. She and Timothy look back at the Vault Hunters with surprise as they lower their weapons.

“He talks too much,” FL4K comments.

Skies smiles and motions to the button in the middle of the tunnel. “This is the hyperway. It’ll take us to the Vice District. Each car can only carry one person, so we’ll have to go one at a time. Just wait for the rest of us at the end.”

One by one, everyone pushes the button and gets carried by a digistructed car down the dimly lit tunnel. As they arrive, an automated Jack voice says, “Welcome to the Vice District, you broke degenerates.”

When they’re all together, they leave the hyperway into the entrance of the Vice District, lit up brightly by colourful neon signs. They don’t get very far before people start shooting at them.

“At least it’s not loader bots anymore,” Timothy remarks as they shoot back.

“Lot of gangs in this place,” Amara comments, “think they all work for Pretty Boy?”

“Probably,” Skies replies, “I’m betting people don’t have much of a choice but to follow him since he’s in the control tower.”

They continue down trash and gangster filled corridors and until they reach a stair case leading up to walkways lined by curtained windows.

“Here are the dancers,” Skies announces, “anyone can line up to watch them. Why don’t you guys go ask around and see if there is anyone willing to help us?”

The Vault Hunters nod and wander off. Skies and Timothy remain behind, leaning against the banister.

“You know, I uh...I lost my virginity here,” Skies says, “Jack bought me a dancer and, well, I couldn’t say no. Not just because it’s, you know, Jack but also...I mean, she had moves, dude. The things she did and said made even my robot parts melt. Scarlet...”

“I lost my virginity too because of Jack,” Timothy says, “not-not so directly but...after I got my surgery, I went to a bar for like a test run and hooked up with a girl. She definitely wasn’t someone who would’ve even noticed me with my old face. She made me briefly not regret getting the surgery. Briefly.”

They both sigh dreamily.

“Hey.” They look up at Zane’s voice as the Vault Hunters come back. “We’ve heard of someone who’s willing to help. But we gotta do something for her first.”

“Who is she?” Skies asks.

“Ember.”

“Ember, that was the fire girl!” she exclaims. “What’s she want?”

“We have to pick up a package for her and deliver it somewhere for Pretty Boy’s thugs,” Moze replies.

“A package? She’s giving them a present?” Timothy asks skeptically.

“From her tone, it sounded more like a threat than a gift,” Amara clarifies.

“Alright, well, let’s not keep her waiting,” Skies says.

They leave the dancers behind and head through the alleys of the Vice District until they find Ember’s package. Then they head to the outdoor baths, where they’re forced to fight off more mobsters. Fortunately, they’re little more than nuisances for the crew.

When the area is clear, Fl4K takes the package and plants it on top of a rock fixture, at the base of a statue of Pretty Boy. After everyone stands back, the package explodes, engulfing the statue in flames.

“I like this girl’s style already,” Skies grins.

“Shall we go meet her?” Zane asks.

“Lead the way.”

They leave the pools and head up to a large club area with a sign overhead reading ‘Foxxxi’s’.”

“Yikes, that’s gotta be some kind of trademark issue,” Skies remarks.

“Let’s not mention this to Moxxi,” Timothy warns.

They approach the stage at the far end of the club, illuminated by small, blue flames. It lights up even brighter as someone emerges from the back. She struts down the stage, snapping her fingers as bright orange flames burst up behind her. With a spin, she points to the sky with her robotic arm, her pointer finger alighting with its own small flame. Then she turns back to face her captivated audience with a smirk.

“Wow,” Skies and Timothy croak.

“Welcome, Vault Hunters,” Ember says with a french accent. “Thank you for sending off those thugs. Now, what has brought your spark to my stage?”

“You’ll want to talk to our boss,” Moze replies. She nods to Skies who is still too spellbound to notice.

“Oy,” Zane whispers, nudging her.

“Ah, r-right!” Skies exclaims, “uh, y-you are Ember, yes? I am Skies-.”

“Handsome Jacques’ old bodyguard,” Ember replies, “oui, I remember.”

Skies chuckles awkwardly. “R-right. Well, I’m not his bodyguard anymore. Cause you-you know, he’s dead. But I am here to liberate the casino from Jack’s old plight and Pretty Boy’s new one.”

“Really? Well, mon amie, if you speak the truth then our goals align,” Ember says, “Pretty Boy has ruined what semblance of happiness we had trapped in this casino after Jack died. He controls all the gangs and lords debt over the heads of all the poor people.”

“Exactly! He sucks right,” Skies agrees, “so help us take him down. You must know your way around this casino pretty well. We just need to break through Pretty Boy’s defences and the tower is as good as ours.”

“I see. But how will you liberate the casino? Without Jacques, we cannot turn off the lock down,” Ember points out.

“Not to worry, we have a secret weapon,” Skies replies and starts to motion to where she thought Timothy was standing beside her, but stops when she notices he’s no longer there. She glances around for a second before realizing he’s hiding behind FL4K and pulls him out. “Behold.”

“Heh, uh, hi...” he squeaks.

“Magnifique!” Ember cheers, “a clone of Jacques! I have not seen one in many years.”

Timothy freezes up as she approaches, almost in awe, and cups his face. “Look at you. Pauvre garçon. Consumed by handsome demons...a prisoner of a mask. What hope do you have with a face like that?”

“Um...Timothy...” he croaks dumbly.

Ember pats his cheek and lets him go. “Very well. I shall lend my fiery arts to your cause. However, I cannot help without my tools. They were on my ship, and she is missing. Pretty Boy’s doing. If you retrieve my tools, I will gladly lend a match to the kindling. First, you must locate my ship.”

“Skies?” Moze questions.

“Uh, I have no idea where it could be,” she admits, “but if we use an information kiosk, it should tell us. Your ship got a name?”

“She is called La Femme Brûlée,” Ember replies, “I hope she has not been destroyed.”

“Alright, there should be a kiosk nearby,” Skies says, “let’s see if we can find it.”

Ember waits at the stage as the crew head over to the nearby information kiosk. On the way, Timothy keeps caressing his cheeks. “Her hands were so warm and cold at the same time.”

“That’s what happens when you have a flesh hand and a metal hand,” Skies grunts.

They reach the kiosk and Skies says into it, “locate La Femme Brulee.”

“Ship identified,” an automated voice replies, “La Femme Brulee is located in the impound lot. Proceed to impound lot to pay fees.”

“The impound lot?” Ember exclaims from their ECHO devices. “Merde! Well, at least she can still be saved. The impound is a dangerous place, chérie. But what would our journeys be if we stayed where it was safe, non?”

As she pockets the claim ticket, Skies says, “the impound lot is one place I did not go. How do we get there?”

“You can take the subway,” Ember replies, “go, find my ship.”

“Okay, why don’t you guys go to the impound lot and find Ember’s ship,” Skies tells the Vault Hunters. “You’ll have to head back through the strip to the subway station and find the right track. Tim and I will escort Ember back to our hideout. I’m betting Pretty Boy won’t be happy when he finds out she’s working with us, so we better keep her safe.”

“You just want to be alone with her,” Zane grins slyly and Moze and Amara giggle. Fl4K doesn’t seem to understand the joke.

“Alright, get going, you lot,” Skies snaps, shooing them away. “Come on, Tim.”

They head back up to the stage and Ember looks at them expectantly.

“We got a hideout back in the strip,” Skies explains, “you should come with us. It’s safe there.”

“Ah, oui,” she agrees. “It’ll be nice to get away from Pretty Boy’s goons. Lead on.”

Skies and Timothy smile and lead Ember out of the club and through the Vice District. Unfortunately, the way back is no lesser safer than the way there and they are quickly swarmed by mobsters.

“Tch, Pretty Boy’s gangs,” Ember snarls.

“Don’t worry, Ember,” Skies says, “we got this.”

She and Timothy shoot their way forward, keeping any mobsters away from their escort. Unfortunately, one manages to slip by and dives for Ember. “Pretty Boy wants your head, backstabber!”

Ember doesn’t even flinch as flames flicker from her robotic fingers. But before the goon can reach her, Skies grabs him by the neck, the small blades from her fingers piercing his throat. She throws him onto the ground and smashes his skull with her bladed fist.

“Mon dieu!” Ember exclaims and clutches Skies’ arm. She immediately freezes. “How did I not notice this before? Such craftsmanship- trés beau. And so deadly.”

“Ah-uh, yeah, well, my engineer is responsible for that,” Skies says bashfully, mildly trying to pull her arm from Ember’s grip.

“Oui, but it is how you wear it and use it that makes it art,” Ember insists, gripping her tighter, her hands gently sliding higher up Skies’ arm. “After all, without us, our prosthetics would be mere hunks of metal. We are the true artistes, painting the canvas of our world with the blood of our enemies.”

All of the blades on Skies’ arm suddenly pop out, and she yanks it behind her back. “Ah, s-sorry! I swear that never happens. I-I didn’t cut you, did I?”

“Non, mon amie,” Ember smiles, “come, let us continue to your hideout.”

She continues ahead while Skies and Timothy lag behind, Skies caressing her right arm. “Her hands really are warm and cold.”

“I told you,” Timothy whispers.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands au #borderlands oc #myocs #myart

[seawherethesunsets]

Hii~

That sounded like a wonderful Wednesday. I was eagerly waiting for the new episodes to drop so I enjoyed them nice and fresh too.

Yess, finally the old boss is gone. It was a nice wrap up, too. I didn't expect such ending. But the ex-gf is not gone and I don't like smell coming from Sun Woo & Min Young. Just... let's not make it happen. Matching every possible single character with another one is common in books, too, and I'm bored.

Ohhh~ same here! My heart clenched seeing confused and upset Dongjin (and when he argued and avoided Woo Joo afterwards). He just acknowledged his crush for her and attempted to get closer (like texting SHALL WE MEET + calling to say WAIT LET'S LEAVE WORK TOGETHER) only to be avoided and treated harshly. (When she said she was sick of hearing Jigu's things, Dong Jin's heart wasn't the only one that got broken🥲) I'm glad he called her out for her confusing attitude.

Woo Joo's confusion wasn't annoying last week since everything was new and overwhelming to her. But this week I was like... girl? She said she's not crossing the line to Jun but kept keeping him (DJ) company. I enjoyed those moments but it felt like she was dropping her attitude too easily. At least, from now on she won't begin treating him coldly again because I assume it's time for secrets to come on the surface since Woo Joo's mom arrived Seoul. (gosh that preview was exciting!) She is not confused anymore but in pain. 🥲 Let's see how things will be figured out.

Haesung's pills... lol I was so dumb while watching that scene. I was like "oh, so it's her first time dumping someone" then she started saying that it's hard for her to be in crowded places...💀💀 That scene was nice. Opening up about your problems for the first time... the actress delivered it so well!

That smiling issue was so good, too! Pretending to smile for other's sake... She is not only told to stop that but also encouraged to do so!!

Okay I gotta go. I'll resume talking after the iftar. Ramadan mubarak to you, too!

Ohh you are also fasting! Ramadan mubarak to you!! Hope you had a good iftar :))

i knoww.... i feel like they're trying to hint something between sunwoo/minyeong but idk...must you really pair them up just because lol. As much as we know dongjin is over her and he's probably ok with it, it's still mehh.

That scene when he texted "shall we meet" and she responded "im tired". His disappointment, flopping on his bed to sleep thooooo😂😂 Yeah i'm glad he sounded her out.

That preview!!! 👀👀👀 urghh cant wait for next week! Literally THE show that keeps me motivated every week. I'm sad we only have 3 more weeks before finale T.T

Enjoy the weekends!

#ask #call it love #❤️❤️❤️

[minsyal]

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #re8 #re8 heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #resident evil heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 imagines

[thewritetofreespeech]

I LOVE ur blog SO MUCH!!!

Thanku fr Writing amazing hcs!! Keep it up!!!

If you don't mind...

(Kuroko no baske)

Thanku so much!! Lots of love xoxo

(reader insert may not be necessary!😉)

Awwww!! Thank you!! I’m glad you enjoy and appreciate them ( ´ω` ). Went a little off the rails with this as I was feeling inspired and did full scenarios. I hope that’s ok!

GOM Boys + Sending their kids to school (prompt)

Akashi

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” Akashi asked, holding his son’s hand, as they arrived at the building.

His son, looking positively adorable in his little blazer & tie, looked up at him with big, bright, golden eyes before looking back down. “I don’t want to go.” He repeated quietly. “It’s scary.”

“Scary? How is it scary?” Akashi asked. “You were fine when we did the tour the other day. It’s just like that.”

“But you won’t be with me Papa.” He replied in a soft voice. Worrying his bottom lip and eyes starting to get very wet. “I’ll be all alone.”

Akashi sighed as his son began to sniffle and knelt down in front of him. “Stop crying. Akashi men don’t cry over things like this.” He pulled out his handkerchief to clean the few tears that had fallen. His son giving a small hiccup as he stopped crying. Then Akashi smiled at him. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have a whole room of classmates to keep you company. I was like you when I was little. I was scared I wouldn’t make any friends, or that the other students would hate me. But that didn’t happen. I made friends. I got to spend time with people outside of the house. Uncle Kuroko and Mama were all people I met at school. Don’t you want to make friends like that?”

His son beamed and nodded once before looping his arms around Akashi’s neck to hug him. They then finish walking into school and dropping him off at class. He then walked back to his car alone. Sliding into the back seat when the driver opened the door for him.

“Shall we head to the office now sir?”

“In a minute,” Akashi replied. Leaning back in his seat to rest his head back against the rich leather. A hand over his eyes. “Circle the block a few times. I don’t want to leave them alone just yet.”

Aomine

“Hn? You don’t want to go to school now?” Aomine asked as son stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Digging his heels in about not wanting to take one step further. “But you have to go to school.”

“No I don’t! And you can’t make me!” The mini-Aomine yelled back. His father sighed.

“Yes, you do. It’s the law and, I would know, I’m a cop.” He pointed his thumb to himself, wearing his uniform, as this was supposed to be a quick drop off before he went in for his shift. “Do you want me to arrest you on your first day of school?”

“You wouldn’t do that!” The little boy replied. All bravado like his father, before his shoulders sank and his bottom lip stuck out. “I don’t want to go. School is boring. And what if the kids are mean to me. I’d rather stay home with Daddy….”

Aomine sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He couldn’t really argue with the school being boring part. He hated school when he was a kid, but he had to go. “Listen, Daddy can’t stay home with you today because he has to go to work. And you can’t come to work with me because, if you do, we’ll catch all the bad guys and then what will I do for work the next day.” The mini-Aomine snickered.

Aomine then leaned down to get eye level with his son. “I’m sure the kids will be nice. There’s bound to be one good egg in the bunch. Maybe you can even find someone to play basketball with.” His son’s eyes sparkled at that. “But, if any kids are mean to you, you tell me and I’ll come back and arrest them.” He held out his handcuffs to make a point. “Sound good?”

His son giggled again and told him, “deal!” before they both walk into the school for drop off. Thankfully, no one at the school was arrested that day. School was his son’s new favorite place. At least for now anyway.

Kise

“Are you sure they have to go now? Maybe we could keep them home for another year??”

“Ryo….” His significant other warned as they got their daughter up to the school, each holding one of her hands, for drop off.

“Don’t worry Daddy! I’ll be fine!” The little girl chirped. Practically skipping the whole way there she was so excited.

“Really? Are you sure princess? Because, if you want to start school tomorrow, Daddy would be totally fine with that.”

“Ryouta!”

“No, that’s ok Daddy.” She replied with a big grin. “I want to go and make new friends! I’m excited to show everyone my new dress you got me.” His princess did a little modeling twirl they had practiced, and Kise’s heart broke into a thousand pieces only to be reformed instantly again with love. “I’m gonna go inside now. See you after school!”

“Do you want Daddy to walk you to your classroom?!”

“No!” His daughter called back. Unaware she had just stomped on her father’s newly reformed heart.

“They grow up so fast….”

“Honestly Ryouta.” His s/o said, shaking their head, as they offered him a tissue. “It’s the kids that are usually crying on the first day. Not the parents.”

Kuroko

“Sweetheart….you have to go to school.” Kuroko tried to reason with his daughter, who was holding her backpack and her breath until Kuroko ‘gave up’.

Of course, she couldn’t hold it that long in the end. Her lungs were very small.

She let out a gasp of air, quickly inhaling new breath into her lungs as fast as she could fill them, but still pouted. “Why can’t you be my teacher Papa?!”

“Because,” Kuroko reasoned, as if they haven’t been over this a hundred times, “you need to have someone else be your teacher. It’s not fair to have Papa be your teacher.”

“But it’s not fair that other kids have Papa for their teacher!” She argued back. “I don’t want to go if I can’t see Papa and have to share him….”

Kuroko sighed before offering them a smile. “We’ll still be at the same school. So I’ll see you at lunch time or on the playground. Ms. Himora is really nice too. You’ll like being in her class. I’ve told her all about you and she’s excited to see your drawings.”

His daughter perked up at that. Art and drawing being one of her passions.

She agreed to go, but only on the condition that she wanted to see this other teacher’s art supplies. Ms. Himora of course showed them to her, and let her color the whole afternoon. Kuroko tried not to seem irritated that by the end of the day his little girl was calling her her favorite teacher.

Midorima

“Do you have your notebook?” Midorima asked as he walked his son to school. “Pens? Paper? Pencil?”

“Yes Dad…” His son replied sullenly, walking beside the taller green haired man as they come up to the school. When he saw the brick building, however, he tightened the hold on his hand.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Dad I….I don’t want to go to school.” Midorima gave a surprised ‘hn?’ in response, but his son just looked down. Fidgeting with his glasses. “What if….what if the teacher is scary? What if the other kids don’t like me? What if no one wants to play with me?” The young boy began to spiral and sniffling, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

His father sighed and knelt down in front of him. “What do we always say?”

“Man proposes, God disposes.”

“Right.” Midorima replied. Not seeming phased by how his life’s motto sound so much less intimidating coming from such a cute, small voice. “We have to do our best to make sure things work out. We can’t worry about what could go wrong. That’s God’s job. We focus on the now.” He pulled a key chain out of his pocket and handed it to his son. “Take today’s lucky item with you. It’ll keep you safe.”

“But Dad! What about you?!”

“I’ll be alright. You just make sure you get to class on time and have a good day.”

His son came home later that afternoon to tell him all about the amazing day he had at his new school. His teacher was nice. His classmates really liked him. They even served his favorite in the cafeteria!

Midorima was happy for his son, and choose not to tell him that he had had the day from hell without his lucky item. From that day forward they each got their own.

Murasakibara

“Eh…? You don’t want to go to school?” Murasakibara looked at his daughter as she shook her head. Scuffing her new shoes on the sidewalk. “How come? You have to give me a good reason to skip your first day.”

“I…I don’t want to go…” She replied softly. His little girl incredibly shy. “What if the other kids make fun of me?” Murasakibara hummed a little. He supposed that was a good reason.

For better or worse, his children had inherited his height. It wasn’t so bad for her older brothers. Being tall was an admirable attribute for boys. For girls though…..well….it just made his angel that much bigger of a target.

“If the kids make fun of you, tell them your dad is even taller and he’ll stick them in a tree and leave them there if they make fun of you.” The little girl giggled, clearly picturing the image, but still didn’t seem convinced to go. Murasakibara knelt down so he wasn’t towering so much over her and patted her head. “School is important. You need to go so you can be smart like you Mom. Not a dumb dumb like your Dad.” He smoothed out her hair from ruffling it. It had taken them a while to get it right, and he didn’t want to ruin it. “But, I’ll be here when you get out today and we’ll go get ice cream as a reward. Our secret.”

His daughter beamed at the promise of ice cream and nodded eagerly. She then went off to school without any complaints. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You could get him to do anything for ice cream too.

#hkbs-world #;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket imagines #knb imagines #knb scenarios #aomine daiki #knb aomine #knb aomine daiki #seijuro akashi #knb akashi #kise ryouta #knb kise #kuroko tetsuya #knb kuroko #midorima shintarou #knb midorima #murasakibara atsushi #knb murasakibara #imagine #scenarios

[magickastiel]

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

_

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

_

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

_

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

_

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

_

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

_

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Chilling in Yiling

We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous.  

He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu. 

Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.

Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.

Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.

(more after the cut)

This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesn’t deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does. 

Dream a Little Dream of Me

While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface.  The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.

He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites. 

A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.

Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma. 

His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.

This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked.  Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.

Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"

Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.

The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it. 

Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it. 

He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.

Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.

It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.

In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there. 

Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother.  This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about what’s really happening to be confused, but not surprised.

Do the Whumpty Whump

After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified) 

Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman. 

He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.

Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.

Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights.  He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjing’s physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines. 

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part. 

They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.

Wen Chao thinks that he can’t haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.

This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats. 

Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about.  He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him. 

Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages. 

She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.

Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch.  Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.

Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxian’s.  This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.

He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.

While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.

Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.

They Say That Every Man Must Fall

Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.

I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released

You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly.  

I’ve Been Dead Once

We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.

I hang around dying to be tortured  You'll never be alone in the bone orchard

The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.

For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.

He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets.  All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.

The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge. 

He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)

The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man. 

Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello  

Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost. 

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #wei wuxian #burial mounds #jiang cheng

[beomglocks]

what beomgyu is like as a boyfriend

warnings & other: no warnings, its just that i wrote this at like 4am, very on brand for me i know, it’s unnecessarily long and i think i just went on a tangent about how beomgyu is the ideal boyfriend

w/c: 1k if we’re rounding

let’s have a look at what our choi beomgyu is like a boyfriend, shall we?

how could anyone think beomgyu is cold

yeah maybe when you first meet him he’s all like

(T_T)

you seriously think he hates you or something or that he’s super uninterested

i mean but even then he can’t keep up the facade, he tries to be polite and you know he’s smiley 

but after you really get to know him it’s like

“my god help me”

he’s an extrovert and an 01′ liner its in his blood (rip me who’s introvert and 01′)

you’re either super alike or super different than him

no in between

but i think he lowkey vibes with people who are opposite from him

it’s a good balance

if you’re naturally calm boom he’s hooked

because he can annoy you and knows you won’t get heated too easily

if you’re alike then expect arguments

not too many serious arguments but arguments over which meat to eat for instance

to be honest i can’t see beomgyu actually arguing with anyone but man

if you’re like him i’m telling you right now

prepare for trouble make it double

he sticks his tongue out at you

you do it back

him: “don’t you think you’re being too mean” (￣ε ￣)

clowns you

literally clowns you for everything you do

this dude won’t let you live

trying to learn his part in a dance?

him: “you look so silly lol”

*bursts out in laughter*

also him: “if you wanted me to teach you you could’ve just asked”

calls you a fucking idiot

for anything...literally any little slip up

he better not catch you slipping

ok maybe not a fucking idiot but its pretty close

not in a “im fed up with you” way

its more like a “you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot” way

and likewise

but don’t take it to heart

that’s his way of flirting

phrases include (but not limited to):

“you’re so dumb you’re lucky i like you”

“you’re so stupid but that’s your charm and i love you for it”

“fool”

WAIT,, he doesnt mean it in a condesending way, he thinks you’re actually very smart (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

ok but

hoodie season?

don’t even try it

you know how he looks so cuddly in his sweaters

those are literally his safe haven

don’t try to take them

him: “isn’t that my sweater?”

him: “THAT WAS MY FAVORITE ONE” ╰（‵□′）╯

(the grey one)

plays guitar for you

like yeah

shocker

he can actually get really soft

he’s not a complete meanie

super cuddly

rests his head on you at random times

because the boy sleepy

he work hard he sleep o(一︿一+)o

on his off days you have to console him

words of assurance will do!

“cheer up gyu! you did great today!”

“hey dont forget im always here when you need me”

when he’s down and you’re trying to cheer him up he seems like the type to laugh at your attempts rather than the actual thing idk

you have to compliment him

him: “i look good right”

you: “no”

“Shut up”

“you shut up”

him: “just admit you like me so much” 〒▽〒

super playful relationship

but super chill at the same time

like yeah it’s fun and games

but when it comes down to it

he’s someone who can trust in with your secrets and hardships

like maybe he’s experienced what you’re going through and can give you tips

you guys just help each other out all the time it’s honestly wholesome asf

your friends think you hate each other

oh no sweetie we just seem like it but we’re super tight knit

skinship

skinship

dude won’t leave you alone

and likewise

he’s gotta be touching you in someway for comfort

or just to annoy you

if you have thick thighs, good luck charlie

rests his head on them

squeezes them but not in any kind of sexual way

you: “stop”

him: *sighs* “but i like them” /_ \

falls asleep on you a lot

wants you to run your hands through his hair

he’s out like a light after that

his hair

just run your hands through his hair

careful though because when he’s cranky he doesn’t really want you to touch him

but he gets free passes to touch you

*im mad so don’t touch me but let me back hug you while you do everyday mundane things*

best hugs

BEST HUGS

introducing you to the members good god help him

him: “so this is my significant other”

txt: “wait you have a partner????”

just to tease him you go along with it

you: “hahah yeah i know right”

gets mad at you but like not for real

he can take jokes

smacks your arm playfully

him: “i hate you i knew this was a bad idea”

you: “nah you really like me”

him: “you like me mo-”

txt: *gagging noises*

random kisses

he be kissing you at random times

fuck having 10 reasons to kiss you

he’s got 1 million!

not the jealous type

he’s territorial but not crazy jealous

won’t step out of line but will remind the person involved that you’re his if he has to

i think he just knows you wont ever cheat on him so he trusts you but he doesn’t trust everyone else

you might be insecure because you know it’s beomgyu we’re talking about

but don’t worry he’s only yours, he’s always showing you that

uses his satoori on you when he wants something

him: you think this looks good on me?”

you: “it looks terrible”

him: “im definitely wearing it now”

pesters you afterwards because he can

you guys just love each other so much it’s actually gross

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[artist-issues]

@snowybookworm

I’ve seen the logic behind both schools of thought: that Old Steve could only have sat back and allowed events like Bucky’s torture to unfold (thereby being super out of character) OR that he created an alternate timeline where he stayed in character by solving all sorts of problems while living out his happily ever after. And I’m not going to go into that, I’m not going to swing one way or the other. But suffice to say, I don’t think that the portrayal of time travel rules in Endgame supports the idea that Old Steve could only return to prime 2023 via the same portal he left from, because if that were true, how do you explain the Avengers’ big push to get the Infinity Gauntlet into Scott’s van in the final battle? If the only way they could be returned to the timeline they were snatched from was with the same portal, tossing them into the van, a DIFFERENT portal, would’ve been reality-suicide for our heroes.

But I’m not here to argue about what Steve Rogers did when we DIDN’T get to watch his actions. I’m here to argue about what we DO know for sure based on what we WERE given to watch. I’m here to prove that if you think it’s not like Steve Rogers to leave Bucky in the present to live his days out with Peggy, you’ve missed his whole character arc. You’re one of those people who doesn’t see that he HAS a character arc. Captain America has DEPTH. He has LAYERS to who he is. It’s not just “do the right thing,” as close as that may sound to the truth.

He is not the same exact guy Bucky had to lead out of back-alley fights in the 40s. He might have all of the same excellent qualities that we know and love, the BEST qualities, but we’re not at the same point in his story. He’s learned and he’s grown and Peggy Carter is symbolic of him moving on.

Now, that may sound oxymoronic to you, “because he literALLY TIME TRAVELED TO THE PAST to be with the lady he missed out on! HOW IS THAT MOVING ON?!” you ask. Because you’re missing it. Let’s rewind and look at Steve Rogers and his character development, shall we?

In Captain America: The First Avenger, Steve Rogers goes from a guy with everything to prove, who is so willing to take on the world and all it’s evil that it doesn’t matter if he’s 90lbs of asthmatic shortness, he’ll fight bullies and stand up for what’s right! And he’ll do it ALONE if he has to! That’s important, the word “alone.” He’s so committed to that identity that Bucky Barnes, his best friend and brother figure, keeps having to remind Steve that through all of life’s challenges, he’s not alone, that he’s got someone with him “til’ the end of the line.” And Steve believes it: Bucky will be there for him when he needs dragging out of the gutter and cleaning up, when he has nobody else and nothing else. But Steve knows, or thinks he knows, (AND YOU AND I DO TOO, if we pay attention to the actual movie instead of our fill-in-the-blanks headcanons) that however LOYAL AND TRUE Bucky is to him, he doesn’t believe Steve can win. Bucky doesn’t believe in Steve. Now hold your offense: it’s okay that Bucky didn’t believe in Steve. Have you seen Skinny Steve? He’s an amazing moral giant, but physically he’s not going to live past middle-aged. Bucky believed Skinny Steve was righteous, and a hero, and would never give up, but Bucky was resigned to having to help that righteous hero or watch him die eventually because all that gold was locked up in the wrong-sized package. Sebastian Stan has hinted at what the films portray subtly; that Bucky’s is more cynical than his friend Steve from the get-go. He’s always poised and worried that he’s about to watch his hero Steve get killed standing up to the darkness of the world—not WIN against it. Bucky was ready to help Steve out of fights, but—and here’s BUCKY’S character development in that first film—he’s not ready to follow Steve into fights until after Azzano, when Steve finally has the physical capabilities to back up what Bucky has always known was there on the inside: the will to fight the darkness of the world and win. That’s when he realizes, “he’s the little guy from Brooklyn, too dumb to run away from a fight—and now someone’s actually gone and juiced him up with the means to literally take on the jaws of death.” All that heroism and goodness Bucky’s always seen in Steve has gone from being what might get him killed to something that Steve can actually use to do the right thing, however dangerous. And Bucky chooses to keep his promise and follow Steve back into battle after enduring torture, because he is with him til the end of the line. But initially, cynical yet loyal Bucky Barnes didn’t believe his best friend could win.

Steve sees this about Bucky. He knows how Bucky sees him. In the Erskine Enlistment Scene, this line from Steve is so telling: “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this...” and Bucky responds after Steve’s ‘men-laying-down-their-lives’ speech with “right...cause you got nothing to prove.” sarcastically. Steve knows that Bucky loves him and is there for him, but he sees that Bucky doesn’t believe in him. And they’re still friends. They’re still brothers and everything we know them to be, because the word that defines their relationship is “LOYAL.” But you know who did believe in Steve?

Peggy Carter.

She takes notice of Steve’s heart of gold while he’s still skinny, and asthmatic, and everything that Bucky has seen since they were kids. But where Bucky sees a heart of gold about to be snuffed out by harsh circumstances, PEGGY sees something else. She sees something else because she has a similar hopeful outlook on life, a kindred spirit with Steve’s forever-the-fighter character. Peggy Carter, a woman in the 40s, has had to fight and fight and take one step forward for every three steps she’s been pushed back. She’s had to prove herself over and over, every moment of her career, when nobody (except her brother Michael) believed in her. That’s their conversation in the cab. That’s the crux of why they love each other. Peggy has always noticed Steve as never giving up, but until he talks to her in the car on the way to get Super Soldiered, she might have assumed that he was just trying to prove himself for HIMSELF. Then he explains that he doesn’t have anything against running away, and his philosophy about bullies. And she relates to him. She sees that heart of gold and she wants to STOKE it, not just protect it. She knows what it is to want someone to not only acknowledge her potential, but BELIEVE in it. That’s why she has a picture of Skinny Steve on her desk and not a newspaper clipping of Captain America; she loves Steve Rogers for what is inside, for his moral character, and for their kindred fighter spirits. You can see that through her urging him to not settle for being a dancing monkey. “You were meant for more than this, you know.” “If it could only work once, he would be glad it was you.”

And Steve Rogers recognizes that Peggy Carter believes in him. Here’s how. When Bucky and Steve argue at the World Fair before Bucky’s deployment, Bucky leaves with a sort of “I give up,” so-done, snarky “don’t do anything stupid until I get back” attitude. We know and love it. But that’s important. Steve is about to go lie on his enlistment and try to go to war. He’s about to do this risky thing. And Bucky leaves it like “even though I’m against it, I know I can’t stop you, so please just be careful.” When Peggy is faced with a more extreme, but still similar situation where Steve is about to jump headfirst into a risky thing, that’s not her attitude. “I can do more than that.” “Get back here! We’re taking you ALL the way in!” She’s not going to follow him, and she’s not going to shrug and say “fine, go get yourself killed.” She’s not even going to say, like Bucky might’ve, “if you’re dying, I’m dying with you.” JEEZ, the last thing she says to him before he gets on a plane that becomes his tomb is “GO GET ‘IM.” When he says to her “this is my choice” before he ‘dies’ she accepts it, but she still makes that appointment for the dance- almost like a sad, sweet little ‘if you can get out of this, I’ll still be waiting.’ But whenever he goes into danger, throughout that film, she’s going to HELP him. Because she believes in him. She really believes he can do this. She has faith. That’s the word that describes Peggy and Steve’s relationship. “FAITH.”

Bucky = Loyalty.

Peggy = Faith.

And how does Steve grow in this movie? He learned from both Bucky and Peggy: “I don’t have to fight alone.”  Whether it’s because he’s scrawny and everybody else would run away from a fight they can’t win, or because he’s an icon and the world’s first super-soldier-miracle, he’s always had this loneliness complex. He lifts the weight of the world because he knows that if you can, you should. But Peggy says to him “you won’t be alone.” It’s a quote important enough for him to experience it in a flashback the first time we see him in The Avengers.

In The Avengers, Steve has to share the spotlight with a whole other cast of heroes, PLUS the writers had to show us what it would be like for a 1940s superhero to lose 70 years of time and wake up with nobody left of his old life, so his growth is smaller. It’s setting up for more growth later. But still, there’s that quote. “You won’t be alone.” And now here he is. Alone. In the 21st century. Worse than a skinny kid nobody believes in, now he’s a cultural phenomenon in a world where everyone looks up to him but nobody believes in him, really, not directly. Whether it’s how well he can stand up against gods and iron men, what makes him special, or why cops should listen to him in the heat of interplanetary battle—in this bold new world he’s woken up in, Steve is on a lonelier pedestal than ever. He’s quickly disillusioned with the government that used to give him order and structure when it loses the Tesseract, which it was making weapons of mass destruction out of, then tries to nuke an island full of innocent people to win one battle. But Steve finally realizes, toward the end of the film, that just because SHIELD and the larger world are new and different and don’t know who he really is, that doesn’t mean he’s alone. When the other Avengers join him in going to take on Loki in their own way, and when Tony, in particular, proves that he’ll sacrifice himself for the greater good, Steve remembers his lesson from Peggy. He’s still not alone.

But being surrounded by other misfits, even ones who are willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good like he is, isn’t the same as being surrounded by people who know Steve Rogers, the punch-drunk kid from Brooklyn. He’s looking for purpose at the end of the Avengers. What do we see the other characters doing? Thor’s off to deal with the family drama that defines a lot of his character arcs in his movies. Tony is seen embracing the whole “work with others” thing by starting construction on Avengers Tower. Bruce is going with Tony, proving that he’s learning to trust himself with the Hulk like Tony suggested, and Nat hands him the bag, meaning she trusts him too. Clint is reunited with her and getting in a car with the SHIELD logo stamped on it, and where is Steve? What’s his foreshadowing/cap to the movie character arc? Is he getting in the SHIELD car, too? No. He’s on a motorcycle. Alone. Driving off to Lord-knows-where. He’s the only Avenger that drives off alone—but before he went, he shook Tony’s hand. That send-off says he’s willing to be on this team, with these other fighters and misfits...but he’s still lonely. Nobody really knows him yet. He’s not alone in fighting, but he doesn’t know what he wants or where he’s going.

In Captain America: The Winter Soldier Steve’s character development is centered around solidifying what parts of him need to change now that he’s “The Man Out of Time” and what parts of him stay true. The whole film is about trust. And yes, that trust is best driven him when Steve is literally willing to die rather than give up on Bucky, the man literally beating him to death. Because loyalty. But don’t miss the scene with Peggy, however brief. Their conversation has nuances, especially in light of Endgame. There’s a lot going on in the scene that shows how in love he is with her, but the part that’s most important is just his reaction when she relapses and realizes that he’s alive all over again. The last thing Old Peggy says is “it’s been so long.” And she repeats it, for emphasis. And he points out the dance. Because remember, there’s this theme that she would have waited for him. That’s their relationship: faith. But she didn’t know he was alive, and how could she? It’s been so long. She’s not smiling. She’s crying when she realizes he’s still alive. Because they missed all that time they would have had together. And his face is the perfect micro expression of grief. To me, it doesn’t read “I’m so sad because I missed out on Peggy,” though I’m sure there’s some of that in there. To me it reads more like Steve always reads because he thinks of others first: “I’m so sad because Peggy had to mourn me and our relationship for so long.” I mean, look, it’s 70 years later and she’s devastated that he’s alive but they weren’t together. (You can be devastated about your lost love AND accepting of your life and other children without him, it doesn’t have to be one or the other, but more on that another time.) Steve never moves on from Peggy because that’s not the kind of guy he is. It’s not nothing to say she was the love of his life. And he wanted to go back to her not just for himself, but for her. Because he’d seen the future where she was still heartbroken that he missed their dance, and I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s literally RIGHT THERE in probably the best-written Marvel Film, Winter Soldier.

In a film that’s all about how what he thought was good and right is literally crumbling or growing Hydra tentacles around him, there are two things he doesn’t let go of. The first is Bucky. Bucky is an assassin now who any other hero would have put down. Heck, STEVE would have mournfully put down any other threat to the greater good, for the sake of Doing What’s Right. But there’s two (2) exceptions to that rule, and the first is Bucky. Loyalty. He won’t kill or even fight his best friend. And the second thing he won’t let go of, thematically, is Peggy. It’s how we go from “I’m alone in the future” in the Avengers to, “and if I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.” Peggy founded SHIELD. Steve didn’t have to take time out of the very carefully synchronized and tense mission to stop Project: Insight to make that announcement. He could have assumed everyone was HYDRA and got to work. But he stopped, he made a FAITH-BASED decision to let HYDRA know they were there and shoutout to any good people in the building because the movie was about trust. And Peggy showed Steve how to have faith and trust in people because she extended it to him. He puts so many eggs in the Big Risk basket during this movie based on trusting others even though Nick Fury’s crucial words were “Don’t Trust Anyone.” That’s the part of Steve that won’t get corroded away by the new world he’s come out of the ice into. And he shows it by loyalty to Bucky, brainwashed warts and all, and belief in people, which Peggy taught him. There’s a lot that could also be said about Sam and Natasha, too, but more on them later.

The main thing, in CA:TWS and Avengers, to remember about Steve’s character arc is that while he’s learning to hold on to IDEALS like belief in people and defending freedom and innocent people from bullies like HYDRA and Loki, how does he express those ideals? The only way he knows how. By fighting. By finding a mission to complete or a cause to serve and going for it. How else? He doesn’t know how to do anything else. “I guess I just like to know who I’m fighting.” Sam asks, “You thinking about getting out?” And hid knee-jerk reaction is “no.” Then, “I don’t know.” AND WHY DOESN’T HE KNOW? Because he doesn’t know what makes him happy. Seriously! What makes him happy?? People who know him. He won’t go on a date because he has “no shared life experience”. He has no fun plans Saturday because his “barbershop quartet are dead.” Hes straight up politely walking away, kind-celebrity-style, from a potential new friend in Sam until Sam starts talking about being a veteran. He tries to relate to others through fights because that seems to be the only thing left. People see Steve as Captain America, leader of the Avengers, Fighter for Freedom, in the future. Nobody sees the kid from Brooklyn anymore. And he doesn’t know who he is without a war.

Bringing us to Avengers: Age of Ultron. This one’s character development is so obvious it feels like they’re beating you over the head with it Hulk-style if you just take half a second to focus on Steve’s scenes. It starts with how he views the Maximoff twins—he can relate to their lab-rats-of-justice ideals, but nobody else shares that sympathy, as seen in the conversation with Maria Hill by the elevator. Then there’s the scene at the party. No, not the one where he reminds Bruce that he waited too long for Peggy, although HELLO HE’S STILL IN LOVE WITH PEGGY. But I’m talking about Steve and Sam’s conversation. Sam mentions home. In the middle of a party, Steve is asking about Bucky, his one remaining person who knows him, and reminiscing about Peggy, the other person who knew him. Home is in the people who know you. Steve wants that to be the Avengers. He wants them to be the people who get who he is, and I think they come close. Nat, Sam, and Tony especially. But Tony never separates who Steve is from this idea of him handed down from Howard Stark, and Steve is made aware of that over and over. Plus Tony doesn’t trust Steve; the team keeps clashing over trust issues in this film. And Tony even says, in the pivotal argument with Steve over the lumber pile, “isn’t this why we fight? So we can END the fight? So we can go HOME?” Steve can’t go home because Steve feels he has no home. He’s made The Fight his home. And he defaults right back to it in this argument: “every time someone tries to stop a war before it starts, innocent people die.” So, again, he’s not ALONE anymore, in the sense that others will fight with him. But he’s still stuck on FIGHTING. And nobody really knows him. At the end of the film he says, almost reluctantly, “I’m home” and proceeds to go in and try to train new Avengers. Sam comes flying in among them—that’s a subtle reason why Steve is willing to make the Avengers/the Fight his new home. The one guy who might actually know him and represent who he is when he’s not behind the shield is missing, and Sam was supposed to be looking for him. Sam is with the Avengers, NOT looking for him.

But all of that is wrecked in Captain America: Civil War. Peggy, the love of his life, dies. Bucky, the friend he’d all but given up on finding, reappears and is in trouble. Without Peggy, there’s only one person left who knows who Steve really is, and with all that Bucky means to him, Steve isn’t going to give him up. It just so happens that that goal of remaining loyal to Bucky is synonymous with hanging on to his ideals: combatting the Sokovia Accords with a little moral kick in the seat from posthumous Peggy. I’m not going to go into why his actions about the Accords were in-character in this film. But it should be obvious from everything I’ve written, anyway. And remember, his faith is in people. Peggy taught him that, as we’ve established.

The main point of character development in this film for Steve is that he’s realized that he can’t give up who Steve Rogers is to be who everyone thinks Captain America is. When the rest of the world says that the Avengers should be little better than Government weapons and operate out of fear, Steve remembers that he’s the kid from Brooklyn who will fight for what’s right, shield or no shield. And Bucky symbolizes that aspect of who he really is, because Bucky knows him in a way that no remaining living character does. So when Steve is fighting Tony to keep Bucky safe, it’s not devoid of their conflict over ideals, either. Stave drops the shield but promises to still be there for Tony if he needs him. He’s not going to be everyone’s Captain America. He’s going to stay the good man Erskine gave a chance to, the good man Peggy believed in, and the good man only Bucky is alive to remember.

Now we get to Infinity War. And here there’s so much going on with so many characters that for Steve, it’s just important to realize that, although he’s finally hit a rhythm in this post-ice life as Steve Rogers, Fighter from Brooklyn, HOW is he hitting that rhythm? Settling down in Wakanda to hang with Bucky and the goats? Leaving the justice and peacekeeping to Tony Stark and the law-abiding heroes? No. He’s still fighting. And not just in response to Thanos—we’re shown hints and evidences that Cap and his Secret Avengers have been doing some behind-the-scenes peacekeeping. So why isn’t Steve finding peace with Bucky? Ask yourself that. He had time. He had anonymity, in Wakanda. He’d given up the Captain America mantle. They could’ve been roomies in that little hut, like when they were kids, right?

Wrong. But why?

It’s not because the Russos didn’t think of it. It’s not because of lazy writing. It’s because of Bucky.

Bucky is still Steve’s friend and Steve is still loyal to him. They don’t mean any less to each other than they did in 1945. But Bucky is not Bucky anymore. If you believe that Sebastian Stan did a good job playing Bucky, you have to remember that Sebastian Stan played him as if he would “never go back to being that guy you see in The First Avenger.” Bucky has evolved. He’s part Winter Soldier, now. Does he still know Steve better than anyone? Yes. But that is corrupted by the fact that Bucky was programmed to see Steve, the country Steve represented, and all of Steve’s ideals of freedom as targets to be destroyed for 90 years. That changes things. Steve is always going to do what is best for Bucky, because that’s the kind of friend he is. It was the kind of friend he was in 1945 when he rescued Bucky from Azzano, it’s the kind of friend he was when he wouldn’t fight him aboard Project: Insight, it’s the kind of friend he was when he gave up the Avengers and the shield for Bucky...and it’s the kind of friend he was when he left Bucky in the present.

In Avengers: Endgame Steve Rogers has experienced what it’s like to fight and lose again. He’s lost everything. He’s lost Peggy, and now Bucky, too. He’s lost everything and everyone that ever symbolized home...except, perhaps, Natasha. His friend who knows what it’s like to give up everything for ideals and fight to prove yourself. His friend who can’t stop fighting, either. But he loses her, too. Before he does, though, what does Steve say? In that first conversation before everything sets into motion? He says that maybe the fight doesn’t need to be fought by them. He says they need to get a life. But Nat says “you first.”

Who knows him the closest at this point? Nat. So who’s the best-qualified to point out where he’s at, character-development-wise? Nat. He sees his flaw. Steve Rogers sees that he can’t figure out who he is, without someone who knows him helping him. He sees that he defaults to finding a cause, a mission, a fight. Heck, the posters of him say “one last mission.” Not “one last sacrifice (of everything for Bucky).” One last MISSION, because that’s the only thing Steve knows how to do when he has nothing else.

“But he DID have something else! He had BUCKY! And his new family with the Avengers!”

Now we get to the part people don’t understand. They think, “how could Steve just leave everybody, especially Bucky, to fend for themselves?”

You didn’t see all that character development, especially in the first film where the differences between what Bucky means to Steve and what Peggy means to Steve are established.

Bucky is not the streetsmart protective charming brother figure he was in TFA. But listen. He’s not the broken Winter Soldier anymore either. Not in a way that needs Steve’s help. He’s not on the run. He’s got his memory back. He’s pardoned. He’s got Sam. Don’t you see, Bucky’s biggest problem is Steve’s, at this point? They MIRROR each other. Steve can’t figure out who he is if he isn’t fighting for everyone else because he’s been fighting for so long. And Bucky can’t figure out who he is with his friend, his brother figure, doing that and him. Because if Steve is fighting, Bucky will always be there to have his back. But fighting isn’t what Bucky needed anymore. It’s not what he wanted. Fighting is what Bucky is tired of.

And Steve Rogers can’t not be where the fight is.

Because without a fight, who is he?

Peggy Carter knows.

Steve Rogers left Bucky because Bucky needed him to leave. They needed to be friends from afar. And Steve left Bucky because Peggy Carter was home. Being with the woman who knew who he really was, as Steve “Kid From Brooklyn” Rogers, was the right move for his character because it shows that he’s finally ready to stop fighting. Stop being Captain America, lonely hero, man out of time. He’s ready to go and figure out who he is apart from all of that, with someone who really knows him. Could he have done that with Bucky? I don’t know. Seems to me, from what we’ve seen, that Bucky represented passively understanding  Steve while Peggy, at the point they were separated, represented understanding Steve and moving him forward.

Bucky was “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Peggy is “I had faith.”

Bucky was the guy to have Steve’s back in the fight. Peggy was the woman to show him he was meant for more. She represents his potential. She represents his ability to move on, see who he is when he’s doing more than following orders or standing up for honor or proving himself. It would have been out of character for him to stay in the present because new fights would have arisen, and he never would’ve put down the shield. He would’ve fought until someone killed him. And guess what? Bucky would’ve been right behind him, dragging himself into a fight when what he really needs is to step away from Steve and the baggage of his past for a bit. Not completely, but enough.

But this way? With Peggy? We get to see the guy who was always lonely and always learning how to be less alone actually do it. If you miss how significant that is, and you miss how much sense it makes, you don’t understand Steve Rogers at all.

#snowybookworm #I could’ve said less better #but here we are #avengers #steve rogers is an asshole #steve rogers #captain america #captain rogers #steggy #anti-stucky #captain America endgame #avengers:Endgame endgame #mcu #marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe