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cabinetduo · 2 years

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ctubbo characterization master post

Ok so I was thinking abt ctubbo and characterization and how a lot of the fandom doesn't rlly have a solid grip on him (no shade its not on here mainly) whether it's bcs of lack of interest or exaggeration and like fandom lense or whatever (he tends to kinda get fucked ovr in ensemble fics) and then I thought well we talk abt scary nuke violence tubbo vs uwu beeboy or whatever but I was thinking there's definitely more to it then that bcs sometimes when I'm writing even I'm super insecure abt my portrayl of ctubbo so ig this post is kind of like a breakdown using some of my fav ctubbo things for me that could b useful 4 others as well

(This might b a little unorganized and like unprofessional-!!i will misspell and abbreviate a lot srry!!-but it's tumblr so who cares just don't expect too much cohesiveness I am writing this to get my thoughts out mostly

[DISCLAIMER!! most of this is my personal interpretation of ctubbo seeing as that's what ctubbo is mostly, what u interpret him as, but also its a bunch of notes and common traits that I got from awesome ctubbo fans and I'm mainly making it 2 help me :) < I'm not linking canon examples and evidence bcs I'm lazy and fuck that alsooo I'll mainly b focusing on ctubbo individually and not his relationships and such

ctubbos humor

I'm gnna start w ctubbos humor and irony and that kinda stuff. So like w ctubbo and characterization a lot of times ppl will take traits or speaking habits from the streamer and apply them to the character which is common in the general mcyt fandom but w ctubbo it's esp common bcs of cctubbos whole "ctubbo is just me but if I was put into certain situations" which we've kinda moved past seeing as that thought process worked better in the earlier seasons before ctubbo was morw cctubbo and less a result of his circumstances, his experiences, and ctubblings drawing lines between things << this isn't my main focus rn tho there is a huge distinction between cc and ctubbo

To get to the point ctubbo is a pretty serious dude but also he's not, there's a fun middle ground that I like where ctubbos humor has definitely become darker as he's aged bcs of his circumstances. One of the best examples I can thing of is this line from elegy in eleven bars by ssootsprite

^^this definitely portrays ctubbos humor well imo, the dark irony and humor that often stems from taht fact that ctubbo will sometimes jsut do what he finds funny but usually those take form on a smaller scale if we want an actual cohesive character

ctubbo swiss army knife

Ive made a handful of posts abt this but one bit abt ctubbo that is often missed is the fact that he's been dehumanized throughout his story which led to him internalizing it not seeing himself as a person entirely, more like a tool for others or a means to an end. I love love dsmp au fics but something some of them miss out on is ctubbos urge to serve others which stems into two branches that I call safety and self

When in a dangerous situation or around someone that he's deemed dangerous ctubbo will instinctively shift to politeness and servitude occasionally its his follower instinct<<this is bcs of manburg specifically cschlatt though it was really instilled to him by cdream after the whitehouse fight (where he called him a follower) and the disc saga finale (called him a sidekick). This happens sometimes in canon but enough times for it to be a full blown like, thing my fav explanation of this is augustus evergreen by thatweirdguyinthebushes on ao3

The second facet "self" is more deep, it's ctubbos actual beliefs, that he's not worth anything if he's not doing something or his tendency to work as a means of avoiding emotion. He doesn't see himself as a person or a child, often forcing himself into the roll of an adult to meet a goal of serving others (his nlm presidency) < this also comes from Manburg but can also be tied to my fav quote "a good kid and a better spy" (not gnna go too into ctubbos spy mentality bcs that's a whole other essay LOL) after being repeatedly handed jobs that are not meant for kids, responsibities much larger than him, he internalized all of it and tied it to his self worth and how he sees himself

Fav FAVVVV example is this poem and art

by @/yellogazello which gets the point across by whacking u ovr the head w emotion and some ctubbo aesthetics that rlly do well 4 his character -> also I made 2 web weaves on all ^^^this if ur interested also I've got a bunch of analysis on it in #smpanalysis bcs it's my fave ctubbo is kind of naturally a follower but this isn't always a complete negative (see: the way he comfortably follows Tommy or the way he and Tommy willingly followed Wilbur- it isn't always an 100% bad thing but over the course of his life it's kind of been tainted

ctubbo logic brain

Tubbo "logic braining" something =/= him thinking logically it's him and his fucked up process that filters things through his weird logic that would make any stable person worried, his brain does flips to rationalize his own and others thought processes to make them make sense to him, it's the same kind of thinking that is responsible for his "safe people" its the same kind of thinking that makes him blame himself for things that were clearly out of his control. While ctubbo is often seen as a more "brain lead" character, most, hell, all of his core motivations are emotional >> the need to protect his loved ones, his people, the innocent, to live upto expectations, and so on. This ties into his protective sort of paranoid nature that he displays toward his loved ones that is sometimes misconstrued as controlling

A lot of ^^^^^ this can be tied to ctubbos relationship w attachments and belongings which is one of the dsmps overall themes, ctubbos logic being that attachment is irrational and only leads to being hurt but forming attachments and getting hurt against his better judgment

ctubbo and the nukes

One thing that is often lost in surface level depictions of ctubbo is the nuke plot. This is often used to characterize ctubbo as violent or immoral (which I won't deny he can be at times) but one key detail about ctubbos nukes is that they were always a last resort, no matter what he threatened or said he never ever wanted to use them, constantly emphasizing how crazy it was that he had access to so much power and how terrified he was of misusing it in the missing nuke stream w jack. ctubbo has always always been a peaceseeking character. Like w most things abt ctubbo there's a nice middle ground, though tubbo leans less towards chaotic and more towards solemn, esp when at an emotional low

The nukes hold a lot of symbolism for ctubbo and are often presented as an antithesis to the bee symbolism used for him > the nukes being him becoming more violent and straying from what is deemed moral as a defense mechanism, becoming worse than your enemies (stay soft by mitski etc) and the bees representing his innocence and the loss of it (a common theme w ctubbo and on the dsmp in general) tying to the more nature-y imagery that become professional/political in late s1 & 2 which then became technologybased and cold in s3 & 4

ctubbos emotional intelligence

Another thing that a lot of people miss about ctubbo is that he has very veryy little emotional intelligence. Post-Michael kidnapping and arguably pre-Michael kidnapping there was this (mildly popular) notion that ctubbo was together emotionally to the point where there were a lot of misunderstandings surrounding his actions but the thing is he isn't. When it comes to himself ctubbo is aware that he is effected by his trauma (he will often make references to it) but he never does anything about it, he views it as irritational and tends to compartmentalize and repress his emotions which often leads to him hurting himself and others. ctubbos responses to emotion range from pure apathy to overwhelming him to the point of tears (which we've seen once w the anniversary stream) He's also not very good with recognizing the emotions of others, while he is good at reading people and their intentions (mainly people he has close relationships with) he is generally extremely blunt sometimes to the point of hurting other people's feelings on accident which he usually apologizes for immediately afterwards. In fact, ctubbos bluntness and politeness are a fun contrast to experiment with if you're interested

With all of ^^^this stuff dissonance by shrugofgod does a rlly good job of this I'm just putting a small snippet but the entire fic is incredible w sm details and ctubbo intricacies it's so good

ctubbo survival and tragedy

ctubbo has survived a lot especially in comparison to other characters he is close to << that was badly worded, what I mean is a lot of the people in ctubbos life have died/were dead/are dead and he just isn't. Tragedy is a large part of ctubbo, if something is going right for him it will inevitably go wrong, things like stability don't exist for him, he doesn't trust it and why should he? His paranoia has consistently been proven to be justified over and over again. Dramatic irony is such a huge part of him, he's experienced so much and has survived through so much but its like he can't die and he has to live everytime.

I made a webweave abt this that pust cqs firey survival next to ctubbos cold survival, I think i do a better job explaining in the notes of that

And this post which is the best thing I've ever posted is basically a bunch of super talent tubblings who've written poetry abt this topic (and other ctubbo stuff but mainly this) if u wnna check it out

Most of these things can be heavily elaborated on (nature of the dsmp is to have incredible fleshed out characters that feel human and awesome and that make u crazy) but this is kinda a summary and I have others posts that kind of do that I just wanted to put all this in one place

More stuff ⬇️

This post is a succinct and well put ctubbo explanation/summary and a fave

And this post is wondas god tier dsmp characterism breakdown that will save ur life if ur a writer

This post is a fic recs post that has a lot of epic awesome dsmp writers but a lot of them write ctubbo bcs I'm biased

And finally here's a link to tubbo3091<3333 which a roleplay blog that has the most perfect ctubbo characterization ever in the world

#c!tubbo #dsmp #smp analysis #death ment tw #ask 2 tag lemme know if i missed n e thing

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elisabeth515 · 3 years

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(Some) Greek Gods as Historical Figures

So some days ago I secretly logged back into Mythology and Cultures amino and I stumbled across post of casting historical figures as the gods from Greek mythology. Of course, I hated it, so I made my version of this.

Note: Of course, this is going to have quite a lot of Napoleonic figures, since I am more familiar of this period, but please do reblog this post (or tag me on another post) with the hashtag “#mythical figures as historical people” and add some more of your historical figure Greek God fancasts!

Note 2: this post is for entertaining purpose, and just me introducing some guys to y’all and I am not a historian myself and hopefully you all would still like my takes😅

1. Zeus - Louis XIV of France

First and foremost, I shall introduce the king of gods featured in Greco-Roman myths. You may ask, why don’t I cast Henry VIII of England? Well, my reason is very simple: Henry is far from accurate to Zeus in actual myths.

To be honest, Zeus has a more “absolute power” energy in it, and Louis XIV totally has rocked it (like that iconic line “l’état, c’est moi (I am the state)”). Well, Henry also has that kind of energy but everyone only remembers his six wives and the uncountable number of bloodshed (not to mention Catherine of Aragon is a much better fighter than him—got this from Horrible Histories OwO)... Anyways, Louis XVI is basically a Zeus.

2. Hera - Catherine of Aragon

This brings to Catherine of Aragon herself. She’s a total Q U E E N and if you have watched “Six” the musical you already got what I mean (like, being the wife who married to Henry the longest). There’s also the early warlike aspect in Hera (featured in Homer’s works) that Catherine has it as well (at least you know that she’s getting more victories than Henry if you have watched Horrible Histories season 6, in the episode with Rowan Atkinson playing Henry VIII (which is sad because I want Ben Willbond to play him—he iconic to the HH fandom)), making her a great casting of Hera.

Hera, in my opinion, is a very strong woman who has to take Zeus’s shit and I could totally understand why she took revenge on the girls that Zeus has slept with—but anyways, hopefully you guys would like it :3

3. Aphrodite - Pauline Bonaparte

This is half-self-explanatory, really—just look at that statue she posed as Venus, the Roman equivalent of Aphrodite.

Pauline was famed for her beauty in her time, also a big chunk of scandals from her affairs (which bugs her big brother Napoleon, a lot). Nevertheless, despite her big spending habits and a great sexual appetite, she always helped Napoleon in some surprising ways (like she sold her house in Paris to the Duke of Wellington to get the funds for Napoleon).

Just like Aphrodite herself, Pauline harnessed her beauty very well. Thus, I rest my case.

4. Apollo - Joachim Murat or Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria

(Warning: long content ahead)

Firstly, let me briefly introduce them because you guys might not know them much.

Joachim Murat was a marshal of France, also one of Napoleon’s brother-in-law, grand duke of Berg and Cleves from 1806 to 1808 and the King of Naples from 1808 to 1815. After the wars, he attempted to escape yet was caught and executed in 1815 in Pizzo, Italy (if you have read of Alexandre Dumas’s “Famous Crimes” you might know him—by the way no one has cut his head off and sent it to that big nose King Ferdinand).

For those who have watched “Elisabeth” or the “Sissi” movies, you might know Franz Joseph I of Austria already but you might not know much about himself besides being the husband of the (in)famous Empress Sisi (ie. Empress Elisabeth of Austria). He was the Emperor of the Austria from 1848 to his death in 1916—one of the longest reigning European monarchs in history. During his reign, the empire had been through a lot of change, most notably, the creation of Austria-Hungary. Nevertheless, he was also the Emperor who started World War I and he died of old age in the midst of the Great War.

For Apollo, I’m not casting musicians because this is quite overdone. I rather want to shed a light to the other arts that he represented in Greco-Roman mythology. This makes me want to draw a parallel to Joachim Murat as he was also a great sucker of classical literature. Plus, he also was known to be a flamboyant dresser (his nickname was “the Dandy King” by the way), also the designer of the uniforms of the Neapolitan army (with an excessive amount of amaranth, perhaps his favourite colour). Really, everyone just sees him as a great flamboyant himbo but in reality, he’s iconically badass in the battlefield as the First Horseman of Europe. Well, also he’s known for being extremely good with women even though his wife Caroline was fierce as hell. So, in my opinion, he fits the image of Apollo that we know.

However, you guys might feel surprised why I picked Franz Joseph for Apollo. Well, he really... was a rather mediocre ruler in my opinion, and perhaps our most memorable image of him was the senile emperor who signed the declaration of war to Serbia. Nevertheless, he was a well-liked man among his subjects, at least to some old citizens of Austria-Hungary telling future generations. Besides, culture flourished in Vienna under his reign—with notable figures like Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Erwin Schrödinger. Despite the series of unfortunate events which made the empire started to crumble, Austria-Hungary arguably has its cultural importance in Europe. Sounds like what Apollo would do if he’s a ruler, somehow.

Well, enough of his political achievements, let’s talk about his private life... which was probably the actual reason why I picked him.

Enter Duchess Elisabeth in Bavaria, the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, also known as Sisi.

On a side note, Marshal Louis-Alexandre Berthier of France, Prince of Neufchâtel and of Wargram, was Empress Sisi’s grand-uncle in-law via his marriage to Duchess Maria Elisabeth in Bavaria

Absolutely love Pia as Elisabeth in the musical so please don’t mind me using a gif from this :3 ((also, “Elisabeth” spoiler alert

Franz originally was to marry her sister Helene (nicknamed Néné), nevertheless, on the first meeting in Bad Ishl, he has fallen for the young Elisabeth, head over heels—making him defying his domineering mother, Archduchess Sophie, for the very first time. Elisabeth also liked him and did not expressed her refusal either, so they got married in St. Augustine’s Church in 29th April, 1854.

However, the marriage was not well. Sisi was not accustomed to the strict Austrian court especially Archduchess Sophie (also she was not really a fan of intimacy). Poor Franz was rather helpless in situations between his mother and his wife, and eventually, Sisi chose her freedom over her duty as Empress, traveling around the world. They two briefly went back together during the Austro-Hungarian compromise, yet she was constantly not there. Eventually, Sisi was assassinated by an anarchist named Luigi Lucheni during her stay in Geneva, Switzerland, and Franz was devastated over her death (“she will never know how much I love her”).

To Franz, he loved her so, but he really didn’t understand her needs. Even though he had countless mistresses and female companions in Vienna, he still missed his wife. I say, he was really unlucky when it comes to love. Like Apollo himself, he dated countless nymphs and humans, but a lot of his notable relationships did not have a good end. (Probably Cyrene was the most lucky one, yet she also has chosen to be left alone after mothering several children with Apollo.) For this, I picked Franz Joseph as Apollo.

5. Ares - Jean Lannes or Michel Ney

As usual, for those who don’t know much history, I shall briefly introduce my babeys these two great soldiers.

Jean Lannes was one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for being one of Napoleon’s closest friends and his fiery personality, and is considered one of the best marshals of the 1st French Empire. His finest moments including the Battle of Ratisbon in which he led his men to storm the well-guarded city with ladders (hence his nickname “ladder lord” in our very humble Napoleonic marshalate fandom :3). Sadly, he died of the wound he received in the battle of Aspern-Essling in 1809.

Michel Ney was also one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for his extreme valour (yep, he is known as the “Bravest of the Brave”). As you might know, he was one of the marshals who was in Waterloo, yet, his finest hour was during the retreat from Russia in the disasterous 1812. Sadly, he was arguably the most prominent victim of the White Terror under the second Bourbon restoration, executed in 1815 (**I am not accepting any kind of conspiracy theories of my babey survived and died in America😤).

Speaking of Ares, I have a lot of things to say (that’s my dad ;-; no jkjk). He is really not that bloodthirsty idiot who casually hates humans. Well, he’s more like a fiery dork and a man who was very faithful to his lovers, and fights very well (by the way also one of the best dads). So, the bois that come into my mind are automatically two of the most courageous marshals of France.

Lannes, if I have to get him a godly parent, it would definitely Ares. He resembled the god a lot (also I sometimes imagined Ares as a smol bean with dark hair), probably looks the most like Ares himself. He got that fiery temper, that faithfulness to his wife Louise, also being a very courageous fighter in the field—well he literally was like, “NO LEMME STORM DAT CITY *grabs ladder*”.

There you have it, my big bro our ladder lord Jean Lannes who can pull off a perfect Ares.

Ney is like a slightly introverted (and mature) version of an Ares person. You can guess his temper already through his famed auburn hair, and indeed despite his shy exterior his temper sometimes was a bit explosive, and a bit impatient (which was somehow one of his fatal flaws). He was a great fighter, known as a skilled swordsman in his youth. And you all know how brave he is in his famed epithet. Michel Ney is purely badass (and C U T E) you know (and he needs a lot of hugs because he has really been though a lot in the wars, and was a possible case of PTSD which was shown in his arguably suicidal behaviour during the battle of Waterloo). That’s why I casted him as the Greek god Ares OwO

And there you have it, my interpretations on the Greek gods via people in history. I originally would like to include more but somehow I realised that I have written too much about my picks. So, if you want to add more, reblog this post or tag me on the post you made on this topic (and please use the hashtag “mythical figures as historical people” so that I could look into your choices via the search bubble on this app🥺).

Last but not the least, I hope you all lovelies like this, also have learnt something new via my brief introductions on some historical people. Have a great day!

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resilientdolan · 4 years

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Drown (G.D) - part 14//end

A/N: idk i feel like it’s the shittiest part wtf. also, please lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist!

Word-count: 1.8k+

Summary: Goodbye isn’t forever, it’s Bianca and Grayson’s “i’ll see you again”

Tags: @bingexdolan @grantsairforce @prettyboydolan @kyaaawritings @3ooda97 @baby-grayson @ryxgrantdolan @fangdolan @evergreendolan @goldenndolan @nikesbailey @soledadgray @sosweetgrethan @twinfinitydolan @333dolans

———————————————————————

If only Bianca could delete that Saturday from her life, she would. It’s 7 in the morning and here she is, putting her maroon cardigan over her floral dress to get ready for the day that she never thought that she would face.

The day to say goodbye to the love of her life.

Bianca gently brushes her long dark locks with her fingers as she looks at her own refelction in the mirror. She suddenly got distracted by a picture that she tacked on her mirror. It’s a polaroid picture of her and Grayson in the back of his Porsche, from the night she lost it to him. Bianca smiling as she took the picture with her camera, with Grayson’s arms wrapped around her, smiling as well. Literally the best night of her life.

Once she’s all set, she heads downstairs to the kitchen only to grab her favorite juicebox. Her mom, who’s sitting on the stool in the counter with her dad, greets her with a smile.

“Good morning, miss pouty,” she teases, since Bianca looks so quiet that morning, completely different with the usual Bianca.

“Morning, mom,” she replies shortly.

“You okay?,” she glances over at her daughter who’s making her way towards the fridge.

“I’m...,” she pauses as she turns around to face her, and she shakes her head. “I’m not okay, Mom. I don’t want him to leave,” she replies in shaky voice. It’s obvious she’s trying to hold herself back from crying.

“Oh, my little baby,” her dad opens his arms wide to scoop her into a hug. “Both of you will be okay. You can text each other, facetime too—“

“No, you don’t get it. I want him around me. Like physically, not only through the phone,” Bianca lays her her head on her dad’s shoulder as she mumbles. “Actually... I’ve been thinking,” she pauses once again.

“About?,” her mom arches her brow as a reaction to her statement.

“I— uh... I want to move to LA with him,” she replies absent-mindedly. Her parents remain silent as she speaks again. “Like... I know I said that I want to go to Bloomfield, but honestly... I— I want to move somewhere new, and you know—,” she sighs.

“Go on, baby, we’ll listen,” her dad encourages her to go on.

“Well— Grayson asked me to move to to LA, with him, because he wants me near, and honestly, I do want it to. But in the other hand... I—I just want to be a good daughter. I want to spend my time as much as I can with you two,” she chews her lower lip. “I mean— I know it’ll hurt you two but—.”

Her father quickly shakes his head as he pulls away for a bit so he can face his only daughter. “Bianca, what? Hurt us? You’re not hurting us!,” he replies.

“But I’m going to leave—“

“Sweetie, we’ll be okay! Do whatever makes you happy. Chase your dreams. You’ll always have our support,” her mom adds. “You can visit us during breaks, and Grayson can visit his family too!,” she speaks excitedly.

“Wait, you’re okay with me leaving?,” Bianca frowns.

“Of course! Honey, you’re no longer a kid,” her dad gently pats her back. “If the idea of moving to a new place with your loved one makes you happy, do it, baby. We’re not holding you back,” he nods his head.

“Are you sure?,” Bianca asks once again to make sure about that.

“Sweetie, we’ll be okay. We’ll stay in touch,” her Mom replies.

“I love you. I love you two so much,” Bianca lets out a soft sigh as she pulls her parents into a group hug for a while. “I promise, I’ll be good. And we can talk everyday, yeah?,” she mumbles.

“Promise. Now it’s time for you to see your man for the last time before he leaves. We can discuss about this once you’re back, it’s nearly 7.45, honey,” her dad reminds her.

“Right, see you later, i love you!,” Bianca quickly pulls away and grabs her juicebox along with her keys.

She just can’t wait to tell him about the news.

———————————————————————

“That’s my girl!,” Bianca can hear Grayson’s voice echoes through the hallway as soon as he sees her making her way towards him. She gets to excited that she starts running towards him. Grayson decides to match her energy by opening his arms wide to welcome her into a hug. Ethan is there as well. He waves his hand at her before he shifts his gaze back to Mabel, who was talking to him.

“I thought you’re not coming,” Grayson pokes out his bottom lip as he carefully lifts her off the ground. Bianca quickly shakes her head as she moves her hands up to cup his cheeks.

“No, I’m definitely coming. I need to see you for the last time,” she replies.

“Oh, hey, I have something for you,” Grayson carefully sets her down after few moments before he shoves his hand into the pocket of his denim jacket that he’s wearing. He quickly pulls out a small maroon box, with a bow on it, and opens it.

A small padlock necklace, with the letter G engraved on the back of the padlock.

“Grayson, it looks so pretty,” Bianca stands in awe as she watches him taking the necklace out of the box.

“Not as pretty as my girl, and oh! I got my initial engraved, see?,” he enthusiastically shows the back of the padlock, where she can see the letter G engraved there, to her.

“Grayson, you actually don’t have to—“

“Shh, let me put it on you. Turn around,” he quickly cuts her off. Bianca quickly turns around so he can put the necklace on her. Once he’s done, she reaches her hand up to touch the padlock.

“You’re mine, and all mine. That’s why I’m choosing padlock. Also, it’s the place were I should be, right next to your heartbeat, just like what Ed Sheeran said,” he smiles.

“We’re going to be away from each other for two weeks, Gray,” Bianca replies, hoping he would notice the fact that she mentions the word two weeks.

“Yeah— wait, two weeks?,” Grayson glances over at his girl with a slight frown.

Bianca nods her head quickly as the smile on her face grows even wider than before. “Give me two weeks, I’ll pack my stuff and move in with you,” she explains.

“Bianca, what—“

“I talked to my parents this morning and they’re okay with me moving to LA. Now, please give me two weeks to pack my things amd prepare everything. We’ll be together again soon, Gray,” she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck to close the gap between them.

“Holy fuck!,” Grayson yells, so loud that probably the everyone around the hallway can hear him. “Baby, that’s fantastic!,” he scoops his girlfriend into another hug.

“I know! I can’t wait!,” she giggles.

“Dolan? Is that you?,” an unfamiliar voice distracts the lovebirds.

Grayson shifts his gaze from the girl in her arms to the one standing three feet away from him. There stands a girl with long blonde hair, with a pair of blue eyes, and very much taller than Bianca.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Wait— Alana?,” Grayson squints his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me!,” the blonde girl replies. Bianca quickly shifts his gaze from her boyfriend, then to the new girl that she just met as she pulls away from the hug.

“Damn, it’s been a while, hey!,” Grayson comments. The girl that he’s talking to wraps her arms around his torso, pulling him into a quick hug.

Who’s this girl?

“This is my girlfriend, Bianca. Bianca, this is Alana Whitman, one of my old friends, also... Oliver’s ex-girlfriend,” he speaks in playful tone like he’s messing with her. Oliver is one of Grayson’s cousins.

“Oh, shut up,” Alana playfully shoves him off.

But what catches Bianca’s attention is the name of the girl in front of her, not the fact that she’s Oliver’s ex-girlfriend. Alana Whitman.

Bianca met Alana once when she was 13, on the twins’ birthday party. She has been friends with the twins since they were younger. But that’s not the most important part. The thing is, Alana is Grayson’s first kiss. Though it only happened once, all thanks to that stupid spin-the-bottle game. Grayson also told her once that he used to have a crush on Alana, but it’s all over once he had to witness Alana choosing his cousin instead of him.

Who wouldn’t have a crush on Alana Whitman? Super tall, blue eyes, straight blonde hair. Isla’s nothing compared to her.

“Oh, hello there,” she gives Bianca a small smile. Bianca nods her head as she waves her hand.

“Hey, anyway, where are you going, Alana?,” Grayson asks.

“I’m going to LA,” she smiles.

“Wait, LA? We are too— I mean, Ethan and I. Bianca’s leaving next week,” Grayson elaborates. “Boarding time?,” Grayson asks.

“09.50. Yours?,” Alana answers once she checked her boarding pass.

“Me too! I hope we’re sitting not way too far from each other so I can talk to you, because I’m sure Ethan will sleep during the whole flight,” he chuckles.

Bianca remains quiet. She kinda feels excluded there, but she doesn’t know where to go, since Ethan’s busy talking to Mabel.

“Oh, and hey, I think it’s time for us to leave?,” Alana takes a quick glance at her watch before she shifts her gaze back to Grayson.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he nods before he shifts his gaze back to his girlfriend. “Baby, it’s time,” he coos.

“Yeah. I know. I’ll miss you,” Bianca mumbles as she wraps her arms around his torso, so tight that she doesn’t want to let him go.

“2 weeks, and then we’ll be together again,” he hugs her back.

“Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine, you’re— all mine,” she whispers in his ear. Grayson shakes his head as he squeezes her gently.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nods. “Be good when I’m away, yeah?,” he tucks a strand of her hair to the back of Bianca’s ear.

“I will. And you too, yeah?,” she gently bites down her lower lip. He gives her another nod as a respond.

“C’mon, E, it’s time,” Grayson calls for his twin. Ethan gives Mabel a quick hug before he grabs his suitcase and follows Grayson and Alana.

Bianca tugs her hands on the edge of her cardigan as he watches her favorite man walking away with his twin and that girl. She bites her lower lip once again to hold herself back from crying. But a moment later, there she stands, screaming his name.

“Grayson!”

Hearing her calling his name, Grayson turns around, only to find her running towards him to plant a soft kiss onto his lips. In reflex, Grayson cups her cheeks as he returns the kiss.

“I love you, Grapeson. See you in two weeks, please wait for me,” Bianca sniffles as she pulls away.

“And I love you, Bumblebee. I’ll be waiting, baby,” he scoops her into a hug one more time before he waves his hand for the last time and turns around to follow Ethan and Alana.

One thing running inside her head as she watches him leaving.

Why leaving in two weeks if she can leave next week?

She needs to mark her own territory.

-to be continued-

coming soon: Thick and Thin

#grayson dolan #douche!gray #grayson dolan fic #highschool!gray #tgabs'write #drown by tgabs

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sweet-royalty · 4 years

Text

Never Been in Love

Summary: Patton is alone at home and is enjoying this time dancing and filling himself with pride (Extremely self-indulgent but at this point all my fanfics are like this and I have no shame at all so yeah xP)

Genre: Songfic (Will Jay, Marina and the Diamonds and Moses Sumney)

Word Count: 3371 words (9 pages)

Pairings (All of them are heavily mentioned but they are not the focus of the story): Queerplatonic LAMP, Romantic Analogince and Romantic Dukeceit

Content: Slight Angst w/ Comfort; Human!AU; Aro!Patton; Closeted Aromantic; Virgil, Roman and Logan are romantically dating and each one of them are Patton’s QPPs; Fluff; Just pure fluff despite many things; Sympathetic Deceit; Sympathetic Remus; Hoh!Deceit; Sign Names mentioned for 2 characters; Hoh experience written by someone who is not hoh (read as “please tell me if I’m doing something wrong”); Non White Sides;

Trigger Warning: Nudity (without sexual content or genitalia description), Snake mention, Amatonormativity (the characther is not actually arophobic, he just doesn’t know Patton is aromantic) (Tell me if I forgot to tag something)

Disclaimer: I couldn’t find a hand sign for “vitiligo” other than actually spelling it to make as Deceit’s sign name so his sign name in this story might not be so good. If you have any other suggestion for his sign name and explain how to sign it I’ll really appreciate it!

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“Don't you want somebody to never let you go? Knowing someone's body better than your own Don't you want a family with a white picket fence? Tell me when's the wedding, the names of all your kids” Will Jay – Never Been in Love

Being alone at home was always one of the best things that could happen for Patton.

Not because he doesn’t like his family but because he enjoys the freedom of being alone. And this time, the house would be all his for the whole day. His parents were taking his brother to see if they could fix his hearing-aid or buy him another one. And after that they would take him for a sleepover at the twins house and go out to celebrate their marriage birthday. It was simply P E R F E C T.

Patton noticed his brother walking in the room and sitting on the sofa in front of him while their parents were going back and forth taking everything they need. He knew what that meant. That’s usually what they do when they want to talk privately. Patton paused his music player and left the cellphone behind.

- Sorry about your hearing aid, D - he signed with a sad face.

The last sign made him sulk

- I adore when you call me like this - he said rolling his eyes when pointing his index and middle finger to the side and touching his heart so Patt would know he was being sarcastic. He giggled.

- Ok, can you teach me the s-n-a-k-e sign again, please?

D made a two with his fingers, pointing to Patton, brought his hand to his chin then lowered it with a zig-zag movement like a snake moving. He repeated the movement but instead of a two he rised his index finger and touched the other ones together forming a “d” with his hand.

He gave him the thumbs up. D’s love for snakes made him really happy for being given this sign.

- Don’t worry about my hearing aid - he showed his broken aid, hand painted as a snake – I’ll paint a new one if we can’t fix it

- What are you doing with this one then?

He shrugged then placed his index and thumb together under his nose and slid it on his upper lip before crossing his fingers. “Mustache” followed by “R”.

The sign he gave to one of the twins.

- Remus asked if I can give it to him if we can’t fix. Maybe he wants to open it? I don’t know

Patton smiled and gave him a malicious face.

- You will be cuddling with your boyfriend!

- Remus is not my boyfriend! - he sulked while grunting.

Patton tried not giggling too loud, since D could still hear something from his right ear.

- Ok, he’s your crush. I hope you’ll have fun

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else to defend himself.

- You’re lucky you don’t have a crush. I’ll make your life a living hell when you do!

Patt snorted.

- Good luck

“… with that” he meant.

“I'm not missing someone that I've never met Maybe a little scared, still I don't care” Will Jay – Never Been in Love

Patton took some of his clothes off having just a baby blue long T-shirt covering his brown-skinned body, feeling the wind from the open window run through him. He spinned around the room and laid down to the sofa, grabbing his phone and scrolling to see if there were any new messages for him.

Roman (7:01 AM): Good morning~ Who is ready for today?

Virgil (7:02 AM): Ro, it’s 7 in the fucking morning

Virgil (7:02 AM): Lemme sleep

Roman (7:02 AM): I’m sorry, lil sunshine

Roman (7:03 AM): But if you actually were sleeping you wouldn’t be answering it!

Virgil (7:05 AM): Ooooor maybe I WAS sleeping but then a stupid bird sound woke me up!

Roman (7:05 AM): Not my fault if you sleep with your phone glued to your face!

Logan (7:05 AM): Can you stop bickering this early in the morning?

Logan (7:05 AM): We’ll be ready when the time comes, Roman. No need to rush.

Roman (7:07 AM): Oh my lovely nerd

Roman (7:07 AM): I meant to ask if you were excited

Roman (7:07 AM): Not if you were literally ready.

Roman (7:08 AM): The movie is only at 7 PM

Virgil (7:08 AM): I’m extremely excited, your highness

Virgil (7:09 AM): Now would you please stop texting here and let me sleep?

Roman (7:09 AM): As you wish, my love <3

Virgil (7:10 AM): -_- <3

Virgil (10:23 AM): Ok, now I’m up

Patton (10:30 AM): Good morning, my dears ^_^ <3

Patton (10:30 AM): Are you going to the movies today?

Virgil (10:33 AM): Sup, Patt

Virgil (10:35 AM): Yeah… I kinda won 3 movie tickets…

Virgil (10:35 AM): We’d call you but the movie isn’t really your type

Virgil (10:36 AM): I’m so sorry, Patt :( I didn’t mean to exclude you or anything…

Patton (10:36 AM): No no! I didn’t feel like this at all, love!

Patton (10:37 AM): Don’t worry! I’m happy that you’re goin out!

Patton (10:37 AM): Send me pictures of you once you meet, I wanna see your pretty faces <3 <3

Virgil (10:38 AM): Are you sure? :/

Roman (10:39 AM): Patt, you’re just as important as any of us. We don’t want to make you feel like a third wheel.

Logan (10:39 AM): Just because you’re not involved with us romantically that doesn’t make our platonic feelings for you less important.

Virgil (10:40 AM): Just tell us if something is bothering you, ok?

Roman (10:40 AM): Yes, if you want we can try to see each other earlier so even if you don’t go to the movie we can at least see each other

Logan (10:40 AM): Yes, we’d gladly do this for you

Patton’s smile got wider. He was being sincere when he said he wasn’t feeling excluded and he knew how genuine that invitation was because they all genuinely loved him as much as he did and in the same way he did.

As strong as everything he could feel.

They were the friends he never wanted to miss, they were the people he could always count for and know they’d do anything to help him just like he’d do anything for them and they didn’t need to be in love with each other for it.

Patton (10:43 AM): You’re amazing, loves <3 But really I’m not feeling like going anywhere today. D went out with our parents and I’ll be alone the whole day, I think I’ll spend this time with myself here at home ^_^ But I appreciate it, really. I love you so much ;u; <3

Roman (10:43 AM): Anything for you, my dear! Enjoy your day!

Virgil (10:43 AM): We love you, ok? We’ll make sure to include you next time.

Virgil (10:43 AM): Promise

Logan (10:44 AM): Tell us if you need something or change your mind

Patton (10:44 AM): I love you too <3 Don’t worry

Patton swiped the chat group off and searched for something to listen while baking some cookies

“I know exactly what I want and who I wanna be. I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy” Marina and the Diamonds - Oh No!

Patton was mouthing the lyrics while scooping the cookie dough. His shoulders wiggling with the song’s catchy rhythm as he felt every beat controlling his body.

Patton didn’t really listen to Marina and the Diamonds so often but Roman successfully made him addicted to this song. Last time he came to sleepover they danced together the whole night and without noticing they were practically lip-synching this song, which was so amazing and powerful that Patton never left this rush go.

He turned the stove on, started the chronometer and just left the music flowing through his body

Patton twirled off the kitchen, the wind following his movements filling his legs with a chilling sensation that would only make his movements more and more powerful.

He was throwing his head back with his eyes closed, shaking it so hard that Patton could feel the curls of his hair touching his cheeks making him smile as bright as the sun.

That’s what he likes the most about being alone. As long as nobody could see he could be as cheerful, loud and expressive as he wants without any judgement. He could manage to make his entire body feel happiness and express it in it’s own way.

He could shake his as weird and as careless he wanted.

His thoughts were cut off by a loud ringing.

- Oops! Almost forgot my cookies!

“Oh yeah I'm tired of falling Oh yeah For someone else's story 'Cause he gets the girl and I get ticket stubs I guess it's time to write my own personal version of love” Will Jay – Version of Love

Patton (6:34 PM): Hey, Dee! Are you already at Remus and Roman’s house?

DD (6:40 PM): Hey there. Yeah, we’re watching the Saw movie for the 4th time this year -_-

Patton (6:40 PM): Wow…

Patton (6:41 PM): Why you never tell him you don’t like this movie?

DD (6:42 PM): No one likes to hear him beaming about the deaths and all the gore stuff.

DD (6:42 PM): And it’s funny to hear him laughing when that woman tries to reach the keys and ends up trapped

Patton (6:44 PM): Awwwww

Patton (6:45 PM): It’s cute that you do that just to see him happy

DD (6:50 PM): -___-

DD (6:51 PM): If you wanna see it this way

DD (6:55 PM): At least the movie don’t make me feel uncomfortable so it’s more bearable

Patton (6:56 PM): Yup

DD (7:00 PM): Hey, Patton

Patton (7:01 PM): Yes?

DD (7:02 PM): I think I’ll try to tell him tonight

Patton (7:05 PM): Tell what?

DD (7:02 PM): Don’t worry, I’m hidden in the bathroom. He’s not seeing our messages.

Patton (7:03 PM): Oh, ok!

Patton (7:04 PM): Well, good luck! ^^ I’m pretty sure things will turn out fine

DD (7:05 PM): I’m not worried about it

Patton (7:05 PM): Pfff

Patton (7:05 PM): Sure ;)

DD (7:06 PM): urgh

DD (7:07 PM): You should tell Roman too

Patton sighed. There we go again.

Patton (7:07 PM): D, I told you before. I’m not in love with Roman…

Patton (7:08 PM): He is my best friend, just like Logan and Virgil.

DD (7:08 PM): Well, I never said you were not in love with them TOO

DD (7:09 PM): Look

DD (7:10 PM): I know talking to mom and dad will be hard

DD (7:11 PM): It is hard for me too

DD (7:11 PM): But you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to

DD (7:12 PM): None of us have

DD (7:13 PM): I’ve always hid my relationships very well, and you know that

DD (7:13 PM): I can help you so they won't find anything out too

DD (7:14 PM): Or… Idk, protect you if they react badly about it

DD (7:14 PM): Just know that I’m on your side, ok?

DD (7:14 PM): I’ll never judge you for being who you really are

DD (7:14 PM): And polyamorous relationships usually go great

Patton didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t the first time they talked about it.

No matter how many times Patton would say he’s not interested in anyone, D would try to say that he’s in love with Roman or one of his boyfriends.

Or act like he will be in love with someone someday.

But Patton highly doubted that and was pretty fine with it

Patton (7:15 PM): I know, D

Patton (7:15 PM): I love you

DD (7:16 PM): I need to go back now, I’ll talk to you tomorrow

Patton (7:16 PM): Good luck!

He never told his brother about being aromantic and all this talk actually makes him less inclined to do so. He knew he means well despite everything, so Patton never felt like yelling or fighting with him for insisting on it.

But at the same time…

He was so DONE.

It was already difficult for him to find out who he really is.

It was already a huge pain to see that the fact that he doesn’t feel OK with the idea of being romantically attached to someone. That this whole thing actually makes him feel sadder, empty and chained just by the simple thought of it because “that’s what everyone needs to feel”.

It was already difficult for him to see how he can explain his relationship with Logan, Virgil and Roman.

Yes, they were made for each other.

No, he never wants them to go away.

Yes, he loves them A LOT.

But his love was not romantic.

His 3 partners were dating each other romantically but they all see Patton as someone just as important in their lives, even if they don’t see him as a boyfriend.

When they found out about Queerplatonic Relationships it was like big realization and a good way to include Patton in their lives that was not just a simply “he’s my best friend”.

And that makes him so happy, special and wanted he didn’t need or wished anything else.

But it was almost like the whole world was revolved in romance and that was the only way for anyone to find happiness. Like not having a romantic partner meant you’d be “alone forever” as if that was the worst thing ever.

Patton was not alone.

Patton was not unhappy.

Patton was not repressing feelings anymore.

Patton was free. Patton was Patton.

And that was everything he needed.

Why wouldn’t anyone get this? Why was everyone so fixated on it? Why-

- No! – Patton murmured before eating one last cookie and getting up from the sofa and turning his TV off – I’m not letting this ruin my day. I’m gonna take a shower.

“Am I vital If my heart is idle? Am I doomed? … If lovelessness is godlessness Will you cast me to the wayside?” Moses Sumney - Doomed

Ok, maybe choosing this album to listen while taking a shower wasn’t a very uplifting choice. Not that his songs are bad. But they were not the type of songs for you to feel good, it’s more like a song to give you a relatable feeling. Something might make you say “yes, that’s what happens to me".

But the shower did gave him some good, since the cold water mixed with Moses’s voice echoing through the walls were relaxing and almost swooning, like meditating. Logan taught him how to fixate his thoughts in one single thing until he could slowly focus on the sensations of his surroundings and Patton particularly enjoyed doing this in the shower.

Patton threw his naked body in the bed and turned to see his own reflection in the mirror close to it.

He stared at his freckles, covering his entire brown body, and smiled as he remembered how Virgil made a small comment about how much he likes it because as a child he used to look at people with freckles and try to form constellations with them and it was like they have a little piece of the sky with them. That was the best “non-intentionally” cute comment he ever made.

He sat on the side of his bed and stared the mirror, giving more attention to his own details. He looked through his whole “galaxy body” passing some of his fingers through them, mentally picturing the whole sky moving around it. He never knew why but sometimes imagining things like this made him feel so good and at least for a second forget about everything else.

- Let’s see this galaxy dance.

He picked up his phone, chose the first song that came with shuffle mode and got up.

“You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable You are not a robot You're lovable, so lovable But you're just troubled” Marina and the Diamonds – I Am Not a Robot

This time he danced slowly and with his eyes closed.

His arms embracing his body and his movements had no shape or choreography.

It was just free and random.

Patton’s hands were running through his arms gently, like a self-cuddle, having this short moment to love himself.

He was moving his shoulders inclined his head behind and instead of just mouthing the lyrics, Patton allowed himself to actually sing.

He definitely was not.

He was a human being.

A lovely human being.

“It's okay to say you've got a weak spot You don't always have to be on top Better to be hated Than loved loved loved for what your not”

Later that night, now completely undercovers and almost ready to sleep, he received a photo from the chat group of Roman, Virgil and Logan in the cafeteria after watching their movie.

The image of the latino man and the black goth kissing each side of the ginger haired nerd made Patton smile fondly.

Patton (11:12 PM): Omg, you all look so adorable <3

Patton (11:12 PM): I’m happy you enjoyed your movie :3

Virgil (11:14 PM): Yeah, it was really cool

Virgil (11:15 PM): Logan and Roman wouldn’t stop geeking around it after the movie, they almost didn’t finished their meal

Roman (11:16 PM): Oh, come on! There were many things to think about after that

Virgil (11:17 PM): I’m not complaining, charming prince. It was cute seeing you theorizing things.

Roman (11:17 PM): UwU

Roman (11:20 PM): But hey! I guess we were not the only one who had a good movie night ¬u¬~

Roman sent a picture of his twin, laying on the living room’s couch, sleeping with his mouth open and his eyes slightly allowing to see his sclera as a short man with a small vitiligo around his left eye was sleeping on him with this arms embracing the rat man. Patton cooed upon the vision of his brother in such a lovely state.

Roman (11:22 PM): @Patton Morales blackmail? >:)

Patton (11:23 PM): Pffff come on, Roman. We both know none of us would do this xD

Roman (11:23 PM): Urgh, yeah you right…

Roman (11:23 PM): Ah to be a poor honest man, who loves his brother too much

Roman (11:23 PM): ú-ù

Virgil (11:25 PM): Say this for yourselves, I have no sympathy for those dirty little sinners

Roman (11:25 PM): omg VIRGIL!

Virgil (11:26 PM): Urrrrrrgh alright alright, I’m the one who’s not allowed to be a jerk. Sorry.

Roman (11:27 PM): I’m afraid some sins shall not be forgiven, sweet pudding… ú-ù

Virgil (11:27 PM): Tsc, fuck you then. I want my Nightmare Before Christmas DVDs back

Patton (11:27 PM): Omg, dears. Not this late at night xD

Virgil (11:28 PM): lol ok, Patt. Don’t worry, I was just kidding

Virgil (11:28 PM): I highly support your brothers

Virgil (11:29 PM): I love you all

Roman (11:29 PM): I love you too, storm cloud <3

Patton finished to curl up on his bed, hugging one of his pillows like a teddy bear and smiled to the phone screen with his lovely partners texts

Patton (11:30 PM): Hey, loves?

Virgil (11:30 PM): Yeah?

Roman (11:31 PM): Yes, Patton?

Patton (11:32 PM): I know this will sound random but… Thank you

Patton (11:32 PM): Thank you for being with me for so long

Patton (11:32 PM): Thank you for accepting and understanding me

Patton (11:33 PM): Thank you for being so kind and so nice and for having me in your lifes

Patton (11:33 PM): Having you as my partners was the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t know how I’d be able to live without any of you

Patton (11:34 PM): I just have a lot of feelings hehe

Patton (11:34 PM): Anyway… That’s it. I’m going to sleep now but I had to say it.

Patton (11:35 PM): I love you, dears!

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reeree1500 · 5 years

Text

The Return- Part 10

Disclaimer: YALL IM SO SO SO SORRY.😭😭 I have been horrible and not updated this story for at least a month.😬 I can explain though... University has been kicking my ass and between that and my co-op placement at a law firm.😅 Ive had absolutely no time to do anything😩 BTW IVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH❤️And Ive read all your messages and asks. And yes my mental health is now better and y'all are so understanding and supportive 💕 honestly could not have asked for a better group of individuals☺️❤️

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 11

Anyways onto the storyyyyy.....

Warnings: ANGSTY AF (kinda figured out that im probably a smut and angst writer at this point🤷🏽‍♀️), sucky ass grammar and spelling like always, my cliche imagination and the fact that Im probably a horrible human being😬😩 Also made it extra long cuz I felt baddd

PLEASE DONT KILL ME FOR THIS ONE😬

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @cutegyrl927 @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @cindy-exo @affection-rabbit @amy8220 @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch @supernaturalvikingwhore @ifihadwings128 @paintballkid711 @jenny-the-lover @funmadnessandbadassvikings @blonddnamedhandz @hallowed-heathen @pinkrockstar19 @ivarthethiccness

Sorry if I missed any of you💕 Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Also requests are open, and I’ve got a ton of them to do and finish. Hopefully Ill be able to post them soon enough

Arthur’s POV

“Arthur please! Open the door my love, I know what it may seem like to you, but I assure you that its not.” (Y/n) pleaded from the other side. I sat down on the mattress in our chamber contemplating whether or not it was true. Should I believe what my wife so desperately is trying to reassure me off. Or should I stick with my gut feeling and tell her how I have felt for the last 4 years. Her constant pounding on the door finally gets to me and I make my way to open it. “I wish to be left alone at the moment (y/n).” Her arms circle around my waist and I can feel her face wetting by back with tears. “Arthur please, talk to me. Why have you run off. You know that I love you. I do not want him, all he does is bring me pain and you take that away. So please, talk to me!” (y/n) murmurs into my back. As much as it pains me to do so I pry her hands off of me and sit us down on the bed. All I do is long for her touch, but this is not okay. I cannot keep feeling this way and go on pretending that I could have ever stood a chance against him. “(y/n), look at me. I love you and I always will. But its evident that you love him. and I honestly can say that I know I will never stand a chance against him, because the thought of you possibly running back to him has always been on my mind since the day we got married.”

Her eyes showed so much pain that confessing this felt as if I was driving a knife through her heart. “Arthur, I love you. What can I do to show you that. Yes I confess that I was in love with him, but that was long ago and I have left it in the past in order to build a future with you. Whom I love and who I share and will continue to share beautiful children with. So please don't shut me out, Arthur.” She says leaning our foreheads together and holding my face in her gentle hands. “Ok, however I want to be able to process things by myself. So I have decided to have the guest room across the hall prepared only until I figure things out.” With out giving her a chance to fight back, I place my lips on hers and savour the kiss as if it were our last. Meeting her eyes was something I wanted to avoid as I knew that just looking at her broken expression would make me change my mind. I hastily make my way out of the room, but sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find my wife staring off into the direction where I once sat. With tears streaming down her eyes...

Your POV

What had I done? Why was I such fool to not see what my husband was clearly going through? Millions of questions rushed into my mind about how to go about this situation. I loved Arthur, I was clear on that. But he spoke the truth, there was something in me that could not let Ivar go and it took hurting my husband and Ivar to figure that out. As I sulked I forgot about the doctor whom I had asked to see me earlier. I was having really bad stomach pains and my breasts were more tender then they had ever been. So I wanted to make sure that I was not sick, as that would have been the last thing I needed on my plate at the moment. “My Queen, are you alright? Do you wish to push back this appointment, I dont mind coming by later when you're better.” The doctor spoke from behind me. “Yes, it seems so. Ill let the servant girl know if I need you doctor. Im sorry for the inconvenience.” “Nonsense your majesty, it is my pleasure to serve you.” With a bow the doctor retreats from the room and Im left to my own thoughts once again...

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“(y/n), wake up... its seems that you fell asleep on the floor. Come on I’ll help you up.” Upon hearing Hvitty’s comforting voice my eyes flutter open and I cant help the tears that song come down my face like a cascade. “(y/n)! are you alright are you hurt anywhere? Why are you crying?” Hvitserk’s eyes scan my face and my body looking for the source of my pain, which is held in my heart, but he’ll never know that. “Arthur... He...” I try to find the words to say. “What! What did he do! Did he hurt you? I swear ill kill him!” With that Hvitserk tries to let me go and run out the door, but somehow I manage to stop him. “Hvitserk, No! He didn't hurt me. I hurt him... He believes that Im in love with Ivar, and I fear that their maybe some truth to it...” I say just above a whisper, with my head held low. “(Y/N), Ive known that since before you were married. It was obvious, but I would never say anything to you because I found that it was best if I kept such observations to myself, before I found out about your father.” Lifting my head and staring directly at him, I move my head to the side with a puzzling look. “What do you mean about my father, Hvitserk?” Hvitserk now mirrors the same lost look that I have on my face. “I thought thats why you and Ivar had gotten together, because Ragnar’s not your father...”

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Ivar’s POV

“Aghhhh!”Is the sound that comes out of my gritted teeth when the medicinal herbs are placed on my face. “That hurts like a bitch, get out! Ill do this myself if I have to. GO!” I yell at the servant girl who tried to cleanse and tend to the cuts on my face. “Ivar, please let the servants tend to you. I still cannot believe that Arthur punched you in the face. Hehehe, you deserved it though, how could you question the paternity of his children and not expect him to want to kill you?” Bjorn laughs as he chugs the rest of his drink down. “Well, if you actually cared about your children and the heir to your throne, you’d also be quite upset to find a Christian King claiming to be their father. Those children are mine! And its pretty evident, just look at Marjorie. She's my spitting image.” I snarl at him as the anger begins to rise in me again. “Ivar, thats your mistake and why you’ll never get (y/n) back. You believe that everything should be yours. And that people are things you can govern over, but they're not. Because those are children. And yes they may be yours, but you cannot take away what they have known because you want to be selfish.” He says with a stern look on his face, whilst getting up from his chair and making his way to the door. “Now get ready and fix yourself we have a intimate dinner to attend to with MY sister and the love of your life.” Unbeknownst to us, there was Freydis on the balcony listening to our whole conversation. And little did I know that it would come to be the thing I regretted the most.

At the dinner I notice (y/n) sit on the opposite side of the table from Arthur. This wouldn't have affected me if it wasn't for the look on both of their faces. They seemed distraught and broken. Arthur masked it well, but (y/n) was an open book for all of us to know exactly how she felt at that moment. Not much talking happened, besides Marjorie and Erik shouting at each other on who was better at riding. They reminded me a lot of myself and all I wanted was to tell them the truth, that they were my children and that they would go back to Kattegat with me to learn about the true gods and not the fable that had been told to them about their so called ‘God’.” “(Y/n) are you alright, you do not seem quite like yourself tonight.” Bjorn states with a concerned look that we all share. Even Arthur looks a bit concerned, but his body language makes it seem as if he is alright and nothing is wrong. “Sarah, could you please put Marjorie and Erik to bed? Its getting late for them and they have their lessons early in the morning.” She says with a stern and cold look in her (e/c) eyes. “Su...sure your majesty. “ At that Bjorn stands up as if to accompany Sarah, but is quickly stopped by (y/n)’s icy glare and venomous words. “Sit your ass down.” At that we all look astonished, but Hvitserk only stares at her with sadness and what seems to be sympathy. He must know why she is like this then.

Bjorn slowly sits back down on the table. A shocked look graces his face, as he cannot comprehend why she is acting this way towards her beloved older brother. “How long.” Is all she grits out through her teeth. “What do you mean, (y/n)?” My eyes meet Hvitserk’s own and the realization dawns upon me. She knows...

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Your POV

“Stop with the bullshit! I cannot take anyone else lying to me!” I scream as I bang my hands against the table, stunning everyone in sight. “How long did you know that Ragnar was not my father! How long have you kept the truth from me! How long have you known that Athelstan was my father!” I could careless about everyone staring at me as if I was a mad woman. I had been lied to my whole life. All I had known had been a lie, and the people who I trusted the most in this world had been the ones keeping it a secret from me. “(Y/N)... I..I’ve know since the moment you were born. But father had sworn me into secrecy and I could not break a promise. This doesn't change anything though. You are still my sister and you will always be.” Bjorn says in a haste as tries to come closer to me, but I step back and move as far back as I can. “Did you know? Tell me! Ivar did you know that we were not siblings!” Ivar didn't even have to answer. I knew from the look in his eyes that he too had been lying to me.

“I knew.” Arthur says staring right at me. “I knew that you weren't his daughter and I knew that Ivar wasn't your brother. But I kept that information from you because all I wanted to do was have you by my side. I’m sorry, for the pain I have caused you (y/n). Im sorry for being selfish and not telling you the truth, but I now see that I was wrong and as of tomorrow you are free to go back to your country. I promise that your title and lands will not be taken from you or from the children. May they be mine or his. But I cannot go on with this facade anymore.” Arthur says in the most calm demeanour as he stands up and comes to me. “You hypocrite! How dare you make me feel like shit for harbouring feelings for Ivar when you knew all along and knew that my whole life was a lie.” I scream as I run at him and slap him across the face. But before I can get another punch in I feel a strong grip holding me from behind. From the shocks and the utter feeling in my stomach I knew it could have only been Ivar. As I try desperately to release from his vice grip, my whole world comes crashing down when Sarah enters the room. With blood all over her.

“Your highnesses...Erik.... he.. he..” She tries to say through her shock. “What! What is wrong with my son!” Ivar, Arthur and I scream at the same time. “He.. he’s dying!”

------------------------------------------------

We all simultaneously run after Sarah towards the doctors quarters. Ivar with his brace on, manages to run faster than all of us and busts the doors wide open. if I wasn't so worried about my son or upset about the fact they all knew Ragnar wasn't my father, I would've been impressed. “What are you doing! Get away from my son!” At that Ivar rushes towards the doctor who is bleeding Erik out. Grabbing him by the collar he slams the doctor on the wall and his sclera go into bluish hue, showing that he is in danger of breaking a bone. “Ivar stop it! Let the man go, he is just trying to help.” “Help my ass! I will not let you harm my son, do you understand me! I will not let you harm him!” At that Ivar lets the doctor go, but not without staring him down. And the doctor looking like he is about to shit himself. Rushing to Erik’s side I notice something strange. The colour of his skin is now fading and his eyes have bags under them. But what hits me the most is the memory of Uncle Rollo teaching me about poison. “He doesn't need to be bled, he needs medicine. He’s been poisoned...”

“Mama! What is wrong with Erik! He will be okay right? He has to be okay!” Marjorie begins to say as she shakes with fear. Before Arthur or I could say something to console her, Ivar bends down and takes her hands in his. “Marjorie, listen to me. Your brother is a fighter and so are you. After all were related aren't we?” Ivar says as he lifts her chin. “Yes..I suppose that we are. Is it true what they say though? Are you our father?” At that Ivar turns to me looking towards me for permission. At this point I think to myself how hard it was to learn my whole life had been a lie and that I would not want that for my children, so I nod. “Yes, Marjorie I am your father. And no your mother is not my sister. It was something that we had to say because she needed to be kept safe.” He says ever so calmly. “Safe from who?”She questions “From my mother. Your grandmother.”

Cough*Cough* Spurts of blood cover me in seconds. My attention becomes focused in on my son again. “Where is the damn antidote! Please someone hurry!” At that Hvitserk runs into the room with a small green vial. “Here take this it should help him. Lagertha gave it to me before her and father left. Something about it would come in handy some day. Here.” Shoving the vial in my hands I open it quickly and lift Erik’s head. “Drink this Erik. It should help you, my darling. Please be strong, I know you're scared, but you’ll be alright ok. Everything will be ok.” I say through tears. Today had been the worst day by far. “Mira... please help my son. I know you're always with me, but please help me now. Pray for my son and ask God to save him.”

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A few hours had gone by and nobody had moved from the room. Arthur sat on the chair next to the bed with his elbows on his knees, looking straight and focused in on Erik. Bjorn and Hvitserk sat by the fireplace and were wetting some towels so that we could place them atop Eriks head. I sat on the bed next to my son and caressed his beautiful face hoping for a miracle. I had dismissed Sarah and told her to take Marjorie with her, but she would not budge. Sarah left, but Marjorie stayed and sat in Ivars lap asking him if Erik would pull through. Ivar was sweet to answer as best as he could, and I could tell that he truly cared for his children even if his demeanour wasn't the greatest. I knew that deep in my heart I would have to let him get to know them, but it still hurt especially knowing that he now was married. “Wait, where is Freydis? I haven't seen her since yesterday.” I say looking towards Ivar. “I dont know earthier to be honest, she's probably looking at some damn flowers anyway. Its best if she's far away anyway.” “Why would you say that about your wi-” “she's not my wife, at least not yet. Were not actually married, (y/n). I just said that to piss you off.” Taking a deep breath I go to stand up from the bed in order to fetch a bucket of water and some new cloths. Instead I end up on the floor cradling my belly, with a burning sensation in my chest and blood pouring out from my mouth. “(Y/n)! Mama!” I can hear the shouts around me. “Fetch the doctor! Now hurry!” The voices around me begin to fade and not before long I can feel myself drifting away.

“My baby... Save my baby...” And with that everything turns pitch black...

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 6 years

Text

A Harmless Crush ♡

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Assigned to the Winter Soldier by S.H.I.E.L.D to help him to accommodate to society, staying in the Avenger’s tower, and occasionally doing paperwork for STARK industries, you’ve grown close to James Buchanan Barnes, developing a crush on him in the process. So when you, reluctantly, tag along to a baseball game with the Avengers, and the kiss cam lands on you and Bucky, things get interesting.

A/N: idk but with all this Sebby Stan all over ig, I’m in the Bucky fluffy mood so and for once I’m gonna do a shy, bit of an introverted reader, explore that, so enjoy this mushy crap it’s so cute and lemme know what you think :) if you want a part two

Warning: super freaking soft, mild language cause it’s me, fluff to the max, you’ll get a toothache from the sweetness I swear

You step lightly into the Avenger’s living room, having been all but physically forced to go to this baseball game, to get out of the tower as they told you, but you refused to agree unless you could bring a book along with you. You had stuffed it in your small backpack, hanging loosely off one of your fuzzy, sweater clad shoulders, a cold day in spring. You roll up your sleeves to your forearms, sporting a pair of dark, high waisted jeans and converse along with it, Nat doing a small twirl with her finger to get you to spin for her.

“Cute. Very cute,” she wears a satisfied smile and you’re eyes are drawn over to Bucky, tucked in the corner of the room with his arms folded over his broad chest, keeping to himself, as do you. He wears his long, brunette hair back, tied in a bun, tendrils falling down the front and over his cerulean eyes, casted downwards at his scuffed, army boots, crossed over each other.

He senses a pair of eyes on him, something that has become second nature to him, the feeling of knowing when you’re being watched, but he looks up anyway, delightfully surprised to see your flushed face and e/c eyes looking over at him. Everything about you was soft, he thinks, your sweaters, your laugh, your eyes when you look at him, your smile, your heart, your features, no harsh lines or sharp angles, only soft curves and dips, like a watercolor painting gently done by someone who knew what they were doing. You’re a work of art, precious and untouchable, a Monet painting that’s even more beautiful up close. His own lips curve into a smile at the sight of you in your favorite outfit, causing you to bashfully look away, hiding in your best friend, Nat, feeling her vibrating laughter when you tuck yourself into her.

Clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention, Tony finally speaks up, “We’re all ready, great, let’s get going.”

Steve lays his hand on Stark’s shoulder to stop him for a moment, getting his attention, “Why don’t we walk there, Tony? It’s a beautiful day, it’s not that far, and we’re missing training to-”

“Shut. The. Hell. Up. Cap,” Sam says with a warning glare in the man’s direction, having been excited for his first day off in almost a month, wanting to savor every second of it.

“If you want to walk and damage a hip, Gramps, you can, but I’m taking the car, you all do what you want, just be there by 2:00,” Tony looks down at his mortgage payment of a watch. “Which is in thirty minutes.”

Everyone disperses and Nat is the first to ask what your plan is, instinctively making you look behind you to see what Bucky will do next, finding him already looking in your direction.

“Walk with me?” he mouths from across the room, waiting to walk over to you, just as shy as you when it came to this sort of thing, he was just better at hiding it. As he did with everything else.

You barely have time to think before you’re mouthing back, Okay, smiling against your better judgement. But the smile that lights up his face in return helps make the bundle of nerves in your stomach you get around him, almost nonexistent.

~~~

“I’m kind of surprised you wanted to walk with me,” he admits after a spell of blissful silence, accompanied by woodland creatures scurrying past, couples making small talk, and trees humming along with the tune of the wind.

You snort at the absurdity of his statement, “Why? I enjoy being with you,” you risk a glance at him and he’s meeting your eyes before you can mentally prepare yourself for the emotional turmoil you’re experiencing, deciding to back track. Deny, deny, deny. “Hanging out with you. Jesus. I sounded so creepy when I said that, didn’t I?” you let out a soft breath of laughter, fuck, fuck, fuck, running a hand through your hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.

He throws his head back with a rumbling laughter that doesn’t help the butterflies in your stomach or die them down any less, only adding fuel to the fire when his fingers intentionally brush against your arm. “You didn’t, I promise. You never sound creepy, I don’t think someone as adorable as you is capable.”

You smile, color filling your face, pressing a hand to your cheeks to calm the heat flooding there. It’s the cutest thing Bucky has ever seen. “Thank you.”

He looks you at you for a moment before speaking, “No problem, doll.” Then he laughs, “And, Y/N, did you even want to go to the game today?”

You love when he says your name, so much so you’ve suddenly gotten weak in the knees, the two of you slowly walking closer to each other, sides touching every so slightly, stepping in time, on the same beat, “Not at first, no, I don’t really do...”

“Big crowds?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“Social situations,” you finish instead, tucking hair behind your ear. “And, well, that, too.”

He chuckles deeply, sending vibrations from your head to your curled toes, fiddling with a loose strand from your sweater, twirling it around your finger, “I get it. So much... you have no idea.” He doesn’t have to say anything further for you to understand what he’s implying, glancing furtively at his vibranium arm.

You touch his metal arm and he turns towards you out of reflex, the only touches he’s gotten being ones that have intentions of inflicting pain on him, but your touch is gentle and not at all ill-willed, tracing the red star painted on it, feathery light with wide eyes. You take and drink him in instead of pushing him away. He’s a real life piece of a museum, you think, and you’re fascinated.

“I think your arm is pretty cool, actually,” you pull your hand back, his eyes watching your movements cautiously. It comforts you, almost, knowing he’s just as nervous as you are, possibly even more so. “Besides... you’re not your arm or what it symbolizes, you’re you, you’re Bucky.” You laugh and shake your head, giddy all of a sudden when you look at his awestruck expression, “If that makes any sense.”

“You really think that?” his pace slows as you two arrive at the stadium’s gates, your friends waiting just on the other side.

“Of course,” you say it simply.

“Damn, doll, I could kiss you right now,” he teases you, he does that a lot, teasing you as if he knows you wish it wasn’t just teasing, but you know that’s just how he is, flirty and boyish. You brought it out in him. You just didn’t know it yet.

“Tony wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you did,” you let him know, cursing yourself for playing along when you really need to change the subject before you spontaneously combust.

His hand presses into the small of your back when he sees the large crowds of people blocking the entrance, making you stiffen beneath him, something he notices and secretly revels in, “Ah, doll, but it’d be so worth it,” he whispers by your ear, and you feel the curl of his lips against your skin, the rumble in his voice.

“I don’t know, Stark can be pretty relentless,” you say, breath catching towards the end, when he pulls you to his side as someone almost runs into you, keeping you close. He looks behind him and glares at the man that almost pushed you down, muttering swear words under his breath.

“I can handle him,” he looks at where his hand is and you expect him to shy away, but he only grips tighter, “I’ll let go of you if you’d like.”

“No, no... you should keep doing it,” you move closer to him as you walk, locking eyes with him and he smiles, raising his eyebrows. “For safety reasons.”

“We don’t want you getting trampled, kitten,” he grins boyishly, crinkles by his eyes making a dominant appearance. “I like you in one piece if it’s all the same.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” you play along with an equally bright smile, looking ahead of you at your smirking friends, Clint tracing a heart around the two of you and Sam rolling his eyes so hard you’re sure he’s pulled something.

Steve and Nat cast knowing glances to each other, conspiring, no doubt. Tony gives you his best overprotective dad look and Bucky slips his hand to rest on your back once again, looking to you when everyone begins walking to the seats.

You all get to your seats, at the highest level in box seats, thanks to Stark, and the game looks as if it’s about to start. You sit down in one of the middle seats, Nat sitting on one side of you and Bucky down on the other, leaning back in his seat to get comfortable. He smiles at you when you look over and you’re met with a smirk from Nat, smug as hell.

“Don’t,” you lean back in your chair.

“Don’t what?” she leans forward to stare at you, lifting an expert eyebrow, years of practice, she’s so good at that, not letting any emotion appear in her expression, just calculated precision. She shows you what she wants you to see. “Let Bucky know you have the fattest cru-”

“Romanoff!” you clamp a hand over her mouth and she nips at your skin, causing you to pull your hand back, shaking it out.

She smiles knowingly, “I’m sure he already knows, anyway.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Only time will tell, Y/N, enjoy the game,” her eyes glitter with ulterior motives that spark something, the match to the gasoline. She’s done something.

“Nat,” you lean towards her. “Nat, what the hell did you do?”

She ignores you, only gifting you a smile as an answer, and you’re forced to sit back in your seat, your hand right next to Bucky’s.

“Good afternoon, New York!” the announcer rolls out, voice as loud as booming thunder followed by equally thunderous laughter and applause, reminding you of an old friend of yours. “We have a very special group of guests here with us today, say hello and give a warm welcome to them for our stadium, the Avengers!”

“How cheesy,” you cross your legs, earning a light snort from Bucky, about to pull out your book to read and escape into until you see the jumbo-tron displaying you and your friends, zooming in on Sam, Clint, and Steve.

“I thought you said we were trying not to attract any attention,” Nat side-eyes Tony.

“I lied,” Tony smile, already fixing his hair.

“What do you say, folks, we make some sparks fly and put the kiss cam on a lucky couple?” the obnoxious announcer asks the crowd, earning an uproar of agreement that only amuses Tony.

The kiss cam lands on Clint and Sam for a brief moment, Clint leaning in, “Come on, boo bear.”

Sam looks at him, expression as blank as canvas, “No.”

The audience reacts with bubbling laughter, the camera falling on Natasha and Tony next. Tony has his arms spread out on either side of him with his legs crossed, subtly sliding his jet black shades down the bridge of his nose like he can’t be bothered when he sees the camera, “Oh, hi, didn’t see you there, I’m T-”

“Shut up,” Nat shoots him down with only a stare, flipping off the camera, barely glancing in its direction.

You shriek when it starts turning and instinctively tuck yourself into Bucky, him having pulled up the arm rest just before, he lets out a quiet OOF when you barrel into him, wrapping his arms around you to steady you, keeping you close. Your head buried in his chest, hoping you could just stay here for the rest of the time with no further complications.

“Doll... I might regret asking this, but what are you doing?” he whispers in your hair, just above the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry, I panicked. I don’t like being the center of attention, not to mention an entire baseball stadium full of attention,” you whisper, muffled into his shirt.

“Then I hate to tell you, kitten, but the cam is on us right now,” he mutters and you extract yourself from out of his arm to see the entire stadium looking in the two of you’s direction, all collectively sucking in one breath.

“I think we’ve found our lucky couple, ladies and gentlemen! But, aw, they look shy, let’s give them a little encouragement, shall we?”

KISS, KISS, KISS!

“Doll,” Bucky whispers to you, both of you looking at each other and perhaps, if it weren’t for your anxiety riddled nerves at the moment, you’d kiss him yourself, for that nickname and stare alone. “We don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t know if we’d get away with that.”

His cheeks are filled with bright shades of scarlet, you almost want to laugh at that, the Winter Soldier, blushing because of you. It brings a smile to your face looking at it, and your hands are now touching, close enough to him for you see the shadows of his face and the stubble on his jaw. How gold flecks line his blown irises, tinged with icy blue and quartz.

“I’ll just kiss your cheek, then, is that alright?” he asks, tentatively, moving only slightly closer as the crowd grows impatient. You nod slowly.

He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your jaw, missing your cheek and you feel his lips curl against your skin at the way your face heats up beneath him, gripping his hand.

“You seem to have enjoyed that,” he whispers by your ear once again.

“Come on, lovebirds, give us a real kiss! We won’t leave you alone until you do it,” and the chanting rises up again, started up by your instigating friends.

“To be honest, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” he mumbles, his chest rising and falling, eyes trained on your mouth.

“For what to happen?” you say, but he doesn’t hear you, and it might as well be summer, you’re burning under your clothes, forehead laden with nervous sweat and you’re lost for breath.

He half smiles, “Me kissing you.”

You grin, burning brightly, about to question it further until you’re drowned out by the rest of the stadium, in need of their fix of drama you haven’t yet supplied them with. Bucky finally just slides his hand to the back of your neck, cradling your head in the palm of his hand, tangling fingers in your hair when he pulls you to him, his lips colliding with yours, simply, completely, and mind-numbingly well.

The crowd cheers but you’ve drowned them out, hearing only the loud thumping of blood pounding in your ears, his calloused hands on your skin, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. And you know you need to pull away, but the man is taking you apart and putting you back together all at once, you’re frozen in place. He’s reached into your chest and has made your heart beat for you when it has stopped on its own. The questions that have plagued your mind in the months of knowing the ex-assassin, all finally answered with one painfully complicated action.

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and traces a star into your skin, marking you as his, like the one on his arm, taking his time to kiss you sweetly and as masterfully as possible. And his tongue, his tongue, sinfully drawing over your bottom lip and luring out your own, fighting for dominance that you’ve already given unto him. You’ve fallen into and for him, unable to resurface. But you’re not sure you want to. Because there’s a reason it’s falling in love, it’s sudden, abrupt, and scary, and it’s just hit you now how seriously and far you’ve fallen. It’s the grand canyon of loves.

And the kiss was only thirty seconds.

The applause that follows you breaking away with a gasp is close to deafening, Nat being one of the loudest right by your ear, but you’re staring at him, his swollen, pink mouth, flushed cheeks, and mussed up hair, busy and ruffled from your wandering hands.

“Now, that is what I’m talking about, ladies and gentlemen. Give it up for the loving couple! That was one steamy kiss.”

“Indeed it was,” Nat says smugly, smirking to herself.

He searches your eyes and smiles apprehensively, reaching out to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip, trying to make sure this really happened, “I think we need to talk.”

You nod quickly, “I think we do.”

You were so fired.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #marvel fanfiction #Avengers infinity war #avengers #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #sweet #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #story #i cant with this #sweetness #fluffy

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allbeendonebefore · 5 years

Note

okay this was like a LONG while ago but I found it when I was just going through your pc tag one night. You had a playlist for Edgary and one for monmonton on Spotify; do you still have those by chance?? I like to listen to music when I write and I’d love to listen to those playlists if you have them!

lemme know if these links dont work because i’ve not really shared much on spotify hahahahaha

ALSO i don’t really go through and edit these diligently, so there may be songs i haven’t removed that i’ve meant to or songs that i just added because i wanted to look them up later etc etc. There also may be songs by Hedley still on there that I keep because I love the songs but I have to skip them when they come up because I don’t want to contribute stats/money to the band.

If there’s something that should or shouldn’t be there give me a shout. I try to have a large percentage of songs by artists from the cities concerned but sometimes I have to disregard that ‘rule’. I’m adding things all the time and I do take recommendations. If you hear a song and go “why” just ask.

Argh Monmonton There are a few songs that aren’t on spotify. There’s a few I got through the public library, so they may be difficult to find. You can stream them from EPL’s Capital City Records but you’ll need a library card to download them (or a generous Edmontonian... wink wink) The three songs on the album by Columbus linked there are tracks 4-6: Behind the Wheel, French Dorm, and Alone Together. Another Capital City Records song is Into the Deep by Death By Robot. There’s a couple Acres of Lions songs that didn’t make it on there including Let’s Get Sentimental and This Was Not My Best Day Ever. There might be a couple other songs on there you can probably google if you see them.

Uh Oh Edgary I have a bias because I listen to way way way more bands from Edmonton/that have associations with Edmonton than I do with Calgary lol. There’s also some things from Capital City Records linked above including a couple more tracks from Columbus (Tracks 8-9: Find the Time and Can’t Let Go) and one song from Bombproof the Horses (Track 2: Springtime in My Hometown). I also just noticed that Dance Sequence by Acres of Lions is the one song of theirs that isn’t on Spotify which sucks because it is the song of theirs that is like... The Most Edgary, and I have a lot of their songs on there.

Monmongary?! This is a playlist that either is songs that aren’t necessarily about one person or they’re angsty love triangle bs. Some of them are just there for the Maximum Gay Moods (mika............ its mika). As far as i can tell they’re all there. It’s not a super long list.

The Mongary This actually started out as a joke playlist so there are songs that were meant to be on there purely because they’re stupid (i.e. Taylor Swift’s Hey Stephen is on there because Stephen is just the anglicized version of Étienne) BUT there are some actual intentionally thoughtful songs hidden there. American’t by Death by Robot linked above is through EPL. Also missing is Do the Right Thing by The Dudes.

e n j o y

#hapo replies #it is the edgary #it is the monmonton #it is the mongary #it is the monmongary #music #spotify #meme-too

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 13)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: None Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 2,221

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

This chapter is twice as long as the usual ones but y’all deserve it after my hiatus for a while there. Look forward to some once-a-week updates for a while!

Chapter Summary: Nadiya makes an observation. Mary Sage cracks a code. Remy gets a letter.

__________________

"How far does this go?" Remy squinted down the tunnel. The yellow light from Nadiya's flashlight was dim and watery in the complete darkness.

"Long ways," Nadiya said absently. "Like, fifteen miles, I think. At least. Until it gets gross. There's entrances all along, though, closest one is only a mile or two along..."

Remy frowned, glancing sideways at Nadiya. She'd seemed kind of distracted since she'd woken up. "You okay, Nad?"

She scowled at him. "I'm fine, Rembrandt. None of your business, so fuck off."

"It's kind of a little my business," he argued. "What if you have a concussion or something? What if you get sick? What if -"

"I'm fine," Nadiya snapped. "Excuse me if I'm a bit upset about my life's work either being destroyed or being sold indiscriminately by people who have no rights to it." She glanced behind them. Kardala and Mary were trailing a bit behind, Kardala illuminating the tunnel with a handful of blue lightning. "If there's anyone you should worry about, it's them."

"What? Why?"

"Maybe not Kardala so much, but she's been acting weird. Irene-y. Look." Nadiya jerked her head back again, and Remy looked. Kardala said something to Remy that he couldn't hear over the crackle of the lightning, then grinned, and Mary snorted in laughter. "And then Mary Sage..." Nadiya trailed off.

"Is she okay?"

"Depends what you mean by that." Nadiya swept the flashlight beam across the tunnel floor, sending a cockroach scuttling away. Remy yelped, but Nadiya didn't react. "Relax," Nadiya said, annoyed. "Haven't you seen a cockroach before?"

"N...o," Remy admitted, a little sheepishly. "You have?"

"I've been down here before," Nadiya reminded him, "and when you're a broke grad student, you end up living in some interesting places. Plus, I've dissected cockroaches before. Pretty boring, really."

Remy made a face. "Still. Gross."

"Coward," Nadiya said, but amiably enough that it didn't hurt his feelings. "Anyways, on the subject of Mary Sage. I think relatively speaking, she's doing okay, more or less. It's just... overall? I don't know." The sound of her laughter drifting up to them again. "I don't know, Remy," Nadiya said quietly, and for the first time since he'd met her, Remy thought Nadiya sounded concerned. "I wish I could've used my lab. Maybe I could figure out if there was something about my stimplants that genuinely fucked with her head. I keep... fuck, I keep thinking through all my experiments with them, the stuff I did on myself, everything. I can't think of how it could've gone wrong. Or maybe it wasn't the stimplants, and she's just -" Nadiya broke off. "Anyways. Fuck if I know."

Remy's fingers were tapping a rapid tattoo on his thigh as he tried not to fidget with the bandage around his wrist. "It's not your fault," he said.

"Sure." Nadiya was looking surly again. "If this doesn't end with me getting a lot of money in compensation, I'm going to be pissed." She picked up the pace, leaving Remy a few steps behind.

For once, he didn't mind being on his own. He had to think. He felt like there was an answer to – something – just beyond what he could figure out. If his brain would stop jumping around for one second, he'd be able see what it was.

He knew it had something to do with the laptop. It had to. He should've decoded it before. He should've tried harder. It might be too late, now, it might not matter, but he had to try. It had to be something.

When they stopped to rest, Remy went over to Mary. "Hey."

She was eating a power bar. "Hey."

"You're good with computers, right?"

"Yeah. Thought you were too, nerd."

Remy grinned. "I'm IT. I don't do coding, I just fix problems. Anyways, I have this... thing... that I could use some help with. You down?"

"Why not? Lemme at it."

They both sat down against the wall, and Remy, after a furtive look around that revealed nothing except Nadiya (staring at the brick as if she could vaporize it with heat vision) and Kardala (staring contemplatively into her handful of lightning). Then he pulled out the laptop and booted it up.

Mary whistled. "That a ten-bit encryption?"

"I don't know," Remy admitted. "I know I need to get into it, though. Can you crack the encryption?"

"Yeah, probably. I can try. Where'd you get this, anyways?" Mary asked, taking the laptop and starting to tap into it, her hair lifting slightly as her powers activated.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"Guess not. Whatever." Mary's typing became more rapid. "Damn. This is deep. Whoever it was must've been a sick coder. Cyber security or something."

Remy shifted uncomfortably, searching for any other subject. "Have you told Nadiya you like her yet?" he blurted.

"God, Jump Boy, keep it down," Mary hissed, her head jerking up to look at Nadiya, but it was clear she hadn't heard. "'Course not, are you kidding? We're in a fuckin'… sewer, on the run, and you think that's a good time to tell Reed McScienceface Richards that I got a crush? Not a chance in hell."

"I dunno, I think it's a great idea," Remy said. "It's like, who knows what's going to happen next, right? So why not go for it?"

"You think she wants something like that right now?" Mary said, jerking her head back towards the computer screen and shoving her glasses up on her nose, squinting through them at the lines of scrolling code. "No fuckin' way. Nah, I'm, uh... not gonna put that on her. We're both dealing with our own shit. I'm not dumping mine on her as well. Wouldn't be fair."

"If you want to look at it that way, we're always going to have our own shit," Remy said, shrugging. "Right? It's not just going to go away."

"Maybe." Mary's fingers slowed slightly in their frantic typing. "But... I don't wanna fuck this up. I'm only gonna get one shot at it, right? And -" She suddenly froze as the computer screen blinked white. "Holy shit. I think I got it."

Remy snatched the laptop out of her hands. His heart revved to racing speed. Please let this actually be something, he thought. Not just another red herring. Please let this tell me something about what happened to them.

The screen blinked a few times, then a single folder popped up. Read This First, one of the documents said.

"Remy?" Mary said. "You look weird. You okay?"

He clicked on it.

Dear Remy, dear Michael, the file read. I'm hoping it's one of you reading this. If you are, it means I'm gone. It means she found me – us – out. And it means you're in terrible danger. But you have to know everything. Ignorance is always a worse fate than knowledge.

Remy scrubbed at his eyes. That was what she used to say to them when they complained about homework. God, he missed her so much. Then he kept reading.

When your father and I were younger, we did some work for the government. Secret stuff. Research on hypnosis, and anti-terrorism, but mostly on a new science we called... bonds. These bonds are what holds everything in the universe together, connecting each person or thing to anything else. You've learned about ionic and covalent bonds in biology; these aren't that different, really. More powerful. Or maybe just easier to exploit.

We weren't the only ones working on this project. There was another woman on our team. Her name was Martine.

"Remy?" Mary sounded scared. "Remy, what is it?"

I didn't quite trust her from the beginning. She seemed too interested, not just academically. She was a biochemist, a neurologist who specified in hormone study. She managed to create a heightened form of oxytocin that strengthened the bonds, creating artificial ones between small groups of people. She could manipulate them, control certain aspects of their bodies or even their minds. Our supervisors grew worried, and one day, they unexpectedly shut down the entire project. All three of us were out of a job.

We kept in touch. Your father and I got married, started research at our lab in Maryland. Remember, I showed you boys around one time? Michael, you were born, and then you a few years later, Remy. We were happier than we could ever remember. We were glad that our project got shut down.

Martine wasn't.

She moved down to Florida, but I would still e-mail with her sometimes. She was my friend. I wanted to trust her, especially then, when she was my only other connection to that time in my life, something I could talk about with no one except her and your father. That was my own fault, I suppose. I should've known better. I did know better. You're like me, Remy. We always want to believe the best of people.

Martine was continuing her research, outside of government approval. I didn't turn her in, of course; she wasn't breaking confidentiality, just expanding into her own field, or at least that's what I thought. Then, when you were about ten, I got a worrying message from her. She was excited - she'd found someone who shared her ambitions. They were working together to expand her ideas. I could read between the lines, though. He was a fanatic, a revolutionary who was the perfect person to enable her increasingly dangerous research. Still, I didn't think much of it. She had no way to implement any of her ideas. I kept e-mailing with her, keeping tabs on what she was doing.

Then everything changed.

It was only three days ago, three days before I'm writing this, but by the time you read this - I don't know. I'm so sorry, Remy. Right before the Olympics, too. The worst possible timing. Martine called me. She was so excited, but I heard the edge to her voice that made me worry. She said she'd just read some revolutionary new research on body modification, published by a young academic, a wildly precocious young woman named Nadiya Jones from a university in Nevada.

"Mary?" Remy said, almost unaware his mouth was moving. "Get Nadiya and Kardala. Now. Please."

Martine believed that the combination of her altered oxytocin (made much more stable over years of experimentation) and these stimplants could create people with superhuman abilities, connected with each other, and more importantly, with her. She believed, in essence, that she could create an army of supersoldiers under her control. She and Richard could use them to force the revolution they wanted. She mentioned in passing that he wasn't completely on board yet - something about wanting a fair election - but it was clear that she didn't think that would work, and there was no question that they would need to resort to her plan.

After so many years of keeping my mouth shut, I couldn't anymore. I told her exactly what I thought of that plan. Things got ugly. She threatened me. She threatened you two. I hung up on her mid-rant, but the damage was done.

She knows where we live. She knows where I work. I don't know what she's going to do, and I don't know how to stop her.

If you're reading this, either of you, hopefully it means it's not too late. Use this information. Use the information from our research years ago on bonds. I know this is so much to put on you, but I'm praying still that this finds its way into your hands. Who else could I trust?

I'm so sorry. Not only for putting this burden on you, but for not acting sooner. I was afraid, not of Martine, but of destroying my relationship with her, however toxic it was. I thought I would be able to see this coming, stop it before it got to this point. I wanted to believe Martine would never go to these lengths. But she's more powerful than ever, maybe even more than I know.

I love you both. I hope you'll never read this. I hope I'll be able to delete this document and forget it ever existed. Just in case, though, all the research your father and I did on bonds all those years ago is on this computer as well. DO NOT SHOW THIS TO ANYONE YOU WOULD NOT TRUST WITH YOUR LIFE. I made that mistake once, and don't want you to repeat it.

If it isn't the two of you reading this, whoever you are, please use this information for good, or destroy it. If it is, I trust your hearts. Good luck. Your father seals this with his love as well.

Love,

Mom (Christine Rembrandt)

Remy was crying in earnest now, the screen blurry in front of his eyes. He scrubbed at his face with the edge of his hoodie sleeve. As much as he wanted to curl up and not move for a few minutes – or preferably a few days – he didn't have that luxury.

"Guys?" he said, glancing up to see his three friends crowded around him, varying degrees of worry on their faces. "We have a real big problem." He took a shuddering breath. "You need to hear this..."

#taz #taz commitment #taz fanfiction #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #mary sage #space cadet #christopher rembrandt #remy #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #mine #HAVE SOME PLOT #THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD CHAPTER TO WRITE #we're really getting into it now

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gayfrenchtoast · 3 years

Text

Part 2!

So if you haven't seen pt 1 it is here or in the vent tag on my blog

Continuing on! After I revived that text I lost my fucking m i n d over so many points in it, and I'm not gonna describe it to you, I'm gonna show you the result of my message after I took his message into Google docs and made a response to every point so long that when I sent it back it had to be split into multiple messages. Any additions or changes will again be in red ;

-----------------------------

Whatever (sister) has told me is none of your business and don't you date interrogate her about it when she gets back, you may not think you’re doing it but I don’t want her scared into not being able to open up to us. She's said nothing that I know myself is not likely the truth, if anything she excuses your behaviour because she doesn't know much better.

I do not agree with your "proportion to the offence" you do not even need to yell at the kids, getting down on their level and talking with them would be a much better teaching method than terrifying them and teaching them to be scared of you. Regardless you yell so much it hardly ever feels like you are ever yelling in proportion to a particular offence it just feels like you are yelling because of your own mood and it teaching nothing but to tiptoe around you, avoid you and lie to avoid your wrath. If you're yelling to "set boundaries" the only boundaries you set are massive ones away from your children that you then act like they aren't even there.

Yes because they're children and don't know any better. They're innocent and don't know what going or what they're going through isn't normal much like I didn't.

I do not deny my need for therapy, in fact, I am actively in search of therapy thank you for your concern and causation of that, however my need for therapy does not negate your need for it, perhaps if you had it you'd see why I feel this way though I doubt you'd ever seek it out because for some reason you believe you are a good person and a good dad and I knew going into this you'd never believe me or believe you were any different.

I know you loved me, it does not change the fact you had a shit way of showing it snd the fact your actions did affect me. And being annoyed at me because you care is a funny way of showing your love for someone.

I do admit I find it funny that the only examples you can provide of me big happy with you are when I was a very young child that didn't know any better and I worry if you can't see past the times where I was filled with childhood innocence and not after it was destroyed because you, again, made me hate myself. I don’t believe you are listening to me because I think you've glazed over things like how you told me I was stupid and selfish and wanted to hurt you which made me hate myself and think I was a bad person when I was only a child that didn't know any better. If you think that kind of stuff doesn’t affect a child I don't think you will ever get better.

Oh yeah, it does make things easier for you to blame things on the divorce, doesn’t it? Lemme shut that down right now; no. if anything it helped me get away from you.

And I think it’s unfair for you to treat your children the way you do but we don't get what we want all the time it seems. I'm sorry you feel I have to apologise for something I didn't do, as I said before o am happy to be used as a scapegoat, if (his finace) wants to blame me for (her daughter) getting back into something she never stopped doing then that's your problem and if now you want to blame me too it really is your problem!

Everyone? If you've told others about this that is also your problem and I'd say it's a wonder they are wondering since they know you but you do surround yourself with people like you so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.

Fuck you, don’t you dare talk about my Mothers, the only good parents I have ever had, that way. Don’t you dare try and talk shit about my mother's, my mums don't need to talk shit about you because the only one that ever starts any of that kind of stuff is me! I don't need prompting! I know who you are, I worked that out myself, and if anything they've done nothing but encourage me to have a relationship with you and give you chances because you're my dad but if I didn't want to they weren't going to push me or force me which is so much more than I can say you have done in relation to them. I do not need to assign "too much meaning" to events, I was there! I felt them! Do not assume that I am some stupid child who just miss-remembering things, not only am I fucking not but there are way too many, way too much repetitive behaviour, way too much I had to learn to go through life to be just misremembering anything, not only that but repeating events, verbatim, to other people has confirmed that all of that shit was fucked up. I am sure you're fuming reading this paragraph, I'm sorry you feel that way, but not going to hold back anymore because how fucking dare you.

Do not try and emotionally manipulate me with the "Does it mean nothing, all the work I have done for you?" line, frankly that's weak manipulation for you, but considering all you've done to me in the past, how that affects me and how you've implied I'm crazy in this message, aNo. You feeding me and putting a roof over my head is rendered null. And god forbid I end up a dad like you, that has been one of my biggest fears for years, part of my mental breakdowns in college was me being scared if I had children I'd fall into being like you, continuing the cycle of abuse. I may not even have children purely because I'm afraid of turning out like you. Oh and thanks for preparing me to be an adult dad, the anxiety you gave me made me have a panic attack when I tried to register at a doctors in (uni town), good fucking job.

I've been feeling strange to you ever since I realised how you treated me was wrong, so since high school? Don’t think this is a recent thing and don't think this is anything but me seeing things for how they really are because they're not, I've had a long time to analyse that.

I can’t believe you called your dad a good dad and then talked about how you were a bit better than your dad was in the same paragraph. Congrats on your "Not as shit as you could have been" award. Perhaps if you went to therapy you might see how you’re not as different as you should be proud of than your dad. I remember you telling a story of him trying to tell you to drive which caused grandma to cry in the car, you should see that's fucked up. That's the only story I have of him and it’s not a good look.

Here's an easy one for you; when you're stressed, don't take it out on your children! And if you've only shouted when you were stressed you were stressed a disproportionate amount. Maybe that's something you should work on, in therapy. And this bit "Being a parent is stressful. Being one who really cares is really stressful." Is shit. Seriously? You're blaming me for you yelling at me? Do you even realise you're doing this? In case you don't realise it this is manipulation. And again just because you were stressed didn't mean you had the right to take it out on me, even if to you it was just because you cared about me.

I'm sorry you f e e l t h a t w a y

This last paragraph is a doozy

"Please don't let the past dominate your feelings for the present. For your sake" again implying how your actions have hurt me is my fault, I know you won't believe me but all the fault lays with you.

"If you have anxiety and depression it will be your choice to recover" this line really got me, it sounds like you're blaming me for my own mental health problems, implying that how I feel is a choice and that I am not actually trying to help myself. I am very much helping myself and this is part of that, something you almost acknowledged in the next sentence in the same paragraph!

The fact is you are so arrogant and up your own ass that you think you're always right everyone else is always wrong and you are the greatest person in any given room when in reality you are a presumptuous asshole whose perspective on the world worries me and who's parenting style is emotional and mental abuse and manipulation and now I've broken out of it I am not afraid of you anymore so I can tell you this; fuck off you arrogant ass, leave me alone, treat your children better at least, I’m not gonna ask you to improve anymore because I know you won't. Have fun playing house and making yourself think you're the best man in the world but I'm not gonna tell you you are anymore cus I don't have to! Get, and I have wanted to say this to you for so many years, fucked!

-----------------------------

So as you can tell, I snapped. One could say I snapped when I finally told him he was the problem but this, this was me snapping. This was me being donezo. This was me finally getting my cathartis and you know what? I deserved it. And I am so happy I did.

So happy fathers day! Happy fathers day to my fucking dad, one of the biggest pluages on my life and the man who made the worst part of who I am today! Good job! If you ever see this father, I have one thing to say to you and I think you know what it is

Fuck you, fuck off and go ffuuuuuck yourself!

#abuse tw #tw abuse #tw vent #vent #ramble

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deanssweetheart23 · 7 years

Text

Always

Title: Always (MOC!Dean. Part 1)

Summary: Dean didn’t really know what being in love felt like until he met her; the girl with the soulful eyes and the brilliant smile that waltzed into his life when he was twenty-four and ended up being his entire world. So, he stood by her through thick and thin, until one day, he realized that the only way to keep her safe was to keep her away from him. But would he really be able to let her go?

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: MOC!Dean x reader, Castiel (briefly), Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Metatron (all briefly mentioned)

Word count: 4849

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Very light smut (trust me guys, it’s very light). Language. Mentions of death, loss of parents, grief, mentions of tortures and blood (nothing graphic).

Author’s Notes: This is my sumbission for @thevioletthourr Fif’s Milestone Challenge. Fif, thank you so much for letting me participate and for granting me the extension I needed, I fell in love with this story and wanted to do it justice.

Special thank you to @ravengirl94 for reading parts of it over for me and being such an amazing friend. If it weren’t for her support, I wouldn’t have finished this story..

My prompt for this fic was Save Yourself by Kaleo (which is the most beautiful song ever and has Dean’s name all over it). The story is set during S10 (right after ep.10, “The Hunter Games”). Original flashbacks and some Metatron lines from the show are included in italics. (Oh, and part 2 wil be posted in late September).

Again, thank you all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3

Dean had always loved moments like this.

He loved holding Y/N close, loved the way their heartbeats vibrated in each other’s bones, the way he could trace veins and scars and freckles with his fingertips or his mouth or his tongue, the way her skin felt against his, solid muscles blending with softness.

He loved the quietness of the room, how it was painted in even breaths and dusty promises, the dim-light of the star-freckled sky sneaking through the open windows and skating down Y/N’s form, just smudges of glow on bare skin.

“So,” Y/N’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts as Dean kept her tucked against him, all fingers and thumbs and lips, “are you going to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

“Like what exactly, sweetheart?”

Turning to look at him, she perched herself on one elbow, big, wide eyes sweeping over every feature of his face gingerly.

“Like I’m…” Deep breath. “Like I’m going to vanish into thin air.”

And Dean wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth, to kiss her lips and let all the things that were hurting him come tumbling out of his mouth, to wrap himself around her all over again and never let go but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because he knew what the right thing was, and he loved her too much to get her killed and it was too goddamn late.

So, instead, he pressed his lips on her forehead in a sweet kiss, then pulled away and smiled at her, looking for love and redemption into her Y/E/C orbs.

“No reason…” he whispered, rumbling into her hair. “I just…”

I need you.

I’m going to miss you.

I’m sorry.

I’ll never be the same without you.

“I love you. You know that, right?” he said at last, wrecked and scraped and just a bit shadowy.

She smiled.

It twisted the knife deeper into his already shattered heart.

“I love you too.” She told him, lacing her fingers with his. “Always.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “yeah, I know, kid.”

She grinned at him then, warm and pleased and relieved, stretching up to kiss him, and he sank into it and kissed her like he’d never kissed her before, praying for the moment to last.

It didn’t.

When they broke off, breathless and sated, she looked at him once more, brows furrowed into a deep frown and forehead puckered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she implored and he swore he could hear the concern bleeding into her voice.

And he should have said no, should have stopped himself from lying to her again, but he had no other choice.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He replied, kissing her brow. “Now stop worrying so much and just lemme hold you.”

Chuckling a bit at his words, she let out a content sigh and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in until she couldn’t keep her eyelids open anymore, not knowing that Dean laid awake next to her, her vow echoing soundlessly in his mind.

I love you too.

Always.

And it was nothing but a small utterance, seven letters set in arbitrary order, but the sound of it falling from her lips made Dean’s soul ache and he knew.

That word was going to haunt him forever.

“Are these fuzzy shocks?” Dean cackled with a gapped mouth stare, pointing towards Y/N’s feet, clad in a pink pair of punch socks.

“Yup.”

“You wear fuzzy socks to bed?”

“Do you want me to put the freezing feet on you again?” Y/N asked, head titled and fingers spread.

“Nope.”

“Then, yes, I’m wearing fuzzy socks to bed.” She told him, lifting her chin. “Now scoot over.”

The eldest Winchester chuckled at her words, mumbling a breathless yes, ma’am under his breath, and watched as she climbed into the covers and laid on her side to face him, bright orbs peering at him through long eyelashes while she clutched at the blanket they were supposed to share.

God, she was beautiful.

“This is okay, right?”

It was soft and sweet, a genuine concern that sunk into his skin and made him feel lightheaded and he realized, maybe for the first time, that he wasn’t the only one who felt that pull between them, that flooring and fascinating spark.

She felt it too and he wasn’t ready to give that up.

So, he let his fingers skim across her hipbone, and pulled her just a little closer, half-smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“More than, sweetheart. I’m just…” he sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to collect his seemingly scattered thoughts, “I still don’t know how to thank you for tagging along.”

“Don’t. I’m here because I want to, D.”

“I know but-”

“No buts. You’re… We’re gonna figure this out together.” She promised and he beamed at her, actually beamed, awe and wonder floating across his face.

“Kid, I don’t know what I’ do without you.”

“Well,” she started, lips twitching in delight, “you’d get laid, for one thing.”

He laughed at that, rich and loose, eyes sparkling with golds and greens in the dim light of the room.

“Hey, I’m serious. That chick at the bar just wouldn’t stop staring.”

“Yeah, I kinda like you better.” He whispered softly, playfulness and honesty blending in his tongue as he raked his fingers through her hair. “Must be the socks.”

She smiled at him then, that lively smile Dean couldn’t stop thinking about, and he drank in the breathy whispers and the tousled limbs and the way her soulful Y/E/C eyes shined brighter than anything he’d ever seen before, and he thought that, yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

She was beautiful when she was asleep.

Granted, she was always beautiful, but the way she looked when youth and serenity took over, innocent smiles and steady heartbeats clothing her, made Dean’s heart swell with nothing but love and tenderness, because she trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him, trusted him enough to feel content and safe in his arms.

The thought wrapped around his heart like a poisonous vine and drained all its blood, leaving cells hollow and atoms weathered and, for a moment, he let himself wonder what would happen if he changed his mind, if he woke her up and told her the truth.

She’d be pissed at him, he was sure. She’d yell and curse and call him names for thinking that he could just walk away like that, but she wouldn’t stay mad at him for too long.

She’d understand.

She always did.

When he sold his soul for his brother, she understood. When he laid awake at nights after Sam jumped into the pit to save the world, staring at the ceiling in silence, she understood. When he was angry and mad and thirsty for revenge after Dick Roman killed Bobby, she understood. When he brought Benny back with him from Purgatory, when he agreed to take the Mark of Cain to kill Abaddon, when he faced Metatron on his own, she understood, no matter how hard and painful it was.

So, she would understand now too. She’d wrap her arms around him, and kiss the corner of his mouth and tell him that they’d figured it out together like they had done so many times in the past and then she’d whisper to him that she loved him and had chosen him and would do it all over again if she had to.

He wouldn’t have to go.

He wouldn’t have to leave her.

She wouldn’t have to have her heart broken.

But real life didn’t work that way.

His life didn’t work that way.

Not with all the blood in his hands, all the people he’d lost through the years, family and friends that were careless enough to believe in him.

Metatron was right; the Mark was changing him.

He could feel it.

He could feel its darkness seeping into his skin, its evilness rushing through his veins, turning him into a monster he didn’t want to be.

It was always there in alarmed glances Sam threw his way when things got a bit out of hand, in the silent stares of Castiel, in the blood-soaked memories of the massacre in Randy’s house, in the images of Y/N cradling his stained body in the shower like she was his only thing keeping him human, breathless reassurances and we’re going to be okays dancing in the air between them.

It was always there and Dean knew it wouldn’t go away no matter how much Y/N or Sam or Cas wanted it to.

And so he’d do the one thing he still trusted himself enough to do.

Keep Y/N safe.

At all costs.

Warm lips brushed against Dean’s clothed shoulder-blade as Y/N wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her face into the fabric, breathing in the scent of whiskey and cinnamon soap and Dean.

“I thought I’d find you here.” She sighed, squeezing his middle.

“Hmmm,” Dean craned his neck to peck her temple softly, “smell good, sweetheart.”

“You always say that, D.”

“You always smell good.” He retorted and turned around to face her, arm wounding around her waist while he latched his lips onto her neck and nibbled at the sensitive skin there, humming in satisfaction. “And taste even better.”

“Jeez, Dean, you’re such a perv.”

“And yet, you keep me around.” He smirked, threading his fingers into her hair.

“Yeah, cause I need someone to open all the jar lids for me.”

“Smartass.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What are you doing up anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and Dean’s heart sank into his chest because he knew what that meant.

“Woke you up again, didn’t I?” he implored, low and gruff at the back of his throat.

“It sounded really bad this time, D.”

Shaking his head, he let his hand slid down her arm gently and gripped at her fingers.

“’M fine, kid.”

She hummed in response, something sarcastic.

“What? I am. The nightmares are just,” he breathed out through his nose, muscle flaring along his jaw, “they sound worse than they are.”

“Do they? Because you’ve been…” she let out a deep breath, gnawing on her bottom lip. “You barely sleep anymore, Dean. And I know you keep saying you’re alright and that you don’t remember Hell but I-”

“Kid,” he pleaded, every emotion he’d managed to keep under wraps for the past month threatening to spill into his voice, “don’t… Don’t go there.”

“Okay.” She told him, and he nodded and breathed in a whose, kissing their joined hands. “But, just…” she clasped the side of his face, gentleness and desperation burning beneath her fingertips, “nothing can scare me away.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t know the things I… I can’t-”

“I don’t care.” She insisted, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “D., I love you. Always.”

He smiled.

It was bitter-sweet, brittle with unshed tears and unspoken confessions that bled into his mind at night, strapped with gratitude and selflessness and awe for the girl that took in scars and wounds and bruises and only gave back love.

It was hers.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling her tight against him, heartbeat trapped within hers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that.” She protested, silky words caressing his clothed skin. “You do deserve happiness, Dean, maybe more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I just wish you could see that.”

“Yeah. Me too, kid.” He said, rumbling into your hair. Then. “C’mon. We should get you back to bed.”

“Actually. I got a better idea.” She stated and looked up, jamming her hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “When was the last time the two of us took a ride together?”

“A ride?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, mischief coating her features. “No direction. No plans. Just you, me, Baby and the open road.” A pause. “Okay. Maybe even Ben King with because we both know how much you love Stand By Me.”

“You love that song.”

“We both love that song.” She retorted, smiling her most wonderful smile. “So. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.” He agreed and ducked in to kiss her lips sweetly.

And when she kissed him back and breathed in against it all, lips moving against his like that was what they were always meant to do, hand sliding up the muscles of his back to hold him, feel him next to her, solid and safe and real, he realized that, no matter what life chose to throw their way, the two of them would be just fine.

Dean was going to miss her.

He’d miss the breathy laughs and the brilliant smiles, the lazy morning kisses and those arms that wrapped around him and gripped like they were trying to put all of his broken pieces back together.

He’d miss her warmth, and the way she bit on her bottom lip when she was trying to concentrate, the nights he’d spend watching her read her favorite book, the way she argued with him about westerns, or how her face would light up every time he brought home sunflowers to surprise her.

He’d miss her acceptance and her love and the way she tucked herself against him at nights, a quiet reassurance that he’d never be alone in the world again.

But most of all, he’d miss his home, the home he never thought he’d have, the home that was etched around her smile and her eyes and her.

“Dean,” a deep voice called, prompting the hunter to turn around and look for the incoming sound only to find Castiel standing a few feet away from him, arms slack at his sides.

“It’s time.”

Dean’s heart sank within his chest.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, hands squeezing into fists, white-knuckled, “yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“You know,” Cas started, taking a few tentative steps towards his friends, “you can still stop this.”

Dean blinked and swallowed, hard.

“I can’t. She’s...” he sighed and glanced at the girl that was sleeping soundly on the bed, the girl he loved with everything he had. “She’s my entire life, man. I can’t just… I’ll get her killed.”

“Y/N doesn’t believe that.”

“Cas-”

“She’d never forgive you.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean cackled, brittle and sad as he rubbed his forehead, “that’s not really going to matter in a few minutes, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.” The angel agreed stoically.

A pause and then-

“Are you sure?”

And Dean wanted to tell him that he wasn’t, wanted to scream and break things and call the entire plan off, wanted to put Y/N in Baby with him and just drive, away from Kansas and from Metatron and everything that had ever hurt them but then he saw the Mark that burned across his skin and he remembered.

That greater good thing just went away, didn’t it? Now, people die just because you want them to.

He remembered how dark and red it turned every time he couldn’t control his bloodlust, remembered the throbbing pain of it pumping through his veins.

Kevin’s death? All on you. You put him in harm’s way and kept him there.

He remembered Claire’s terrified look, remembered how she’d stared at him like he was a monster before breaking into sobs in front of Randy’s lifeless body.

Gadreel possessing Sam? Who was it that tricked Sam into letting him in?

He remembered the desperation that had stained Sam’s voice while he called his name, remembered the defeat and the denial and the pure heartache in it.

Dean Winchester, whose entire existence is defined by a war on the dark and monstrous, bromancing his way around the country with the king of Hell.

He remembered thinking that he’d lost a part of him in that house that night, that things would never go back to the way they used to be.

I love you too.

Always.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw until it hurt.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”

Froth-laced waves rolled up the shoreline and mingled with the white sand beneath Dean’s feet, enveloping him in a scent of seafoam and washed-out kelp.

The water was cold, even though it was a warm day painted in endless blue, sky pristine and the sea speckled with golden rays of light, and yet, all Dean could see was the girl walking next to him, dressed in a black swimsuit that unveiled smoothness he’d spent years of his life memorizing, eyes glistening under the morning sun.

“So,” she said, brushing her palms together, soft smile gracing her lips, “pasta or seafood?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m trying to figure out where we’re going to eat for dinner.” She explained, matter-of-fact, as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “So. Pasta or seafood?”

“Hmmm…” He scratched the back of his neck in thought. “Burgers.”

“Seriously? We have burgers all the time.”

“And?”

“And this trip is all about discovering new things.”

A hum.

Eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Right. You want to go to that Italian place in the middle of nowhere, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiled, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Dean, please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” She whined sweetly, hands clasped in that way she knew he found adorable, puppy dogs on and, dammit, she was cute.

So, he let out a low groan and reached out for her hand, rolling his eyes so hard that he was afraid he’d never be able to blink again.

“Fine.” He gritted, running a hand over his jaw. “But I’m not wearing a suit.”

“Don’t worry, D., I’m not gonna make you dress like a fed to go out for dinner.” She kissed the corner of his mouth warmly, triumph and mischief coating her features as she mumbled a thank you under her breath.

“You got me on a string, you know that?” he groaned, arm wounding around her waist to pull her closer to him.

“Yes.” She beamed. “But you love it.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, heart swelling with affection and tenderness.

“Yeah,” he agreed, lips brushing up against the softness of her wrist, “yeah, I really do.”

Her face broke into that breathless smile he loved so much then, the one that reminded him of aged whiskey and freshly baked cherry pie, and of home and he leaned in and pecked her lips swiftly, all sweetness and warmth.

“So,” he cleared his throat, nuzzling the crook of her neck “just out of curiosity. You’re not afraid of the ocean anymore, are you?”

“Nope, not anymore. Why would you –Dean, don’t you dare.”

But it was too late.

Dean had already thrown her over his shoulder and was now waist-deep into the water, crazy laughter spilling from his lips as she let empty threats and colorful insults smack his skin.

And then-

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you dick.” Y/N bellowed after she’d been tossed inside, treading saltiness until her feet reached the bottom of the sea again.

“Always such a smart mouth, sweetheart.” Dean smirked, swimming up to her.

“Shut up.”

More laughter.

“I hate you.”

“C’mere.” He whispered, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he pulled her sun-kissed body to his.

His large hand clasped the side of her face.

“You’re cute when you roll your eyes like that.”

“Am not.”

Dean hummed at that, gaze flickering over her features swiftly, then pressed his salty lips to hers, thumb smoothing over her jaw as he worked her tongue into her, smirking a bit when he felt her whimpering into his mouth.

“Beautiful, sweetheart.” He rasped out against her neck, titling her head back so he could have better access. “So beautiful.”

Letting out a small whimper, Y/N tugged at his hair but he only chuckled a little under his breath and let his lips suck and lick at her throat, while his calloused fingers slid down her back and hooked under her top, expertly pulling at its strings until the fabric was all gone and he could see, could feel all of her, pressing up against his bare chest.

“D., what are you-”

“Just,” he breathed, eyes darting up and down her body, all amazement and want. “Shit, kid, just lemme…”

And then he was cupping her butt and had her hoisted into his arms, refusing to put her down until they’d reached a raft he’d seen earlier in a secluded section of the beach.

“You know,” she gasped when he pressed his forehead to her temple, blanketing over her, “this is how people actually go to jail.”

“No, it’s not. No one ever comes here.” Dean breathed into her ear, fingers hooking under the waistband of her swimsuit.

“Yeah, but what if-”

“Stop,” kiss, “worrying,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “much.”

“’M just saying,” she chuckled, palming the back of his neck, “we do have a car.”

“Don’t care.” He whispered, mouth up her jaw. “Want you.” He whispered and kissed her again slow and desperate and full, until she breathed her consent into his mouth.

And so, he let his hands smooth down her skin, let his fingers explore curves and edges and strands of hair like it was the first time, and while he had her whimpering underneath him, panting and giving and taking, he realized that, despite the nightmares and Purgatory and the tablets, despite everything, he was the luckiest man on Earth.

Dean didn’t kiss her goodbye.

He told himself that it was because he didn’t want to risk waking her up, but, really, he knew that he was afraid that if he allowed himself to have her like that one more time, he’d never be able to let go.

So, instead, he stole one last glance, a moment of absolute serenity that would stand still in his memory forever, and left, wondering, vaguely, whether that heart-shattering pain that had plugged itself deep into his chest would ever go away.

He didn’t think so.

Kneading his shoulders, he pondered calling his brother to see how he was holding up when-

“It’s done.” Castiel said, suddenly in front of him, all gruffness and resentment. “Y/N no longer remembers you.”

His stomach plummeted, his heart broken mosaic he’d never be able to repair.

He nodded.

“Good.” He rasped out, lungs clenching.

“Dean,-”

“I need a moment.”

“Dean, I-”

“I said I need a moment.” Dean growled, harsher than he intended to.

He tried to ignore the lone tear that slid down his face.

There was no reason for him to cry anymore.

It was over.

Soft, feather-light kisses landed on Y/N’s naked body, while she laid on her stomach, sprawled over across the bed, crisp white sheets hanging low on her hips.

Dean was pressed up against her, body perfectly tucked against her own, and he was landing kisses everywhere, from the column of her neck, to her shoulder-blades, down her spine and on the deepest arch of her lower back.

“That tickles.” She pouted after a few minutes, rolling over to face him.

“Well, good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” He chuckled, hands smoothing down her sides as he ducked in to kiss her, soft and fragile like spur sugar, a quick morning kiss that was over as soon as it started.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, nose nudging up against his, “I missed this.”

And he knew that she didn’t mean to, but her words sliced deeper into already open wounds, and he sighed and had to look away for a second, shame and guilt hot in the air between them.

“I know. And I –look, I know we’ve already talked about this but I-”

“Dean, I swear to God if you apologize one more time, I’m actually going to punch you.” She warned, brandishing a finger at him.

He chuckled then, bitter and wrecked, and rolled over his side to sit up against the headboard, watching as she did the same thing.

“Last night, when you knocked on my door, I thought… I thought you were going to leave me.” He stated, jaw clenched painfully.

“I…Leave you?”

“Yeah. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t have blamed you, Y/N.”

“Dean-”

“No. Kid, the things I put you through… I almost killed you, for fuck’s sake.”

“But that wasn’t you.” Y/N retorted, running her fingers through her messed up hair in frustration. “I knew that. And I’m not saying that it was always easy to remember it or that it didn’t hurt to see you acting like a complete douchewad but I knew.”

He nodded and stayed silent for one, two, three long bits but then-

“I didn’t,” he croaked, shoulders sagging, “I hope you know that I never slept… I couldn’t-”

“I know. And you’re not… You’re not going to lose me.” She stated and crawled on top of him, knowing that he wanted, needed to feel her close to him, legs straddling his hips. “I’m not leaving, D. I love you.”

He drew in a sharp breath at that and pressed his forehead against hers, hands coming to cup her face.

“God, I’m so…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so damn much.” He whispered and pressed his mouth against hers, all urgency and need, tongue and lips and breaths working together to cherish everything she had to give until he couldn’t take it anymore and let himself relish in warmth and softness and love.

And despite his evident heartache and desperation, he took it slow as he slipped into her that time, took it slow as he cradled her into his chest and whispered nothing but words of love into her ear, because he wanted to feel everything, and when she rocked her hips into his and let her head fall onto his shoulder, he realized, God, there in her arms, with her fingers combed into his hair and her eyes locked on his, he realized that he’d never felt more alive.

Dean stopped by her room again.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do it, promised himself he’d just drive off but it was almost impossible to ignore that the woman he’d spent most of his life with, the one he loved with every single beat in his heart, was only a few rooms away.

So, he sneaked in, soul scarred and heart heavy with the realization that it was the last time he’d ever see her and he almost broke, right there in the middle of the room.

And that was when it really hit him.

Τhe naked woman sleeping on the bed was no longer his Y/N.

She didn’t remember him.

She didn’t remember the first time they met, how she waltzed into the warehouse and saved Dean’s life, all confidence and skills.

She didn’t remember the nights they spent curled up in the same bed, whiskey-laced breaths and whispered childhood stories their only company.

She didn’t remember their first kiss, how their lips danced together, slow and soul searing, how she’d stolen Dean’s breath away because she was everything he had imagined and so much more.

She didn’t remember the first time they made love and their first I-love-yous and their late night drives and the heated arguments and the bone-crushing hugs and the plans they made for the future.

She didn’t remember the Christmas night they’d spent dancing barefoot in the dark, because she was tipsy and he’d sold his soul and they were both terrified their end was near.

She didn’t remember she loved him.

She didn’t remember he loved her more than he’d ever loved anything in his god-forsaken life.

They’d fought for each other over and over again, they tried and they bled and they cried and vowed they’d always be together, and now, now they were at the end of the line and he was nothing but a stranger to her, a meaningless name, just another face in the crowd.

His bottom lip trembled, hot tears brimming within his eyes.

He walked past her, past the room, past people that looked at him like he was the four-year-old child that’d lost his mother all over again, all curiosity and pity, and got into his car.

Her scent still lingered in the air, on his skin, on the leather seat.

He took a deep breath and turned on the radio.

If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea.

Another tear slid down his face but he didn’t wipe it off as he let the familiar melody cut him, an autumn night filled with breathless praises and soft moans in the backseat of his car ringing clear into memory.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry,

No, I won’t shed a tear

Just as long as you stand, stand by me.

His foot pressed down the accelerator and he drove off.

This time he didn’t look back.

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