#he is very literally having that trauma brought back into his life and reliving that situation

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Captain and the Missus (2/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour.

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America” This will satisfy both Steggy Week Day 1: Favorite Era (I love writing them in the 40’s even though I have to do massive amounts of research) and my Steggy Bingo Bash category “Slow Burn.”

(Robot’s post HERE)

Hold on to your butts. I feel like this might take a while.

Chapter 2: Planning and Packing

READ PROLOGUE/CH 1 HERE

Chapter Summary: Peggy tries to figure out how they're going to move forward as they get ready to leave the base as man and wife.

A/N: So, apparently, it’s been a year? There’s about 17k of this story and it’s barely started. I love it and it will get finished, it’s just going to take a while. Not sure if I’ll continue to post as a WIP or if I’ll wait until it’s eventually finished. Slow Burn INDEED. Please enjoy this next chapter.

Here it is, chapter 2 for Steggy Week ’22 Day 2: Favorite Era

~*~

Peggy spent the next day with her own contingent of privates that followed her around base, packing two very large, very non-descript looking trunks while Howard had Steve for one last day of testing. Good to her word, she packed everything they might need and more from the base. Keeping busy kept her mind from racing.

She was now officially married, like it or not, to the man she was having outrageously inappropriate feelings for given their current situation. She’d spent a sleepless night last night staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the things that could go wrong and all the things that could go right, neither of which brought her much peace.

Thinking of his lips kissing hers, of his arms wrapped around her, led to thoughts of her holding him, bleeding, after a sniper caught him on stage. Thoughts of them holding hands, taking long, slow walks along the waterfront led to thoughts of his hand reaching for hers as Hydra agents pulled them apart. Fantasies of what it would be like to feel him on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips, dissolved into scenes of them being overwhelmed by Hydra forces, the two of them fighting until their deaths.

Needless to say, she hadn’t slept.

The bouncing back and forth of her emotions, from soft and happy and fantasizing to dark and scary and reliving the trauma of his blood literally pouring through her fingers, gave her quite the sense of whiplash as she moved through the halls. Having a task to focus on was her only saving grace as she led the privates from armory to storage and back again, checking items off her list as they went: firearms of all sizes, ammunition, spy cameras, bugs, decrypting machines, radios, and more. She filled the trunks efficiently, only starting to feel the anxiety creep in again as the trunks were filled and locked and sent on their way with the soldiers.

Peggy set her shoulders back, walking to Stark’s lab, her mind running through the list she’d completed just one more time. She couldn’t think of a single thing more they might need, but that didn’t mean needs wouldn’t arise in the field, that things couldn’t change on a dime still, and it didn’t escape her notice that instead of the rush of adrenaline she usually got with the thrill of an upcoming mission, she only felt cold fingers of fear wrapping around her spine.

She tried to shake it off with a deep breath as she pushed open the door to Stark’s lab, setting a smile on her face.

“Agent Carter! Perfect timing!” Howard looked up at her, giddy as a school boy. She guessed it was whatever he and Steve had been discussing, as Steve looked quite happy, as well.

She didn’t dare imagine that it was her arrival that put that smile on his face.

“Yes, well, I do tend to keep my appointments.” She stepped up to Steve’s side, giving him her own smile. “Rogers.”

Howard laughed and turned away from the table, sticking his arms into a closet and coming back out with a large box stacked on top of a smaller one. “Better start picking pet names, kids. No one’s gonna believe you’re married if you’re calling him Rogers.”

“Ah, yes, sorry,” she rolled her eyes at him, and caught Steve hiding his own smile. “Hello, cupcake.”

Steve did laugh at that as Howard dropped the boxes he’d been holding in his arms on the table. He set his hands on his hips and shook his head at her. “No. That’s just doesn’t sound right coming from you.”

“What? Calling Steve ‘cupcake’?” Peggy allowed herself the moment of levity, and even felt a warmth flood through her at Steve’s smile in her direction.

He shrugged, his neck just a little red. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.”

Howard’s expression soured. “Look, it’s fun and games now, but I’m serious. You two are going to be out there, all alone, with only each other. We don’t know how far Hydra is willing to go on this, and how well you sell this cover is going to determine how much danger you’re in.”

Peggy sighed. She just couldn’t manage to get away from the truth of it, and the heaviness of his words settled deep in her stomach. “Howard, believe me, I know.” She looked between them both, unsettled that Steve seemed unsure and chastised at Stark’s words. “When the time comes, you’ll believe us.” She moved closer to Steve, leaning into his side and wrapping her arm around his waist. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Won’t they, darling?”

She wasn’t sure why she chose that endearment, but it felt right in that moment. It felt easy and natural, slipping from her lips as he looked down at her.

She felt him tense for just a moment before he relaxed, his eyes saying that he trusted her more than anything. “Absolutey, dearest.”

Peggy didn’t realize they’d been staring at each other until Howard cleared his throat. She pulled away from Steve slowly, like she was being pulled from a trance.

“Ok, maybe I’m wrong about that,” Howard mumbled, his eyebrows raising and falling, “but I’m not wrong about you two needing a little something extra out in the field. Ta-da!” He pulled the top off the top box and displayed what appeared to be an elaborate red, white, and blue costume in the style of a tactical suit.

“That’s… something.” Steve tried to hold back his disbelief.

Peggy did no such thing. “Howard, you did everything but paint a target on it!” Peggy pointed at the red and white striped mid-section.

“It’s a costume. I asked Brant’s guy to get me what his costume was going to look like. It’s reinforced, just like you’d get out in the field.” Howard pulled it out and showed them how thick it was. “Might be a little warm under the lights, but a knife ain’t getting through, it’ll stop most corrosives, and I reinforced across the chest with a metal plate, so it’ll stop at least a chest shot from a bullet.” He shrugged, handing Steve the top. “Putting that all over would be too heavy, for sure, but we know most of the Hydra guys are trained for the shot to the heart, so…”

Steve ran his hands over it, then shoved his arm through a sleeve. “And this is what Brandt wants me to wear?”

“It’s what some yokel costume designer wants you to wear.” Howard pulled out the pants and thick red boots. “I made some modifications. Tights were originally involved.”

Peggy fought hard to hold back her laugh at Steve’s face when Howard mentioned tights, and instead focused on the helmet in the box. “And that?”

Howard lifted it and juggled it in his hands for a second before he punched it, trying to prove its invincibility. “Enough to stop a headshot from a few meters away, but not point-blank range.”

“If someone’s made it to point blank range then we’re already in big trouble,” Peggy mumbled, pulling it from his hands. “Lightweight. Surprisingly. What’s the ‘A’ for?”

“America, naturally!” Howards false bravado fell flat. “I’m telling you, whoever designed this costume was out of his mind. They wanted a little fabric hood with wings on the side. Wings!”

Steve took the helmet from Peggy and set it on his head, moving around to see how it felt. “Well, this is a considerable upgrade from that. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Howard pushed the box forward, letting Steve slide his costume back in.

“So, what’s in the smaller box?” Steve asked, folding the top of his costume.

Howard didn’t say anything, but slid the box over in front of Peggy. She was nervous, knowing she’d have a costume and a role of her own to play. She wasn’t sure how much of that miracle reinforced fabric he could get in such a thin box, but she’d be grateful for anything she could get. She lifted the lid, peering in, and then gently put the lid to the side as what it was dawned on her. With two fingers, and a lot of annoyance, she pulled the black slip from the box. “Howard, is this women’s underwear?”

Steve coughed and looked away out of embarrassment, and Howard held his hands up. “I can explain.”

Peggy set the slip down and dug through the other pieces in there, lips pressed tight. “Please do.”

“You’ve got a lot more costumes!” Howard shrugged, slowly taking a step back. “I’m no Christian Dior here! They sent me drawings of five different dresses- we don’t have the time or the resources to set you up with five different dresses.”

“So, this is a joke?” Peggy pulled out a black thigh high stocking and waved it in his face? “Hum? Your idea of a joke? Steve gets full body armor and I get lingerie?”

“What?” Howard looked shocked. “You think that of me? No!” Howard rushed forward, pulling out the slip and handing it to her. “Feel that.”

“Rough and thick, not even good quality.” She rolled her eyes, almost completely forgetting Steve was standing next to her, turning a bright shade of red as she argued with Howard. “Least you could do for a newlywed woman is get her something nice!”

Howard huffed. “Jesus, woman, let me explain!” He pulled a pocket knife from his pants and flipped it open. “We’ve been working on this for two years. We had barely enough for a prototype for you, ok?” He took the slip from her and wound it over his hand before plunging the knife at his palm.

Steve and Peggy both jumped, but leaned forward as Howard showed them where the fabric had stopped the knife. “What is that?” Peggy asked, amazed.

“It’s a new fabric we’ve been developing. Inspired by the strength of spider silk and the concept of chainmail.” He pulled the knife away, revealing the unmarred fabric, and then showed his palm, where there was a small mark, but no bruise and no blood. “It’s still in prototype phase, and it won’t stop a bullet, from any distance, but it’ll give you some protection.”

“Why lingerie?” Steve asked, picking up the side of the slip and running his fingers over it.

“What the hell else were we supposed to do? She can’t be your ‘home-front missus’ running around in tactical gear, and they’ve got her changing dresses every five minutes.” He shook his head, looking at Peggy as she pulled the stockings out, examining them. “I know it ain’t much compared to what we were able to do for Steve, but this gives you at least a little protection in a one-on-one situation.”

Peggy softened as she looked through the box. A set of black and a set of nude stockings and matching slips. At the bottom, she dug out a single, white brassiere that was the most boxy, full coverage shape she’d ever seen. “Howard, this is atrocious.”

“I know,” he groused. “It’s an abomination and should never see the light of day, never mind be worn by a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He pulled it from her fingers and pressed against the cup, which didn’t fold as he pushed. “But it was the only way we could give you some body armor. Won’t be comfortable, but it’s the only thing we could make with anything near a chest plate in it… even if it’s a fashion crime.”

Peggy took the brassiere back and held it in her hands, pressing against the molded metal. “Well, then, I do appreciate it, Howard, though I’m not going to ask how you seemed to know my measurements.”

He let a cheeky smile split his face. “I estimated. I’m pretty good at that- lots of experience.” He sobered quickly when she didn’t laugh. “Like I said, best we can do.” He shrugged. “I’m shipping back out with Phillips, but if you guys think of anything else you need, I can get it to you in a few days, or whenever the next transport goes out. However,” Howard held up his pointer fingers and backed away, heading back to the closet, “there’s one more thing.” He came back with a small box this time, and opened it to reveal three rings.

Steve leaned forward, whistling. “Gonna be a hard sell that I could afford that on a soldier’s salary,” he looked at the sparkling diamond that was a size he only ever heard about.

Peggy huffed a laugh. “I’ll barely be able to hold my hand up! Howard, that’s excessive.”

“It needs to stand out, in real life and on stage,” he pulled the diamond engagement ring out and showed her the far edge. “It also had to be big enough for us to cut it right. This edge here will cut through glass and most thin steals. Should be flat enough that when you’re wearing it that it’s not dangerous, but when you take it off,” he turned it at an angle and pressed it to the steel work table, “Forty five to fifty five degree angle and a little bit of pressure,” he pulled it across the table for an inch and smiled when he left a thin gash behind, “and you’ve got a lot of options.”

“Genius!” Peggy pulled it from him, examining the edge and running her finger over it, excited about the possibilities.

“It’s also big enough that if you punch a guy in the eye with it, it should do some damage.” Howard shrugged. “Now, the wedding bands have their own advantages.” He pulled the larger one out and showed them the bevel cut edge. “Looks like a decorative pattern, right?”

“Right…” Steve replied, eyeing it carefully.

“Find the catch at the bottom and… voila!” Howard pulled at the edge and unwound a thin wire from inside the ring, “Hidden garrote wire!”

Steve reached out, plucking it until it vibrated in Howard’s hands. “And that’s for…”

“Strangling, disabling, slicing off fingers… it’s conductive and can be welded if you find yourself in need of some light tampering with electronics.” Howard gave a tiny tug and the wire wound itself back up into the ring, hiding from view. “Also good at cutting bread and cheese.”  He pulled at the latch once again, this time just pressing it so it stood out like a needle from the edge of the ring. “Can also be used as a puncture needle. Dip it in poison, knock out drops, or just to annoy your friends.” He snapped it back into place and twirled what now looked like any other ring between his fingers.

“That is impressive,” Peggy mused, reaching out to take her ring from the box. Steve’s hand snatched it away first, though. She looked up at him, but he held out his other hand, waiting for her to put the engagement ring in his palm.

“I think that’s my job, don’t you?” he asked, more confident than she knew he felt based on the sweat on his palm when she placed the ring in.

“Alright then,” she held her left hand out, hoping that her own sudden nervousness didn’t show. “Go ahead, Mr. Rogers.”

He licked his lips, and she could feel his hands shaking just a bit as he took hers, slipping the wedding band on her ring finger, followed by the faux diamond. “There you go, Mrs. Rogers.” He held her hand loosely, getting bolder by the second when she didn’t pull away.

She was only marginally aware of Howard as he held Steve’s ring out to her, taking it in her hand without looking at the scientist, and slipping it on Steve’s finger. “There you go, darling,” she whispered, entranced by his eyes and the feeling of their hands together, the metal of the rings slipping against their skin, not quite warm yet, not quite familiar, but feeling somehow so totally right that she could hardly breathe.

“Oh, no. No. Continue. Just pretend I’m not here,” Howard’s voice broke them apart, pulling their eyes to him where he was sitting on a stool a few feet away, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

Peggy dropped Steve’s hand, but didn’t stop fidgeting with her rings. “Have you anything else for us, Howard?” She forced a strong tone, and thought she managed pretty well.

Howard, however, saw right through her. “Nah. Not for you, anyway. Steve and I have to go through some more testing before I give him up, and that’s a lot to fit in only a day.”

Peggy looked over at Steve, who seemed a mess of emotions all written on his face plain as day: confused, frustrated, embarrassed, tired… she ached for his plight. “You’re alright with that?”

“I have to be.” Peggy saw the exact moment he bucked up and shoved the emotions away in favor of duty. Her emotions must have shown on her face more than she wanted them to, because he smirked and shrugged, trying to placate her further. “Besides, we’re finding out some pretty neat things about what I can do.”

“Neat?” Howard nearly choked, “Buddy, if you call this neat, we seriously have to work on your vocabulary.” Howard looked at Peggy, dead serious. “He can bench press a tank.”

She was stunned at that. She knew he’d be strong, but that was far exceeding what even Erskine had predicted. In her surprise, she could say only one thing, “Neat.”

~*~

Peggy spent the next morning in her room, packing things in her trunk carefully. She didn’t have much since she couldn’t take her uniforms with her. She packed the handful of dresses she had, and the one good woolen coat that wasn’t army-issued. She packed every stocking she had with care, looking over them for runs and holes and even mending one before settling them down amongst her packed clothes. She layered things by usefulness, and carefully packed away the little make up and nail varnish she had left. She set her paperbacks on top, knowing she hadn’t managed more than a page or two over the course of the war and it was hope more than any real belief that she would read them that made her pack them.

She’d had another sleepless night, and wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through all of this if she couldn’t get a decent night’s rest.

Peggy was sure the fact that she’d already experienced leaning over his bloodied body, thinking he was dying, was the very thing fueling her dread.

She packed methodically, taking everything except the army-issue clothes. She even packed canteens and belts, knowing she could get away with fibbing some of them were Steve’s.

Anything she couldn’t take she packed in a duffel. Phillips said it would be stored for her, but she knew she was unlikely to ever see those things again, no matter if things went right or wrong. She ran her thumb over her SSR pin, shining bright on the last jacket as she packed it away.

Peggy wished she understood this swirl of emotion. She was used to the rush of excitement, the fear of the unknown that each new case brought, not this complicated mess of uncertainty.

She zipped the bag and left it on the bed, now stripped down to a bare mattress, with her sheets folded at the corner.

Some other woman would be taking her room now, some other agent or secretary would move in with a handful of crisp, fresh army linens and the relief of having her own room instead of a bunk in the barracks.

Peggy closed her trunk with a sigh and turned to the mirror one more time. She hadn’t put on this dress in months, and her pumps felt so high after so long in just the little army issue shoes that barely had any heel. She supposed she looked good enough for war time, though in her mind her mother was scolding her for even thinking of going out traveling without a hat and gloves.

Gloves, she thought, would be a travesty. She rubbed her thumb over her rings, smiling. She’d gotten used to them quickly, and even though she shared Steve’s assertion that the diamond was a touch big, something about them felt reassuring.

She was pulled from her musing by a knock at her door. “Yes?”

“Peg?”

She smiled, despite herself. Steve’s voice was warm and welcome.

“Perfect timing,” She called, moving the few feet to open the door. She smiled at him, dressed back in a full drab green dress uniform, though without all the valor pinned to his chest. “Still looks good on you.”

He blushed and dropped his head, shrugging. She nearly chuckled at how much of him he still was, and then felt a warm surge of happiness as she watched how he twirled his ring with his other hand, spinning it over and over on his finger. He finally lifted his eyes back up, one half of his mouth lifted and eyes bright. “You look beautiful. I’m not used to seeing you out of uniform.”

“Well, get used to it,” she stepped back and let him in. “I’ve had to leave behind all the regulation clothes except for a few blouses and odds and ends that might be useful. No more Army green for me.”

“You look better in red, anyway.” His voice was so quiet she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at him as he said it. She couldn’t help but smile, and she could tell he struggled to find what to say next. He finally broke the silence by pointing at her trunk. “All packed?” he asked, full of bravado and reassured by the banality of the task.

“Yes, quite.” She felt an awkwardness settle about them that she had to make sure they moved past it. They knew each other so little, but in a just a few hours, no matter what this spark was that was lighting between them, they had to convince the world they were married. “I’ve packed it pretty tightly, so do be careful.”

Steve smiled, reaching down and lifting it easily. “It’s a little lighter than a tank, so I think I’ll manage.”

She rolled her eyes, teasing back. “Wires, I suspect. Can’t lift more than an ant without them.”

“Or so I’ve been told,” he retorted, showing off and holding it up with only one hand. “Come on,” He stepped forward, moving to the door. “There’s a car waiting for us, has the two trunks you filled yesterday and mine on it already. We’ll strap this on then get going for the train station.”

Peggy followed him out, looking over her little room one last time and grabbing her purse, closing the door swiftly and trying to imagine she’d locked up all her confused feelings about everything back in that room. “You know,” she began as they moved down the hall, “I’m not a very vain person, but the idea that people will believe I’m toting around three trunks of my own things when people are struggling with so little now does sting a little.”

She moved quickly to get in front of him and held open the door for him, following as he directed her to the car. “You know,” he started, gently setting down the trunk in the back of the jeep and making sure it wasn’t moving before he pushed the tailgate up, “my wife’s allowed to bring as much stuff with her as she wants.” He smiled, hands on his hips. “Anyone else be damned.”

Peggy managed to clock that the jeep and the driver were not from their camp or their regiment, and though she’d counted on the time during the drive to set some things about their past together straight, she realized they were out of time, and the charade began now. She took a few long strides and wound her arms around his neck. “How simply wonderful of you to say, darling.” She felt a shiver go up her spine when his hands lightly wrapped around her hips. She smiled to reassure him, and his grip tightened. “Especially considering you’re the one that has to carry them.”

She could tell Steve was struggling with what he wanted to do next. She could see indecision in his eyes: there was something he wanted to do, but he didn’t think he should.

If he was thinking the same thing she was, making out in the middle of the base was both a fabulous idea to keep up their cover and a horrible idea considering she could see Phillips and Stark watching them from across the camp. She pulled back, taking the choice from him. “Come along, darling. The train won’t wait for us!”

She pulled his hand along to the side of the jeep, letting him boost her up and then scooting over so he could sit next to her.

“Ready, sir?” The private in front asked.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Steve replied, and the jeep rumbled to life, driving them away from Lehigh and down to the train station.

#steggyweek22 #Steggy #3p's fic #AU #WIP #steggy fic

[backdraft-bimbo]

Bucky, trauma, and consent (TFATWS 1x03)

I’m gonna talk about the role Bucky plays in episode three. And boy is it a lot to unpack.

This whole episode Bucky has to deal with the knowledge that there are other Super Soldiers out there. Can y’all imagine that? Finding out that the serum you were forcefully given is now in the hands of people who are willingly taking it? That serum brought us Steve—a righteous soldier. But it also brought us the Winter Soldier—a ruthless assassin.

There are two sides here, and the difference between them is that Bucky had no choice. His consent was ripped away from him completely. Put yourself in his shoes—consider how it’d feel to see people ignorantly take that same serum, unaware of how they could potentially be weaponized just like Bucky. I don’t know about y’all, but I’d be pretty torn up about it.

In addition to revisiting the awfulness of that trauma, Bucky has to buddy it up with one of his past abusers. And yeah, I’m talking about Zemo. He said it was “nothing personal,” but that doesn’t mean jack shit to me. The man seriously started listing off the Winter Soldier code words the minute Bucky walked into his cell. Think about somebody taking away your autonomy while you’re imprisoned, forcing you to try to kill your friends, and saying it’s no biggie after all is said and done.

Then, Zemo literally forces Bucky into a situation where he must revert back into the Winter Soldier. After the persistent nightmares, the long list of amends, Bucky has to fight like an assassin again. All while struggling with his identity, trying to reestablish himself to the world: He’s James “Bucky” Barnes, not a killer. He wants to believe it, even though it’s unbearably hard for him.

After reliving that trauma, Bucky is understandably shaken up. Go watch the episode and just look at his face. He’s trying so hard to hold back his emotions, because if he doesn’t, the mission is blown. But the pain ain’t over yet. This next scene had me out of my chair, yelling at my computer.

Zemo offers Bucky up to Selby, telling her Bucky will “do anything [she] want[s].” The thing that pisses me off the most about this is how unnecessary it was. Zemo didn’t have to touch him, or say those things so suggestively. He was having fun doing it, even when Bucky was visibly uncomfortable. Zemo knows his past—he knows what HYDRA put him through. But he still sadistically plays with Bucky’s trauma, dangling him in front of other powerful people like a trophy prize.

That’s the most heartbreaking aspect of Bucky’s story. He’s had virtually no control over his life, he’s been ripped of his consent, his sense of self, and turned into a murderer. He’s capable of doing a lot of damage, and he’s powerful—but with that comes people constantly trying to get their turn with him. Like he’s just a mindless weapon at their convenience. He’s seen as an asset rather than a human being to so many people—HYDRA, Alexander Pierce, Zemo....and even John Walker: Captain America, supposedly the most respected man in the USA.

No wonder Bucky has trust issues. Even the “good guys” are trying to objectify and weaponize him. If Bucky ever accused Walker of forcing him to fight against his will, nobody would take his side on it. He’s got a checkered past, and that would never play to his advantage in a court of law.

Bucky’s narrative is very reminiscent of how victims are often afraid to speak up against respected authority figures because they always have the upper hand. I think that’s why a lot of people love his character. His situation, while fictional and dramatized, is relatable and relevant. It deals with consent. It deals with trauma, PTSD, and guilt. Bucky is a victim of abuse, but he’s also a survivor. He’s making steps to improve his mental health.

And damn, that’s just why this episode really hit me hard. When you consider all that Bucky’s been through up to this point, the situations Zemo forced him into gain so much more weight.

#man i just love him so much. and i want to punch zemo in the neck rn. #tfatws #bucky barnes #zemo #meta #analysis

[n1kolaiz]

"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

[moonbeamwritings]

train station kisses

a sequel to one missed call

Summary: After receiving a phone call from Jotaro after ten years of no contact, you attempt to navigate both your feelings and his. Will a reunion around the holidays be just what you both needed?

Author’s Note: I just wanted to say thank you for all of the positive reactions to one missed call! It really means a lot 🥺💕I hope you guys enjoy the sequel just as much!!

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

A relieved exhale could be heard through the phone, followed by a brief moment of silence, “Hi.” If his breath had sounded relieved, then his voice sounded even more so. “I thought you wouldn’t call.”

You brought the phone with you as you traveled across the living room, resting back against the couch. “If I’m being honest, I almost didn’t.”

As much as he had convinced himself that he didn’t deserve a call back, Jotaro’s heart sunk into his stomach with the thought that you very nearly didn’t return his message, keeping him nothing but a distant, painful memory.

“Well,” he finally spoke, fidgeting with the pen resting on his desk, “I’m glad you did.”

You let out a nervous huff, quiet and short, “Yeah, me too.”

Silence overtook the conversation once again, entirely too awkward for your liking. Where were you even supposed to start? The man on the other end had confessed his love to you, through a long, emotional message on your answering machine no less, and now you were confronting him after not hearing from him in literal years. What were you supposed to do?

“Jotaro I-”

“Listen-”

You chuckled as you both attempted to speak at the same time.

“You go-”

“You first-”

You could hear his deep, quiet laugh through the phone.

“We’re off to a great start.” You told him, running a hand through your hair.

“We certainly are.”

“Look, Jotaro,” you struggle to find the right words, “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I wasn’t hurt that I didn’t hear from you, from anyone.”

A low “mhm” sounded through the phone as you collected yourself.

“But, Christ, is it nice to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear yours too.”

“What were you going to say before?” You asked, pressing the phone between your shoulder and cheek so you could pick at your nails.

“I just wanted to tell you that I meant everything I said. All of it.”

The familiar, erratic beat of your heart returned in an instant as his confession replayed in your head.

The words spilled from your mouth before you can even think to stop them, “You love me?” 

You nearly smacked a hand against your forehead with how stupid, how desperate you sounded. Were you really hearing this right now?

“I do. I figured it was better late than never to tell you, even if it was over the phone. The old man was very convincing.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he spoke of his grandfather, clearly not thrilled with his relative’s persistence.

“I-” A shaky breath left your mouth, “I love you too. I always have.”

Jotaro didn’t respond right away. How could he? You’d just told him you love him, even after all of this time, even after he’d left you alone, in the dark. After all of it.

“I miss you.” He knew he sounded pathetic, heart on display for you to hear, but he didn’t care. Jotaro also knew he wasn’t anywhere near as openly emotional as he thought you deserved, but he wanted to be selfish, if only this once, wanted to sink his hands into your heart and never let go. He wouldn’t let you be alone again, not if he could help it.

At his confession, tears pricked at the back of your eyes, stinging as they threatened to fall.

“I miss you too, Jotaro.”

The words hung heavily in the air, years of pent up emotions all laid out for you both to see. You had no idea where to go from here. The previous phone call played through your mind as you searched for the right words. One statement came to the forefront: “You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

“Jotaro? Can I ask you something?”

“If you want.”

“Before, you said something about me being something you couldn’t have. What exactly did you mean?”

You heard him sigh into the receiver, sounding dejected as he spoke, “Everyone in my life either leaves or gets hurt, or both. I push people away to keep them out of my bullshit, so they don’t get hurt. I’m not easy to love. You don’t deserve to get wrapped up in the mess I always leave behind.”

Your heart broke.

“Jotaro, you…” A laugh, involuntary and riddled with disbelief, left your throat. “You really are something else, you know that? I’ve already been to Egypt with you, for God’s sake, risked my life for your mom, to defeat DIO. I think you’re kinda stuck with me now. Messes or not.”

His voice was uncharacteristically small as he responded, “You mean that?”

You scoffed. “Of course I do. God, you are such an idiot sometimes. You’re lucky I love you.”

He allowed a tiny smile to work its way onto his face, “Yeah, I am.”

“Ohhh, Jotaro,” you teased, getting a real kick out of Jotaro revealing what was going on in that steel-trap he calls a brain, “I didn’t take you for the cheesy type.”

A groan.

“Good freakin’ grief. I take it back, I don’t miss you anymore.”

“Oh come on. You do. You can admit it.”

The moment of humor was a welcomed break from the downpour of emotions that threatened to flood your mind, a calming reminder of what once was.

“Okay,” Jotaro acquiesced, for once not having the strength to win this fight, “you’re right.”

You ached to see the look on his face on the other side of the phone. You had no doubt his eyebrows were creased in annoyance, a smile reluctantly beginning to form on his lips. What you wouldn’t give to be able to reach over, to poke and prod at his cheeks, to tease and annoy him.

“Ugh, you’re so cute,” you tell him, “What am I ever gonna do with you?”

Cute, Jotaro thought, I’ve never heard that one before.

“Look, enough already I-” Why did you have to make his words catch in his throat so much? It was infuriating. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up. I know it’s the holidays and everything but-”

You cut his rambling off with an immediate answer, “I would love to.”

“Wha- You would?” He hadn’t expected you to agree so quickly, or even at all.

The surprised lilt to his voice is not lost on you. You don’t push it. “Of course, I would.”

“In that case,” he spoke, absently tapping the pen against his desk, “I’ll have the Speedwagon Foundation pay for your travel expenses and you can come visit with my family and I for a few days.”

“Jotaro,” You admonished, “I don’t want to intrude! If you’re spending time with family, we can always wait.”

“I’ve kept you waiting long enough and besides,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “mom would love to cook for someone new.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?”

The conversation continued from there, Jotaro telling you he would pass along the information from the Speedwagon Foundation. You spent some time getting caught up, passing information back and forth until Jotaro let out a long, drawn out yawn.

“It’s getting late. I should go.” Jotaro stated, sounding reluctant.

“That’s okay. Goodnight, Jotaro. I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, see you.”

With one final click, the line went dead, sending you reeling back into the quiet hum of your living room. You nearly laughed out loud at the events unfolding before you. The last thing you had expected this holiday season was to go visit Jotaro, all expenses paid.

Before you knew it, you were switching over from the plane to the train that would take you to the station near Jotaro’s childhood home. Even given the time you took to attempt to process all of these new developments, your mind still raced, endlessly whirling and wondering. Jotaro loved you and you were visiting him. He loved you and you were going to get to see him again. It was all relentlessly surreal.

As you boarded the train for the remainder of your journey, you couldn’t help but reflect on that fateful trip to Egypt. Memories flashed behind your eyes, coming and going with the scenery passing you by. Kakyoin’s goofy laugh, Polnareff’s friendly disposition, Avdol’s kind words. Your heart clenched at the thought.

Perhaps your reunion, love confessions aside, could help you process what you’d been dealing with for so long. Maybe it could help you move on, move away from reliving the trauma of those weeks abroad. Just maybe.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, the voice over the loudspeaker alerted you that you had arrived at the station where you would meet Jotaro. Your heart thudded nervously in your chest, seemingly stealing the air from your lungs.

You grabbed your belongings and stepped out onto the platform, eyes scanning the crowd for Jotaro. He was always so tall, you thought, this should be easy.

At the same time, Jotaro entered the station, hands tucked into his pockets to disguise their slight tremor. He had never felt so nervous in his life, this situation being such uncharted territory that he almost wished he could have Star Platinum fight the feelings off for him. He pulled his hat down to cover the rosiness traveling up his neck.

His eyes scanned the crowd, landing on you across the station. You caught his gaze almost immediately, a small smile overtaking the concerned downturn of your lips. You were here, finally.

You weaved through the crowd as you locked eyes with Jotaro, carefully dragging your suitcase behind you as you moved among the throngs of people. As you reached the other side of the station, you stopped dead in your tracks, staring up at Jotaro.

It was as if a massive weight was lifted from your shoulders, like you had finally let out a sigh of relief after a long day. You wanted to live with this feeling forever.

“Hi.” You finally let out, moving to close the gap between the two of you at long last.

Without even responding, Jotaro bent down to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground and clutching you against his chest. You smiled as you felt him bury his nose against your neck.

You wrapped your own arms around his neck, one hand resting against the back of his head.

“You’re here.” His voice was muffled by your shirt, but you could hear him clear as day.

“I’m here.”

You remained like that for who knows how long, embracing one another like touch-starved fools, so lost in each other that you didn’t even register the stares from passersby.

After some time, Jotaro took his face away from your neck, returning your feet to the ground. Both hands were quick to cradle your cheeks, looking you over carefully with a cute upturn of his lips.

It was all so uncharacteristically soft that you almost felt as though he was a different person.

He hunched down, bringing his lips to yours in an emotional kiss. His lips moved against yours like a man starved, hand moving to feel your hair between his fingers. As he broke away to catch his breath, he pressed his forehead against your own.

“I love you, he spoke like it was a secret, something so important it was for your ears only, “so much.”

“I love you too, Jotaro.”

He kissed you again, a brief peck to your lips as if to seal your quiet promise, to legitimize it.

Before you could even stop them, tears began flowing down your cheeks only to be swiped away by Jotaro’s thumb.

“Oh, good grief,” he said, but it was nowhere near as biting as it could’ve been, “don’t cry.”

You chuckled at his assertion. This was the Jotaro you knew and loved. “Sorry.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, hand reaching up to ruffle the hair there.

“Come on, mom’s making dinner.”

He grabbed your suitcase and turned to head towards the door, leaving you in the dust. Typical.

When you fell into step beside him, you laced your fingers with his, running your thumb along the back of his hand.

God, you could get used to this.

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #soft jotaro is the best jotaro

[imagine-loki]

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 21/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

Loki rose again, keeping your hand in his as he did.  He gave you a brilliant smile and settled your hand on the crook of his arm.  Clearly, he was going to escort you that evening.  You weren’t surprised.  Loki liked the spotlight and being the center of attention.  His pranks around the tower said as much.  But this press conference wasn’t the kind of spotlight he wanted, not with how he had been tortured and forced to attack Earth.  He didn’t want to relive that trauma, for obvious reasons.  You and the team all understood that and no one would fault him for wanting to stay near the team’s Omega, to stay near his Omega.

You smiled up at him, letting him feel your calming aura.  Everything would be alright.  Loki gave you a warm smile in return, grateful that you were there to support him.  

“Are we ready to head out?” Steve asked.  Everyone was there and Nat had finished inspecting their outfits.  

The team agreed and you all took the elevator down to the lobby to the waiting limo.  You all squished in the elevator together and Loki pulled you safely to him, not letting anyone hurt you.  He eyed the limo when he saw it, clearly having never seen such a vehicle before.  

“It’s called a limousine,” you explained when he’d helped you in and followed after you.  “They’re used for special occasions, usually by rich people.” Loki nodded along to that.  He was a prince and understood status devices.

It wasn’t far to the conference hall, which was good when you had the entire team in a limo at once.  You stepped out of the limo onto a red carpet, where the press was gathered to take pictures of you as you headed inside.  They always wanted to comment on what designer designed your dresses and suits for any event you went to.  The Avengers were famous, as one would expect with how often they saved the world.  Since you were a member of the team, despite not being a hero and on the front lines, you were just as famous.  Being a celebrity was something you were still getting used to. 

Steve glanced to you as you stepped out of the limo.  Loki was there and had offered you his hand like the prince and gentleman he was in order to help you out of the limo.  You appreciated the help in the long gown.  You gave Steve a reassuring look when you caught his glance.  He was always so nervous in social situations.  Especially when Bucky couldn’t reassure him easily.  They played down how they were still mated in front of outsiders, as people outside the team wouldn’t understand. 

Steve relaxed when he felt your aura and saw you nearby.  The team’s Omega was vital to their stability.  You all gathered for the press and posed for pictures.  Loki remained next to you, a proper escort.  Escorting you also gave him something to focus on beside the Midgardians taking his picture and gossiping about him.  His posture was stiff and he had a hard time relaxing when there were so many people ogling him for the wrong reasons.  You squeezed his arm, drawing his attention back to you.  He gave you a smile and a grateful look as your aura wrapped around him, wrapped around all of the team.  

Finally, you got to go inside and up to the stage where Steve and Thor would be announcing Loki as the newest member of the team.  You listened politely to the speech, your presence reassuring Loki as the pair spoke about him.  You watched the press too, watched and made sure they were accepting Loki.  It was your job to read people and you were damn good at it.  It was part of what made you such a good Omega for the team.  Steve explained to the press that Loki was joining the team and an official Avenger from that moment forward.  Thor reassured them that the Battle of New York had not been Loki’s fault or choice.  There was no doubt in his words and he left no room for doubt or disagreement.  He expected that since the team trusted Loki, that the Midgardians needed to do the same.  

A few questions were asked after and Loki made a couple of polite comments when prodded to do so.  

Once that was over, you started the mingling part of the evening.  You couldn’t stay on Loki’s arm the entire time, which clearly disappointed him.  The press didn’t fail to notice how Loki doted on you.  They could clearly see that there was no mating mark on your neck, that your collar remained the plain silver of an unclaimed Omega.  Clearly, Loki hadn’t laid an official claim yet, but it was very clear to anyone who looked at the pair of you that he was an Alpha courting an Omega, one who had stated his intentions and was now waiting for the Omega to accept or deny his claim.  That knowledge would keep any other Alpha at bay, unless they were idiotic enough to want to challenge Loki for the right to court you.  

This was the old way of the castes, the way things were supposed to work.  There were too many Alphas in recent history who would just take an Omega they wanted.  

Loki wasn’t like that.  

It was well known that an Alpha was at his most dangerous and volatile while he was waiting for the acceptance or denial of the Omega he was courting.  So it was amazing that he would leave your side in the group of the press.  However, he also accepted that you needed to have independence and your own life.  You were in public, in sight of him and the team.  So he allowed you to mingle, to check on each member of your pack to make sure they were alright.  He stayed at your side as much as possible, but didn’t overbear.

He was answering questions for a reporter with Thor when you went to talk to Nat, intending to get her to go with you to the ladies’ room.  None of the team would forgive you for leaving the ballroom on your own.  Not when Nat, Loki, Lady Loki, Happy, or any of the team really, would be willing to escort you.

A hand wrapped around your arm as you were walking toward Nat.  You turned to look to see who had touched you even as your instincts screamed this was wrong.  It wasn’t a member of your pack.  Your pack could touch you casually.  You scarcely even noticed when they did.  

This person wasn’t pack.  

You looked up at the hulking man in the suit.  Alpha.  Predator.  His grip tightened on your arm as he caught your scent fully, as your fear spiked at being accosted.   

“The Avengers brought an Unclaimed Omega,” he growled.   “Just begging to be claimed and knotted,” 

Your eyes widened as the scent of his lust and power hit you.  He wasn’t as strong as Loki, not hardly, but he was an Alpha and part of you demanded you submit.  You weren’t going to submit.  Not to him.  

“N-no,” you tried, but your voice stuck in your throat.  

The Alpha was moving, dragging you out of the room.  The team was all busy mingling and didn’t see.  Didn’t sense.  

“Quiet, Omega.  You’ll be claimed and mine soon enough,” the Alpha snarled, trying to overwhelm you with his power.

You had to stop this.  Had to.  Do… something, anything.

The team hadn’t been training you for nothing.  “NO!” You shrieked, using your magic to throw a blast of light in his eyes at the same time as you whirled, driving your foot into a very delicate piece of anatomy.  Nat had been drilling you on self-defense for months.  

The Alpha howled as he doubled over, clutching at his crotch with one hand, the other still managing to maintain his grip on your arm.  

You didn’t need to shriek again.  The team was alerted at your first shriek and were there in a moment.  Bones crunched in his hand as they were removed by Bucky’s metal hand.  Loki pulled you away from him a moment later and into his strong safe arms, surrounding you by his scent.  

“Are you hurt?” Loki asked you gently as the entire team held weapons aimed at the Alpha who had dared touch you.  

You shook your head.  “J-just a bruise,” and you were clearly shaken up, but no one would fault you for that.  

Loki nodded and slid his suit jacket off.  He wrapped it around your shoulders, surrounding you in his scent and safety.  He handed you, quite literally, to Thor.  A look passed between the brothers.  Thor nodded as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you to him.  His other hand held Mjolnir.  

Loki trusted Thor more than anyone else on this realm.  The pair had fought side by side for centuries, since they were old enough to hold weapons.  He trusted his brother at his back.

And he trusted his brother to protect his mate while he dealt with the danger.

That Alpha was so very, very fucked for daring to mess with Loki’s mate. 

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #omega mine #chapter 21 #nekoamamori

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #rowcan fanfic #lorcan salvaterre #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #crackship #throne of glass

[refriedweeb]

AND WHEN YOU’RE GONE I’M GODLESS (HAWKS + READER)

AN: refriedweeb here! this is a continuation of this oneshot that I did (so if you didn’t read the first one go and read it now!), as requested by @roseanddaggerlarry  ! I’ve had the idea of this spewing around in my head and wanted to get as close to canon!Hawks as possible! So here you go! If you want a part three/to make this a series, lmk!

Tags: angst, fluff, general feelings

word count: 3,443

A side effect of your quirk was that you dreamt the nightmares of those that you used it on. While your quirk was something that was magnificent in its own right, being known as nightmare often became a literal translation for you. It didn’t matter how short of a period you kept someone trapped in their reality-made nightmare, or how severe it was. You dreamt what they saw. And the worst part was that they didn’t go away after just one dream. You’d see them time and time again, blended into the reel of dreams from every person you’d ever fought or used it on. It was an awful feeling, not being able to dream your own dreams, see visions of happiness that everyone else got to when you closed your eyes. All you ever saw was nightmares. All you ever saw behind sleeping eyes was horror. 

The world around you might have been black, in various stages of coming and going consciousness, but there was one thing that stayed the same. It was the nightmare you’d brought out of Keigo Takami’s mind the minute you’d snapped on your promise to never use it against him. It ran through your mind like a child with reckless abandon, a constant loop that you couldn't shake from your mind no matter how much you strained to jump into someone else’s dreams that had taken residence in your mind. It was a violation of Hawks’ trust in you, even if he had been the one to attack you, skewer you with a feather and leave you no other choice. You had known that Hawks’ childhood was anything but normal. The Hero Commission that you both worked for raising him, if it could even be called ‘raising’. Trained as a weapon that was expendable, that served no purpose if it couldn’t deliver results. Wholly different from what you’d had growing up, you hadn't realized how deeply embedded in trauma his entire life was, even when you’d been hooking up. 

Trapped in the nightmare, the first thing you saw was Keigo Takami as nothing but a child. Avian eyes still too large for his head, sunrise colored eyes looking around the blank walls with innocence, curiosity, and the hint of fear. A head full of hair that even in youth had an unruly characteristic to it. Red wings that would become his calling card sitting politely, folded against his back. He was a child that had deserved better, so much better, than what he’d been given. There’d been so much that Keigo had suffered through just for the sake of being a hero, that it would have made sense if nightmare solely revolved around what the Hero Commission had robbed him of with his childhood. 

What you weren’t expecting to see was your place in it. 

You were stood not far off from where Keigo’s tot form was, mirroring that same age yourself. Young, with a skinned knee and gapped smile from the baby teeth you’d lost. Hair in high pigtails and eyes wide with the same emotions sprinting through Keigo’s veins. The tinier version of yourself turned around, and trotted over to him, holding out a sticky hand that had no doubt been dug into a sweet of some kind at one point.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” Came your excitable voice, young and full of life. “Your wings are pretty cool, can I touch them?” Before Keigo’s small, timid voice could even answer, there was a sharp tug on your arm. It caught you by surprise, and Keigo was helpless as a man dressed in a black suit started pulling you away from him. And though you were reliving Keigo’s nightmare, you were experiencing it through both yours and his perspective. “Wait, that’s my friend!” Came your cry, tossing a distressed look over your shoulder as you were both helpless Keigo and the scared child version of yourself.

“Wait...” finally came the small voice, shocking you how sad it sounded for a boy so young. You watched from the omniscient view as the handler that had come for you turned into something vile. With a grin too large and mines of pointed teeth that would have made a shark’s mouth look dainty. “Don’t...” Keigo’s childlike voice was a little louder, but still helpless. “Don’t take her!”

Defiance nestled in Keigo’s throat as he charged forward with his cry, running after you, seeing something only he could see while you were more than content to wander alongside a monster. His hand was outstretched towards you. A smile started to stretch across your features, glad to have this new friend coming with you, and reached a hand out in return. Only to have it sharply slapped away by the handler. You gave a cry of pain as you cradled your hand to your chest, about to cry when you heard Keigo’s boyish yelp of pain. He had been hit in the face, and harder than you judging by the welt of a hand print blooming against his cheek.

“Keigo...” you whispered, though your voice sounded further off, far from where you and your childhood presence were.

Young Keigo looked up at you from the ground, tears running down his cheeks. There was an indescribable pain there, and it ran deeper than anything you could identify with. For such a young child to have felt so much pain... “Kei...go...” you whispered again, extending a hand despite what happened, to cradle his head.

It was then that the scene changed, like the fast forwarding of a movie. The scenery swept past you in an unmarked blur until you settled into a new scene. There you were, a couple of years older and strapped into a chair. What looked like doctors were around you, a large needle filled with a substance of dreamy purple colors in it. They were whispering around you, a background of white noise you couldn’t decipher. Still from that omniscient point of view, you could feel your fear. The unease that gnawed it’s way through your belly running rampant. And there was anger, but you couldn’t detect the source. “Just think...if we can train her to turn her nightmares lethal, the commission would have a trained killer. Trapping someone in their nightmares to the point of heart failure...of fear...” came there trickling sound of one voice. “She could be the best hero the commission has ever produced...a weapon...” was another. “Alright then...inject her.”

Fear rippled our against your skin on goosebumps, and you start to fight the restraints as the syringe draws closer to you. “No!” You screeched, though it comes from the same far off place from before. You’re helpless as you snapped, kicked, and pulled as best as you could. “Don’t do this!” At the very same moment, you heard the overlapping sound of boots hitting the ground in a sprint, replacing the rapid sound of your heartbeat. While being both in that room and not in it at the same time, you saw an older Keigo bursting down the hall, the sound of boots belonging to him. His eyes are narrowed into predator-like focus, his breathing heavy as his wings extended out taking up the rest of the hall. His mouth moved, though he is silent.

“Keigo!” You scream this time, though still too far off for anything to register. His eyebrows narrowed over his eyes and he pushed himself harder. Pain erupted as the needle broke skin, the purple swirl of serum sinking into your skin. It sent a blur of blind pain coursing through your system, but all you could do is scream. Your voice feels raw, but there’s no noise coming out of it. The taste of blood is in the back of your throat, but you don’t feel any. Something collided with the window of the room you were trapped in, and through the overcoming haze you saw that it was Hawks. Anger etched into his face, beating his hands against the glass so hard you swore it shook. You screamed his name again, that same echo off in the distance vibrating through your ears. He screamed yours back, the sound a canon of noise as he continued to beat on the glass. There were tears in his eyes, a righteous fury that took your breath away. He was the source of anger, the need for rejection. You strained against your restraints, doing what you could to fight the wave of darkness that was threatening to overcome you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take Keigo’s hand.

The world around faded once more, the next scene opening up to you like the beginning credits of a movie. Once the camera focused in you see...Keigo dressed in his hero uniform, cradling something...no, someone. Your heart clutched as it zoomed in closer and closer until you recognize the design of your own hero costume. Keigo wasn’t cradling just anyone, he was cradling you. Through your omniscient point of view, you come to stand just in front of the two bodies, Keigo with his head bowed over you and you...limp. Your head is slumped over his forearm, though your expression is one embedded into your mind immediately. Gone are the pupils of your eyes, the entire eye filled with a black and white continuous swirl, like something a hypnotist would use. And from your tear ducts..there’s blood. It ran from your duct to your hairline. The look in your expression is vacant. The sound of Keigo’s sniffles, the soft sobs, it confirmed what you had desperately wanted to ignore. In this nightmare, you’re dead. And it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together.

Keigo Takami’s worst nightmare wasn’t what happened to him growing up in the Hero Commission, though the elements were there and you didn’t doubt that there would be more glimpses of this nightmare for the rest of your life that you hadn’t seen. Keigo’s worst nightmare was someone he loved, you, going through the same thing that he had been put through. Though it won’t do anything, as it’s a dream, you reach out a fragmented hand to touch him. Just as you went to do so, he looks up. He looked directly at you, wet eyes and broken expression. “Wake up.” His words sounded like they were coming from right behind your ear, and you blinked. “(Y/N), wake up.”

You snapped open your eyes and sat up in bed. Immediately, you’re aware of the pain in your stomach, in your arm from where Keigo had impaled you with one of his feathers. The room is spinning, and the air you choked down in order to get some focus on your world isn’t helping. Nightmare. Keigo. Where’s Keigo? Wait, why did that matter? He was a villain, he’d attacked you. The air in the room felt suffocating and you didn’t think you could possibly get enough of it. Your fingers wrapped around the blanket that had been on top of you, only to pause as you looked down at it. This was Keigo’s blanket. As the world stopped rotating at a disastrous pace, you realize that this is Keigo’s bedroom. A place you hadn’t been in for months, if not longer. 

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“You’re awake.” You looked to the sound of the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. But hearing the somber, tentative tone doesn’t change your reaction as you scampered out of bed. The sheets were wrapped up in your legs, and you’ve tumbled out of bed in an attempt to be graceful. The fall to the ground landed you on your injured arm, crying out in pain as you crawled. You’re still in your hero uniform, which means it couldn’t have been long. Right? Right? Keigo said your name, and you heard the flex of feathers as he moved. “(Y/N), stop, you’re injured. Sto-(Y/N).”

You’d grabbed the nearest thing to you and flung it at him. A pillow that had likely hit the ground when you had. It’s easy enough for Keigo to grab, and he dropped it to the side as he looked at you with a stern look. “You’re a traitor,” you spat. The strained tone from your arm is evident, and Keigo sighs. “You tried to kill me! You attacked me!” By this point you’ve kicked your legs free from the sheets. 

“Kid,” Keigo says, his tone one of warning. “Listen to me.”

You’re on your feet, injured arm clutched in your hand. There’s fresh blood, but you don’t pay it any mind. “Why should I? So I let my guard down long enough for you to finish the job? Go off with your best friends in the League?” Keigo took a step forward. You shook your head. “If you take one step closer I’ll do it again.”

The reaction of pain that registered in his eyes before quickly falling away, lets you know that at least for now, the distance between you is on your side. You didn’t care that you were shaking, or that the images of Keigo as a child, wobbly and teary-eyed were burned into your mind. As far as you were concerned in that moment, Keigo Takami was your enemy. “It’s not what you think.”

“You kicked me into a wall and then had the nerve to stab me in the arm.” You grit your teeth. “How else is it supposed to look, Keigo?”

Keigo looked to the side, avoiding your glance. Out of fear of you using your quirk again or because he actually felt shame over what he’d done, you didn’t know. Told yourself you didn’t care. But that image of that broken little boy...it haunted you. Keigo ran his hands through the windswept mess of his hair, and sighs. “I can’t...I can’t tell you.” His mouth hung open and he closed it before talking again. “There are things I can’t...I have to keep private.”

“If you think for one second, I’m not going to tell the Hero Commission that you’ve switched sides-” You started, but Keigo cut you off.

“They know.” It’s your turn to be breathless. Keigo looked back to you, the miserable and lonely look back in his eye. There must have been a question in your eyes, because he repeated himself. “They know. They asked me to do this. To be a double agent.”

“You attacked me like it was real.”

Keigo’s eyes dropped to your arm, and on instinct you tried to hide the fresh spot of blood that had appeared. “I had to.”

“Keigo I almost died because you were trying to kill me.”

“I would have never let yo-” Keigo stopped short, his tone full of anger at the idea that you thought he would ever let anything happen to you like that, taking a draw of breath in. You feel his fear, and your mouth hung open just slightly. “I wasn't expecting you to use your quirk on me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Keigo dropped his eyes. He wanted to know what it was you’d seen, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. You’d told him about the nightmares that replayed after you used it in the past. The last thing he wanted was for you to look at him with pity because you’d seen his nightmares. Keigo never talked about his emotions, too numb to them because of the things he’d done. The lack of love he’d felt throughout his entire life ever since he’d been whisked into the Hero Commission. For so long he’d been seen as a weapon, a tool to use. He hadn’t been seen as a human being in so long, and then there’d been you. Dropping into his life at some silly hero convention with a mischievous look and it’d been a face he hadn’t seen in years.

A face that he hadn't been able to save all those years ago.

He’d been shocked that you hadn't remembered anything, or rather, wouldn’t. But seeing you...not knowing that you didn’t remember...it made Keigo want to get close to you all over again. To protect you a second time around where he’d failed the first. If you had even a notion that his nightmares were more than just nightmares...Keigo didn’t want to be responsible for the meltdown, it was more guilt and weight on his shoulders that he didn’t think he could handle.

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Your voice was raspy from the hands he’d put around your neck, and you don’t doubt it’s bruised. Your mind wandered to a much darker thought than you wanted to acknowledge. If he’d been willing to go toe to toe with you like that, how many other heroes had he fought? Were any hero deaths related to him?

“I could...” Keigo rasped. “I could never do that to you. I tried to warn you, kid. I told you to stay out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you know that. We’re...I’m a hero, Keigo. I can’t let villains escape.”

“It had to be me. Dabi..Shigaraki...Toga...they would have killed you, you wouldn’t have stood...it would have been bad, (Y/N).”

You took a step back, feeling as if you’d been slapped. “You don’t think I could have done my job, is what you’re saying? So you toyed with me instead. To protect your mission when they’re running around reckless and hurting others! Killing us!” He dropped his gaze, his hands clenched. “This is why you cut me out, isn’t it? Because the Hero Commission set you up for this. Because Keigo Takami is the only one who can do any of the complicated jobs and he just can’t ask for help.” You didn’t now when you got so emotional, whether it was from the pain wracked in your body or because of the escalating situation with Keigo. 

“I can’t let anyone help me. Someone...” you “Could get hurt.”

“Fuck you, Keigo.” You needed out of his place. There’s too many reminders of everything Keigo Takami in that space. Of nights in that same bed. How he’d told you he wanted nothing more than that right there. And now to hear the fact that he was a double agent, that he couldn’t have even shared that intimate of a detail with you. It was because he didn’t trust you. It was because he didn't think you were capable. “For your information, I can take care of myself. I have always been able to take care of myself.” Your body protested as you moved, energized with the anger from feeling so demented by someone you cared about. Keigo gingerly raised an arm as you made your way towards him, perhaps in an attempt to stop you. To continue the conversation. But as far as you were concerned, it was over. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Your voice shook, not even caring that your vision was blurred from the tears you were doing your best not to let fall. You stomped over to the door, grabbing onto the handle of a place you’d always thought was incredibly lonely.

At least now you understood why. 

“You know what, Keigo...I get that you went through some awful things growing up. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I trusted you, I loved you, and I thought there wasn't anything too high for you to reach.” You scoffed, feeling one tear roll down your cheek. “Apparently there isn’t anything too low for you to go after, either.” With that you wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind you. For a moment, you leaned in against that door, the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes as the weight of emotions and pain and the awful reality that was both sank in. You couldn’t stay there for long, you knew that. You wiped the wetness at your eyes and pulled yourself together as best as you could, and left.

On the other side of that door, Keigo stood where your words had rooted him. His hand still raised, he stared down at his palm. There’d been so much he had wanted to try to say, to explain. But your anger had always been enough to plow down a city. Yellow eyes that usually burned so bright, were flattened down to a stormy sunrise. Keigo felt that guilt in his heart. That loneliness that he had only began to feel erased once he had you back in his life. How did he begin to tell you about what the Hero Commission had made him do in becoming a double agent when he couldn’t even tell you the truth about you? He would have denied any chin wobble as he looked down at his open palm, felt the overwhelming emptiness in his place start to settle in on his shoulders as it always did when he came home to it empty. “See you around, kid.” he breathed.

The knot in his stomach told him it wouldn’t be the last time he saw you. 

#keigo takami #keigo x you #keigo takami x reader #Keigo Takami x y/n #Keigo Takami angst #Keigo Takami fluff #Keigo Takami smut #keigo bnha #keigo mha #Keigo Takami bnha #Keigo Takami mha #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks angst #hawks fluff #hawks bnha #hawks mha #my hero academia #my hero academia oneshot #my hero academia fluff #my hero academia imagine #Keigo Takami imagine #Keigo Takami oneshot #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero x you #boku no hero x y/n #boku no hero #boku no hero hawks

[majoraop]

Another contribution for the One Piece Bingo organized by @op-pirate-fleet: a short story from Doflamingo’s point of view based on the “heroic gesture” prompt of my card. If you’ll enjoy this fanfic or find anything to fix please comment! ^^

The Untangled Puppeteer Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t like heroes nor believed in good endings.   Life wasn’t fair. When someone won, someone else lost (a loved one, freedom, a place to belong—the list could go on and on), and the ending that felt “perfect” to some might be unsatisfying to others.   Doflamingo smirked even if his head still hurt as the result of his opponent's “heroism”. Usually, people root for the protagonist—the “hero” of a story—and the people of Dressrosa had rooted for that stupid monkey. They had even called him their “saviour”. How naïve of them! They were not safe nor free when they still had to pay a gold tribute to those other monkeys sitting on their opulent thrones. But they will fall too, one day.   Soon.   Dressrosa's people had got excited for the fighting more than they ever had for the half-hearted colosseum skirmishes. They had wanted to see the "good guys" prevail against the "bad guys". In the end, while some betrayed him (as usual), some others remained faithful. Maybe, his “family” had a real meaning after all. Doflamingo smiled. He could claim that victory at least.   That Monkey D Luffy was interesting. While acting like a “hero”, he didn't consider himself one. He was different from most people: not after revenge like he and Law, but just a crazy free bullet that had only seen him as an obstacle to overcome. Sure, he had fought for Viola’s niece and the other people once he had discovered his plan, but Doflamingo couldn’t blame him: even if he had had his own rightfully reasons, he had still literally caged him and his friends. He had never seen someone fighting so fiercely to get his freedom back. Voices told the truth: Monkey D Luffy wanted to become the freest person in the world.   The Pirate King.   Doflamingo wasn’t surprised he hadn’t become a revolutionary instead. The Revolutionary Army fought for freedom, but its members were not free; they were too bond to their “liberty” ideal to pursue it for themselves. Pirates, instead, weren’t bound to responsibilities. Yet, that brat’s answer to his provocation (what’s the point of acting like a hero?) had still surprised him. If you cannot save everyone, why even bother? What good will bring an imperfect justice? His brother had acted upon “justice” too, but still a flawed one: he had “saved” a single child leaving the rest back with him.   Maybe, it wasn’t a matter of justice but hope. However, Doflamingo had learned as a child that there couldn't be real hope in an unjust world where the winners—the “heroes”—decided what “justice” was for everyone else. Doflamingo's bitter laughter startled the guards, and he savoured the worried glances they threw at him. So-called “heroic gestures” were just the result of egoism: a “good” one for some, but still egoism.   In the end, it’s just a matter of point of views.   Doflamingo wondered if Monkey D Luffy, too, had felt angry, lost, or lonely as a child. Sometimes, he might have feared for his life or someone else's (nobody wants to remain alone). He must have cried—all children do—even if some only cry in secret, when nobody can see them, and people end up thinking they are fearless monsters (Doflamingo still remembered the fire, the screams, his angry tears).   Why didn’t you understand, Roci?   He imagined his brother smiling light-heartedly, joking, making plans for the future together with Law.   Without me, your older brother.   He had loved Roci so much he had killed him to forgive him. For breaking free of his cage without permission. For putting his morals as a marine—as if they weren’t assassins too, and of the worst kind!—over love for his family. For leaving him behind. Doflamingo felt irritated with Rocinante for even giving up his goal—stopping him—to stay together with Law.   Someone so similar to me, not the less.   Law knowing that made it slightly more tolerable, but in the end, he too became free from his past.   But I won’t let it go.   Victims turned into executioners had condemned him and his brother when they were just innocent children. He could not accept such injustice—such “justice” of the masses—and had fought back with his Conqueror's Haki. After that, he had tried to protect his family: he had helped Roci surviving in the streets, brought food to their ill mother. He had tried everything, unlike their inept father.   Why wasting time asking for help from the same people who abandoned us in this hell?   His disgustingly good-hearted, foolish father! He had betrayed all of them to follow his impossible ideals, so he had killed him. He had done it for Roci, too. To save him from a terrible life. But it had been useless: the Celestial Dragons had never admitted them back to Mary Geoise, and his brother had run away.   His brother lost, Doflamingo still cared for his found family. He had mourned the death of Monet and then Vergo. He even felt remorse when they died for him, but that had been necessary in his ultimate goal to destroy the world: a world full of hate and discriminations, of prejudices and ignorance. People called him “Heavenly Demon”, and yet he had accepted in his family individuals no one wanted around. He did feel superior to the others, but he knew that they were all humans in the end, no matter how some still called themselves “gods”. No matter how he played along and claimed to be one too sometimes: it was just a game, an act. Doflamingo knew very well that his Conqueror's Haki wasn’t proof of some no-existing "birthrights". He deemed himself worthy of reigning over others only because he had earned that for himself.   Despite all of that and his unshakable will to survive, though, he had lost. Now, he had no right to choose how to die anymore nor decide what “justice” was; winners did that. Yet, he still had his curiosity. What would the Riku family do from now on? Did they expect peace on Dressrosa? He laughed again, amused this time. He could see hordes of pirates invading it since the very day he had fallen. What would Law do? He hadn’t killed him in the end, so maybe he felt empty, his revenge unfulfilled? Or did he find something or someone else filling the void in his existence?   And what about me?   Despite lying chained on the cold floor of a cell, he didn’t feel so bad. Had his (spare) glasses shattering at the end of the fight been a catharsis? At least, he deserved punishment this time around. He could live with that. It felt strange to think that his confrontation with that crazy monkey might have been the best thing ever happening to him. Even if in a way he had not predicted, that event had broken the spiral of deceiving and violence that had entangled him ever since he was a child.   For the moment, at least.   He still had plans, cards to play. Maybe, one day he would also find hope again—no, better leave such useless things to guys like Fujitora (apparently, the Marine admiral had become a fan of Monkey D Luffy). He would rather keep his prudent stance, the protection of his glasses up again against that shitty world: he didn’t care if, from the outside, that may look like a last desperate tentative to keep control over his life.   Probably, one day I’ll take them off myself.   As much as he didn’t believe in heroes, to see the world unfiltered and not through rose-coloured glasses would be a heroic gesture by itself.   How ironic!   In any case, he believed that his role hadn’t ended yet. Maybe, his defeat had been a necessary step before a new beginning. He would find a way to free himself and the remaining members of his family. He would probably find new people worth his attention and time, too. He would be even more careful from now on (he would still ignore the remorse that sometimes bit him). He was still alive, meaning that he had a second chance. At worst, he would even help the revolutionaries if that meant finally seeing the World Nobles’ demise. He knew firsthand the pain they caused to people, so he may connect with the revolutionaries—or maybe not. Not on a deep level, at least. He liked to have people around but couldn’t let his guard down, ever. Unlike his stupid father, though, he wouldn't waste his potential and hide away from his fate. He would take things into his own hands.   Not like a hero, but like a man.   Even if nobody ever really treated him like a human being. So, why should he act like one? Abused for being a (fallen) Celestial Dragon or supported as a king by his new family, there was no middle ground. His found family had recognised his worth but eventually used him as much as he used them. Probably, only that crazy monkey had ever treated him as equal. Despite fighting Monkey D Luffy had made him relive his past trauma with parallels worth of a well-written story, it had also made him somewhat free.   I can’t believe this just crossed my mind.   Was that a “side effect” of his opponent’s “heroism”? After all, Doflamingo had been the one making the cage, but he had still been at the centre of it, caged himself, as he pulled strings and controlled others.   But now, my threads have been cut.   He could start anew.

#opbingo2020 #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #onepiece #one piece #opfanfic #opfanfiction #majoraop #long post #(Probably Doflamingo is a bit out of character here since I tend to mix my own headcanons with canon stuff. ^^’ ) #(Sorry for not using the read more feature but that would count as a link and posts with links often don't appear in searches and tags...) #queued

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Eight (Not safe for work)

I'll say not safe for work just in case...but it's more about Belle's thoughts and feelings....so its like heavy on the dub con angst of what almost could have happened...actually finished reworking it over two hours ago, but then I slacked off hardcore on doing any proofreading...^^''

Her heart already so battered and abused, pulsed inside her now with an ever so erratic beat, that wild tempo producing a sound that was so furious that it felt like it actually HURT. It even seem to echo within her ears, and made for a harsh throbbing in her breast, Belle digging fingers into her chest over its place, in an unconscious display meant to contain that frightened part inside her. It still left her wide eyed and shaking regardless, the woman gathering her knees close to her body in an effort to huddle in close on herself. She made herself small, as small as the pirate had reduced her to actually feeling, the beauty struggling to breathe. That deep exhale of sound, was shaky at best, a great shudder working its way through her, the urge to outright start sobbing in hysterics upon her.

Even though she swallowed back such a sound, Belle still looked the part, her blurry eyed misery unable to truly emphasize the deepest depths of the pain and the fright that she struggled with still. The trauma, its scar running deep, a lasting wound having been inflicted that would see her bleed that hurt all over, the woman outright shaking from its effect. From it, and from him, the man—the pirate who was the cause of one potent half of her suffering. That broken heart the least of her problems now, Hook had put a real fear in her, the dread and regret that the young lady had started out with, magnified to new levels of extreme, the threat of him, of that which he still wanted from her, so pressing and real a danger, Belle menaced by Hook from the very second that he had swaggered into her cell in the queen’s prison tower.

It hadn’t gotten better from there, the man taking far too many liberties, stealing kisses and more, those inappropriate touches a herald of the dark promise that had been in his eyes. That lust that was so unrelenting a beast, the pirate taking every opportunity to let Belle know just how much he has wanted her. That body of hers that with which he wanted to make his plunder, the princess objectified by the expectations of his misguided desire. He had made her into this wild fantasy, some twisted dream like figure that had weighed her down with that need of his pressuring her to perform.

She hadn’t, she COULDN’T, Belle unable and unwilling to let herself be remade into this man’s lustful idea of a fantasy. Her desire dead, she was as far removed from the embodiment of sin and seduction as one could be, that teary eyed misery blurring her vision, the woman pale faced and sniffling, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed red from her crying. Even at her most pain stricken, Belle remained wary, watching the pirate while weeping. She also couldn’t stop glaring, conscious of his everything, from each breath that he took, to the visible emotion that played out on his face. He was frustrated, but also one part ravenous, his storm dark gaze still holding that desire, that hunger for her. He couldn’t stop staring at her in turn, and there was a fine tremor that worked its way through his otherwise still body, an indecision playing out in the thoughts in his head. He was all predator, like a great big jungle cat, a panther, ready to pounce at the slightest of provocation or weakness. She tried not to give him either one of those things, but there was no stopping her tears.

Exhausted by them, by him, and by this situation, she had been riding on her fright and that of her anger for too long. For the more than a day’s travel by horseback, Belle had been left on edge during the entire escape, set there on that precipice by the pirate, when he had burst into the room that had served as as her cage. What could have been a savior, had revealed itself with the true colors of a villain, Belle’s shock at his arrival, at seeing him again, lost to the anger that had ignited when the pirate had accosted her the very first chance that he had gotten. Tumbled down onto the cot of her prison, her outrage hadn’t yet given into a full blooming of fear. But when it had hit, it had hit hard, the fright something that began like a snowball hurling down a mountain, picking up size the longer that it went, until it had literally snowballed out of control.

Now they both reaped the rewards of a fear that had had time to build out of their ability to control, Hook stymied by Belle’s tears. By her inability to stop her crying, the miserable state that she had been reduced to, maybe the only thing capable of getting him to consider stopping at all. She was aware of it too, the effect her terrified state was having, every tear delaying what had become inevitable, that victory a bitter one though, born of the moment when the last remaining bit of her hope had been snuffed out. She couldn’t even muster a true anger in this instance, Belle a self loathing creature that was hating the fact that she been reduced to crying. To becoming this blubbering mess that had her feeling so weak knee and helpless. Made absolutely miserable by this, she was also embarrassed, having been brought low to such a humiliation, all powerless save for that of her tears and the effect that they had thus far had.

She wasn’t normally one to give another the satisfaction of her tears, especially a man like the pirate. But with her hope and her spirit broken, with nothing left to truly lose, Belle herself had shattered, breaking apart in his embrace. Pieces of her now scattered, the young woman had yet to attempt to gather them back, instead lost to the moment, and others like it, the beauty knowing that she would never forget, never be able to even try, every second spent with Hook, leaving its very brand upon her. Bodily and on her soul, and most searing was her mind, the memory of how he had frozen in shock with the realization of her tears. That confused look in his eyes, the grimace twisting his lips, the man both concerned and bothered by her response, all this and more were details that replayed in her head, Belle not just remembering it, but repeatedly reliving it. FEELING it, that clean masculine scent of him thick in the air, the sensual touch of his firm lips, and an even harsher rasp of his beard hairs upon her skin. The hand made calloused from years of handling weapons, caressing her body, lower and lower, until it had finally lodged itself between her thighs. Nothing had been able to prepare her for that, to protect her, least of all the thin fabric of her panties, his scalding heat communicated to her, it and that touch such an intrusive and unwanted thing. The fingers moving over her had made her go cold, a bone deep shiver felt a second before her entire body had gone tense. She had been freezing up, unable to relax, unable to give in, Belle beyond all hope in that moment, defeated and frightened, and trying her hardest not to cry.

Even that choice was taken from her, Belle bursting into tears. She’d never understand it, never understand HIM, the woman confused by that inexplicable reaction, the pirate having stopped at the sight of her distressed state. She didn’t know why, and Belle didn’t dare think it meant that Hook saw her as anything other than an outlet for his desires, and that of his own lofty and merciless ambitions. She was a pawn and his plaything, her body just one part of what Hook had been after from the start of this nightmare. Acting entitled to it, to HER, Hook not only making it clear what he had been after of her, but acting as if it was his God given right to get it.

He had even been so far gone as to think she’d be grateful, as though expecting her to have gladly thrown herself into his arms. As though she would happily prostitute herself for a rescue that she hadn’t even ask for, a rescue that was selfishly motivated by his own greed and nature. She was still telling herself that this was all part of a grander scheme, the pirate intent on bankrupting her kingdom. It was too inconceivable to imagine otherwise, too unsettling, too CRAZY a thing to risk his life and his crew on just for the slim chance of simply fucking her again.

So she clung to her own delusions, angry though they made her, Belle in denial as to the depth of Hook’s obsession, and the lengths it had already driven him to. She refused it, and she refused him, the beauty having no desire in her to even pretend to be grateful. She couldn’t ,not even to spare herself a world of hurt at his hand, for with that rejection and distaste made abundantly clear, the pirate had then tried to take what he had wanted from her by force.

That had to have been, without question, one of the scariest moments ever in that of her young life. And that was saying something, considering hers, had been a life that had seen its fair share of terrors, everything from the towering ogres that had had plagued and terrorized her kingdom, to the Dark One’s frightening tantrums and that furious rage, to even that of Regina, the Evil Queen a mad menace who would have ultimately KILLED the princess, once her lack of value made itself truly known. Yet for all that, the loss of control that Hook had made her feel, her choices that he had taken from her, and that of the feelings he had so cruelly discarded, had proven a million times worse than anything---anyone that had come before him.

Worse than the Queen at her most murderous, the ogres at their most brutal, and that of Rumplestiltskin’s own brand of devastating cruelty, Hook was at first seemingly far too predictable a man until he was not, Belle wondering if he wasn’t a tad touched in the head. Maybe more than just a little, the man surely insane! That or a fool, pitting himself to be an enemy of the Evil Queen, for a pay off that wouldn’t amount to all that much. Did he not know that her kingdom was a poor one, ruined and ransacked as it had been by those monsters? Or that they had little in the way of resources, and even less in gold, Avonlea simply too poor to pay the kind of ransom amount that would be worth all the trouble that they had been plunged into? There was no real profit to be made, off of Belle or off of her kingdom, Hook and his crew woefully misguided on the value that they had placed on her. For even if her father were willing to try and pay such a ransom, it would bankrupt the entire kingdom, and it would still not be enough. Avonlea then left beyond ruined, Belle and her father, the King, hated.

She couldn’t bear it. Not their hate, and not their pity, Belle no more willing to be the tool with which led to Avonlea’s downfall at Hook’s hands, than she had been at Rumplestitlskin’s. She was desperate to avoid it, to see her people saved, yet Belle had nothing in which to bargain for. Nothing with which to make another deal, that and the inability to make this pirate understand that there was no value in her, this ransom plan nowhere near worth the trouble it had already caused him and his crew. Belle was in fact an existence who had deemed herself without value, so useless a person that she already knew that just like the Evil Queen would have one day soon realized her folly, the pirates would too. They wouldn’t be able to get rid of Belle fast enough, Hook giving her the boot just like the Dark One had.

The tears that were ever present in her eyes, began to burn hotter, Rumplestiltskin’s face twisted in that awful moment of his rage, called to mind. He had been so close to throttling her with his bare hands, and had even gone so far as to bodily throw her past his castle’s front gate. He had been beyond furious, so livid and so creatively cruel, each word spoken meant to crush the woman, and bring her love to break apart . To do more than just break but to wither and die a painful and slow death, Belle cursed to know that it had been all a one sided love. That of a foolish infatuation, the young woman utterly gutted to the core to know that it had all been in her head, no real love or feeling in him There had been nothing, nothing between them for there to be anything past that of a beauty and a beast, that master and slave relationship, Belle part of a deal, a payment that had outlived its usefulness to him. Thoroughly crushed by his heavy handed spite, his words and those realizations had left only heart break behind. That part of her had split in half with a bitterness that Belle might never get over.

All of her feelings of worthlessness, had been born of that rejection. From that malevolent outrage, her innocent love spat upon. She would never be able to understand why he would value his power more than her, but the damage had been done regardless, the power of her love, her feelings severed so entirely, that there was no way that her kiss would hold true love effect on him. On him or on anyone else, Belle’s life having spiraled so entirely into chaos, prison after prison changing again and again, Rumplestiltskin, the Evil Queen, and now the pirate, each one tormenting her in their own way. Each a brand of trouble that seemed worst than the last, Belle tortured and feeling like it would never, ever truly end without her ending up dead. Caught in one power struggle after another, and torturing herself over her own perceived lack of worth, Belle wasn’t in any way thinking clearly. She hadn’t been for a long time now, and maintaining that heightened state of panic at the pirate’s hand hadn’t helped. It had led to a bone weary exhaustion, Belle not just tired physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. If not for her present fear, that of the pirate’s continued menace and what she expected him to still do, Belle would have literally dropped, collapsing into a dead faint after all she had been through.

Her soul itself tired, her emotions running the wild gamut of the spectrum, Belle didn’t even have it left in her to start screaming. At best she could only just manage a gasp, the pirate having drawn near once more. She’d flinch, her body outright recoiling from the look in his eyes, the blue of them made even stormier with his displeasure. Yet for all that tumultuous feeling that was in his expression, his hand was gentle as Hook went and cupped her cheek. His fingers felt along the wet skin there, his thumb tracing the rough path of her tears. That smoldering heat in him had simmered to a cooler degree, his expression turning inwardly harsh and unforgiving.

"Bloody hell." He then spat out loud, and abruptly the pirate was gone. The bed groaned in relief as the pirate's weight left it, Belle in a state of complete shock even after Hook had stormed out of the room. For the longest stretch of time, that stunned state of disbelief would steal even her ability to think, Belle unable to process what had just happened. She might have even fainted for a time, Belle numb to even that level of self awareness.

She wouldn't even know how much time had actually passed, before Belle abruptly launched herself off of the pirate's bed. Her actions automatic, Belle scrubbing at her face, and pulling at that too short tunic that had passed for the Evil Queens idea of prison garb. It kept riding up on her thighs, despite her fingers best attempt to control it, flashing far too much of her bottom with every little bit of movement. That would not do, Belle snatching a sheet off the bed, wrapping it thoroughly around her body, so that she was covered from neck to toe.

It wasn't much, but the sheet did go a long way towards making Belle feel marginally better. She felt shielded, as ridiculous a thought as that actually was, because Belle also knew the sheet wouldn't make one bit of difference in protecting her from the pirate's lust. But she liked the lie of it, the sense of control that it gave her, the sheet so warm and different from the skimpy clothing the Evil Queen had forced on Belle these past few weeks.

She shivered then, the prickling unease having nothing to do with the room’s temperature and everything to do with what had happened to her. The heart break and the tortures, the imprisonments, and the loss of any real choice. Anything and everything, and Belle didn't even know how much time she had lost! It felt like it had been an entire year that she had spent inside that tower, with no windows or way to know just how much time had truly passed. It had been an agony all its own, that small eternity of not knowing, and it wasn't just time that she had lost, but the simpler luxuries of freedom. Fresh air to breathe, the sun’s warnth to feel, and the beauty of the sky to see, and even that of the voices to hear. Belle closed her eyes for several seconds, breathing, living, just taking in the whole experience.

She’d inhale deep of the fresh air, its scent so wonderful and flavored with the salt of the sea. That same sea made the weather here cold, a chill permeating even inside the cabin. Belle shivered and delighted in even this, because it had always been a hot, stifling air that had cycled through her tower prison. A stale air, so recycled and suffocating, Belle opening her eyes and gravitating towards the cabin's round window and the source of her pleasure. She made no move to open it, just staring with a sense of awe and wonder at the sight before her, that of the sea that stretched on for miles ahead of her and that of the sun that was working even now to gentle the worst of the weather’s coldest wind, its bright brilliance lighting up a canvas that was made of both the open sky and the waters below it.

It was also more colors than Belle had been privileged to see in a long, long time, her tower prison having been a room of drab grays. The sky that she saw now was all manner of blue, with even faint lavender and that of the purest of white Belle had ever seen in a cloud. The sea below it wasn't a true blue, instead a sea green mix that sparkled with foam made white from the sun. Those waters rose in small waves that crested against the wooden hull of the ship, that sound a gentle, persistent slap that was a magic melody all its own. A gull's voice cawed from up high, Belle unable to see the sea bird from the window's vantage. She also couldn't see those responsible for the many other sounds that she was hearing, the people who shouted and laughed in a good natured manner, barking out orders, and working the ship to move.

It was a more joyful sound than she had been exposed to in God only knows how long, and it was wonderful. For the moment it didn't matter that these people were pirates, that they would hurt rather than help her. Belle reveled in the sound of their chatter, pretending she was elsewhere, somewhere safe and with friends.

She couldn't maintain the illusion forever, Belle turning away from the window with a put upon sigh. It still came out shaky, even though the worst of her tears had long since dried. Her fears still remained, Belle giving a positively venomous glare to the bed. And a just as uncharitable a thought to the man who that bed belonged to. But she didn't really want to think about Hook, not when remembering set her off trembling, the memory of the heat of his kisses and what he had tried to do, a sour note in her head that left her heart hurting badly.

Worse yet was those awful assumptions, that damn gratitude that Hook had expected of her. Belle felt a mix of anger and disbelief, scoffing at the thought that she would ever willingly do THAT with him again. Even if he hadn't hurt her that first time, even if he hadn't been so cruel and single minded in his own lust’s pursuit of its satisfaction. Even if he had made the sex as wonderful as the kissing had been, Belle wouldn't have laid with him a second time. Not when she told herself that he had only rescued her for his own sinister ambitions, intending to ransom her off and bankrupt her kingdom in the process. That was an insult she could not--would not take lightly, Belle as always ready and willing to protect her people from whatever threat that they might face. Be they the ogres or that of these pirates!

Cultivating a self righteous anger on her people’s behalf, Belle used the pain of it to fuel something other than her self pity and tears. It brought her no step closer to knowing how to stop Hook, but it also kept her from giving over to the hysterics. For this furious temper was effective when it came to what passed for her coping mechanism, the helplessness that Belle felt, a rage that had been steadily built on and perfected while in the Evil Queen’s merciless care. If it had a physical form and force to it, such an anger would have toppled even mountains.

With that anger moving her, it and her resentments and the many disappointments, Belle began to truly explore the inside of the cabin. It was a lot larger than the cell she had spent so much time in, this new cage that of an overly spacious room that befitted the captain of a ship as big and magnificent as the Jolly Roger had looked to be. It was also extravagant in design, Hook a man of expensive tastes when it came to his furniture and possessions. Fine mahogany wood, brand new leather bound books, rugs woven of the softest materials. Gold and silver coins spilled out in a careless fashion across a wide desk. Quills made of the feathers of the most exotic of birds, and the fresh ink to dip them in. Brightly colored jewels, rubies the size of her fist, diamonds bigger than she had known was possible. And all of it spoke of how ruthless a thief the pirate could be.

Convinced he didn't give a damn about anything but his own wealth and adding to it, Belle felt the fire of her anger build at the thought of Hook bankrupting her kingdom to keep on funding his expensive tastes and lifestyle. She was almost too angry to focus, Belle walking around, rifling through some of his things with the intent to find yet another weapon of some kind. It would still be absolutely useless in her hands, Belle unable to bring herself to actually kill anyone, but the illusion of protection it would give her would go a long way towards comforting the young woman greatly.

She then found herself kneeling before one of several other chests, Belle discovering that the lid opened up easily enough. There was only more gold and jewels inside it, so she moved on to the next one. It looked familiar for some reason, Belle prying the wood open, and reaching to pull aside the fabric that lay there in neatly folded piles. The woman didn't at first understand what it was that she was seeing, Belle ignoring the clothing, to dig deeper into the chest. The beauty stopped up short when she came across a familiar book, Belle certain that it was just a coincidence that the pirate had a copy of her favorite bedtime story. That certainty began to slip, when she noticed the book was as a worn as that of her own, its cover sewn back into place by a familiar and thick black thread. Its worn state didn't fit in with the new and well cared for books that she had seen among the rest of Hook’s things, Belle opening the book, and caressing shaking fingertips over the inscription inside.

It was addressed to Belle, with the loving words written by a mother long since dead and buried. That had her leaping galvanized into action, Belle actually looking at the clothing that she had set aside. Her hands shook harder with the realization that they were hers, all the pretty dresses and petticoats that she had forced herself to buy after Rumplestiltskin had tossed her out of his life. She didn't understand why the dresses were here, even the torn blue one, and Belle could admit that she wasn't sure she wanted to actually know. She began pawing frantically through the chest and the ones next to it. Finding more of her books and belongings, from her hairbrush and ribbons, to the perfumes and oils that she had favored. Everything was there, not a thing missing from the inn, the pirate having taken exacting care to collect each and every one of her belongings.

It was yet another inkling that gave Belle the hint that maybe something more was going on. That maybe the pirate had intended more than just to bankrupt her kingdom. But her mind wouldn't let her settle on what that other intention could be, Belle refusing to so much as consider that Hook had gone through so much trouble and risk just to have her again. It was simply a level of creepy she didn't want to dwell on, Belle disturbed enough by Hook and his lusts when it seemed just a matter of chance proximity.

She began repacking the chests, though she kept one of the dresses out. With the sheet still wrapped around her, Belle went to the door. To her surprise it wasn't locked, but then the bitter understanding filled her. Hook hadn't left the door unlocked because he trusted her, but because there was simply nowhere for her to go. She was on a ship full of blood thirsty, sex hungry pirates, and that alone would keep her in place, effectively trapped for the time being.

With a scowl that couldn't hide the hopeless and frustrated look in her eyes, Belle retreated to the cabin's private bathroom. This door was one that she made sure to lock, then quickly dropped the sheet. With a speed that impressed even her, Belle quickly got into and laced up the ribbons of a white and pale lavender dress. The skirts had a spring to them, the petticoat's ruffles filling them out nicely. It had a modest cut for a bodice, but even that little flesh on display seemed like too much. Belle quickly pulled the bed sheet back around her, covering up fully before she would leave the bathroom. She left the tunic from the tower on the floor, Belle never wanting to see that dark blue garment again. It wasn't the only thing that she never wanted to see again, Belle remembering the sinister blue of the pirate's eyes. She shivered and clutched harder at the sheet, remembering the heat, the raw desire, the hungry, predatory look that had focused unwavering on her. It was a look that she never wanted to be subjected to again, and yet it was a look that Belle knew she would have to endure time and time again, the pirate too fixated on lusting after her. With that focused intensity that desired to do more than just look, Belle not knowing if her tears would work a second time to damper the worst of his ardor. It was a bridge she knew that she would have to cross and soon, Belle fearing Hook and what he would do to her in the time that it took them to finally reach her kingdom. For now though, there was nothing she could truly do but take a seat by the window and wait. And hope that her unsettled, hurting heart didn't burst from the fright.

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

To Be Continued....

8/31/2021 Updated, seems a lot of the first half of these chapters tend to be what gets written. So big chunks there, with some minor tweaking in the latter half.

----Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #fanfic #fanfiction #killian x belle #belle #captain hook #KillianJones #captain beauty #Captainbeauty #The Broken Hearted Comfort #Dubious consent themes #smut #romance #season 2 cannon divergence

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Hola Mishamigos! It’s Friday and I am here with more nonsense from my SPN rewatch - dudes, we are all SLEEPING on Season 11, in both good and bad ways.  There is so much in just the first trifecta of “Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire;” “Form and Void;” and “Bad Seed” (since “Baby” deserves her own analysis) -  so come relive my rewatch with me.  This is a summary of some things that stood out for me (few are analysis, most are clowning; basically this is a pared down live tweet - you’re welcome/I'm sorry); copy/paste from the script is included with my own emphasis:

OUT OF THE DARKNESS INTO THE FIRE [11x01]

-There’s lots more to this episode, but really this is the most important and relevant part (also it’s too soon and I am offended, damaged, attacked and hurt) -

DEAN: Yeah, whoa. All right, take -- take it easy, okay?  (gesturing to the deputy’s wound) Bad guys?

JENNA: Rebar. I sought cover. I fell.

***LIKE EXCUSE ME, but what in the actual fuck.  Did they just decide to pull that from the episode four years later to emotionally traumatize us in the subsequent rewatches? I know it’s probably coincidence but my sad soul has not recovered *enough* for rebar’s first SPN appearance to be right now in this moment when I am blissfully 5 entire seasons away from the dead end in the road.

- The only other important part of this episode - when Dean takes the call from Cas privately first before putting it on speaker for Sam, and something about this exchange is so endearing-

(Dean’s phone rings) 

DEAN: Where the hell are you, Cas?

(The scene flips between Sam and Dean at the hospital, and Castiel in the woods.)

CASTIEL: I'm...I'm okay.

DEAN: You don't sound okay.

CASTIEL: Dean, I am fine. Besides, what I have, you can't help me.

DEAN: What do you mean, what you have?

CASTIEL: Just please tell Sam -- Rowena escaped with the Book of the Damned and the codex.

DEAN: Okay, forget Rowena. Where are you?

CASTIEL: Now, you tell me -- the Mark . . .

DEAN: Oh, really? You're worried about me after everything that I’ve --

CASTIEL: Dean, is it gone?

DEAN: Yes. I'm good. I mean, I'm not great.

CASTIEL: Makes two of us.  (Dean puts Cas on speakerphone) This is good news.

SAM: Hey, Cas.

CASTIEL: Sam.

***It’s just so poignant that Dean wanted privacy for the first minutes of that call, probably because he is still haunted about the beating he gave Cas in 10 and *other things,* and Cas is literally being torn apart by Rowena’s curse but he only cares about Dean getting rid of the Mark, and the world is ending but Dean only cares about Cas and where he is -  honestly this scene - I’m - 

***Further thoughts on the Animal Curse/Cas/Dean below under 11x03

FORM AND VOID [11x02]

(love the Genesis call back to this verse in the title - “And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”)

-speaking of emotional trauma, this fucking shit again -

JENNA: Yeah. I pretty much grew up here. Learned to ride my bike down the road. Had my first kiss at that blue house over there. Lost my virginity up there (pointing to different house).

DEAN: I'll bet blue house was pissed.

JENNA: She was. (handing Amara to Dean) Do you mind?

***This frustrated/disappointed/angered/saddened me to NO END despite already knowing that it happens constantly on the show, because what was the reason?! Did they have to point out that she had a female love interest for this brief moment just to turn her evil and kill her off?  There was no need to include this detail.  It’s either blatant homophobia or willful ignorance (so also blatant homophobia) that this is what representation means.  I won’t go on because obviously we are aware of this and much has already been said/written about it, but still, fuck this.

-we meet Billie and there is more “FORESHADOWING”-

QUEEN IS SINGING “OH DEATH” aka Death’s entrance song from Season 5 and I am BLOWN AWAY by this almost as much as her amazing voice - like did they know at this point she would become the new Death season later? DID THEY KNOW? I need answers.

Seriously, go listen to it immediately; bask in its glory:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFOm5i6b56o

We also get our first mention of the Empty, so that’s cute that they referenced both Dean’s and Cas’s Season 15 ‘demises’ in the same episode (it’s not cute really and I am crying again now) ->

BILLIE: You and Dean . . . Dying and coming back again and again. The old death thought it was funny. But now there's one hard, fast rule in this universe. What lives . . . dies. So the next time you or your brother bite it, well, you're not going to Heaven . . . Or Hell. One of us -- and, Lord, I hope it's me -- we're gonna make a mistake and toss you out into the Empty. And nothing comes back from that. I know you're dying. I can feel it. You're unclean in the biblical sense. So I'll be seeing you again, Sam . . . Seeing you real soon. Name's Billie, by the way.

-another reason for me to continue denying the flaming trash heap that they tried to call the series finale-

Sam is dying here because he has been infected by the Darkness-vein-animal-exploding-people-plague so he goes to pray about it 

SAM: So . . . I know it's been a long time, but . . . Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but . . . Please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life. There are people out there, good people, who are going to suffer because of me, and I am not asking you to clean up my mess. Hell, I don't even know if you're out there, but . . . If you are . . . And if you can hear me, I, um . . . We need your help, God. We need to know there's hope. We need a sign.

**DABB WROTE THIS F-ING EPISODE.  How are you going to write Dean deserves a life here to just do what you did Dabb.  Don’t get me started on my feelings about this scene in the dark depths of my finale-denying soul.   DEAN DESERVES BETTER INDEED, SEASON 11 SAM. 

To rub salt in this particular wound, they show us THE cutest scenes of Dean with this damn baby so we can have feelings about how great of a parent he could be (also I ADORE that whenever Jared, Jensen, or Misha have scenes in later seasons with young children/babies it is SO clear they slip into their own natural dad mode without even noticing it; these guys just all seem like excellent fathers and it makes me mushy) and even Crowley picks up on that shit and makes his little ex-boyfriend joke (after Demon Dean and most of season 10 there is no way I will ever NOT believe that Crowley and Dean did not take a tumble; I will take no criticism):

CROWLEY: The child likes you. No surprise, really. You're very maternal.

LIKE WHAT IS THIS:

Speaking of King Jackles, next comes the episode he directed ->

BAD SEED [11x03]

-Cas/Dean parallels with the Attack Dog Spell/Mark of Cain-

This arc appears in the 10 finale and then runs through the first three episodes, culminating in this one.  Despite it hurting my heart to see our angel so bloody eyed and feral, I LOVED this parallel; it’s truly brilliant - Cas’s reaction to the attack dog spell is such a mirror to the way Dean dealt with the Mark most of 10.  It’s also beautiful that Dean is the only one that can pull Cas from the spell’s control at the end of this episode; that alley scene between the two of them in 11x02 is so tender and sweet.  I like to think this brought an entire new layer of depth to their connection, because no one truly understood how Dean felt under the influence of the Mark until now (someone write a fan fic about this exchange!!!!!!) I *love* this journey for them (please say that sentence in Alexis Rose in your head).  Bonus that  the episode containing my most favorite of *domestic* phone calls with Dean and Cas follows this one, and also Dean’s SHORT SHORTS follow because now he is just walking around the bunker in short shorts while Cas is there and I maintain this is because of this new level of closeness.  As previously stated I ACCEPT NO criticism.

ALSO OF COURSE THE FACE CUP THAT JENSEN HIMSEF DIRECTED HIMSELF TO DO.  I STAN A KING. I HEREBY DEMAND AT LEAST ONE FACE CUP PER EPISODE OF THE MINI SERIES JENSEN.

***I just saw something posted by @watchthebeesandfish​ back in 2015 when digging around the internet re: this episode - that this was the first time both Dean/Cas had seen each other as “themselves” since that heart wrenching bridge scene in 9x10, when Dean walks away from Sam/Cas after the Gadreel possession reveal (he goes on to take the Mark of Cain in the following episode, and has it the rest of the season through season 10 finale). That is brilliant and accurate and I BOW DOWN in humility to that parallel.  I now love this scene a billion times more. *single [wo]man tear*   Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this little trip down memory lane, thanks as always for getting through my rambling,  and HAPPY FACE CUPPING FOREVER.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn family #spn fandom #sen season 11 #spn recap #spn analysis #spn clowning #heller #jackles #king jackles #but why not write an entire live tweet dissertation of my spn rewatch #spn subtext

[harry-sussex]

I really appreciate your thoughts about all the angles and ways Harry and Meghan (harry esp.) are responding and should be responding to the public and media! One thing this has brought up for me around the idea of struggles and how much people will listen/care, is that part of Harry's issue is that what he has identified publicly as problems for his mental health are things that he continue to seek out and participate in by choice. While mental health issues don't discriminate, access to help for that is not the same for everyone, and it is hard to watch someone with the ability to get the help they need AND make the changes to their life that will bring them relief continue to not do that, when those aren't options for most folks.

This is a good point. He has unlimited resources to get the help he needs and I understand that that can be frustrating to watch. I can't say I haven't been frustrated myself - to this day, I maintain that no decent mental health professional would let their patient receive intimate treatment on international television, no matter the cause. I don't necessarily mean to imply that whatever help he's getting is not working - I am not a professional and I'm not privy to the nuances associated with his mental health. He is a patient - same as the millions of other people in this world seeking professional help - and his team has to work out what's best for him, Prince or no Prince. He has the resources and clearly he's utilizing them to whatever extent that he and his team have apparently decided it'll be beneficial.

However. I cannot imagine that anyone would think it's best for him to go seek out, rehash, and relive the very things that hurt him to begin with. He blames the press for the death of his mother, so he goes after the press again and again and again until it's time to give an interview or write a memoir. He's burned by the institution but uses the Prince and Duke card whenever he has the opportunity (and I hate to say that, but someone like Harry doesn't become Chief Impact Officer without the HRH/Prince/Duke thing). Press coverage of and intrusion into his wife literally makes her suicidal, so he goes and writes a memoir that will undoubtedly revamp that same coverage, where she will be the problem even if he's the one writing the words because the public won't see it otherwise. He's traumatized by the camera flashes, blinding lights, and crowds - we haven't seen him much because of COVID, but I'll eat my hat if he doesn't start going to massive events where the paparazzi and photographers are just clamoring to get a photo of him (think the Lion King movie premiere). He's terrified that history will repeat itself but won't stop to think about how his actions aren't necessarily helping. What's the point?

I just don't get what the strategy is. Maybe it'll be cathartic for him, but I really think the benefits of that catharsis will be vastly outweighed by the reverberating consequences of his words. I don't want to see him struggle, I don't want to see him hurt, I don't want him to ever feel like his actions came back to haunt him or his wife in any way. I want him to continue to get help, to come to terms with the struggles and traumas of his life, to learn how to cope, no matter what it takes. I have always wanted what's best for him and I just don't see how continuing to drag this out in the media will support his mental health. If anything, I'd argue it will make it much, much worse, and I guess I wonder why a team that has unlimited resources at their disposal can't and won't see that.

#ask #anonymous #prince harry #duke of sussex #phmemoir

[salvatoreschool]

'Legacies' EP on Josie's Trauma, Lizzie & MG's Evolving Relationship & the Musical Episode

Legacies is without Hope (Danielle Rose Russell) when it kicks off its third season, and that’s not the only problem for the Super Squad.

After all, Landon (Aria Shahghasemi) won’t wake up either: Hope had traveled into Josie’s (Kaylee Bryant) subconscious when the other witch was consumed by dark magic, while he, as a phoenix, should’ve come back to life after being killed. But hey, at least Josie’s no longer pulling a Dark Willow (Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

Here, executive producer Brett Matthews previews the Season 3 premiere and the upcoming musical episode.

How’s Josie dealing with her post-dark magic binge?

Brett Matthews: You’ll see that play out pretty directly. It’s obviously a hugely traumatic event in her life and now that it’s over and she’s more herself, she will have to reckon with the actions that she took during that chapter. When you’re faced with a trauma like that, can you resume normal? Can you just go back into your old role, or have you fundamentally changed and does that change the dynamics with her and Lizzie (Jenny Boyd) and Hope and all of her friends around her? That is definitely something you will see her wrestle with.

How’s everyone else dealing with that?

The most surprising reaction is between her and Lizzie. As we open this season, first and foremost on everyone’s mind is dealing with the Hope of it all. That really is the question at the heart of the first episode because this show goes through Hope for us. Why won’t she wake up?

In terms of Josie, her relationship with Lizzie will be the one put the most to the test because they’ve always had a very crystal clear dynamic from the time they were little girls and that dynamic has shifted a little bit as a result of that [dark] chapter. Can they resume it or have they grown beyond it and it doesn’t quite fit anymore?

Hope and Landon are both unconscious. Who will be easier to bring back?

That really is the problem of the first episode. It’ll be a challenge, but the show doesn’t exist without Hope. She will wake up and rejoin the squad, but what does the world look like on the other side of her doing that and what problems do they face? The Super Squad is down their leader, and that really is the plot of the episode: to see some of our supporting actors get to take center stage in an effort to resolve a problem without their star player.

What’s the Necromancer (Ben Geurens) up to? Any new tricks up his sleeves?

The Necromancer is a tricky guy. He always has an angle. Now that he has all the black magic in the world, it is going to be a problem for our characters and he will not be so easily dealt with.

Lizzie and MG (Quincy Fouse) are growing closer. What are you exploring with those two this season?

That’s a relationship I really love. You will see Lizzie’s awakening to the person MG has always been and MG’s journey to being more of a leader within the squad and somebody who is not afraid to express his point of view. If those two things collide, does it bring them closer together? Does it drive them further apart? MG has an interesting individual development this season that will affect the relationship dynamic he has with Lizzie as the guy he’s always wanted to be with her. Is he growing into that role, or is his growth pushing him further away from her? He’s such a great guy and has always been her rock. Can she see him as more than that?

The musical episode is coming up. How is it honoring the franchise?

It really is. Julie [Plec] and I worked together on Vampire Diaries for so long, and that show just holds this very special place in our hearts. To go back and to revisit that world and those characters, that whole episode really is a love letter [to The Vampire Diaries and The Originals] brought to life by writer Thomas Brandon. To relive some of those storylines and characters that are the literal legacy behind Legacies was just the most fun ever. We’re lucky Legacies is a weird enough show to support us doing something like that.

It’s hugely emotional in terms of the story it’s telling but also for us hugely emotional in just getting to revisit those characters. We were sending pictures to cast members from the old shows and seeing their reactions. It really was a beautiful walk down memory lane. This show would literally not exist without the other shows. It was fun to explore that connection onscreen.

What are the chances we’ll see actors from one of the other shows on Legacies this season?

We have a very open door policy when it comes to that. If any of the actors from our past ever called us and we had the right story, we’d do it in a second. There’s always a chance, and if any did, I wouldn’t want to spoil those things. If anybody’s dying to come back and dip a toe back into this universe, just tell them to call me.

Legacies, Season 3 Premiere, Thursday, January 21, 9/8c, The CW

#Legacies #TheOriginals #TheVampireDiaries #TVD #HopeMikaelson #DanielleRoseRussell #JosieSaltzman #KayleeBryant #LizzieSaltzman #JennyBoyd #AlaricSaltzman #MattDavis #AriaShahghasemi #LandonKirby #MG #QuincyFouse #RafaelWaithe #PeytonAlexSmith #KalebHawkins #ChrisLee #LegaciesSeason3 #We’reNotWorthy #MysticFalls #SalvatoreSchool #DarkJosie #TheNecromancer #JuliePlec #TheCW

[espejonight28738]

15×09 "The Trap" Meta

Warning: As always, Destiel and Saileen positive so don't like don't read.

OMG guys I can't even this episode was something else. Like, for real.

First of all, it looks like I was right about Eileen being part of Chuck's plan.

"I helping to Sam the Bunker. To Sam. To Romance." Thanks Chuck for proving me right, but if you could please not hurt my baby Eileen and Sam while you do it would be awesome ;-;

Now if only I could be in the right about the happy ending...

But whatever. Let's talk about the prayer first, because I could talk about it for hours. Everything was so wonderful.

First, when Dean looks he only have 29 minutes left to find Cas, you could see all the trauma resourfaced. You could see how he was imagining ending up without Cas again. Having to go back home (although he didn't seem to be going to the portal when right before he found Cas, but I have no certainty about it) and leave Cas behind, and he imagined himself reliving the guilt and the hallucinations and the hopelessness.

[Gif by the amazing @agusvedder because I want you to look at him and tell me that ain't the look of a man who just imagined losing the love of his life again]

And, above all, Dean imagined having to live through it all knowing he never fixed their relationship. Rowena's words about not waiting until it was too late must have been ringing in his ears. And he knows that he needs Cas to know.

Purgatory's pureness gave him a new understanding of his emotions, and I'm not talking about the anger (it's obvious Dean already knew he had that problem), but the need for Cas.

"Cas, buddy, I need you." That same need, mixed with the possibility of losing Cas yet once again was enough for Dean to just break down in the middle of a land of abominations.

And the first thing he says. "I should've stopped you." Can you see how he is telling us we were right all along? Cas said "I left but you didn't stop me." And now Dean knows he could have.

If he had tried to talk, if he had asked Cas to stay, maybe he wouldn't have left. Dean put himself through that depression (the even heavier drinking, comfort food, the coldness) .

[And as an author note. How was that real? "You didn't stop me/I should've stop you" The Brontë sisters WISH they could write that levels of angsty romance.]

And, having Dean finally admitting to his very real anger issues gives me very high hopes for everything else. It's not like his problem will disappear, it does was kinda beaten into him, but having him admitting it is recognizing it as a standing problem between Dean and a Happy Future, so we can assume that will be another one of the problem they'll tackle in the rest of the season.

(Or maybe they'll forget about it. But s15 has been so good until now that I'm hoping they won't ignore it.)

And Dean calling Cas his best friends. Holy mother of God. I know I made several jokes about it, but it truly is so significant. Because words like "Family" and "Brother (and sister for Charlie)" are ones Dean had given other people. But Best Friend is only for Cas, it puts him in a special place in Dean's live no one else shares.

Maybe it's not exactly the place we want him to be in (yet), but the fact alone that they recognize once again how Dean and Cas' relationship is different to the one they have with anyone else.

So when did found Cas and said "Okay, Cas, I need to say something", I agree we wasn't about to repeat his prayer.

The Prayer (the fact that Dean got on his damn knees, for god's sake) was a moment of absolute vulnerability and emotion. Dean grew up in with a "no emotions" mentality tought to him by John, and so we seldom see him show this kind of raw vulnerability by choice. Considering that the Winchesters (as always, I include Jack and Cas in there) are an experts in 'I screw up and you got angry but then we had a bigger problem so we kinda left it behind us bc we are family and I love you anyway, or we just move on without never really discussing it' but not in actually apologizing, I would go as far as to say this was probably the most heartfelt apologize we've seen in the series.

I've watched the scene like a million times, and he just carries an attitude of doing something big. Like a big reveal, not like repiting himself.

Because he knew Cas heard him. The reason he said "I hope you can here me, that wherever you are, it's not too late" it's 'cause he was afraid Cas had died. That is was really too late. Once he saw Cas was alive? I don't think Dean doubted for a second Cas had heard him. He was hoing to say something else.

Cas clearly didn't want to take the risk of Dean telling him what he truly wanted to hear- what he had wanted for years. The risk of his deal with the Empty hovering behind hime. He couldn't be so selfish as allowing himself to hear it, just to abandon Dean right after.

Then Cas interrupted him.

Or abandoning Sam when he was at God's mercy, or leaving the World SavingTM to them. He couldn't. Dean doesn't even now about the deal.

I cannot tell you how much I loved it. Not in a "I want this to happen" way, of course not, but in what it means.

That's why Dabb said this episode wasn't the resolution. There's still much unsaid between them, if you believe there is an 'I love you' somewhere there. I think that's what has my hopes the highest. Because if they are only bff, then why didn't this solve everything? What is left hanging? I don't want to clown but it's literally the only thing that makes sense in my opinion.

And now, let's talk about the future Sam saw.

Sam and Dean don't need only each other to be happy, they need other people. That's basically what that future said.

"What's happened to you Dean? Ever since..."

"Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we ever cared about?"

[There is like a 2 second pause here that I feel very important andd significant. The separation between what 'everyone' and 'Cas']

"Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah." [Jfc you can hear it pains him to say Cas' name]

"Bobby had a death wish and you know it. And Jody? Ever since what happened to Donna and the girls, she does too.

And after Eileen? So do you."

He's acknowledging everyone's breaking point. Jody's was Donna and the girls (we don't know exactly which one was the last straw, as we know that at least in Claire's case they died at different times). Sam's was Eileen. His was Cas.

And he is very clear in that. We can't know what happened first, but we know that Sam asks what happened to *him* and he says it was Cas going crazy. It was having to bury Cas alive what made him lose all hope. Because at least he can hope they ones dead can find pace, but Cas? Dean, and for how he said it he probably did it alone, had to bury Cas knowing he was going to be there for the rest of the time. Suffering alone. Dean knows how it's like to have the Mark.

That broke Dean. And having Sam wasn't enough to put him back together.

And after Eileen somehow died again, Sam just stop caring about living, he just care about taking down as many monsters as he can before he dies. 'Death wish' Dean called it. He would know about that, he is Dean "You wanna die" Winchester, after all.

Having Dean wasn't enough for Sam to want to keep on living.

"We lost, brother. We lost. I'm done."

They still have each other? Yes. Is that remotely enough? No. That's what the future told us. They need more than each other, they need other people.

But there was a little something else that made it even more beautiful.

"The Dean who raised me [...]"

Let's be clear about something, I think the show never gives enough recognition for having raised same pretty much by himself since he was 4 years. The situation was totally unfair to Dean and yet he never once took it out on Sam, he just look out for him, cooked for him, and make sure he could be as much of a child as the situation allowed, that is a lot more than Dean ever could. In his own words, he wasn't just a brother, he was also a father and a mother.

I just want to cry for thinking how hard that was for both brother. And Sam knows it, even if he doesn't always acknowledges. So the fact that he chose the words "the Dean that raised me" when "the Dean that I know", for example, would have conveyed the sentiment as well, is significant.

They wanted to remember how important they are for each other, how much they love each other. They don't dismiss that, they are making sure we remember that, at the same time they are telling us the alone aren't enough for a happy ending.

They are telling us what we need for a True Happy Ending.

Dean and Sam still being close brothers and loving each other, but allowing themselves to love and need other people.

Okay I'll go to the point.

A HAPPY ENDING IS SAM AND THEN HAVING OTHER PEOPLE IN THEIR LIVES WITHOUT LOSING EACH OTHER.

A HAPPY ENDING IS THE END OF THE TOXIC CODEPENDENCY AND THE START OF A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP THAT INCLUDES THEIR RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

You guys now I've been saying they are hinting at it since my meta of "The Rupture" but this ain't foreshadowing THEY ARE SCREAMING IT. Like I can't come up with a radically different interpretation.

So this episode only got my hopes for endgame Saileen and Destiel (the destiel maybe not at canon as the saileen, but heavily hinted at least) even higher. Specially for the parallel with Eileen having Dean's doubts ("I don't know what's real") and Sam making kinda answering the same ("We are"/"I know that was real"). Btw I'll be screaming because of that for the rest of my days.

[BONUS: Random questions I can't seem to answer.

Does the angels even know God's going bersek? I mean, Belphegor didn't know it was God the one who broke hell... but even Lilith's been brought back. Do they know Micheal's back? God I don't know.

Was that really a possible future? Or it does was like a Zacharaiah tactic? Why does Chuck's abscence makes monster go crazy? Wasn't the point that it didn't unblanaced the powers?

Story-wise, why ain't Cas in next episode?

Was that the last mention of Claire? An off-screen hypotetical death? Please someome let me see my girl again.]

Tagging: @metafest @verobatto-angelxhunter @agusvedder @legendary-destiel @that-one-fandom-chick @studio-hatter

#supernatural meta #spn s15 #spn 15×09 #dean winchester meta #sam winchester meta #destiel meta #destiel #saileen #eileen leahy #castiel meta #my metas

[arofili]

HURT/COMFORT EXCHANGE PROMPTS:

This is a very sketchy list of prompts for the Hurt/Comfort exchange. Feel free to ignore/adapt these as you choose. My TPP prompts are in the signup itself, not in this letter; this just has Tolkien prompts. My Russingon prompts are all grouped together despite being split into two different requests in the signup. See my signup for DNWs/general likes/canon preferences.

~~~

Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (hurt Maedhros) Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (hurt Fingon) Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (both hurt) the OTP <3 I just love em. Most of these are going to be hurt Maedhros, but hurt Fingon is ALSO very good, I love it when the expected dynamic is inverted. But the expected dynamic is expected because it’s VERY GOOD CONTENT, so go with that if you want to!!

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: Maedhros discovers Fingon has been fighting his battles for him, has mixed feelings about this

Character A reassures Character B they are still loved: this is the GOOD SHIT. fingon reassuring Mae he is still loved post-Thang ;-;

Experiencing Another's Pain Through Psychic Bond, Soul bond means A can feel B's pain even when B is trying to hide it: could work either way, but probably Mae having a flashback to Angband or his aches and pains getting to him, and Fingon can tell even when he tries to hide it

Body worship focusing on the scars and aftermath of trauma: Finno still finding Mae extremely sexy post-Thang

Careful Sex Because One Partner Is Injured/Ill: post-Thang first time? or maybe Fingon gets injured in a minor battle but is still very horny, lol

Carrying sick/hurt/exhausted character to bed: tiny but buff finno carrying his giant husband to bed!!!

Character A hurts Character B (at their request) during sex but Character A immediately regrets it: Fingon hurts Maedhros at Mae’s request, immediately regrets it - basically kink/boundary negotiation

Masochistic sub asks for more pain than they really want: the inverse of the above prompt

Character A is in despair and Character B offers hope: this is literally The Russingon Dynamic, i love it SO much!! bonus points if Finno literally shares his hope/estel with Maedhros through their soul bond

Character A made to live through/experience B's worst memory: more soul bond angst :)) Finno reliving one of Mae’s worst moments? or Mae realizing Just How Bad the Ice was?

Past Rape Accidental Reveal - Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Rape, Character A reveals they know something B has tried to hide and reassures B that it changes nothing: Maedhros tries to hide something that happened to him in Angband (probably sexual abuse but it could be something else), Finno had already figured it out and it didn’t mean change how he felt about Mae, but it still really bothered Mae - now Finno realizes how much it’s bothering Mae, and reassures him

Character believes they're (turning into) a monster: post-Thang orc Mae??? 👀

Character didn't want to be brought back to life: Mae committed himself to Everlasting Darkness, thought he was beyond forgiveness/redemption, killed himself so he would Cease To Be - but now he’s suddenly reborn and has to deal with that, with Finno’s help of course

Hurt A expects B to take advantage of them. Is stunned when B doesn't, Character expects to be punished but is unexpectedly comforted instead: post-Thang Mae in a fucked up mental state expects Finno to punish him for some minor indiscretion, but Finno comforts instead

Past Rape Accidental Reveal - Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Rape, panic attack during the first time they try to have sex after rape, Dissociating During Sex, Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Trauma, Character Should Safeword But Doesn't, Character has no sense of their own boundaries: post-Thang Mae struggling to understand consent and dealing with sexual trauma ;-;

Character increasingly bothered that their love interest walks so willingly into danger: Mae has a not-so-subtle death wish, Finno gets upset that he cares so little about himself

Character used to past traumatic sexual experiences is confused by genuinely loving partner: post-Thang Mae with Fingon. in this case, bonus points for them getting together for the first time AFTER Angband, so Mae only has bad sexual experiences before this...

Characters live together while one recovers from hurt: Maedhros lingers by Fingon’s side for longer than he really /needs/ to post-Thang

Coping with past rape through sex: this one probably makes more sense if they were already together before Angband, Mae learning to enjoy sex with Fingon again. Maybe Finno expects that Mae will only want to be on top given what happened in Angband, but actually Sauron liked to force Mae to be the top, so he prefers bottoming now?

dealing with grief by fucking: post-Bragollach Fingon is grieving but doesn’t want to think about it so he fucks his husband instead

edgeplay due to thin line between kink and trigger: post-Thang Maedhros figuring out his boundaries

Slow Burn - Soulbonding is the only way for A to save seriously injured B's life, healing energy transfer accidental soulbond: immediately post-Thang, Maedhros is bleeding out and Fingon soulbonds with him to save his life. could be that they were pining but not together before this, OR that they had a messy breakup and this comes at a really awkward stage in their relationship but now they’re basically married

Humor as way of dealing with pain/trauma: Mae with gallows humor that makes everyone uncomfortable...except for Fingon, who Gets It

Impact Play - inflicting pain until character breaks down in much-needed emotional catharsis: Maedhros deserves to get spanked until he can cry :)

just because they're immortal doesn't mean they can't suffer: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA this is just. THE ENTIRE SILM. ESPECIALLY these two.

kink(s) as coping mechanism: Mae has now figured out what his boundaries are, and Finno has too, and now instead of it being scary they can just enjoy tying Mae up and hitting him and Finno being possessive

Loyal character loses object of their devotion; doesn't know what to do with their life now: fealty kink!!!! but post-Nirn :)))))))

Mutual pining during slow recovery from near-fatal injury: Russingon getting together post-Thang

Physically Injured Character Comforting Emotionally Distressed Character: Fingon is extremely upset about having cut Mae’s hand off, Mae comforts him

Slow gentle hesitant touches to help character who's used to rough or falsely-gentle touches: Finno helping Mae relearn to enjoy touch

Touch-Starved - Only seeks out touch from one trusted person: no one dares touch the infamously stoic Lord of Himring...except for Fingon, who drapes himself all over him whenever he visits...is Lord Maedhros just tolerating the prince for political reasons? but wait...is he leaning into the touch???

Touch-Starved Character Having Overwhelming Tender Long Foreplay First Time Sex: first time post-Thang, Fingon is incredibly gentle and loving which is really overwhelming for Mae (in a good way)

Accidental arousal while cuddling for comfort: mutual pining (probably in Valinor)

Being bathed while mutually pining: post-Thang pre-relationship, Finno is the only one Mae trusts to bathe him

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: Finno thinks Mae is unconscious post-Thang? OR recovery period time, they’re sharing a bed bc Finno passed out exhausted from a long day of tending to Mae and Mae confesses when he thinks Finno is asleep

Character A thinks they are unworthy of Character B: Maedhros thinks he’s not good enough for Fingon - bonus points if this is BEFORE Angband, and he’s always had self-worth issues

Character(s) ashamed of their sexual desires: very similar to the above, Maedhros has always had messed up ideas about what he Should Feel

Characters Are In Love But Duty Will Keep Them Apart Forever Until Something Makes Them Do It: idiots mutually pining <3 perhaps an arranged marriage situation??

Comforted with homemade meal: Mae’s love language is food, he makes something for hurt!Finno

Comforter tries to comfort with a homemade meal. It doesn't end well: Mae’s love language is food, so when he needs comfort Finno tries to make something for him, but Finno is a terrible cook

Comforter stunned by how much comfortee trusts them: Finno doesn’t understand how Maedhros can still love him after he cut Mae’s hand off

Comforting character is in denial about attraction to other character: MUTUAL. PINING. and repressed Mae :))

Delirious hurt character & comforter are hiding their relationship from other people present: post-Thang married-in-Valinor, Finno shows up with Mae on eagleback and it’s very hard to keep their relationship a secret when they’re upset like this and Mae is delirious with pain

Estranged Characters - Injured A shows Up on B's doorstep Saying "I didn't know where else to go": This would probably be some sort of AU (like a modern AU, idk) where Russingon broke up ages ago but suddenly Mae shows up on Finno’s doorstep and they have a long and awkward getting-back-together process :’)

Fate tries to keep them apart: is this not just canon? :(

Gentle Kissing: SOFT BOYS PLS

Hair Brushing: hair kink!!!!!

A has to listen to loved one B being slandered/insulted/mocked: Finno has to listen to people shittalking his husband, he can only hold it in so long before he goes off on them

pining character thinks object of their affection loves someone else, Nervous about confessing love - Misunderstands and thinks it's for someone else: GOD TIER MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE, i love this shit, especially if it’s Mae who messes up so bad Finno misinterprets and Mae is usually very eloquent but NOT WHEN IT COMES TO THIS

Pining character reveals their feelings while not quite lucid (hurt/drunk/etc.): a young drunk Finno confesses to Mae in Valinor? Mae confesses to Finno for the first time in the midst of his haze of pain post-Thang?

A protects B despite damage to their own reputation: Finno will stand up for Maedhros NO MATTER WHAT

Refusing to Leave Other Character's Side: Maedhros and Fingon stick together no matter what - possibly an AU where things go a bit better?

A rejects B despite the pining being mutual due to insecurity/outside circumstances: this is another EXCELLENT trope for these two, especially in mutual pining in Valinor - Maitimo wants Finno very badly but is convinced the politics of it will make it impossible, Finno keeps trying anyway until finally Mae loses his resolve

Secret Relationship Revealed - Consequences Are Disastrous/Deadly: ...and maybe Mae was RIGHT and when they get found out All Hell Breaks Loose

Committing a moral wrong for the sake of other character: Finno rushing into save Maedhros at Alqualondë :)))) and knowing he’d do it again even if he understood what was going on......

Curse Breaking: TRUE LOVE DEFEATS THE OATH

Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt: Finno survives the Nirn...at a Cost

Falling Asleep As A Sign Of Trust: Maedhros has trouble sleeping, but he can relax around Finno ;-;

Character has to learn new way of fighting following injury: Finno helping Mae to learn to fight with his left hand

Character Can Never Make Up For Murder: Maedhros and Fingon both grappling with being Kinslayers

Hurt character who believes they don’t deserve comfort begins to accept they do and accepts comfort: this is EVERYTHING i want,, Maedhros learning to love himself!!!!! AHHHHHH

Pining A saves B's life at great cost to themself then hides it from them: pre-relationship, Finno saves Mae from Thangorodrim but keeps nobly pining all on his lonesome despite Maedhros dropping every hint that he’s madly in love with Fingon

Sharing a bed with hurt character while mutually pining: delicious at any time, but especially if they’re sharing a bed during Mae’s recovery time post-Thang

Recovery from permanent loss of limb(s); love interest builds/brings a prosthetic for them: the Noldor are a crafty people, I bet you even Fingon was a bit of a smith! he makes a prosthetic for Mae :) OR he bugs Curufin to make one and delivers it to Mae

Waking from a happy dreamworld to a painful reality: soft fluffy Russingon.........except it was a dream and when Mae wakes up Finno is dead :)))))))))))

Waking up from nightmares while sharing a bed: Mae has a nightmare post-Thang, Finno comforts him

Helping hurt character to dress/undress: erotic undressing and scar reveals post-Thang? 👀

~~~

Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë (both hurt) Maedhros | Maitimo & Sons of Fëanor (hurt Maedhros) Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (hurt Maedhros & Maglor) Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (hurt Elrond & Elros) I requested this with Kidnap Dads in mind, but there’s a few ideas I have for Maedhros + bros angst too :) Overall, please hurt Maedhros (and then comfort him) - even when E&E are the ones hurt, I imagine their guardians will be upset for them!

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: for Kidnap Dads, the anniversary of the attack on Sirion. for Mae + bros, anniversary of Fëanor’s death? or the Nírnaeth? or Mae’s capture? something like that.

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: shortly post-Thangorodrim, Mae discovers that his brothers have been defending him against people who no longer trust him because of his time in captivity

Character draws negative attention onto themself to protect another, Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: Mae defending E&E from an outside threat!!

Character A reassures Character B they are still loved: Mae’s bros reassure him, or Mae and Mags reassure E&E

Memory issues make character forget details about their friends: post-Thangorodrim Mae with memory issues

Character draws negative attention onto themself to protect another, Character A claims they're Character B to save B from danger: Elrond or Elros pretend they are the other one so early-KD M&M will get mad at him instead of his brother (but M&M aren’t actually mad)

Character A is in despair and Character B offers hope: E&E & Maglor giving Maedhros hope in late-stage Beleriand!!!!

character A overhears sth that makes A think character B doesn't want/like A anymore (A is wrong): Maedhros overhears something that makes him think his brothers/the twins hate him?

Character A panics/overreacts over B's minor hurt/illness: M&M overreact to E&E’s minor ailment because elves don’t get sick but the twins are peredhil!

Character A sees Character B cry for the first time: E&E see Maedhros cry for the first time

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: I know this is meant for like, romantic interests, but the image of E&E’s two sets of parents disapproving of each other is hilarious. Please don’t have either of them be Truly Awful Parents, but animosity/tension between them (much to E&E’s dismay) is excellent

Fix-it - Character survives canonical death, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt, Character expected to die but didn't and has no idea how to live anymore. Other helps & comforts: Maedhros lives AU!!!

Character isn't used to being loved and shown tenderness/affection: touch-starved Mae who hasn’t been properly loved since Fingon died ;-; (not for Maglor’s lack of trying but he also had a lot going on, and kids are better at getting through to Mae in any case)

Character taken prisoner; expects torture/humiliation; gets kind & honorable treatment: E&E expect the worst from M&M, but M&M immediately start being their dads

Character who can't offer much comfort does what little they can: Maedhros doing what he can to comfort E&E

Character who thinks they aren't well-liked is shown evidence that other people like them: E&E help Maedhros see how much the Fëanorian followers respect him

Character who's killed before comforts character forced to kill in self-defense: OH BOY this is a BIG OOF. I was specifically thinking of magical healing here, Maedhros and Maglor trying everything they can to keep Elrond and Elros from having to kill but then Elrond does have to kill something and he’s really beaten up about it, and Maedhros comforts him

Tolkien: Healing power blocked by killing: very similar to the above prompt - Maedhros used to be a healer but can’t anymore, still tries to teach Elrond; Elrond feels powerless because to heal he can’t fight

Characters know exactly how to hurt each other emotionally: Maglor and Maedhros being absolutely vicious to each other in KD era, E&E comfort them and get them to make up

Childhood Nightmare Turns Out To Be Very Real: E&E grew up hearing horror stories from Elwing about the Second Kinslaying, now it’s the Third Kinslaying

Comforted with homemade meal: Mae who loves to cook!!!! comfort food for the twins!! comfort food for his bros after an argument!!

Comforting Cuddle Piles: Mae is feeling down in Valinor and his bros all pile on top of him :’) or KD era would also be excellent

Curse Breaking: E&E are immune to curses, and help M&M defeat the Oath?

Family Feels - Fraught Sibling Relationship: This could go for any of Mae’s sibling relationships, but specifically early days KD era Mae and Maglor have been mean to each other for a long time since the Nirn, but now having the responsibility of E&E they have to work together again

Hostage Situations, Guilt-stricken character does good deeds to try and make up for past actions: Is this not M&M adopting E&E?

Hair Brushing: ELF HAIR TRADITIONS! bonus points if it’s different/not so important for humans/Sindar elves, but Valinorean elves like M&M place a huge emphasis on hair care

Having A Difficult Relationship With A Parental Figure: E&E looking back on their time with M&M and/or the abandonment they faced with Elwing and Eärendil (please no character bashing, but complicated feelings is good)

Hurt/sick character hides their own condition to allow less hurt/sick character to be treated: Maedhros hides his hurt so E&E can be taken care of first :)))

loss of voice: Maglor loses his voice, E&E & Maedhros care for him

music used to cause harm: Maglor teaching E&E songs of power!!!

musical healing: Maglor teaching Elrond magical/musical healing

Sibling unexpectedly cares/helps: Maglor expects no help with E&E from Maedhros, Maedhros immediately goes into dad mode anyway

Sleeping in the same bed because one character is too scared to sleep alone: E&E crawl into Mae’s bed after a nightmare when they usually go to Mags instead

Smaller/Weaker Character Tries to Shield Hurt Character With Their Body: M and/or M get hurt, E&E try to protect them despite being Baby

Unexpected Mercy - Character Who Believes They'll Be Tortured/Killed Begs Mercy For Another: Elrond begging M&M for Elros to be saved or vice versa

Traumatic discovery of biological parentage: this is the odd one out here, but it’s related I promise - Russingon baby Gil-galad realizes that Maedhros is his dad, is really upset by that, but E&E help him cope

~~~

Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Turgon of Gondolin (hurt Turgon) Aredhel & Turgon of Gondolin (hurt Turgon) These are mostly Turgoldo ship prompts, but there are a few sibling relationship ones too!

Aromantic character unsure how to comfort friend with relationship troubles: Aredhel having trouble comforting Turgon amidst his pre-marriage woes? Or even worse, her having trouble comforting him after Elenwë’s death

Pining after your best friend who just lost their significant other: FINROD @ TURGON

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: anniversary of Elenwë’s death :(

Accidental arousal while cuddling for comfort: Finrod and Turgon on the Ice, Finrod is Very Aware of his crush and is super embarrassed OR Turgon hates himself for getting aroused so soon after he lost Elenwë

after much pining & almost dying A (bloody & bruised) comes straight to B & kisses them in public: post-battle Turgon finally reciprocates Finrod’s love ;-;

Being Cared for by Their Unrequited Love Interest: Turgon being cared for by Finrod, he knows Finrod is in love with him and wishes he could reciprocate, OR Finrod thinks his love is unrequited but Turgon is really just horrible with feelings

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: I was thinking Finrod to Turgon here, but also the other way around would be 👀

Character A panics when B starts crying during/after first-time sex; B reassures/comforts A: Turgon gets very overwhelmed when losing his virginity? OR Turgon gets very overwhelmed (with guilt?) having sex for the first time after losing Elenwë? OR Finrod gets very overwhelmed because he never thought he’d actually have this with Turgon?

Survivor Guilt, Character blames self for what they went through: Turgon blaming himself for Elenwë’s death :))))

Character Finally gets a Hug: Turgon gets hugs despite trying to push people away ;-;

Character's lie has unintended terrible consequences on loved one: Turgon lies by omission about Aredhel’s death (he lets Fingon think she’s still alive)? Finrod pretends he’s over his crush on Turgon JUST when Turgon finally reciprocates?

Character(s) ashamed of their sexual desires: Turgon is massively repressed

Comfort focusing on little hurt because the big hurt is massive and unapproachable: Aredhel and/or Finrod dealing with some minor injury and not mentioning Elenwë’s death

Comforting character is in denial about attraction to other character: Turgon @ Finrod

Comforting someone who is dealing with grief and loss and has shut themselves off from everyone: Turgon is almost nonresponsive after Elenwë’s death, Finrod and Aredhel take turns caring for him and for Idril

Nearly losing someone reveals deeper feelings, First kiss after almost dying: Near-death experience leads Finrod to impulsively kiss Turgon!!

Hair Brushing: elf hair kink pleaaasseee, this is especially relevant to Finrod tbh

Trapped/Injured in a Cave-In, Snowed In - A gets hypothermia and pining B has to cuddle them back to health, Huddling For Warmth: on the Ice :))

Inexperienced Character is Afraid of Not Being Able to Sexually Please Experienced Partner: Turgon @ Finrod

Longing For Home: this is literally why Turgon built Gondolin to look like Tirion...probably Aredhel comforting him here

Losing beloved: Turgon losing Elenwë...and then maybe his reaction to losing Finrod too :(

Pining character reveals their feelings while not quite lucid (hurt/drunk/etc.): an injured Finrod blurts out his feelings for Turgon? a drunk Turgon confesses he loves Finrod? - either way they were Not Ready for that revelation

pining character thinks object of their affection loves someone else: Turgon misinterprets the situation with Bëor? Finrod bemoans his fate at Turgon and Elenwë’s wedding?

Typically stoic character breaks down and admits how ill they feel: Turgon keeps all his emotions locked up in his chest but he breaks down one day and Finrod and/or Aredhel are horrified at just how much he’s been repressing

~~~

Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (hurt Legolas) Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (hurt Gimli) Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (both hurt) all Gigolas is good Gigolas, and you can quote me on that, but I nominated with the & symbol because my very favorite kind of Gigolas is queerplatonic Gigolas. would absolutely die of joy if you wrote that for me!

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: this is probably before they’re good friends - Gimli finds out Legolas has been defending him to elves or Legolas finds out Gimli has been defending him to some dwarves, basically “wait he really cares about me??”

Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: battle buddies :)

A and B have a troubled past; forced to work together: enemies/rivals to friends!!!!

A and B have to work together to help injured mutual loved one C, A and B mourn death of person they both loved: Aragorn gets the short straw here, he’s either hurt and L&G have to help him before they’re really close, or it’s after Aragorn’s death and L&G are preparing to go to Valinor

Hair Brushing, Back rubs/hair stroking to help a character sleep: elf hair kink PLEASE, Gimli discovers that running his fingers through Leg’s hair will make him zonk out :’)

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: mmmm maybe Legolas to “unconscious” Gimli? And then Gimli cracks an eye open and is like “you really mean that, laddie?”

Character A doesn't know how to comfort Character B: cultural differences are intimidating

Character A falls asleep on B's shoulder: height difference :D especially if it’s Leg falling asleep on Gimli’s shoulder!

Character A thinks they're about to die and voices their feelings for B; but oops A survives: again I think this is probably Legolas confessing because he’s Dramatic

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: this is the GOOD shit!! Thranduil disapproving of Gimli? Glóin disapproving of Legolas? excellent shit right there

Character comforts their platonic soulmate: OK so I am Particular about soulmates but in this scenario, let’s go with the soul-bond angle instead - Gimli getting used to a soul bond he never expected to have bc dwarf? Legolas instinctively comforting Gimli through a soul bond Gimli doesn’t know how to reciprocate with?

platonic cuddling for comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling: it’s just cute

Immortal Character A deals with B's mortality: Legolas in denial that Gimli is mortal, especially in Valinor (I don’t want Gimli dying fast in Valinor, but like...he will die eventually, you know?)

Neither comforter or comfortee will directly acknowledge that comforting is taking place: still in the transition from rivals to friends phase :)

~~~

Kíli/Tauriel (hurt Tauriel) Kíli/Tauriel (hurt Kíli) Fíli & Kíli (hurt Kíli) Fíli & Kíli (hurt Fíli) Fíli & Kíli (both hurt) There’s a good mix of brotherly prompts and Kiliel prompts here - and quite a few where Fíli and Tauriel work together for Kíli’s sake!

Aromantic character unsure how to comfort friend with relationship troubles, Character A doesn't know how to comfort Character B: Fíli comforting Kíli about his hopeless love for Tauriel

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: anniversary of BOTFA/almost dying, anniversary of Kíli getting poisoned

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: Tauriel discovers that some dwarves (including but not only Kíli - Fíli, Bofur, Óin are good options since they were together in Laketown) have been defending her from other, more prejudiced dwarves

Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: Kiliel in BOTFA?

A's unrequited pining found to be requited while B helps them recover from serious injury: the athelas scene!!

Aftermath of Tragedy/Catastrophe: Tauriel post-BOTFA (canonverse), Fíli and Kíli in an AU where Thorin dies, Kíli and Tauriel in an AU where Fíli and/or Thorin dies but Kíli lives

A and B have to work together to help injured mutual loved one C: Fíli and Tauriel don’t always get along but they work together for Kíli’s sake :) - this could also work with the athelas scene

Being bathed while mutually pining: Tauriel bathing a sick Kíli? Kíli bathing an injured Tauriel? Bonus points for them both being very 👀 about each other’s bodies and how elves/dwarves are different than expected

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: Tauriel post-athelas scene confessing to Kíli after he’s already said his “she walks in starlight” thing

Character A panics/overreacts over B's minor hurt/illness: little Fíli overreacting about Kíli’s injury/illness? Kíli overreacting about Tauriel because he doesn’t know how lef healing works, or vice versa?

Character A realizes their love for character B when B is hurt/sick: the athelas scene!

Character A thinks they're about to die and voices their feelings for B; but oops A survives: Everyone Lives AU where Kíli confesses everything more plainly before he dies, but then survives

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: Dís and Tauriel angst!!

Character won't stop getting up no matter how many times they get hit: Kíli protecting Tauriel! Tauriel protecting Kíli! Fíli protecting Kíli! Kíli protecting Fíli! Or heck, even Tauriel protecting Fíli for Kíli’s sake, or Fíli protecting Tauriel for Kíli’s sake!

Dying Character Comforts Already-Grieving Comfortee: Kíli dies in Tauriel’s arms 😭

Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt: please hurt Fíli very badly (I have a fic where he loses a hand, something along those lines) but Kíli is there for him and unwaveringly supportive

Fake Dating While Mutually Pining & One Partner Gets Hurt: Kiliel fake dating AU!!!

First kiss after almost dying: Kíli and Tauriel finally get to kiss and it’s super emotional! ooh maybe Kiss of Life, where Tauriel’s kiss brings Kíli back?

Fix-it - Character survives canonical death: kind of basic for this fandom, but I’m a sucker for it anyway. Maybe for this exchange, just one of the Durins lives and the others have to deal with it (with Tauriel there making things complicated, especially if it’s not Kíli who lives...)

Hair Brushing: hair is very important to both elves and dwarves, Kiliel miscommunication about this :D

Immortal Character A deals with B's mortality: Tauriel dealing with Kíli aging

Refusing to Leave Other Character's Side: Kíli standing with Tauriel despite Thorin threatening to exile him? Or just “I belong with my brother” 

#tmi anna #exchange letter #hurt comfort exchange #hcex

[jarofrebuke-transcripts]

Jar of Rebuke Episode 10 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 10: Observations A

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

DARIUS

Hey Jared! Uh… guess I called in at a bad time, huh? I just wanted to give a quick call to chat? Nothing serious, everything’s okay, don’t worry, I just want to check in. We’ve both been really busy the last few days, but I thought I’d see if you wanted to… I don’t know, grab lunch here soon? I know work’s got your schedule pretty full so we can meet up during your lunch break? I know the Waytooth has $1 pie slices around lunchtime, and their strawberry rhubarb pie is to die for. I think you’ll like it. Also, there’s a part of your birthday present I never actually got to give you? I kinda wanted to give it to you when it was just you and me, but we didn’t actually have any time to ourselves on your birthday? It’s nothing big, I could even just, uh, send it to you if you prefer. Anyways, just give me a call when you got the chance. Or text, that’s cool too. We could meet up whenever, as long as my dads know and give them a heads up, it’s fine. Well, besides Saturday. We have some maintenance that’s gotta be done and I already promised to help. So, any day besides Saturday. Um, hope you’re having a good day? Talk to you later.

JARED

I am such an idiot! Does Darius really? Uh, I mean, how long has he? I’m, I’m so dense! I got this voicemail this morning when I was in the shower. I thought about just calling him back but it felt… weird. I was a little concerned and Very confused so, well, I called Jamie for advice. She’s quickly becoming my go-to for, well, things like this. Literally all she did was call me a dense bitch and broke down for me what apparently was obvious and I… well, now I don’t really know what to do. So, Darius likes me. I mean, I guess it kind of makes sense. He did put together a party for my birthday. It was small, cozy really, but he really put a lot of thought into it, which he really didn’t have to. But that’s not necessarily romantic, right? It was on the Chapman farm, and there were all sorts of decorations and things to eat. Everyone that came bought something and it was really nice! Some were homemade dishes, others were things that people brought in from places in town. And it was all delicious. It wasn’t too big, which I was really grateful for. But there were quite a few people that I’ve learned to call friends. Including Holly and some of the folks that I haven’t really seen since the snipe hunt! And Jamie said that he wouldn't have put all of that time into making me a cake if he didn't really… well, it was actually kind of cute. He got all flushed when he presented it because the icing was sort of falling apart and, oh, shit, he likes me.

[Grove walks to Jared] Hey buddy. I don’t really know how I am supposed to feel or how to respond. I haven't really been in this sort of situation, at least not that I can remember. Ugh, gods, what if I'm a bad partner? No one’s bothered to come looking or reach out, or… I have to really think about it. But I don't know what to say to him until I figure it out. I have to get back to him eventually.

Hmm. Anyway, in other news, I brought up the moving shadows I have been seeing to Dr. Daman. Apparently it’s rather common to have stress-induced hallucinations like those, especially with my trouble sleeping recently. She recommended that I try sleep aids, but I’m not really sure on how I feel about that either. There’s nothing wrong with people that need them to sleep, that’s all well and good. But something about chemically forcing me to sleep? I don't know, it just kind of rubs me the wrong way, I don’t... [sounds of Grove pawing at something] Hey, what are you getting into over there? (sighs) Grove has been sniffing around the house a lot lately. He did that when I first took him in, which is to be expected, but he’s just kept sniffing around. It’s like he’s searching for something, I don’t, whatever. Dogs do strange things, that doesn’t exclude hellhounds, I’m sure.

(sighs) Speaking of the whole Darius thing, we actually got to go sledding a few days before my birthday too. It was really nice. It was a lot colder than I expected. I know, I know, that yeah it’s snow, it’s cold, but it’s different when the cold is outside of your clothes than when it gets literally everywhere. But I don't know, it was exhilarating. But in a really good way, not a “running desperately for your life” kind of way. Holly ended up Beaming Darius with a snowball, their aim is brutal. He flew right off the sled and into a snowbank and he came up covered in snow, looking like a snowman. I don’t think I've ever heard him laugh like that before. It was just so refreshing to be able to just live, to just exist with my friends for a little while in a way that distracted me from my own thoughts. Because when I get to thinking too much, I don't like what comes to my head. I think too much, for one thing, about work, about my nightmares, about this upcoming career day that I agreed to. If I do a bad job, which I’m sure I will, I’m going to let Anika down. The thought of that basically gives me hives. All of this stress led to Dr. Daman suggesting that I try medication again. I was hesitant, of course, but she said that if I don’t wanna try sleep aids I could at least try mood stabilizers or something. Last time I tried meds for my mood it did jack diddly squat for me. She suggested that we try a different type of medication and at this point I am willing to try pretty much anything to help with these thoughts and the mood swings. I hate being so unstable, I hate having no real reason to feel sad or anxious and yet that is all I can feel.

So I've started up another medication. They say it will likely take a few weeks to kick in, so we’ll just have to wait and see. And I can’t tell if this is just general anxiety or if I am anxious about the medication itself, too. Not like it can make things much worse right? [knocks] Knock on wood at least. I really gotta stop saying things like that, I know it will just invite things to get worse. Like I still keep catching glimpses of that shadow around my house. Dr. Daman is sure that it’s just stress. Mr. Zimmer doesn’t even think that it’s there. I know it is, I’ve seen it in my peripheral. Sometimes I see it behind me, over my shoulder in the mirror. I never see it for long though, just glimpses. I know it’s there, it’s gotta be, right? Mr. Zimmer says that it’s all in my head, that I’m imagining things. At least Dr. Daman gives a reason as to Why I would be seeing it, but Mr. Zimmer is sure that there’s other things I should be focusing on. Like remembering. We’ve started something called accelerated resolution therapy, or ART. He said it’s typically usually used in treating things like trauma, which he’s pretty sure isn’t my issue, especially since I don't even remember anything, but it is rooted in memory, so we’re trying it out. He basically makes me move my eyes back and forth, walks me through a scene, and I sort of relive it in my head. It’s used to rewire emotional responses, I think? But we’re trying to see if it helps me remember anything. And so far… nothing. Mr. Zimmer is fairly certain that I’m just not trying hard enough, but I’m trying as hard as I can, I just can’t remember anything. I think he got a little huffy with me after our last session didn’t bring up anything too terribly substantial to the surface, which I hated. Both his frustration and the lack of progress. So I did tell him about that sweet smell back at the school that flew me into a panic after smelling it? Smell is the sense most closely linked to memory right, so it’s gotta be something. He seemed curious about it and had me describe the smell. The faintest sweetness, a mild smell. It smells good, almost too good. The word that he used was an ethereal smell, which, sure, I guess. But how ethereal can it be if it causes me to break into a sweat and feel the need to run? He dismissed that question, took some notes, and then carried on to the next topic as if I hadn’t even mentioned anything. Nothing.

I don't even want to bring it up with Dr. Daman at this point. Recently it seemed like she steeled her resolve to help me and has been more active in figuring out what’s going on. But we've been at this for years now. I'm not sure what we could do that we haven't tried before. Unless I'm just not trying hard enough… No. I am trying my hardest to remember, but it just feels like I’m slamming my head against a brick wall more than I’m actually remembering anything. I touched on my nightmares again, but they both just chalked it up to stress with work and fitting in with the community. Which, you know, Dr. Daman used to be so supportive of me going out and mingling with those in town? But now, just so flippant about it. Like she couldn’t care less either way about it anymore. Whatever.

(sighs) I guess I should give Darius a call back here soon. I just have no idea what to say. I don't wanna change what we have, i don't want to lose what we have, but… i don't know. I’m not opposed to the idea of dating I guess? I just… we’re good friends, I really like being around him and everything, but just because I’m a good friend doesn’t mean I will be a good partner. I’m always so busy with work, and I have no clue what it means to be in a romantic relationship. And if we Were to date, what kind of relationship is built on so many lies? Yeah, sure, I try to usually tell at least a half truth or whatever when I can, but it’s still kind of lying. He doesn't even know the real me! Would he like me if he did? All this baggage and whatever else that I’d bring into the relationship? What would he say when he realizes I only have two years of real life experience. That I rebound from death with nothing to show for it other than more scars and some bodily discomfort. He’s asked about my scars before, the little ones on my hands and arms, mostly. But I think I've caught him looking at the ones on my face. I don’t… I don’t like it when people stare at them. And he doesn’t stare, but still. He’s taken notice. He’s asked what happened and I told him, oh, you know, general hazards of life! He chuckled at it, but I don’t think he fully bought it. He still seems concerned from time to time, but I think he just tries to help me keep my mind busy and keep me trying new things when I’m not weighed down by work. He’s… a great guy. A good cook, a great teacher, a great friend. When I’m low energy, he’s always down to just sit with me and not do much. When I want someone to talk to he’s always there to listen, and to chat, as long as he’s not busy with his work or his own classes, which did wrap up last month, so we’ve been spending a bit more time together. I introduced him to Jamie, it was a bit in passing, but they seemed to get along well. I was just showing Jamie more around town after getting lunch, we’d actually been heading back to my car when we bumped into him outside Mrs. Weddington’s Bakery. They were like two peas in a pod pretty quickly. I’m going to try to have us all hang out here soon.

(sighs) But I… I gotta talk with Darius one on one first. Gods, it’s so much easier to interact with the creatures that I study, to be honest. People are just [Grove starts growling] more complicated? At least for me. I don’t- [Grove knocks over something] Hey, hey, woah, what- what’re you getting into? What did you- [Grove snarls] Is that… a camera? When, when did that get there? Shit, are there more? [audio distortion] Uh, no, you know what? No. Screw that. This is my house, I am not gonna have this shit in my own house! [static rises then cuts off]

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is created and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. Darius Chapman is voiced by VynVox. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Episode was edited by Chelsea Finley. Episode was written by Casper Oliver and Jenny O’ Sullivan. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. If you’ve been enjoying us, please consider leaving a rating, review or comment, wherever you tune in. You can also support us on Patreon or Podhero by following the links in our episode description. And special thanks to our patreon supporters, Tristan, Perry, Devin, Becky, Nico, Danny and Joyce.

#jar of rebuke #jar of rebuke podcast #jor podcast #jar of rebuke transcripts #aaaa it's done it's here thank you for your patience folks!!!

[marril96]

Tonight

Chapter 1: Pointing Fingers

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, Dean

Summary: It was supposed to be a happy, carefree outing. After tonight, however, nothing will ever be the same for you and Rowena.

Editor: @rowenaisfabulous

NOW…

 There were bodies all around. Limp. Lifeless. Cold. Shells of the people they used to be; people she didn't know, but, for some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, she felt for. As if it were her fault they were dead.

It wasn't.

The majority of them, at least.

She threw a quick glance at the guilty ones, at the ones she was at fault for. Her face contorted into a look of disgust. Her stomach, empty of food, of drinks, of everything for she hasn't had a sip or bite of anything in hours, churned with unease, with discomfort.

She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be with them, around them, even if they were no longer on this earth.

In Hell, she hoped they were. That was where they belonged. Where they deserved to go for what they did.

For what they tried to do.

She lowered her gaze to her lap. She was sitting on the floor, amidst the dirt and blood and bullets, and cared for none, for nothing was important anymore, nothing was sacred and pure. Your head rested on her thighs, eyes closed in a dream. A dream that, it seemed, lasted for hours.

You would wake. She knew you would. That wasn't what she feared.

What scared her to the bone, to the very core of her soul, was that you would remember. You would remember, and you would suffer, and you would blame yourself. Even though it was her — and, most important of all, their — fault, you would be adamant that it was yours.

It was the way you were. Loving. Caring. Protective to death.

Literally.

She swallowed a sob at the memory, willing her face to remain cold, emotionless. A single tear slid down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away, and it fell to your forehand. A wet, bitter smear on your skin.

She tightened her hold on you. Never, she swore to herself. Never again would she let it happen. She'd hurt her loved ones enough. You were supposed to be different. She promised you would be different, that she would protect you rather than ruin you.

Great bloody job she'd done!

The door creaked open, shaking her from her thoughts. She stiffened, on alert, and prepared a spell. The deadliest one she could think of. Done was her resolution to defend herself without killing. After tonight, one wrong look her or your way warranted death. She couldn't take any more chances.

"Rowena?"

The voice calling her name was familiar, as were the footsteps that accompanied it. She relaxed, but kept her defenses up. Just in case. She couldn't take any chances.

Sam crept in, gun in hand, cautious, a hunter in action. Dean was in tow, equal in stance, in preparation, in caution. Ready to attack, to shoot and ask questions later.

Who would have thought he had the right idea? Rowena certainly not. Not until tonight, until all the work she'd put in bettering herself, in making herself an ally rather than a villain, was thrown to the wind as the reality of the world around her dawned on her, harsh and unforgiving. Reminding her why her heart had hardened all those years ago, why she'd forced herself to abandon love in place of hate.

Love hurt. The world, cold and cruel as it was, made it hurt.

She wouldn't let it. Never again.

"Rowena?" Sam repeated softly, kindly. The tone of a friend, worried and curious.

"Sam," she willed herself to say. The word was small, quiet, scratching at her throat, painful from disuse, on its way out.

The hunter looked around at the sea of bodies strewn about the place. Then his eyes landed on her lap, on your unconscious form lying on it, and his cautious expression morphed into that of concern, of sheer, bare worry. "What happened?"

"Y/N got hurt," Rowena said. Louder, almost panicked, she added, "You've got to help her!"

You would be okay. The damage — the physical kind — wasn't life-threatening, wasn't permanent. But you were still hurting. You were in pain, and you weren't supposed to be, and she needed Sam — or Dean or Castiel or anyone, she didn't care — to fix it. To make it right. To get you better as soon as possible.

Rowena looked at Sam, locked her pleading eyes with his. "Please, help her! Please!"

She would throw herself at his feet if she had to. Beg on her knees. Offer herself to him. Nothing she hadn't done before.

Then, it was for her. For her survival.

Now, it was for you.

There wasn't a thing she wouldn't do for you, her dignity be dammed!

"Of course," Sam said in that voice that made her trust him a year ago, that made her confide in him. The voice that promised kindness and delivered. "It's gonna be okay. You're both gonna be okay."

I don't care about me, Rowena wanted to say. He could leave her there to rot, for all she cared. What mattered was taking care of you, getting you away from this place of horror.

She was about to say as much when Dean asked, echoing his brother's earlier words, "What the hell happened here?"

Exactly that.

Hell happened.

A memory of screams and blood and gunshots flashed through Rowena's mind. She shook it off, threw it back to the corner of her mind. Now was not the time for reliving trauma. She could do it after you were taken care of.

"We can talk about that later," Sam said in a placating manner, as if he'd read her thoughts. Ever the mediator. "Why don't we get you guys home?"

Home.

Rowena's heart jumped at the idea.

She missed home. Missed the warmth, the protection, the safety.

If the two of you had stayed there, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. You wouldn't have subjected yourself to lifelong trauma.

For her.

Because of her.

If she'd just said no…

"Please," she whimpered.

A pathetic thing she was. Desperate. A wounded dog begging for help.

There was a time when she would have shuddered at the mere thought of the Winchesters seeing her this way.

Back then she hadn't loved you. She'd had too much pride and nothing to lose.

A simpler time, it was. Less hurtful.

Still, she would throw her pride and dignity to the wind before going back to that. She was a horrible person then. Cold. Heartless. A wicked bitch who killed and stole and ruined without a care in the world, without a shred of remorse.

"Don't worry," Sam assured her. He knelt down and looked you over, brought a hand to your neck to check for a pulse. His eyes scanned the injuries marring your skin, the blood soaking your clothes. "She's gonna be okay."

I know, Rowena wanted to say. I want her to be okay now!

Because you deserved it.

You'd earned it.

Slowly, with utmost care, Sam scooped you up in his arms. Rowena watched as he lifted you, as he took you from her. Her hands fell limp to her side. She felt empty, as if she were lacking something. As if she were missing a part of her she couldn't live without.

She wasn't touching you anymore. Wasn't holding you. You were away, up in the arms of the hunter she'd come to call a friend. It felt unnatural. Wrong.

No!

She shook the thought off, chased it away.

It was right. You needed help, and she couldn't carry you on her own.

She couldn't help you on her own.

The realization sent a pang of pain through her, sharp like a razor and hot as lightning. She couldn't help you. After everything you'd done for her — everything you'd sacrificed for her — she couldn't do anything for you.

You deserved better. So much better than a weak, pathetic girlfriend.

She watched Sam hold you, new, fresh tears brimming up in her eyes. One spilled down her cheek, cool against her skin.

"I'm not gonna hurt her," Sam said, noticing her distress.

But I did, she thought. I hurt her. She wouldn't be here, if not for me.

"We'll take care of her," Dean added. He offered a hand. "Come on."

Rowena stared at it. Stared at the thick, calloused fingers. At the skin that was equal parts soft and rough. An offering of friendship, of kindness.

A moment, two, three passed before she reached for it. His grip was strong, steady, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Trusted him not to let her fall. She was shaky on her feet, knees weak, wobbly. One wrong step and she would stumble.

Fuck it!

She slid her shoes off and kicked them to the side. She would have thrown them away anyway, along with the clothes she was wearing. Dirty and bloody, they were a reminder of tonight.

She didn't want that.

She didn't want to remember.

The floor was cold underneath her bare feet. Dirt and grime clung to her skin as she walked. Blood, caked, slick, stuck to her, painted her footsteps a rust red.

She didn't care.

She didn't care about anything other than your wellbeing.

Her eyes were glued to your limp form in Sam's arms. She watched as you shook and bounced slightly as he walked, watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, the soft vibration of your shirt as your heart pounded against it. You were safe and alive. And soon you would be home, warm in your bed and far, far away from the horror of tonight.

And after…

After, Rowena would take care of things. Take care of you. Just as you'd held her, soothed her, loved her through her trauma, she would be there for yours.

After all, it was her fault.

She owed it to you to make it right.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @melisandre02 @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #my fics #fanfiction #spn family