#there's something about watching a bond that profound between two lonely people

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

So I realized that 3 am me is not coherent and tends to ramble on topics that are obvious so I'm just condensing my touch and relationships post into this shorter one.

Basically, the whole thing stems from Dazai using the bare minimum of contact with others - he keeps his space and his nullifying tends to occur either by touching the ability (indirect) or by touching the user with only a single finger (minimal). Moreover, he accepts very little contact from others. So, when he initiates or receives physical contact, it's significant and can be taken to mean that he, with all his sort of control freak tendencies when it comes to people around him, is actually okay with that situation, if not outright encouraging of it.

Part 1: The Buraiha Trio (Friends!)

Ango:

Dazai initiates - hugging him (with Oda) to make his clothes smelly so he'll join their group lol, ends up in his personal space at Bar Lupin

Ango almost never receives or reciprocates

Their dynamic is actually interesting to me because it was Dazai who initiated it, simply because he found Ango's recording of info on all the mafia members who died in DHC fascinating. He was the one to invite him to Bar Lupin along with Oda. That's pretty unusual for Dazai, who hates getting too close and has accepted the inevitability of losing people. At the same time, there's Ango, who is always reluctant or somewhat uncomfortable - he never initiates or receives contact with either of them, in which the reason why is obvious - he's a triple agent. He can't afford to be honest with the other two... and by the time everything is out in the open, it's too late. There is no contact between Dazai and Ango after his betrayal, except for very minimally, when Dazai pulls Ango's own gun on him - Dazai appears to be uninterested in restoring their friendship (even if I don't think he really hates him anymore).

Odasaku:

Oda initiates - literally picking up 16 yo Dazai and force-taking care of him (I am begging you to read Day I Picked Up Dazai pleasepleaseplease), reaching out to stop Dazai from confronting the Mimic sniper

Dazai does not receive this well - basically throws a tantrum for the former and walks away from Oda into a potentially lethal situation in the latter

Dazai initiates - again with getting in Oda's personal space, helping him up, reaching out to stop Oda from confronting all of Mimic after the orphans are killed

Oda for the most part just... passively doesn't react - at least until the latter where he too, walks away into a lethal situation in a direct parallel of the earlier scene of him reaching out to Dazai and failing

It really doesn't get more obvious than this - the anime draws direct attention to the "grab and miss" scenes between the two of them. They keep missing each other because they're both reluctant to change the comfortable status quo and because they each have their own baggage that makes it difficult to allow themselves to be reached out to. Dazai is evasive and while he has respect for Oda and will openly say that to others, he rebuffs any attempts to allow the man to know him more deeply. Oda, on the other hand, is extremely passive and while he wants to help Dazai, he's caught up in Dazai being his superior and intelligent beyond his years - which leads him to hold back at many points when he actually wants to say something out of a mix of respecting his boundaries and "it's not my place to say anything". Both are reluctant to actually use the word "friend" and only do so at the very end, when Dazai calls him friend to Mori, and Odasaku tells Dazai that he considers him his friend as he dies.

The anime has this beautiful moment where both Dazai and Odasaku are in direct contact with each other right as Odasaku delivers his last words. Dazai tries desperately to support a dying man, spurred by his emotions to try and save his friend, even if he knows the action is futile, logically - Odasaku has no choice but to see the depth of Dazai's care for him, despite differences in rank. Odasaku holds Dazai's head and forces him into eye contact - he cannot be avoidant anymore. This moment is when Odasaku says aloud that he found a real friend in Dazai and that he was a real friend to him, and where Dazai realizes that Odasaku knew and understood him better than even he had thought.

Odasaku is special, as Dazai doesn't have a moment like this with anyone else where he allows himself to be so vulnerable - through words or through touch, as I'll expand on in Part 2 - mentees and Part 3 - partners.

Aaaaaand this is still really long. Goddammit.

Part 2 (Mentees) here:

I Like to Write BSD Things — Part 2 (Mentees) of my notes on touch in bsd! If... (tumblr.com)

Part 3 (Partners) here:

I Like to Write Things — Ok finally, finally, here is part 3 of my touch... (tumblr.com)

#bsd #bsd meta #does this count as a meta? #this is more word splatter tbh #dazai #osamu dazai #ango sakaguchi #oda sakunosuke #ango #odasaku #oda #i can't help myself from rambling about dazai and oda #i am very not normal about them #there's something about watching a bond that profound between two lonely people #especially as someone who grew up lonely #it just gets me man #also i actually love ango there will be no slandering the sad little government man here

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Hi Marina! Today is my birthday and you just gave me an amazing gift! Your post about how long Elvis lives in your stories popped up and this gem about Gigi and Daddy jumped out at me:

“There’s a sensitive young man named Austin who comes knocking on Graceland’s door to see the home of the man he is about to portray and ask his younger widow about him. Is it possible for two people to love a man together who’s been gone for little while now? They don’t know, but they manage it all the same, and somehow, it’s a little less lonely together…”

I am so disgustingly obsessed with this?! I can imagine that after all those years Gigi still loves her Daddy so much. She still talks about him like he’s there and she lives her life knowing that he’s watching over her and their babies. It provides enough peace but when Austin shows up, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. He’s so dedicated to learning about Elvis and preserving his legacy in the best way possible, and Gigi is so willing to help him do that in any way she can. She loved that man so much and to know that someone loves him too is almost too much for her to bare. They bond so closely over Elvis, and Austin grows so close to her and sees something in her. It not sexual at all but it’s a different type of love that is so profound.

(I am so sorry that I got carried away, but I love this so much!)

OH MY GOSH! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART! 🎂💋🌸

All that love has to go somewhere, ya know? And I’m just picturing her and Austin and Lisa able to gush about him together uninhibited because there’s so much trust and love and mutual understanding between them that nothings off the cards and all nuances are understood, no caveats needed, just loving the exceptional man that Elvis was! 🤧

…would you hate me if there was an eventual relationship between Austin and Gigi? Would you? I don’t see Gigi having single socially acceptable relationship in her life yet each one is from the heart in the purest sense and utterly devoted. Gigi is attracted to love and to quote Van Morrison:

“Love loves to love love”

Happy birthday again and thank you for being such a sweet friend to me, so glad Elvis brought you into my life! Xoxo

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPH #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #Gigi asks #elvis imagine #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction

[saiqherrr]

.stay mine (c.)

.content warning jealousy fuck, smut, nsfw, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, edging, use of the word slut, possessiveness

.pairing choso x fem!reader

.synopsis you're a shaman that works alongside geto, mahito and choso, doing a lot of dirty work for them. you get a little handsy on the job and choso has to punish you for it.

.a/n this is for a friend LOL. late birthday gift for her. this plot was so fun to work with. LMAO THIS IS SO LATE LIKE-  IT REALLY SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN ME THIS LONG. i also did not proof read so any errors will be fixed later on ok bye lollolololo

.WC 4.1K

“C’MON, Y/N, LET’S PLAY FOR A LITTLE BIT LONGER.”

you rolled your finger around inside your itchy ear with blase eyes, annoyed with mahito’s childish pleading. fighting with him was fun and all, but he never knew when to take a break. “i already said no, mahito. i’ve been gone too long. my mission was simple and didn’t take long. they’re expecting me to be back.”

getou plunked down in an arm chair, a presumptuous grin on his face. no matter what was going on, he seemed to be entertained by the shenanigans around him. he was almost always relaxed, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him irate or upset that often. however, he carried a bothersome, condescending attitude. he didn’t bother you much, but when he spoke you wanted to deck him in the back of the neck sometimes.

“get back to work.”

you snapped your head at the recognizable, profound voice that came from the entryway of the hideout. you smirk once you saw choso’s face. “someone’s eager for me to leave.” thinking that you had let your guard down, mahito was preparing to land a kick to your head, yet your reflexes and fringe vision permit you to snatch him by the lower leg and pummel his body into the ground. “i said enough mahito.”

he madly giggles with a crazed look in his eyes. you shake your head and bring your attention away from him. choso approached you, his steps echoed throughout the big space.

“not eager, but you’re gonna screw shit up if you don’t get back there soon,” he warns you. he was right and you sighed while smiling, caressing his face and rubbing a finger under his drained eyes. he pushed your hands away gently. he didn’t favor being handsy like this in front of the others. “go.” with a huff, you fix your uniform a bit, flattening down your skirt, before walking out the entryway and making your way to jujutsu tech.

carrying on with this twofold life could get somewhat confounding at times. you were unable to translate who you truly were, however it didn't make any difference to you much. you simply needed to be any place choso was, or doing something for him. in the wake of saving your life in an oddity mishap involving your power and showing you the true worth of your cursed energy, he took you under his wing. he acquainted you to his little “group” that consisted of three other people; mahito, jogo, getou and hanami. you didn’t favor anyone besides choso, involuntarily attached to him and how he treated you. sentiments were reciprocated, being that he had met you subsequent to losing his brothers and you were the lone individual with a human heart that minded or could even feel genuine compassion by any means. everyone in this circle had goals, but you just wanted to be around choso.

sharing a bond together eventually lead to other relations. sexual relations. kissing him was like a drug. touching him was that of a blessing. being touched by him was a gift from god himself. growing up an orphan in and out of shelters your entire life, you had never felt true love, true affection, but you were sure this is what it was like with choso. as close as the two of you were, he kept his distance sometimes. conceivably in light of the fact that he didn’t want to lose you and find himself hurt again. he didn’t claim you as his or exclusively claimed you as his partner. he simply acknowledged you as “the thing he gets to fuck now and then.” you didn’t know if those words were supposed to hurt or not.

arriving back at jujutsu tech, you noticed it was fairly empty. the students must’ve been sent back to their dorms already. was there really a point in coming back here? you gave your report to masamichi and he thanked you graciously for handling the job. you were given the go to leave, but you were stopped in the hallway by a familiar face - one of your mentors. gojo satoru. he was the man you had to watch out for if you ever had to fight him at some point. he was the strongest shaman in the world and he could end your life in two seconds if he wanted to.

he was nine years older than you, looking good for his age of 28. he had a priggish smile on his face and he leaned against a wall, looking at you, even though his eyes were covered by a black blindfold. “hi, gojo,” you hesitantly greeted him.

“y/n,” he sung your name out as he sat up from the wall, inching closer to you with each steady step he took. “glad you came back safe from your mission.” he got uncomfortably close to you and you took two, small steps back.

“yeah...” you say softly. “did you need me for something?”

gojo chuckled before he took his blindfold off, revealing his magnificent, blue irises. you broke eye contact, suddenly feeling shy. “i do need something from you, but...you’re young. i don’t know if you’d shy away from the idea or not.” his voice was nearing a whisper, his tone was teasing.

you were frozen in place, not sure how to respond to his lewd words. could this get you any more information than you already had? no, this could possibly form a bond between the two of you. a faux trust. he’d never suspect you if you got close enough to him.

you’re entire demeanor changed, feigning a seductive smile while bringing your hand to his cheek. “i’m young, but i’m legal, gojo,” you say as your eyes land on his lips that were coated with lip balm, making them appear glossy. “and experienced,” you add.

you don’t know what you were expecting but you felt your heart dive to the lower part of your stomach when gojo had set his cherry-flavored lips on yours. you didn’t kiss back, eyes wide open, too in shock to give him a proper reaction. the only one who ever kissed you was choso. choso. but you couldn’t fully see the harm in it...

you couldn’t see any harm in getting into gojo’s car, stepping into his home, stripping naked in front of him, having him impale your hole with his long cock, having him kiss your lips with hunger, having him leave hickeys along your neck, collarbone and breasts... he even promised to keep you around. you didn’t see the harm in it at all. he must’ve had his eye on you for some time - he fucked you like a feral animal, but he whimpered like a bitch like he had been dying to plunge his dick inside of your wet cunt for months.

after a short cat-nap, you woke up besides gojo. he snored lightly, no blankets over his half- bare body and he had his back to you. you decided it was a good time to leave, getting off the king-sized bed and picking up your garments that were sprawled on the floor. you freshened up in his bathroom, got dressed and left his house without waking him.

you took a taxi to get to the area in which the hideout was in, careful not to let anyone get to close. you walked along the trail until you approached the broken door of the soiled house, wondering when they’ll be switching locations. it was late, but getou, mahito and choso were up playing a board game in the assumed living room.

getou’s slanted eyes rolled up to look at you. “you’re back later than usual.”

“yeah...” choso mumbles. his back was turned to you as he was analyzing the game they were playing, ensuring that his next move was a smart one.

mahito chuckles when he sees you. “surprised you were gone for so long, y/n. you hate being departed from your choso-kun,” he teases. you feigned exacerbation and chuckled. “where were you?”

“with gojo,” you answered him nonchalantly.

“oh?” getou’s head rose to fully look at you. 

choso’s neck turned to take a gander at you. his stresses over the game had immediately disseminated and he was more worried with regards to why you looked so unkempt and had hickeys scattered around your neck. “did you fuck him?”

“yeah.” you dropped your belongings on a chipped, wooden table. you yawned while taking off the tight, uniform jacket, pulling it off of your arms with your as clothes. “thought it’d be good to keep him wrapped around my finger so that he trusts me mor-”

those strong, pragmatic reflexes from earlier today had bombed you just now, for you were cut off by your own gasp when choso had pulled you by the collar of your white dress shirt. his knuckles became white and his dark strands of hair that curtained his face scarcely concealed the compromising glare that his cold  eyes were giving you.

betrayal, all choso could feel was betrayal. sure, you weren’t his partner and he couldn’t bring himself to claim you as his, but he didn’t expect you to go out and fuck someone other than him. it was a selfish assumption, but choso was too caught up in the moment to give a damn about being fair right now.

“so you gave your body away to some fucking stranger?!” choso fervently reprimanded you, fixing the grasp on your shirt. mahito watched with a goofy smile on his face while getou put a hand to his temple, cocking his head to the side as if he was trying to predict what would happen next.

“i-i-i...ch-choso...he’s n-not a stranger... i thought-” you stammered on your words, frightened by the way he manhandled you. choso never wanted to hurt you before. he brought his free hand, raising it up in the air before the back of his lanky hand hit against your cheek, causing you to yelp as your eyes began to burn with fresh tears.

he scoffs when he notices you’re on the verge of crying. he lets go of your shirt and grabs a handful of your hair before yanking your head as he walked out of the living room, going up the squeaky, unstable steps of the house.  it felt like a thousand needles had hit your scalp as he dragged you by your hair up into the empty bedroom. the room, for the most part, was empty excluding a decent mattress that you had been sleeping on for the past few nights. he threw you onto the mattress after slamming the door shut.

“since when did you become a slut?” he snaps at you. you swallowed at his words as you sat up on the mattress. after locking the door he comes to the bed to lean over you, push you down, and snatch your wrists. one was pinned above your head while the other was pinned beside it. he had your body caged and all you could do was ball your hands up into fists and look away to avoid his menacing gaze. “answer me.”

“choso, did i hurt you?” you gave answered his question with a question. he narrowed his eyes as he studied your appearance. your face was covered in desperation, obviously flushed from getting pinned down this way. although you looked away, your guilt-ridden eyes came back to him, holding innocence. your nipples were showing through your dress shirt and and the hickeys on your skin just made you look ten times more obscene than you already did.

“you disgust me...” he sneered, nostrils flaring with anger. both of you were terrible at answering questions. he gripped your wrists tighter, he might as well have ripped your skin. “your body is diseased. are you fucking proud of yourself?”

your breath hitched, the insults hurt more than the slap he gave you moments ago. you felt extremely humiliated by the fact that this slander was slipping out from his lips with no problem. “i didn’t feel like i belonged to you...” your voice was laced with shame and inferiority.

“but you do.” his words had your mind spinning a mile a minute, confused because his actions didn’t align with this statement. they also had you spinning for another reason: you were suddenly in heat, legs squirming once you felt yourself drooling with juices. everything about this was embarrassing, you couldn’t help the fact that being degraded like this was so fucking hot. you even frowned when one of his hands let go of one of your wrists. he looks down to see your legs moving and lifts up your skirt to find you dampening your cotton panties. “you’re getting off to this, aren’t you?” you didn’t answer him, closing your eyes shut as you tried to hump yourself instead. he shifted his knee in between your legs and it just barely brushed against your warmth.

“choso, please...i want you. i want to show you i’m sorry,” you whined, still squirming in his grasp. you grinded yourself against his knee, panting heavily with desperation. “i’m so sorry...”

choso was tired of your bitching, growing more irritated by the second, yet yearning for you all at the same time. he wanted to teach you a lesson. he needed to. how dare you assume you could fuck anyone else besides him just because he didn’t claim you? he hoped that you’d know just by a mutual feeling, but maybe he expected too much from you. you were still dense, young and highly immature. he found you to be somewhat of an airhead sometimes. for fuck’s sake, you couldn’t even process that what choso was feeling was simply envy and betrayal right now.

he pulled down his pants, full taking them off before rubbing himself through his boxers, groaning at how it stood against his thigh, pulsating for her. he hated that he was aroused by her in this state. he truly wanted to just hate you, he really did. but he couldn’t. he needed you just as much as you needed him.

your hand reached out to touch his face but he slapped it away harshly. “choso, say something, please,” you whined once more, fully ticking him off at this point. he took off his underwear swiftly before grabbing you by your hair again. 

he stood on his knees, guiding your head to face his stiff, cock. he didn’t want to hear you right now. the only thing he wanted to hear was you slobbering his dick with your wet mouth. he wanted to hear you gagging and choking on his throbbing dick. he poked your lips with his flushed tip that was considerably a dark hue than the remainder of his length. you parted your lips to give him access into your mouth. your cheeks went hollow as you began to suck him off, fisting whatever you couldn't reach with your small hands. you didn’t expect much from this until his tip kissed the back of your throat, daring to go any farther.

for the first time, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take every inch of his cock inside your wet, warm mouth. he murmured with fulfillment as he watched your throat swell, mouth completely loaded down with his veiny cock. nothing else could be heard in the room other than the vulgar regurgitating and gargling that came from your mouth. his balls slapped against your chin rhythmically as he began to slowly buck his hips. spit trickled down to your chin, tears littered in the corner of your eyes - he was ruthless with the way he face fucked you, not seeing you as the person he cared so deeply for. you were simply just a cocksleeve to him right now. your jaw ignited with torment as it began to ache, your throat inflamed, air consistently being dissuaded. meanwhile, choso shamelessly grunted and groaned, feeling anything but discomfort. your mouth took his cock so well each time it slid down. he put a hand on your neck just to feel himself encroach the walls of your throat with each thrust.

a violent and desperate scratch on his thigh was all it took for him to stop. he pulled away from your mouth and you gasped as you fell back onto the mattress, trying to receive as much air as you possibly could. you went into a hacking fit, holding your sore throat with half-lidded eyes.

he watched you recover, rolling his eyes at how pathetic you look. “i bet if gojo asked you to take i down like that you would, right?” his words sounded like white noise, your brain excessively fluffed out to fathom anything he said to you.

“keep talking to me like that...” you responded to him in a raspy voice, standing up on your knees, supporting the scruff of his neck as you inclined in to suck on spots you knew by heart.

he looked down at you like you had lost your fucking mind. he might’ve completely broke you - or maybe you had enjoyed this all along and didn’t know until now. “bet you hiked up your skirt in front of the bastard on purpose, yeah? desperate for some fucking attention, selling yourself out like the slut you are, hm?”

he pulled your skirt off of your legs while your lips were still latched onto his pale flesh, giving it splotches of color with every love mark you left on him. your thigh highs that concealed your legs remained on for choso’s own pleasure. you took one hand and unfastened your dress shirt, uncovering your exposed bosoms under it and choso helped to pull it off of your arms. his hand then reached to the space between your thighs, pinching your skin in numerous places before rubbing two fingers against wet core. your cunt was so swollen that he could see the outline of your lips pressing against the cotton of your underwear. 

he grabbed the back of your neck and gently pressed the sides of it with his fingers, pulling you off of his skin. his lustful eyes gazed into yours. “you’re mine and you’re gonna stay mine. you belong to me...say it with me.” his two fingers have now pushed aside your panties, slowly rubbing your puffy clit.

“you belong to me.”

“i belong to you.”

and he was going to make sure you didn’t forget it.

he dipped his fingers right into your core at the sound of your voice, causing you to go weak in the knees, holding onto his chest for momentum. you fell like a feather when he pushed you down onto the mattress, head rolling as you felt his fingers massaging your walls. you tucked your bottom lip in between your teeth and your top lip, just barely biting the flesh, closing your eyes. choso’s fingers were coated in your juices as they plunged into your hole repeatedly. he moved them in a scissoring motion, procuring a few whimpers from you. you squirmed as his fingers stretched your opening and he held you down by pushing down on your thigh. his fingers pecked your g-spot before he was deliberately ramming into it, bringing you closer to your release.

“i’m gonna’...i’m gonna cum!” you cried, setting yourself up for overpowering delight you were going to feel, just to be left on the edge of your climax when choso pulled out your fingers. you mindlessly reached for his wrist, trying to pull him back to your cunt but he pulled away aggressively with a smirk on his face. your cunt clenched around nothing, desperately yearning for a release.

his fingers hastily flicked your clit, sending waves of euphoria throughout your body, your orgasm just two or three flicks away and once he sees your straining face, he stops again.

“fuck choso! fucking quit it!” you were more frustrated than aroused, on the verge of losing your fucking mind.

“sluts don’t get to-”

he couldn’t finish his sentence because you had suddenly straddled him, your legs on either side of one of his legs as you gripped onto his shoulders. a chill ran down his spine once he felt your bloated, drooling cunt on his bare skin. you frantically humped his thigh, not giving a shit about how pathetic you looked.

choso watched you throw your head back as you drove yourself to your climax. you needed it so bad. you’d probably kill for this fucking orgasm. choso felt your thighs vibrating viciously against his leg as you drew nearer to your delivery, the speed of your hips wavering without wanting to. he chose to be permissive and snatched your hips, grating your hot cunt against his skin. 

“if you’re gonna cum, then cum already...” he aggressively encouraged her through a hushed voice, panting as her body brushed against his aching cock.

“i’m cumming, i’m-” you screwed your eyes shut once you felt every cell of your body completely evaporate for one quick second before coming back all at once. your toes curled, your grip on his shoulders got tighter and your stomach convulsed uncontrollably. you felt embarrassed by the fact that he could make you so desperate, so needy, yearning for pleasure.

“greedy fucking bitch...” he growled. the whines that whimsically got away from your lips had moved toward a boisterous, broken moan that you both were certain mahito and getou heard from ground floor. choso’s leg was now a sticky mess, your fluids smeared all over his leg as you continued to ride out your orgasm. “...cumming before i could even fuck you.”

he let you relax for a bit, your head laying on his shoulder as you panted heavily, pussy still clenching around a cock that wasn’t there, still being greedy as ever. he lifted your hips, situating his cock below your entrance before slowly sliding you down his length. your breath hitched, voice abruptly non-existent as you attempted to groan, however nothing came out.

his hips moved upwards with very little strength, for he depended on you to ride him. his hot breath fanned over your sweaty skin as he breathed heavily. he exploited the couple of inches you had over him and gotten one of your firm areolas in the middle of his teeth, nibbling on it. he hungrily began to suck on your breasts, switching between the two when he got tired of one. your body shuddered every time his warm mouth would switch to the other breasts, leaving the other cold. his lips latched onto the skin around your nipple and began to suck harshly, leaving purple-ish red marks on your derma. he made sure to leave his mark on you, ensuring that the next time gojo stripped you of your clothes, he’ll see reminders of who you really belong to.

you rolled your hips to his liking, his cock feverishly invading your insides, feeling him in your lower stomach. you hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm, yet you somehow found some the strength to began bouncing yourself on his dick. each time you came down on his cock, it pushed a ribald moan from your throat.

choso didn’t rely on you anymore and he began to buck his hips upwards with a quick pace, almost animalistically. “i’m gonna cum in this pussy...” he whispered while your waist was seized by his calloused hands. “you wanna feel all my fucking cum, right?”

you attempted to give him response, but your voice, again, failed you and all you could do was moan and nod your head. choso wasn’t accepting that.

“use your words.”

“i’m...i...i want you, i wanna feel a-all your fucking cum,” you blabbered before the rest of your words came out incoherent.

you both were coated with sweat, bodies glistening under the very little moonlight that had poured through the dirty windows of the room. you felt another layer rise on your skin as choso continued to impale your pussy with his cock.

“gonna keep all of it in, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, tangling your fingers in his raven locks of hair as you were reaching another orgasm. “’m gonna cum...” you whimpered, eyes closed, head thrown back.

“cum with me,” he whispered before he delivered his last few thrusts to you, bringing the both of you to a simultaneous release. strings of his cum spurted inside of your cunt, filling you up to the brim. he lays your limp body down and thrusts himself inside of you a few more times to ensure that every last drop stayed in. you muscles clenched, desperately trying to take it all, but some inevitably slid down your sore hole.

choso had come to the realization that it was impossible to be mad at you for long, after all, you were artless. none of that mattered anymore, you were under his control now and there wasn’t anyone who could change that, not even gojo. the cum that clogged your cunt was a reminder that you were his and now you had no reason to believe different.

#choso x you #choso imagine #choso jujutsu kaisen #choso jjk #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso smut #jjk smut #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk x reader

[spinchip]

Old Dog

wordcount: 700 Summary: Pixal and Delete talk about Zane

Once the concert is over, Pixal sits on the edge of the stage and takes a moment to breathe. Going undercover as Deletes backup dancers was more strenuous than she’d imagined- or perhaps it was only her. Zane seemed to be doing fine. He’d taken off his silly looking mascot head and Left it with Pixal on the stage before making his way over to a group of stagehands- all nindroids- and awkwardly fumbling his way into a conversation with them. Despite how she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could see the way they all seemed unsure and antsy- even Zane, who had started the interaction to begin with.

Pixal puts her own Mascot head aside, intending on going over and saving him, when pink slippers appear next to her. Delete smiles down at her when Pixal looks over, her skimpy outfit covered up with a long pale pink silk robe, her platforms exchanged for fuzzy house shoes, “May I?” She asks politely, gesturing to the lip of the stage next to her.

“By all means.” Pixal responds, equally polite as Delete settles next to her.

Quietly, they watch the nindroids across the room. Pixal grimaces as Zane says something, the other two in the conversation sharing a confused look before shuffling their feet, unsure. It’s like watching a train-wreck. Once again, Pixal is about to excuse herself and rescue him from the situation, but Delete opens her mouth first.

“It’s a little sad, isn’t it?” She says softly, the airy lilt of her voice pitched low. Pixal bristles, turning to look at her sharply- but there’s no malice in the slump of Deletes shoulders, the words between them hung with genuine sadness instead of disdain or superiority. She draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on the silk draped around her knees, face a myriad of pity and profound heartache.

Pixal looks away because it seems like the proper thing to do, to allow the other woman her sadness in private, “What do you mean?” She asks, looking at Zane try and try to bond with the other robots.

It’s dim in the venue, a bit dark and dreary, and people bustle around cleaning up trash and performance equipment around them. The stagehands talking to Zane fiddle with a bow of extension cords. Delete doesn't respond right away, humming gently in thought, “Have you ever heard of a dog who was raised with cats?” She starts, “It learned to talk like a cat, and walk like a cat- all it’s life. Then one day, for the first time, it goes to the dog park. Suddenly it's surrounded by other dogs- But no matter how hard he tries, despite the fact that they’re the same, he doesn’t speak the same language. To be so close to community but unable to connect, to crave familiarity and support and to fall short…”

Pixal swallows past the lump in her throat, staring at the silk edge of Deletes robe she can see out of the corner of her eye.

“Pixal, will you do me a favor?”

“What is it?” Pixal asks, turning to look at her and refusing to watch Zane struggle.

Delete is staring right at him, “When this is over, don’t let him lose this. It’s insignificant to you and I, we were born into it- but it's new and novel and beautiful to him. He needs it.” She shakes her head to shift her bangs out of the way, looking over at Pixal with eyes so yellow they seem to burn, “Imagine that dog going home to those cats. They speak the same language, but on the most fundamental of levels, they aren’t the same. They hear what he’s saying but they don’t understand.”

Pixal flexes her fingers in the material of her pants, balling her fists as she considers Zane from a new angle. Delete looks terribly sad.

“Can you fathom how lonely that would be?”

#ninjago oc delete #pixal borg #zane julien #ninjago #spinchip fic

[captnjacksparrow]

I wish people would stop caring about the canon pairings and marriages in Naruto/Boruto because they should have absolutely no relevance for SNS shippers in terms of validating said ship. Those who say we are delusional because “Well, Naruto married Hinata so she is THE one he loves!” (I'll focus more on Naruto's marriage here... Is Sasuke's even a marriage?) simply don’t get that it just doesn't really matter who Naruto and Sasuke married because that in no way diminishes their feelings for each other. The main plot of the series revolves around the bond between Naruto and Sasuke. It is their story. They are each other's most important people and this was established back in Land of Waves arc even before the dramatic events that take place on the bridge - the whole point of that very first arc was making this a fact right from the beginning, because the story has always been and was always supposed to be about the two of them and the profound love and understanding that grows between them ever since they exchanged glances, smiles and pouts as lonely little broken kids. No reason to list all proof of their feelings and bond here, it has been done extensively, and if somebody watched the show/read the manga and missed it, they are missing half a brain. That these boys love each other more than anyone else is absolutely obvious.

So what about the canon pairings? Kishimoto stated time and time again that his focus was never romance, and that is not because he can't write romance as we know it (he clearly did), but it’s a matter of concept: what HE considers romance is the attraction that unites people with the purpose of marriage (confessing your romantic love for japanese people is the same as saying you want to be in a relationship, because feelings shouldn’t be voiced without an intention), and that, to him, is NOT the greatest expression of love, nor does it represent the most special bond two people can share.

It is understandable that westerners put so much weight into marriage because we consider it the epitome of love. Well, the truth is marriage in Japanese culture is mainly the only socially admissible means to have children and has very little to do with romantic love. In fact, in Japanese literature, it is much more common for unmarried couples to love each other than married ones. Obviously, there is no absolute truth when it comes to feelings and human relationships, what I'm doing here is generalising social norms and expectations (not exposing my opinion on them - that would turn this rant into something else entirely). A large number of Japanese marriages are loveless (and arranged, but no point getting into that either) and what motivates choosing a spouse is their ability to fulfill familial duties, meaning: is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? Is the man willing and capable of putting his occupation above everything else, working extremely hard and for long hours, with total dedication and diligence for his job, to the point of not even seeing his family most of the time, as an honorable man should do as a provider? That's what makes a GOOD married couple: two people following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family (again, please, this is not MY opinion!). What a Japanese man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children.

Do these descriptions ring any bells?

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true. Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it, and trying to discredit the obvious unmatched connection and feelings between two characters because they never got married to each other or married someone else is ludicrous. Yeah, a married couple can love each other deeply and above anyone else, but that is just not what marriage is ABOUT in Japanese culture and definitely not what Kishimoto wanted us to believe was the case here after dedicating 699 chapters to a story about the special bond between two boys that didn’t culminate in marriage. 

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Are more bells being rung?! 

Oh, some bonus info: We also tend to associate sex with romantic love. Well, Japanese married couples with children rarely have sex, if at all. After a woman becomes a mother, she is no longer considered sexually desirable and becomes a mother figure to her husband as well (what happened to Hinata’s big "attributes" in Boruto? Huh). This is especially true when couples sleep in separate rooms and the mother shares a bed with her children. (Hinata co-sleeps with Himawari and we know Naruto sleeps in a separate room. Just saying.)

What's your say?

Is Sasuke's even a marriage?

Geezz!!!! LoLLLLL!!!! This sentence just made me cackle so hard for a good 5 minutes, Anon!!!!!

Hmmm.... So let's get back to your ask.

Well, I don't know how to react to this ask, Anon. Because, I don't know whether you are from Japan or you have a very close Japanese friend who might've told you all these cultural thing about marriage and relationships.

So, what I am going to do is to analyze from the facts you have provided , combine with my own cultural relevance and provide my answer. If there is any Japanese readers who are reading this, you can confirm or dispel this by sending me an ask. But again, I don't want exceptional case like, 'No, my family is different'. I want to know about the general lifestyle of a common citizen and their married life.

Having said that, this ask made me just yell at myself, 'Goshh!!!! Seriously???'

Because whatever you said, It fucking exist in my country too and is still followed by almost 70% of people in my country and I absolutely detest it. That is,

Most of the marriages here are loveless nd arranged - Check

Is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? - Check

People following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family - Check Check

What a man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). - Check Check

Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children. - Awww!!! A million Check.

That's why I was envious of Western people in this aspect, because they have a freedom to choose their own partner without any time constraints and when they do, their marriage can be said to be 'The Epitome of Love'.

My parents marriage is also an arranged one. And whenever they have disagreement and that leads to verbal war, they let out this words, 'I'm here with you because of my 2 daughters otherwise I would've left you long back'. So... Yeah. Here, most of the marriages are child-centered. Again, it's not just my opinion. Majority of the arranged marriage based family revolve around their child.

And I was born, a year after my parents' marriage, and If I hadn't been born, then people will question my parent's fertility factor and start to discriminate them. So, I can boldly claim that, I was not born out of Love or something. I was born because of social obligations.

But it doesn't mean, my parents don't love each other now. How should I say???? It's like a Stockholm Syndrome??!!!! Like when you stay with a person for a long time, you will eventually start to develop some feelings over the course of the time. It took them 15 years to come to a complete understanding of each other. It's the same case with many couples here.

Considering all these, Sasuke never even stayed with Sakura enough to make her understand him, So I wonder what kind of couple are they????? Weird!!!!!

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true.

Awww!!!! Man, Seriously???? I made this claim long back in this post where I said, these women were used as a tool to bring out Next Generation Kids. My claim was based on Analytical Perspective.

And then one of the rabid SS stan reblogged my post and pulled out a hetero card stating, 'They are married and blah blahh...' when in reality, I never discussed about their sexuality in that post. That post was purely based on the number of pages each hetero couples shared with each other against the number of pages Sasuke & Naruto shared together.

Now, you have provided a cultural perspective for those shitty canon pairings.

On one side, I feel the need to smirk, because I am right.

But on the other side, I feel bad like, 'Is this how, this show must go on?? What are you trying to convey from this?'.

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Hmmm.... It's interesting to know this. Anon.

This is where it differs slightly in my country.

Romantic love here is,

No matter what happens, I'll stand with you, You are just not alone. I will leave my fucking clan, parents, relatives if they don't approve you and we will start a new life somewhere.

[[Here, marriages happen mostly between their clan members. If you love a person from another clan, you will be ostracized or tortured or honour killed by your very parents. It just differs from clan to clan. I was subjected to this same problem and that's why I hate my Clan and left my parents. And this is also one of the reason why I love Itachi. Because we share similar Ideals. That is, Not to be obsessed over your clan and think beyond this restriction.

Also, here in Asian Culture if someone is willing to leave their family (when they don’t approve you) and prefer you over everything.... It means.... that's some Love beyond Comprehension. Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his Family (like Sakura and Kakashi) and like to stand with Sasuke... Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his own family and go on a long mission with Sasuke]]

So does it remind you of anything?????

It's the whole SNS dynamics starting from their childhood to VoTE2. That's why I started to ship SNS, because it represents the true love we always wish for.

Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it

This is very true, Anon.

I mean, they don’t even have to take a groundbreaking route. 

They should have given everyone an open ending, just like Kishi left at chapter 699. What is the need of a marriage, if Naruto is going to adopt Kawaki??? If Orochimaru was going to create a Baby Artificially?? If Rock Lee is going to have a child out of nowhere???

But I am happy that SNS bond is the only one that wasn’t diminished in this hot mess called Burrito. So, atleast we should be happy about that.

When someone pulls the marriage card, I just block them immediately because they are not even worth having a good conversation. NH will pull out the Last movie and SS will pull out, ‘Sasuke called Sakura ‘My Wife’.... So, it’s just pointless.

So, to conclude

Considering my Analytical perspective, I already made earlier in other post and your ask which provides some insight about Japanese culture which eerily resembles the culture I belong to, It all makes sense that this whole pairings and trash is just for the sake of bringing out Next Generation series and those boys never loved those girls whole heartedly. And I agree with you on this.

#ask #sns #sasunaru #anti ss #anti nh #antisakura #antihinata #anti sakura #anti hinata

[helena-thessaloniki]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

#my asks #my thoughts #rivamika #rivamika fanfic #lena writes

[heyheydidjaknow]

Why do I not have the option to copy and paste formatting? Why is that an option I am not given? Who thought that I wouldn’t need that when I’m on my phone? Screw that guy, who I am arbitrarily calling Adam. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me.

Chapter 6 Pt 2

“There is no fucking way you got a date with her.” Raphael does not even look it up. “No way in hell.”

“And yet the flow chart worked.” He laughs from his lab, shutting off any excess equipment as to not overwork it. “It worked like a charm and she asked me to go to her place so ha.”

”You didn’t show her the chart, did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, there you go.” Leo looks back at him from his seat on the couch. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” He slides the door closed. “But I’m planning on being there at six fifty-five so that she knows I value her time.”

“Does the sun set that early?”

“Why do you even ask?” Raph turns a page in his once periodical periodical. “You know he looked it up.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Forgive me for also valuing preparedness.”

“Nobody likes a know it all.”

He grins smugly. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I,” he gestured to himself, “have a date with a gorgeous girl tonight, one where she has already invited me into her home, and you,” he gestured to Raphael, “are reading a magazine from a company that went out of business two years ago alone.”

“Donnie, don’t be a jerk.” Leonardo looked back at the television. “Raphael brings up a valid point; you tend to act like you know everything, and the actual request wasn’t for a date.”

“How else can I interpret one on one time with her?”

“Well,” he counters, “how do you interpret one on one time with us?”

He blinks. “Wait, so you’re saying she’s… how do you put it?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’s friendzonin ‘im.” Mickey looks up from his drawing. “Think she’s sending signals she doesn’t mean to.” He sets his half-shaded piece aside. “Think about it; she said she’s been all stressed out, right? She died like two weeks ago.” He shrugs. “She’s probably just lonely and needs the company.”

“That’s… actually really insightful of you.”

He grins. “What can I say? I’m a modern McPherson.”

Raph snickers at that. “Donnie is more of a McPher—how old is that movie, anyway? A hundred?

“Hey!” He shoots a glare at his brother. “Respect the classics.”

“Not to interrupt your riveting intro to film class,” Donnie interjects, losing his shit, “but I really need to know what this is before I go, and it’s already fifteen ‘till.”

“Look, maybe she’s interested, maybe she’s not.” Leonardo’s eyes are back on the screen. “Just try to tread carefully and you’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?”

“Again, Raph had a point.”

He groans, walking to the entrance and exit of their home. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Not our job.”

Leo calls after him. “Be home before six!”

He turns the corner, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I am totally and thoroughly fucked.’

--

GoodFellas.

Of all the movies in the world, that is the movie you have decided to use to explain these concepts. This is the example piece that you are going to show to the vigilante. All you know is that you had started watching the Phantom Menace and had decided against explaining the concept of racial coding and this is the only other movie that you can think of right now. You have decided to commit, and you are already regretting it, but you decide to figure it out as you go.

You set the pizza on the coffee table, throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. You do not expect Donatello to be late, so you decided to start now so that they could get started right away. You start walking to the window, stopping at the mouth of the hallway. You look yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror despite yourself. You do not exactly know why you care so much; this was not a date, and you had not advertised it as one. Still, impressions are important, and the last thing you need is for him to not listen to you because of it. That is what you are telling yourself, anyhow.

You hear knocking against the glass. You check your phone for the time. ‘Five minutes early.’ You smile softly. ‘How responsible.’ You open it up, smiling at your guest. “Welcome, Donatello.” You take a step back. “Please, make yourself at home.”

He barely makes a sound as he steps off the windowsill, looking around your apartment, fully illuminated, for the first time.

After about thirty seconds of his investigation, you clear your throat. “Donnie?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

You smile gently. “You wanna sit down? I bought pizza.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, sitting down and facing the television screen. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” You sit down next to him, tucking your feet under you as you flip on the television. “How do you feel about gangster movies?”

“Gangster movies?”

“Yeah.” You list a couple on your fingers. “Scarface, Godfather, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you make gangster movies legally?”

“That is a long answer. The short version?” You lean forward, taking a slice from the box. “The police are kind to those who cooperate, and people think their stories are fascinating.”

“So they’re documentaries?” He mimics you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. You want something to drink?” You hear the microwave beep as you stand up.

“Water?”

You nod, walking over to pull the popcorn out of the microwave and grab your drinks. “I trust the walk wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” The small talk is torture. “Getting to your window was a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t anything too bad.”

“That’s good.” You pour him a glass. “I’ll have to get something for that; maybe a planter or something, so you have a bigger ledge.”

“It’s alright.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “It’s wide enough to stand.”

“Still.” You place his cup on the counter, dumping the kernels into a large plastic bowl. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if one of you guys got hurt trying to come in through the window.” You grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator, sitting down and handing him the glass.

He smiles slightly. “You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

You grin. “I try,” you hum, starting to pull up the movie. “I think you’re pretty cool too, Hamato.”

He chuckles. “You make me sound like I’m fifty.”

“Oh, totally.” You nod in agreement. “You’re an old soul.”

He blinks. “Old soul?”

“Mature, I mean.” You shrug. “I mean, handling the stuff you do with any degree of tact, to me, displays a great maturity you don’t see in most teenagers, myself included.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You get back up for napkins and plates. “Not at all.” You hand him one of each. “It’s an admirable quality, though not one I particularly envy.”

“You think?” His hands linger for a moment longer than typical as he took them.

“Yeah. You want me to turn down the lights for the movie while I’m up?”

His face goes red. “I-I mean,” he stutters, “if you want to.”

“Then I will; shows the image better when it’s dark.” You walk to the wall, flicking off the lights and sitting down next to him, setting your slice on your plate as you turn on the movie.

Your reactions to it are different.

He does not seem what you would call disturbed, but he gets grossly invested in the story extremely quickly. He is noticeably more interested in watching you watch the movie, but he studies the plot intently, noting the more domestic plotline between the lead and his wife in particular. His reaction to the violence is strange to you; he is not aloof, so to speak, but he does not flinch much until the fighting is between Henry and Karen.

You have seen this movie what feels like a thousand times. Whenever you think it applicable, you lean over and whisper to him about the directing, the script, the plot—it is supposed to be a lesson, after all. But you realize that your attention, every so often, shifts to the bed, to your pillow with the knife underneath it. The violence of the movie makes you edgier than you are used to.

About halfway through the movie, you move closer to the boy sitting beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listen for cues for comments. You don’t notice his reaction, but you do notice how his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You do not object; you were the one who initiated, after all.

“Here’s a psychology relationship thingy you can tell your family about.” You cringe at that poor little girl standing in the hallway. “’That’s all in your head’ is classic gaslighting. I dunno if that’s really your area or not.”

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” He fiddles with the cloth of your jacket absentmindedly. “It’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around, people staying like that. I mean,” he clarifies, “I get why, but—”

You both tense up as a young man on screen is shot dead by Joe Pesci’s character.

You exhale. “Yeah, I get what you mean.” You shrug. “But folks get scared, ya know? In her case, she doesn’t want to break the family apart, and she’s really into him.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.” You look up at him. “What can I say? We fall into infatuation so fast with bad people who say what we want to hear.”

“Don’t you mean fall in love?”

You watch as Lorraine Bracco holds a gun to her husband’s face. “Nope. Love is entirely different.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at you.

“Apples and oranges.” You gesture to the television. “Love is supplementary, a beautifully imperfect connection between people.” Your voice becomes smoother, airier. “It’s a bond built on trust and respect. Infatuation is more of an addiction than anything.” You sigh as Liota meets to discuss his relationship with Sorvino. “At least I think so. That’s why love at first sight is a bunch of bullshit; you can’t have that kind of profound trust with someone you just met.” You shrug, looking back up at him. “Then again, what do I know? I’m an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old girl.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He looks back down at you. “I get what familial love is, but whenever Master Splinter talks about his wife, he has a hard time putting what he means into words.”

You hear their guilty verdict. “Totally get that. Articulation is not easy to do.”

A few minutes go by.

“May I be frank?”

“Please.”

You watch as a man drags his wife out of a Christmas party. “This movie is exactly why I don’t ever want to learn how to do the stuff you do. It changes you, all that violence; desensitizes you.” You bring your knees to your chest. “Especially Raphael. I swear, that shift was as dramatic as his, at least at this point in the flick.”

He pauses. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

You close your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m going to try my best,” you swear, “do everything in my power, to see to it that you guys don’t experience more than you have to.”

You mean it. He can tell.

You two are quiet for the rest of the movie. You explain why certain directing choices were made, connect the beginning with the end, talk about the theme, all while you two watched their fall from grace. When the movie ends, you realize how tangled up in him you are; your head on his chest, legs draped over his with his arms around your waist. You feel the icy air against you, as if his skin attracted it to you. You push the hair out of your face. “So,” you stretch, turning the light back on, “do you wanna see another movie, or do you have a curfew?”

He pauses. “I should honestly probably get home,” he sighs. “If I’m not home early they’ll start getting ideas.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod, completely understanding the reasoning. “You can take the leftover pizza home if you want; the guys’ll probably eat it before I do.”

“Mikey’ll be on cloud nine.” He picks the box off the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You stand at the window, opening it for him.

He climbs onto the windowsill, looking down at you from his perch. “I had a good time.” His face flushed. “We should do this again.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’ll pick a lighter movie next time.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.” He gives you a thumbs up.

You steal yourself, cupping one side of his face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight, Donnie.” You smile. “See ya tomorrow.”

You are a bit concerned he’s going to fall off the windowsill. “Y-Yeah,” he grinned, words slurred. “See ya later, Y/N.” He waved, climbing up and out of your window.

You smile softly, sigh. You flop back on the bed, rolling over. You have not been this at ease since you died.

‘I really like that guy.’ You close your eyes. ‘I really, honestly do.’

You drift off to sleep, dreamless for the first time in too long.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter 7

#tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage #donnie x reader #2012 donnie #donnie #donatello x reader #donatello #nyc #pizza #movie #finally got some action goin on maybe #i finished writing this shit at 4 in the fucking morning #I’m usually relatively fine with tense #but today was a struggle #4710 words #part 2

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 13: First Kiss

AWOL | @madcatm

Rating: General Word Count: 1017 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant Summary: The first time Dean kisses Cas, he runs away

Cinnamon and Sugar | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1273 Main Tags/Warnings: mutual pining Summary: Dean has feelings for Cas, but he is afraid to show them. Cas has feelings for Dean, but can't find the right words. So he decides to say it with pie.

A New Year's Kiss | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 1274 Main Tags/Warnings: holiday fic; first kiss Summary: Celebrating New Year has never been so good if Dean's being completely honest.

The First and the Fondest | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1594 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, Fake/pretend relationship, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester need to use their words Summary: "Tonight's fireworks night." Dean shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant and hoping he lands in not-shy, at the very least. "Out by the riverfront, sitting on blankets on the grass, and staring up at the night sky - the whole shebang." "So?" "People will probably expect us to kiss." Dean clears his throat, studying Cas's face for reactions. There's nothing for him there, but he doesn't stop staring. "And since we can't do that, we might -" "I -" Cas interrupts, and maybe he's blushing a little. Jesus, Dean hopes he is. "I can." Dean raises his eyebrows. "Kiss, I mean." And fuck that fucking fucker for not specifying that he can kiss Dean, because those words, strung together in a sentence and delivered in Cas's glorious fucking baritone would've automatically sent Dean to paradise. ~ OR ~ The One in which they pretend to be dating, but the kisses are real.

Wax Poetic | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 2134 Main Tags/Warnings: love spell, fluff, confessions, first kiss Summary: James and Portia are tired of watching Dean and Cas pine for each other, so James takes matters into his own hands. Or, the one where Cas and Dean can only speak to each other in rhyming couplets and Dean professes his love in a sonnet

Fireworks | @banshee1013

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2784 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Angst, Mild Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, New Year's Kiss, Separations, Flashbacks Summary: Castiel finds himself in Hong Kong on New Year's Eve - alone again, naturally. He never expected in a million years that the man who broke his heart fifteen years ago would turn up here, of all places, on this night.

Consider This: Peanuts | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 2899 Main Tags/Warnings: fake dating, wedding, biphobia Summary: Dean isn’t sure why he RSVP’d to his dad’s wedding with a plus one, but only a week before the big day, he still doesn’t have a date. So he decides to do the next best thing. He asks his best friend to go with him and pretend to be his boyfriend. Author’s Note:This is unbeta’d. I wanted to get this posted before submissions closed, so I didn’t have time for a beta. But I did manage to get my word prompt from this week and last week in here. Hope you guys like it!!

As Many Kisses As You Want | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4432 Main Tags/Warnings: near death experience; hurt/comfort; angst; hurt!Dean Summary: Dean gets really hurt in a hunt and Castiel has no idea what he's supposed to do. He really doesn't.

Hold onto me, breathe, breathe, you're not drowning | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4538 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Dean grins. “You don’t wanna try it?” Cas rolls his eyes. “These usually work on first sight, Dean, so unless you want me to fall in love with you, I suggest you put it away.” Dean licks his lips. He watches Cas’ mouth. Then he tucks the love potion into the Gross Stuff drawer and turns away.

Anything | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4578 Main Tags/Warnings: fake relationship, first kiss, fluff, alternate canon Summary: A newly human Cas has never had cake before. Dean's fixing to change that.

Swayze Always Gets A Pass | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4766 Main Tags/Warnings: first kiss, drunk dean, drunk cas, movie night Summary: After Dean and Cas get into an argument over a case, Dean tries to apologize by asking Cas to Netflix and chill. Featuring: Cas the movie critic, his drunk friend, Dean, and Dean's tired brother, Sam. Told from Cas' awkward POV.

Disappear in the Trees | @specsofwings

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4817 Main Tags/Warnings: AU, Hunter Dean, Librarian Castiel, Fairy Tale Elements, Psychological Horror, Dean and Cas Have a Profound Bond, Falling in Love Summary: In a library that once entered, can't be exited, Castiel, against his will, works as the lone librarian, doing his best to make the people who wander inside comfortable in their final moments. Forced to weave human lives into storybooks for the library to devour, he hasn't seen the outside world in decades. Enter Dean Winchester. Can the chains of the library hold Castiel with another, more profound, bond forming between he and Dean?

The Beat of Hearts and Wings | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4857 Main Tags/Warnings: Fantasy AU, Dragons, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss Summary: Dean and Castiel have spent years dreaming of the day they will be assigned their roles at the Draconium, where dragons and humans work, live, and train together to ensure the peace and prosperity of the realm. But when Dean is granted the coveted role of dragon rider and Castiel is assigned to the care of the smallest dragons, their lifelong friendship is suddenly put to the test. With the help of dragons both large and small, surely Dean and Castiel will find their way back to their former closeness-- or maybe even to something more.

Distance | @baby-in-a-trenchcoat7

Rating: General Word Count: 5105 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Idiots In Love Summary: Canon!verse Destiel. A series of Destiel drabbles inspired by scenes from the show and the lyrics to Distance by Christina Perri, highlighting two adorable idiots falling in love. Spoiler warning: Final section is taken from a scene from season 15.

Not Your Average B Slasher Movie | @deansrightfulangerissue & @unforth

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5127 Main Tags/Warnings: Referenced Homophobia, Referenced Torture, Alternate Universe Summary: A one-on-one first date at an isolated cabin with love-of-his-life Cas? Sign Dean right the fuck up. Everything is going peachy-keen, until Cas, damn him to hell, just has to go and tell Dean all about notorious local murderer Alastair...

Divine Intervention | @rogueangelshunter

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7548 Main Tags/Warnings: References to Torture, H-e-double-hockey-sticks, Pit!Dean, What Dreams May come inspiration, if everybody gets their own Heaven then I figured everybody would also get their own Hell, and Dean's Hell is a very special place, special hell, Hell is a place, Gore, mcd is Dean way back in season 3, first kiss Summary: God will never get over Dean Winchester.

It's In His Kiss | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7877 Main Tags/Warnings: Closeted Dean/Cas, Hockey AU, First Kiss, Secret Relationship, Homophobic Language, Coming Out, Bottom Cas/Top Dean Summary: “Dean,” Cas says, straightening from his position against the wall. “I’m sorry if that kiss made you uncomfortable earlier. That wasn’t my intention.” Direct and to the point, that’s Cas. It’s a trait Dean usually appreciates, he likes knowing where he stands with the man, but right now it’s making him decidedly uneasy. Cas is right of course, the kiss did make Dean uncomfortable, just not for the reasons the other hockey player thinks. As per usual, Dean covers his discomfort with bravado and sass. “Nah, I wasn’t uncomfortable,” he lies. “Besides, you call that little peck a kiss? I hate to break it to you buddy, but Edith the octogenarian kissed better than that.” Cas looks momentarily annoyed with Dean’s obvious deflection, but then his expression clears and he steps into Dean’s space before cocking his head and narrowing his eyes, “Are you criticizing my kissing abilities, Dean?”

Head Over Feet | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9439 Main Tags/Warnings: Fake dating, first kiss, past Inais/Castiel, semi-public sex, frottage Summary: Castiel's brother is getting married, and Cas's ex boyfriend is in the wedding party. Putting an ad on Craigslist for a wedding date seems like a terrible idea at the time, but one of the responses is... very intriguing... Sparks fly, boys dance, and everybody lives happily ever after.

Love is Scary | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9888 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, first kiss, love confession, season 13 canon divergent, mutual pining, post AUMichael!Dean, PTSD, angst with a happy ending. Summary: This is a little FF very fluffy with POVs. I wanted to write about Mildred meeting Cas and giving Dean advices. So... Enjoy!

Luminescent | @saltnhalo

Rating: Mature Word Count: 17222 Main Tags/Warnings: Marine Biologist Dean Winchester, Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Deep Sea Adventures, First Meetings, Strangers to Lovers, Romance Summary: Embarking on an expedition to the deepest, most unexplored parts of the ocean is all Dean has wanted to do since he was a kid. Now, his dream is finally coming to fruition, and he can feel in his bones that there is still so much to be discovered. But nothing could have prepared him for what he finds in those uncharted, impossibly deep waters…

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #first kiss #day 13

[dickspeightjrs]

You said you wanted prompts. I just need something fluffy that is Destiel and has to do with the handprint scar on Dean. Just Dean asking Cas about it and Cas explaining it’s not just a mark on his body, but his soul as well.

ao3 link

It’s one of those in-between days. They can’t find any cases worth checking out and the next big bad hasn’t reared its ugly head yet. 

Dean’s pretty sure he heard Sam still get up at the crack of dawn and go for a run. Freak. 

Dean on the other hand, is perfectly content to remain in bed for as long as possible. Though, that might be less to do with his laziness, and more to do with the cute-ass angel doing his best impression of an octopus next to him. 

Dean loves to watch Castiel sleep. It’s the knowledge that Castiel has survived another day - there’s some angels out there who love to have his head on stick. It’s the fact that Cas feels relaxed enough with Dean that he can succumb to the calmness of sleep. It’s also because seeing the frown lines of Cas’ face smoothed out, the worry gone from his complexion, Dean can pretend for just a little while that they’re normal. That the only stress in their lives is normal people things like taxes and mortgages. 

Sometimes Dean thinks back to how this thing between them started. If John Winchester could see him now, in bed with a supernatural being, he’d flip his lid. But, Dean gave up trying to please that ghost years ago (though it wasn’t soon enough in Sam and Castiel’s opinion). How could something, someone, that makes him feel light in the darkest of worlds be wrong?

Castiel shifts against Dean's side, nosing at Dean’s shoulder. It’s the shoulder that used to be home to Castiel’s handprint. Dean remembers feeling completely freaked out when he first saw it in the mirror of that abandoned gas station. The feelings of confusion - what creature could possibly be strong enough to lift a soul from hell? Little did Dean know of the adventure he was about to embark on. 

Considering how their relationship turned out, Dean kinda misses having the scar, the connection to his angel for all to see. He is, of course, grateful for the amount of times he’s been brought back and glued back together over the years. But, he can’t help but feel nostalgic for the piece of Castiel he once carried. 

“You think too loudly,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Dean rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s crankiness. Since his angel mojo had been depleting, Cas had taken to sleep the most out of all the basic human customs. 

Looking down at the mess of scruffy, dark hair on the pillow, Dean found he couldn’t complain. 

“Sorry,” Dean whispers back. “Just thinking about the scar I used to have on my shoulder. Kinda miss it, y’know?”

Cas sighs deeply and heaves himself to pillow his head on Dean’s chest. The beating of Dean’s heart soothes him and reminds him on the day he laid that scar on Dean. The anxious moments waiting for Dean’s heart to start again, for him to wake and drag himself out of that grave. 

“I understand. It was a reminder of where our journey together started.” Castiel hums. “But it wasn’t just a mark on your skin. It is permanently etched onto your soul.”

“What?” Dean pulls away to sit up and look Castiel in the eyes. The angel looked back with nothing but sincerity. 

“When I rescued your soul from hell, you weren’t in your physical form. My grace bonded with your soul, leaving a permanent mark.” Castiel explains. “Honestly, I didn’t expect your human body to be scarred too. “I suppose the bond between us must have burned through.” 

Dean didn’t know what to say. “So, that time when you said that you and me have a more profound bond, you meant it?”

Castiel sits up against the headboard to be level with Dean and puts his hand on top of Dean’s. “I meant every word of it.” He whispers firmly. 

“B-but if it was your grace that bonded with my soul, how come it came out shaped like a handprint and not, I dunno, some giant blob.”

Castiel starts playing with Dean’s fingers that are resting on the bed covers. “I’ve wondered that too, over the years,” he says. “The only theory I’ve managed to come up with is that it’s more to do with the human element of your soul and less to do with my grace.”

Dean frowns. “I don’t know what you mean, Cas.”

Cas meets Dean’s eyes again with a mix of sadness and intense love. “It’s a basic human need to want to be touched. I believe that, when I pulled you from hell, you were touch-starved. Your time there left you feeling lonely, unloved, raw.” He raises a hand to brush through Dean’s hair. “Though, I also remember thinking at the time that those feelings may have been there from before your time in hell.”

Dean leans into Cas’ touch, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He just couldn’t get used to Castiel knowing him better than he knew himself. Seeing elements of himself that he tries hard to keep hidden away. He knows he’d longed for love for years, even before hell, (in whatever form he could take it - whether from Sam, his mom, his dad) but he never realised his soul ached for it too. 

Castiel seems to sense that Dean isn’t able to say anything yet so he just leans in to place a soft kiss of love on the hunter’s lips. Dean follows along willingly. 

When they pull away, Dean rests his head against Castiel’s, “I love you, Cas.” He breathes against the angel’s lips. 

“I love you too, Dean. Always.”

*  *  *

Later, the two men are still locked in a sleepy embrace. Sam has come back from his run (Dean could hear him clattering around the bunker corridors with his big moose limbs) but he hadn’t come and interrupted Dean and Castiel’s peaceful bubble. They’ve scarred Sam more than once by now - he’s learnt his lesson to stay away from their room at all costs.

A thought suddenly occurs to Dean. “Cas?”

Castiel hums from under the duvet. “Yes, Dean?” His muffled voice flows through. 

“There was that time when Balthazar said ‘the one with the dirty trench coat, who’s in love with you’...” He trails off letting the question go unasked. It had taken days to stop that phrase repeating in Dean’s head at the time. He didn’t want to dare to hope that Castiel actually felt the same way. 

Castiel’s face appears suddenly from the soft cocoon he’d created. He squints adorably at Dean. “I wasn’t aware he’d said such a thing,” he mumbles. “However, he probably said so because, along with their abilities to see a human’s soul, any angel could see the bond between your soul and my grace. It is not a common occurrence.” 

“So, any angel I meet knows that I’m taken? That I’m all yours?” Dean asks. “That I have been from the moment you rescued me from hell?” 

“If that’s how you’d like to think of it, then yes. I’m yours, Dean.” Castiel blushes.

“Awesome.” Dean smiles, leaning over to steal a kiss from his angel. 

And he swears he could feel something deep inside him glow.

-

A/N: I hope you liked it! Sorry it’s so late. I really enjoyed writing this one though. Thank you for your prompt.

Remember to support creators. Reblog if you enjoyed!

Tags: @eccentriccas @multifandom-fanatic @thekingslover @jhoomwrites

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#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #fluff #angst #(slightly) #sad #canon #1k #established relationship #prompt fill #myfic #sarah answers #isthisanything

[a-fallensoul]

 Supernatural Ending

The ending was so fucking sad and bad that it got me in tears and angry, it's a half of my life show, I never stopped watching it in 15y and i'm never gonna forget how they helped me during bad times...

This is going to be long...

But, My Jack... That was the ending?... Seriously...? They betrayed us, they didn't give us the boys ending, they give us Chuck's ending (15.04 pay attention to Becky, they even show us parts of those endings in 15.09, No Cass, No Eileen, one or both dies), so nothing of what the boys did in 15y, the sacrifice, all the pain, suffering, hopelessness, the lost ones, nothing of that really matter because in 15.20 they (the writers) let Chuck win, they destroyed 15y of storytelling, erasing Castiel and Eileen from the life of the winchesters and killing one of them... that was just unacceptable...

I love monsters and scary stuff, thats why I started watching Supernatural but somehow the show manage to become something more than that, the narrative change, evolved, and i ended up loving and caring way too much about Dean Winchester, the guy with this huge tragic story arc, i mean I love Sam too, but, the writers made me care too much about Dean and then Castiel appears in the picture and Jack dammit, it was just PERFECT... 

They give us a simple show about a journey of two brothers on the road "saving people, hunting things, the family business" that later expanded to more than just two brothers, more than blood family, more than just hunting things...

Dean

Throughout his entire life Dean Winchester saw himself like -destructive, angry and driven by hate- like Cass told him in 15.18, and we saw it too... Since season 01 (01.06) that was a background story, Dean saying that on several occasions and thinking he doesn't deserve good things, the inner struggles, abandonment issues, hopelessness... And no matter what happened, he always saw himself like that ( he even vocalized those words on a few occasions )... other Hunters, friends/family that he truly cares about tried to talk him out of those ideas and he didn't listen. Cass confront him telling him why he's worth saving 04.01 but nothing, Amara (The Darkness) told him and try to help (15.15 they talk about this) failing, even Sam, his brother that he cares too much to even bring the apocalypse just to save him, told him throughout the entire series that he's way more than that, and nothing... no one could make him think otherwise... 

Damaged and Broken Dean, a hopeless guy playing with girls and trying to find death in what he does, he is too tired of the job, that life, everything, and this was on 02.09...

Castiel

In S04 an Angel of the lord appears in the show, you know, the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, Castiel (and the first to say to Dean what he thinks of himself in his own words 04.01), so with Cass understanding Dean in a personal deep way with just one look of him, showing him that he's worthy to be saved, that he's important, that he matters (a personal issue that both of them shares and I will talk later) created the famous "profound bond" that  they share, and that was the beginning of their relationship (in subtext, context, queerbaiting or not), and this relationship made Cass change to even defy God's orders and the other Angels... for them but mostly for Dean, Castiel the “Self-hating Angel of Thursday” - “The one off the line with a crack in his chassis” and  the only Castiel of all the other version to do so (exact words in 05.18 and 15.17).

Cass plays a crucial part in the show and in Dean's life, you can see how Cass becomes Dean's rock and vice versa ... But in 15.18 we all saw something way too beautiful and perfect but heartbreaking at the same time...

Destiel going canon

For 12y we saw Dean and Cass becoming more than just friends, their characters grow to support and find each other when they needed the most. This “profound bond” between them was what both needed... the personal issues that both have:

Dean is afraid of being left behind by his loved ones, to be alone, so he pushes people away when he gets scared, because if he shuts them out it hurts less...

Cass loves too much and he's afraid of being unvalued, unloved, that no one would want him to stay so he leaves before he's unwanted...

But Dean needs people to stay by his side no matter what and Cass, he needs to be asked to stay before he believes there's nothing left for him there...

So no matter how much they fight they always end up together and this game that they have show us a lot of hints of their relationship.

There are many declarations between them, sometimes are vocalized others are with less words and more driven by actions but neither are completely direct until...

15.18 the last episode with Cass and the most emotional one, he said to Dean “The good and the bad, you have done it's because of love... you're the most caring man on Earth, you're the most selfless, loving human being I would ever know... I cared about the whole world because of you... You changed me, Dean...” (...)  “Why does this sounds like a goodbye?” ask Dean, knowing that something is wrong, and Cass says “Because it is (...) I Love You” to which Dean answers “Don't do this, Cass” trying to stop the goodbye, not wanting for him to leave, not again, not in this moment (that's how I interpreted his words and performance by the atmosphere of the moment, the words, feelings, tears and physical pain on Dean), Cass says “Goodbye Dean” and pushes Dean to a side, making the ultimate sacrifice for the one he love... leaving a bloody handprint on Dean's shoulder (a callback from the first time they meet 04.01 and part of the speech was a answer to Dean's prayer in 15.09) and he's left both touched and stunned over Cass's confession but this soon shifts into pure sadness leaving him in the floor crying not knowing what to do, say or think... Dean doesn't answer to the love confession, he is too shocked, but at least we had one with a reaction...

There's something important to notice here, the line “Daddy's blunt instrument” in that confession was used once in 03.10 from Dean to Dean in a dream, he never spoke of that with anyone, not even Sam for obvious reasons... how Cass knew about that...? In 09.03 we hear Cass saying to Dean how he appreciates their talks and time together... So for Dean, the guy who never opens his heart to anyone, to get Cass as his confidant, is just not nothing... it means something... 

Jensen/Dean was scripted to say “I Love You” in 08.17 first and that changed to “I Need You”, they thought it wasn't a good time for Dean or the moment, and we respect it, actually i loved the “I need you” more, because it gave a lot of meaning to the next seasons dialogues between Cass and Dean, even the fights... 

Still, this is one of the most beautiful declarations of love that I've ever watched on small or big screen between two men... (or one...) but, Becky was right (15.04), we all knew...

Dean and Cass ending (2 of the 4 main character in the end of the show) left me with a massive hole in my chest, queerbaiting or not, they did share this "profound bond" since they met, the writers play with that throughout 12y and 12 season, they even made Cass a "Last minute Gay" (personally I don't think he is homosexual, He is an angel, therefore, not Human genders are attached, I think he's just Deansexual), they pushed all those feelings and history of 12 seasons to a side in the last episode, like they didn't matter, but they did! for Them and Us... And it was a beautiful but incomplete story to see, Dean and Castiel deserved a chance to be happy.. 

We saw them, and they are worthy of being seen. At the end, that's what we all want, to be seen by the ones we love and be loved in return...

Cass's Dean

Those last words from Cass, his love for him, meant so much to Dean that finally, at the end, he changed too, Cass changed the way Dean sees himself... Cass's love made Dean overcome what he thought he was, his love made him feel everything he ever wanted...

Since Cass appearance in the show, we saw Dean, a problematic, man-whore, jerk, with no meaningful relationship whatsoever that thought he didn't deserve good things and with a death wish, become something more and way past that, queerbaiting or not he overcame all that at the core of himself, because of Cass... and that's a fact.

Then in 15.19 we got glances on how broken Dean was... the pain of what he just lost... now there's no Cass next to him again, just Sam and Jack, the rest of the world is lone gone and Chuck won... This episode was so good, full of sadness but again Dean being who he is we kinda see him mourning Cass in his own way, just some hints... Dean always turns to drinking when something like this happens, when Lucifer calls Dean posing as Cass he runs to Cass with excitement only to find out it wasn't Cass. Near to the end and after the fight against Chuck, they exchange some word, but one of those stood out from the rest, when Chuck (now former God) asked to them if they're gonna kill him, calling Dean the Ultimate Killer, answering  -That's not who I am- implying a massive change in his core self.

Those words right there show us how Dean changed... those words from Cass... Was all that Dean truly needed to believe what he was, what he always has been, The old Dean would have killed Chuck in a heartbeat but not this Dean... not Cass’s Dean...

Dean and Castiel changed each other, they changed the world, and they changed us too... 

Sam and Eileen

Sam and Dean share the pain of almost everything that happens in the show but he was emotionally stronger/stable than Dean, so he was fine even when he wasn't... And so it will be...

At S15 and after a few encounters with Eileen in S11 and S12 Sam develops a deep relationship with her until Chuck appears in the picture with his "control over her" thing... and they separated because she thinks she can't be trusted, in 15.18 she's killed by Chuck... Sam is in pain, his new love has died but he manages to stay calm, he's sad but still fighting... in 15.19 he's sad for Eileen, Cass and everyone, they feel defeated but by the end of the episode he completely forgets her... In 15.20 he doesn't even know who she is, so the deep relationship they had is like if it never existed...

The Writers Fuckup

E19 ended and there was no Cass or Eileen, actually in the last minutes of the episode we saw how the narrative made Dean and Sam forget about Cass and Eileen completely by not asking Jack to bring them back too...

E20 the last episode of the show there's like zero recognition of Cass or Eileen, they barely name Cass 2 times, no feelings or reaction attached... Nothing to Cass's love confession or sacrifice, we do not even see them mourning their “best friend” of 12y the one who sacrificed for them and Dean after the confession does nothing (they make Dean completely forget about him, until at the end when he was like, Cass, yes i remember that guy... in heaven with a beautiful side smile)... 

We all know Dean and how he is with this type of things and feelings, he's just not good with them, but everytime that Cass has died in the past Dean just loses control, he ends up exploding when it's about Bubu, but not this time and this time was the most personal and important of all. So no reaction from Dean is a completely out of character move and the same for Sam with Eileen...

Season 15 is full of feelings and too much heart, is the final season and we can feel it... in 15.03 Cass break up with Dean with very sad words, and Dean made him feel like that, but we can see the pain of this goodbye on Dean's face and he's just too stubborn to say something... 15.04 we see a glance of what’s to come thanks to Becky, she tried to warn us and we didn't listen... in 15.06-07 Eileen is back with Sam like together Together, 15.08 Dean and Cass got a moment alone with Rowena in Hell while she gives them a couples therapy session, pretty hilarious to see but with a lot of weight for them, in 15.09 they have to go to purgatory, Dean finds himself alone, time is running out and he's on his knees praying to Cass, crying, apologising for everything he did and said, he's desperate to find Cass NOW!. Sam's fighting against God and showing us those possible futures, Eileen saying goodbye, 'cause she doesn't trust herself around the boys... And so much more.

The End came and it felt weird in general, even empty in some parts like, the Winchesters not doing anything to save Cas from the Empty like they have done in the past, the stupid dead of Dean, they took everything from him, they remove the possibility to try a different life like he was trying to (the CV in Dean's desk, he was trying to do more than just hunting, he wanted more from life), Since season 02 after something big happens we see how Dean doesn't want the hunter life, he is tired but he keeps fighting no matter what... They're free of Chucks control and yes, maybe that means that as they're no longer the protagonist of Chucks story, they are gonna have a -normal life with normal people problems- like Garth tells them in 15.10, and probably a normal hunters death, but they are still the last of their kind, -Heroes, like in the old days- words from Fortuna, (Goddess of Luck in 15.11) while she give them The Luck of the Old Heroes something that was completely forgotten in the narrative of the next episode, Jack not bringing Cass back with the rest of the world, Eileen disappearance of Sam's “happy ending”, with Eileen being allegedly alive, Sam does nothing to go and find her... In heaven Baby's plate are KAZ, like WTF with that change, what is the purpose of putting those plate from S01/02 now... and something more weird from this episode is that Dean is almost always the main character but in this episode it's Sam, it was all about Sam's ending, the Roadhouse was from Ellie not Bobby's, what is he doing there and why Dean goes there and not to other place more meaningful for him like to his house with mom, the Bunker, the Barn (i wish)? and last but not least Vampires didn't exist in John's journal/Bestiary he thought they were extinct in 01.20 they talk about that...

A few things weren't so bad, callbacks of the first episodes, the words that Dean and Sam shared, the promise of not resurrecting him back even when neither of them wants for this to happen, the unconditional love between the brothers... Sam having a normal life doing what his brother told him to. Jack fixing heaven creating a special type of Heaven just for Dean, -The Heaven that you DESERVE- Bobby's words in 15.20, Bobby with the eyebrow thing and long pause after saying Cass name to Dean -Well (...) Cass Helped- Dean smiling when he hears Cass name (even in the end they keep throwing us this type of scenes)...

A few good things don't change a bad episode from being bad... overall the episode didn't feel like a Supernatural episode it was hollow out of character and a complete disappointment...

The Queerbaiting

The queerbaiting in this show was in another level, all those continues references about stuff that only LGBT+ people would understand, the inspiration behind Dean Winchester character, other characters recognizing the “boyfriends tag” between Dean and Cass, hints and specific reaction of Dean with other male characters and with Cass pushed in the show too vigorously since 01.04, the long stares between Dean and Cass (i love those), Dean opening his heart mostly to Cass and Cass to Dean, the writers keep throwing girls to Dean and he keeps like.. Hot, she's really hot, okay bye... the famous 08.07 scene, all this and more was deliberately put there...

Remember, these are fictional characters created and directed to say and act in a specific way in the show, so nothing of what we saw in 15y was a mistake or us imagining things where there's nothing to imagine.

After all the character development Dean and Cass had, He was ready to say it in 15.09 and maybe, just maybe, Cass didn't let him talk because of the Empty deal that he had, can you imagine that... Dean was ready...

The signs of Dean being Bi were all over the show, in season 08 Dean developed PTSD for Cass and That scene in 08.07... Dean's confession in 10.16 where he said he -wants to experience things, people, and feelings differently or even for the first time-, Remember when Cass died and Dean was pissed all the time but Cass came back and Dean was so happy and hipeted about it 13.06... and what happened in purgatory 15.09 when he opens his heart to Cass, Dr. Sexy... and there are more of this in 12 seasons... 

The Perfect Ending

“The Perfect Ending” just doesn't exist... it would be for it to never end, we just care too much... but if they have to die, well, they can die of old age after helping the new generation and living their lives or something like that... I'm glad that I even got to see what we saw, the boys journey against evil and all the love in between (15.20 wasn't a good episode it didn't feel right i'm gonna salt and burn it most of it...). Supernatural is not a perfect show but the beautiful thing about perfection is that it's imperfect too...

I do Choose to believe in a different ending one with Cass and Eileen in it, why?... Because the boys deserve to enjoy the world and people that they helped to saved, they deserve to be loved... and i refuse to think otherwise... THIS IS FOR MY PEACE OF MIND

#supernatural #destiel #destiel is finally canon #destiel is love #spn #15x20 carry on #i need you #i love you #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #spn 15x19 #eileen leahy

[chiseler]

Wanted Man: On THE FUGITIVE

The road at night is home to one of America’s perennially romantic figures: the man who’s on the lam. The escaping slave wading in the water to throw off the dogs; the western outlaw with his face on a Wanted poster and a price on his head; the Depression-era bank robber gunning his stolen V-8 toward the state line. Guilt or innocence is almost incidental; it’s the race to stay free, and the need to keep on the move, that lend such dark luster to the fugitive. The double meaning of “wanted man” is inherent, never stated more succinctly than in Nightfall (1957), when just before they kiss Anne Bancroft tells Aldo Ray, who is pursued by both cops and criminals, “You’re the most wanted man I know.”

With all due respect to Aldo Ray, the most wanted man of all was surely David Janssen, who carried one hundred and twenty episodes of the television drama The Fugitive (1963-1967) with a charisma deeply rooted in the unease, alienation, and desperation of the man on the run. As Dr. Richard Kimble, who escapes en route to the death house after being falsely convicted of killing his wife, Janssen imbued the show with a hunted, haunted, hellhound-on-my-trail mystique. His might be called a one-note performance, but that note is a suppressed intensity that never slackens for an instant; he never forgets or lets us forget that he’s under sentence of death. The fear of being caught is in his husky, constrained voice; the nervous smile that twitches one side of his mouth; his darting, plaintive eyes; the way he stands with his shoulders slightly hunched, as if against a cold wind. Every woman wants to give him aid and comfort. Who could resist a strong, quiet, kind, yet just possibly dangerous man who is also as lost, alone, and in need of help as the bedraggled stray kitten he fleetingly bonds with at the end of the series debut? Because Kimble is a mensch, at times perilously close to a saint, it’s all the more important that Janssen has a dark, gritty edge to his presence. While the scripts place him again and again in the position of risking his safety to help someone in trouble, Janssen brings out Kimble’s exhaustion and bitterness, his reflexive distrust of authority, his lonely and self-punishing stubbornness.

Every episode of The Fugitive ends with Kimble alone, walking down the highway, thumbing a ride, huddling in the back of a truck, skulking through a railyard, or slumping in the gloom of a Greyhound bus—disappearing into the no-man’s-land of the American night. The look and mood of the series are relentlessly drab and melancholy. “Another shabby room, another lonely night,” the narrator intones; another dreary town that looks just like the last, another cheap hotel, another menial job where the stranger must put up with bullying bosses and needling co-workers, another toxic web of resentments and desires waiting to trap the newcomer. The Fugitive paints the life of a drifter as a dismal and repetitive slog. In this it forms a perfect counterpoint to Route 66, another popular television show with which it overlapped. (Route 66 ran from 1960 to 1964, and Janssen was a guest star on the show just before The Fugitive began its run.) Buz and Todd, footloose buddies zipping around the country in a Corvette, are troubadours for the philosophy of moving on; at each stop they help release people trapped in emotional ruts, then motor on, restless searchers for some ultimate true home.

These contrasting shows nicely illustrate the two kinds of travel that haunt the American imagination: exploration and flight, discovery and escape. To be on the road is to be free, unfettered by emotional bonds or confining routines, going to the next new place. To be on the lam is to have no safe haven, no-one to trust, just a desperate and dwindling hope of eluding capture. In The Fugitive, Richard Kimble wants nothing more than to settle down, to return to the stable and wholesome life he once had as a pediatrician in the fictional small town of Stafford, Indiana. He roams (rather than fleeing the country) in the far-fetched hope of tracking down the one-armed man he saw running from his home the night his wife was murdered. He stubbornly pursues the dream of clearing his name—a determination that is part of the machinery required to keep the series in its perpetual holding pattern of flight and pursuit. The paradox of the show is that it depicts all the horrors of being a fugitive—the constant fear of betrayal, the impossibility of forming ties, the need to remain in a sub-legal twilight—yet also creates an irresistible glamour around the figure of the fugitive, who is strangely purified by his shadowy existence outside society, and who unintentionally seduces or provokes the masses gnawing at their private traps.

The show’s machinery is also kept running by Kimble’s dedicated hellhound, Lieutenant Gerard (Barry Morse). Writer Stanford Whitmore confessed to deliberately giving the character a name similar to Javert, the monomaniacal policeman obsessed with capturing Jean Valjean in Les Misérables. Gerard, who comes within a whisker of catching Kimble in roughly every third episode, is robotic in his idée-fixe; inhuman in his refusal to respond emotionally or change his mind. The keynote of his character is his peculiar refusal to state that he personally believes his quarry to be guilty. Every time the question comes up, Gerard smugly states that it doesn’t matter what he thinks. “The law pronounced him guilty. I enforce the law. Whether the law is right or wrong is not my concern. Let others debate and conclude. But when I begin to doubt, to question—I can’t permit it.” In a sense, Gerard is not a person at all, but a personification of authority at its most rigid and unimaginative. Often, people encountering Gerard remark that now that they have met him, they hope Kimble gets away. Even more often, the thwarted Gerard complains that he can’t understand why so many people, especially women, side with the fugitive and help him escape.

Kimble is a litmus test. Every plot turns on the way people react when they learn who he really is. Some help him because they believe he’s innocent; or because they’re grateful for something he’s done; or for some obscure personal reason, like a desire to get back at someone else who wants to turn him in. Some people betray him because they figure it’s their duty under the law, some for gain, some out of spite. Carrying his own story with him like a personal storm-cloud, Kimble continually stumbles into situations involving crime, injustice, mistaken identities, false accusations, and deceptive schemes. The whole country is filled with wrongly accused ie. nnocents and villains with law-abiding fronts. In “Come Watch Me Die,” Kimble helps a young man who is accused of murder but proclaims his innocence escape lynching, only to learn that he did commit the brutal killing and is a remorseless sociopath. Frequently Kimble is torn between his need to testify to things he’s witnessed, and his fear of coming forward and risking police attention. He’s a supremely ethical, conscientious man for whom the law and all its trappings is the enemy. “Come Watch Me Die” ends with a rare moment of humor, when a sheriff, favorably impressed by the way Kimble has captured the killer, asks if he has ever considered a career in law enforcement. The fugitive responds with a nervous, queasy smile.

Flung from one moral dilemma to the next, he is constantly caught between his societally-imposed guilt, which forces him to hide his identity, and his innate goodness. “Wings of an Angel” incisively illustrates the way he is caught between the forces of law and crime. Wounded when he (yet again) helps capture an escaping convict, he’s taken to the nearest place for treatment—which happens to be a prison hospital. He’s a hero to the guards whom he fears and a villain to the inmates, who sneeringly call him “cop-lover.” When some inmates recognize him, they blackmail him into stealing morphine for the prison’s junkies. Being a doctor adds to Kimble’s trials, as he often feels obligated to help the injured despite the risks of revealing his medical knowledge.

Though he always resists serious moral compromise, his life is constructed of lies and deceptions: in every town he assumes a new name, invents a back-story and a home town, fills job applications with phony references. He’s quite ready to knock people down to make an escape, steal a wallet when he needs identification, or fake his own death. His surprising competence at living outside the law is a large part of his attraction. In “See Hollywood and Die,” when he is held hostage by two young thugs along with a woman whose car they steal, Kimble convinces them that he’s a cool professional crook, and plays the part of a fast-working seducer to forge an alliance with his fellow hostage. The sense that this man could be dangerous, if he wanted to be, keeps him from seeming too idealized—or rather, it idealizes him in a different and more appealing way.

Much has been written about the transference of guilt in Hitchcock’s wrong-man stories. But being a fugitive, even with all the attendant ethical snares, does not tarnish Kimble’s conviction of his own innocence and his right to stay free and alive. (The one exception comes when, inevitably, he contracts amnesia, and on learning his identity, can’t be sure of his innocence.) The moral dilemmas so elaborately constructed in each episode can sometimes feel contrived or repetitive or strain credulity, but the show is driven by this basic, burning core of Kimble’s desperation, his raw fear and profound depression whenever he’s cornered or fingerprinted or locked in a cell. The suspense is superficial yet sure-fire: watching each episode, I know perfectly well that he’s not going to get caught, because if he did the show would be over, yet I respond with dutiful Pavlovian reflexes. Oh no! How’s he going to get out of it this time?

The Fugitive has the ritualistic, same-time-next-week quality of classic television, so different from today’s mandatory novelistic arcs. Each episode opens with a re-cap of the premise, which grows tiresome, though it comes in the deliciously portentous voice of William Conrad. (The credits were changed, very much for the worse, at the start of the second season; the season one credits include wonderful noirish footage of Kimble’s escape from a train wreck, and Conrad somberly intoning, “Richard Kimble ponders his fate as he looks at the world for the last time, and sees only darkness. But in that darkness, fate moves its huge hand…”) The Fugitive was the creation of Roy Huggins, the veteran writer and producer who was also behind Maverick, 77 Sunset Strip, Run for Your Life, and The Rockford Files. According to his obituary in the New York Times, Huggins taught himself to write by copying Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely in longhand, which is enough to put him in my good books. He got into movies when his novel Too Late for Tears was adapted into a taut and terrific 1947 film noir with Lizabeth Scott and Dan Duryea. A member of the Communist Party until 1939, he was called before HUAC in 1952 and pragmatically named names—but only of those who had already been named. Presumably, he knew something about moral compromise.

The Fugitive was both a critical and popular success, though only for one season did its ratings break into the top five TV shows. Famously, the show’s finale (a two-parter called “The Judgment”) was watched by more people than any previous television program—72% of all households that owned TV’s tuned in. For the record, I have not yet seen the final episode, since I am still working my way through season three. I have an idea how it might go, though: I imagine Kimble will capture the one-armed man and be exonerated, at which point all of the scores of women who fell in love with him over the course of 120 episodes will appear, saying, “At last we can be together!” Then an enormous fight will break out, and he’ll be torn to pieces like Orpheus by the Maenads.

But seriously…

The enduring power of The Fugitive lies precisely in its unresolved tension, the way it portrays being a fugitive as a universal and eternal condition. Richard Kimble has nothing. He often carries a small suitcase, but since he’s regularly forced to flee with only the clothes on his back, the suitcases can’t hold anything that he’s attached to. He has no identification, just whatever petty cash he earned at his last job. He works as a mechanic, a farm laborer, a handyman, a lifeguard, a truck driver, a hospital orderly—always something faceless and expendable. He goes by whatever name he pulls off the top of his head. But his own identity clings to him as an inescapable threat: his fingerprints and his face inform against him, yet he never tries plastic surgery or burning his fingertips with acid. (He does dye his hair, but this fools no-one—though it vastly improves his appearance, and neatly distinguishes his fugitive identity from his previous square self.)

The scripts may insist that Dr. Kimble yearns to go back to being a solid citizen, with his medical degrees hanging proudly on the walls of his office, but those who love the show just want to see him in another shabby room, for another lonely night. He’s the eternal drifter; the hitch-hiker with the worried face; the guy keeping to himself in the corner of a boxcar; the stray that every woman wants to take in and console; the friendless stranger turning up his collar against the cold wind; the man who is from everywhere but here, and who’ll be from here soon.

by Imogen Sara Smith

[almaasi]

Thank you SO MUCH to the 2,000 people subscribed to me on AO3 (and my 10,000 followers on tumblr)!!!

Thank you for your endless kindness, and every comment ever sent my way. Thank you for getting excited about what I make. You’re all wonderful.

In celebration, here’s some art, which is based on a dream I had the other day. Plus!! Under the read-more: A fic rec of people’s favourite 15 stories, which you guys voted for in my recent survey. ♥

★ A list of the many ways YOU can support my writing and art !!

★ All my Destiel fics on AO3

★ Subscribe on THIS PAGE to get an email when I post a few fic~

Top Voted Destiel fics (written by @almaasi​)

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Try-Something Tuesday · 48k · NC-17

Human AU. Dean Winchester teaches a third-grade class. He’s new to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing - but by pure happenstance, he meets Castiel: a particularly dapper male librarian who moonlights as a substitute teacher. Dean’s curious and Castiel is willing, so why the hell not? Except, fate never intended it to be one-time-only…

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Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies · 17.6k · M

Dean’s roommate is not what anyone would call ordinary. Cas is asexual, and autistic, and he frustrates other people with his unrelentingly ‘childish’ ways – but it’s different with Dean: they have an exceptional bond, something truly profound. Dean figures Cas wouldn’t respond to the idea of a crush the way most people would, so he has no intention of telling him he’s been harbouring non-platonic feelings for him for years. Then one night everything falls to pieces: Cas overhears something he wasn’t meant to hear. Things were never normal between the two of them, but now they might never be comfortable again.

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Note to Self: Cas Loves You · 3.4k · T

Dean is not just drunk – he is VERY drunk. Castiel ushers him back to their motel room, completely aware that by the time Dean wakes up tomorrow, he won’t remember anything about tonight. What better time for Castiel to confess his love?

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Sam Accidentally Sees the Whole Picture · 10.4k · NC-17

Sam’s been through a lot lately, what with tonight’s hunt rendering his skin an aching shade of purple and all. He can deal with Dean being overly concerned about Cas’ broken finger, and - God help him - he puts up with the sound of their preposterously soppy love confessions and first kisses on the adjacent bed. But he cannot be expected to remain silent and feign sleep throughout the entire duration of their first-ever lovemaking session. He just can’t. Especially not, because it seems apparent that Cas is more intent on deflowering himself than letting Dean do it.

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A Postcard for Castiel · 4.7k · G

The teacher assigns a buddy to all the children in her first-grade class. Everyone writes their buddy a postcard, giving them a compliment. Dean is supposed to write something for Castiel, the mysterious autistic kid in the corner – but he doesn’t hand anything in. Does he have nothing to say? Or does he have too much to say?

p.S. will you Be my Boyfrend ?

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Dean’s List · 3.3k · T

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

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Understanding Your Body in Ten Easy Steps · 12.2k · NC-17

All Dean has to do is track down a decent porno for Cas to watch, help him find his sensitive spots, then hang back and let him do his thing. Easy-peasy. No homo. …Absolutely no homo at all.

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Welcome All Winchesters · 60.2k · NC-17

When Dean’s engagement breaks off three days before Christmas, he’s left with nobody to accompany him on a road trip to his family’s mountain log cabin. His best friend Castiel happens to be available, and is willing to help him through a tough time. But when Dean’s mother and brother arrive, expecting to meet the person Dean plans to marry, they understandably assume Castiel is Dean’s fiancé. After a weekend of comfortable domesticity, sharing clothes, intimate conversations, and definitely-one-time-only therapy sex, it feels almost too easy for Dean and Cas to fake a loving, romantic relationship. The hard part is going back to being friends afterwards. They can’t keep their hands off each other, and they’ve discovered some fun things to do together which they’d never tell another soul about. And, oh boy, feelings. Now being ‘just friends’ is so impossible, it seems as if fate had another plan for them all along…

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Snow Place Like Home (But My Home Is With You) · 47.8k · NC-17

It’s Christmas Eve, and Dean, Sam and Castiel are snowed into a small town with a big festive spirit. They splurge on a fancy room in a B&B – hey, they deserve a treat. There’s a tiny plastic tree and a working TV, so they could perhaps overlook the lack of hot water and Dean having to bunk with Sam. Sleeping arrangements soon reach a happier equilibrium: Dean’s just cuddling Cas to keep him warm, he swears – the tingly feeling means nothing! Christmas Day arrives, and Cas still doesn’t have a gift for Dean. Dean doesn’t know what to give Cas, either. Sam has a few ideas, but will the other two truly understand what he means?

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Love Him in His Sleep (Love Him Always) · 32.7k · NC-17

After Cas banishes Dean’s nightmares, Dean starts to have wet dreams… about being cuddled. When he wakes, he’s sticky and aroused - and he loves it. Oh, he loves it a lot. Castiel, meanwhile, is struggling with his own descent into the murky waters of human morality. How is he supposed to explore all these new lustful feelings if Dean insists on keeping him at arm’s length?

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Cowboys and Real Estate Angels · 36.8k · NC-17

Castiel crosses paths with the ever-charming Dean Winchester at a rodeo show in Texas, of all places. Dean’s singing days are long bygone, but his crowd-pleasing skills haven’t waned one iota. Unexpectedly, Castiel finds himself in Dean’s bedroom; they take and they give, and discover that sometimes strangers can find love like this, too. (And if a man’s faith can’t be put in God, it needs to go somewhere…)

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Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted · 58.4k · NC-17

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy’s uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man’s preferences a secret. It’s 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn’t know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel’s story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

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Angelhawke · 407k · NC-17

A Dean/Cas Fantasy-Drama AU, set in a medieval world where two men are separated by a curse: every sunrise and sunset, both are eternally bound to transform into animals. Every night when darkness falls, Dean Winchester becomes a wolf, and his human mind is lost until the dawn. As the sun rises, his lover Castiel becomes a hawk. Their story has been the same for five years - until the day that a young thief named Sam stumbles into their twisted lives. Without even realising it, he becomes a part of their destiny, their paths entwined in prophecy and fate. Together with a few old friends, they set off on a journey to break the curse, but it won’t be easy. To pass the time, Dean and Castiel take turns to recount their past to Sam, narrating the tale of how they met, how they formed their profound bond, and how they found themselves wanting what no man should ever want: the touch of another man.

‘Angelhawke’ is a saga of forbidden love, friendship, and magic - but above all, family. Partially based on the 1985 movie ‘Ladyhawke’.

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Sharing the Rain Dog · 19.8k · M

When some asshole hits a dog with his car and drives off, the first two people on the scene are Dean and Castiel. Castiel’s an FBI agent with a plane to catch, and he doesn’t have time to take the dog to the vet. Dean’s a musician, and he doesn’t have the money. An agreement is reached: Dean goes, Castiel pays, and they’ll exchange details and meet again to work things out. But who gets the dog? Sooner or later they’re going to realise that having shared custody of one pitbull isn’t ideal. She needs one home, not two. One stable, loving home…

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Our Garden Home · 36.3k · G

Flower fairy Dean has caught a thief in his trap. As it turns out, it wasn’t a mouse stealing his food. It was Castiel: a hissy, bitey bat sprite with one wing and a forlorn, lonely heart. Dean offers a warm space in his nest, where Castiel can stay until Springtime comes around again. However, Castiel becomes more than just a guest. With a little effort, he helps make Dean’s nest a home.

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#Destiel #Destiel fanart #Destiel fic rec #DeanCas #Elmie writes things #Elmie draws things #Elmie makes things #post of postiness #the dream was way angstier tbh #there were no clouds.... but there were balloons #and dean crying while singing #i might write a fic based on it?? just gotta ponder on it for a while longer #tagging with the title just in case: #Lost Night #* #milestones #ao3 #subscribers #<3 <3 <3 #I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERY LITTLE BIT OF SUPPORT YOU'VE EVER GIVEN ME #I'M SO GRATEFUL ;U; #edit: put the fic rec under a read more because nobody's reblogging??? D:

[shiraglassman]

Book rec: bi MC stars in new f/f YA "How to Make a Wish"

Review originally appeared in The Lesbrary. How to Make a Wish by Ashley Herring Blake is the queer girl version of the classic trope of two lonely teens bonding over understanding each other’s parallel, if not similar, sadness. Having lost a lot of family within a relatively short span of years, there’s a part of me that became a Harry/Luna ‘shipper from the moment we saw them sharing loss in the kind of profound way neither does with the other kids, and that’s what I got from Grace and Eva in this book. Not that they’re mourning the same loss — Grace wishes for a sober, stable mother who cares about her as more than an extension of herself, and Eva’s reeling from her mother’s sudden death due to surgery complications.

But still, it’s the story of two young women, a pianist and a ballerina, whose shared emptiness creates a pull that draws them magnetically toward each other. They are healthy influences in each other’s lives, and it’s so good and affirming to see teen girls loving each other framed as “a healthy part.” In fact, Grace has had a super fucked up childhood and adolescence thanks to her mother, but her bisexuality is one of the few parts of her life that’s healthy and normal and hasn’t been ruined by the kind of parenting that drags the kid around from boyfriend’s house to boyfriend’s house until the new boyfriend catches you stealing again.

I will never get tired of this.

I’ll say it again: I’ll never get tired of this. I will never tire of framing a girl’s noticing of other girls “that way” as one of the ways to be a normal teen, as one of the ways to be a child, as one of the ways to be functioning as opposed to code language for someone being dysfunctional. Especially a bi character, because so many people have used that as a shortcut for how out of control we’ve let ourselves get.

Eva’s a lesbian and she’s awarded that innocence, too. We both need it, lesbians and bi girls alike.

Grace’s description of what it was like for her, as a bi girl who her ex-boyfriend “used to turn [her] into a puddle”, to crush on the friendly, alluring, straight lifeguard Natalie lined up exactly with what my straight-girl crushes were like at that age and–dammit–continue to be like. (Ladies, you are lovely.) It’s nice to be allowed to feel kinship with that moment, and be validated that yes, plenty of other girls who are still attracted to men can feel what we feel when that girl is with us, and that it’s okay to open up that path to all it has to offer. I also found an echo of my own past in Grace’s mom’s response in the past to when she came out. To respond to a declaration that someone likes girls with Well, sure, who doesn’t? is very, very familiar.

The main plot of the book isn’t just the romance, though, but Grace dealing with her mom, who’s the kind of person who steals from your piggybank to buy swag to throw you a birthday party with all her own favorite colors–on the wrong day. Given that I have the kind of mom who fled Irma two days before everyone else because she’s so careful and on-the-ball, this made for a fascinating read into a terrifying version of teen years when a minor is forced to parent her own parent. Blake does a wonderful job of showing the walls closing in, of the mindset that traps you into thinking that you can’t leave, you have to stay, because how else will she be safe? She needs you.

Except, no. That isn’t actually helping anyone. I was rooting for Grace the whole time and rest assured, the book delivers.

You can watch Grace teetering over the edge and pulling back over and over again in a kind of deftly unreliable narrator voice that reminds you that you’re listening to a teenage survivor who’s almost half brainwashed. She catches herself, for example, about to make assumptions about Eva based on her own mother and then hates that her mother is turning her into something “unfeeling and cold.”

I read it in one sitting with my cat lying on my chest–the prose and the chatty way the narrator talks to the reader carries you along in a swift current of plot and description. The characters and scenery are all pretty vivid and easy to picture. Also, I love this  book’s depiction of male-female platonic friendship, between Grace and her buddy Luca, with Luca’s adorable mom being the Adopted Mom foil for Grace’s own mother.

Emetophobia trigger on page 91 from walk-ons at a teenage party. Also, at one point the annoying teenage boy character (the ex-boyfriend from the puddle line) calls Eva “exotic” but it’s called out a few pages later and Eva is given a lot of space to discuss how it made her feel and why she doesn’t like it.

Shira Glassman is either a bisexual Jew or twelve tiny bisexual Jews in a trench coat; either way, she lives in north central Florida and plays violin when she’s not yelling “what are you EATING?!” at the cat. Her latest release is Knit One Girl Two, a fluffy romance between two Jewish girls bonding over fandom, making art, and dealing with the changes in their lives.

#lesbian books #bisexual books #wlw #sapphic #booklr #how to make a wish

[miraclejin1204]

Mandatory bughead post #2: My thoughts on Bughead and why it is important.

I’m aware that the words ‘bughead’ & ‘important’ in the same sentence seem like a misfit but there is a good reason why I’ve chosen to write it so. This thought came to my mind whilst trawling through the morass of ‘ships’ & ‘ship-wrecks’ on tumblr & twitter about Riverdale. 

Now, I’m not someone who watches a lot of TV shows ,however, Riverdale was a serendipitous discovery that happened to me two weeks ago. 

I have been a fan of Archie comics since I was little & my two favourite characters were Jughead & Betty, in that order. Watching Riverdale was a revelation as it brought me back to the Archie’s world and I saw it in a new light. I went into it without expectations.

What I was not prepared for was how Bughead would gently creep up on me and reign over my entire existence in such a short span of time. 

You see, I have had a few ships, some fleeting and some enduring,some canon and some fantasy, however nothing as rabid or as intense that’d induce an “I’m SHOOK” moment. Until bughead happened.

When I used to read the comic books, I had wanted Archie to one day wake up & realize that Betty was the one for her, because I could so relate to her as a kind & sweet girl, being taken for granted every time and with a history of unrequited love. I’m 30 now and life-experiences, especially of the bitter kind has certainly changed my perspective about these things, especially about romantic relationships. No more suffering fairy-tale princesses for me. 

In the comics, although Jughead and Betty were my favourites and they always were good to each other, the thought of them as a potential match had never crossed my mind. I was intrigued and amused by Jughead’s woman-hating stance and had imagined that one day an extraordinary woman worthy of him would come and sweep him off his feet.I had no concept of sexuality and its associated complications that we see today, it was only a pure and innocent fantasy in my mind. 

I had only been familiar with the ‘classic’ and humorous golden age Archie comic digests and was unaware of the modern reboots and the various universes. Therefore, when I started watching Riverdale, I was immediately hooked to its modern,quirky & dark narrative and had my assumptions broken down bit by bit with each episode. When I started with the show, five episodes were already in so I binge watched them in a single night, which left me with little time to process the minute details and subtleties, which is why I missed noticing the growing chemistry Betty and Jughead. 

It was only when I began exploring the show on the internet and understood the whole narrative and tone of the show,re-watched the episodes, saw the interviews, trawled Tumblr & youtube and accidentally saw the leaked bughead kiss is when it hit me like slap on the face and a swift kick in the ovaries. It nearly felt like enlightenment!

Once I had seen and felt it, there was no going back. It was a like a virus firmly implanted in my psyche. I resurrected my dormant and inactive tumblr and twitter accounts only to ship bughead. I’m sure fellow bughead fans know the drill of our coming undone so I won’t go into much detail. 

Coming to the next part. Riverdale or rather Bughead has come into my life as a breath of fresh air when I am going through a very dark and stressful phase. I have been going through a very difficult divorce from a man, who caused mental abuse and cheated my family of money & absconded and left me to deal with the consequences and legal battles, triggering my anxiety,fear and depression. A man whom I had trusted with my everything and was completely vulnerable to, used me and left me with a deep fear and mistrust of relationships, trauma and some very hard learnt lessons. I’m an eternal romantic but a part of me has become cynical about it. 

Riverdale is a unique show as is evident in its excellent writing,for those who care to notice the nuances and characterisations. The symbolism, fore-shadowing, word-play, subtle body-language cues of the characters, parallelism and of course, a quality mystery is the gold-standard of writing. Can we also talk about the wonderful and talented cast who have given life to the characters? The show is a slow burn and not for those with a shallow mind who are looking for popcorn entertainment with a lot of mindless drama and illogical  and unstable romantic pairings based on lust and superficial chemistry,

Bughead is not just a run of the mill ship that people are fangirling over. It is beautiful union which tells you the story of two woefully young and tender yet jaded individuals, thrown together by a tragic fate, who are battling the darkness within and without, fighting for something that’s bigger than them and their personal problems. They are fighting for justice, light and hope. In spite of their struggle with their personal demons. Can you imagine what they are going through? For any child, parents are the safe space when the world around them crumbles, but both Betty and Jughead’s parents let them down with lies, manipulation and broken promises and the possibility that their families could be the perpetrators of murder. Under such horrible circumstances, they find the safe space with each other.  

They both are mature beyond their years, insightful, righteous, kind, compassionate, supportive and caring and there for each other without being asked. They communicate with their heart and eyes (sometimes with heart eyes too ;) ) It is not a connection based on lust and hormonal surges. Something very old-fashioned and real in the era of hook-ups. An oasis in a desert.

People who keep harping on about how there is no chemistry at all between Jughead and Betty and that it was rushed and illogical, then I’m sorry that you’re oblivious to everything that is going on in the show. They have been friends since childhood.

I think we do not give the writers enough credit for writing something so profound and refreshing in spite of it being a teen drama. A homeless, abandoned, rudderless boy, an outcast who is bullied, selflessly helps a  girl find her sister and uncover the truth, not because he wants to get into her pants. A stifled, lonely yet nurturing and loving girl giving strength, support and courage to a lost and scared boy failed by his father and society. They are each other’s guardian angels.

So I ask this to all the haters..can’t you see this? Are you so blinded by your superficial hate and violent desire to stuff your ship down everyone’s throats because it gives you some sort of false sense of control over others that you have lost the ability to objectively see what the show is striving for through this beautiful narrative within the confines of what is ostensibly a teen drama? Can we not rise above our pettiness of mindless and hostile shipping to learn from it? Everyone is free to ship whomever and whatever they want but it is another thing to be so vitriolic and spiteful towards the others to have your way. Isn’t shipping supposed to be all about love anyway? Bughead is so much above all this petty drama, it is transcendental.  

There’s so much that all of us, teens and even adults can learn from this ideal of a super healthy relationship that both television and our lives need. We need to move away from toxicity both in entertainment and our lives. Can we not be inspired to work on ourselves and build supportive, organic and nurturing relationships? This should give so much inspiration to the teens of today. With Betty & Veronica, the show strives to re-build the idea of strong, female friendships which seems to have become an alien concept in the world of ‘frenemy’ culture. Why can’t two girls be healthy best friends without the assumption that there is something sexual between them? People are hating on Bughead also for a fact that they are a heterosexual couple. As I see it, love is love in any shape or form.

Also, I do agree that all sorts of representation must have a place in popular culture and thankfully it is happening. However, those who are unhappy with Bughead saying that it erases Jughead’s asexuality, I disagree. Are you saying that Asexual people can’t fall in love? That they don’t deserve an intimate bond with another?

Now, in the larger Archie comicverse, Jughead was never portrayed as being an asexual, he simply was smarter and wiser and had other priorities compared to his hormone crazed pals. He was always the voice of reason. I’m sure that there are people like that, not everyone who doesn’t choose to be a crazy, horned dog is asexual. Besides, Jughead is shown to be asexual in only one version of the comics. There can be multiple variations of characteristics in the larger universe. Riverdale chooses its own narrative and characters as it sees fit for the context of the show. Therefore, in this version, Jughead isn’t asexual or aromantic. There is no erasure of any kind. Even if he were asexual, I’m sure that Bughead still can have a loving and healthy relationship.

It is my personal opinion and I am not trying to belittle anyone or trivialising the serious issue of representation in anyway. However, I do feel that in today’s world where there is so much hate and strife, showing love and companionship in its true and purest form is the most important issue here, first and foremost. It doesn’t really matter whatever is the sexuality or orientation of the characters in question. So, let us all keep our differences aside and show our love and support to something is for the greater good. Love is universal and not restricted to a specific type or form. Besides, it is fiction,let’s remember that. 

I also think that we must avoid pressuring or attacking the creative team, actors and show runners into bullying them to change their vision for the show. That truly doesn’t serve any purpose other than being detrimental to the quality of the show and making the team de-motivated. Let’s all appreciate the hard work and love everyone has put in to present to us something that is so beloved and cherished by all.

Why is showing a healthy, supportive, wholesome and stable relationship necessary? I can tell you why, because I have suffered greatly in an unsupportive, toxic and abusive relationship that was all about selfishness and greed with no regard or love for the feelings of the other person. Where one person only gave and gave and the other only took everything. I was left drained and battered and I’m still bearing the burden of its ruins.

So, when Bughead came along, it was catharsis and relief. It was about having the hope of bright sunshine in the pitch black darkness. It was about selflessness and having high standards and working for the greater good, something that is bigger than us. It was about women not wallowing and pining after some boy who had little value or regard for them and not allowing a man decide the course of their lives .It was about unconditional love and support without labels. It was pure beauty and art, like a perfect symphony.

Bughead isn’t merely escapism. It is the light of goodness that illuminates our hearts and fills us with compassion and hope for something beautiful. It is the delicate flower that grows in the parched desert of hopelessness and deceit.

Let us protect it all costs.

#bughead #riverdale #jughead jones #betty cooper #betty x jughead #archie #archie comics #i ship it #fanfic #fandom #rant

[rarhuk]

Revelations ( part one )

(( Short story ))

Cold and dark was the night, a storm brewed over head… Ra’rhuk had waited out the hours by writing in his journal, and watching the blizzard roll in. He did not take to his patrol of Zul’drak that evening as he lacked a desire to. It was not until the storm had passed in the morning hours of the next day that he had taken to actually perform his elected duty.

Hours had passed undisturbed while he walked his lonely road, nothing of note other then a few animal tracks in the fresh white washed covering of snow. He merely walked, observed, listened to the silence while his mind traveled in the same repetitive loop as it had of late. He had tried to escape the melody that had returned by focusing on the environment. He had elected out of his own to stay here, he believed he wanted to stay in his homeland, just as he believed this was where his answers would be found. Through the prophet he had made contact with his loa, received a blessing, gained insight to what was required of him. It was deathly quite this morning, as if the world was holding it’s breath before a catastrophic event.

He had only seen one snow hare all day. It was getting late, he decided he would return to the temple to continue writing in his journal. A short time after looping back a small branch snap of a sound had gained his attention enough to cause him to pause in his almost silent tread. It was a sound he easily would have dismissed, yet the inactivity this day had been so profound he changed course to investigate. It was probably nothing more then a tree branch breaking due to the heavy snow fall and nothing more he had thought while he moved like a ghost in a fog towards the source. It was then he paused in his gait yet again, his tattered ear twitching as it picked up the faintest of sounds. A weakened heart beat within it’s confines, a shallow breath.

The figure under the shroud of a great evergreens bowing heavy bristling limbs, laid motionless on their side in a dusting of snow.  His leaning forward frame righted itself, as he internally debated if he should end the life, or let it ebb away in the cold. This was not a beast by visual inspection, he instantly had known it was a female troll by sight and scent. Too many times, he had come across his people that remained in the region, they were always tainted by madness. It would be a swift mercy killing. After a long silent debate he decided to make certain that it was not some unfortunate traveler that had became lost in the storm. He highly doubted that she was a unfortunate traveler sent to these forgotten lands just by her condition, garb that was exposed, and scent. He had been proven wrong before, so he elected to leave no room for question by giving the individual the benefit of the doubt before he acted. He placed his hand on the female’s one exposed shoulder to turn her to face his direction, he would know upon a full visual.

His hand as if under it’s own volition slipped away when he was faced with the unconscious countenance of the filthy female. He took two abrupt steps backward, blinking twice as he was stuck still with complete confusion. The matted tight to the scalp hair looked grey as did her entire being, but there was recognition... this was someone he recognized, she was different, yet the same. He stood utterly still as if his mind was frozen in mid process of what he was seeing, it wasn’t registering who this person was to him at all. As he stood there in lock down, he hadn’t reacted to the signs that the female was awakening, the heart beat and breath quickening, or small movements of the body. Even when her eyes opened, he simply stared. While her features contorted into hard fear ridden lines he continued to stare unblinkingly, who was this?!

It was the sound that came out as a rasp whimper rather then the desired scream, that had him snap out of the enthrallment. “ You are suffering from being exposed too long to the elements. I’m not here to harm you, I’m here to aid you. “ He said in zandali with his typical monotone echoing voice. With that, and very little struggle on the almost unconscious female’s part he had hoisted her up to his shoulder to carry her off by. 

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He had returned to the temple with found guest. The braziers had been lit, the female had been covered with warm furs. Ra’rhuk had allowed her to regain her strength in slumber before taking any more action with her. He had refrained from questioning as she was not in mind to answer, keeping his own disturbance to himself as he paced upon the stone floor. He was going through recalled faces of his youth attempting to do age progression in his mind. This was not the instant recognition he had when he had found his brother Kor’akk on the battle field. This female was someone he knew but could not place, he had believed before this moment his memory recall was flawless, now there was doubt. Through the night he had paced out the hours in his own thought, it was small sound she produced when she had rolled over that caused him to say a name as if his tongue had it’s own will power. “ Sandria.”

How could he not have recognized her?! As the realization of who this was struck him, he moved quickly to retrieve a basin, water, and cloth to wash her face with, to prove to himself without a shadow of a doubt who she was in name. He did not hold patience as he warmed the bowl and cloth by the fire, as if with angst of doubt, or possible denial, as if her face had to be clear of dirt to see the facts before him. His hold to her was tentative as he held anyone in an injured condition, yet all the same the grip was direct with intended purpose. He cleaned away the dirt from her brow, and dirt covered cheeks with gentle swipes. Age, and a hard life had stripped her once youthful beauty from her visage, but there were still those indications he recalled. Still he knew this was her, the memory of her young face that not too long ago gave him small comfort within a cave in a jungle a world away from here. He stared in silence for a long time as the last bit of dirt was cleared away. It was almost a reflex now to drop his frost presence around the living, although he would not be warmed until he fed, he would not be as icy cold. She was not as he remembered. Ra’rhuk had to remind himself there was a life time between them, what he saw now before had not always been as the present indicated. He did not draw her in close to give comfort, but he did not depart either as he laid her back down undisturbed to the fur covered mat.

If she was one of the crazed he would give her peace, If she had her mental faculties when she regained her strength enough to travel he would either deliver her to Shayna, or allow her to go on her way he had decided while she slept. At the moment her stability and the weather was preventing his direct departure to the priestess’s home. He was having difficulties processing still as to why he did not recognize her immediately, he should have known by sight, and scent. He did recognize her now, and that opened many more questions that he asked in silence while she slept.

A whole day passed, into a second day, Ra’rhuk did not do his patrols he merely kept watch over Sandria. There were times he was uncertain she would wake, as beyond keeping her warm with furs and fire heat. There was nothing else he could think that he could provide in aid her in regaining her strength. He thought of their past together in those longer seeming hours.

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Sandria was not a female he had loved with the depth that he had loved his Hisani. She had provided him comforts, and he in return provided for her needs, it was something arranged with mutual respect. She had no family remaining, no dowry, no rank, he provided protection, and a home to stay warm in exchange for her comforts. He had returned home from battle to a clean home, warm food, attendance to his wounds, and all his needs fulfilled. She in turn was granted an allowance of gold to provide for her needs, and a roof over her head. He had a few arrangements such as this, this one between himself and Sandria had lasted two years, one of the longest held. She did not complain, she spoke her mind, she was bold and direct, he had enjoyed her company when in it. She had always eased his mind when the need arose, and if she had issues with how things were handled in his absence she had authority granted to change it, and if she was unable to handle it upon his return he made ensured the adjustments were made to her standards.

It was a simple relationship, it saved her from working the fields or becoming a mate to a male not of her choosing. He was aware of her desire to become his mate, yet his heart had been fixated upon another to claim as his first. She did not pursue it, nor did she argue with him over it. She seemed as content in the position she had held with him, as he was with her. Ra’rhuk had been selfish in that regard when it came to emotional bonds, and perhaps had unknowingly mistreated Sandria’s value and worth to him in the process. It was unintentional of course, his mind had been more preoccupied on the battle field, the state his own gains, and how his home was ran then the emotional well being of the female. He could not see her for who she was, beyond the luxuries she gave to him, his ambitions were too strong and she had no name or place that would further advance him. Perhaps, there were small indications that she wanted more from him then he was able to give, but it was never clarified in voiced expression. it was a good distraction to come home to her comforts rather then an empty hut. It had seemed seamless and without complications. It was the way he liked it, he left home with less concerns then he had arrived with.

Ra’rhuk had never returned home after that last march.... All this time he had not thought about the fate of those that worked for him. It was as if he had dismissed their existence as one of obliteration, he had died, therefore they were no more. He could not comprehend how she was here... She should be dead by all accounts, not many had escaped Drak’Tharon keep, nor traveled with the Zandalari southward, those that remained behind that he had encountered alive were insane. These facts had caused him to wonder about her plight as Sandria slumbered. Had she waited all these years out of devotion, surviving on the meager offerings of what remained provided? Was she one of those that returned, in hopes that there was something to be done to resurrect Zul’drak to her former glory? Or was she like him.... seeking out the gods? Many thoughts invaded his mind as to how she appeared from the snow.  

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Ra’rhuk rubbed to his either side of his temples with his index fingers, his eyes on the pale brazier fires that flickered and danced like the lapping of a serpents tongue. He knew she could not remain here, he could not provide for a living being, as it was he was struggling with what care she was needing in the present. With a fresh blizzard howling outside, he could not move her or he would have already done it. He should not have brought her here, he should have directly went to the priestess Shayna’s, but he had not thought about it only reacted as to what seemed best at the time. He attempted to think of what she would need until that departure when a voice interrupted his thought process.

~ Food, water, clothes, and a bath...~ Zor’din voiced from behind his brother.

Ra’rhuk turned his head quickly causing those segments and tendons within his neck to pop and crack. “ Where the fuck ‘ave you been?” Ra’rhuk stared the spirit form down.

~ Shhhh.... You’re going to disturb her. I’ve been... around. You just needed some time to yourself. Now you need my help, so here I am. ~ His image stretched a smirk of a smile, he gave a small bow of his frame. ~ Good to see you Zordin.. How’ve you been? That’s how normal people act when seeing someone they haven’t in a long time. Your tone, sounds like you were accusing me of avoiding you or something, very rude, even for you. ~

Ra’rhuk found himself standing up and turning to face his brother, his eyes wandering as if sizing the spectral image up. “ Hmmm....” 

~ I really wasn’t expecting a warm welcome... You’re going to need fresh water, food, and other provisions if you are planning on keeping her, I was serious about that. ~ Zor’din moved closer to his brother seemingly stepping around the sleeping female. ~ And you’re going to need to feed too if you plan on keeping that presence, we can’t have you munching on the person you are trying to help.~ He snickered and as if he was actually making contact he seemed to shove his palms against Ra’rhuk’s chest plate. Not surprisingly his brother made no indication of touch, nor did his spiritual hands actually have any pressure to them at all. ~ Chop, chop, time’s a wasting. She’s going to wake up soon... I’ll keep watch over her while you’re out. ~

Ra’rhuk was silently just staring at the shade of his brother, unmoving, as if considering a great number of things. “ Very well, I’ll go, if she is sound of mind upon awakening I will take her to the priestess. “ He turned on his heel and walked out without another word.

#Ra'rhuk short story #Part one

[kiddylanes]

And Dad Balances Love Care & Discipline: Why Dads Are Important !!

Girls will look for men who hold the patterns of good old dad, for after all, they know how “to do that.” Therefore, if father was kind, loving, and gentle, they will reach for those characteristics in men. Girls will look for, in others, what they have experienced and become familiar with in childhood. Because they’ve gotten used to those familial and historic behavioral patterns, they think that they can handle them in relationships.

There is so much talk in the media about the importance of fathers and so much research that has shown that if we are an engaged father, our children are far more likely to be happy, successful and have satisfying relationships.

It is really clear that we are important, but why are we important? What is it that we provide to a child that is so valuable? If we know the important part of being a good dad then we can do it all the better.

Before I get into it, I want to address the fact that oftentimes there is not a father or there are two moms or two dads. I could have titled this video “Why it’s so important to have two involved adults,” because really it does not have to be a man that inhabits this role, but there is a real value in it not just being a single parent and child. If this is the situation, there are things you can do to effectively bring a third person or second adult into the equation and I will talk about that a little later in the video.

Similarly, although I’m speaking to the typical mother and father roles, a truly healthy relationship allows both parents to move between the masculine and feminine, each inhabiting positions of power and vulnerability, authority and tenderness.

The Great Value of Mom

Mothers are wired to merge deeply with their babies. When the baby comes out, it experiences a sense of oneness with the mother. It has no conception of being separate from the mother and there is an amazing sense of their body and the mother’s body being connected. The mother is genetically predisposed to really make the baby her world, and that profound bonding is crucial to the babies development.

As the child grows, he or she is slowly learning a sense of self separate from the mother. They learn themselves in the reflection of how we respond to them. When the mom is staring into the baby’s eyes for hours and responding to the baby’s cues, she is literally helping wire her child’s brain and provide the building blocks for his or her personality. It is even encouraged that moms allow themselves to fall into that almost obsessive bubble of merging with the baby.

This primary care giver doesn’t have to be a woman, just someone who will take the time to fall into rapture with the baby and really attend to his or her needs. A baby’s brain needs this bonding in order to arrange itself properly and without it, people literally go varying levels of insane.

The Need for a Dad or Third

As magical as this connection is, there is a need for a balancing force and this is typically provided by the father. When the dad is present from the earliest moments, the baby learns that the world doesn’t just consist of Mom. There is something beyond the sense of oneness with the mother.

With this ‘realization’ comes a sense of freedom and choice. Without a dad or a third really involved individual, the child lives in a world where the mom is the only source of goodness and thus they learn that they need to meet Mom’s needs and be connected to Mom in order to get goodness. With the father, there is another place to go to get their needs met.

What Happens without a Dad

For so many of us, being in an intimate relationship is very challenging. For far too many, it is almost impossible. Many of us are scared of being really close to another person. Scared of losing ourselves in commitment. Or scared of being rejected and abanonded. The vast majority of this wounding comes from the lack of an engaged father combined with complications in the bonding and separation from the mother that occurs in the first months of life.

When you only have a single parent and child, or a disengaged father, the child learns that they need to keep the parent happy in order to keep their world happy. A child in a home with just one parent is greatly dependent upon that parent’s mood. When the parent is down, the world is down.

This isn’t some theoretical possibilty, it’s a widespread perdicament. As an example, children in these situations often grow up to become really good at meeting the needs of those around them, but ignoring their own needs. Because this is a very compromised situation, many people with this experience simply avoid committed relationships, but still go through life lonely and longing for something more.

The fact is that when two people, any two people, are stuck in a bubble together, they often become overly merged. They start to try to take care of each other’s needs and they lose their own sense of individuality. As a baby becomes its own person, their need is to develop their sense of individuality and separateness.

Having a third person in the mix who can really connect with the child, shows them another option and teaches the child that they do not have to keep mom happy in order to be happy. When mom is down, dad is there to provide another experience and vice a versa. This teaches them individuality and choice free from the pressure of having to take care of mom’s needs in order to get their own needs met.

Dad Frees the Child from Responsibility

Another key value of a father or a third is that the child gets to see the father and mother getting their needs met from each other. They are relieved to see that not only is there another source of goodness in their relationship with the father, but that the parents will get their needs met from one another, thus further preventing the child from feeling inappropriately responsible for the parents.

If you see a child that does not have an engaged third and thus it is just a parent and a child, it can be very hard for that child to trust that they do not have to take care of that parent. If the child grows up seeing their parents get taken care of by somebody else, it is liberating to their system, they trust that their parents are going to be okay and that they can take care of themselves. They learn that they can move in and out of connection with the mother, the father and themselves as they desire. Thus the child is free to develop and individuate in a very healthy way.

The Value of a King

As fairtales tell us, growing up in a world with a good king and queen allows us to feel safe. If we don’t mess it up, our children see us as kings and queens. They idealize us and believe we can protect them from all harm in the world. They trust that we are going to take care of them, that life is good and that they are free to play and grow up.

If we, as men, have mixed feelings about our position of authority and our position as a king within the family, it can be detrimental to the child. It used to be that men had a lot of authority in society. We were seen as kings. Fortunately, there has been a lot of valuable questioning of that patriarchical heirarchy. Unfortunately, it has left far too many men very hesitant about inhabiting their kingly aspects. But that is what our children need.

Obviously I am not talking about a dominating, authoritarian king, but just a king that feels comfortable in himself, comfortable in his own power and comfortable with his own sense of humility.

As the child grows, they will come to see that their parents have all types of weaknesses and flaws. A true king is comfortable with his fragility and imperfections, and is not trying to just be a narcissistic, tough king.

Once again, this does not have to be a man. It could be any third person who provides this ‘masculine’ authoritive role.

Joy in Challenge

It is often said within the field of psychology that we all have a desire to return to the womb, to return to that state of perfection. We see that in the fantasy of merging with the mother or merging with women. There is a hope that if we can get so close, all the complication will go away.

But the reality is that life is obviously tough and full of pain, loss and vulnerability. It is often through the identification with the father that he can teach the child that life has many difficulties and that we can face them with gusto. We show them that life is not

just about ease, comfort and being taken care of, it is also about having to hold ourselves, feel our own vulnerability, sit in our pain and find contentment within ourselves.

When It’s not Just Two Parents

There is a lot to be said about what to do when it is a single parent and the child. One of the most important things to do is for the parent to be aware if they are getting their emotional needs met from the child. Of course, being a parent is deeply emotionally satisfying, but if we do not have another person with whom we can truly connect and get intimacy, there is a way in which we turn our children into our little partners and that puts a lot of detrimental pressure on them.

It is important to really watch for this potential of using your kids in this way and make efforts to get deep adult connection. At the same time it’s valuable to bring a person regularly into your child’s life, so they have another adult with whom they can identify and with whom they can feel safe.

Obviously, it is a lot harder to do when there is not two parents in the family altogether, but it is possible for all of us to show that child that they do not need to take care of their parent.

To be clear, having two parents of the same sex rarely matters in these regards. One parent almost always inhabits the more queenly role and one the more kingly. Ideally parents of all orientations swap their roles and thus their children can experience their fathers being more feminine and their mothers more masculine.

Thank you for joining me for another episode of Full Frontal Fatherhood. I would love to hear your ideas about these thoughts. Please join the conversation below and I will see you next time for another episode of Full Frontal Fatherhood.

Courtesy: Julian Redwood / www.fullfrontalfatherhood.com &

                Dr Gail Gross / www.huffingtonpost.com

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