#I don’t want to edit this post anymore than I have accept this or nothing

[granitenotgranted]

I'm gonna need ur reaction and thoughts about the RaM finale once you've watched it

I only watched it yesterday so im not gonna have any hot and spicy new takes for yall but ya girl DID have some thoughts lets go (obviously spoiler warning)

thank you SO SO much for asking!! I’m honored that you want my takes<33

Listen I hate to say it but I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!! GOD!!! 😭😭😭

I just need to come out here and say this but first of all I dont think Rick replacing himself was really a bad thing,,,, like at all LMAO especially knowing that it was Rick who made him I mean it was more than just a replacement he was made to be the grandpa he wants for morty but he just knows he can’t be right now.

I can fully understand how it would absolutely feel like a betrayal to Morty but looking at it as a viewer I mean Rick was fully spiraling, to me his intentions were completely pure. Also I thik im just grateful they gave us a time stamp for when the swap was made so we didnt have to wonder forever how much of Rick this season was Rick. He still did piss master, he still kept Jerry blissfully ignorant just out of good will, he STILL WILLINGLY WENT TO THERAPY. All these wouldve been out the window if theyd overlooked that detail. 

Him recognizing that he was starting to go off the deep end again and not only removing himself but having his familys best interest in mind ( “Im no good to anyone until I resolve this” ) while doing so AND literally while mad at Morty is still INSANE character growth from where we started but this way is REALISTIC character growth. It was WEIRD how black and white the difference between literally yhe last two episodes and even just the rest of the season (which has famously been Rick in his peak good grandpa career) was. At some points it felt like I was reading fanfiction.

(Why do his knees look like that oh my god) Rick is fully capable of recognizing where he can be better, he always has been, he is not stupid *however* he is CLUTCHING onto the idea of being more logical than sentimental by the fucking neck rn. Men will literally build an anatomically flawless ai to be the perfectly calculated percentage nicer to their grandson and to be the man they wish they were before just going back to therapy.

Someone else mentioned this but ill also point out how much I appreciated just seeing Rick working? Like just in his space completely focused building shit with his brain and hands that hit the fucking spot. 9/10 times we only get the finished product and idk if its just me but I love when we SEE Rick living up to the Rick Sanchez tm reputation.

And Morty... my sweet summer child. It is not at all a shiny new take to say oh he’s so done with ricks shit we all know that but I really really want to point out something that I’m not really sure what point I’m trying to make with but have we noticed almost a switch morty flips when on adventures? He cried because Christmas was ruined like not even a full 6 hours before he was fully ready to kill a man while looking him in the eyes. Maybe the two were cause and effect idk bht I think that’s definitely something present in other episodes too this sorta “just get it done” attitude.

Also how much he sounded like rick this ep? That whole “don’t be too flattered he’s been actively trying to die” sounded EXACTLY like a Rick line I literally had to play it again. And the complete apathy for robo rick wanting to die until he ACTUALLY lunged himself into the void was also just textbook rick bullshit. Like grandfather like goddamn grandson.

The ending to me was a little disappointing tbh I think I was hoping for a more,,, structured? Cliffhanger? Like we dk what’s gonna happen in this storyline instead of the introduction to a new storyline yk? MAYBEEE I’m just salty we have to wait another year for more you can’t prove anything.

Rick being borderline manic ab RP at the end was my favorite it’s nice to see him just rant ab anything really and like not make some bullshit elaborate Halloween house to take his anger out but just legit vent ab what this guys been doing to him for the past fucking 40 years. I didn’t even notice the ep was over when the credits rolled in my mind we were only like 10 minutes in and I lost my MIND when mr poopy butthole pulled up again good to see he’s thriving (kinda)

On a final note when he called him Rick prime please let me know if I’m off but is that not an internet term for him? Like the fandom came up with it? Rick and morty writers are tumblerinas confirmed question mark?

And lastly: Neurotypical. Cooties.

#I don’t want to edit this post anymore than I have accept this or nothing #god I have so much to say ab robo rick too but this was getting too long #thank you for the ask!! <33 #rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #summer smith #jerry smith #rnm #talk to me guys!! what do we think!!

[wandaspetal]

Breaking Point

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: Breaking Point

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: Marvel/MCU

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬)/𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬): Wanda Maximoff x Reader

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: N/A

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 850

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Yelling, arguing, break up, toxic Wanda, toxic-ish Reader, Angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are done ripping yourself apart to keep you and Wanda together.

𝐀𝐍: Random angst while I finish editing all these multi-chapter fics I wanna post. I am an unfortunate perfectionist. I may continue this in the future or I may never touch it again. Let me know what y’all think <3

“I have no reason to sit here and believe that you want nothing to do with me!” Wanda exclaimed, her hands and arms extended at her sides. “You expect me to think you don’t care for me? That you-” She scoffs. “What? That you don’t love me?!”

You gave no response and simply gripped the strap of your duffle bag so tight that your knuckles lightened. She chuckled but it was void of humor. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and spoke after her outburst.

The living room of your once organized and aesthetically pleasing home was a mess. Couch cushions thrown around, the coffee table knocked over, a broken vase and the wilting flowers that once sat in them laid; abandoned on the ground to die. Just like your relationship.

“I don’t want to leave you—Then don’t— but I don’t want to burn myself to the ground to keep you warm.” You scowled. “It took me packing my shit for you to partially own up to the way you’ve been neglecting me these last few months.”

Screaming and throwing things didn’t work and clearly weren’t the solution; bargaining is all she has left. “Okay, but baby don’t go…I love you; you know that.” She took small steps towards you as if she were approaching a wounded animal on the side of the road. “We can work things out and come back stronger than before.”

Your eyes didn’t bother to push any tears to the surface the same way Wanda’s did. That’s when you knew it was time for you to leave, when you became numb to it all. Numb towards her jokes. Numb towards you being dragged around like a prize rather than a person. Numb to her canceling dates last minute only to see her posting her outings with her friends on social media the same day. Numb to her flirting with people when you were a few feet away. Numb to her love. All of it. You stopped caring and knew that would inevitably lead to you hurting each other. And that was the only thing you were certain you wanted to avoid. Dragging things along, longer than they needed to be.

You sighed then shook your head. “I don’t want to work on it anymore. I don’t want to work on anything, I’m tired of being everything to you when it’s convenient and me seeing you as everything and treating you as everything no matter how many times you’ve hurt me. And regardless of the number of times you’ve let me down—it’s like you’re going down a list and saying hmm ‘what else can I do that will cause them trust issues but ultimately won’t make me single again.’ Like you purposefully have been going out of your way to test my boundaries and push me to the point of complacency and you expect me to sit here and take it and believe you’ll change again? If I was enough for you, I wouldn’t need to be so docile for you to be with me and if you are enough for me, I wouldn’t be reaching my breaking point in such an exhausting manner. You’re not just disrespecting me but the love I have for you is making me disrespect myself. I love you Wanda Maximoff…but you don’t love me and I’m not waiting around for you to start when I love me more than I’ll ever love you.”

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She sobbed and covered her face with her hands as she finally accepted that she lost you. She ruined the one consistent person relationship she had in her life.

Your shoulders sagged as you turned away and walked out the door. Your mind and your heart battling as you begged yourself not to run and comfort her. It would be so easy to turn around and apologize and say that the two of you could work it out. The easy way is not always the right way. Natasha stood outside; leaning on the moving truck with a lit cigarette in her hand. She brought it up to her mouth a final time, inhaled then threw it on the ground and pressed her boot on it. She knows you don’t like cigarettes and didn’t want to make your mood worse from the smell.

“Sorry, I’ll leave the windows down for a bit.” She opened the passenger door then ran around to the drivers side and hopped in.

The truck roared to life, the two of you sat in silence as Natasha pulled out of the complex you and Wanda’s condo was in. Natasha spoke once she was a few miles away.

Without looking at you she asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

Your tears came rushing to the surface all at once. You released a shaky sigh, intertwined your arms and leaned your head on her shoulder. “Nope.” Your giggle was watery and filled with pain.

Natasha leaned down and kissed the top of your head then leaned her head on your own. “Okay.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #angst fic #toxic wanda maximoff #reader isn't toxic imo just standing up for themselves #natasha romanoff #Natasha is a good friend #wanda maximoff #I could continue this but I do feel the ending is good enough to leave it up without worrying about whether I'll ever update it again #idt I mentioned any pronouns #y'all seem to love my drabbles so I hope y'all enjoyed this one #marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #<333 #first stand alone wanda fic I've posted and its angst wow... #I hope everyone is doing well :)

[eideticmemory]

I’m the op of that Reddit thread that you and your little followers loved discussing. I just LOVED finding out from my friend that my thread was being discussed here. I loved it even more that details I shared in a PRIVATE message were posted and discussed publicly. Like wtaf? Although some details were changed or completely fabricated, like I couldn’t go to work? WHAT? 🤣 I guess this was my karma for posting such detailed things about Matthew? And for the record, this in fact DID happen and we’re still hooking up. Nice to know that someone I spoke to privately on Reddit was a mole for tumblr though 👏👍

oh. this is…okay. well, you did post these things to a public forum. a forum which a lot of tumblr users are also present on. ppl have always felt comfortable sending me blind items like this and we shoot the shit. it’s nothing serious. you will see that i never said i don’t believe you. matter of fact, i’m on your side! i read your thread when it was posted a YEAR ago and i shrugged it off because I BELIEVED YOU. you think i read that and said, “my 40 y/o raised mormon, unmarried celebrity crush with no children and severe attachment to his mother would NEVER do that”? NO! i’m a realist and i am a GIRL’S GIRL before i’m a fan. so when i hear a woman say a man did her wrong, i believe her. matthew being the man in question never made a difference. i want better for you. i want better for you than to be on reddit and tumblr, feeling the need to defend yourself for the simple use of this man’s name. i want you to keep it to yourself that you still fucked him after he ghosted you because holy fuck…it’s not a good look. i want you to live in your truth and do it genuinely. i understand wanting to shit talk a man (one of my favorite hobbies, honestly) and idc that you called him out. but THIS. THIS entire thing you’ve got going on is not a good look and i hate that for you. i am sorry that matthew hurt you in the past and that people have broken your trust by coming to tumblr, but none of those people are me. myself and my blog are not the place to heal your frustrations and i do not accept accountability for them. all i can ask for you is to please, please, please get off these forums and go! fuck! matthew! please! if i could, i would be doing it RIGHT NOW. we all would! and you apparently CAN! so why argue??? go! go!!!!!!!!! i won’t post about this anymore.

edit:

and take her with you! ✌️ just terrible vibes, we don’t do that here.

#answered

[otaku6337]

Posting Fic Is Like Graffitiing Your House

Okay stay with me here - but posting fics publicly for others to read is a lot like taking the art you might make inside your bedroom and graffitiing it on the outside of your house - it’s public, maybe you even post a few pictures on social media, but you don’t physically drag anyone except perhaps friends or family to look at it, and you get nothing from people other than, at best, kind words or a few social media likes for doing so. Maybe you live in an artsy neighbourhood, or you’ve done this before, and people choose of their own accord to come and have a look around.

Nobody has to look at it, and they certainly don’t have to say anything to you about it. They can just glance at it, and either not care or decide your particular art style/concept/content isn’t for them, and keep on walking. 

Or they can knock on your door, or comment on a post you might have made, and say “wow this looks so cool!” or “finding your art really brightened my day”. That’s lovely of them - unnecessary, but very much lovely.

People have no right, no right at all, to knock on your door and say “this is disgusting” or “why on earth did you draw this” or “you should’ve used red not yellow”.

After all, this is your house, and your art. Just because you made it publicly able to be seen, that doesn’t mean you gave over a single iota of ownership. You didn’t blackmail everyone walking down the street to look at it, and you didn’t ask for tickets from three doors down either way. It’s still yours, and you made it at no cost to those people walking past, so they have no right to criticise you for it. (And that includes, in my opinion, writing cruel or harsh things on a letter and posting it to you, which for this analogy is my equivalent to writing it on a public bookmark on AO3 - because it is attached to you, that letterbox/bookmark space, and maybe you don’t check your letterbox, or at least not regularly, but it’s still yours, just like your house and art are.)

I’ve seen people saying that once you post a fic online it isn’t entirely yours anymore. And to a degree I understand their sentiment, but I don’t agree with what they’re ultimately saying - you as an author still have complete ownership over that fic, and can do whatever you want with it, including deleting, editing, or rewriting it. You don’t have ownership over other people’s memories, impressions, or interpretations of it, but that still doesn’t magically give them ownership of your fic. 

Publicly available/viewable does not mean publicly owned. 

You don’t own everything you see - if you go to a friend’s house and sleep in their guest bed, you don’t suddenly own the bedframe or the sheets or the pillow, no matter how much you might have had the best night’s sleep of your life.

You can repaint your house. You can add more to the art on your house. You can maybe accept a kind request from an admirer of making art for them too. You can demolish your entire house, art included, with a hired crane and a cackling laugh or tears in your eyes.

Your house, and the art you have painted on it, are yours. Your fics, and the worlds you have created with them, are yours. Never let readers, well-intentioned or not, guilt trip you into thinking otherwise. It’s absolutely okay to consider the feelings of others in how you paint your house, but never do so at your own detriment. That isn’t what art, or even life, should be about.

#fic writing #fandom #fandom etiquette #writing #fandom manners #ao3 #ao3 etiquette #if you wrote it then it's yours #and nobody else #writing fics is like graffitiing your own house #it's yours - for you #and other people can appreciate it and share in the joy #but it isn't theirs to control #I mean this is obvs my opinion but still #I genuinely think I'm right about this

[bulle-d-bulliver]

Do You ?

[image description : a redrawn screenshot sitting with his arms opened, head thrown back and right leg up slightly. he’s sitting among blanket and pillows. the wall behind him is made of wood. there’s a warm yellow-orange light coming from the right and purple shadow. in the bottom middle is the title in caps ‘do you ?’ in a light yellow, outlined in black. the asexual pride flag colors the D. end id]

Edit, 29/10/2023 : I do not make banners like this anymore, nor can I edit the new ones on older posts due to the difference between the editor at the times and the current one since I use extensive alt descriptions. I will not remake posts for writing.

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences, SFW Fandom : One Piece Relationships : Smoker/Reader Tags : Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally constipated Smoker AND Reader, Asexual Smoker, Asexual Reader, Mention of past bad relationships (Smoker), Pirate Reader, Fluff, Mostly fluff, very soft

Summary : There was something missing. The warmth cuddled against his side that he didn't want to admit to need. Opening his eyes, Smoker looked at your form, sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, observing the sea. He couldn't see your face. He didn't need to, to know what was up.

 There was something missing. The warmth cuddled against his side that he didn't want to admit to need. Opening his eyes, Smoker looked at your form, sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, observing the sea. He couldn't see your face. He didn't need to, to know what was up.

 You hummed softly as he pushed himself up behind you, soon moving to be chest-to-back with you. A hand came to rest on your stomach, the other on your thigh. He nosed at the back of your head, leaving the softest kiss on your shoulder. Silent.

 He looked at the sea through the window. His thumb rubbed gently against your stomach. He was trying really hard to stay calm and soft. It's not that he was mad at you, never, not in those moments, he just      didn't know     how not to be a bag of grumps. That was just who he was. You knew that when you decided to woo him. You appreciated his thoughtfulness, nonetheless.

 Smoker grunted as he heard his name, in the faintest of whispers, squeezing you against him. You smiled. You liked his grumpiness. It made his charm.

 You bit back your question. You knew he struggled to be vulnerable, in his words, around you still. He was, after all, still trying to accept he liked you. Him, Smoker, falling for a pirate.

 Not like you actively went out of your way to hurt others. No. Not a lot of killing on your end, only in defense really, and even then rarely, you'd rather play tricks and fool people around than to resort to that. But still. A pirate you were. But for his poor principles to be challenged this way, it was making this whole relationship (although he didn't want to date, wasn't comfortable with the idea of it in general, just wanted to be with whoever it was he liked) a slow-building one. Really slow one. Baby snail on a baby turtle slow. It had taken him a while to stop being so tense at night. You were glad he was able to relax. He deserved that much.

 He grunted again. It sounded like a question. You hummed. "Nah. Nothing important. Don't worry about it."

 It was a slow-building relationship. You couldn't bring yourself to ask your question. Better keep it under wraps.

 A little frustrated sigh left him (not at you, okay a little at you, god you were      stubborn), and he left another kiss on your shoulder before moving. Smoker grabbed the pillows and blankets littering around the bed (He never used to have that many. When did he start actively keeping so many in case you'd pop up for a night in his arms ?) around you two, making it more comfortable. He grabbed you to get you to lay against his chest, still facing the window, looking out to the sea.

 Planting his face in your neck, he breathed in, hands keeping you caged against him. You were glad. You were scared you might have run away from the silent conversation.

 He left another kiss, on your jaw, your temp, the top of your head.

 His nervousness came out sounding like impatience.

 "You gon' ask or not ?", he groaned lowly. For someone who could be the most patient man in the world at times, he sure was worse than you in others. That was okay. You did get it.

 "I dunno what you're talking about."

 Well you never said you weren't frustrating. Or infuriating. Or incredibly, annoyingly, so fuckingly stubborn.

 This damn question had been in your eyes, in your voice, the way you hold yourself, for the past 3 weeks. Smoker was worried. A little scared too. Really scared. He knew that question. He had, for the longest time years ago, had it stuck on his tongue. Nowadays, it was easier. No one wanted him. He was busy, overworking, infuriatingly grumpy, never interested in sexual intimacy, always suggested his partner to seek what he couldn't give with other people (truly he just doesn't understand the big issue about being poly, but society was what it was).

 So yes, not many who were genuinely okay with what he did have to offer did stick around. Because there really weren't many who did. Most of the ones who said they were ended up leaving, having thought he wasn't serious when he said he was ace. Or that they could change his mind. Somehow.

 But you had shown yourself around. Playing tricks on his men. Nothing harming, never harming ("and what's the fun in a mean, harmful prank really ?" you always said). You stuck around, deciding that his city was your playground for your antics. Got him to chase you plenty of time. Always giving him troubles. Escaping from his grasp when he caught you, infuriating him. Or letting him catch you, only to break out of the cell to bug him while he was working. Sometimes he'd go to your cell when you didn't show yourself. Just because he wanted to make sure you hadn't left.

 You never did. Never without saying 'goodbye, have a good day !'

 Never without popping out of nowhere to give him a hug, maybe a little kiss on the cheek, and get him to scream and try to throw you down.

 Bugging him so much. Showing up when he was patrolling, walking not far from him, knowing he'd seen you even if he kept walking, acting like he hadn't. Leaving a warm cup of coffee on his desk when you noticed how hard he was rubbing his eyes. Stealing a discreet kiss from his lips in public, making him rage after you as his cheeks darkened ever-so-slightly.

 Never asked for more, never asked for much. Never tried to change him. Not even about him being a marine, so against pirates. Hell, if he tried to change his ways, he was pretty sure you'd get mad. Smoker knew you liked his sense of duty. He knew you got infatuated with him because you thought of him as trust-worthy. Of him as a good person.

 He was still chasing you. Arresting you sometimes, when you let him catch you. You started coming at night. Sometimes you'd leave while he slept. Sometimes, you'd wake up with cuffs on your wrists, connected to one of his own. He was still doing his job. He wasn't about to stop. You were hardly ever at sea. You were more of a criminal than a pirate. Still. He wasn't about to stop. You liked that, he knew. You liked him, he knew.

 He liked that. Everything. You. He liked y- that.

 He puffed a frustrated breath against your skin. "Stop playing dumb. You wanna ask something."

 You smiled. "Do I ?"

 God you were so fucking annoying.

 Smoker sighed, mumbling about you being a damn piece of work.

 A moment passed. And another. Soft touches exchanged. Stolen warmth and tickling lips in retaliation.

 You were looking out at the sea.

 Lighting struck, illuminating the room. You. Smoker was looking out at the sea. He could see your reflection. The question in your eyes. The one you were so scared of. And he knew, really. Because he'd had it stuck on his tongue so many times before. Because he knew you didn't want to push him past his boundaries. Because you knew, you knew you were a weakness to him. A little spot of trouble in his life. A flutter of messy hands in his, lips on his, running from and after him.

 And Smoker knew you'd been hurt, too. He could see his scars reflected in you, and your very own so different from his.

 He saw your question, on the glass, in your eyes. He looked outside to the sea, looking at you really.

 He kissed your neck. The faintest of whisper.

 "I do."

hope you liked it ! also for those who may not have gotten it : the question is “do you love me”

i know i write stuff very poetic wanna be, and maybe things don’t quite translate from my head to the paper, so i thought giving a little note would probably be better

#my writing #smoker x reader #asexual smoker #asexual reader #hurt/comfort #romance #gender neutral reader #fluff #cuddles #kisses

[inacatastrophicmind]

Not to sound like a J2 stan, but you are over-generalizing way too much (and misrepresenting information) in your "not just work buddies" post.

That boat trip? Was part of the YANA campaign, so work.

That black and white picture of them eating dinner? Taken during a con and all the other actors were there as well (you can even see Timothy Omundson in the picture). So again, work.

Those 10 year challenge pictures of them out eating dinner? Taken in Vancouver, where they worked. Most likely after work was done for the day.

...which is exactly what many work colleagues do. I've been out to eat with my colleagues after work dozens of times. Sometimes just two of us, sometimes even all 8 of us. I also have met all of my work colleagues' spouses/significant others (and the kids of 2 of them) and have been invited to and visisted 3 of them at their homes (1 of them has also been to my place once). I also have plenty of pictures and videos of them on my phone. And pretty much whatever else you mentioned.

But they're still just work friends and not comparable to my real friends.

And the SPN actors used to spend even more time working together than I do with my colleagues. It's not surprising or unusual at all that they would also spend a lot of time going out to eat or knowing each others' families if they're constantly stuck together like that.

And it's very telling that now that they're not filming/working together anymore, there's even less evidence (of any) of them hanging out with each other, except during con weekends (... work). And even then, from what we know, Jensen went out with only Jared (+ Clif) for some of these, with only Danneel and a friend from New Orleans for another one, and all of J2M together (plus Clif) for another two now. So Jensen and Misha do not even use the con weekends to spend time with each other alone. And the rest of the time they're usually pretty busy with work and their own families and geographically far apart, so no private hanging out there either (highly unlikely at least). Cockles is nice and all, but I prefer to stay realistic and there'a nothing wrong with them being work buddies.

Dude, they're friends, get over it. I have work friends and I don't go out with them at all. I don't go to their houses. I don't go and visit their families or their significant other. I don't bring my family to meet their families. I don't go out and have drinks with them.

Not even my most social friends do any of that stuff with their work friends, except for my best friend who has a really great friendship with one of his colleagues, and he considers her a friend not a "work buddy". He goes out with her and has even gone to her hometown to visit because she has become a friend to him. The rest of his colleagues are "work buddies", people he might hang out with for work purposes but that's all. They're in a complete different category that his friend who he met at work. And that's the case with Jensen and Misha.

Just fucking accept that they're friends. Real friends. It's not that hard. You don't do any of the stuff Misha and Jensen do with "work buddies". "Work buddies" are just people you like but don't want them to be in any part of your life outside work, and Jensen and Misha definitely love being part of each other's lives outside work.

Also, the boat trip wasn't for YANA, they met with their families to spend the weekend together. As for the diner thing where Tim is, yeah, they're dining with other cast members, and yet, they chose to sat together, which is something we all do when we're around a lot of people in a restaurant; you always sit next or in front the person from the group who is your best friend.

Edit: I also forgot to mention that they lived together for a while. Again, you don’t do that with “work buddies” unless your money’s tight and you don’t have any other option.

#anonymous #my answers

[antigonewinchester]

EDIT AS OF 8/17: I need to acknowledge a past meta here, “This is What You’re Gonna Become: season 9 as the culmination of Dean Winchester’s thematic roles of identity in SPN,” by swayingwires/deadendtracks as a major influence on my thinking for this post & my meta around the Mark generally. The author does thoughtful & deep work in using Scarry’s The Body in Pain & Harmon’s Trauma and Recovery to analyze Dean & his trauma, and was a major intro to these books for me. I should’ve been more explicit in crediting them and will be so in the future with this & others’s meta.

Intro post here.

My second post in my Mark of Cain meta. For my argument that the Mark is connected to Dean’s time in Hell, I wanted to first establish how season 4 sets up Dean and Hell. This one gets quite long, so a tl;dr of what’s below the cut: I look at how season 4 dealt with Dean’s time in Hell realistically, and then look at both Dean’s Hell arc and Sam’s demon blood arc through a symbolic lens, seeing the genre elements as metaphorical for how Dean and Sam responded to their dysfunctional childhoods. Not particularly covering new ground with Dean here but I do take an angle on Sam and demon blood that I think is pretty compelling & I haven’t seen much before.

In 4x10, “Heaven and Hell,” written by Eric Kripke, the first twist around Dean’s time in Hell is revealed: he wasn’t in Hell for 4 months but 40 years. Dean talks about how the constant torture ultimately broke him and made him accept Alastair’s offer to became a torturer:

DEAN It wasn't four months, you know. SAM What? DEAN It was four months up here, but down there... I don't know. Time's different. It was more like 40 years. SAM My God. DEAN They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. [A tear rolls down his cheek.] The-- the things that I did to them. SAM Dean… Dean, look, you held out for 30 years. That's longer than anyone would have. DEAN [Crying] How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.

Then at the end of 4x11, “Family Remains,” written by Jeremy Carver, we have the second twist: that Dean “enjoyed” being a torturer.

SAM You okay? DEAN You know, I felt for those sons of bitches back there. Lifelong torture turns you into something like that. SAM You were in hell, Dean. Look, maybe you did what you did there, but you're not them. They were barely human. DEAN Yeah, you're right. I wasn't like them. I was worse. They were animals, Sam, defending territory. Me? I did it for the sheer pleasure. SAM What? DEAN I enjoyed it, Sam. They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever.

My realistic read of 4x11 is that Dean is, at least partially, an unreliable narrator. Dean feels incredibly guilty for breaking and accepting Alastair’s offer, and his understanding of himself as “enjoying” torturing is part of that self-blame. Dean’s agency and autonomy was taken from him in Hell, first through the constant torture and then through the threat of the torture starting up again once he was freed from the rack and under Alastair’s control as his ‘apprentice’. Considering Dean’s sense of responsibility, the cognitive dissonance would’ve been immense: he based so much of his sense of self on being someone who helped and saved people regardless of the personal cost, so becoming a torturer in Hell because he couldn’t take the pain anymore, inflicting that hurt on others, was the exact opposite of his heroic identity. Dean resolved that dissonance by putting the responsibility on himself. If he was a person who would do good no matter the cost, who ‘chose’ to do evil instead, it must be because he enjoyed doing that evil.

Dean’s shame and self-loathing for breaking under torture and obeying Alastair also fits with how confession (in Dean’s case saying yes to Alastair’s offer, “confessing” to wanting to be a torturer) is thought of as a betrayal, even by those who might be sympathetic to torture victims. Elaine Scarry talks about this attitude in her book The Body in Pain:

“Intense pain is world-destroying. In compelling confession, the torturers compel the prisoner to record and objectify the fact that intense pain is world-destroying. It is for this reason that while the content of the prisoner’s answer is sometimes important to the regime, the form of the answer, the fact of of his answering, is always crucial. There is not only among torturers but even among people appalled by acts of torture and sympathetic to those hurt, a covert disdain for confession. This disdain is one of the many manifestations of how inaccessible the reality of physical pain is to anyone not immediately experiencing it. The nature of confession is falsified by an idiom built on the world “betrayal”: in confession, one betrays oneself and all those aspects of the world – friend, family, country, cause – that the self is made up of.” The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World, Elaine Scarry, pg 29

Through 30 years of continuous torture, Alastair and Hell ripped apart Dean’s entire world – his body, his self, his humanity – to make him do something that went against the core of who he was, with that act then breaking the first seal and beginning the road to the Apocalypse.

However, I very much think Kripke and the writers intended Dean’s time in Hell to be taken not just literally but also metaphorically. In fact, my preferred interpretation for both Sam and Dean’s darker turns in season 4 is to read them through Kripke’s guiding metaphor of “family is Hell”. Using genre elements, season 4 showed how Sam and Dean were each affected by their abusive upbringing.

To start with Sam, Azazel is his demonic father figure, an evil dad who fed him demon blood when he was just a baby. When Sam learns this secret in season 2, he sees this act as having cursed and tainted him. Sam fears he’ll inevitably turn evil while also hoping if he tries hard enough, he can resist his ‘destiny’.

A great example is Sam and Dean’s conversation in 4x04, “Metamorphosis”:

SAM The way you talk to me, the way you look at me like I'm a freak! SAM walks past DEAN, and then turns around to him, now completely pissed off. DEAN I do not. SAM You know, or even worse, like I'm an idiot! He walks up to DEAN, and almost gets in his face. SAM Like I don't know the difference between right and wrong! He steps back, turns his back to DEAN and walks a few steps. He then stops, hands on hips, back still to DEAN, who's watching him. When SAM finally turns around, DEAN looks down. SAM What? DEAN looks up at him again, and now he sounds a bit angry. DEAN Do you know the difference, Sam? I mean, you've been kind of strolling a dark road lately. SAM You have no idea what I'm going through. None. DEAN Then enlighten me! SAM I've got demon blood in me, Dean! This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak! And I'm just trying to take this- this curse... and make something good out of it. Because I have to.

Sam is projecting his own fears – that there’s something innately wrong with him, that he’s heading down a dark path – onto Dean in this conversation. Sam’s starting to feel shakier about his actions at this point, especially after Dean revealed Cas “told [him] to stop [Sam],” so Dean’s hesitations and mistrust seemingly confirm all of what Sam is afraid of. I read Sam’s reactions here, and especially his focus on the demon blood as something innately corrupting him, as metaphorical for how he internalized John’s emotional and physical neglect. As Dr. Judith Herman describes in “Trauma and Recovery”:

“When it is impossible to avoid the reality of the abuse, the child must construct some system of meaning that justifies it. Inevitably the child concludes that her innate badness is the cause. The child seizes upon this explanation early and clings to it tenaciously, for it enables her to preserve a sense of meaning, hope, and power. If she is bad, then her parents are good. If she is bad, then she can try to be good… The abused child’s sense of inner badness may be directly confirmed by parental scapegoating. Survivors frequently describe being blamed, not only for their parents’ violence or sexual misconduct, but also for numerous family misfortunes. Family legends may include stories of the harm a child caused by being born or the disgrace for which is appears to be destined.” Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror, Judith Harmon, M.D., pgs. 103 – 104

Unlike Dean, Sam didn’t know about the supernatural until he was almost 9, spending half his childhood in the dark about hunting. He would’ve had no context for why John would leave him and Dean alone for days at a time, or why they had to moved around so much, or why Dean got to spend more time with John than he did. John forcing Dean into hunting was horrible, but Sam as a child himself wouldn’t have understood that: he just would have seen Dean going off with their dad to do something important, getting praise and attention that Sam didn’t get. Is it any wonder that to cope with John not being there when Sam needed him to be, he would have put at some of the blame on himself instead of his dad? If it was Sam’s fault dad was leaving him, then that must meant there was something he could about it to get John to stop leaving. But when Sam did learn about the supernatural, it made him even more of an outsider: within normal society, he knew about the things that went bump in the night but wasn’t allowed to talk it, and within his family, he resisted hunting despite his dad thinking it was the most important thing, and in contrast to Dean going along with what John told him to do. Factor in the implication that Sam’s powers manifested subtly during his childhood, and all of it paints a picture of Sam as a kid who didn’t feel like he fit in anywhere, not with other people or with his family; one might say, a freak.

While Sam pushes back against John in season 1, he becomes much more sympathetic towards him after John’s death in season 2, with this season also being when Sam becomes increasingly afraid of “his destiny”.

From 2x11, “Playthings”:

SAM No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change! DEAN Change what? SAM My destiny, Dean! DEAN All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch. [He leans over and hauls SAM up by the shoulders.] Come on. SAM I need you to watch out for me. DEAN Yeah. I always do. SAM No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever … turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me.

From 2x13, “Houses of the Holy”:

SAM I don't know, Dean, I just, uh… [he sits on the bed] I wanted to believe… so badly, ah… It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And… there's so much evil out there in the world, Dean, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up…

Even before Sam knew about the demon blood, he worried about his powers, his being a ‘special child,’ and if his destiny meant he’d inevitably turn evil and do monstrous things. Once Sam learns about the demon blood, that becomes the explanation for his feelings of inner wrongness and insecurity, while also giving him a sliver of hope. Sam can’t remove the stain of what Azazel did to him, but he can try to do enough good that it would purify him, erase the demon’s blood’s corruption, and eventually stop him from still feeling like a freak. As he says to Jack, his monster foil in 04x04: “It doesn't matter what you are. It only matters what you do. It's your choice.”

Another aspect of Sam’s upbringing that’s deeply intertwined with his arc in season 4 is John’s decades long revenge quest, with Sam then taking after his father in his own drive for revenge. Both for Sam and John, this impulse is closely connected to traumatic losses: John lost Mary, Sam lost Jess and then Dean. Chasing revenge was a way for John and Sam to regain agency in the face of their traumas. However, the show often frames revenge as a dangerous force, one that hurts both the person driven to revenge and others around them. Sam becoming addicted to drinking human blood isn’t just showing how he’s been overtaken by his (literal and metaphorical) thirst for revenge, but also how he’s getting revenge and power at the cost of other people’s literal bodies and lives, just as John did (for instance, getting Jo’s father killed on a hunt; “Killing this demon comes first – before me, before everything” from 01x22, “Devil’s Trap”).

On Dean’s end, we have Alastair, a demonic father figure who tortures Dean and then takes him on as his apprentice to teach him torturing. Dean feels horribly guilty not only for saying yes to Alastair’s offer but also for “enjoying” being a torturer. This situation is metaphorical for John forcing and teaching Dean how to be a hunter, with Dean complying with what his father wanted and becoming a good, obedient solider. More from “Trauma and Recovery,”

“If avoidance fails, then children attempt to appease their abusers by demonstrations of automatic obedience. The arbitrary enforcement of rules, combined with the constant fear of death or serious harm, produces a paradoxical result. On the one hand, it convinces children of their utter helplessness and the futility of resistance. Many develop the belief that their abusers have absolute or supernatural powers, can read their thoughts, or can control their lives entirely. On the other hand, it motivates children to prove their loyalty and compliance. These children double and redouble their efforts to gain control of the situation in the way way that seems possible, by “trying to be good.” ...She must develop a sense of self in relation to others who are helpless, uncaring, or cruel. She must develop a capacity for bodily self-regulation in an environment in which her body is at the disposal of other’ needs, as well as a capacity for self-soothing in an environment without solace. She must develop the capacity for initiative in an environment which demands that she bring her will into complete conformity with that of her abuser.” Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror, Judith Harmon, M.D., pgs. 100 - 101

Dean’s time in Hell horribly echoes what Dean’s nightmare self – the thoughts and feelings he wouldn’t let himself express outside of his dream – said about him and his relationship to John in 03x10, “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”

DREAM DEAN You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog. … No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought? … I mean, think about it … [He begins to walk towards DEAN, whose smile is fading now.] All he ever did is train you, boss you around. … Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument.

In Hell, Dean saw himself becoming what he so feared: an instrument that was only good for hurting others, mindless and obedient, doing horrible things even though he knew what he was doing was wrong, his training in torturing by Alastair darkly echoing his training in hunting by John.

As I quoted in my intro section, Dean uses the same language of “enjoying” hunting to describe how John raised him, just as he talked about “enjoying” torturing in Hell. (Dean “enjoying” violence becomes a prominent thread thru the MoC arc later on.)

DEAN What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us… SAM Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could. DEAN I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

It wasn’t possible for Dean to escape hunting as a child. What was possible was making the dissonance of killing living creatures more bearable by agreeing with John’s dehumanization of them; Dean wasn’t killing people, he was killing monsters, so he didn’t have to feel guilty about it. He was saving people, hunting things, being a hero! Why wouldn’t he enjoy that? It was only safe for Dean to question that mentality after John’s death, both from Sam pushing back against the morality of killing monsters and because of John’s command that Dean had to save Sam from turning into a monster or kill him if he couldn’t. If Sam, his beloved little brother, could be a monster, then where was the clear line between monsters and people?

It also wasn’t possible for Dean to escape Hell. What was possible was escaping the horrible torture he was undergoing (even if the alternative was torture of a different kind) by accepting Alastair’s offer, and then making the dissonance of hurting others bearable by adopting Alastair’s sadistic attitude and enjoying the violence he was inflicting. If this was going to be his fate, becoming a demon and losing his humanity anyway, why not embrace it and make the remaining decades at least a little less painful?

The way Dean talks about his violence (“All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away.”) also has a quasi-revenge element to it. Unlike Sam, who could chase after Lilith, Dean couldn’t go after Alastair or the demons who had tortured him, but he could hurt others in their place, in a hollow, proxy revenge against the pain he’d faced for 30 years. This ‘revenge’  was encouraged by his proxy father figure in Alastair.

I don’t want to downplay Sam and Dean’s violent streaks, because they do both have them. However, I think it’s important to contextualize their violence thru their upbringing, both how they were taught how to be violent by John and then how they used violence as a way of regaining agency and autonomy in traumatic situations. That certainly doesn’t always make their violence right or justified, but it’s not a random lashing out or gleeful sadism, either. Take Dean talking about “enjoying” torturing in Hell in 04x11 with Sam “enjoying” when Lucifer killed the demons who had secretly manipulated him throughout his childhood in 05x22, “Swan Song”. Both of these reactions are Dean and Sam coping with terrible situations – Dean being trapped in Hell under Alastair’s control, Sam being controlled by Lucifer and then learning demons had also tried to control him during his childhood – and finding a horrific satisfaction in violence as a means of payback.

#meta #meta personal #sam #dean #dean & hell #dean & the mark #season 4 #honestly this one was fun even apart from the mark aspect because i love season 4 so much #and every time i look at it the deeper it gets! #cw child abuse #cw torture

[ghostalservice]

writing ask game, tagged by @gaypiratebrainrot! THANK YOUUUU i love being asked things!!!

Do you write in order?

eeeeeeeh, not really. I start at the beginning, then go until I lose steam. Then I skip to the end, write that, and then fill in the middle scenes in whatever order they come to me! I have a really hard time writing the middle if I don’t have an end to aim at.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try?

Like 95%? But that’s mostly because I am an incredibly impatient person who hates doing deep edits. And my older stuff needed a lot more work, but I’ve identified a lot of my common problems and I don’t make them anymore, so I don’t have to fix them!

How many drafts do you go through?

Lol drafts?? I write it, I send it to a beta, i literally accept all their suggestions, and I post it. So. Uh. Generously, I’ll say two???

Tell me about your process.

I tend to get sudden inspiration and pound things out quickly—train boys took me 3 days to write, for instance, because I was feral for the story, and want your tender charm took about 45 minutes. And then I wrote nothing for a week afterward each, I think. But I’m more of a settings ho than a story one: I like to settle into a world and flesh it out, and let it give me the story. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t!!

I also ADORE working with other writers—I think the squssyverse/WAS series is some of my strongest writing ever, because I had the absolutely brilliant @zombee scaffolding the plot and writing all the bits I didn’t want to (aka anything with plot that wasn’t 100% smut vibes is theirs).

And this is why I’m good at challenges like exchanges and prompt fests, because I work really well with rubrics and parameters (me??? autistic???? nooooooo......)

Tagging @zombee, @bomberqueen17, @orderoftalamasca, @outpastthemoat, @sassygwaine, and @darcylindbergh! Do it if you’re into it, I love to see people’s processes!!

#about the lis

[changbinslovelylegs]

GUIDELINES AND REQUEST RULES

Hiiiiiiiiiii

Welcome to my blog, I do hope you enjoy your time with me x

Here are a few things just to help you before following and or interacting

About me? I love chocolate, cuddles, sitcoms, k dramas, huge foodie, Hufflepuff, Cancer sign, love to bake, love to read ovby, love smut ovby ahaha, Harry Potter fan, vampire dairies fan, HIMYM fan, gossip girl fan!!!!

My ults?

Seonghwa/Wooyoung/Hongjoong for atz

Yoongi/Jimin/Taehyung for bts

Hyunjin/Minho/Chan for skz

Other groups I stan but don't write for: txt, mx, exo, svt, nct, shinee, the rose, got7, sf9

- My inbox is always open for a chat so please feel free to say hi

- Reblogs and feedback are heavily encouraged because it makes me happy and inspires me to keep writing

- Minors dni, my blog is for 18+ only, if I see any minors interacting they will be blocked

- Dni also if your: racist, homophobic, sexist, post about self harm or death (Also if I think your a bot please don't have a blank blog)

Please read before requesting!!!!!

- Groups I DO write for: Stray Kids, Ateez, and BTS

(I refuse to write for Woojin from skz so please don’t ask) (I used to write for nct and seventeen but I don't anymore so please don't ask)

What your reaction request should include: group of choice, and scenario!

What your drabble request should include: Idol/Idols of choice (no more than 2, and not from diff groups) if you want it to be angst/fluff/smut/a mix and a brief outline of the plot!

I accept for both dom idol and sub idol

I accept for both idol x reader (fem only please) and idol x idol

Accepting anons too 💙

Hard limits (what I won’t write ever) Rape play, gun play, little space, pet play, scat, roman showers, anything underage, all forms of "cest" or blood play in the form of cutting (in the form of vampire shit is ok) no roleplays (except doctor x patient is ok) also no horror (This can be edited at any point in time)

I don't mind species like vampire, werewolf, or animal hybrid, but please nothing else!

I am a human with human feelings so please be respectful and kind

I am a human with a life outside of this blog and as much as I love my blog I can not attend to it 24/7

Demanding updates on your request will just turn me off from writing it

- As long as you respect my wishes when requesting it will most likely be written but I do not have to! Please be patient as requests take time to write!

- Requests are currently closed

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#request rules #request #rules #stray kids #ateez #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #ateez smut #ateez fluff #stray kids request #ateez request #bts #bts smut #bts fluff

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Hi there, I hope you're doing good. I wanted to say I appreciate the way you just reached out and interacted with us, your followers. It's so cool and I'd also like to know you a little better as I like your writing style so much (planning on reading more this week.). Anyway, I'd like to know more about your writing process. Like how did you get into fanfics and all that? How do you go from an idea to the results you deliver? 😁

Hi love, 

it’s the last week of the summer break for me, the weather is lovely and nothing is keeping me from writing. So in short, things are pretty good right now, thank you. I hope you’re well yourself.

Also, thank you so much for reaching out and sending me this fantastic ask. I’m afraid the answer is rather lengthy, so I’m putting it under the cut.

All right, how did I get into fanfiction… Well, I think I may have been into fanfic for much longer than I realised, in any case a long time before I even knew such a thing existed. I think it all started when I was about 14 or 15. Me and my best friend at the time had a little journal we used to pass back and forth from week to week. We would write little stories about our celebrity crushes for the other to read. So basically, what we did was similar to an analogue version of tumblr, I guess. Sadly, my friend moved away after a while and even though we kept on writing long letters to each other, it just wasn’t possible to keep that journal any longer. 

After that I stopped writing altogether for a very long time and I didn’t come back to fanfiction until some time around 2017 or 18, I think. For reading only at first, but when the Russos killed off Tony Stark in Endgame, I just couldn’t accept that. So I came up with a very long and very badly written solution to fix that ending and give precious Tony what he deserved. (Sounds rather pretentious, doesn’t it?😂) 

From then on it was still quite a way to go before I finally found the courage to post my first story on here. I switched from writing in German to writing in English, which still is the greatest challenge for me now, to be honest. And in the end it was “Daughter of the Sea” that made me brave enough to share my writing. 

Now, how do I write… Inspiration can strike literally anywhere. It may come from a song, a poem, a scene in a movie, an interesting place I see or learn about that sparks an image or scenario in my mind. Most of the time, these ideas are just nice daydreams I play around with and develop into the rough outline of a story to entertain myself, but I know things are getting serious when I come up with the first dialogue. I love writing dialogue, I think it’s what I enjoy most. Usually the rough draft of the dialogue then expands over the next few days until a full scene begins to form around it. 

Music also plays an important part for me. I don’t think there is a single story I wrote that doesn’t come with its own soundtrack. So, I put together a playlist, which usually grows while piecing together the story, and listen to it on repeat (I have a rather lengthy commute to work, meaning I have the luxury of doing that for about two hours or more each day). 

When I’m still in the outlining phase, the process is rather chaotic. I jump from scene to scene, adding a few ideas or snippets of dialogue whenever they come to mind. But once I seriously get into writing, I like doing that chronologically. That might not be the most clever idea as it sometimes slows or stops my writing flow altogether when I get stuck on a single sentence or word, but I can’t seem to help it. 

Apart from that, it depends largely on my work load and social life how quickly I finish a story or chapter. And on my fickle muse and its capriciousness, of course. After finishing the first draft, I usually don’t edit the story too much anymore. That might be due to the fact that English is not my mother tongue and I am very careful with crafting my sentences and looking up words on the first pass already, so I mainly check for typos or language mistakes only before I release it into the world.

That’s basically it. I hope this all makes sense and answers your questions and that I didn’t bore you with too much unnecessary information (I tend to do that sometimes). 

Please feel free to send more asks or DMs anytime. I really enjoy talking to all of you. It’s what I came here for. 

#answered ask #writing #listen to me trying to sound like i actually know what i'm doing #🙈 #i feel like i don't most of the time #making it up as i go along

[raddishwrites]

First Sentences - Fic Author Tag Game

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

I’m tagging myself idgaf, nothing but the first is posted so no other links.

1. Moonlight and Roses: Even past the constant, painful din of the hospital, Connor recognizes the metronome of clacking down the hall.

I don’t mind it. I can’t remember why I wrote the first scene in present tense though.

2. I Like Dogs part two, TBD: When his new ‘partner’ came out of his house mercifully shortly, Gavin was staring, incredulous.

Lil sneak peek that may or may not change. ;3

3. Next time we’ll dance slow (working title): “Connor—” came a low hiss from behind, though it went ignored.

Eh it’s fine ig. Another teaser.

4. More Than One Emergency Exit: One minute Connor was scanning over the crowd, more comfortable feeling like a bodyguard than the fifth representative cast over a sea of his people.

This is worded a little awkwardly and it’ll likely change before I publish this oneshot.

5. Detroit’s Shitty Weather has Upsides, Too (working title): “I think he’s sort of like a cat,” Tina said as she and Gavin stood at a table in the break room, casually leaning on its surface and staring at the back of Nines’ head across the bullpen like teenagers in the food court at the mall.

I took this prompt and another one from someplace and smashed them together to do another oneshot I should do a final edit for and post :P

6. Why do Chihuahuas bite? : Nines was not one to waste words.

Hahaha amazing! This is for another oneshot that’s basically done I have posted nothing but I have a BACKLOG.

7. Revenge: [MISSION PARAMETERS: ISOLATE AND ELIMINATE DT. GAVIN REED] loading... loading... [MISSION PARAMETERS: ISOLATE AND ELIMINATE DT. GAVIN REED] accepted.

This is the longfic I was working on before ILD, I restarted this thing three times with different first chapters, I lost my mind. I have like 300k words of this story though in three structured parts. Almost entirely out of order. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

8. Replace: Strolling into CyberLife Tower like he owned the place (which hadn’t been even tangentially true for more than a decade now), Gavin Reed quickly caught sight of the small gathering of people across the vast lobby that was the open space of the ground floor.

This is the start of part two of that longfic, a scene I actually like. Yes this includes the halfbrothers headcanon.

9. Revenge (Connor POV, TBD): Connor was not one to be known as ‘unapologetic’ generally, but in this case it suited him fine.

So I did have a shorter parallel fic planned to run alongside Revenge. Same story but Revenge follows Nines and Gavin. This follows Connor, Hank, and Markus. I realise Connor as ‘apologetic’ could raise questions, especially since this is a post game fic. I maintain this opening line is actually totally based considering what comes after. (Heads up the third part ‘Reclaim’ doesn’t have an official first scene/chapter. Just rough drafted scenes and an outline. That’s why it’s not on here)

10. Hm well I could do an old fic I haven’t touched in years for a fandom I’m not in anymore and don’t want to be… or an NSFW fic drabble…

I’m doing neither you get nine that’s it.

Not tagging anyone else either, but please do if you write and you see this.

#fanfic #my writing #god rereading some stuff I’ve Improved oh my god #some of these are worth polishing and posting and some maybe should go in the bin #I started out writing a LOT more reed900 #but a lot of the earlier stuff is playing around with situations and ideas from fics I read and liked instead of my own ideas #I found one from 2020 I have ZERO recollection of writing and there’s just no context of wtf is happening and it Bad #like did I get really high and write it? did I copy it from somewhere to save it???? wtf even is this?????? #anyway if there’s anything I like better about Revenge than ILD it’s Sixty #he’s a little chaotic pansexual aromantic bastard but the thing is he’s also usually RIGHT ACTUALLY #whereas Sixty in ILD is… well #you’ll see #each has one OFC each and I love Mercy but I miss Moss

[watchmegetobsessed]

Baby Grammy - Harry Styles

a/n: yall have no idea how obsessed i am with this whole dadrry x grammy concept and i think it will take me a month to process everything but in the meanwhile, accept this painfully cute fluff which is kind of part 2 to Grammy Winning Husband, but it serves well as a stand alone fic too!

pairing: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Pregnant!Reader

warning: just a little mentioning of some slight smut, nothing heavy or detailed

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

“You know, this makes a nice table décor,” you smirk, stuffing some more oatmeal into your mouth as the two of you sit at the dining table in the morning, Harry’s Grammy sitting in the middle of it, the morning sun making it sparkle right in front of your eyes.

“Yeah, but might be a little too flashy to keep it here,” he huffs with a grin as he finishes his breakfast. His eyes scan over the award, he still haven’t fully processed that he has won his first ever Grammy. “It’ll be fine in the study.”

“Wherever you want to keep it,” you smile at him, reaching over you squeeze his hand gently.

This morning has been peaceful but filled with wholesome moments. Waking up Harry’s hand was glued to your belly as he spooned you from behind, a tiny foot pushing right against his palm, wishing him a good morning in the best way possible. He kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until you hummed and blinked your eyes open.

“Good morning, Mr. Grammy,” you teased him, puckering your lips for a sweet morning kiss.

“That makes you Mrs. Grammy,” he grinned and leaning down he captured your lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss as his hand wandered up to your swollen breast, his touch gentle, knowing well how sensitive you’ve been.

The kiss soon escalated, especially when his hand moved down between your legs and you moaned his name. He made sure you started the day satisfied and you wouldn’t have felt like a good wife if you didn’t returne the favor, using your hands to please him. When your belly started growing in the beginning of your pregnancy, you had quite a few concerns Harry wouldn’t find you attractive anymore, that seeing you grow so big would be a turn off, but he assured you it would never be the case.

“You have no idea how big of a turn on it is to know that it’s my baby in there,” he murmured when one evening you spoke your fears finally and he has proven it enough since then that those weren’t just empty words.

You had a quick shower together before making breakfast and now the two of you have a whole day of doing nothing ahead of you, just what you need.

“Still hungry?” Harry asks when you finish your breakfast, but you shake your head no leaning back in your chair.

“No, it was more than enough. Thank you,” you smile at him as he kisses your forehead, grabbing your plates to bring it over to the sink and quickly rinse them.

Sighing happily your eyes fall to the award on the table, smiling proudly at the thought that your husband finally got the recognition he always deserved. You take the little golden phonograph to take a closer look at it, setting it on top of your belly. It’s been a common thing since your belly has been the size of a watermelon, one time Harry came home to you eating Oreos off of it and he didn’t stop teasing you about it for days. But what can you say? You didn’t feel like having to wash a plate so you used what you had.

What you don’t realize is when Harry comes back from the kitchen and his heart flutters in his chest at the sight. The light is coming from behind you as you sit sideways to him, making you appear like a silhouette with your big belly and the award on top of it. Harry can’t stop himself from grabbing his phone and snapping a rather artsy photo of the moment, immediately setting it as his lockscreen.

Walking up to you he shows you the photo and you smile with a blush.

“Can I… Can I post this?” he asks shyly, sitting back next to you. His hand runs down your stomach as you place the award back to the table.

“Oh, you sure about that?” you ask. At the very beginning of your pregnancy he expressed how he wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. He felt like it’s something he would like to experience without worrying about the world watching every step of his and yours. So far, you’ve been quite successful in it, other than your closest friends and family, no one even suspects that the two of you are about to become parents in a few weeks. Posting the photo would be a major change in the plan, not that you are bothered by it. You would have been fine with whatever he wanted, making it public wouldn’t have bothered you that much, so it was really his call on the situation.

“Yeah. I have never felt happier in my life and I want to share it with the world,” he nods.

“It would be your first post since your win, I’m afraid it would take the shine away from your achievement,” you tell him. You’re happy he wants to share the news with his fans, but your bump would surely take a bigger chunk of the spotlight if he posted that exact photo and you’d hate to make it about you when the Grammy is such a huge thing, all about him.

“Baby,” he smiles softly. “My biggest achievement is this right here,” he softly tells, cupping your belly once again. “And I wouldn’t have won that if you weren’t by my side,” he adds, nodding towards the award. “I just want to show the world how proud I am of everything I have. If people focus on you instead of the award, I’m more than okay with that,” he chuckles sweetly and you can feel your eye tearing up already. “You deserve all the attention and love.”

“I hate that you can make me cry so easily,” you laugh through your tears as you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. “You can post the picture if you want. Do whatever makes you happy.”

Smiling gratefully, he kisses you a few more times before he unlocks his phone and goes to Instagram. You rest your head on his shoulder as he edits the photo just a little, adding more contrast so it really is just your frame showing in the sunlight with the Grammy on top of your massive bump. He hesitates a little before typing in a capture for the post.

“Might convince her to make his second name Grammy.”

You start laughing as he grins at his hilarious joke, posting the picture, letting the world in on the happy news you’ve learned quite a few months before.

“Though it might be epic, we are not naming him Grammy,” you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze.

“Why not? We didn’t choose a second name, might sound interesting.”

“Theodore Grammy Styles? Nah-ah, don’t even think about it,” you shake your head, reaching for your juice on the table.

“No?” he smirks teasingly. “Just think about it, our little Baby Grammy! Aw!”

“Harry, I swear to God I’m leaving if you call our son Grammy again,” you warn him, but he sees the playful shine in your eyes, you both know it’s just a joke.

“Alright, we are sticking to our original plan,” he nods. Leaning over he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek before your belly gets one too. “Can’t wait to meet you, buddy,” he hums with the cheesiest but most genuine smile on his face.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #husband!harry

[hyunjilicious]

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 2

A/n: I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t like how this part turned out, at all, but I rewrote it 3 times and I can’t even think about these scenes anymore without getting annoyed. I’m just happy it’s finished and that I can start working on part 3 (that is, if you like this one enough to want to keep reading lol)

Summary: After you post on onlyfans a video starring another man, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. (cameo: Steve Rogers) KINKY 4k

Warnings: spanking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mentions of smut and masturbation (male), humiliation/degradation kink, groping, mentions of porn and filming pornographic material, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry. (also tumblr crashed when I first tried to upload this so maybe that a sign this sucks)

You can read part 1 here!

-

The sight brought down a storm upon Henry's mind. He stood there, mouth agape, watching the screen, unable to believe his eyes. It was one thing to post videos of yourself on the Internet, but to have someone else take part in them was too much. At least for Henry. Still smart and composed, he realised there wasn't anything he could do about it, but nevertheless, he was determined to not let this shit slide for much longer. 

As much as he wanted to hunt down that man who dared put his hands on you, Henry gathered himself, took a deep breath and closed the onlyfans page. He was perfectly aware that just the right amount of you could get him to lose his sense of control and do things he'd later regret. Still, in desperate need to see you, he grabbed his phone, eyes scheming over your socials, only to see that the last time you had been active was 7 minutes ago. So, without much consideration, he started typing.

"You up?"

"Yep. Finishing up an essay. Coffee in 30??"

Oh, and how deeply that hurt him. "Of course" he sent you, and then checked again the post you made at 3am. '...I'll go to sleep right now, edit it for you when I wake up...'

You were lying? Why were you lying to him? It drove him insane. Henry felt like he couldn't sit down anymore, like he had no chance to catch his breath. He couldn't think straight, so he wasn't really to blame for what he did next. 

Henry's fingers flew over the keyboard, accessing Facebook and logging into your account, desperate to see whether he could find out who the man in your video was. And it was as easy as it could've been, considering your last 5 conversations were with the girl friends he already knew about. But somewhere among them, he spotted an unfamiliar name - Steve R., and instantly clicked and opened the conversation. His blood started to boil when the multitude of emojis you sent reached his eyes, but he scrolled up, until he found the beginning of yesterday's conversation. 

It was started by you, and with a request. You were blunt and went straight for it, asking him with just one message to be in the video with you. There was no trace of your relationship with him on the Internet, so Henry had no idea regarding the nature of yours and Steve's connection. Judging by the way you addressed him, he could easily assume the man was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Even though it angered him, Henry kept his calm and decided to go about this with care. It would only be a matter of time until he removed Steve from your life. But for now, he just had to keep digging for information. 

Steve R.: "Exactly what do you need me to do, baby? Spank you? In front of the camera? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Steve. Come on!! I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but still... 😇 when it comes to these things, you know me better than anyone"

Henry scoffed. Who the fuck was this guy?

Steve R.: "I know, baby"

Steve R.: "What's in it for me?"

Smoke came out of Henry's ears, and the fact that you acted so sweet and innocent made him want to smash his keyboard.

"Whatever you want! Just do this for me!!! Please!!!! 🥺😊😋"

Steve R.: "Ofc I'll do it, sweetheart. I got you"

"Thank you thank you thank you 😘"

Steve R.: "I should be the one to thank you"

Steve R.: "Send me the location and I'll be over there asap"

After that, your address followed and then that was it. Determined to dig deeper, Henry started to scroll up again, wanting to find out as much as he could about this mysterious man. He didn't get a chance to lurk too much before this computer alerted him of a notification, the onlyfans tab glowing orange. His attention was instantly won, smiling devilishly as he checked the content.

Posted 30 seconds ago, was the new video. Ready to kick back and enjoy, Henry pressed the play button, ready to go at it with an open mind. 

He reluctantly accepted the fact that there was another man in it with you, but he decided to enjoy it nevertheless. The video started, displaying Steve seated on the couch, thighs suggestively parted. He had a pair of black dress pants on, dangerously stretched over his massive thighs. A white, elegant shirt hugged his visibly sculpted torso, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of chest hair. Quite a sight, but all Henry saw was trash. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a silver watch on his wrist and a pinky ring on, Steve patted his thigh, cueing your entrance.

When Henry saw you, he felt his breath reach a new, sudden level of difficulty. With the shortest of skirts barely managing to cover your ass and a mostly see-through shirt on your top half, you made your way to him in such an angelic way that Henry couldn't believe his eyes. 

You looked like happiness personified, and it came in such a painful contraction to what you were about to do, that it twisted Henry's mind in such a perverse way, his cock nearly twitched just by seeing you. 

When you were about to bend over Steve's thigh, he grabbed your chin and stopped you mid action, his lips slamming against your as his free hand lewdly caressed your ass. He flung the skirt over your hips, your flimsy underwear on full display. 

Attentive to the events unfolding on the screen, Henry found his cock, teasingly rubbing it over the material of his pajama pants. His mouth watered when he felt the sensibility in his tip, actually believing this would be easier than he initially anticipated.

"Are you going to be Daddy's good little girl, or do I have to make this fucking hurt?" Steve asked and Henry almost threw up. 

"Yes, Daddy. I'll be good" you mewled, wiggling your feet. 

"Let's see" the man menacingly chuckled, releasing a sharp slap against your ass that made you yelp out in pain.

At this point, about 30 seconds in that was, Henry was already losing his mind. It was as if you took a trip inside his dreams and decided to play out his fantasies. The only problem was that you did it with another man. It was next to impossible for him to keep this going.

"Can you count?" Steve taunted, his hand traveling all over the back of your thighs, your exposed ass and between your legs. 

"Yes, Daddy" you eagerly nodded and Henry almost threw up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if a dumb slut like you didn't know how to" Steve chuckled, "But it's ok, that's how we like our girls. Dumb and pretty"

"Thank you, Daddy"

Henry couldn't believe his eyes. He refused to accept the fact that a random man got to play with your innocence like that. You were his sweet little girl. And if until now he pushed through heroically, when literal yelps of pain started erupting from your lips as the blonde man slapped your ass hard enough to rock your whole frame, Henry's blood ran cold.

But no matter how hard the jealousy had hit him, the video was still pushing his limits of self control. It was still what he always wanted to see. When he reached inside his pants and grabbed his cock, a low grunt of early satisfaction left his lips. He once again found himself picturing you, willing to please him, but this time, he didn't get to go too far. The buzzing sound of his doorbell rang through his apartment, and he never stood up faster.

Cock still hard and completely visible through his pants, Henry slapped the pause button and minimized the browser, before springing to his feet and rushing to the door.

"Henry!" you exclaimed as soon as he came into view. He looked somehow tired, but it was easy to tell there was something else bothering him. "You didn't answer your phone" you pouted.

"Yeah, sorry" he shook his head, a few sweaty curls falling against his forehead. "I was busy with something. What's up?"

You raised your eyebrows and pointed to the door of your apartment, "You said you'd come over? Coffee? Remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah" Henry cringed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be over in 10 minutes, that ok?"

"Sure" you beamed, completely oblivious to the way he just tried to get rid of you. With utter nonchalance, you pushed your way past him and strolled into the kitchen.

"You wanna wait here?" he muttered.

"Yeah... Is that a problem? I can leave..."

"No, no" Henry eventually sighed and rushed over to you. He cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. "Wait here, I'll be right back"

And that was what you did. You silently sat down, grabbing a bag of chips you found laying around, and settled to wait. And maybe, a few seconds passed where nothing devious came to mind, but as time ticket itself away, boredom got to you. First you stood up, and padded to the hallway, looking around. There was almost nothing new over there, but it still felt so homey you absolutely loved to inspect every detail. The TV in the living room was turned off, a couple of pizza boxes on the floor and his DVD cases laying around - absolutely nothing interesting.

You sighed and plopped down on his couch, folding your legs under your body, ready to flip through the channels on TV until he'd decide to join you. Nothing seemed of interest, being bombarded with news and fishing programs. "Old man" you thought to yourself, before opening up the menu in search for something less depressing. A wave of nostalgia hit you when you came across a Spiderman marathon, and you were done for. Maybe one full episode passed until Henry walked out of the bathroom, but you were nowhere near ready to leave.

"Look what's playing!" you beamed, pointing to the screen. Henry raised his eyebrows in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at your unusual choice of entertainment. 

"Are you serious? Cartoons?"

"Yes!" you scoffed, extending your arms and gesturing for him to join you. Although reluctant at first, Henry agreed to sit and watch the show with you, but not before brewing some coffee first.

When he returned from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in tow, you shuffled to the side and welcomed him on the couch. He brought you close against him, draping his arm around your body. With your head resting on his shoulder, you sipped your coffee, eyes glued to the TV. "You seriously never watched these as teen? You were 11 when it came out."

"I did" Henry laughed, rubbing his hand up and down your side, "I was in love with Felicia Hardy"

"MJ was so much better!" you shook your head disappointed, "You have no taste"

"No need for that" Henry threatened, his fingers exploring their way down your body. The way he trailed his hand across your hips and thighs made you squirm, smiling to yourself as you shuffled closer to him.

Henry was more than happy to reciprocate, kissing your forehead and squeezing you tighter. 

And just like that, you didn't care about Spiderman anymore. You flung your leg over Henry's lap, all but crawling on top of him. The episode was still playing in the background, but none of you was paying attention anymore. Henry wrapped his muscular arms around your frame, eliciting a soft moan from your lips as you pushed your hips down against his thigh. His hands traveled lower, exploring your body with delicate but greedy strokes. 

As you let yourself get carried away with absolutely no worry in mind, Henry knew exactly what he was doing. And considering how easily you let your guard down, he had you right where he wanted. 

When you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your nose rubbing across the slope of his collarbone, Henry's right hand found your ass. You froze for a second, but his gentle caress helped you relax again in an instant. With his lips against the top of your head, he allowed his fingers to sink into your flesh. Your whole frame stiffened as you gathered a handful of his hoodie into your fist.

"What's wrong?" Henry cooed, grabbing your chin, "You ok?"

"Yep" you whimpered, and then winced again as he squeezed your ass once more. "I'm good-" you lied, cupping the side of his neck into your palm as you crawled higher up his body, your lips right against his ear. 

As weak as he was for you, Henry stood his ground. If you wanted to play this game, he'd do it, but he wouldn't let you win.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, roughly groping your ass.

Jumping slightly from the pain, you still managed to shake your head, blurting out another lie. "... no"

"What about this?" Henry teased, grinning widely as he shoved his hands inside your leggings, under your panties. 

The urgency of his touch made your eyes open wide, your back arching as you tried to push yourself off of him.

"Does it hurt, darling?" he continued, keeping you in place with ease. 

Defeated, you sighed and lowered your gaze, "A bit" you mumbled.

"Just a bit?" 

"Henry-"

"Did he fuck you good?" 

Your mouth fell open. "What- no, I didn't- we didn't do anything-"

"Didn’t do anything?" Henry grinned, his perfect teeth showing as he proudly pried information out of you.

"I just... fuck-" 

Seeing no way out of this one, and eager to stop hiding, you pushed yourself back. Henry's hands left your body as you sat beside him, and he watched you curiously, patiently waiting for you to word your thoughts. "I just filmed a video for my page, that's all" you bowed your head.

"What kind of video?" Henry questioned.

His demeanour was so relaxed, he was right in his element, unlike you, who were riled up to the extreme. "A spanking video-" you cleared, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 

"Did he spank you good?" 

His hand found your hips again, and you leaned into his touch, nodding your head yes as you were too embarrassed to actually word your answer.

"Then show me" 

He was dominant and stern, and even if you wanted to, you felt like saying no wasn't an option. Henry didn't wait for your permission as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up to your knees, chuckling softly to himself when he saw you shyly smile down at him. 

His fingers curled around the waistband of your leggings, forcefully pulling them down your thighs. "Come on" he urged you, softly guiding you to lay down across his lap, your ass barely covered by the pinkish and slightly unflattering underwear you had chosen for the day.

Henry's breathing picked up at the sight, and so did yours. You watched him over your shoulder, his fingers tracing over the bruises Steve left on your bum the night before. 

"Henry-?" you whimpered, the anticipation building up in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear. 

"Yes, darling?" he cooed, leaning down to the side to kiss your cheek. His stumble tickled your skin and you whimpered when his hand made its way between your legs.

You felt his fingers against your opening and involuntarily clenched your thighs around him, hiding your face in the cushions of below your head.

"Tell me" Henry pushed, teasing your folds and clit over your underwear. 

"Nothing, I-" you cried, making him chuckle.

He loved giving you a taste of your own medicine. He straightened himself up and grabbed your ass into his hands, squeezing until you yelped out in pain. A soft laughter of approval escaped his throat as he bent down and pressed his lips to one of your cheeks, applying lingering kisses over each and every single bruise. 

The way he took control of the situation and handled your body, turned you on to no end. For whatever reason, being exposed like that for him, waiting for any kind of judgement to leave his lips, you were getting more and more riled up by the second. You were done for. You did your best not to moan with need, but little did you know that was exactly what kept you from being thrown onto the floor and fucked into oblivion. Just one single sign was all you needed in order to break his self control, but you didn’t have it in you to do it. 

But he didn’t say anything, instead just keeping you on your toes as he had his way. You were dripping through your underwear, and judging by the bulge in his pants that pushed up against your belly, you knew he was on the same page as you. But again, he didn’t allow things to go further. Everything about this moment pointed in the right direction - the teasing, the touching, you were all but whimpering in his lap, but he cut the moment short with a sharp slap against your ass before he helped you up. Henry acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he pulled your leggings back up, but this glare became colder when he found your eyes.

He bent down and spoke into your ear, "He could've done a better job"

Completely under his spell, you bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't think I would have been able to take any more"

"That's not what I said" Henry shook his head.

"Look at you being an expert" you teased, relishing in the fact that he seemed eager to keep things going. 

"All I'm saying is that if you had asked someone else-" Henry laughed, stroking your cheek, "Things would have turned out much more different"

"Oh" you pouted, ready to tease him further. "Who should I have asked-"

Just when you started getting comfortable and confident enough to push things further, Henry's phone rang. "I don't have to take that" he shook his head when he heard you stopped talking.

"Just see who it is" you giggled, slapping his shoulder.

Before doing so, Henry grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead, his touch drawing you in like a magnet as you leaned into him when he pulled away. With a sigh, you eventually crawled off his lap and then your face fell with disappointment when Henry showed you the screen of his phone. 

"Yeah?" he huffed after picking up, his boss being the last person he wished to talk to right now. 

You watched him closely as he listened to whatever the man was saying, and almost whined out loud when Henry frowned annoyed.

"I'll call you back in 5, ok?" he asked and after a couple of seconds hung up.

"I'm so sorry-" Henry sighed, turning to you, "I gotta go take this, there's a problem with one of the radars, I need to go see if I can fix it remotely"

"Sure thing" you shook your head. "But please tell me you don't have plans tonight"

"I don't" Henry leaned towards you and again, kissed your forehead. As much as you loved the sweet gesture, it was now more than ever that you craved something else entirely. 

"And please don't forget about me again" you giggled, grabbing his biceps and stopping him from leaving without a promise.

"I won't" he sighed, "I'm really sorry about that. I'll make it up to you"

"However I want?" you beamed and licked your lips.

"Absolutely" Henry smiled, sweetly embracing you before walking you to the door.

You had his word now, and you were planning on making it count. There was no way either you or Henry would act as if nothing had happened, and you couldn't wait.

Once alone and seated at his desk, Henry opened up the text editor associated with the code he wrote months ago. When his screen was flooded with errors and his chat popped up with three different messages asking for help from his colleagues, Henry all but yelled out loud in frustration. Not only did he wish to be with you, it was also Sunday, one of his days off. But he couldn't just text the pilot of the plane whose radar went berserk and tell him to wait. So he got to work, determined to get this done as soon as possible. 

But unfortunately, that 'as soon as possible' turned into 3 hours of continuous work. He didn't even stand up to go to the bathroom until he made sure everything was on point. It was about 4pm when the program started running smoothly again, and seeing how he had a few more hours to waste until he had to see you, Henry decided to make the best of them, by getting a head start on his tasks for the following day.

Productivity flowed through his fingertips as he solved the first issue he had been assigned for the day to come, getting ready to start working on the second one when a call caught his attention. He didn't recognize the ring tone, and it only dawned on him that he was still logged into your facebook account a couple of seconds after it stopped ringing. 

Still curious, Henry switched the tabs on his computer, noticing that the chat with Steve, which he left open hours ago, showed that there was an ongoing video call. His jaw fell. Henry tightened his hands into fists, fuming with anger. First as you for doing this, and then at himself for allowing you to believe this was an ok thing to do. He knew there was no way to eavesdrop on your conversation even if he had the password, but that didn't mean his curiosity died down. No, it only grew stronger.

He felt lost for a minute, but then he thought of something. On his dresser, right next to his winter gloves and under his favorite jogging hat, laid an extra set of keys. Henry remembered the day you gave them to him, saying something along the lines of 'I feel much safer knowing that if something were to happen, you could always get to me, Henry.' and then remembered how you stuffed them in his pocket, and kissed his chest before stepping back. Such different times. 

There was no trace of hesitation inside his mind as he grabbed the keys and made his way out of his home. He passed the hallway in less than a second and pressed his ear to the door. It was perfectly quiet, and through the peephole, he couldn't see any light. You weren't in the kitchen or living room, so he felt confident enough. After putting his phone on vibrate, Henry ever so gently pushed the key inside, turning it inside the lock with the most meticulous movement his wrist could muster. The sound of the door knob being turned was so faint he barely even heard it, but his pulse skyrocketed when he heard the click that signaled the door was finally open.

With small, careful steps, he made his way inside. The entire apartment was dark and quiet as he made his way in, stopping just outside your bedroom as the relaxed, deep voice of a stranger became audible through the wall. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just relax, I got you. You’re all tense, I can see it from here. You know I have more experience with this than you do, just do as I say”

With one hand on the doorknob of your bedroom, Henry was ready to put an end to this whole charade. He knew he might regret it later, but he didn't care. The image of a so called friend, pushing you to do anything that you seemed to have clearly stated your discomfort about, flipped a switch inside his brain. There was no stopping him because no one, no one got to push you around like that. Not while he could do anything about it.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fics #august walker x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #walter marshall x reader #ahh #a helping hand

[asterekmess]

Been seeing you getting hate mail and while I absolutely can't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble to make some one else feel bad... I also kinda really love the discourse on Scott? Like YOUR RANTS oh man. On point. Always. Tbh I tried giving Scott a chance... He is the main char after all... But I was like??? Wtf? That dude does nothing but refute others and does whatever he wants. And this was when I didn't particularly like Stiles either (first time watching Teen Wolf). But then I got to know more of him and like Tony he went asshole to lovable asshole—seriously, Stiles might not be the ‘nicest’ but he tries and his heart is in good place—while Scott is just... self-righteous. Someone pointed out that he sees people as possessions and that irks me too that I can actually see it being true. The dude has literally nothing going on except for being the one that gets bitten. And the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance he has.

Okay, okay, where was I going with this?? Right. LOVE YOUR RANTS. People need to understand that Scott not being liked isn't because of his race or anything trivial like it—he just happens to be—but because of his actions. Or inactions, as it were. *remembers the pool scene and Scott saying he's busy and resists the urge to chuck a shoe at him*

Basically, love you, love your work, and love your words! ❤️

I've talked with some friends about it, and our number one issue sort of...boiled down to the hypocrisy of the show? I....sort of rant a lot here, and I would add a Read More, but I can't find the option anymore?? I fucking hate Tumblr. EDIT: I found a post that told me how to do it!

So, since he's the character I focus on the most, let's talk about Stiles' morality. Because, you're right. Stiles is an asshole. He does some fucking awful shit in the first season, and even if he had a Reason to do it, it was still bad. And I still don't like it. But I understand it.

Stiles' lack of shits about what is 'lawful' is literally established in the first ten seconds of the show. He's a sheriff's son who sneaks onto people's roofs in the middle of the night bc they aren't answering his calls, who listens in on his dad's work conversations and is willing to fuck up a crime scene because he's so excited about getting to see a dead body. He doesn't care about laws. He doesn't even care about most basic manners (invasion of privacy much, with having Scott sniff Lydia to see if she liked him?). He's a dickhead, even to the people he cares about sometimes. But personality and morality aren't the same. Stiles' entire actual morality system is based around whatever he needs to do to keep the people he loves safe and happy. Lying to his dad so he doesn't get murdered by hunters? Totally fine. Telling Scott that it was "Jackson's own fault" that Scott attacked him with superstrength and dislocated his shoulder, so Scott doesn't feel like an asshole? That's just best friend duties! He will lie, steal, cheat, and he will kill to keep his loved ones safe (let's not forget this boy threw molotovs at Peter, knowing damn well what they would do to him). We can headcanon all we want about all the different people who are in this group of loved ones, but the list is canonically very short: Scott, his dad, and Lydia. Later on, like, past s3B? It includes Derek. Canonically. Stiles puts his life and the lives of others he cares about on the line while he lies to the matriarch of the Calavera hunter clan, to save Derek Hale. Derek is just canonically a part of that group now, and he fucking knows it bc Stiles is his anchor (that's canon too bb). End of Story, Sterek or no Sterek. It's why we get that insane number of lookbacks when Derek is dying before his evolution. Because Stiles is being forced to choose between two people who are BOTH in his ride-or-die group. He Cannot Pick between Scott and Derek, until Derek begs him to leave.

SO, yes, Stiles does fuckface things, and I don't always agree with what he does, but it is ACCURATE TO HIS CHARACTER. He is morally grey. He NEVER CLAIMS to be pure or good or just or righteous. Stiles knows who he is, and he stays true to himself. And I love him for that.

The same goes for a bunch of other characters! For Peter, who is strikingly similar to Stiles, in that family goes above literally everything. Screw the idea that he was following Derek around waiting for the chance to steal back the Alpha spark. That man put his life on the line (his second life, no less) to get the shit beaten out of him until Derek let him help save Derek's life Again and Again. Family Comes First.

Scott's morality is...confusing as fuck. I thought at first he was similar to Stiles, in that family came first, but...while he's protective of his mother, he also does a lot of stuff that puts her at risk without seeming to care/worry (like leaving Peter alone with her once Stiles hits their car, so he can chase Jackson) (or asking her to come to the high school when he's convinced there's a bomber in it)? Seriously, he's more protective over Allison, than his mother. It's very black and white the rest of the time. Very "this bad" "this good." And if you do "bad" then you are bad forever, while if you do "good" you are only good until you do "bad." The Betas were "good" until they asked for the bite, and then they were "Bad." Derek was "bad" when Scott met him and scared him, so after that, no matter how much "good" he did, he remained "bad." But only when it suits him. Allison is good even when she does bad, because he wants her to be good. Chris is good even though he's done mountains of bad, because of the minuscule amount of good that Scott has seen him do, because Scott wants him to be good. Even DEUCALION is good, despite the crazy CRAZY amount of bad he's done and despite having seen him do NO GOOD, just because Scott wants him to be good. Lying to those closest to you is bad, unless Scott is doing it, and then it's good, because he knows HE is good. Killing people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Letting villains go is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Biting people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Protecting family is good even if it requires killing or lying, unless it's not Scott doing it. Revenge for past slights is good, unless it's not SCOTT doing it. And you try to understand it! You try to say, okay, then he's morally grey, got it. He plays with the rules to suit his own morality, whatever. Except that Scott, the other characters, and THE SHOW ITSELF, are all telling you otherwise! They all say that Scott is morally pure. That he is good and righteous and lawful. That he always does the "right" thing, and that when he does "bad" things, it's justified and he had to. THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES say Scott is somehow better or more righteous than the other characters by MAKING HIM AN ALPHA OUT OF NOWHERE. (I'm talking abt canon here, not going into deaton conspiracy theories) It's like....Like in the hate mail response I did, where I pointed out that Every Single Thing people get angry at Derek for doing, Scott did too. Lying, killing (or at least attempting it), attacking innocents, losing his temper, keeping secrets, refusing to work with someone who could help, etc etc etc. Everything Derek has done that is morally "wrong," Scott has also done. And that's okay! Doing a bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, and even if it did, Scott is ALLOWED to be bad! GO FOR IT.

Except that he is sinless. It isn't that he learns from the bad things he does, it's that they aren't treated like bad things in the first place. Because Scott did it, and Scott always does the right thing.

Derek's behavior is reprehensible at times, but the show ADMITS that and frames it as bad. Frames it as him doing a bad thing when he scares Isaac or throws Peter or tells Erica who to date. And that's fine, because Derek is established as not being morally pure.

But SCOTT IS. And because they were so desperate to make him continue being "Pure" they didn't frame the things he did as wrong, or if they did, they absolved him of it immediately, using the exact same reasoning that works for Derek's situations, but this time Actually Accepting it.

He scares Stiles, well it's because he's scared. He throws Isaac, it's because he's upset. He attacks Jackson well it's because Jackson was being a dick. He orders Allison to date Matt, well he had a goal to accomplish. Every reason is treated like a fucking doctor's note that erases the bad things he does.

Being scared, or angry, or retaliating to someone being an asshole, or trying to protect himself, was NEVER a good enough reason for Derek to do ANYTHING "Bad." It was never an acceptable excuse.

IF IT WERE: If the show were making a statement about how fallable people are, how they do bad things, but they do them for a REASON. How people will do wild and terrible things out of fear, and how that doesn't make it less bad, but it makes it understandable, so don't demonize them out of nowhere. If that were the case, I would HAVE BEEN FINE WITH IT.

Scott is held to COMPLETELY different standards than everyone else in the show! And I DON'T mean that people held him to higher ones. They dropped that bar so fucking low. Anything was allowed, and any excuse was good enough.

He made out with a girl who was dating someone else, who his best friend was in love with? It's just the full moon, he's angsty about losing Allison. He ducttapes Liam to a bathtub and starts throwing random phrases at him that he hated Derek for saying to him? He's freaked out! He doesn't know what to do with a bitten wolf! It was an accident! He works with a mass murderer behind people's backs without telling them the whole story? Am I talking about Gerard or Deucalion? Who fucking knows. Either way, it's okay, because he was protecting his family. He plots to murder a cancer patient slowly and painfully by replacing meds that likely included painkillers with mountain ash, and the uses someone else's body to deliver the killing blow, and it's okay because he was just being smart! He was just working ten steps ahead! He was saving his mom and the whole town! Who cares if it DIDN"T WORK?

He walks into his ex-girlfriend's hotel room and scares the SHIT out of her while she's naked and alone in the shower? It was the wolfsbane. It doesn't matter that no one else's impulses included HARASSING someone. He lies to his girlfriend's face about her own life because he doesn't think it's important enough for her to know (who am I talking about, come on, take a guess, which one is it? Allison or Kira? Trick question: it's both). He was just being kind! He didn't want to worry her! He didn't want to make her feel bad! She didn't need to know!

I'm so far off track it's not even funny. My point was that Everything the other characters in the show are demonized for or framed as evil or bad or wrong for doing, Scott is shown to do and it's treated like at minimum a comedy, if not a Perfect Brilliant Strategic Move.

God, fucking hell. I mean, the PARALLELS you see in this show, between Scott and others. The scene of Alexander Argent going to the hotel after being bit? That bit where he pulls his shirt up in the mirror? It's a near PERFECT replica of Scott looking at his bite at Deaton's. They paralleled SCOTT MCCALL with AN ARGENT. Deaton has this whole line in S2 where he's bitching at Derek about "the person you should trust the most doesn't trust you at all" And then seasons later, we have Scott look his best friend in the eye and refuse to trust him, only to get upset later because Stiles doesn't want to work with him anymore and he "lost them." Scott goes running into Derek's house in S1 to accuse him of killing the bus driver, and when he can't get a real response, he EGGS HIM ON by accusing him of Murdering his SISTER, just to get Derek to react. Which is the EXACT same thing Kate did when she showed up and wanted Derek to lose his temper. Scott is CONSTANTLY paralleled with villains and assholes, and constantly does the things that others are persecuted for. But instead of feeling regret or learning something from it, instead of growing AT ALL. Those actions are treated as good. We are told they are righteous. And clever. That they are what heroes do. AND YES: There are parallels between Derek and Stiles' behaviors and villains/morally grey characters! Of course there are!

BUT THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRUE ALPHA MAIN CHARACTER. SCOTT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUY. HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MIMIC/EMULATE THE VILLAINS, AND HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REWARDED WHEN HE DOES IT ANYWAY.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I understand the urge to think that the Teen Wolf writers did all of this on purpose. That they built Scott up as an unreliable narrator, so that we're forced to come to terms with a protagonist who isn't good, and we watch them fall into a villainous role while thinking all the while they are a hero. That all these parallels are intentional and the writers just couldn't Tell us what was going on bc they didn't have enough power.

And sometimes I play into it. I will lie to myself about Scott being the 'narrator' of the entire show, and that we're seeing it all through his eyes so of course things are biased and conflicting, just so I can actually Enjoy watching it.

But I think it's absolute bullshit that this was done on purpose. It wasn't. The parallels appeared because they Wanted Scott to do the badass things that they had all the villains doing, throwing people and being sneaky and clever, and stopping the bad guy, and they didn't want to deal with the fact that they were having him do bad things. So they just pretended he wasn't and refused to acknowledge that they'd already punished other people for doing the same exact shit, but somehow Scott was getting rewarded. They wanted Scott to be the hero, so they made him the hero, and screw everybody else.

#personal #anti-Scott McCall #go for it #love mail #meta ramblings #rant #long post #WHERE IS THE READ MORE BUTTON HALP

[ladyartemesia]

The Secret

◐ PART IV of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 3600

Author’s Note: This update literally made me sob because I edited it and formatted it and it just disappeared when I posted. I seriously felt my heart drop because it took so long to format... ANYWAYS I wonder if anyone guessed the secret.

”You can’t do this, Luna ... Come back inside.”

Your hand tightened on the doorknob.

“I was just going out for some air-”

Jin shook his head, letting his lanky frame collapse onto the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. 

“And after the air... then what?”

Your terse silence was confirmation enough. 

He sighed heavily, hating himself a little for what he had to do. 

“You cannot go to him. They’ll smell you on his skin and it could cost him... dearly.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

“I just wanted to see him...,” you whispered. “I wanted to talk to him just once before-”

A sob bubbled up in your throat and your hand flew up to cover it. 

The dawn would come in two hours. 

And then Park Jimin would be gone. 

Jin’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and you fell against him hopelessly. 

“They’re going to make me watch, Jin-ah. I-I have to watch him-”

Bitter tears overtook you, wracking your body with the violence of your despair. 

“I know...,” he murmured softly into your hair, “I know.” 

“Do you think he’ll really show up?”

The chief elder glared fiercely at the young man who dared voice such a question. 

The entire pack had jammed themselves into the clearing where the challenge was taking place and despite the solemnity of the occasion, the atmosphere buzzed with barely contained speculation. 

“Park Jimin was chosen by the goddess herself to be her champion or to be the divine test of her champion. Have some respect,” he hissed. 

The young pup had the decency to look abashed, but the chief elder was already ignoring him in favor of the newest arrival... 

A Luna wore only three ceremonial colors at any given time. 

Green for celebration and harvest was worn in times of laughter and gaiety. 

Blue for mourning and peaceful resolve was worn in times of trial and hardship. 

Red for passion and vengeance was worn in times of war and signified the sacred bonds that wove the pack together. 

Your mother laid out a blue cloak as it was the color chosen by every Luna who had ever faced down a provocatione ritual.

But you arrived in sumptuous Red. 

It was a stunning act of defiance, a wordless declaration of your fury. You were here to obey the goddess, but in a crimson cloak you would not embrace this challenge with peaceful resolve. 

An attack upon your mate, even under these circumstances, was an attack upon you. 

You had come dressed for war. 

Jimin heard the gasps echo around his meditation cell.  

He and Namjoon arrived at the sacred circle a full hour before dawn and sequestered themselves in the small, free-standing hovels on opposing sides of the the site. 

The tiny pods were spaces for an individual to commune with the goddess and center themselves before engaging in the typically life-altering events that brought them there. 

Sometimes it was marriage or celebration, sometimes it was acceptance to one of the guilds or a promotion to a higher rank within your family’s clan...

Today it was life and death and the future of the pack that weighed upon the combatants’ shoulders. 

The sudden swell of movement and sound pulled Jimin from his meditative state. 

What happened? 

He got his answer soon after an elder came to escort him into the circle. 

It was you. 

Your hands and feet were bound to the ornately carved chair they had seated you in. This was a typical precaution because it was natural for a wolf to defend their mate if they were in danger and the restraints kept the Luna from doing so. 

The pain in your gaze was agonizing, but in red, flowing down from your shoulders with fiery obstinance, you were every inch the warrior queen. 

Yet it was not your rebellious cloak or even your incredible beauty that caused his heart to pound and stutter in glorious shock...

It was the familiar praesidium bracelet wrapped around your wrist; an intimate message of devotion that he and he alone would understand. 

Pride and possessiveness roared to life in Jimin’s chest. 

She’s mine.

“You look... surprisingly calm.”

Taehyung jerked guiltily. 

“What? Me? I don’t know anything - I mean I’m not calm - I’m frantic. I - I don’t even understand the question.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised right up into his hairline. 

“Taehyung-ah? Did you put those special mushrooms in your broth this morning? You’re acting a bit strange-”

“No,” Taehyung’s voice cracked. “This is me - this is totally normal me. I’m not - there were no mushrooms-” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “So - uh - how’s Yoonji?”

“Oh my go- really?!” 

The chief elder began to recite his speech, reminding the pack of the profound significance this moment carried...

But Yunli could barely hear his words over the ringing in her ears. Her gaze fixed on Namjoon from the moment the elder brought him forward... yet he had not glanced toward her once. 

He looked so strong and confident. 

So capable of victory. 

A faint whimper of abject sorrow worked its way passed her lips and Namjoon’s eyes flew to her instantly. 

As if he had always known exactly where she was. 

Longing split his features for a fraction of a second. 

Then his gaze shuttered again and Yunli’s wolf howled in silent, mournful agony. 

Anticipation bore down upon the assembly as the chief elder uttered the last few sentences with reluctant finality. 

The moment had come.  

Both alphas stepped into the circle. 

You began to tug frantically - futilely - against the bonds. Jin’s hand gripped yours as a tear slipped heedlessly down his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon whispered - to you - to Yunli - to Jimin -

To himself. 

Then his claws lengthened to a deadly point and he tore forward with a chilling snarl. 

Jimin remained unnaturally still, watching his rival barrel towards him with almost calculated intent. 

Namjoon’s arm drew back to land the first strike and- 

———◐———

Last Night...

———◐———

“Wait - WHAT?!”

“It was... me. I broke the table.”

Taehyung drew back slowly. His eyebrows furrowed in profound confusion. 

“With what? A jackhammer!?”

Jimin tilted his head in amusement. 

“Hammerfist strike... actually.” He shrugged. “I lost my temper.”

“You - You lost your-“ Tae began shaking his head rapidly. “Is it a spell of some sort?! Goddess you know better than to get tangled up with witches! You let them give you a band aid and then they show up ten years later asking for your firstborn!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. 

“Of course not! No... it’s...” he bit his lip. “You remember that time I came to your house a little too early and... Yoonji had you tied to a bed...”

Tae paled. 

“We agreed never to speak of that.”

“And I haven’t - spoken of it - especially since Yoongi still thinks his precious baby cousin is unaware of big bad boy wolves and if he found out you were corrupting her-”

“Wait. You think I was corrupting her?!“

“The point is... it’s a secret. And I know you have your reasons for keeping it that way so... I hope you’ll understand what I’m about to tell you...”

———◐———

Fourteen Years Ago...

———◐———

Jimin’s hands fidgeted nervously over the flyer that the human boy offered him. 

“But I’m only in Seoul for the summer.”

Just long enough to miss Alpha Camp entirely. 

“That’s perfect because it’s only a summer program. Seriously, you were so fast catching that jar I knocked over. Your reflexes are amazing and it looks like you’ve got the perfect build for it too.” He tapped the flyer for emphasis. “Think about it.”

No one had ever told Park Jimin that he would be good at anything like this. In fact most people told him he needed to be better...

Bigger. 

Stronger. 

His eyes traveled over the large letters printed at the top of the brochure. 

“Taekwondo...”

——◐——

“...so thank you all again for signing up and attending the orientation. I will see you tomorrow for our first class.”

A strange sense of anticipation hummed through Jimin as he gathered his coat. He was finally doing something for himself; something that had nothing to do with being an alpha-

“You’re a wolf, aren’t you...”

The young instructor who gave the initial demonstration and spoke for most of the orientation stood behind him with his arms crossed.

Jimin’s eyes widened in shock. 

“How did you know?”

The stranger tapped his nose. 

“My grandfather had a human mate and his pack exiled him for it. I’m mostly human, but this nose can pick up another wolf’s scent just as well as yours.”

Modern packs didn’t exile wolves with human mates anymore, but fifty years ago the practice was still unfortunately common. 

“I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

The young man smiled. 

“He lived a long happy life with his mate and his family. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He stretched out his hand. “Lee Taemin.”

“Park Jimin.”

They shook firmly, and Taemin continued to examine him with unconcealed interest. 

“Tell me, Park Jimin, what’s an alpha wolf doing all the way out in Seoul? The only pack around here married their last child into one of the mountain nations years ago.”

“That was my mother, actually... I’m here visiting my grandmother.”

Taemin tilted his head curiously. 

“I’ve never known wolves to be interested in human martial arts. You lot prefer to fight shifted... In fact, I doubt a mountain wolf could even throw a punch,” he snorted, “not that they’d need to with those fangs.”

Jimin’s shoulders fell a little. 

“So... you don’t think I’ll be good at it.”

“On the contrary, I think you could be incredible.”

The young wolf’s face brightened immediately. 

“Really?! Even if I’m not as strong as other wolves?”

“Taekwondo isn’t about strength. It’s about speed. Master the speed and the strength will follow.”

———◐———

“Relax your body. Focus your energy.”

Jimin drew in a deep breath as he moved  through the pattern Taemin taught him. 

“The power and speed of your wolf is constant, but most wolves do not bother channeling it in human form. Concentrate on your wolf and bring that power into your strike.” 

His hand came down on the thin press wood and-

It hurt. A lot. 

Taemin chuckled as Jimin cussed and swore, cradling his tender fist grouchily. 

“You’ll get it. Just keep practicing.”

“Are you sure I’ll be able to break the boards one day?”

The boy’s face was so round and adorably hopeful. Taemin nodded confidently and offered him some ice. 

“A human with training can break boards, but a wolf who harnessed his natural speed and strength could break much more than that.” 

———◐———

Twelve Years Ago...

———◐———

“You’ve improved a great deal since last summer. Were you finally able to find a teacher near your pack?”

“Yes - but... she’s not as good as you.”

Finding a local Taekwondo teacher had been the easy part. 

Constantly making up excuses to explain his habitual disappearances... 

That was trickier. 

His mother thought he was hunting with Taehyung, Taehyung thought he was sniffing around some human girl and needed a buddy to cover his tracks. 

Sneaking away to practice wasn’t too difficult, but he panicked when Yoongi caught him moving through forms in the woods once and pretended to be doing an interpretive dance. 

With no music.

Yoongi had looked at him a little funny since then. 

Taemin grinned. “Of course she’s not as good as me. I’m the best. Now take position and let’s see if you can finally land this kick.”

———◐———

Ten Years Ago...

———◐———

Jimin glared at the thick oak board Taemin sent him home with this year. 

“It’s a 4x6 solid oak plank. I want you to break it before the winter solstice.”

He snorted, positioning the board between the makeshift vices he fashioned to hold it in place. 

“Sure, I’ll just get right on that.”

“...Who are you talking to?”

Jimin groaned internally.

Of course. 

“Hey guys,” he turned to greet Jungkook and Hoseok brightly (while completely ignoring the question). “Where - where are you two headed today?”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with excitement. 

“One of the elders is going to teach us how to build traps! He invited all the unmated alphas to go with him past the boundary lines to test whatever we make!”

A familiar embarrassment settled heavily in Jimin stomach. 

“Oh... I uh... I didn’t hear that.”

“I’m sure it was just a mistake that they didn’t call for you,” Hoseok rushed to reassure him. “You could come with us. I don’t think the elder would mind.”

The older boy’s gaze was filled with discomfort... and pity. 

Jimin cleared his throat and forced up a sunny smile. 

“No that’s fine - I have work to do anyways so...”

Jungkook nodded quickly, desperate to escape the unexpectedly awkward conversation. 

“Have fun!” he shouted, already beginning to jog away. 

Jimin watched quietly as their figures grew smaller, waiting till their clumsy steps no longer disturbed the stillness around him. 

He should be used to it by now... 

The passive rejection. 

It shouldn’t bother him anymore. There was no malicious intent... just casual dismissal again and again and again-

An angry roar tore past his lips as he brought his hand down on the board. 

It cracked in half. 

———◐———

Eight Years Ago...

———◐———

“It’s strange but - I feel like the better I become at this, the stronger my wolf is.”

“That isn’t strange at all. You and your wolf are two halves of a whole. The more you balance your energy, the more your strengths can be shared. Now - stop stalling and get to it.”

Jimin eyed Taemin’s latest idea with a reluctant groan.

“None of the other students have to break cinder block.”

“None of the other students are wolves. Besides, it’s been 6 years, you’ve broken stacks of boards. It’s time for a real challenge.”

“I’m lucky I haven’t broken a bone,” Jimin mumbled irritably. 

He did that day, but it was healed in a week and he broke his first cinderblock a month later.

———◐———

Five Years Ago...

———◐———

“Remember, timing is everything. Never let your opponent see what you’re going to do.”

“How many times do you think I’ve heard that over the last ten years?”

“Not enough, clearly. You’re still telegraphing with that right foot.”

Jimin’s left hand shot out and connected with Taemin’s jaw.

“Am I?”

Taemin blinked up at him from the floor. 

“Ok. I admit. That was pretty impressive.”

———◐———

Three Years Ago...

———◐———

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I was looking for Jin.”

Jimin scrambled to his feet, dumping the pile of pebbles he collected (for his mother’s garden) noisily to the ground.

“Luna...”

He took a discreet step backward as your gaze scanned the area in frustration. 

“You haven’t seen my cousin, have you?”

Jimin gulped. 

He had seen Kim Seokjin - leading a curvy beta girl (nose first no doubt) in the direction of the old wading pool. It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to laugh out loud each time Jin bashfully declared that he was a ‘good boy’ and to ‘be gentle with him,’ - after all, he’d given the same speech to two other she-wolves last week. 

Best not to scar her for life. Some things cannot be unseen.

His mind darted briefly to the scene he’d walked into at Taehyung’s house yesterday.

“I have no idea where Seokjin is, Luna.”

You sighed, gnawing absently at your lip while you considered his words, and Jimin felt a familiar hint of futile longing whisper through him. 

He’d never been so close to you, and now that he was, his wolf was making all sorts of insane suggestions to keep you near. 

Do a backflip. Climb a tree. Build her a house. 

Jimin bent quickly to gather his scattered stones, ashamed at the direction of his thoughts. 

You were so incredibly beautiful...

It was almost enough to make him forget that he would only ever be Park Jimin.  

He couldn’t blame the others for fighting and fawning over your attention like they did. You were the moon and every man around you was drawn in like the tide. 

“Today is my seventeenth birthday, you know.”

Jimin looked up to discover that you had moved much closer and were now looking down at him expectantly. 

He blinked. Twice. 

“I - yes. I did know.”

The entire pack was celebrating. He’d have to be comatose not to know.

“Should I save you a dance, Park Jimin?”

Up until that exact second, Jimin would have bet his life savings that you did not know his name. 

Yet here you were - so very close to him - gazing down into his eyes almost shyly.

He nodded because he couldn’t think of a single reason not to give you anything you wanted. And when you smiled so brilliantly -  he almost believed that you truly wanted to dance with him...

Almost. 

He never went to your party. 

He never danced with you.

Not that day. Not ever.

Because deep down he suspected that if he held you in his arms - even once - he would never truly let go. 

He was sure you wouldn’t notice his absence...  You wouldn’t remember talking to him by the time the evening rolled around. 

He never saw you search the crowds for his face right up until the midnight bell. 

He never saw you turn down dance after dance hoping that the beautiful boy from the forest would finally come and take your hand. 

He was your only wish that birthday. 

But he never knew. 

———◐———

One Year Ago...

———◐———

“I’ve never seen anything like your skill. You’ve long since surpassed me. I’m not sure what more I can teach you,” Taemin smiled, bumping Jimin on the shoulder, “Perhaps you should find a woman and spend a little less time practicing.”

An unwelcome flash of silver eyes and a laugh like sunshine danced through his mind. 

“No. I’m... not really the type wolf girls go for.” 

Taemin snorted. 

“I don’t believe that. Aren’t you an alpha?”

“Yes, but it’s... complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?”

Jimin laughed. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Silence settled comfortably between them as they nursed several bottles of soju on his grandmother’s porch. Taemin had charmed the old hellion quite thoroughly and he would often drop by for a visit even when Jimin was back home with his pack.

“So what will you do now?” he asked. “You can’t compete. I can barely withstand sparring with you, and you’d kill a human - even if you landed a blow at half strength.”

Jimin ran his fingers absently through his hair while he pondered his mentor’s words. 

“I learned to fight because I was searching for something that would help me sort out who I was.” He scoffed. “I don’t know that I’m any closer to that goal.”

Taemin shook his head. 

“No. I think you’ve got it all wrong, Park Jimin. No one achieves what you have without knowing who they are. You’ve always been a fighter and some part of you realizes that.” He sighed heavily and finished off the rest of his drink. “Now I think you’re just... waiting.”

“For what?” Jimin chuckled playfully. 

Taemin pulled out another bottle and met his gaze with a knowing grin. 

“Something worth fighting for.”

———◐———

Now...

———◐———

Jimin remained unnaturally still, watching his rival barrel towards him with almost calculated intent. 

Namjoon’s arm drew back to land the first strike and- 

It was fast. 

So fast it almost seemed like magic. 

One moment the Kim alpha was the barest breath away from a swift and decisive victory-

Then he was crashing backwards onto the dirt. 

Those who watched carefully saw Park Jimin spin into a vicious kick, one that connected solidly with the middle of his opponent’s chest. 

Stunned silence pressed in from every side as Namjoon scrambled back to his feet, his expression wavering wildly between excruciating pain and monumental shock. 

Jimin smiled, letting his razor sharp canines lengthen menacingly as he flowed back into a perfect combat stance. 

“You didn’t think I’d just let you have her, did you?”

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[seriouslysnape]

Home for the Holidays

__

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader

Warnings: None.

(Edit - A/N: Now why tf did I post this in February...)

Word Count: 1,840

“I’m just a Hufflepuff.”

__

“Draco, I’ve got to go to class!” You shrieked through giggles as the blonde headed boy peppered your neck with kisses.

“Just five more minutes.” He protested, continuing to attack you with tickles and kisses.

Another round of laughter bubbled out of your chest, a sound that made his heart flutter. Draco had a knee placed on either side of your hips, keeping you secured down to his mattress. 

“You said that last time and I missed the entire class. I’ve got to go.” You persisted with another giggle, trying to wiggle out of his hold, but to no avail.

“Are you saying that you would rather spend your Friday in class rather than with me?” He questioned, knowing you’d prefer to stay in bed all day.

“Well, I’d clearly love to stay here all day, but I have an Herbology exam that I can’t miss,” You announced, your chuckles dying off as Draco stopped tickling you; “Professor Sprout is already on to me for missing class last time.”

“As if Professor Sprout would actually punish one of her Hufflepuffs.” Draco sneered down at you.

“You’re just upset because she doesn’t hesitate to take House points away when it's you.” You fired back. 

Draco looked off out the window with a laugh, because you definitely weren’t wrong. While he was distracted, you got out from under him and pinned him down on his bed. He fell back onto his pillows with a surprised grunt, smirking as you straddled his hips. He grinned up at you.

“I quite like this view...” He purred, his hands trailing up your waist.

You playfully smacked his shoulder, rolling off of him and his bed. He watched as you threw on your robes and grabbed your books. Draco had Potions first, but he never really cared about being late. You were scuttling around the room so quickly that you didn’t even catch Draco’s sudden shift in demeanor. He sat up, leaning on his elbows.

“[Y/N], we need to talk about Christmas break.” Draco said, causing you to completely freeze. 

You gave him a look, really wishing he hadn’t brought it up. You sighed heavily.

“Not this again.” You warned.

He got off of the bed, following you as you continued to gather all of your stuff. 

“I want you to come spend Christmas break with me and my family.” He stated as you had previously talked about before.

“I already told you no.” You argued, shoving your quill into your bag. 

Draco had mentioned in passing a few days ago that he was making arrangements for you to spend Christmas break with him at the Malfoy Manor. He thought you would be on board with it, which was why he didn’t bother asking you first. Christmas break was only three or four days away, and time was of the essence. He was surprised, though, when you had such a negative reaction to the idea. 

“I don’t want you to spend Christmas alone here.” Draco admitted.

It was true, you had spent all five of your Christmases at Hogwarts. Your family situation was...complicated. Needless to say, you’d much rather stay at school during the break. If only you could stay during the summer too.

You had multiple reasons for being weary of spending Christmas with the Malfoy family. You’d love nothing more than to spend Christmas cuddled up with Draco by a cozy fire, but it was his parents that you were more afraid of. You had never formally met either of them, but had heard stories that made you shudder in intimidation. 

Lucius was a powerful man. Draco was a spitting image of him, and acted like him at times as well. Lucius Malfoy was known for being refined, formal, and serious at every possible moment. He absolutely terrified you inside and out.

Of the two, Narcissa was the one you were less afraid of. According to Draco and other sources, she wasn’t always an unpleasant human being. However, she was proud to have married into the Malfoy name. She took pride in her wealth, and her pureblood family. She believed in having pristine manners, and being your best all the time. She sounded like a crazy possible future mother-in-law.

Fortunately, you had the fact that you were a pureblood on your side. Realistically, Draco never ever would’ve even given you a second thought if you hadn’t been. You knew that his family would be pleased with your blood status, but that fact that you were a Hufflepuff was concerning.

They were all proud Slytherins. They donated impressive brooms to Slytherin’s Quidditch team every year, and money to wherever else they felt it was necessary. You were petrified of what they would say to their Slytherin son dating a Hufflepuff girl. 

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to meet my parents? We’ve been together since last January, almost a full bloody year!” He screeched, the tips of his ears turning red with frustration.

“I know that, D. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just-” You stopped off, almost letting it slip.

But Draco was observant. He caught your quick pause, seeing the way you stopped short because you were afraid to tell him something. That was one thing Draco never ever wanted. He never wanted you to be fearful to tell him something, but he was still irritated.

“You’re being selfish. I just want you to have a nice holiday and you won’t even accept it.” He snarled.

You didn’t want to tell him. You were more afraid of what he would say about how his parents would react to you being a Hufflepuff. Him acting this way wasn’t helping. You slung your bag over your shoulder, ducking out of his room before he could stop you.

“I have to go.” You said, rushing out of the Slytherin tower.

Draco went to chase after you, but decided to let you go. He’d get to the bottom of this. One way or another. He knew if you didn’t come home with him for Christmas, then you’d be stuck at school by yourself, because all of your friends would be home. He hated the thought of you spending Christmas alone. If you wouldn’t come with him, then he was going to stay with you. However, he still wanted to know why you were so apprehensive about meeting his parents.

You couldn’t focus on Herbology for the life of you. You kept thinking about how disappointed Draco looked when you told him no. You didn’t want to ever hurt his feelings, but the thought of spending two weeks with his parents was far too frightening. 

You avoided Draco for the rest of the day, thinking about how you were going to respond when you did finally have to have that conversation. You were quiet during dinner at The Great Hall, refusing to meet Draco’s stare that you could feel from a few tables away. He had been itching to talk to you since you had left him that morning, and he was afraid you were going to make official plans to stay at school over the break. Then you really wouldn’t be coming back home with him. 

You booked it out of The Great Hall once you were dismissed from dinner, hoping to sneak back to your dorm undetected. You sighed in relief when you made it to the Hufflepuff common room, continuing your commute to your room. You had originally planned on spending the night in your room alone to figure this all out, but your plans changed when you saw a familiar face sitting on your bed, like a puppy waiting for its owner to come back.

Draco was sitting with his legs folded, and his head perking up when you walked in. You had left dinner in such a hurry that you were quite shocked that he had gotten here before you. You weren’t sure if he was still angry with you, so you approached lightly.

“Hey. How’d you beat me here?” You questioned.

He gave a proud smirk.

“I’m quick like that.” He bragged.

You gave a soft laugh, comforted that he didn’t seem to be angry anymore. You knew he had come to talk. You supposed that now was as good as any other time. He extended his hand to you, requesting that you sit with him. You shrugged off your robes, before taking his hand and joining him on your small bed. Your room was quiet, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He leaned forward a little, looking into your bright eyes that he loved so much. He could see the anticipation behind them.

“Kiss me.” He whispered.

You met him halfway, kissing him gently. You had missed him today, in all honesty.

“I didn’t see you all day...how was your Herbology test?” He asked after he pulled away.

“It was fine,” You said, getting right to the point; “I’m guessing you didn’t race me back here to talk about Herbology.”

His fingertips danced over the material of your skirt. You knew him so well.

“No, I didn’t,” He admitted; “Darling, why won’t you come back home with me?”

You averted your eyes to everywhere but him.

“You come from wealth and prosperity...your parents are very well known.” You began.

Draco nodded, but didn’t say anything yet.

“You’re all pureblood Slytherins and I...well...” You paused; “I’m just a Hufflepuff.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. He shifted closer to you.

“’Just a Hufflepuff’? You’re not just a Hufflepuff,” He corrected; “Do you think that my parents won’t accept you because you’re not a Slytherin?”

“Are you saying that they will?” You asked, suddenly looking at him.

Draco sighed heavily. He wouldn’t lie, the thought had crossed his mind. He was curious to see their reaction, because they always assumed he’d bring home a Slytherin, or maybe a Ravenclaw. He didn’t want you to be ashamed of your House.

“If they don’t, then they’re going to have to learn to,” He said, kissing your hand; “Because I’m not giving you up for them.”

You gave a short, but rather unamused laugh. You were still worried. 

“Do you think they’ll like me? Aside from being a Hufflepuff?” You asked.

Draco smiled proudly, leaning in again so his lips were close to yours.

“Darling, they’re going to love you,” He said honestly; “If nothing else, I want to spend the whole holiday snuggled up with my favorite girl.” 

You sheepishly laughed, a smile appearing on your face. You loved the sound of that.

“There’s that stunning smile,” He added; “So, what do you say? Will you come home with me for Christmas?”

You pondered for a moment. While you were still nervous, you realized that the important part would be spending Christmas with Draco, regardless of what his parents thought. You had to admit, it’d be nice to actually have someone to spend the holiday with. 

“Yes. I will.”

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