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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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Soooo, tell me, do you think Astarion would be jealous or possessive at times? Do you think he gets nervous about losing his partner?

Oh, he would definteley be possessive! I think it would come out of fear. Like, what if Tav dumps him for someone better?

Thanks @brabblesblog and @rachelle-on-the-run for beta-reading!

Doubts

Synopsis: Astarion thinks you are going to leave him for someone better and accuses you of infidelity.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, a heated argument

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Headcanons

Astarion can't process what he feels.

Anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Betrayal?

You stand in the sunlight, bathing in the warm rays. You smile, sincere and happy, while he stands in the shadows like the monster he is.

A man, a handsome half-elf, with long and dark hair practically dances around you like a bird during mating season. He openly flirts with you and you giggle at his jokes.

You don't try to shut him down. You smile. You laugh.

Astarion can't hear the conversation, but he is sure you wouldn't talk like that if you knew he was near.

If it was night, he could easily grab your hand and threaten this man with the daggers.

But he can't.

He is useless.

The only thing he can do is to watch. He sees you taking the man's hand and then hugging him. Warm and tight.

It's too much even for him.

He dissapears into the tunnels below the city. When he returns to the camp, it's already dark and you light a fire.

"Astarion,good news", you tell him. "We - What is wrong?"

He looks up at you. The anger is replaced with poison.

"If you wanted to fuck someone else, you should have just said so," he mutters through the teeth.

"What?"

You dare to look surprised. Sure, why not. You aren't less manipulative than him. Learned from a professional.

"Oh, stop with this innocent smile! You know what I’m talking about! I've seen you flirting with that man. Tell me - is his body warm? Does his back look new and perfect?"

"You followed me."

"Answer the damn questions, Tav!"

You stand up.

"That was my friend. I knew him ages ago! I just didn't expect to meet him all of a sudden!"

"Come on, any common fool could see you were all over each other. You want to sleep with him? Fine. At least, you could be so kind as to tell me beforehand. I think I deserve it."

"Astarion, stop."

Your soft voice annoys him even more.

He bursts. It's like a firestorm, unstoppable and cruel. He yells at you, spitting all the most disgusting insults as if it can numb at least some of his pain.

A whore. A slut. A bitch.

He yells at the top of his lungs. And then suddenly…

A slap.

Loud and painful. His cheek burns of how hard you've slapped him. It sobers him up and Astarion stares at you in shock. He wishes he could take all the words away. To go back in time and make himself stop before spitting all this poison.

"Tav..."

"GO AWAY!"

He has never heard you screaming like that. You hate him. And he deserves it.

"GO FUCKING AWAY! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"

Tears stream down your face as you sit on the ground. Your body shudders.

And Astarion runs.

He disappears into the woods. In the darkness. In the cold.

The cheek still burns. You've never gotten physical with him - except for that first time when he almost drained you. Astarion sometimes remembers how you kicked him in the ribs.

But, maybe, it's all for the best? You can find a living person to spend your life with. Because what can he even offer? His nightmares? His pain? His tainted touches?

The very thought of you in someone else’s hands makes him sick. But at the same time, what did he expect after calling you all these awful names?

He needs to disappear, forever.

But the further he goes, the worse he feels. The invisible leash tugs him back and his undead heart bleeds.

The very idea of not seeing you, being alone, spending this condemned eternity on his own… He would prefer being flayed by a razor rather than living a day without you.

He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl back, begging for forgiveness. The same way he did when he was a slave.

Don't beat me. Don't torture me. I will do anything.

Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. I will do anything.

As he returns to the camp, he sees you by the fire. You notice him and turn your head away.

"Please... I am sorry... I didn't mean it."

You look at him but instead of the softness he craves there is only cold.

The only thing he desires is to hug you, to be pressed against your chest. To hear the words of love and comfort.

But there is an invisible wall between you two.

"Please… Don't leave me!" he begs. "I can't… I don't know how to live without you."

You sigh. "Astarion, I am not leaving you. But I am angry. I am angry like all the devils of Avernus."

"Then… I am sorry! I am sorry for calling you all these words, I am sorry for..."

"No, Astarion. It won't work like that. This relationship won’t work. "

Astarion is taken aback. "Then what do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. But you need to understand that I have feelings, too."

Silence. Astarion is motionless.

"You are apologizing out of fear." you continue. "Because you’re used to expecting violence. I want you to apologize out of honesty. You hurt me. You accused me of infidelity. You called me all these slurs people used against you, perfectly knowing how much that hurts. You offended my friend, the person I grew up with, someone who I thought was dead. The person who gave me a very good contract just because I asked. For that, I need you to apologize."

You both are silent. Astarion looks somewhere in the distance.

"Listen, Tav, you know I am like that. I can’t control it."

"You do! That's the thing. You were infantilized for two hundred years. But you are a man. You are not a boy, not a pet, not a slave. You don't need to be trained or taught. You are a man. And you must learn to be responsible for your actions. I understand why you are like that. But it doesn't mean I have to allow you to say anything you want."

The words hurt like daggers when he finally manages to say them out loud.

"I am sorry. I am sorry for thinking you could leave me. I am sorry for hurting you. My emotions took the best of me. I am afraid, I am constantly afraid. I am afraid you will leave me for what I am."

A touch. Soft and delicate. He feels like crying the moment your tender fingers caress his skin.

"And I am sorry for getting physical. I shouldn't have slapped you."

"I deserved it"

"No one deserves beatings. Especially, from their loved ones."

You press your forehead against his. "You aren't an easy person to deal with, Astarion. But I knew it from the beginning. When you confessed to me, I had a chance to stop it. I didn't do it. Because I love you. But I am a living breathing person and if you hurt me, I bleed. "

He nods. "But if you ever want to end all this - "

"I won't"

He smiles and presses his finger against your lips. "If you ever decide it's too much, tell me. Just be honest. "

You wrap your hands around his neck and tug him close. "You know, when he hugged me, my first thought was "damn, his skin is so uncomfortably hot". And he told me we should stop it because his husband is jealous. I think they are having a very uncomfortable conversation right now."

You sit together in silence looking at the campfire. Soon, Astarion notices a stripe of light in the distance and his vampiric senses send a shiver down his spine.

You yawn.

"Let's get some rest. Astarion, I hate asking for reciprocation, but since you probably want to make amends…"

"What do you want, my sweet?"

"Can you please not leave my side while I sleep? Just be with me till I wake up."

He closes his eyes and lets out a short laugh. And this is your idea of making amends? A few hours ago he would beg you to let him touch you, let alone cuddle with you.

He cocks his head. "Only if you make amends for slapping me."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to be the little spoon."

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion hurt #astarion comfort #astarion ancunin #astarion fics #astarion x f!tav #spacebarbarian fics #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader

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unclewaynemunson · 6 months

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It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

#it's been a while but look i'm back on my clarkson bullshit #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #clarkson my beloved #wayne munson #scott clarke #eddie munson #clarkson #wayne munson x scott clarke #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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pochipop · 1 year

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＃ALICE IN BORDERLAND !! ♡ — THERE'S NO HELL IN WHAT I'VE FOUND (CHISHIYA X READER).

#. synopsis! — chishiya has fallen in way too goddamn deep .

#. characters! — chishiya .

#. warnings! — brief mentions of canon-typical gore, slight angst .

#. word count! — 1.2k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — i have not finished season 2 yet, but i wrote this all in one sitting after seeing the first two episodes + falling for this silly man all over again lolol. i might branch out + write more for this fandom (but i will never write for niragi, so just a heads up on that!)

It really did just have to come to this, didn’t it?

Chishiya is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He knows that when it comes to surviving in a place like this, there are times when you have to sacrifice others and be willing to carry that burden for the rest of your life. There is no easy way out. Either you die and go on to whatever happens next, —if anything happens at all— or you push others to the wayside in lieu of saving yourself, preserving your own survival, and you live to see the monster you inevitably become.

And call him crazy, but Chishiya was okay with becoming a monster if it meant he could save himself. Hell, he’d done so much of the work from the shadows that it would hardly be fair to let him of all people meet his tragic end here.

But you just couldn’t help yourself. You had to crawl under his skin, —make him care about you, make him fall so hard that he was left to question whose survival mattered more. When it came down to the wire. . .

He’d have chosen you.

That’s the scariest realization of all, he muses. These games, all the gunfire, all the explosions, all the fatal electric shocks. . . They paled in comparison to the realization that his biggest fear wasn’t his own demise anymore. It was yours.

As the game comes to a close and those of you left standing slowly reacclimate to the best state of normalcy one can muster up given the circumstances, he hates that his first instinct is to slip away, knowing you’ll find him soon enough. He may have been foolish enough to catch feelings, but he wasn’t so dumb that he’d show such a weakness around anyone else. Though he’s sure the likes of Kuina or Arisu have long since caught on, —he won’t be the one to confirm a damn thing, and he expects that you’ll keep your mouth shut about it as well. It’ll be a worse liability than it already is if word gets out to the wrong people.

Chishiya slips away before anyone has the chance to acknowledge his presence, leaving his absence unaccounted for by everyone but you. Of course, you noticed him sneaking away, parting from the group like a snake in the grass. . . You’ve always been a little too perceptive for your own good.

Fatigue claws at you like a famished predator, weighing your body down a great deal. You smell of sweat and the blood of the young girl next to you who hadn’t been quite so lucky. Still, you will your body forward and follow in Chishiya’s footsteps after lingering for just long enough to throw suspicion off your trail. While you certainly aren’t a master of manipulation, —you are clever in a way that even someone like Chishiya has to respect. You know how to take care of yourself, even in a twisted world like this.

He wishes knowing that gave him any kind of peace, but he’s afraid he’s reached the point of no return. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you can survive just about any of these games on your own. . . It’s that even if he does, the worry lingers just because it’s you.

Fuck.

He really can’t believe he’s done this to himself. It’s so untimely, so completely and utterly ridiculous, —so much so that he convinces himself his mind is just playing tricks on him sometimes until you fall into place at his side again and all such thoughts are forced out the window from his vice-like grip.

“Ugh,” you grumble, arm tucked below your chest as you cradle your own torso, “there you are.”

Chishiya offers you little more than a sidelong glance before returning his stoic gaze to the skyline. The sun sets as you bring yourself closer to him, keeping a comfortable distance. It ends up just like this far too often, and Chishiya frowns at the thought of closing the barely-there gap, brushing his shoulder against yours. Maybe later in the night when the lethargy really starts to hit him and his inhibitions lower ever so slightly, he’ll let himself fall apart just enough to hold you for whatever time of fleeting hours remains. That way, he can blame it on the fatigue, on the cold, on the temptation of sleeping next to a warm body.

It’s not because it’s you, it’s just because you’re there.

And maybe if that were the case, Chishiya wouldn’t be quite this frustrated.

“Surprised it took you so long to find me,” he says finally, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You’ve been getting slower about it.”

“Oh, well excuse me for not rushing after you like a lion on a gazelle,” you answer sarcastically. “Not like my lungs almost gave out down there or anything.”

He doesn’t say it, —but he’d trade his breath for yours if it meant you could reach him faster.

“That one wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs. “We’ve both been through worse.”

His worst is just beginning, it seems. You close the gap yourself, resting part of your weight against him, and he feels his heart flip itself into a tailspin. For the first time in so long, Chishiya isn’t sure where to go from here. He’s trapped inside these feelings and they’re inching closer to swallowing him whole by the second. They run so deep he might as well be drowning in them.

“Easy for us to say, I guess,” you mumble. “We’re alive. Most people who end up here aren’t that lucky.”

“True enough,” he acknowledges softly, making no move to push you away.

He never does.

You stand in silence with him for a while, watching as the sky turns dark and the bright colors of the setting sun are swallowed up by a deep, velvety navy. There’re no stars to be seen, nothing for you to wish on. . . It’s a little childish, but any sliver of normalcy you can manage here, you’ll take with open arms. That’s why you let your feelings for Chishiya blossom freely, refusing to stifle your heart’s desires for the sake of some stupid game of life and death.

If I die right now, I’d rather do it with you than be alone.

Chishiya wishes you’d never said those words to him, —not because he doesn’t reciprocate, but because they resonated much too wholly for comfort. If he can help it, he won’t be going out in a place like this. But more than that, he can’t imagine letting your flame be snuffed out without a ravenous fight.

Silence reigns once again. It’s a characteristic feature of your gentler moments with Chishiya that are few and far between, but when they happen, you like to think you cherish them the best way you know how. Beyond that, you also like to think Chishiya finds even the slightest sliver of peace with you.

He doesn’t confirm or deny anything of the sort, but you wager that’s a flimsy yes at the very least when the tension in his shoulders melds away and his head rests gently against your own.

You can’t make any promises about tomorrow, —but for now, things are okay. And if that’s the best you’ll get here, then so be it.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya reader insert #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya shuntaro x y/n #alice in borderland reader insert

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avelera · 9 months

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Thinking about blasphemy and Good Omens right now and I can't help but notice an interesting phenomenon around some discussions I've seen about the Second Coming and Jesus Christ being a character in S3.

Namely, I see much more underlying discomfort around the possibility of the show poking fun at the figure of Jesus Christ than I do with any other prediction discussion or discussion around religion in the show.

On the one hand, I completely understand how poking fun at the Antichrist dogma from Revelations doesn't feel particularly blasphemous, where poking fun at Jesus does. The Antichrist is a stock character of horror at this point. Many more disrespectful teams than Gaiman and Pratchett have played with that story. It's barely even considered poking fun at Christianity to have Adam, the son of Satan, be a good kid in Good Omens. But Jesus is a very important figure to Christians all over the world. There are devout Christians who truly love Jesus and no one wants to be a jerk by just outright disrespecting a figure that is dear to so many.

But on the other hand, expecting Good Omens to not make fun of Jesus is a bit absurd to me. Literally saying, "I don't think the satirical religion show is going to satirize religion because it might upset people." Gaiman hasn't shied away from messing with religion or religious bigots before. He gleefully shrugged off attacks over God being a woman, or Adam and Eve being portrayed by people of color.

The Book of Job is lampooned in Season 2. I know it doesn't feel like it to many people here, but the reinterpretation of the Book of Job in S2 definitely registers as blasphemy on some religious scales. It is satirizing a religious text after all.

Saying that angels and demons fall in love and worse, have that love be portrayed by actors of the same sex could be seen as blasphemy at the very least on the level of saying God is a woman. And by the way, it's not like these religious texts say "God is whatever you want the entity to be" or "God is a woman if that makes you happy". Hell no, the Bible is extremely damn clear on God being male. The official position of the Catholic Church is that God is male. Official Catholic dogma is incredibly anti-female in terms of inherent holiness, women cannot become priests, even nuns are dependent on a priest to deliver the Sacraments, it's a huge deal and they are not planning to change any time soon and it is totally unambiguous.

Making God explicitly female might not seem like a big deal since films like Dogma, another religious satire, did it in the 90s but to True Believes in the official doctrine, that is a form of blasphemy.

Good Omens is by definition a blasphemous work. How offensively blasphemous it is really depends on the devoutness of the viewer. And I find it interesting the extent to which there's something of a knee jerk, "Oh they won't do that!" in terms of further satirizing religion in the show about religious satire. As if Jesus hasn't been satirized in other mainstream movies before like the aforementioned Dogma or Life of Brian.

And here's the thing, my personal opinion is? Blasphemy is good! Blasphemy laws on the books mean it's ok to punish, hurt, or even kill a person for making fun of religion or just doing the religion wrong. Human progress has been frozen in place by blasphemy laws, sciences have progressed when blasphemy laws ease or often while deliberately concealing their efforts from authorities in places where blasphemy laws or laws that were otherwise based on the dominant religion exist.

If anything, I am actually a bit uncomfortable with the idea that Good Omens should hold back on lampooning a figure like Jesus Christ. If devout Christians will make laws that determine what other humans can do with their bodies based on their religion, then their religion should absolutely be open to outright mockery without punishment or ramification to anyone. Of course on an individual level I wouldn't wish to be offensive to someone sincerely religious but at the same time, I am also violently anti-censorship of any kind. And blasphemy and religious mockery are often right at the heart of censorship debates.

The world is a better place when we can openly mock religion.

I'm not going to caveat that as an opinion. Being able to openly and without fear discuss, criticize, and mock religion is an incredibly important part of any free society. The battles over this right have been vicious and bloody and are actively ongoing around the world. Just as an example, anti-blasphemy laws were on the books in Ireland until 2020, there was a huge campaign to have them removed because other countries were pointing to them as an example of why they should keep and exercise such laws.

My point is that I suppose this is something of hyperbole or alarmist or overly strident. I can understand people wanting to be decent about not openly mocking a figure of such importance to so many like Jesus. But quite honestly? I hope Good Omens does whatever it pleases with mocking Jesus. I hope they don't hold back. I hope people remember that being able to mock religion is really important, especially when representatives of that religion are actively trying to clamp down on the rights of others.

And honestly, if religious people are offended they should just not watch or they should develop a thicker skin if they expose themselves to such discourse. Religion and Christianity in particular is an active part of the public sphere. It is worthy of discussion. Public discourse often includes mockery, especially of the powerful and of powerful forces that steer the course of nations, like Christianity.

And I think it's important for Good Omens fans, who are a very progressive group, not to cherry pick and moralize over what satire or blasphemy is permitted. All satire should be permitted. All blasphemy should be permitted. The religious bigots don't care if you think God being a woman is ok but making fun of Jesus isn't. It's all the same, anything but glowing praise is criticism to some of these forces. Open discussion is far more important and yes, that includes mockery, and silly discussions in a silly show about an angel and a demon who avert the Apocalypse and fall in love.

#maggie rambles #good omens spoilers

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frownyalfred · 3 months

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you know this thing where almost every comic ever about a nightmare sequence has the wayne's murder as the most ultimate terrible horrendous thing that happened to bruce ever and then have him overcome it in the next comic?

Not that his trauma isn't terrible but I feel like he should have moved on during his time as dick's and jason's guardian/dad and then the next big trauma thing happened. And then he moves on slightly from that and the next big trauma thing happens. And then again. And again.

Sure, his parents are always going to be the first stone for the foundation of his purpose as batman but then other things keep happening and he accumulates more trauma and experiences and those things become part of what batman is too.

I don't mean he should move on because then batman would cease to exist the way he is now, i mean that his main fear and trauma has evolved, and, basically, integrated all the bad things that ever happened to him and people he's close to.

So when he thinks of his parents, he also thinks of what happened to barbara's birth parents and gordon, Dick's parents and jason's parents and tim's parents and clark's parents and so on...

I think that would be more interesting than getting another "oh yeah, look at that. poor batman and his poor parents, one being doomed to watch and two being doomed to get shot. do you feel sad now? you should, just look at his poor parents"

Every worst fear would be different depending on what happened last week, so every nightmare sequence could just focus on the different horrors of being a vigilante.

when, exactly, would you have him "move on"? As in "move on but not really". Their deaths stop being an oppressive force and become a resigned sadness that he accepted a long time ago but also tries to change every day when he steps in front of bullets in alleyways.

Does this make sense???

Yes! I’m glad you brought this up since I actually just finished watching Gen V on prime where they have a very similar fanfiction esque dream sequence in someone’s mind where you see their “most traumatic” experience.

And yeah. While Bruce’s parents’ murders were formative and probably damn near the worst thing that ever happened to him, they happened DECADES ago. Unless he’s actively rehearsing those memories, they are never going to hurt as much as newer, traumatic events.

I know I keep going back to this but someone told me the other day that there’s no worse grief than losing a parent, except losing a child. Bruce LOST Jason, in a highly traumatic and arguably preventable way. Compared to his parents’ death, it was far more visceral and happened to him as an adult fully capable of processing what occurred.

I’m sure some other folks here can come up with other recent events that might pop up in Bruce’s mind other than just Jason’s death.

Bruce is an effective compartmentalizer, but even the most seasoned PTSD pro needs time to repackage and quash traumatic memories.

If a writer or movie dove into Bruce’s mind right after Jason’s death and still went straight to the memory of his parents’ deaths (saved into his mind at a young age) I personally feel like they’re missing the point.

#end rant haha #bruce wayne #batman #dc #thoughts #you’re so right anon #asks #anon #Jason todd #red hood #a death in the family

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 months

Text

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you.

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding.

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.”

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes.

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside.

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you.

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up.

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together.

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided.

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked.

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home.

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N.

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach.

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers.

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning.

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all.

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe.

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers.

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off.

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too.

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up.

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday.

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!”

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house.

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC.

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up.

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred.

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath.

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x #dean winchester fanfic #football au

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

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I Love You, And I Don't Say It Enough:

Pt. 2; Baby, It's Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) x Reader

Warnings: she/her pronouns used, possible ooc Daryl idk, PinV sex, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 👹), rough to soft sex, canon typical violence, mentions of character death. Not proofread.

About: This is set after Season 7 (meaning if you do not know who died Season 7 Episode 1, please do not read if you do not want spoilers.) This is a little fic about Daryl returning to Alexandria after escaping from Negan. I may have gotten some of the details wrong, but this was mostly for my own enjoyment. If you have a request you want to send in for him or another character, feel free. I will be making a master list for TWD and include the characters I write for here in the next few days!

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

The past few weeks had been some of the toughest of your life. Not only did you witness two of your good friends die, but you knew that more blood would be shed along the way after theirs. You just didn't think it would be Daryl. He wasn't dead, not from what you knew, at least. They just took him from you. A man who's helped you survive since the beginning. A man who you grew very fond of, and he grew just as fond of you in return. You thought Alexandria brought hope to the future the both of you could share. You were wrong. At least in this moment you were so very wrong.

You screamed for them not to take him from you. It only made them laugh. Negan made a comment about wanting to take you, too. Make you his wife and Daryl have to watch him treat you like his. "I'll be back for ya, don't cry," was the last thing Daryl had said to you. It didn't stop your tears, if anything it only made them worse. What if that was the last time he would ever speak with you? The last time you'd ever see his face. What if he ended up like Glenn and Abraham... Or worse?

It felt like months had passed without him, but in reality. It was only about three, maybe four days. Living without him was lonely. Sure as hell a lot colder at night than having his furnace of a body cooped up next to you. When you saw him get off the truck, you nearly collapsed. His eyes looked tired, but they still searched for you. They still widened and looked at you with the same love and adoration as before. Negan was quick to stop the interaction when Daryl blurted your name and the both of you attempted to run for one another.

"Well," his smile, god. You'd give nothing more than to shoot it off his face. "Isn't this just adorable? Don't you think, Lucille?" He chuckled, walking up to you with a curious gaze. "We've got little miss Jane over here, and her man of a Tarzan over there." He spoke with a sigh. "Gross." He snickered, looking back at Daryl while circling around you. Placing his hands on your hips. Watching you flinch and Daryl fight with the people holding him back. "Don't touch 'er!" "Hey now, what did I say? None of that, or else I'll shut," He held his bat up close to your face. "That shit down." He spoke, voice getting lower and more stern with each word. Daryl understood, even if he didn't want to. Looking at you with a gaze that told you everything was going to be all right.

Negan chuckled again, leaning in close to press his nose against the side of your hair. Inhaling deeply, and then sighing. "Damn! Does your woman smell nice. Bet she tastes just as good, if yunno what I mean." He told Daryl with a sly grin. "Don't talk about 'er-" "Do you wanna see her brains on the pavement? Because I sure as hell don't! I've seen too many super hot wives die. No use wasting such a pretty face when she could maybe be yours again." Daryl glared, Negan looking back at you with a sigh and pursed lips. "You should really tame your dog. He's gonna bite someone someday."

After that, you had a sliver of hope. That maybe since they were letting him go on runs with them. That maybe Daryl could figure something out and get away. Maybe you'd wake up one night to Daryl climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close to one another and not saying a word. Just holding each other in silence.

Each passing day grew harder and harder. Each day without him felt like shit. Like it was a reminder that you would be alone. You came into this apocalypse alone. Everyone you ever knew and loved, dead. Then you would die alone. Everyone that you ever knew and loved being just as dead.

But then, it happened.

Everyone else saw him before you had. Hugging and reuniting with their friend. Their family. He didn't linger with anyone too long, though. His main priority was you. It was always you, and would always be. He had to make sure that you were safe. That he knew you were safe. "She's in the house. Up in your room. I think she's reading." Tara told him, and he nodded. Giving a soft thanks before racing off in order to find you. To hold you and never let go.

He crept up the stairs. His body trembling along with his breath. Doing his best to not be too fast and startle you, but the closer he got. The more he couldn't help himself. Finally reaching the door to your guys' room. Reaching out to touch the handle but to his surprise. It turned for him. Watching with cautious and wide eyes as the door opened and he was met with you. His girl. His woman. His wife. Though the two of you weren't official, nor did either of you talk about marriage. He considered you to be his spouse. May as well be since his eyes were only ever on you since they first saw you.

"Daryl," You didn't have time to say anything else. Cut off by Daryl pulling you in for a desperate kiss. He was never good with words, anyways.

The hunter was quick to get his point across too. About how much he missed you. How he wasn't about to let you go anytime soon, either. It didn't take long for him to push you onto the bed once the door was shut, and to have your clothes on the floor along with his own.

"Daryl," you called his name out, over and over like a soft prayer. Hands roaming one another's bodies with desperation. Pulling each other as close as you both could. Hungry mouths worked at either kissing anywhere they could reach or muttering soft nothings to one another.

Daryl was fairly rough with everything at first too. Like he was trying to tell you both that this was real. That he was here and so were you. His hips were fast. Each thrust within you deep and desperate. trying to chase what you both wanted. It was rough and fast, until it wasn't.

A slight worry set within you when his thrusts slowed, finally coming to a hault. His face buried in the crook of your neck. You were about to ask if you did something wrong until you heard the rigid and quiet sob that came from your lover. Frowning while your arms reached out to hold him. One hand on the back of his head, while the other rested on his back. Rubbing with soft motions while shushing him. Peppering the side of his head with kisses.

"Dar', honey, look at me. I'm here, you're back. Please, don't cry," you lulled, your eyes watering at the sound of his cries in your ear. You hated to hear or even see him cry, but you were glad that he did every so often. He was so good at bottling everything up. It scared you a lot of the time.

"Dar', sweetheart, please, look at me. Let me see you," He listened this time. Pulling away from your neck to look down at you. His blue eyes bloodshot. He had a black eye and a busted lip, which only made you frown more. Fingers tracing his face with your eyes. "Oh baby, what'd they do to you." He grunted, turning his face to get you to stop. "I thought I lost you," he muttered, a tear rolling down both of your faces this time. Your own lip quivering at his words. Everything finally setting in with both of you. "I thought I lost you too, Dixon." He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your own.

"Did they touch you?" You shook your head, hands still holding the sides of his face. "No, think ya scared them too much," Daryl chuckled lightly at that. Opening his eyes to look at you again. "Yeah, maybe."

It was silent again. The both of you holding onto one another while staring back at each other. "I love you," you couldn't help but smile at his words. Running your fingers through his hair. Watching his eyes flutter shut and reluctantly open once more. You could easily put him to sleep by just playing with his hair. "I know you do, you have a way of telling me with your actions, always have. I love you too, mountain man." He rolled his eyes at the nickname and you chuckled. "I don't tell ya it enough, I love you. Really do. That's all I thought 'bout, too. That I don't tell ya it enough." He muttered, and you sighed. Resting your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them slightly. "Daryl, I told you. You say it without saying it. I know you do." He sighed with a nod, smiling faintly as you leant up to kiss the side of his mouth. Wanting to continue what the both of you started moments prior, but he wasn't done with his tangent. You wouldn't stop him though, you'd let him open up anytime he wanted to.

"All I could think about in there was you. If I'd see ya again. Hear ya," he spoke. "I was scared he'd.." He paused, breathing a bit heavily for a second as he thought. "Scared he'd take ya from me." "Dar', I'd go out fighting before I let him do anything to me." He chuckled, reaching up to brush some hair from your forehead. "That's what I was worried 'bout. If I lost you," "but you didn't, and I'm here. You're here. We're safe." "For now." You didn't say anything more after that. Only wrapping an arm around the back of his neck while staring up at him.

"I love you," he muttered again, and you nodded, leaning up to brush your lips against his. "I love you too, Daryl." He closed the gap between the both of you rather quick. Humming lowly into the kiss while rolling his hips against yours. Still nestled inside you.

It wasn't long before he was rolling his hips. Rolls turning into thrusts. He didn't move fast and rough like before, though. He took his time. Letting you know how much he loved and cared about you with his actions, again. His hand coming between the both of you to run his fingers between your folds. Your soft noises you released into his mouth were enough for him to continue. Lips traveling down to your neck. Leaving soft kisses and then love marks and bites. All while his fingers rubbed over your clit. Smirking softly as your hips bucked and rolled in order to chase your high, but Daryl didn't let you. No, not at first. He was dragging this out as long as he could.

"Wanna cum with ya," he muttered, kissing your collar bone with a groan. "Then do it," a growl left his throat at your words. Hips finally picking up to the speed the both of you were wanting. His finger rubbing a bit rougher on your bud. Not too harsh, but just enough it had your back arching off the bed. Hands grasping at him to ground yourself. One hand Tangling in his hair while the other clawed at his back. His lips came crashing on yours. Muffling the noises the both of you made as your bodies met their high.

You were the first to go, Daryl following right after. He came inside of you, but you didn't care. Not right now, at least. That was a problem to deal with later. Right now it was all about you and him. Holding each other after your highs became lows and you were both back on earth.

He pulled out, slowly. Doing his best not to hurt you, or himself in the overstimulated discomfort you were both in. "Wow," he looked at you with a brow raised as he used a Kleenex to wipe you both up. "I don't think we've fucked that hard in a while," you chuckled, and he chuckled back. Tossing the napkin into the bin before crawling back over you. A hand cupping the side of your face with a hum. "Ya tellin' me I only fuck good when one's of us nearly dies?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your lips. You shook your head, rubbing at his chest. "No, 'course not, we've just been..." "Busy?" You nodded, kissing him again. "Yeah," he sighed.

He finally laid next to you after tugging his shirt back on. Letting you pull your own and your underwear back on as well. Daryl kept the shirt on so no one would see his scars beside you. You were mostly dressed so if anything happened no one would see you nude. A precaution to keep both your and Daryl's minds easy.

Daryl pulled your body close to his own. Strong arms wrapped safely around your waist. "How 'bout we blame it on Rick." he muttered, and your brows furrowed, an amused smile on your lips. "What? Our sad sex life before today?" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Yeah. He's always got us doin' stuff. No time for me to fuck ya." You snorted, rolling your eyes while swatting at his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep, Dixon." He smiled, pulling your closer while resting his chin atop your head. "Love you," you smiled, kissing his throat with a tired sigh. "I love you, too. I'm glad you're safe and home." "Me too, darlin'."

#daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon smut #the walking dead #two x reader #x reader #this was purely self indulgent #If you like it #that's a plus

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munsons-mutiny · 1 year

Text

Headcanon that next season it’s Steve not Jonathan who catches Will staring at Mike with patented Wheeler Longing. He knows that look, hell he invented that look.

And is very first thought is God Damn I’m just collecting Gays at this point.

He makes an effort to spend more time with Will when he realizes. While they’re all volunteering and just doing their best in the weeks after losing Eddie, he always tries to make sure Will knows he sees him.

As they get closer he starts taking wise cracks at El and Mike whenever they’re around, stupid sassy comments that never fail to make Will smile or even laugh. Eventually he even starts roping Will into teasing Robin for being hopeless with girls. (Robin is of course in on it and has approved being outed in this scenario, Steve would never have revealed it otherwise)

The first time it had happened Will had frozen up completely looking around to see who was listening, he looked terrified. But Steve just kept his reaction natural and Robin just rolled her eyes talking about all of his strike outs last summer. Their usual banter filling the space until Will could breathe again, could join back in to give Robin shit.

His smiles are even brighter after that, even more open, and sometimes when the three of them are alone he comments on a cute boy he saw, or really rants about Mike. Steve and him bond over Wheeler rants, even though Steve really is over Nancy now.

When shit inevitably kicks off again, Steve keeps an even closer eye on Will. He’s one of the people that he’s overprotective of now, and it’s the first time one of those people have been the focus of the enemies. Have had a target painted on their back. It has him so stressed already, that he hits his breaking point the day they encounter Kaz.

Not Eddie. Cause he’s not Eddie, not anymore. He nearly took a bite out of Dustin, and Johnathon had to restrain Mike to stop him from running to him. Only stopped fighting when Kaz grinned at him blood covered fangs and dead eyes.

It was a bad day.

They somehow all make it back to the cabin unscathed, and Steve has to keep it together. Has to make himself strong while Dustin falls apart in his arms, and Mike is pacing and shouting at anyone who will listen. Tears streaming down his face. He keeps it together for hours, til Dustin falls asleep against him, and Will finally got Mike to sit down and pass out. Only when he’s sure he can escape unnoticed, does he stand and let himself outside to the back of the cabin.

The second he’s there he collapses into sobs. Falls to the ground and puts his face in his hands to muffle them. Shakes with the effort of it all.

It doesn’t take long for an arm to wrap around him as he’s tugged into and awkward side hug. When he looks up it’s to see Will comfortingly just there as much as he can be. They sit silently for what feels like hours before Steve finally speaks,

“I’m sorry”

“Why on earth are you apologizing?”

“I can usually keep it together better than this, they need me to be strong right now.”

“Nothing about this makes you weak. This is such a fucked up situation, this is worse than just losing him. And I know how important he was to the party. Im sorry I didn’t realize how important he was to you” Steve just shakes his head at him,

“He wasn’t not really, I only knew him after everything started going down. Only really spoke to him a handful of times. And honestly I didn’t even like him!” Steve’s voice picks up hear going higher and almost frantic, “He was annoying! And touchy! He gave me so much shit, and was always all over me! He flirted constantly, and was totally insufferable, and honestly I’m pretty sure Dustin liked him more than me! And! And….” His voice deflates on the last and, the fight and anxiety going out of him, “I couldn’t get him out of my fucking head man.” Will almost cant believe what he’s hearing.

“Steve are you?- Did you?” He almost cant ask the question, figured Steve would’ve told him by now if he was. What with their little group of queers that Steve tends to watch over. Heck Robin had even called him the unicorn collector! Like he was separate from them!

Steve just shakes his head frantically, “No! Or yes? More like maybe” He just sights putting his head back in his hands, “ I don’t even know anymore, there had always been fleeting attraction to guys but never anything- real, never anything like this! And then- well, he was gone before I ever got a chance to figure it out. Before we ever got a chance.” And he looks small, defeated like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and Will can’t stand it.

“Well then we save him, we get him back, and you figure it out”

#so this is rough #and unedited #but just #Steve and Will being close please #and Will and Robin getting queer solidarity please #steve harrington #will byers #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #angst #Mike wheeler #he’s there’s for a second #Byler if you squint #they’ll get there #queer solidarity

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year

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I'm feeling sooome...bed sharing. That good ol only one bed trope with Daryl. It's over done sure, bit my heart just loves the shit out of it. Thank you so much for sharing your talent and writing for us!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairing: daryl dixon x plus size!reader

― era: season 4

― summary: after being separated from everyone when the prison fell, you found yourself paired up with daryl, the man that, to him, you had been unknowingly pining for.

― warnings: literally none! it's all fluff!

― wc: 875

⋆ a/n: bed sharing is such a good trope! i'm a sucker for it every single time! this was such a fun right and honestly it made me all tingly inside.

masterlist | AO3

When the prison fell, your future and hope fell with it, only leaving a black pit of survival deep within your chest. You were grateful that Daryl had found you, tugging you along with him. Maybe it was because he was the only one that could ever bring you the feeling of safety in a time like this, or maybe it was because you were in love with him, unbeknownst to him.

You two had been on the run for what seemed like ages, your legs aching, skin sticky and sweaty, your stomachs empty as you fought away the feeling of exhaustion and irritability. You guys had been desperately trying to find somewhere to settle down on behalf of trying to find everyone else, which was quite difficult mind you. So, when you both had stumbled upon a gas station, you could’ve started crying, and if you were going to be honest, you kind of did. You had hoped there were still some snacks left despite the few cans that were split amongst the two of you.

You were more than eager to enter the run-down place, and surprisingly there were no walkers, just the putrid smell of rotting flesh.

“Hold on a damn minute, woman.” You heard Daryl grumble from behind you. “I’m okay, and there’s literally no one here.” You said as you scanned the shelves, eyes lighting up as you spotted a few bags of mini-potato chips. They were most likely stale, but you were in no place to complain, food was food now in days. “Ya don’ know that.” His crossbow was still raised. “If it makes you feel better, then you can double check everything, D. ‘See if I missed anything.” It was a compromise that you knew would bring the older man some peace of mind. He did exactly that, opening the back room before saying, “It’s clear.”

You followed up behind him, your eyes landing on a relatively clean mattress on the floor. It was no bigger than a wide twin bed. “Oh my god, I’m going to cry.” You gasped dramatically. You could hear him snort as you flopped down on the comforter, a wave of dust exploding from either side of you. “Well, that’s charming.” You laughed, Daryl biting back a smile as he disappeared back to the main part of the store.

As night began to fall and dinner was eaten, it was safe to say that you and him were completely pooped for the day.

“I’ll take the floor ‘nd you can take the bed.” His words left no room for an argument as he had already begun to lay out a blanket that he had found. “Are you sure, Daryl? That ground does not look comfortable or.. cleanly.” He just shrugged, flopping down on his back as he grunted. “’Had worse.” He mumbled. You just sighed out an, “Okay.” Before laying flat on your back.

You had no idea how long you had been awake, looking up at the rotting ceiling while your hands rested clasped together on your stomach.

“Daryl, you awake?” You whispered, as if you were afraid something could hear you. “Mhm.” Was your grunted response. You swallowed your nerves, fidgeting with your fingers. “Could you uh- could you maybe come up here with me?” A moment of silence settled over the two of you, and before you could chide yourself for asking a dumb question, he was up and moving, his movement causing you to scoot over. Your bodies were pressed together, hip-and-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder. His body heat was welcoming, comforting even as you resisted leaning your body further into him.

“Thank you.” You said quietly. “Ain’t no problem.”

“This is more comfortable, isn’t it?” You teased, never breaking eye contact with a certain spot on the roof that looked like a leak. You could feel him nudge you light-heartedly with his shoulder. “Do you think everyone’s okay?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Yeah, they’ll be alrigh’, they’re strong.” Your arms dropped down at your sides, your hands brushing up against one another’s. Your heart rate picked up, body beginning to feel hot as butterflies swarmed your stomach.

“I’m glad I got lost with you, Daryl.” You were being brave, bold even as you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. Finally, you turned your head to look at him only to find that he was already staring at you. “I love you.” Your confession came out in a bated breath, like you were afraid of what he was going to push you despite his hand tightening around your own. Daryl didn’t know what to say no matter how desperately he wanted to say that he felt the same, that he loved you too. His eyes fell to your lips before looking at you again.

It was as if there was a silent agreement, your heads moving until your lips brushed up against each other.

“It’s okay, D. I want this.” You said with a soft smile. He finally kissed you. It felt like everything was finally falling into place. When you separated, he was blushing, the tips of his ears a bright pink.

“You’re a damn good kisser.” You complimented.

“Shut up.” He said bashfully, but equally teasing.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 25 days

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One of my main problems with miraculous is the main villain and how little he’s actually doing in story most of the time

Gabriel never truly gains the own self claimed rivalry he has with ladybug, she ruins he’s plans but in most encounters he just sends minions and someone else screws up (all Akumas being very dumb or guillable, a new hero appearing or the heroes genuinely beating him fair and square) like when he used all miraculous and got himself stunned for overusing ALL miraculous like a idiot

Ladybug never truly defeated Hawkmoth (I’m heroes day she needed back up and he ran away, in sentibug he and Mayura ran away, same for miracle queen, her amulets were useless against mega Akumas, she lose the miraculous to Felix, escaped again by cataclysm himself and we all now how the final battle ended) her only wins against him (not a Akuma or goon, HIM) are getting the bunny miraculous back and in one of the world specials in which she had lots and lots of help

Series’s which last more than three seasons has their heroes constantly facing the villain because otherwise the foe will feel nonexistent after they only see it a couple of times in 72 episodes!

They never feel like foes, there’s examples of good villains like this like the emperor which has this constant presence and power and he’s made even better in the prequels when he appears unchanged but has a lot more involvement in the story at the end, just like Gabriel should (starts the events but in the end he triggers the most important things and brings it all to a climax) the problem is how incompetent he is (so he can’t be a master planner) and how weak he’s been portrayed has after season 2, went from beating the main two alone and without a weapon, to losing against POWERLESS TEENAGERS WITH CONDIMENTS WHEN HAVING TWO MIRACULOUS, ONE OF WHICH IS CREATION ITSELF!!! (so he can’t be threatening by power) and Nathalie is the actual brains of the operation making him look incompetent,weak and stupid all at the same time

A villain with a grudge like Gabriel’s would be constantly figthing agaisnt the heroes and losing by ability of the heroes and not by luck

Heroes constantly chasing after him, heroes he has a genuinely hard time facing, heroes who make him lose things (like going to prison, losing Allie’s, losing the Mcguffin, hurting someone beloved to the bad guy like a right hand)

Gabriel can work has villain, but not one who has a obsession like the Joker, or someone you can feel the hate coming from like Eggman, not even a rival’s who have a long story like Bowser

Because by all accounts he shouldn’t care about the heroes, only their miraculous, ladybug has only pushed he’s plans back but never succeeded at even making him lose something

That’s my other problem, Gabriel acts like ladybug won the war when in reality she had only wan battles, but never made any progress (Gabriel was actually the one winning the war with getting rid of the guardian and damning Chloe and having the zodiac miraculous)

He does the bare minimum, is portrayed has a easy to beat trash, the heroes do nothing to beat him making him constantly somewhat win the important battles by doing nothing, and it never feels like there’s a real rivalry or fiendship

Even shows 10 times worse than miraculous Can do actually good villains, even parody’s can make better villains, even telenovelas can make better villains!!!!

Honestly, the show should have just booted Gabriel from the main villain spot by the end of Season 3, maybe Season 4, because at this point, he's long overstayed his welcome, even if he wasn't a complete moron.

I said the Biggest Idiot Award was lifted from Phelous' reviews of Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation, but there's one clip in particular that can be used to explain how inept both the heroes and villains are.

Like you said, the finale clearly tried to make the final battle between Bug Noire and Monarch as epic as possible, like Superman vs Lex Luthor, but Marinette and Gabriel have spent so little time together, you just can't get invested in their supposedly bitter rivalry. Even the finale made a bigger deal about their connection being their respective relationships with Adrien instead of their roles as hero and villain.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #monarch

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drafthorsemath · 10 months

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Crosshair’s Redemption

I posted this here in response to an earlier post, but also thought this should just live on its own on my blog, so apologies if you’ve seen it twice. Essentially, here are some thoughts about whether Crosshair should be held accountable for his actions with the Empire. Spoilers for The Bad Batch Season 2.

I’ll start by saying that Crosshair is already holding himself accountable, even if he’s not calling it that. When people say they want redemption for Crosshair, often, from what I’ve seen, they either implicitly or explicitly want him specifically to suffer in some way and many don’t seem to realize that he is already suffering. They seem to think he deserves that suffering and then some. In some cases, they flat out want him dead and think that is the only way for him to “pay” and be redeemed. I won’t even pretend I’m not projecting when I say that as a cult survivor, that hurts me to my core because I relate to him so much and I suppose I’m at the point in all this when I can talk more about what it’s like to be in a cult and why people do what they do. (If you want to hear what it’s like growing up in a doomsday cult, I’ve been interviewed for two podcasts and can direct you there and my DMs are open.)

No, I didn’t murder anyone, so you might think Crosshair has done worse than I have. I’m not here to argue about that, but in some ways I think helping to destroy someone’s life or sense of self without killing them can be just as bad, no? I definitely hurt people, even if I didn’t kill them. I hurt them deeply, just as I was hurt, but is that an excuse? No. But also, I was under the influence of many layers of authority in my cult. Did they put a gun to my head and “make” me do hurtful things? No, but they also constructed the situation so that it very much felt like life or death. I did what I had to do to survive. Does that mean I’m not accountable? Also no. Amazingly, it’s complicated. I’ve certainly paid for my time in the cult even though I was born into it. No one else showed up and passed down a punishment, but figuring out how to grieve, make right, help others, and build a life while thoroughly traumatized was pretty damn punishing.

How is my survival in a cult any different than Crosshair trying to survive? Different than Crosshair telling Hunter there is a place for all of them in the Empire? Any different than Crosshair saying he made his choice and the clones that matter will be just fine? Crosshair may try to play it cool and seem unaffected, but this man is doing what he feels he needs to do in order to survive in circumstances that are not of his choosing.

I think by The Outpost it becomes very clear that Crosshair is changing, even though we see glimpses earlier. He was literally pushed to the point where he thought his life would end for killing Nolan. You can argue that he didn’t know for sure if his life would be over, but when he killed that asshole, he could have been shot where he was and he knew it. He knew by that point that the Empire did not care about him at all and he still pulled the trigger.

Crosshair started holding himself accountable the moment he started making different decisions. The moment he went from playing along to survive to actively going against the Empire was when he started holding himself accountable.

We should also talk about the chip that was (is?) in his head. He was very much being controlled at least at the beginning of season 1. We know that the clones acted the way they did during Order 66 because of the chips. Should he still be held responsible for what he did under the influence of the chip? Then what about Cody and Bly and Wolffe and every other clone who killed or tried to kill the Jedi? Like where do we draw the line? Is it even our job to draw the line? Is it the job of the Rebellion to draw the line? I don’t think it is. I think it’s fine for the Rebellion to say, “if you don’t see what you did as a problem, then we don’t want to work with you,” but I don’t think they should get a firing squad or pass down a punishment. In Rebels, did the Rebellion not want to work with Rex, Gregor, or Wolffe? Kanan had feelings about it, sure, but ultimately no one made them atone for being clones under the influence of a chip.

It’s always interesting to me that people talk about Crosshair atoning, but not Vader or Sidious or Kylo Ren or any number of lower level cult leaders like Rampart. Maybe it’s because we already know what will happen to Vader, Kylo, and Sidious. Maybe it’s because they die and we figure that has to cover all their transgressions, but we don’t know how Crosshair’s story will end and people want to make sure there’s some “justice.”

Throughout season 2, although there’s not a ton of Crosshair shown, we see he’s really miserable. He’s not sleeping, he’s not eating, he was left on the platform for 32 rotations. He looks like hell and he feels like hell. He is so expressive and it’s clear he’s miserable by the look on his face. Isn’t he already paying for his bounded choice? Being in a cult is already awful, it’s really traumatizing, but people seem to love to pile on more guilt and then blame cult members like if they just weren’t so stupid none of this would have happened. Ultimately, the only people in cults who are irredeemable are the upper cult leaders. Sidious does not care about anyone but himself. He can’t be redeemed. Everyone else though? There’s hope for them. Don’t we want a better world where people can learn from their mistakes and help others? Where growing and bettering oneself is an ongoing process that lasts a life time? How many awful things need to happen to Crosshair before people will say “okay you ticked enough boxes, I forgive you now”? He is a complicated man, but he has empathy and he loves and cares for his family. Again this doesn’t mean he gets off without paying for what he’s done, but also, he’s already paying for his choices by living in a version of hell. Being in a cult is terrible and soul-crushing for everyone but the top cult leader.

I also would be remiss if I didn’t mention how Crosshair spent the end of season 2 strapped to a table, able to fight drugs in his system to get far enough to warn his siblings that the Empire is after Omega. While the full message didn’t get out, he did his utmost to warn them. He didn’t try to run for himself. He tried to save his family. If that isn’t Crosshair trying to do better and holding himself accountable then I don’t know what is.

Ultimately, I think when people want someone to hold Crosshair accountable, they are missing a part of his humanity and they assume he must want all that has happened. It’s like they think someone must dish out justice because surely he doesn’t realize how badly he screwed up, but Crosshair knows he messed up and now he has to reckon with it. Assigning the Rebellion or some person or group the job of holding him accountable only furthers the us versus them that cults instill into their members. It will only push him away further. Do you want to know what happened between me and the people who felt I needed to be held accountable for my time in a cult (that I was born into, just like the clones)? I never spoke to them again and I had one less person offering support as I tried to build some semblance of a life. The few threads of connection that I had were ultimately severed because they felt I hadn’t gone through enough.

Let Crosshair go on this journey. Let him try to do what is right, because he’s well on his way. Let him grieve for all that has happened and all he’s done. Because I promise, he’s grieving. He’s lonely and guilting himself to his core. It’s written all over his face.

#tbb crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair #tbb #tbb meta #the empire is a cult #when i don't know whether to post something on its own or reply with it so i do both i guess #the bad batch crosshair #cw cult mention #cw cult #cw cult recovery

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xoxobuckybarnes · 4 months

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December 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

Treading Water (Rated: M, Words: 274K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first. ***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

Without You Here, We Are A Worse Version of Who We've Been (Rated: T, Words: 10K) by endlesstwanted / @endlesstwanted & art by Estelior / @estelior

Summary: Bucky has to plan how to do his physical therapy when, by chance, he finds therapist and gym owner Steve’s videos on YouTube. Located two blocks away and encouraged by his roommate, Bucky goes and meets Steve, gets the help he didn’t know he needed, and a couple of things more in the way.

you can't touch this (Rated: E, Words: 7K) by Kalee60 / @kalee60

Summary: Bucky had always been tactile, always shown his affection through touch and a closeness that generally drove Steve crazy. And it would have been totally fine - if Steve wasn’t head over heels in love with him. But he was - and Steve wasn’t sure what to do about it. Or the five times over the years Bucky touched Steve's ass and the one time Steve touched Bucky's.

For Steve (Rated: E, Words: 6K) by stuckytoyoulikeglue (malfoys_minx)

Summary: When Steve is awoken in the early hours of Christmas morning by his drunk roommate trying to literally climb into his stocking, he doesn't know what to think. After all, just because Bucky happens to be the only thing he's ever really wanted for Christmas, doesn't mean that this year his wish is finally going to come true, no matter what his friend's intoxicated ramblings might suggest...

Bucky Barnes and the Christmas Spirit (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by this_wayward_life

Summary: Bucky's never celebrated Christmas. Steve sets out to change that.

'tis the damn season by (Rated: M, Words: 10K) by captainswit

Summary: Steve Rogers is a hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor. He’s had four indie movies released in the past couple of years, has won awards (even if they have all been People’s Choice awards, the Oscars is next!), and has a blockbuster action movie coming to theaters in a few weeks. He's home for the holidays and he's missed his hometown of Lehigh, and one inhabitant of Lehigh in particular, his former best friend and old flame, Bucky Barnes. 'Tis the season for baked goods, holiday parties, and awkward encounters.

Home is the Human Heart (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by aimmyarrowshigh

Summary: The number of people who will be crowded into the Common Room makes Bucky’s skin feel too tight. “I don’t think I want to go.” “Well, that’s okay, Buck.” Steve’s eyebrows draw in the middle like it’s not actually. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” He pauses. “Do you mind if I still go?” “Why would you go?” Bucky does mind, a little. He likes being alone with Steve better than being alone without him. “You aren’t Jewish.” -- Or, Bucky and Steve and two Hanukkahs: one in 1930 and one in 2015.

All I Want For Christmas Has Been You for More Than Seventy Years (Rated: E, Words: 9K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: It's Bucky's first Christmas back with Steve in 70 years, just a year since he's come to live with him and the Avengers. Steve's taking him away from the city for the occasion. Bucky assumes it's for his own safety; just in case the hustle and bustle of the New York Christmas Season triggers some of the Winter Soldier tendencies he's been fighting and learning to overcome. Bucky doesn't mean to take this impromptu trip personally. Doesn't want to be upset. But he's recently recalled and redeveloped his feelings for Steve. Feelings he never shared with him. Feelings he has no idea if Steve shares, so being alone with his super soldier buddy might not be something he's ready for. Only Steve's reasons for taking Bucky away might not be so black and white--or red and green as it may be. Christmas songs, snowball fights, ugly Christmas sweaters, confessions, and Bucky wrapped up in Christmas lights.

The Last Boyfriend (series) by Brenda / @brendaonao3

All Mixed Up (Rated: G, Words: 3K) Summary: Oh God, she was probably someone's wife or mother or something and he'd just made things ten times more awkward and – "Oh, I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought –" Then a large, masculine, warm hand slid into his, and a low, very male voice said: "Nat, you love new friends, don't be rude." "James, really?" "Yes, really." The hand in Steve's gently tugged. "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee; you can be friends with me instead." Holiday Themed Meet Cute, based on this Tumblr prompt The Last Boyfriend (Rated: T, Words: 6K) Summary: "Oh wow, you, um..." Steve's eyes, so large and beautiful and the same dark-blue of the twilight sky, widened behind the black frames of his glasses as he stopped in front of their small group. "You're here." Bucky nodded in lieu of speaking. He didn't think he could make a sound if his life depended on it. And if he could, he was sure it would be some babbling combination of God you're gorgeous and I want to kiss you until your glasses fog up. Which probably wouldn't help his cause of trying to behave like an actual human being and not a total disaster. Or: Bucky and Steve have the fluffiest and most adorkable first date ever. Forever's A Good Place to Start (Rated: T, Words: 2K) Summary: Exactly one year after Bucky and Steve's first meeting at Gregory's Coffee, Bucky keeps his promise. AKA, the fluffy proposal fic that everyone voted for on Tumblr. :D

i've got a lot to pine about (Rated: M, Words: 6K) by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) / @cable-knit-sweater

Summary: Bucky loves Christmas, always has. Steve, however, his friend and fellow medical resident, struggles a little more during the holidays, especially now he doesn't have any family left. Bucky does his best to try to cheer him up a little and make sure that Steve will feel some of the holiday cheer. Thing is though, they're not just friends or colleagues. They've been hooking up for months, almost a year, and Bucky isn't sure how he's going to keep his feelings to himself for much longer. Because to him, this thing they have stopped being something casual a long time ago.

Found My Place in Time (Rated: E, Words: 12K) by humapuma / @humapuma & art by Cap_D

Summary: “Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?” - In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Podfics

it's been a long, long time (Rated: NR) by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

Summary: The Asset returns to the man's apartment three days after pulling him from the river.

A Place Called Home (Rated: T) by roseszain

Summary: New Years Eve. Suits. Party at Stark's place. Honesty happens.

WIP

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 82K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included. ***Part of the series A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy): The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) (Rated: G, words: 4K), Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) (Rated: G, Words: 14K), & Not Language by a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) (Rated: E, Words: 20K)***

a league of our own(Rated: E, Current Words: 36K) by burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: Steve’s sixteen-year-old son’s one and only dream is to play in the Major League. He thinks he has a shot when the team get a new coach, retired MLB legend and Steve’s high school crush, Bucky Barnes. Steve hasn’t thought of the man in many years, but seeing him brings back many memories that push Steve to reach out to an old friend and maybe make new ones on the way. What happens when Steve gets to know Bucky properly? What happens when they open up about their darkest secrets and deepest fears? There’s really only one thing that can happen.

Every Me and Every You (Rated: M, Current Words: 5K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best. He's getting by after the blip, after Sam became Captain America, after Steve...well, it's best he doesn't think about that. The point is, his life is different now, and he's trying his best. He just wishes the hollow feeling in his chest would go away. ----- Bucky gets blinded by a bright light as the tear seems to implode in on itself and there’s an odd little jolt as the pulling stops, and then Bucky’s blinking, trying to get his vision right again as he loosens his grip on America. “You okay?” he checks, still squinting. He’s probably not blind, he thinks. It just feels like it right now. “I’m okay,” America tells him and he sees her nod shakily as his vision starts to clear, and he carefully lets go of her, seeing that she can support herself, hands pressing onto the floor next to her. “Uh…I don’t think I am,” says another voice, and Bucky turns his head so fast he might give himself whiplash. Because he knows that voice. He knows that voice better than any other voice on the planet and he’s missed that voice, so, so much.

hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) (Rated: E, Current Words: 75K) by buckyismybicycle / @buckyismybicycle

Summary: Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong. PS - you do not need to know hockey for this, I promise.

Rereads

it always leads to you in my hometown (Rated: E, Words: 37K) by pineappleyogurt (musicforlife101)

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to talk about life in LA. Or the icy numbness in his chest. Or how shattered he is without Steve. Or how he doesn't know who he is anymore. Or the supposed choices he has to come home. But when Steve calls him babe out of habit, he decides to let him. At least for the weekend. It's a lesson in choices and consequences and finally figuring out what's important. -- You can't unmake a choice. Decisions in life aren't like making a bed or choosing a path. You made it, it's done. You don't unmake it or remake it like a do over. You just make a different choice and live with those consequences. Each day is a choice. And the consequences, good or bad, of staying here aren't the same as the consequences of coming back. Just like the consequences of leaving aren't the same as the consequences of staying gone.

#Stucky #Steve and Bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #fanfic #XOXOBUCKYBARNES' Stucky Fic Reading List #december reading list

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