#tumblr mobile ate this post the first time i tried posting it but it was in the cache on my laptop so it's back!

[yardsards]

the flowers in the parasite car are tulips and that's gotta mean SOMETHING, right? like you can't have a character named tulip have such a big impact on your protagonist and then just include tulip flowers without it meaning anything

(unless the writers did that by accident bc to be fair it took me this long to put two and two together. but they put so much thought into backgrounds and meanings that i don't think something like this would be unintentional)

but i cannot for the life of me figure out WHAT it symbolizes. something about being controlled??? someone better at literary analysis please help me

#typing this all out AGAIN bc tumblr mobile ATE IT the first time!!! #infinity train #infinity train book 2 #the parasite car #lake infinity train #tulip olsen #eliot posts #intr #sidenote on that first screenshot #i took multiple tries to get a screenshot of JUST the background #and i DID IT #but ended up not using it because that shot of lake and jesse is adorable

[amirosebooks]

Dean’s Old Yeller Principle

“He made me so mad at first that I wanted to kill him. Then, later, when I had to kill him, it was like having to shoot some of my own folks. That’s how much I’d come to think of the big yeller dog.”

— Fred Gipson, Old Yeller, Chapter 1 (Published in 1942)

When I was twelve or thirteen my English teacher passed out copies of Old Yeller as assigned reading. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, the quote above from the opening chapter tells you most everything you need to know for the context of this meta post. And for those of us who are still emotionally scarred from the damned book, I’m sorry for dredging up those memories.

Now, before I go any further, a disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, this meta and interpretation of canon is my own. I’m not trying to “preach” to anyone about why Dean “is allowed” to be an asshole while he’s grieving or going through some shit. Or any other argument that consistently gets thrown back in the face of meta posts like this whenever Dean is being an emotional dick. You’re entitled to your interpretations, feelings and reactions, as am I. I’m merely offering this meta to 1) get it out of my mind 2) point and wave about the nods to this classic book that’s traumatized generations of American children 3) cheer Dean on for turning yet another teaching from the “older, wiser generation” John came from on its head.

Groovy? Okay, now we can move on.

I’m gonna throw the rest of this under the cut for length and to keep people who are sensitive to pets / animals dying in really sad ways from having their days ruined by talking more about the book unless they’re good with having that happen.

Now, as I said in my disclaimer bit, Old Yeller is largely considered classic literature here in the states. My memories of it are a weird mix of vague on the details and strong on the emotions it evoked. From what I remember, the main character was a young teenager when his family brought home Yeller. For whatever reason, our main character hated this dog. I don’t remember the details and they’re honestly not important to this meta. The hate he felt toward the dog is important. So is the fact that the hate slowly turned into love and devotion to the dog. Which made it even more gutting when, on a hunting trip (if I remember correctly) Yeller was bitten by a rabid animal and contracted rabies.

At the end of the novel, the Coates family are once again attacked by a wild animal, a wolf, and saved by Yeller’s bravery. Yeller is bit during the attack and becomes infected with rabies. Travis knows that despite his connection to Yeller and Yeller’s protection of his family, the dog must be killed before it becomes fully rabid and does any harm to him and his family. As the man of the house while his father is gone, Travis takes it upon himself to put Yeller out of his misery with his hunting rifle. Travis is heartbroken by what he has done, but knows that it was the right thing to do for his family. (From here.)

Sound familiar? Good. That’s what I thought too when we got the shot above in the graveyard in 14x20.

[Obviously, rabies, once there are symptoms like Yeller had, is incurrable, so putting him down was literally the only option. And we are talking here about Supernatural, which operates on soap opera rules so anything goes, but let’s just roll with the similarities for the sake of argument.]

I remember telling my husband while we were watching it “Dude, they’re really going to Old Yeller Jack, omg.” (I even made fanart of the moment.)

And then, something incredible happened.

Dean threw out the script yet again and set off season 15 with the dull thud of a gun being tossed into the grass.

Now, I hear you. “That’s great, Ami. Why should we care?”

Lemme tell you a thing, friend.

In order to tell you thing thing, I want to take a trip way back to season 4. Back when the brothers were still nose deep into John Winchester’s gospel of Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

(Screencaps are all from Home of the Nutty.)

4x21 - When the Levee Breaks

Sam: Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me.

Dean: No. You don’t know what you’re doing, Sam.

Sam: Yes, I do.

Dean: Then that’s worse.

Sam: Why? Look, I’m telling you-

Dean: Because it’s not something that you’re doing, it’s what you are! It means- Dean cuts himself off.

Sam: What? No. Say it. (Sam has tears in his eyes.)

Dean: It means you’re a monster. (Transcript from here.)

I remember the first time I watched the show and I got to this episode. That fucking line was such a gut punching moment. And it was such an effective and emotional moment that Ruby was able to extend it later to further manipulate Sam.

Now, the screencap I grabbed for this moment is of Dean in tears (well, that single man tear he’s known for) after labelling Sam a monster for a reason. I want to remind all of us of just how much it killed Dean to have to use that label for Sam. To have to try to rationalize that the boy he raised, his brother, the guy who has been there forever and has always been Dean’s charge to take care of is now the thing that Dean is going to have to put down because he falls under the label of monster.

You know what, let’s go back a little farther, to the first episode of season 2. To this moment:

Remember this look? The one we later learned was thanks to John telling Dean that Dean was going to need to put Sam down? That Sam was going to become a monster? Yeah, ouch.

I added the year Old Yeller was published (1942) to the quote at the top of this meta to help give some context about the time it was written and the world it was released into. I’d also like to make note that in 1957 (or about a year before Henry Winchester jumped forward in time to meet the brothers in season 8 and give them keys to the bunker and had to choose to abandon John when John was still a fairly young boy) Disney released a movie version of the book. It’s absolutely, if the movie exists in the SPN world, the kind of thing young John would have watched and taken some kind of black and white moral guidance from.

It’s the kind of book/movie that John would have probably (note, this is where we start diving into my own headcanons for a moment) made sure the boys were aware of when he started thinking about bringing them on hunts to keep them from freezing because the “person” on the other end of their shotgun is someone’s mom. I could see it being the kind of thing he’d use as a way to show them both that, yes, shit is hard but you have to do the right thing and sometimes that means killing the thing you love. At least, I could picture him thinking that way. (Also, this still makes me wonder about exactly how early John started suspecting there was something different about Sam, but that’s a whoooole other post.)

Moving on and forward to season 6.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King

Castiel: The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house – he got a few things wrong.

Dean: Well, it’s too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn’t it? Why are you here?

Castiel: I want you to understand.

Dean: Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?

Castiel: I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you.

Dean: Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me.

Castiel: You’re the one who taught me that freedom and free will –

Dean: You’re a freakin’ child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn’t mean that you get to do whatever you want!

Castiel: I know what I’m doing, Dean.

Dean: I’m not gonna logic you, okay? I’m saying don’t… Just ‘cause. I’m asking you not to. That’s it.

Castiel: I don’t understand.

Dean: Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family – that you are like a brother to me. So, if I’m asking you not to do something… You got to trust me, man.

Castiel: Or what?

Dean: Or I’ll have to do what I have to do to stop you.

Castiel: You can’t, Dean. You’re just a man. I’m an angel.

Dean: I don’t know. I’ve taken some pretty big fish. (Transcript from here.)

This was after two seasons of Cas fighting by their side. Two seasons of Cas giving heaven the middle finger on behalf of the Winchesters. It was enough time for Dean’s first reaction in a time of confusion on a hunt was to call Cas for help. And it was enough time for Dean to go from assuming Cas was a demon summoned with “bad mojo” to drag him out of hell on behalf of Sam to genuinely starting to care about Cas.

Dean did threaten to take Cas out here if he persisted down the path he was on, but you can tell by the rest of the conversation and just how hard it was to convince Dean that Cas was lying to them that Dean was hoping talking would work and he wouldn’t be forced to put Cas down.

Unfortunately…

6x22 - The Man Who Knew Too Much

Castiel: You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.

Dean: Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry. Now let’s just defuse you, okay?

Castiel: What do you mean?

Dean: You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.

Castiel: Oh no, they belong with me.

Dean: No, Cas, it’s it-it’s scrambling your brain.

Castiel: No, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely.

Dean: Listen to me. Listen, I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you… Please. I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too. You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.

Castiel: You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid. (Behind him, Sam picks up the angel killing sword.) You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family. (Sam stabs Castiel in the back with the angel killing sword. Sam groans. Nothing happens. Castiel pulls the sword out. There’s no blood on it. He puts it down.) I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you. (Transcript from here.)

Again, Dean tried to argue with the overpowered angel, he tried bargaining, pleading, and appealing to Cas’s fondness for them, but it didn’t work. Sam was the one who was forced to try stabbing Cas and it… also didn’t work.

7x01 - Meet the New Boss

Sam: Dean, look, I know you think that Cas is gone –

Dean: It’s 'cause he is.

Sam: He’s not! He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it.

Dean: No, you don’t.

Sam: No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and never gave up on me.

Dean: Yeah, and it turns out that you’re about the Same open book as you’ve always been. Hallucinations? Really? I got to find out from Death?

Sam: What was I supposed to do?

Dean: How about not lie? How about tell me that you’ve got crazy crap climbing those walls?

Sam: Why? You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and – and I thought –what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.

Dean: What? What, exactly, is under control?

Sam: I know what’s real and what’s not.

Dean: Sam –

Sam: Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.

Dean: Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon p**n and act like the world’s about to explode because it is. Hey. You got to be kidding me. “Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench-coated man.” There’s security footage. Well, I think reaching Cas is, uh… out of the cards. (Transcript from here. And hopefully my slight censoring the last paragraph keeps tumblr from blacklisting this post into the aether…)

Here’s a sad thought for you, how often do you think–while Cas was terrorizing the country as Godstiel and, later, after he walked into the lake and exploded into Leviathan goo–Dean thought about how he should have listened to Bobby and Sam and taken Cas out before he had the chance to swallow the Leviathans and become super powered? Probably a lot, I’d guess.

This moment, as much as I, personally, hate seasons 6 and 7, went pretty damn far to reinforce this Old Yeller principle in Dean’s moral code.

He had to sit back and watch, literally, while someone he cared about went out of their goddamn mind with power while killing and terrorizing people. He had to do that knowing that there was a moment when he could have done something to prevent it. He could have killed Cas when he had him locked up in the ring of holy fire and they were having one of their many breakup moments.

Dean felt like he could have stopped all of this, but he’d been weak and tried talking it out first instead. And you can’t convince me that he didn’t check the news and every drop of blood Godstiel brought about to the blood on his own hands because of that choice to give Cas a chance to see reason.

10x09 - The Things We Left Behind

CASTIEL: How are you, Dean?

DEAN: Fine. [Cas gives him a look.] I’m great!

CASTIEL: No, you’re not.

DEAN: Yeah, well, I lost the black eyes, so that’s a plus. But I still have this. [Dean reaches over and gently slaps the Mark on his arm.]

CASTIEL: Is the Mark of Cain still affecting you?

[Dean flashes back to his dream from earlier, of the blood covering him, the dead bodies lying around him.]

CASTIEL: Dean?

[Dean blinks hard, coming back to the present.]

DEAN: Cas, I need you to promise me something.

CASTIEL: Of course.

DEAN: If I do go dark side, you got to take me out.

CASTIEL: What do you mean?

DEAN: Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.

(Transcript from here.)

I may hate seasons 6 and 7, but holy damn do I love season 10. I know it’s not a favorite among many people in the fandom, but it’s one of mine.

This moment, this burger date of sadness and pain, is a big favorite for me. Dean sees the writing on the wall. He’s been a Knight of Hell now. He’s been as darkside as he can get. He’s, likely, being reminded daily of his time in Hell in the last ten years of his stay there where he was torturing souls. And he’s begging Cas to keep him from returning to that place. He’s begging Cas to adopt the Old Yeller principle because he sees it as the only option left if the mark consumed him again. And that kills me.

Let’s take another jump forward to season 13, where Dabb & Co really started putting Dean’s Old Yeller principle into text in a heavy, purposeful way.

13x02 - The Rising Son

SAM Dean, wait a second. (Sighs) The kid came through for us today. Jack saved us.

DEAN No. No, whatever that was, that was a reflex. It was a sneeze. Maybe next time he sneezes, he kills us. Good night.

[DEAN hears a clacking sound coming from a distance. He follows the noise to JACK’s room.] JACK Ah!

[DEAN finds JACK trying to stab himself with a blade. The wounds immediately heal.]

DEAN Okay. What the hell?  (he gets in the room) Give me that. You—Don’t be an idiot. Look, A, this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B, you… What the hell?

JACK Exactly. What the hell am I? I can’t control… whatever this is. I will hurt someone.

DEAN You know, my brother thinks you can be saved.

JACK You don’t believe that.

DEAN No, I don’t.

JACK So… if you’re right?

DEAN If I’m right… and it comes to killing you… I’ll be the one to do it.

[DEAN leaves.]

(Transcript from here.)

Can I just bask in the glory of the grieving widow!Dean arc from the beginning of 13 for a moment? I’d also like to take a moment to 🙌 Jack for being a wonderful Team Free Will mirror (and mimic) from the word go.

Ahhh…

Okay, moving on.

I loved this bit in 13x02 so much. Partially because it’s such a heavy handed foreshadow to 14x20, but also because it shows so clearly how good Jack is at reading the emotions in the room. He’s, like, three days old at that point, but he’s already having an existential crisis about whether or not he’s evil. He already understands (yes, thanks to jackass grieving widow!Dean…) the whole Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

He also shows that he understands the Old Yeller principle. And, for better or worse, he and Dean reach an unspoken agreement here about it. (Again, this is my reading. Your mileage may vary.)

13x04 - The Big Empty

JACK I’m afraid.

MIA/KELLY Why? Why are you afraid?

JACK Sam thinks you were right, that—that I’m good. He wants me to believe it, and I wanna believe it, too. It’s just, I… I’ve hurt people. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. And I know I should feel bad, and I say I feel bad, but most of the time, I mostly… I don’t feel anything. And that’s why I think maybe… Maybe I’m a monster.

MIA/KELLY Jack. It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what you do. And even monsters can do good in this world.

JACK You really believe that?

MIA/KELLY I have to. I have to.

[MIA hugs JACK again.]

(Trancript from here.)

Killing me would be kinder than subjecting me to these feelings so soon after being introduced to this fucking character. Omg. Poor Jack.

Now, yes, a huuuuge part of Jack’s opinion of monsters and the whole “What do we do with monsters children? That’s RIGHT, we kill them.” thing is because Dean is an asshole when he’s emotional and grieving and deep into survival mode.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that Jack is still worried about the fact that he doesn’t feel things the way that everyone else seems to. That he has powers no one, including him, can understand. And that he’s killed people without meaning to. He’s afraid of himself just like Dean was afraid of what he was capable of if the mark took him over again.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

(Sam continues down the hallway while Dean turns to another hallway and approaches his bedroom door. He stops as if to listen to something and then continues down the hall, away from his bedroom door. He enters Jack’s room, where Jack is sleeping and talking in his sleep)

JACK Stop! No!

DEAN Jack? (Dean touches Jack’s shoulder to wake him) Hey. (Jack jumps up, anxious and disoriented. Dean holds out his hand towards Jack to calm him) Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. You’re just having a bad dream.

JACK (breathing heavily) Sorry.

DEAN It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I have 'em, too. All the time.

JACK You do?

DEAN Sure.

JACK You, um… What do you see?

DEAN Well, depends. Mostly…mostly people I couldn’t save.

JACK Me, too. Over there in the other world, I said I’d protect those people. But…I saw so many of them die. And…I tried to save them. I…I tried, but… I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.

DEAN Jack… (Dean sits on the edge of Jack’s bed) it’s not about being strong. I mean… Look, I don’t know what you saw over there, and I don’t know what you went through. I know it was bad. But I also know that you came out the other side because you are strong. But even when we’re strong, man, things are gonna happen. We’re gonna make mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. Right? But we can get better. Every day, we can get better. So whatever you’re dealing with, you know, whatever…whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it, together. You’re family, kid, and we look after our own.

(Transcript from here.)

It’s not about being strong. IT’S NOT ABOUT BEING STRONG.

This is where we veer away from Old Yeller a tiny bit because, again, in the book Yeller had rabies which they could do nothing about.

The moments I’ve highlighted in this post all come back to one motivation. The overpowered person/angel/asshole in question was trying to gain enough strength through supernatural (lol) means in order to have the power to destroy a (perceived) bigger threat than whatever the cost was to get that power.

Sam’s demon blood drinking was supposed to give him the power to destroy Lucifer and get revenge for Mary and John and their lost childhood. It went badly and earned Sam the label of monster and falling, at least temporarily, into the territory of the Old Yeller principle.

Cas started lying to the brothers and working with Crowley so they could gain the power to stop heaven from starting yet another apaocalypse. Cas wanted to keep the Winchesters (Dean) safe from being destroyed in a holy war after being forced to fight his brother to the death. Again, this did not go well and lead to Cas succumbing to the Leviathans’s power and dying front of Dean after losing the Winchester’s trust.

Dean took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, the evil that made John grow up without a father. It left him torn between going on a, essentially, soulless killing spree or becoming a Knight of Hell… again.

Hell, even the way Jack came into the world was fraught with Sam lying to Dean about working with the BMoL to have the power and strength to defeat Lucifer/the nephilim. Not to mention the months of lying Cas did after he decided that Jack’s power and strength was the only way they could destroy Lucifer once and for all. Again, this ended with Cas dying in front of Dean and the BMoL trying to exterminate everyone including the American hunters.

That’s the lesson Dean is trying to instill (hypocritically, let’s be honest) to Jack here. Strength and power come at a terrible cost and if you can solve a problem without resorting to that level of fuckery that things will be better.

And, also, that if things do go bad, that Jack is family and “we look after our own.” To Dean, this is where the Old Yeller principle kicks in. It is, in a rather fucked up but well earned way, the best option he knows for making sure another one of his loved ones doesn’t fall under that monster label. That none of them end up with more blood on their hands or bringing about the end of the world, again, because of their soap opera problems.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK I’m sorry.

(Jack walks towards the exit and Castiel goes to follow him)

CASTIEL Jack!

(Dean grabs Castiel’s arm)

DEAN No, hey, just – just let him go.

(Jack is walking through the woods, banging a closed fist into his hand and punching his shoulder)

JACK You keep hurting people! You keep… (Jack flashes back to all the people he has hurt with his powers – Nate, Sam, Dean, the female police officer) hurting… (flash to the male sheriff) (yelling) Why do you keep hurting people?!

(Transcript from here.)

This lesson, the lesson of power and strength not being the best answer because of the cost it comes with is not an easy one to learn. Especially when you were born as a superpowered, emotional Winchester by adoption. Life is scary when that’s the hand you’ve been dealt and using the power you have is an appealing balm to combat that fear.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK (moving towards Lucifer, eyes glowing and hand outstretched)Tell me the truth!

(Lucifer’s eyes start to glow, his head tilts to the side and he starts speaking)

LUCIFER She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed, and then…so I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet, and I liked it.

(Lucifer’s eyes return to normal and he looks confused)

JACK You’re not my father. You’re a monster.

LUCIFER (yelling) Come on, man! (Lucifer bellows so forcibly that Sam and Dean cover their ears, his eyes glowing red) Okay. I tried with you. I really tried with you.

JACK Everything you told me was a lie.

LUCIFER Because I told you what you wanted to hear, man. So what?! I killed the girl! Big deal! She’s a – she’s a human! She doesn’t matter!

JACK So am I!

LUCIFER Yeah? And that’s your problem. (pointing at Jack) You’re too much like your mother.

(Transcript from here.)

To me, this moment reads as Jack embracing that black and white Winchester thinking. He has yet (even now that’s he’s currently dead in season 15) to grasp the concept of people being morally gray. He sees himself as either embracing the monster side of himself from his bio dad or rejecting that side of himself to embrace Kelly’s human side. The side that can’t hurt people on accident. The side that makes him more like the Winchesters. Because he doesn’t want to fall under than monster label. He doesn’t want to fall under that Old Yeller principle. He doesn’t want to hurt so many people that he will have to die because neither he or anyone else can control him.

Yes, this moment is FAR more complicated than just that, but it’s definitely part of it.

14x10 - Nihilism

DEAN Sam said that one of your reapers really came through with the assist. I’m thinking that was probably you.

BILLIE Don’t tell anyone.

DEAN You broke the rules.

BILLIE I took a calculated risk. I warned you about the dangers of jumping from world to world. But you ignored me, didn’t you?

DEAN Rescuing Mom and Jack, helping out those other folks – I’d say it was worth it.

BILLIE And just look at you now. Do you remember visiting my reading room? The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die?

DEAN Yeah. Upbeat classics.

BILLIE Well, it’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten. They all end the same way now – with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.

DEAN All of them?

BILLIE All of them. Except one.

(Billie hands Dean a book. He opens it and then looks at her, stunned)

DEAN What am I supposed to do with this?

BILLIE That’s up to you.

(Dean looks at the book again and when he looks up, Billie is gone. He looks back at the book and then looks around, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face)

(Transcript from here.)

Remember what I said about Dean being well aware of the price that has to be paid in exchange for the power and strength to defeat supposedly unbeatable enemies?

Yeah… Dean “knows” that the time has come for him to call his own bluff. The one from all the way back in 10x09 (not that he was bluffing then, but he didn’t have to take action on it then) when he asked Cas to take him out. “Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever.”

We didn’t know that was what this moment was until the next episode. But this is the moment when the Old Yeller principle went into effect again. And you can see how much it hurts Dean, how resigned and heartbroken he is over it.

14x11 - Damaged Goods

DEAN It’s a Ma’lak box. [DEAN closes the door to the box. He and SAM are standing over it.] Secured and warded. Once inside… nothing gets out, not even an archangel. Especially an archangel.

SAM Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve – I’ve read about these, but – but no one’s ever – they’re impossible to build.

DEAN Yeah, well, not so much.

SAM That’s your plan? You want to be buried alive?

DEAN Buried’s not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash.

SAM You and Michael, trapped together – for eternity?

DEAN Yeah.

SAM You do realize how insane this is, right?

DEAN It’s the only sane play I’ve got. Michael gets out, that’s it for this world. And he will get out.

SAM Well, how do you know that for sure?

DEAN Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving.

SAM But there has to be another way.

DEAN There’s not, okay? There – Sam you’ve tried. Cas has tried. Jack… And I love you for trying. But none of it’s gonna work.

SAM We don’t know that.

DEAN Yeah, we do.

SAM What?

DEAN Billie.

SAM Billie?

DEAN She paid me a little visit. She said that there’s only one way this ends right. And this is it. This, right here, this box. So, she gave up the special recipe, and all I had to do was the work. It’s fate.

SAM Since when do we believe in fate?

DEAN Now, Sam. Since now.

(Transcript from here.)

Here is the moment. The one where Dean was at his absolute lowest. When he hit that point where resignation about his fate met having to act on his principles. 

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

DEAN Well, I will call this a win. Kinda nice. Going out on a high. SAM “Going out” being the operative phrase. DEAN Sorry. SAM “Sorry.” How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, a-after I’ve looked up to you, after I’ve learned from you, I-I-I’ve copied you, I followed you to Hell and back… are you sorry that all of that it – it – it means nothing now? DEAN Who’s saying that? SAM You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you’re telling me that I have to just throw away everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We’re the guys who saved the world. We don’t just check out of it! [SAM pushes DEAN.] DEAN Sam, I have tried everything. Everything! I got one card left to play and I have to play it. SAM You have one card today! But we’ll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don’t know what else to do. I don’t either, Dean. Not yet. But what you’re doing now, i-it’s – it’s wrong! It’s quitting! I mean, l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. [SAM moves closer to DEAN.] I believe in us, Dean. [DEAN doesn’t say anything. SAM gets angry and punches DEAN in the face.] I believe in us. [SAM tries to punch DEAN again, but he stops him.] DEAN Hey, hey, hey, hey! [SAM hugs DEAN.] SAM Why don’t you believe in us, too? DEAN Okay, Sam. Let’s go home. SAM What? [SAM pulls away from the hug.] DEAN Let’s go home. Maybe Billie’s wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.

(Transcript from here.)

And just like Dean predicted in 10x09, Sam was able to talk him out of sacrificing himself. How was he able to do that? By reminding Dean that they were the fucking Winchesters. They fucked with the cosmic balance constantly and always, always found another way. A way to avoid the Old Yeller principle. A way to live and fight again.

Which, they totally did, but the price of not throwing Dean into the ocean for an eternity of alone time with alt!Michael banging away in his head was their adopted child.

14x20 - Moriah

JACK: You’re not gonna lock me up again, are you?

DEAN: No.

(Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack)

SAM: Dean? Dean!

JACK: (to Dean) I understand.

(Sam is still running, yelling for Dean. The music is getting more suspenseful as Dean holds his aim steady at Jack)

SAM: Dean, don’t! Dean? Dean!

JACK: I know what I’ve done.

SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Dean! Hey, hey, hey! Dean!

DEAN: Stay back, Sam!

SAM: (Panting)

JACK: And you were right all along. (Chuck comes up alongside Sam) I am a monster.

SAM: (to Chuck) Do something. … You’re enjoying this.

CHUCK: Shh.

(Dramatic music plays)

(Dean cocks the gun. He looks Jack in the eye for several seconds and then slowly lowers the gun. At this point, Castiel also comes running towards the area)

(Dean uncocks the gun and tosses it to the side)

(Transcript from here.)

I have yet to rewatch this episode, but from what I remember I don’t think it had completely sunk in to Dean in that moment of choice that Chuck was there revealing that he was invested in the outcome of this showdown between Dean and Jack. In that moment, that split second of choice between following through with what he’d believed for so long for following through with an extension of the order John gave him about Sam back in the hospital back in 2x01, Dean made a choice for himself. And that choice was to believe that they’d find another way. He decided that when it came right down to it, he couldn’t kill his child for making the same bargain for power and strength that he himself had made multiple times over the last 14 seasons.

He was also directly confronted with a similar situation to that from the end of season 6 and beginning of 7 with Cas and the Leviathans, in that when it really came down to it, he wasn’t capable of murdering someone he considered family.

And then Chuck had to go and erase any chance they had in following up on that. He killed Jack so that they didn’t have a chance to find a way to help Jack balance the power he’d absorbed from destroying Michael or living without his soul.

So yeah, from where we sit now with only one episode of season 15 under our belts waiting with baited breath to see where the rest of this end of the road season takes us, it makes sense that Dean, of all people, would be in the middle of an emotional fucking collapse. And that he would be a huge, whiny, pissbaby douchebag about it because that’s the Dean Winchester way.

Does that make his behavior okay? No, of course not. But does that turn any of the rest of them into saints? Nope, of course not. And I, personally, wouldn’t have it any other way. I like that they’re flawed and fucked up and keep getting back up and going back to each other and keep trying. That’s why we’ve had 15 goddamn seasons of this. Because it’s what they do.

#15x01 #spn spoilers #spn parallels #jack kline #dean winchester #spn meta #season 15 #jack the nougat nephilim #my spn meta #tumblr mobile ate this post the first time i tried posting it but it was in the cache on my laptop so it's back!

[possibly-not-a-ghost]

Now, I’m not saying eating people is morally justifiable (Or whatever the Distortion actually does to them because simple death doesn’t seem Weird Enough) but props to Helen for her eventual radical acceptance of her state of existence.

#tma #the magnus archives #helen Richardson #Brooke posts stuff #tumblr mobile promptly ate the first time I tried to post this but I will not be silenced (I'm also still tired) #if this posts twice that means mobile ignored my opting to discard the post. Wouldn't be the first time

[handsoffmyfriends]

bees with noya pls 🥰

LOVE LETTERS

— youve been dating nishinoya yuu for a year today but your hope for a romantic evening was dashed when your boss held you back for overtime.

PAIRING: Nishinoya Yuu x F!Reader WORD COUNT: 1,091 WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff?

A/N: so this absolutely is not the first thought i had for this prompt. not a single aspect of this turned out originally how i had planned but i think its infinitely better this way i hope you like it sam! lets say this is my apology for making you do puffer jackets with noya

i put my trust into god and tried to post this mobile but tumblr ate like 3/4 of it so when i tried to repost as a draft it decided it was hungry anD ATE IT ALL SO MMM this is Take Two

Bees with Nishinoya - Cutest thing they've done for their S/O

You were approaching your one year anniversary with Nishinoya. You weren't expecting anything for the day, since you were tied up with work and you'd already discussed it with Yuu and agreed to have a belated celebration on the weekend.

What you had hoped to do was finish work on time and spend the evening doing what you normally would do with Yuu, but your boss had other ideas and you ended up working overtime. By the time you had finally made it home, you were hungry, tired and in such a bad mood you barely noticed the note on the kitchen bench.

You didn't live with your boyfriend, but he visited your apartment enough times that he had a key. And he had definitely been here, since the note was in his very distinctive scrawl.

Hey babygirl ♡

I wanted to be here to surprise you, but I guess you got held back at work again?

I left you a little something in the fridge :)

I love you!

You smiled at his barely legible note, your heart warmed at the thought of him being here, waiting for you to knock off. Your phone was dead, so you couldn't even message him yet. You put it on charge before doing as instructed, checking the fridge for the little something.

It was your favourite winter dish, sitting nice and inviting in a container with a folded piece of paper perched on the lid. You quickly popped it into the microwave, suddenly much hungrier than before. and read the new note as you waited.

My babygirl ♡

First off, I didn't cook this, so you don't have to worry about food poisoning. Momma Suga helped me out!

It's probably really late now, but you should go and have a nice, hot bath after you eat this. Trust me ;)

You giggled at the thought of Suga trying to teach Yuu how to cook. It wasn't that he was inherently bad at it, Yuu was just really impatient and lacked the focus most meals required. The man could barely stand still for five seconds, so it was a longshot for him to stand around in the kitchen for half an hour.

You briefly wondered if he meant Suga had also visited and just cooked the whole meal himself, or if Yuu had called him and had Suga try and instruct him on what to do. Either way, you really owed it to your best friend for humouring Yuu.

The meal really hit the spot; it warmed your belly and you were already feeling much more relaxed as opposed to when you first came home. Yuu's cute little notes had definitely helped with that, too.

As per Yuu's instruction, your next task was to take a bath. Sitting in the middle of the tub was another note, accompanied by a new bottle of bath soak. It was your favourite scent and upon closer inspection, it was the exact soak you had raved to Yuu about several weeks ago, but lamented at the price of it. It wasn't that you couldn't afford it, but you could be frugal when it came to luxury items, and a bath soak definitely fell under something you couldn't quite justify spending more than you needed to on.

Babygirl ♡

I bet you had one hell of a day. Enjoy your new soak! It smells amazing ;)

After this, you should probably call it a night. I don't know what time it is, but you've had a big day and there's nothing like going to bed just after a relaxing bath

I'll see you later ♡

You couldn't stop yourself from shedding a few tears at the thoughtful and romantic gesture. Yuu usually fell short when it came to genuine romance because he was a silly goofball (not that it ever bothered you), but seeing all the sweet things he had just done for you filled you with overwhelming love. You would have to spoil him rotten on the weekend for this.

The soak was just what you needed. You nearly fell asleep in the tub a few times. When you dozed off and slipped below the water line, shocking yourself into sitting up coughing and spluttering, you decided that was enough bath time.

You were thoroughly relaxed despite the near death experience and it was definitely time to call it a night. You sleepily toweled yourself dry, shucking on a loose shirt that had once belonged to Yuu. You don't remember when you had claimed it, but it was yours and there was nothing he could do to reclaim it now.

When you entered your bedroom, you damn near burst into tears.

There were candles lit everywhere, some cherry blossom petals littered around, but the most shocking thing was Yuu, sitting cross legged on your bed with a lavender rose between his teeth.

Your tears spurred him to his feet, rushing over to you with concern. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

Your tears turned to laughter. You pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him close for several moments before pulling away only to kiss him silly. You kissed his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his lips, not an inch of his face was safe from your onslaught of kisses.

"You've been here this whole time?" you accused, though the smile in your voice was impossible to mask. "Why didn't you just come out and see me?"

He blushed furiously. "Well, I wanted it all to be a surprise, and what better surprise at the end than me?"

You laughed, pulling him in for another kiss. "We weren't supposed to do anything today!"

He shrugged with indifference, pulling you towards the bed. "We didn't," he emphasised. "I did. I wanted to treat you like royalty, because that's what you are to me."

He didn't give you a chance to respond. He sat you on the edge of your bed as he fell down to one knee. Your heart either spiked or stopped, you couldn't tell because all your attention was on Yuu and the little box he pulled out. "Y/N, I know it's only been a year, but I can't imagine my life without you. Will you—"

"Yes!" you blurted before he could even finish, falling down on him and crashing the both of you onto the floor.

"You didn't let me finish!" he protested through laughter.

"Answer is still yes," you countered, showering him with even more kisses than before.

#haikyuu #nishonoya #noya #nishinoya x reader #noya x reader #nishinoya yuu #yuu #yuu x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #yuu nishinoya #karasuno boys #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #samanthaa-leanne #ask #fanfic #fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyu fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyu!! #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu!! fanfiction #haikyu!! fanfic #haikyuu imagines

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 6 Part 8

Part 7

Liam's phone rang. He ignored it and let it go to voicemail. When it rang again, he made a noise of disgust and took his phone out of his pocket to look at it. "It's my publicist. I had better take this."

Liam answered the phone and went outside to talk. I turned the oven on and started to unpack the groceries. Then I got the roast, put it in a baking tray, poured olive oil over the top and seasoned it with salt and some pepper. I got out some onions and garlic and started to cut them up to place around the roast to give it some added flavour.

"That looks great," Liam said when he came back in.

"Thanks," I said, and I gave him a grin. I took the tray and put it in the oven. I got my phone and put an alarm on, giving myself time to cook the veggies before they finished. A thought came to me, and before I could bite my tongue, I said, "They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Really?" Liam licked his lips, looked down at his pants and said, "I'd say they were aiming too high."

It took me a minute to work out what the joke was. When I finally did, I couldn't help but laugh and hide my face in my hands.

"You've gone so red!" Liam appeared to be having fun with my inability to control my blushes.

"Oh, my God!" I said, still hiding my face and laughing. "Alright, that was funny."

It took me a while to stop laughing. When I did, Liam said sombrely, "Sweetheart, I have to tell you something."

"Uh, oh, it doesn't sound good."

"It's not bad. I don't know how you will feel about it." Liam then told me that his publicist had called to let him know there were pictures put on Instagram and Twitter of the two of us kissing at the pub last night. "Your name hasn't been mentioned, and the photos look to be shot from pretty far away on a mobile, so someone in the pub took the pictures. Sarah says they probably aren't going to tell who you are by the pictures unless someone who knows you well comes forward."

I think if my eyes bulged out of my head any further, they would have fallen out and rolled on the floor. "That quick?" It was all I could think to say.

"Yeah. It's hard to know what will come out and when. A lot of times I go out, and no one notices me, but other times I have paps or members of the public following me for hours."

"Who's Sarah?"

"My publicist." Liam reached across the bench and took my hand in his. "Are you ok?"

"You say they don't know who I am?" Liam nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't happy but what was I going to do about it? I picked at my nails. I needed to paint them; the pale pink polish was starting to chip.

"You ok?" Liam asked again

I shrugged. "Your life is weird."

Liam chucked. "You keep telling me that."

"So, what happens now?"

"Well, usually Sarah would say to private all social media, but she had a look and said she could only find a Facebook profile for you which was already private. Do you have any others? Instagram? Twitter? Snapchat?"

"No. I have a YouTube account that I use to watch videos, but that isn't linked to my real name or email. Also, a Tumblr account, again not associated with my name. And no pictures of me."

"Tumblr?" He raised an eyebrow. His fucking lip twitched.

"I was a confused 22-year-old ok?" I said a bit defensively. "I haven't used it in years," I remembered then the dating site we met on. I quickly logged on and selected the options to hide the account.

"Ok, well, there's not much else right now. A few rags called Sarah for comment. She said the standard no comment and asked for my privacy to be respected. The rest is up to you."

"Up to me?" I asked, confused. "What's up to me?"

"When you want to confirm the relationship and release your name."

"Liam, I met you less than 24 hours ago and have known you only a few months. I'm not ready for that. I like you a lot, but maybe you pick your nose and eat it, and I'll have to dump your arse tomorrow and then it's been a big song and dance over nothing." I joked. The mood had gotten too heavy for me. I wanted to talk about something else.

"Sweetheart, I'd never do that." He smiled sweetly, "I'd make you eat it."

"Ewww!" I screamed.

"Get over here." He chased me around the bench, and after a few evasions and some more squeals, he caught me. Perrin came in through the doggy door and barked at Liam a few times. Our behaviour obviously scandalised him. "Perrin," I called. "Come here, boy."

"You think your dog can save you?"

"Of course, he's very protective of my honour."

"We will see about that." Liam bent over, and I thought he was going to tackle me. Instead of flying backwards, I was hoisted forward and found myself over his shoulder. I screamed as I heard a loud crack, my hands flying to my bum.

"Did you just smack my arse?" I must admit I was finding all the manhandling arousing. I wasn't going to let him know that, though.

"Yes, I did. Want another?" Liam was heading down the hallway, taking me to the bedroom.

I giggled. "No!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Liam quoted. Shakespeare sounded good with his accent. I giggled some more, and I got another one. Yes, very arousing.

Liam hummed. "I quite like the view here." He rubbed my bottom and took me into my bedroom.

I was very close to his round bum. "This view is not so bad either," I said and smacked his arse. Unfortunately, it probably hurt me more than it hurt him. His butt was tight!

Liam dropped me onto the bed at that point, and the look on his face was hysterical. I couldn't stop laughing, and tears were rolling down my face. Then I did the most embarrassing thing: I snorted.

That was it. Both of us couldn't stop. Every time I calmed enough to think I could speak, one look at Liam's face, and I'd be off again.

Eventually, we stopped, and I was able to say, "Oh my God, your face! That was so bloody funny." I wiped my eyes.

"I think that may have been the first time someone's done that to me."

"Really? Didn't you go to an all-boys school?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the US." Liam tried suppressing a grin as he said, "we got ball taps."

I tried not to laugh. I really did. "Oh, my God!" I was off again.

We watched the original Mad Max before I had to go and finish dinner. I was horrified when Liam said he hadn't seen it before. I immediately made him watch it. He said it was ok, the concept was great, but he didn't love it. I told him he needed a brain scan.

When I went to make dinner, Liam offered to help, but I told him not to be silly.

Liam sat at the kitchen bench chatting to me while I chopped and blanched the vegetables. After a while, he said he had to call Sarah and his assistant Ryan to make sure he had organised the dog walker to take Cole for a walk and play.

"Any update from Sarah?" I asked Liam when he returned. I feigned disinterest while I finished slicing the roast.

"All the same right now. Some sites have posted the pictures, saying I was spotted drinking with an "unknown female companion." The pictures have circulated a bit on Twitter, but it's mostly just by fans. They haven't hit the mainstream yet. It's all fairly standard, and it will go away by tomorrow by the looks of it."

"Good," I said. A look I couldn't interpret passed over Liam's face. He masked it pretty quickly. I opened my mouth to ask if he was ok but shut it again. I said, instead, "dinner's ready." I passed Liam his plate.

"Thank you," Liam said, leaning over to kiss me before eating. I watched as he cut up some beef and started chewing. "Pretty good. Almost as good as Mum's," he teased with a wink.

I elbowed him, and God bless him; he pretended it hurt.

We ate in silence for a while. I gave a few pieces to Perrin. He was so old, and I couldn't help but spoil him occasionally. He won't be around forever.

After dinner, Liam insisted on helping me clean up, and we stacked the dishwasher. Watching him bend over, his jeans straining as he put the plates in, stirred some feelings. Erotic feelings.

"Want to watch another movie?" He asked.

"Not really," I said. "I'm in the mood for some dessert."

"Ice-cream? I can't have any, but you can."

"Not ice-cream," I said, shaking my head. I looked at him with my very best bedroom eyes.

"What do you want then? Want me to go to the shops?" He said, not catching on. I put my arms around his waist. "If you let me borrow your car, I'll go. I can just go on my own."

"No, you wombat." I met his hips with mine, his eyes widened. "What I want is right here." I wriggled against him. Liam grinned widely, his cheeks creasing in such a sexy way.

"I thought you were shy."

"I am getting used to you," I said. "The real me is coming out." The truth of my words took me by surprise. I looked away, second-guessing myself. Why did I do that?

"I like her," Liam said hoarsely. If he hadn't spoken then, I think I would have stopped. But when his hands went into my hair, and he pulled, stretching my throat, I knew I wasn't going to stop. He kissed me there, and his teeth grazed my skin. My fingers reached under his shirt, and they gripped his back. My nails dug into his skin.

"Bedroom?" I whispered.

"Bedroom," he agreed and walked me backwards to my room.

"You promised me something earlier today," Liam said in between kisses. We were close to my bed.

"What's that?"

He stopped kissing me and cupped my face with his hands. "You said I could undress you."

Liam took hold of my t-shirt and waited. I nodded. He slowly lifted my shirt up and over my head before dropping it to the ground. He tilted his head as if contemplating and gently turned me around.

I felt Liam gather my hair and put it over my shoulder. He caressed my back with his fingertips, making me shiver with pleasure. I heard him give a satisfied hum before undoing my bra. He turned me around again and took hold of my bra straps, pulling them down my arms.

When I dropped my bra beside my shirt, Liam took a step back. He looked me up and down, his eyes hungry. I wanted to cover myself under his intense gaze, my earlier courage wavering under his scrutiny.

My arms started to move, and he gave me a stern look. "You're not thinking of hiding now, are you?"

I shook my head and forced my arms back by my sides. "Good, because I want to look. You're quite the sight." As if to emphasise his point, he adjusted himself through his pants. I felt a thrill of excitement flow through me and felt the familiar throbbing between my legs.

Liam got down on his knees and kissed my belly. His rough stubble tickled. "Your skin is so soft," he said in a low voice. He undid my jeans and kissed a trail down as he unzipped me. His breath was warm, and I felt it through the cotton of my briefs, his last kiss placed just above my slit.

It was almost agony. I moaned at his teasing breath and lips. Then Liam pulled down my underwear and kissed my mound. I felt his tongue part my lips, and when he found what he was looking for, he flattened his tongue and moaned into me.

I didn't know what to do. For a moment, I wanted to stop Liam, but it felt too good. I could feel my resolve waning. I didn't want to wait. Why should we wait? What was I waiting for? I had to stop thinking and go with it, enjoy him, enjoy the experience. I put my fingers in his hair as he licked and sucked at me. He seemed to remember what I liked, and soon I was close to my peak.

One of his fingers played at my entrance. I silently begged for Liam to put it in. My core was desperate to be filled. His finger slowly entered me, and I was lost. I needed him. At that moment, all I wanted was to feel more of him inside me, have him fill me.

I felt like this was the moment. If I don't ask Liam now, I probably never would. If I didn't want him now, why am I even allowing this to happen? I wanted him. He excited me like no one had done since Andy. He had knocked down the defences I'd built to keep myself alone. Keep me in my grief and guilt. I didn't want to be alone anymore. I wanted to feel desired again.

"Fuck me?" I asked. The words just tumbled out. I knew at that moment I would beg if I had to. "Please, Liam, I want you to fuck me."

I wasn't sure if Liam heard me. He increased his attention, and I felt the pressure building. His hand gripped my arse, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he pulled me closer to him. The short rough hair on his cheeks and chin tickled against my thighs. My legs buckled. I couldn't stand up anymore. He held me there while I panted and moaned, seeking release.

I felt my climax arrive like a bolt of lightning. It was sudden and intense. My body contracted as waves of pleasure exploded over me. Short, wordless shouts came from my mouth until it was over. I collapsed onto the bed.

I laid there a while, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath. Liam was shuffling around and heard his belt come undone. I felt the bed dip, and I opened my eyes to find Liam naked, climbing up the bed until his face was above mine.

Liam supported some of his weight with one hand and laid on me, our whole bodies skin to skin. He was warm to touch, and he almost felt hot to my now cooled skin.

"Ask me again," Liam said.

Part 8

#original story #original fiction #romantic story

[ionlydatesassyelves]

mods are asleep post more gay drabbles it's the only flavor i can write

modern human au where L and Luigi are seperate people who have to deal with each other, and then they also have to deal with Dimentio. because that's the only other flavor i can write.

((will format correctly in the morning because fuck tumblr mobile))

~~~~~

L wasn't entirely certain when a street performer had set up a magic show in front of his mechanic shop, but it didn't seem to be driving away business, so for now he ignored it. For several weeks, actually, he did a stellar job of ignoring it.

The performer stopped him one day on his way into work, sauntered into his path before the crowd with a dazzling smile. He conjured a rose for L and offered it with a bow, the trick met with cheers and applause.

L scoffed and moved to step around the attention whore, but his path was blocked again. "Not one for flowers, then?" the shorter man sang. He pulled the scarf from his own neck, wrapped it around the delicate rose, and pulled it away with a flourish.

He now held a bouquet of rusty wrenches and screwdrivers wrapped in colorful paper.

L couldn't help it, he laughed, the whole crowd laughing and applauding as well. The man bowed again, and this time L accepted the gift, and he was at last allowed to go on his way.

He pulled the bouquet apart once he entered the shop--not excellent tools, gathered probably from the dump, but the gesture was still hilarious. Once L had unwrapped the paper, he found a card nestled among the tools. No number to call, no elaboration on the givers identity. Only a name.

"Dimentio"

L tried very hard not to hope Dimentio would be hanging around outside his shop again, but he couldn't help being glad to see the thin boy stood up on a box and talking excitedly to the crowd before him.

L elected to spare five minutes to be late for work and watch a couple of Dimentio's tricks. Dimentio smiled when he spotted him in the crowd, asked him to pick a card at one point and summoned it from a little girls knit cap. The girl was delighted, her mother twofold, and she let the little girl hand Dimentio a sizeable tip at the end of the show.

L was more than disappointed he couldn't spare the cash to at least tip Dimentio. He knew Luigi often liked to leave a parting gift for hard working performers that had made him smile, and Dimentio had done that two days in a row. Which was not an easy feat, given L's situation.

The thought pressed firmly at the back of his mind all day. Eventually, he decided to take an early lunch and bolted to catch Dimentio outside.

The performer was gathering tricks and props into a worn duffle bag by this hour, moving onto a different spot. L called out to him before he could go, and Dimentio seemed surprised to see him again.

"I'm afraid you've missed the encore," he teasingly replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Nah, I got enough of your flashy tricks, thanks," L returned. He jogged over to meet Dimentio on the corner, and it was more apparent without the box that Dimentio stood more than a full head shorter than him. It was also more apparent he wasn't wearing shoes.

L frowned down at the sidewalk, taking in the boys pale toes and wondering if he was okay. It wasn't the coldest of the year yet, but it was still far from warm.

Dimentio shifted in place, seemingly eager to get on. He smiled at L anyway. "To what do I owe the pleasure then?"

L ran a hand through his messy hair. He was never very good at this. "You eat yet?"

There was a laugh, and L smiled again. It was different than the stage laugh. Dimentio choked on it a little suddenly, and his voice cracked on the end of it. "Was than an invitation?"

L snorted and jerked his head over his shoulder, walking back towards his shop. He was thrilled that Dimentio followed him.

There wasn't much to the shop, but there was a small, worn couch tucked away in a tiny back room where L could retreat to relax and warm up a little. Dimentio left his pack at the door and happily settled onto the couch with his legs folded under him. L tried not to sit too close to him, but it was difficult to not squish in the small space.

L brewed hot coffee for them both and they shared the sack lunch L had brought for the day. He tried to get Dimentio to eat the whole sandwich, insisting he could make something later, but Dimentio refused to touch more than half of anything.

They sat and talked in the warm little nook for some time longer than they probably should have, but eventually Dimentio went on his way.

L didn't mean to go on and on to Luigi every time this happened afterwards, but eventually Luigi encouraged him to take enough food for L and Dimentio to both have a decent lunch. Gradually, their dates became routine enough that Dimentio swung by the shop even when he had been performing elsewhere that morning.

L didn't quite realize he had a crush until the afternoon the windchill picked up and he gave Dimentio an old coat. It swallowed him up, but he had thanked L sincerely, and stood on tiptoes to give L a kiss on the cheek before he left that day. L didn't want to admit he had spent the rest of the day finding his fingers softly touching the spot, but he did.

It was three dates after that when L finally worked up the nerve to scoot closer to Dimentio on the couch and kiss him fully. Dimentio was so quick to slide his arms around L and return the deep kiss. They wound up making out on the couch, and it wouldnt be the first time.

------

Luigi got to meet Dimentio three weeks after the first time L had invited him to lunch. Usually he kept to the quiet, shambly part of the city, but he'd been visiting a friend on that end of town and ran into Luigi on his way to work, mistaking him for L. They had laughed at the mix up, but Luigi was glad to meet Dimentio at last, and Dimentio was thrilled to discover L had been talking about him.

Dimentio had neglected to tease L about it later that day, but when Luigi told him that night his boyfriend was indeed very cute, the flowers and lovebites L had to come home with suddenly made sense.

Luigi and L both began to look forward to Dimentio brightening their days, either in the silly gifts he would conjure for Luigi before work, or the warm kisses he snuck around L's shop to steal. It wasn't uncommon for Dimentio to come up in conversation while Luigi and L ate dinner together.

Winter rolled around, and they began to wonder more and more where Dimentio called home. If he was safe at night, or at least warm.

L stayed up later pacing some nights, wondering where Dimentio might be and if he was okay. Some days his make out session with the preformer turned into something more, and L could give Dimentio an hour or more of warmth and comfort. But Dimentio always left into the bitter cold with L's old jacket pulled tight around his thin form, bare feet against the cold sidewalk, but no less a spring in his step or spark in his smile.

L began working late and hoarding spare change, cutting little treats for himself where he could to gather up a little bit of extra cash. When Luigi finally asked what he was up to, if he needed help with anything, L admitted he wanted to get Dimentio something warm to wear. At least some new shoes. Luigi gave him the sweetest, warmest smile, and began working overtime as well, adding extra tips to L's fund.

L was beyond tickled the day he finally could lead Dimentio into his worn shop hand in hand. After they ate and exchanged their usual quips, L reached behind the couch and handed Dimentio a very large plastic bag. They couldn't do much to wrap the gift, but Dimentio took it with a bewildered grin. "What is this, now?"

"Call it an early Christmas..." L muttered, sitting back and trying to appear as casual as possible. He was sitting on pins and needles, praying Dimentio didn't notice.

Dimentio eagerly set to digging through the bag, but his motions soon slowed. He pulled out two large, fluffy sweaters in bright colors, and a wool scarf with matching hat, holding all the items in a bundle against his chest. He turned and gave L a shaky smile, like he was waiting for the punchline. "...is this for me?"

"Yeah, it's for you," L almost laughed. "Don't want you to fuckin blow away in the wind out there."

Dimentio turned very quickly back to the gifts in his lap. He looked like he might cry. He busied himself instead pulling the box from the bottom of the bag and opening the lid with a quiet gasp.

"They're a little worn..." L apologized as Dimentio ran his fingers thoughtfully over the black boots. "We found them at a thrift store but, uh... I really didn't want you to freeze..."

Dimentio smiled, and choked a little. "I love them." he said quietly.

He tried them on, and they were a size too big, but only half a size with the colorful wool socks Luigi had tucked into the box. They were big and bulky especially since Dimentio didn't bother lacing them, but they somehow suited him when he kicked his legs back and forth on the couch, and L couldn't help smiling.

He pressed his face into L's shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around the larger man. "I love them," he repeated.

L tried not to respond "I love you too."

Dimentio hung out around the shop the rest of the day, leaving only when L locked up for the night. L insisted he might as well come over for dinner, but Dimentio fidgeted anxiously and insisted he couldn't owe L any more favors.

L wrapped both arms around Dimentio and kissed him slow and deep. "You don't owe me. Just stay safe, okay?"

Dimentio winked, adjusting his scarf around his face to hide the bright blush coloring his cheeks. "No promises."

L bit his lip, but he steeled his nerves and tightening his grip before dimentio's fingers could slip from his. He had to know. "You got somewhere warm to sleep right?"

Dimentio gave L a peck on the cheek and squeezed his hand. "I'll find somewhere."

And then he left.

L couldn't sleep that night.

The thought of Dimentio huddled in the freezing streets was keeping him up. He had already been sick with worry, but previously he could chalk it up to paranoia. Now it had been confirmed, Dimentio was homeless. It wasn't fair. Nothing was in this awful city, but that especially tore L up.

Four times, L almost asked Luigi if he could invite Dimentio to stay. But every time he tried to come up with a reason, he felt like he was asking to keep a dog, which was both insulting to Dimentio's independence and throwing another burden on Luigi. L hated both of those things, so four times, he shut his mouth.

The fifth time had been an impromptu trip to the grocery store, stocking up on essentials. L had commented idly on people looking like they were preparing for the apocalypse.

"Its probably the storm," Luigi had carelessly reminded him.

"...what storm?" L asked, face melting to horror.

Luigi sighed a little as he compared their cart to their list. "I told you, there's supposed to be a blizzard rolling in tomorrow. They say the streets are going to freeze. Oh--remind me to leave the water running tonight, we're fucked if the pipes freeze too."

L couldn't help his knee jerk response. "Dimentio's homeless."

Luigi's eyes flew up to meet L's, wide and shocked. He knew what that meant. "What?" he asked anyway.

"Dimentio's homeless," L repeated, his voice shaking. "He's out on the streets, I don't think he has anywhere to go."

Luigi took that in for about three seconds, then took a deep, steadying breath. "Let's hurry up here and get this home, then we'll see if we can find him."

-----

Luigi almost wrecked the car when L spotted Dimentio from the passengers seat and just jumped out onto the sidewalk. L ignored the frustrated scolding behind him and bolted towards the performer.

Dimentio had taken shelter from the falling snow on a high slope beneath a bridge, but when L climbed up he discovered that Dimentio was already shivering. He was bundled in several layers, but his nose and ears were already a pale shade of blue.

"Get up, you're coming with us," L said sternly, not waiting for a reply as he grabbed Dimentio's bag and slung it over his own shoulder.

"N-no, L, it's... d-d-don't--" Dimentio tried to stutter out a protest, but he was shivering too hard in the howling wind.

His effort was interrupted by L scooping him up off the ground--all the clothes put together probably weighed more than Dimentio himself. "I don't want to hear it. We're going home."

Dimentio didn't argue with that.

Luigi had managed to stop the car nearby when L struggled back down the hill with Dimentio in his arms. L didn't think much about taking the backseat on the ride home and holding Dimentio in his lap, but the preformer didn't seem very intent on moving, so no one questioned it.

Granted the rickety apartment wasn't much, especially for three people, but anything was better in a blizzard. Luigi took Dimentio immediately into the bathroom and showed him how the shower worked, told him to get clean and more importantly, warm. He left Dimentio a soft towel and some of his own cozy pajamas, and Dimentio still seemed at a loss for words.

While he was in the shower, Luigi made a warm soup for dinner and L busied himself cleaning space in his own room for Dimentio's things and piling spare blankets onto his bed.

Dimentio arrived in Luigi's pajamas and the coat he'd been wearing, and L traded it for a softer hoodie. He was still a little uncertain, but he seemed happier and at least the color of a healthy human again.

The three piled on the couch together and ate soup out of mismatched bowls, watching TV as they chatted late into the night.

Before they headed to bed, Luigi got Dimentio to gather up what little clothes he owned so he could wash them in the morning. Luigi also produced a spare toothbrush for Dimentio they "happened" to have, and certainly hadn't bought that day hoping and praying they would find Dimentio tonight.

Dimentio was grinning ear to ear by the time everyone was getting ready to settle into bed. L insisted Dimentio keep his bed tonight, and went to the couch himself, but the preformer clung to him and bashfully asked if L would be willing to stay.

They snuggled into bed together, squished in the small space, but warm and happy to hold onto each other. They whispered in the dark for several hours before falling asleep, sneaking in soft kisses here and there.

The storm did end up snowing them in for several days, and Dimentio was happier to be in the house with each passing hour. Dimentio taught them both several card tricks, and Luigi taught Dimentio new, flashy ways to shuffle the deck. They traded stories about the ongoing struggle against the upper class, laughed over preparing meals, and snuggled together in the quiet.

On the fifth day, news reports began to state that the worst of the storm had passed, and streets should begin to get clear. The weather in the early morning channels also seemed to indicate that the danger of freezing outside would be gone.

L found Dimentio staring out of a window soon following the newscast, watching the snow fall on the empty streets outside. L sat behind him and slid his arms around Dimentio's thin waist, and the smaller man leaned back against his chest. "So I have bad news," L began with a sigh.

"Mm." was all Dimentio said.

"The truth is, we've kidnapped you," he announced grimly.

Dimentio snorted, and L could just make out his smile in the window reflection. "Is that so?"

"Unfortunately, yes, you've actually been a hostage this entire time," L went on in a deadpan, sarcastic tone. He propped his chin on Dimentio's head, and a sigh ruffled his curly hair. "I'm afraid you're going to have to stay forever."

Dimentio's grin crept a little wider. His hands wandered up and rested over L's. "Unfortunate indeed... and if I were to refuse?"

"Well, Luigi gets attached easily, so you might make him cry," L informed him.

"Hmm. Tragic." Dimentio hummed. "You're not one for tears, are you?"

L shrugged carelessly. "Nah. I'd just drag you back here. What do you weigh, like eight pounds?"

"Probably six," Dimentio agreed. He squeezed the toned muscle of L's forearms latched around his waist and teased "Hardly a struggle, even for a weak shrimp like you."

L laughed into Dimentio's hair, and squeezed the performer tighter against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dimentio's head and murmured "I want you to stay. We both do."

Dimentio bit his lower lip - a failed attempt to control the excited grin on his face. His hands squeezed awkwardly around L's wrists, and he sucked in a short, thrilled gasp. "I'd love to," he managed.

#dimentio #mr l #luigi #superstars #writing #drabbles #lmentio #back 👏 on 👏 my 👏 bullshit 👏 #i love my shitlord L i want to write and draw him again

[esteban-ocon]

It turns out I'm much more productive when there no school & no pressure yay✏️✏️✏️

#i am alive #personal #also tumblr mobile ate this post when i tried to post it for the first time like thx

[raisedinerebor]

Muse

Pairing: Thorin x oblivious reader

Song: Hello my old heart- The oh Hello's

Warnings: None. Just fluff.

Tags: @fizzyxcustard @thorins-magnificent-ass

AN: Since I still can't link specific posts on Tumblrs mobile app I'm going to reblog the inspired post above or below this one. I hope ya guys like this one! An thank you for letting me use this idea!

She sat firmly on the wet and worn log. Hunched over as she dutifully scribbles in a well loved journal. Long languid strokes of charcoal on pure white paper.

The fire crackles softly next to her. The only source of light to be had late in the night.

It had been a long day. Thorin had pushed then farther than he had in a while. Eager to go up and over the large hill.

Tired, exhausted, and wanting nothing more to go to sleep.

What a good time to draw a dwarf.

She has already nearly gotten them all. Fili and Kili laughing. Highlighted by the setting sun. Bilbo and Balin smoking their pipes and faces alight with bright smiles.

And of course there was Dwalin. His great form swinging down an battle-axe. Well he was just chopping wood as she drew it but who said you couldn't use a little imagination.

But here she was. Swaying in her seated position. Eyes softly drooping. And finally drawing the last dwarf in her collection.

Thorin.

The firelight casted soft shadows across his face. Rounding off usually sharp edges. He was talking quietly to Dwalin. His head bowed low with his pipe between his lips. The occasional bellow of smoke would curl past his lips and frame his face. Creating a hazy cloud around him.

Y/n switched pencils. Using a thicker one in attempt to shade in. She swiped her finger in loose waves up the paper. The start of the swirling smoke.

She glanced up and back down again. Quickly going from paper to Thorin and back. One more glance up and

"Hey! Move back!" The bemused look on both Thorin's and Dwalin's face was one of the most amusing things she had seen all day.

Ignoring her Thorin moved in closer to his cousin.

Y/n grabbed a pebble at her feet and threw it at Thorin.

"Lass! I" She cut Thorin off.

"I'm trying to draw you! But I can't do that if you keep squirming around like that." Y/n hadn't notice the dying chatter around the fire. Or in that she ignored it.

Thorin's while body lit up then. A soft smile splaying on a normally dour face. Y/n was gathering up the pencils that had fallen from her lap when she had picked up the small rock. She hadn't seen the way Thorin's chest puffed out in pride. Or the way his eyes glittered in the fire light as he threw Dwalin a mischievous grin.

Y/n with pencil in hand, began to direct Thorin on where to move.

"Move your head a bit. Down a little. Tilt your shoulders back and. There!" She had his undivided attention.

Thorin couldn't help but study the race of the one that had held his affections for so long now. A free pass he couldn't give up.

He took note of the gentle arch in her lips. Soft and a full rosy red. The glow her body seem to hold. So large and full of life. Y/n's lip darted out to wet her lips before she caught it between her teeth.

Her eyes lifted up to look at him. He swore she held gems behind her lashes. Gorgeous hues catching in the fires red light. His chest filled up with warmth. Proud of the fact that she chose him for her craft. Not knowing she had held the same affections for him as he did her.

"Can I see it?" And of course Kili had to come over and look. His curiosity as large and vast as the ever growing sky.

Y/n then clutched the journal to her chest and all but hissed at the poor boy.

"No!" Her voice shot up an octave."It's not done yet." Dwalin boomed out in laughter.

"Seems she is not ready to show the world yet lad." He turned to look at y/n and merely gave her a knowing smile. Giving a smile back she began drawing again. Her body hunched over the journal as she tried to hide it from the nosey dwarf.

It felt like a lifetime had passed to Thorin. A lifetime he would not mind reliving a time or two again. Y/n had pencils sticking every which way within her hair. Loose strand's curling to frame her face.

"Finished!" She gave a bright smile and stood up to show Thorin the finished drawing. Thorin took the heavy journal from her. He took note of her hands. They were almost completely covered in charcoal. Along with a few smudges across her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Thorin swelled with pride when he saw the drawing. It was almost like looking in a mirror, only in black and white. It was a drawing of him from the shoulders up. Smoke curled up from his lips and hazed off of the paper itself. He could see the steady line work on his brow and nose. Dark and heavy shadows playing at the hollow of his throat and the side of his face.

Not only that but he could tell the effort she put into his eyes alone. They looked like the glittering stars above them.

"Mahal lass." Thorin managed to breath out. He watched as he face lit up with a grin. His heart melting as she giggled.

"You like it?" Her head tilted to the side a few strands of hair coming to brush against her cheek. Oh how he longed to run his finger along the same path.

"You have worked hard to master your craft." He told her. One of the highest complements on Dwarrow could give another.

Y/n's face grew warm as her cheeks began to color pink.

"Oh. Um. Thank you." She replied softly. Taking the now closed journal in shaking hands.

"Don't we get to see?" Kili came bounding over. His eyes bright with mischievous intent.

"Mmmm. No." And with that y/n shoved the journal back into her pack.

Y/n, amongst a few others, let of a ferocious yawn. Laughing to herself y/n laid down and curled up beneath her heavy blanket.

"I don't know about you guys but I'm going to get some sleep before the sun rises." Murmuring among themselves the Company decided to do the same. The only ones still up being Dwalin, Thorin, and to an extent, Gandalf. Who was of course, resting against a tall pine tree. His hat pulled low over his brow.

"Do you think the Lass means it, Dwalin?" Thorin spoke after a while. His gaze lingering on y/n's sleeping form.

"Means what Thorin? Yer gonna be more specific than that." Dwalin threw him mischievous grin. Knowing full well what his cousin ment.

Thorin was quite for a few minutes. Gazing out deep into the night for any sign of danger. He breathed in heavily exhaling the smoke that curled up deeply within his chest.

Dwalin waited patiently as he puffed at his own pipe. Knowing that Thorin was mulling over something and would not speak until he was sure of his words.

"Does the race of men follow the same affection's that we do?" Thorin put his pipe out and tilted the remaining embers out. Scuffing at the dirt with the tip of his boot to put it out.

Dwalin thought for a moment as he offered Thorin more tobacco for his pipe. Refilling his own he answered.

"I have heard of some men creating music for the ones they love. Some even paint, I believe. But the last I think is reserved for those with heavier coin purses." He turned towards Thorin. "Does that help?" Thorin hummed and bit the tip of his pipe. Searching for the matches hidden in one of his pockets. Striking a match against his boot he lit his pipe.

"A bit, I suppose. But not quite the answer I was looking for." And with that the two sat in silence. Going to bed hours later to wake Ori an Dori for the night watch.

Days pass since the drawing. Y/n finally relenting in Kili's please and showing the rest her drawing of Thorin. Along with a few others of animals and plants she had found along the way.

She grew a bit closer to Thorin each night. Him asking her of her favorite things. Thorin asked her of her past and she gave away the information freely. Speaking of merrier times each night before going to bed.

With each passing day Thorin grew more restless it seemed. Driving the others harder and further. He only grew softer when y/n would go to speak to him.

Whoever was with him on the night watch got to watch him play at his harp. Sure fingers delicately plucking at the fine strings. His deep baritone harmonizing with the song he was creating.

It was a lively one. At the same time it was a stunning tune. Rising and falling with passion and merriment.

And not once did he play it before y/n.

Until that day.

"Y/n. Follow me." Thorin stood before y/n as she stuffed another forkfull of fried potatoes in her mouth. Her cheek bludging out as she tilted her head upwards. She glanced and the fur wrapped bundle under one of Thorin's arm and then to his out stretched hand. Swallowing thickly she asked him why.

"There is no need for questions. Come." He chuckled as she ate her last few bites and grabbed ahold of his hand. Gloin gave him a knowing look as Dwalin arched a brow at him. Thorin nearly threw the bundle under his arm at his sister sons as they laughed told him good luck in khuzdul. He thanked Mahal then for y/n not knowing the language.

"What was that about?" She asked.

"My nephews? Pay them no mind y/n." He led her to a nearby river. He sat her down on a large rock and sat on a log in front of her. Thorin could feel himself growing nervous. Feeling again as if he were 60 and speaking to his first crush.

Thorin felt a rush or air leave him as he looked at her. Y/n painted a pretty picture sitting before the river. Her hands held softly in her lap as she gazed at him expectedly. Her thick lashes fluttering against her cheeks with each gentle breath passing her pink lips.

Before he could regret what he was doing Thorin unwound the bundle. Revealing his golden harp. Y/n gasped when she saw it. Such a stunning thing it was. And one of the few items Thorin still had from Erebor.

"Do you remember the night you drew me y/n?" He asked her. Setting the cloth aside and pulling the harp close to himself.

"Yes but-" He cut her off.

"But nothing. In Dwarven culture it is the highest honor of affection to be the center of another's craft." He plucked at a few of the silver strings. "My first had always been music. Smithing having been a way to pay for my family's needs. And my instrument of choice has always been the harp."

Y/n held her hand over her rapidly beating heart. Trying to process the words that Thorin had just spoken to her. Does he truly?

When she had first met Thorin all those months ago she never truly thought he could look at her any other way than a friend. Or perhaps a sister if she was lucky. Y/n had never been one for softer things. Her life never permitting it. One thing she has always been sore over. Having had her heart broken one to many times by those she thought loved her back.

When she realized she had fallen for the exiled king it was to late. And she to scared to make it known.

Y/n didn't know if she could take a rejection from someone she cared so deeply for. From someone whose opinion she held in high regard.

Y/n almost missed when Thorin started playing. His head bowed low over his harp. Fingers deftly pluck at the shimmering strings. His hands moved fluidly from years of practice. Thorin's body softened as he played. The late suns light played against his skin. Softly catching in the strands of his dark hair. Creating a golden Halo of light around him.

Y/n almost cried when he began singing. He talked of fallen God's. How they turned into the image of fighting woman. How she became the most stunning the people had ever seen. How fair she was and the love that seemed to seep from her beating heart.

Thorin spoke of her as if she were one of those gods to be worshiped. He sung of steady hands holding the heart of her lover. How easily she could have casted it aside for another. But how he hope she kept it and loved it as he did her.

And when Thorin looked up at her. His gaze catching with hers she did cry. For that warmth and love was on his eyes. How softly did they look at her and just as powerfully held her there.

When the realization that she was the one he was singing of washed over her she began to weep. And still Thorin played. His deep voice lulling her into a sense of security and warmth. She had never felt so loved before.

Never had there been someone so unafraid to open their heart before her. Each past love having been a short fling or the thought of something more promised.

She was scared and delighted and the same time.

Only when he was finished did Thorin set the harp aside and pull her in close. His large hand rubbing softly against her back.

"I do hope, Amarlime, that those tears are not ones of sorrow." Y/n sniffed and smacked his arm.

"Oh you great sap of a man. I have never been happier than I am now." She pulled back and tilted into the hand now cupping the side of her face. "Do you truly mean it?" She asked. Her voice soft and wavering.

Thorin brushed a way the tears trailing down y/n's cheeks. His thumb tracing just beneath her lip.

"Only if you would have me. Only then." Y/n almost fell into tears again.

"I would be a fool not to say yes." She placed her hand over his. "Needless to say I am no fool. So yes Thorin. I will be yours. As long as you promise you will be mine."

"Consider it promise." He held her hand in his own. Pulling it close to his lips as he placed a kiss on y/n's knuckles.

"For as long as I may breathe and on my honor as a King. I will forever be yours. Until Mahal may take me away in his halls of stone my heart will lay within your palms. For you to do as you wish."

As he spoke Thorin pulled y/n close. His fingers softly pulling beneath her chin to bring her lips to his own. Thorin's hand came up to wind in her hair and the back of her head. The other trailing down to make it's home at her hip. Y/n could do nothing more than place her hands on his cheeks.

When he pulled back they were both breathless and starryeyed. Y/n giggled as Thorin peppered her face with kisses.

"You have made me the happiest Dwarf alive. My little Muse." Y/n gave him another kiss.

"Watch yourself Thorin. You may find this muse to be very hands on." He laughed and pulled her by the hips.

"Perhaps I should sing you another song then. This time of the two lost lovers in the stars."

She kissed him deeply and whispered in his ear.

"As long as we are lost together."

#Thorin x reader #thorin #the hobbit #the hobbit thorin #hobbit fanfiction #sorry about the ending #i tried #😂

[qvill-s]

can i request a relationship headcanons with dorothea or bernadetta? i hope you’re doing well! drink plenty of water :)

NOTES: guess who got her new laptop :D !!! i can finally edit and post some requests bc ,,, tumblr mobile just ain’t it folks. but anyway, here’s your request ! i didn't really know if you wanted it pre or post timeskip, so i tried to keep that as ambiguous as i could.

WARNINGS: brush your teeth if you don't want cavities folks, because it's all sweet below the cut (for once sksksk)

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

bernadetta &&. dorothea + relationship headcanons under the cut !!!

BERNADETTA

A relationship with Bernie is definitely slow-starting. The relationship starts with a friendship — and maybe even a mutual "I don't know you, but you seem nice" kind of vibe going on beforehand — as you catch her between classes and in the handful of times she leaves the comfort of her room.

It will take some time, so please be patient! Opening up and trusting other people doesn't come quite as easily to her, but once she realizes that you mean her no harm or ill-will, she'll be able to settle into your presence and get used to having you around. The important thing here is to give her time, be patient, and keep at it.

Once that happens, though, the two of you become fast friends. Most of your time together is spent in the dorms, more in her room than yours. She just feels much safer inside the four walls she's used to seeing, and plus, all the things you guys needed for your activities were in her room anyway, so it made little sense to relocate.

You guys definitely have painting nights! She sets up a stuffed animal or a venus flytrap on a table and the two of you try to paint it to the best of your abilities. When the weather is particularly nice, the two of you go out into some quiet corner of the monastery and paint the scenery there. Hers always come out better than yours, no matter what she says to try and brush you off.

She's always offering to patch up your clothes. After one ripped hem too many, you insist that she teaches you how to sew, saying that it's a good life skill to have. Even after she teaches you, she still says that she's happy to fix up the rip in your sleeve herself.

Falling for each other came easy. Neither of you can pinpoint when exactly the two of you saw each other as more than friends, when a casual touch to the shoulder became more than that, when stolen glances began to linger, and shared smiles became much more common.

You were both in denial, however, refusing to believe that the other could ever like you back, even when it was plain to see that the two of you were already head over heels for each other. In fact, when the two of you confess, no one is surprised more than yourselves. Bernadetta most of all, because never in her wildest dreams did she even hope that you shared her feelings.

After the initial excitement, little changes between the two of you as you enter a romantic relationship. You still have painting nights, take tea in her room, and spend most of your time indoors — but this time, the experience is peppered with red cheeks and clasped hands and the little physical expressions of intimacy.

That being said, the first time you two kiss is an endearing mess, with faces so red you could rival a pair of tomatoes. There's a lot of awkward fumbling and one (1) incident of teeth clashing at first, but once the two of you find your rhythm — well, they could very well be the fairytale kisses she writes about in her stories.

DOROTHEA

Dorothea, though she may seem more approachable than Bernadetta, owns a heart that is not so easily won. Her life on the streets and at the Opera taught her all about pretty words, their value, their weight. Pretty words, yes, but they are only that.

That being said, she isn’t particularly inclined to let anyone whose words can only be taken at face value to get too close to her. She’ll only open up to you if you show her that there’s more to you than just your words, that you can back them up with actions, that you understand the weight of words and use them wisely. A romantic relationship, however, doesn’t start until you show her that you don’t think any less of her just because she’s a commoner.

It’s something she’s heard  — usually along the lines of, “Oh, you’re beautiful for a commoner” — and reminded of a lot in her life. Not to mention, at the Officer’s Academy, she’s a part of the Black Eagles class, where commoners are few and far between. She’s tired of hearing about class, about commoners and nobility, about how the latter are supposedly better than everyone else, especially when her experiences tell her otherwise, so it’ll come as a pleasant surprise when you tell her that you aren't concerned with such things, and mean it.

It’ll take some time, as with most things, but once she sees that you genuinely care for her, there’s very little about you that she isn’t enamored with. She loves your smile, the sound of your laugh, the gleam in your eyes when you’re happy. She thinks the flush in your cheeks when you’re embarrassed or angry (or both) is endearing. She adores that you care for her as much as she cares for you, checking in on her after particularly brutal battles, or even when she’s simply having an off day.

When you remember the little things she’s told you, like giving her a crown of the wildflowers you saw on your walk that she said she liked, or a recipe of a cake from the café you ate at that she enjoyed, she’s flattered. Your gifts, though usually inexpensive, are priceless in what they mean to her.

Your dates together exist outside of the monastery, outside of lectures, outside of battles. They are the moments of peace in your lives, where you don’t have to think of much beyond each other — the way her hair falls on her face when she tips her head forward to read the menu, the way she covers her dazzling smile with a hand when she’s embarrassed — and beyond whether or not you should try the new tea blend the café is offering.

If you’re interested in black magic, she’s more than happy to teach you, which comes as a relief for you because, uh, the other Black Eagles don’t seem too eager to do so. (Read: Hubert leered, and Linhardt declined in favor of a nap.) She’s a decent teacher who tries to make the difficult concepts easier to understand, but she won’t give you a free pass for slacking just because she’s your girlfriend. She does, of course, reward you with a kiss if you manage to expel a bolt of thoron successfully.

Kisses with Dorothea are usually a gentle — if not a little teasing — affair. She’ll cup your face in her hands, sweep a dainty thumb across a cheek, curve her lips into a smile before she presses them against your own. If she’s feeling a little mean that day, she’ll bite your bottom lip and leave you with a promise that goes unfulfilled (for the moment) and an almost cherubic smile as she goes off to do her errands.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem imagines #fe imagines #fire emblem bernadetta #fire emblem dorothea #fe bernadetta #fe dorothea #reader insert #im love … they ... #imagine being able to kiss these ladies #WOW to be that lucky #hello @fanfic gods im ready 2 b sucked into fire emblem

[shozaii]

Hi! Sorry to be a bother but all of the links I've tried for your latest chuuya fluff seem to be broken?? Even the on the masterlist?? Searching for it on the tags doesn't work??? I saw the first paragraph of it from someone's reblog but the keep reading link to that is broken too pls god I wanna read the rest can u pls help me? (I'm on mobile btw) also sorry again if this is a waste of your time I just need some FLUFF

ahh yes hewwo hewwo anon!! i’m so sorry i did not address this earlier but tumblr sort of ate up the whole thing hhhh🥺🥺 and yes the links are not working indeed!! i deeply apologize for not mentioning this on my blog, this is because i’m writing the whole thing again T_T but i promise it would be out soon!! skksksd i wanted everyone to enjoy some fluff and it had to turn out this way😭

but yes!! keep an eye out for it, i’ll post it for you to finally read it hhh. and thank you so much for letting me know!!! you shall get the fluff soon😫💖

#mitra is big dumb #yes this tag exists now #anon!!

[paradigmparadoxical]

2020 TEAs: For Your Consideration

Because it's the thing, and I'll regret it if I don't.  I regretted it last year when I missed the chance. Really, I just want people to read my fic, and this is as good a way as any of getting it out there.

So.

At this time last year I was a raw tumblr newbie and had a grand total of one rumbelle fic published.  I am so excited to have eligible offerings for you this time around. Everything I've written for OuaT can be found on my Ao3, with the exception of some scattered teasers for Never Let Go, the smutty 100k thing that ate my life.

Best Cover Art

I went on a cover art spree in August.  From that collection, the cover for @kelyon 's fic Golden Cuffs was definitely the most popular, whether for its own merit, or because kelyon is amazing--who knows?  I know the artwork wouldn't be half as good without the invaluable feedback from kelyon and @wayamy .

I'm photosensitive and tend to dim down colors that others may not find as bright as I do. Case in point, @timelordthirteen 's cover for Revenge Radio.  The neon glow was an effect I'd never tried before.  How it looks to other people's eyes? Who knows.

I had a lot of fun with the perspective in @thestraggletag 's cover for her fic Human Nature.  Gold broke my heart and put it back together again.  I want to squish him and hug him.

The cover for @killingkueen 's fic Creature was my first foray into vector art using GIMP.  I'm in love with the elegant simplicity of the medium, and the tiny file size.

All of the covers were a lot of fun to make, and hey... if anyone is in touch with marchionessofblackadder ( @missblackwood-blog ), I'd really love to post their cover for Who Favor Fire to Ao3, but I'm sort of waiting to make sure it's okay first.

None of these pieces contain the pairing itself, which (imho) kind of misses the point.

I'm still getting the hang of the GIF thing.  A lot of my GIFs were too big for tumblr, and don't load correctly.  My favorite of them is Morraine's character study, which isn't rumbelle at all, but she's a cutie and her mother was rad as hell.

Best First Meeting

Belle first meets Rumplestiltskin in the dwarven mines in The Quill.  He's filthy, and halfway mad, and mesmerised by the one person who seems to care for his well-being.  That she also happens to be the first real human contact he's had in months doesn't hurt anything.

The Quill and A Life for a Life are both eligible for Best AU!OUAT.  There's others much better, but they fit, which is supposedly the point of writing the For Your Consideration thing.

A Life for a Life has plenty of hurt/comfort, which puts it under 'comfort' in the fluff category, as well as 'hurts so good' in angst.  Rumple throws the dagger to Belle in that snowy clearing, and later finds himself incapable of both holding it and keeping Baelfire safe.

I wouldn't call it dagger porn, because there is no porn, but there is daggerish-ness.

Spoiler:  Zelena dies.

As intrinsic as Belle is to Rumple's character, Endless Years Between is more of a papa!Rumple and swanfire fic than rumbelle.  Belle doesn't even appear in Cinnabons, because it's an AU of 2x14 that is mostly set in and en route to New York, and she only gets a brief far-in-the-future mention in Reprieve.

Also, I'm using tumblr on mobile, and I've heard the links can be wonky, so I hope this works.

#stuff paradigmparadoxical makes #TEAs #teaespensonawards #the espenson awards #for your consideration #TEAs for your consideration #ouat #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanart #rumbelle art #rumbelle

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you have any fics where Sherlock actively protects and/or defends John? Not like I’m-leaving-to-protect-you, but like standing-and-facing-aggressors-to-protect-and-defend?

Hi Nonny!

Ahh, I actually do, but I end up classifying it under “John Whump” or “Possessive Sherlock” LOL. Here’s what I got for you!

PROTECTIVE SHERLOCK

See also:

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 2

Jealous & Possessive Sherlock

The Moment When by drekadair (K, 509 w. || TGG Fic, Friendship, First Person POV Sherlock, Introspection, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock sees John in the pool, and doubts. Set during the end of "The Great Game."

Promise of Sussex by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 705 w. || First Person POV Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Pining, Ambiguous Ending) – John tries to keep Sherlock conscious after he's been shot on a case.

Promises Kept by grannysknitting (K+, 844 w. || John POV, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Sherlock’s Violin, Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Post-TGG) – When they were in hospital, Sherlock made a promise to himself. Now he's keeping it. Set after 'Polygamous Marriage' but before 'Back in the Saddle'

Possessive by Fang323 (T, 850 w. || John Whump, Hospitalization, Possessive / Protective Sherlock, Friendsdhip, Hurt/Comfort) – His John did not belong. Not here. Not in this blasted hospital. It simply was not logical.

Burn Burn by Jenn1984 (K+, 925 w. || Post-TGG, Angst, Worried / Panicked / Possessive Sherlock) – A week after the events of "The Great Game", Sherlock returns to 221B Baker Street to find it empty.

Back in the Saddle by grannysknitting (M, 1,577 w. || Post TGG, Donovan POV, Observation / Introspection, Protective Sherlock, Injured John, Case-ish Fic) – Their first return to solving crime after the pool and the explosion.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomolies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

Those Days by StillWaters1 (T, 2,663 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD / Sensory Attacks, Caring Sherlock) – If Sherlock had danger nights, then these were John's danger days.

Domino by Deception's Call (K, 2,689 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Scared / Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Crying Sherlock, Hospital, Implied Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case and is admitted to the hospital, those at Scotland Yard come to realize that perhaps Sherlock Holmes has a heart after all.

It Was All Right There In Front of Him (A Five Times Plus One Story) by bees_stories (T, 3,191 w. || 5+1, Protective Idiots, Grooming, Bed Sharing, Lestrade POV) – DI Greg Lestrade is a good detective. But sometimes he doesn’t trust the evidence in front of him, until there’s a compelling reason to do so.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn't. A history of the boys, in food.

The Dangers of Dating by verityburns (T, 3,325 w. || Friendship, Case Fic, No Slash, John Whump, 3G, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock and John acquire a new client... with a very unusual problem.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Every Step of the Way by Shi-Toyu (T, 3,795 w. || Romance, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Car Accidents, Care Taking, Pre-Slash) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can't forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he'll prove them all wrong by sticking with him... every step of the way.

Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4,357 w. || THoB Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drugged John, PTSD / Panic Attack, Hallucinations, Worried Sherlock, John’s Past, Friendship) – What if John hadn't seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can't tell what's real and what's not. How will Sherlock react?

Let Down by Gandalf3213 (K+, 4,505 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump, Insecure John) – John truly is sorry for letting Sherlock down. The only thing he wanted to do was finish the case, but bleeding out in a dark alley makes it harder for him to pursue that murderer running out of sight.

Applied Linguistics by what_alchemy (M, 4,837 w. || Possessive / Anxious Sherlock, Introspection, Bed Sharing, Past John Whump, Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Word Play) – “He wants to shake John by the shoulders, wants to open his mouth and swallow John whole. Wants to marry him.” Sherlock searches for the right words.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

BANG by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 7,016 w. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried / Scared Sherlock, Alternating POV, Whump, Hospital Recovery, Open Ending) – 'I should warn you,' Sherlock says, his voice steady and his eyes fixed on Moriarty. 'You are sadly misinformed.' And he fires. Prequel to M Is For Moriarty

Inconvenient Timing by TheMadKatter13 (M, 7,072 w. || Omegaverse || Omega John/Alpha Sherlock, Romance, Public Heat, Scared John, Protective / Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Post-TBB AU, Caring Sherlock, Pre-Slash, Happy Ending) – When John's heat failed to appear three times in a row after he was shot, he figured it was just another broken piece off the broken toy soldier. So he was rather surprised to feel it start out of the blue...and not at all pleased with it starting while he was on the tube.

On Favors and Keeping Score by Ewebie (G, 7,622 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, John Whump) –  John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.” Part 7 of Tumblr Shorts

The Hours Before Midnight by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 7,773 w. || TGG Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture / John Whump, Kidnapping, Drugging, Alternating POV, Worried / Protective Sherlock) – Moriarty doesn't play fair. John must deal with hours of torment from Moriarty before going to meet Sherlock at the Pool at the end of the Great Game and Sherlock must deal with the consequences of his boredom.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

A Friend Indeed by Sanru (K+, 8,190 w. || Missing John, Friendship, Drama, Introspection, Possessive Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – Something has gone terribly wrong with a supposedly simple case. John Watson is missing. While the search for him is proving to be fruitless, it has made Sherlock realize that having an emotional attachment to someone may have its disadvantages but he liked being able to call John his friend. Now if only he could find out what happened to him...

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres.The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

The Dying Doctor by Transcendental Starlight (T, 11,258 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John / John Whump, ACD Rewrite) – Loosely based off ACD's "The Dying Detective." Sherlock relives a case that should have killed him, but instead resulted in John being hospitalized for a deadly disease. Sherlock endeavors to catch the murderer, while attempting to envision a future without John Watson. No Slash.

A Building of Bridges by Unique (K, 12,325 w. || Drama, Alternate First Meeting, John’s PTSD / Flashbacks, Mute John, Dialogue-Heavy, Caring Sherlock, Friendship) – No one would ever send Sherlock in to diffuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that's exactly what happened. "Congratulations, Lestrade," he called out sarcastically. "You're traumatizing a war veteran."

Always the sun by Rose de Sharon (K+, 12,377 w. || Song Fic, Alternate Post-TGG, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection / Reflection, Injury Recovery, Obsessive / Protective Sherlock, Nightmares, John’s Past, Bed Sharing / Cuddles) – Sherlock ponders about how much his life has changed since John has become his flatmate.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of "The Great Game" Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (M, 17,664 w. || Pining, Angst & Fluff, First Kiss, Unrequited, Protective Sherlock) – John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #protective sherlock #sherlock takes care of john #Anonymous

[writerunsolved]

The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 7

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 7/?

Summary:  You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

After a wild night at the VMAs and some heavy partying and drinking at the afterparty, you write and publish a drunken tweet about a certain celebrity and one of their friends. You only realise what you've done the next day when a slew of texts and calls wakes you up to a dreadful but expected hangover. You immediately delete the tweet, but you're left to deal with the consequences. A public apology would probably be enough to make everything go away if you hadn't been invited to a movie premiere where said celebrity is most certainly going to be.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: Quick PSA: I’d noticed getting fewer notes than usual on the last two chapters. I later found out that Tumblr has killed internal links too, which means that my updates supposedly didn’t show up in searches. For this reason, starting today, I have to stop linking to my previous and next chapters. To make extra sure you don’t miss any updates, you can also subscribe to this fic on AO3.

Seen the situation, your reblogs are more important than ever! Remember to support your favourite creators on Tumblr by reblogging rather than liking their posts, it is the only way their work can get around and reach a wider audience! Thank you in advance for reading!

Previous chapters can be found on this blog.

Chapter Seven - Just As Sweet As Coffee And With The Same Aftertaste

-

When you’d gotten home after the dinner, you had just as mechanically divested and put on your pyjamas. Only once you’d laid down on your bed to sleep, had the weight of what had happened finally dawned upon your mind and quickly become a thought to worry about.

In the safety of your bedroom and under the cover of darkness, as well as the more literal duvet that the cold weather had started requiring, your brain had once again begun spinning out of your control providing you with ever new anxieties. You had soon started examining your behaviour during the whole evening, considering the way you’d eaten, laughed, drunk, the subjects you’d decided to talk about, and every single reaction you’d elicited from Tom. But the one thought that had kept circling back throughout your meticulous examination had been that of the almost-kiss you had almost-shared.

Right then, an unbearable feeling of embarrassment had burned inside you like a sudden stab, and you had immediately felt the shame that came with presuming that none of it had been reciprocated. Once the belief that you had forced yourself on poor, polite Tom had taken root in your head, sleep had seemed like a distant memory you had no idea how to chase, nor grasp.

At some point, you had lost any sense of the time passing, so much that only the vibration of your phone on the nightstand had finally made you realise how late it had gotten. When you’d hurriedly snatched it to check who it was, desperate for any kind of distraction from your own train of thought, the single text you had received had been enough to put your mind at ease and make you decide that it was time to try and sleep.

“I had a wonderful night,” it had read, “I look forward to next time.”

You hadn’t answered right then, only seen that it was almost 2 AM and turned around with a smile on your face, determined to rest.

When you finally did wake up, you were drowsy enough that the memory of the previous night wasn’t the first thought in your mind. You checked your phone and saw that it was almost 11 AM, panic shot through you for just a second before you remembered that it was Sunday and you had no work, so you relaxed back into the mattress with a sigh.

You instinctively reached for your phone, mostly to check if you had any new texts, not yet remembering that you still had one from Tom to answer. When you took it in your hand, his notification was still there, hitting you with a mix of undefined emotions.

“Hi, and good morning :) I also had a great time, we should meet again soon," you sent him in response. Then, in another text, you added, “If work allows, of course.”

You wondered just for a moment if it sounded like you were making excuses not to meet again, but your worry was instantly alleviated by him replying “I’ll definitely let you know when I’m free again, and I hope you’ll do the same.” You agreed and for the rest of the day you texted back and forth like you’d been doing for a while now, and the normalcy of it kept your preoccupations about the night before at bay.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with the exception of going back to work on Monday. You were distracted enough with new interviews and finally some meetings to determine when and where your upcoming concert tour would take place, that you barely had time to dwell on your anxieties again.

They had certainly faded from your mind that Wednesday when you were having lunch with Nina at a small place on the same street as the label building.

You were sitting down at a sleek square table, lunch in front of you, and slowly picking at the food while Nina spoke rapidly into her mobile phone. You had no idea what she was talking about, her voice fast enough and low enough that you could only catch a couple of words here and there, like “Liam” and “Be on time” and a whole lot of “No”. You looked distractedly around you, the small restaurant had a cold, minimalistic vibe to it, with polished aluminium tables and chairs. It was the first time you ate there, Nina had been the one to suggest it, you didn’t mind the food but it wasn’t anything special.

A lot of people kept coming and going, only very few opting to sit down in the small space that the restaurant allowed, and most just grabbing paper bags full of food to take away and eat elsewhere. You really didn’t understand the appeal of the place, but you imagined it would certainly be convenient to stop there and pick up a quick meal if you worked in one of the many office buildings of the area.

Your inconsequential thoughts were interrupted by Nina almost slamming the phone down on the tabletop and declaring, “This is why I don’t want interns, they’re only a waste of my time.” She sighed loudly and faced you, shaking off the annoyance of the phone conversation and digging into her lunch with vigour.

“Sorry for that,” she started, carelessly waving her fork around and talking animatedly, “Talking to Liam is like screaming into the wind. He’s always carrying that notepad around and writing everything down, and yet he still calls me for every tiny thing,” she huffed again, “Unbelievable.”

You nodded in sympathy, “I guess it must be hard to keep up with you,” you told her, “Not even I have any idea of the number of things you get done in a single day.”

“Don’t defend him,” she groaned and pointed at you with her fork, you felt mildly threatened, “I know I’m a force to be reckoned with, but if he wants to get anywhere at the label he’s gonna have to learn.”

You replied with a small “Fair enough,” and took another bite of your lunch, Nina did the same.

“This food isn’t all that much,” she commented, “I shouldn’t have trusted Mike, but anyway...” She paused and quickly ate another mouthful or two, then directed her attention at you, “I don’t believe you’ve told me about your dinner the other night.”

Her change of subject surprised you enough that you almost choked on the food you’d just put in your mouth. You started coughing convulsively, barely managing to swallow a crouton before it choked you to death. Nina just looked at you silently, unscrewing the water bottle you were sharing and pouring some of the liquid in your glass. You thanked her with a look and gulped down the water, finally able to breathe normally again.

“Is that a positive or negative answer?” she asked you with a smirk.

You straightened up and gave her a nasty look, “Very funny.”

“It was a little bit funny,” she pushed her thumb and index finger together to show how much, “But mostly it was adorable, I can’t believe how much of a goner you are.”

You spluttered, you were just about to reply when your phone, which had been sitting on the side of your glass, vibrated with a new text alert. You ignored your train of thought in favour of checking the notification but didn’t get any further than seeing that it was from Tom because Nina started laughing. You looked at her, confused by her reaction.

She pointed at the phone you were clutching with the hand still holding her fork, “See, you have no leg to stand on! You literally stopped mid-thought to check if he was sending you a text.”

“I- I wasn’t- I didn’t! I-” you stuttered, trying to find something to defend yourself, “We were just… We were already texting before!” you almost shouted. Then, realising your sudden increase in volume, you cleared your throat and tried again in a much lower voice and a casual shrug, “It would be rude to leave him hanging.”

Nina smiled and rolled her eyes, “Oh, you are just so,” she elongated the word, “Considerate.”

“Well, excuse me,” you rebutted, an exaggeratedly haughty look on your face.

“Go on,” she urged you, “Read it. I know you’re dying to.”

“I’m not dying to,” you muttered but didn’t hesitate to open up the text. For some reason or other, you and Tom had started talking about the cartoons you used to watch as children, you had no idea how you’d gotten to the subject, and he was just following up on the conversation. You shot back a quick answer and put the phone back on the table.

“Anyway,” Nina started again when she saw you were done, “I really do want to know about dinner. Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” she pouted.

“It was just dinner,” you answered, “There isn’t all that much to say, really...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she nodded, “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it.” You wanted to protest, but she continued in a more serious tone, “Just remember that we’re friends, and whenever you’re ready - and if you feel like you need to - you can talk to me, okay?”

You shook your head gently, “I appreciate it, Nina. But, honestly, you’re making it out to be much bigger than it is.”

“I know you, hon,” she repeated, “And I’m pretty sure you’re stressing about this. But I also know that you need time to think about it by yourself, which is fine,” she insisted, “But don’t feel like you have to keep everything inside because you think we’re gonna judge you or something like that.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed and looked down at the table, nervously picking at the edge with your index finger, “I’m just not sure of the situation, and I don’t feel like I’m ready to share what’s going through my mind yet. I need more time to clear my head is all,” you finally admitted and looked up at Nina. She was smiling kindly.

“It’s okay, hon,” she reassured you, “I’ll still be here later.”

You forced yourself to smile back, trying to show your gratitude, but the feeling of being a bad friend was nagging at you. Something in you wanted to push and make you open up, but your insistence to deny that you were feeling anything at all was much stronger. Sometimes you just wished you could be a better friend to the people supporting you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nina changed the subject swiftly, “The 4 PM meeting on Friday was cancelled, so you can definitely make other plans for the evening. And Monday, too,” she added, “My parents are gonna be in town, so I’m giving you a day off,” she winked.

“Nice!” you commented, then asked her, “How are your parents by the way? It was so lovely meeting them last May.”

“They’re fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, “They’re enjoying retirement in their dreamy French villa, as usual. You should join us for dinner on Monday, they loved meeting you, too. They were smitten by that talentueuse jeune fille,” she said the last sentence in an exaggerated French accent, an imitation of her parents’, “And wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

You laughed. The rest of the meal was spent making plans for the dinner on Monday. After that, you both went back to work. Later in the day, you texted Tom to let him know you would be free on Friday afternoon and asked him if he wanted to get coffee. He accepted enthusiastically and promised to discuss specifics later in the day.

-

Amidst your hectic working hours, Friday seemed to come in an instant.

You’d heard from Tom again and, in the end, you’d agreed on going to Caffé Piccolo. You’d mentioned their amazing coffee in previous conversations, and he was thrilled to finally get to experience it too.

That day, you managed to leave work exactly at 4 PM. The morning meetings about the tour had been slow-going and full of technical information you couldn’t do much about. In fact, you weren’t sure why your presence had been required at all, but you hadn’t minded too much and Nina had also been there.

You exited the building and looked at the time on your phone. You and Tom had arranged to meet at a quarter to five in front of Caffé Piccolo, which meant that you still had forty-five minutes to get there, it would be more than enough time to make it without being late. You looked up at the sky, thick grey clouds hovered above the rooftops, promising rain. You frowned, hoping that you would make it home before the weather turned for the worse, then walked away toward the tube station.

You made it to the café with a few minutes to spare and no rain on your path. You briefly considered whether to wait for Tom inside, but in the end, opted to stay where you were. Soon enough, you saw him hurrying down the street from the same direction you’d come, straight from the metro.

When he reached you, you could see that he was wind-swept and that he’d probably ran to make it in time. His hair was in complete disarray and his coat was unbuttoned, showing that he was wearing a soft navy-blue sweater underneath.

“Hi!” he greeted you cheerfully, a huge smile on his lips. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to slide it back in place, but it did very little. “Sorry, I’m late.”

You smiled back, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not late,” you reassured him, “I got here a bit early, but you’re perfectly on time”.

He touched your shoulder gently and said, “It’s good to see you again,” then, he hugged you tightly.

You felt just as off guard as the first time you’d hugged. You guessed it would take a while before you would get used to it. You obviously didn’t hate it, but you had trouble letting yourself go, though you did try. By the time you separated, you’d even managed to reciprocate the hug.

“So this is the legendary Caffé Piccolo,” he said, looking behind you at the small door, “Did I say it right?”

“I’m not one to judge,” you joked, “But be reassured that if you say it wrong inside, they won’t hesitate to correct you.” He laughed, you added, “And I’m not sure about legendary, but their coffee is certifiably extraordinary.”

“I was excited to try it before, but now I can’t wait one more second. Shall we go in?” he asked, extending a hand towards the door.

You nodded and turned around to make your way inside, keeping the door open for Tom who followed you in and thanked you. You let the door close behind him and looked around, searching for an empty table. You couldn’t see Andrea, at his place at the cash register was his mother Santuzza, who immediately saw you enter and welcomed you with a huge smile.

“Andrea! Vieni un attimo alla cassa! ” she shouted toward the back, from which Andrea appeared. He quickly took his mother’s place at the cash register so Santuzza could make her way towards you, open arms ready to squeeze you. “Gioia mia, it’s so nice to see you!”, she spoke with a thick accent and her smile still in place. As soon as she reached you, she threw her arms around you and crushed you into the sweetest hug she could manage.

“Mrs Fusco, I’m happy to see you, too,” you told her when she let you go. You massaged your left side carefully, she had pushed so tightly around you, that you couldn’t help but jam your own elbow into the side of your ribs. You could see Andrea behind her punching in one of the costumers’ order, he raised his eyes from the cash register and spotted you looking back. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand and went back to his task.

“Oh, please, tesoro mio, call me Santuzza. How many times do I have to tell you?” she chastised you, then asked, “What are you doing here, goia?”

“I brought a friend to try your magnificent coffee,” you replied, gesturing towards Tom, who was watching the exchange with a tiny smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fusco,” he told Santuzza, then introduced himself, “I’m Tom, I’ve heard amazing things about your establishment.” He extended his hand, and when Santuzza did the same, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. You could immediately see how flattered the gesture had made her and covered your mouth to hide the impressed grin that had bloomed on your lips.

“Oh my,” Santuzza almost blushed, “What a charming young man you have there,” she turned to you, “Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto.”

You laughed slightly, sure that the compliment had made Tom bashful, but not of what Santuzza had told you with her last sentence.

“Enjoy the coffee,” she told you both and went back to her place at the cash register, pushing Andrea back towards the kitchen in the back.

“You speak Italian?” Tom asked you while you made your way to one of the small tables next to the large window that overlooked the front of the store.

You took off your coat and draped it on the back of your chair before sitting down, Tom did the same. “Not really,” you told him, “I’m not sure what she said, to be honest, I only understand the pet names because she uses them so much.”

“I see,” he replied, “She was calling you ‘love’, and ‘joy’, and ‘treasure’. I can understand a little Italian, but not enough to know what she told you, I’m afraid,” he explained.

“That’s impressive!” you commented, widening your eyes, “You should teach me what you know sometime.”

“Why not,” he smiled, then changed the subject, “I assume you come here a lot, you seem very close with the owner.”

“Owners, actually,” you specified, “Santuzza and her husband Giovanni opened the café with their son Andrea.” Tom was listening interestedly. “From what I know, Andrea went to a business university here in London. When he went back to Italy after that, he convinced his parents to move to London too and to open Caffé Piccolo,” you explained, “They already had a small place back in Italy, and he believed they could really get somewhere with their coffee specialities.”

Tom looked around, almost every other table in the room was occupied, and there were several people waiting in line for their coffee at the counter. “I think he might have had the right idea,” he joked, referring to the small crowd.

You chuckled. “I know I amped up their coffee a lot,” you emphasised the last two words, “But I swear I wasn’t lying.”

Before Tom could answer, Andrea had reemerged from the back of the café and was approaching your table. “Bellezza, it’s been a while,” he greeted you. He looked around and towards the entrance before continuing, “No Nina today?”

“Hey, Andrea,” you greeted him with a smile, “Nope, no Nina.” He sighed in relief. “I brought a new friend today.”

At that, Andrea noticed Tom, who was sitting cross-legged in front of you with a small smirk, and gulped. He spluttered several times before squeaking out, “I didn’t know you were friends with Tom Hiddleston.”

You snickered at Andrea’s loss for words, he was probably mourning Nina’s absence just then.

“Hi, Andrea, nice to meet you,” Tom offered his hand to shake, still smirking and going along with your teasing.

Andrea took it and said, “It’s the same for me, Mr Hiddleston.”

Behind Andrea’s back, you widened your mouth in amused surprise and outrage: Andrea had never been that polite to Nina and you!

“Please, just Tom,” he answered. When their hands separated, Andrea took a step back and looked between you and Tom squaring his shoulders in the semblance of a professional demeanour, and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

You glanced at Tom and asked him, “Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

“Please,” he replied, “Go ahead.”

“Do you like chocolate?” you asked him one last time, and when he nodded you turned to Andrea and finally said, “We’ll have a Marocchino and a Caffé al Ginseng, please.” Andrea, who had taken out a small notepad, wrote the order down and nodded, leaving the two of you and walking back towards the counter.

“I’m kind of curious about what you just ordered,” Tom started, “But I also want to keep the surprise alive,” he joked. You laughed. A beat or two of silence passed before he spoke again, “I was surprised by your text,” he said, “Pleasantly, of course. Did you get a long weekend?”

“No, actually,” you explained, “The afternoon meeting for today was cancelled, and since it was the last appointment for today, I thought I’d let you know and see if you were free too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” he replied, “I was glad you thought of me.”

You blushed, “No problem,” you almost mumbled, smiling shyly. Then asked, “Did you also get a half-day?”

“Unfortunately not,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a bitter smile, “I was free this morning, but I have a work dinner later tonight.”

“Oh, I see. What time do you need to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a brush of his hand, “It’s not until eight.”

You were going to say more when Andrea approached your table again, carrying a round metal tray. He set half of it on the table, keeping the other half up with his hand, and started moving the cups out of it. He set two glasses filled with water on the table, then said, “A Marocchinohere,” and deposited a small plate with a slightly larger than usual espresso cup filled to the brim with a deep brown chocolate and coffee concoction in front of Tom, then a smaller one with what looked like a very weak coffee in front of you, “And a Caffé al Ginseng for you.” You were about to thank him, but he added, “And I brought some Cantuccini. Dad made them this morning, let me know what you think,” and winked at you.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you told him. He nodded, picking up the tray and holding it in front of him, then left with a quick friendly touch to your shoulder.

You looked back at Tom, he was observing Andrea intently, but when he noticed you were looking at him he smiled with a raise of his eyebrows and said, “Shall we?”

You nodded and picked up your cup, he did the same, taking a whiff of the beverage before bringing it to his lips. You took a drink of your coffee and surveyed him from the top of your cup, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally tasted the liquid and, as soon as it touched his tongue, he let out an appreciative moan.

“This is amazing!” he commented, visibly impressed.

You set your already almost empty cup back on the table and reached for the half-moon shaped cookies, taking one. “I’m glad to hear that,” you smiled, then took a bite.

“So I can definitely taste the chocolate and coffee,” he stated, “But how is this made exactly? And what is the one you ordered?”

You swallowed the cookie bite and replied, “I’ve been told Marocchino is not actually coffee, but a separate beverage. Although it is made with coffee and also sweetened milk cream, in addition to dark chocolate, of course.” He nodded in agreement. “And the one I got is made with Ginseng extract and milk, mixed with espresso, which is why it looks like watered down coffee,” you explained, “Would you like to try some?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Maybe next time,” he smiled, then reached for the cookies. You looked at him expectantly, ”Wow! These are incredible,” he exclaimed, “I’ve had Cantucci before, but these are really good.”

“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” you joked.

He laughed then said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking. You said you had a meeting that was cancelled, what would it have been about?”

“It’s totally fine,” you reassured him, “We’ve been in talks about my upcoming world tour for the last few days.”

“That’s amazing! Have you worked out the details yet?”

“Not yet, no,” you replied, “The dates for the European part are more or less all decided,” you explained, “But the American part is still a little foggy. Nina, my manager, was trying to keep them pretty cohesive, but the higher-ups have been saying that they’d rather have me take a break after all the European concerts are done and wait a couple of months before we move the tour to North America.”

He hummed pensively, “That doesn’t seem very intuitive,” he considered, “When are you going to start travelling around for it?”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand and said, “Oh, not until next May, so there’s still a lot of time to argue about specifics,” you joked. “What about you?” you asked him then, “Any new projects in the near future? Something to do with tonight’s dinner?”

“Tonight is actually for some promotional appearances for that voice acting project I told you about before,” he responded, “But I should start on something new in a couple of weeks...”

You spent the next hour talking about work and pleasantly chit-chatting about your personal lives. The atmosphere of the café made you feel at ease more than the restaurant had a few days before. Something about the familiarity of the environment and the repeated experience of going out with Tom helped you relax like you hadn’t quite been able to do the first time you’d eaten together. Tom seemed just as serene in the more low-profile setting. Either way, you barely noticed the time passing by, marked by the arrival of a text from your sister some hour and a half later.

You ignored it at first, unwilling to interrupt the conversation and be impolite, but when more texts kept coming, you had to excuse yourself and check in case of an emergency.

“Ben just broke up with me,” the texts said, “Can I sleep at yours tonight? ” and then, in lack of a response, “I'll be there at seven.”

The surprise and worry must have shown on your face because Tom asked you, “Is everything okay?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologised, putting away your phone, “I really don’t want to cut this short, but my sister just told me she’s coming over to sleep at my house.”

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “Something with her boyfriend. I’m honestly so sorry,” you insisted.

“Oh, no, please, it’s okay,” he reassured you, “It’s almost time I get going, too. Let me use the restroom first and then we can go, okay?”

You nodded. He quickly left the table, so you started gathering your things, putting on your coat and taking out your wallet from your bag. When he came back, you waited for him to do the same and told him, “I’m gonna go ahead and pay.”

He hesitated, then told you with a guilty look, “I already did that.” You were about to protest, but he continued, with a conciliatory smile, “I promise I’ll let you pay next time.” You didn’t believe him, but you dropped the issue with a small shake of your head and a playful roll of your eyes.

Soon enough, you walked out of the café, waving goodbye to Andrea at the counter. You couldn’t see his mom anymore so you mouthed, “Say bye to your parents for me.” Andrea nodded and went back to work, and you finally left.

Before leaving, you and Tom stopped on the curb in front of the café to say bye. “I would have liked to stay a little longer,” you told him, “I’m really sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologise anymore,” he said, looking intensely into your eyes. He leaned a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure we can meet again soon,” he continued, unconsciously playing with the lapel of your coat.

You smiled timidly, “I hope so too,” you told him, “I had a great time, good luck with dinner.”

“Thanks,” he responded, “Let me know if something serious happened with your sister and if I can do anything, okay?” You nodded, he dropped his hand from your shoulder, “I’ll see you soon,” he said finally and turned away with a small wave.

You waved back and turned around, walking in the opposite direction, on the path to your house. When you got there, your sister was waiting in front of the main door, huddled onto herself like she was cold and looking dejected. When she saw you approaching, she ran towards you and buried her head in your neck, expecting a hug. You squeezed her and tenderly caressed her hair back. When you separated, her eyes were wet with tears. “Let’s get you inside,” you told her softly, and took out the keys to the entrance.

Translation of French and Italian dialogue: - talentueuse jeune fille = talented young lady  - Vieni un attimo alla cassa! = Come to the register for a bit! - Gioia mia / gioia, tesoro mio, Bellezza = My joy / joy, my treasure, Beautiful - Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto. = Make sure to hang onto him hard, my love.

Chapter 8 coming soon

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneanna

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #reader x tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x you #fanfiction #reader tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston reader #tom hiddleston fandom

[kittykatthetacodemon]

LONG POST IS LONG

I tried to put a page break in this but I wrote the whole thing in a sleep-deprived rage at three AM on tumblr mobile and apparently it’s uneditable now, you all have to just take my screaming as it is

I’m so surprised and confused every time someone’s like “Aziraphale’s totally gonna fall after the Not-Apocalypse” or like “weird that after everything Aziraphale is still an angel” because no, it really really ISNT. Aziraphale’s the safest angel in existence on that front. Aziraphale will never, ever Fall.

Like, look. Obviously we all agree and accept that Crowley isn’t a Baddie, and Aziraphale definitely isn’t a super pure all the time Goodie. And, like, fuck all the other angels, they’re super huge colossal throbbing dicks, so obviously being a shining example of a good person isn’t the real qualifying factor on the whole angel vs demon divide. Beyond that, based on the way Aziraphale flaunts the rules left and right—LIES right to God’s fucking FACE about his flaming sword—clearly, clearly it’s not obedience either.

So I think the thing that separates angels and demons, for real, isn’t Good and Bad like they all seem to believe, it’s *Faith*.

Crowley didn’t Fall because he was a Bad Guy, he fell because he questioned God, and he’s still questioning Her. He has faith in things he can know and understand and hold in his hands, and She won’t give him that. He hates it when Aziraphale tells him things are Ineffable, unknowable; come on, Aziraphale, what’s going on, is this really for the best? Why, why why why? If She’s really got a plan, and it’s really Good, I can’t see it, so I can’t believe it. And so Crowley’s lack of faith makes him a demon, but it also lets him be a good person—if it’s not Ineffable, if it’s not a Great Plan written in the stars since time immemorial, then it’s not written in stone. It’s changeable. It’s—like the Apocalypse—avertable! FUCK the Great Plan, Crowley’s a demon AND a good guy and the world doesn’t have to come to an end!

But Aziraphale. Gluttonous, Greedy, Angel of Earth Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn’t following the rules, but he has Faith, capital-F-Faith. God’s not bad, the plan isn’t bad—so they must be bad angels, right? The plan is Ineffable, it’s unknowable, we don’t know for sure what She wants because She’s not talking to us anymore, but I’m an angel and I do Good and this is Good. Humans and humanity and an earth that keeps on spinning. God told the angels to Love and by God, Aziraphale Loves. He LOVES Earth. He LOVES us, stupid brilliant good evil humankind. And that’s where Aziraphale gets off the metaphorical train to the Apocalypse that’s carrying along all the rest of the angels (who, by the way, all have Faith, too. This is God’s Great Plan and they will Fight the Evil Demons and they will Win The Great War because this is what God wants, this is the end to this great poker game She has set up in the dark. They have Faith. They BELIEVE).

God made humans, and She made Earth, and even after the Flood and the Crucifixion and the French Revolution and the Nazis and every last terrible thing, for Aziraphale and his faith there’s still—the first rain over Eden, and the rainbow, and oysters in Rome, and Shakespeare at the Globe. Sushi, bow ties, rare books. Dinner at the Ritz.

And, of course, there’s Crowley, who’s as much a part of the answer as he is part of the question: are we really understanding Her correctly? Not questioning Her, not exactly, just Heaven’s interpretation of Her words. Are we playing checkers, while She plays chess?

Aziraphale looks at what he’s told is right by the other angels compared to what he’s seen, what he Knows, and he bets it all in the end on pure faith. Faith in himself. Faith in Crowley. Faith in humans. Faith in Her, pure fucking faith! Depressing as it is, he’s even got Faith that if he’s got it wrong, if he HAS misunderstood, then he will lose entirely and utterly because even if it’s not what he wants, not what he believes, She has a Plan and it will happen as it will.

But of course he hasn’t got it wrong. Aziraphale is fucking RIGHT, we all know that. Humanity can see it, even if all of Heaven and Hell can’t. We ate the apple, didn’t we? The Tree of Life, the Knowledge of Good and Evil—we know. Aziraphale had Faith, and Aziraphale got it RIGHT, and I firmly believe that Gabriel and Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon and every fucking wank-wings wandering around the sterile corporate nightmare that is Above is on the list to Fall from Heaven before Aziraphale.

If the angels could make him Fall, if Heaven alone could make him Fall, they’d have done it and never bothered with all that overcomplicated Hellfire business. But they can’t. It’s not up to them, it’s up to HER. And fuck the other angels, fuck Heaven and Hell, fuck the Apocalypse As It Was Written. If She didn’t knock him down Below for lying with Her voice in his ears and Her divine light shining like a spotlight in his face, there’s no fucking way she’s doing it for being the only blessed angel on earth (pun fully intended) who has Faith, and Love, and Hope. Who looks Inevitability in the eye and says I think NOT. Who does what’s Right and not just what he’s told. Who sees a tablet carved unchanging and unchangeable out of stone and remembers that angels bend reality every day, all the time; angels do bloody Miracles.

And it works! She lets him do it!

If there was ever a moment when he might Fall, it was just before Armageddidnt, before he made his choice to go on Faith and Good and What Was Right as opposed to what Gabriel and Michael and the Metatron told him, where the conflict between the two could have broken his faith; but it didn’t, and he didn’t, and now that trial has been passed. He was right, and he knows it, and he doesn’t ever have to doubt that. Faith unbroken, faith REWARDED.

No way he’s Falling now. No way.

#good omens #and if anyone wonders how aziraphale justifies the whole lying to god’s face thing #think about it like this: remember how rp tyler had so much trouble telling crowley his car was on fire? #surely the man MUST know? hes sitting in it! #aziraphale did what he did #and he lied #and god didnt strike him down for it didnt make him fall then and there #so that must have been part of the plan too #she knew she KNOWS shes always known #how else could his sword be an instrument of War and a sign of the long-planned end of the world #if he hadnt given it away how could the end come as planned? #it couldnt #she knows she knew shes always known!!!!

[rowansparrow]

Rex x Reader Commission PART THREE

I swear up and down I already posted this but apparently Tumblr ate it so here it is again! The final part of my commission for @hyperboa

Tag List: @elenawrit @igotanaddixon @hyperboa @clonemutual

Part One    Part Two

Tip Jar      Commission Me

True to his word, Rex tried to come by your apartment as much as possible, even if it was only for a few minutes. As the due date inched ever closer, Rex had begun formulating strategies for how best to get you to the hospital – or rather, not, given you were having a clone’s child and if that got out it would be a disaster – and the best solution he had come up with thus far involved two of his men.

“You’ve met Fives.” Rex explained to you one day in your kitchen over breakfast. “I’d trust him with my life. He knows about you, obviously, and if I’m off planet or otherwise indisposed when you go into labor, Fives is going to bring Kix – Kix is my medic, we can trust him too – and they’ll help you.”

“You expect me to have our daughter here?” You asked him, incredulous. “Why not go to an actual hospital?”

“Y/N, we can’t risk that.” Rex shook his head. “I know what they’ll do to me and you, but I can’t imagine what will happen to her.” He blanched at the thought. “I don’t want the longnecks getting their hands on my daughter.”

You nodded seriously, knowing he was referring to the Kaminoans, the species that created the clone army. “Alright… so this Kix, he has experience with childbirth?” You asked hopefully.

“He’s dealt with pregnant civilians in the field before.” Rex nodded. “He’ll take care of you, I promise. And I’ll be there with you as soon as I possibly can.” Rex added.

The plan had helped reassure you, because as the months went on, it truly did make you nervous not having any sort of backup around the house to help you if you went into childbirth. It’s not like Rex was right there beside you all the time.

In the final weeks of your pregnancy, you took off work, confined mostly to your apartment. The only thing keeping you sane was converting the spare room of your apartment into a nursery, hanging up a little mobile you’d made yourself of tiny model republic starfighters, and a little clone helmet you’d crafted out of flimsi. You worried that might be a bit too forward, but you could always wave it off as patriotism, if anyone asked.

That’s where you were, sitting in the chair next to the crib in your completed nursery, singing softly to yourself and to your unborn child, when your water broke.

The contractions had been off and on the past few days, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. You knew it was common for women in their first pregnancies to have false contractions. Now, that didn’t necessarily mean you were going into labor yet, but once your water broke, you knew it was for real.

“Oh. Oh kriff.” You cursed quietly, pushing yourself to your feet. A contraction hit you like a wave, stronger than the ones you had felt in the past few days, and you paused for a moment, catching your breath. “Oh, hang in there, baby girl. We’re gonna call your Papa.” You whispered out loud, shuffling into the kitchen and grabbing your commlink off the counter. You called Rex first, focusing on your breathing so you didn’t panic or pass out.

The commlink rang for several minutes, long enough for another contraction to ripple through you, before you gave up and switched tactics, instead calling the second comm channel Rex had given you: ARC Trooper Fives.

He answered almost immediately.

“Y/N?” He asked, his voice already concerned. “Is it-?”

“Yes.” You answered breathlessly, clutching your stomach as you winced again. The contractions were getting worse. “Baby’s coming.”

An unholy string of curses, followed by the abrupt sound of armor being jostled together. “Ah, alright, err – stay calm, Ma’am.” Fives sputtered anxiously. “I’ll call Kix, did you try – Kriff, Rex is in a briefing. I’ll see if I can get a message through to him, maybe get him out in time. Don’t panic.” He told you, sounding rather panicked himself. “Kix and I will be there soon.”

“Alright, thank you Fives. Please hurry.” You hung up, taking the commlink with you as you made your way back to the bedroom, grabbing the towels you’d had prepared on the chair next to the bed for the past several weeks. You also headed to the kitchen, hoping to get a basin of warm water ready for Kix as well, before he arrived.

Another contraction hit you as you grabbed a bowl, and you dropped it in surprise, shattered pieces flying across your kitchen floor. “Sithspit,” You muttered, starting to bend over to try and clean them up, when the aftershocks of the contraction hit you again, and you gasped, clutching your stomach.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Fives and another soldier marched through the door, dressed in civilian clothing.

“Y/N!” Fives squawked, quickly offering his arms for support. “What are you doing, you should be in bed!”

“Fives, clean up this mess and get me a bowl of warm water.” The second clone, Kix, ordered quickly, taking you from Fives’s grip and helping you back to the bedroom. “I’m Kix, ma’am. I’m the lead medic for the 501st.” He introduced himself hurriedly, spreading out sterile sheets he’d brought with him and helping you lay back on the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Scared.” You answered truthfully. Kix opened his pack, rifling through his bag and coming up with a small syringe.

“This will help with the pain.” He promised, carefully injecting it into your arm. “It’ll help relax your muscles too, make it easier for me to get the fetus out.” He explained. “Now, I just want you to do whatever your body tells you, okay? It knows what to do, you just tell me if anything feels wrong, and remember to breathe.” He checked the chrono on the bedside table. “Right. This is your first child, so it will probably take its sweet time. I’d get comfortable if I were you.” He told you, closing the door to give you some privacy before hiking up your tunic and working your leggings off. “Fives can get you anything you need – I won’t let anyone in but Rex, ma’am.” He reassured you yet again.

You nodded, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay… okay.” You exhaled slowly, nodding yet again. Kix chuckled softly, patting your knee in a small gesture of kindness.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. This will all be over before you know it, and you’ll be able to meet your…”

“Daughter.” You supplied, smiling nervously at Kix.

“Right. You’ll be able to meet your daughter in person.” He turned toward the door. “I’m going to get what I need from Fives, and see if he got in touch with the Captain yet. Your contractions are about eight minutes apart right now, and you’ll start going into labor once they get to be about five minutes apart.”

You nodded again, and Kix stepped out of the room.

~

The next few hours were a whirlwind. Kix kept carefully feeding you ice chips and patting your flushed face down with a cool washcloth as contraction after contraction ripped through you. Fives, as far as you knew, was waiting in the living room.

“Where’s Rex?” You panted after one of your worst contractions yet had subsided.

“He’s stuck in a briefing. He can’t leave without it being suspicious.” Kix supplied, staying very calm throughout everything. “He’ll be here as soon as he -.”

You cut him off midsentence as you cried out, another painful contraction searing through your body. You heard a commotion outside the bedroom door, followed by a voice.

“Kix won’t let me back there, sir, I don’t know if-.”

The bedroom door thundered open, and Rex strode into the room, face flushed and still in full armor.

“Sir, I thought we agreed we’d dress as civilians to avoid suspicion.” Kix frowned, looking his Captain up and down.

“There was no time.” Rex snapped, kneeling next to you. “How are you?”

“Better now.” You promised, smiling weakly up at him. “We’re gonna meet our daughter soon.”

Rex nodded, grinning shakily as he took your hand.

“Alright, this is it.” Kix announced, getting ready. “Big push on three.”

Kix counted off, and you squeezed Rex’s hand in your bone-crushing grip, to the point where you visibly saw Rex wince.

“Alright, keep going.” Rex coached, looking between you and Kix for instruction, patting your hand gently as he held it. “Another big push, one, two, three!”

You cried out again, and Rex lifted his other hand to stroke through your sweaty hair.

“I know, love. I know. You’re doing amazing, you’re almost there.” He promised, looking back at Kix. “One more, one more. One, two -.”

This time, instead of three, you heard it. The most beautiful sound in all the galaxy. A soft, quiet cry of an infant baby.

“Got her.” Kix called from the foot of the bed, working quickly to clean both you and the baby, taking care of you both.

“Rex?” You asked, looking anxiously up at him.

Rex didn’t answer, focused on Kix at the foot of the bed. He was still busy with the baby, brow furrowed as he inspected her closely. “Kix?” Rex prompted. Kix smiled, pulling the sheets down to help cover you up a little better as he wrapped your daughter up in a blanket.

“Congratulations sir, and to you, Ma’am.” Kix told you both. “You’ve got a healthy, beautiful little girl here.”

Fives poked his head in, peering around the edge of the door. “Can I come in now?” He asked, keeping his voice low. Rex nodded, allowing the ARC Trooper to step fully into the room. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would’ve laughed at the priceless look on the war veteran’s face when he saw Elora.

“Little gods, she’s perfect!” Fives whispered, looking over Kix’s shoulder. “Can I hold her?”

“Absolutely not.” Rex shook his head, reaching for the baby. Kix chuckled.

“Might want to take off some of your armor first, sir.” Kix informed him. Rex let go of your hand, stripping out of the top half of his armor in record time, nudging it off to the side as he once again tried to reach for his daughter. This time, Kix obliged him, settling the baby girl carefully into Rex’s waiting arms. “Watch her head.” Kix cautioned Rex, nodding to him. “Fives and I will clean things up while you three get acquainted.” He smiled, nudging Fives back out of the room.

Rex was breathless, staring down at the tiny baby in his arms. When he looked up at you again, he had tears in his eyes. “Y/N, she’s so beautiful.” He whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. “She’s so beautiful.”

He shifted his grip, carefully passing Elora over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind so he could hold the both of you. Rex was right, Elora was gorgeous. Soft, caramel colored skin, and bright, honey colored eyes blinking sleepily up at both of them. Rex’s eyes.

“She looks like you.” You told Rex, smiling up at him. Rex chuckled, wiping at his eyes.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been happy to hear somebody looked like me.” He whispered, brushing his fingers across the soft down on the baby’s head. “I love you, Y/N.” He smiled down at Elora. “And I love you too, my beautiful little girl.”

You leaned into your Captain, letting Elora wrap her tiny hand around your finger as she drifted off to sleep. All was well.

~

#commissions #ro writes #Captain Rex #Captain Rex x Reader #Rex #Rex x Reader #Star wars #star wars the clone wars

[silkyskykitten]

@gamer-paws okay Tumblr mobile's shitty HTML errors ate my first post so let's try this again. >w>

==1. How long have you been a furry?==

God, I have little to no true idea at this point. All I know is that I figured out what furries were in late middle school and my first stash of furry art was saved onto about 4 or 5 floppy disks because the computer my family had was ancient even for the time. So I'm gonna say I've technically been a furry since around 2004 or 2005 or so.

==4. Tell us the story about how you became a furry==

Basically for the longest time I had always had a fondness for cartoons and games with anthro characters. I had a small period where I was OBSESSED with the Disney Robin Hood movie in elementary school, I loved Star Fox to death as a kid, became a massive pile of Sanic trash in 5th grade along with growing a massive crush on Sally Acorn and Tails, and so on and so forth. Then I accidentally stumbled upon a Sonic porn site, got WAY too "excited" about it heh, and secretly tried digging for other things. Eventually I found the now long defunct Furry-2-Furry forum and got a proper taste of what Furries were (as well as a LOT more pr0nz for my then new and still growing to this day collection), and I realized "well shit, I'm a furry."

... it all went downhill from there. :P

==21. Nya or awoo?==

Well seeing as I'm a snowy howler doggo, I'm gonna Awoooooooooooooo until the end of time. >:D

==38. Refsheet?!==

It's a tad old and I really should get a new one, but this be it: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/16158585/

(I'm saying fuck it and just linking it because Tumblr mobile hates me I swear)

==123. 5 fetishes your sona is absolutely down with?==

Vore (specifically same-size soft-oral, unbirth, and anal), Face Sitting, Fisting, Breastfeeding/Lactation, and Abdominal-bulges-due-to-large-cocks/toys.

==130. Let’s skip the formalities, got any nsfw art of them?==

Well duh, what true furry DOESN'T? ;P (...okay no offense to those who don't I just tease)

Here are a few choice favorites:

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/19464060/

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/20274420/

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/24423630/

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/26847992/

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/20025758/

#furry #ask meme #silky answers the things #silky's fursona #silky's fetishes