but because this doesn't change the fact that he still abandoned his friends

anonymous asked:

hey, i don't know if you write smut, but in honor of the leaked scene, could you write a established!bughead drabble, where he climbs her window and is all flirty? (doesn't have to be smut tho, just a hot make out).. i love your writing btw

(Okay, a little disclaimer. First of all, this is not full on smut, it’s just a hot, slightly smutty make out. Second of all, I didn’t make it full on smut, not because I didn’t want to (believe me Cole tempts me to sin and sin badly) but because I didn’t feel that Bughead’s first time would be like that and I didn’t want to write a random smut without first writing about Jughead not being sure about his sexuality and him and Betty generally testing the waters and all of the other normal things teenagers go through. I intend to write something like that because, asexual Jughead or not, Betty and Jughead are two teens that have a natural naivety and a mutual respect to one another so I believe that, as we saw in the kiss too, they would be timid and taking their time with exploring what they are comfortable with and testing their limits. So I left that for another one-shot. As for the part that Jughead might be asexual. I respect that and I’m not trying to erase anything of his (possible) character here. For what I have read and heard from other ace people and friends, yes, he can still be asexual. Asexuality is a sexual orientation, sexual behavior does not change that. Like every other sexuality it has subcategories; the “I dislike sex”, the “I find it ok, but I do not engage in it often”, the “I’m asexual but my partner makes me feel good” etc.  In my mind, as I became older and kept reading the comics and understanding more about sexuality and educating myself on the topic, Jughead fell to the third category for me. That he was being somebody with maybe a lower level of sexual interest but with sexual drive nontheless. So that’s what I have in my mind while watching Riverdale and writing this one-shot and the possible others that will revolve around this topic in the future.

Sorry that was so long, I just wanted to set some things straight and by all means I’m not trying to offend anybody. Everybody ships what they want to ship and that’s perfectly ok! Ship wars are just tiring and pointless so everybody stay calm and respect everyone’s opinions. And if Jughead does end up being asexual with no need to engage in any sexual activities then sure, everyone should be again perfectly ok and not bitch and moan that he won’t get to have steamy scenes or anything. He is still going to be the most amazing guy in Rivedale either way! 

End of my huge rant!! Hope you enjoy guys!! <3)

 Is your mom finally asleep?

I think so yeah. Why?

I’m coming up ;)

Betty locked her phone and shot up from her bed, abandoning her worn-out copy of Wuthering Heights pages first on the mattress and kicking her covers, a nervous excitement pouring down on her belly as she heard the familiar crack of careful footsteps on wood. She gave herself a quick once over on her vanity mirror, checking that her messy bun was intact and straightening her plain white t-shirt, before kicking off her bunny printed fuzzy socks of her feet and throwing them under her bed in a hurry. It wasn’t the fact that he wouldn’t appreciate them, he would and he would probably offer her that chuckle of his that set free a million butterflies inside her chest, but her toe nails were painted a lovely baby pink and it was a shame not to show them off, even though his focus would be on other places, more important ones. She felt her cheeks heating at that and she quickly grabbed her strawberry lip balm from her nightstand, applying some on her already soft lips with her ring finger, knowing that this taste mixed with her own always drove him crazy.

Since that day that Jughead had climbed up her window so for her to complain to him about her parents and her family situation, it seemed that this became a thing for them. At first, he was just sneaking up because they needed a quiet place to discuss investigation plans and theories, the office hours of Blue & Gold proving not to be enough. Now, two months after, the raven haired boy used that ladder almost every night to see his beautiful girlfriend, cuddle with her and watch movies and most importantly kiss her like she was the heavenly droplets of water on his always thirsty lips.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

May I ask you something that's not so much in Mor's favor? Don't you think that she should have told Az that she doesn't want him that way? She didn't need t come out to him in order to do that. Another reason to add how this whole plot was done horribly. It made her seem.. Not a great friend. She also said that she likes things the way they are to Feyre, she doesn't want to change things, it's comfortable for her (Az, her, Cass thing). I just.. Wish that all of this is different completely.

Right *rubs temples* we have finally reached a point I have been struggling with with this whole Mor…fiasco which is the tension between my desire to drag sjm through the mud for the way this was written…but also my intense desire to protect Mor’s choices as a queer character having agency with her own identity. This ask is going to be dedicated entirely to the latter (okay maybe not ENTIRELY but when I’m talking about  how Mor acted I’m going to do it in such a way that’s just ‘I wish all of this hasn’t happened how it did but it has and I’m working with what I’ve got here’) Clunky disclaimer out the way, let’s pick this apart… 

Right, first off,I would like to point out that it’s canon that Mor did actually try to talk to Azriel about this after he found her in the Autumn Court. However he wasn’t really listening and was doing some babble-confessing of his own at the time and she panicked. She was seventeen years old and the boy who just saved her life, who she knew she couldn’t be with, tried to tell  her that he loved her and she had no idea what to do so she panicked. After that it’s not really surprising she struggled with trying to explain things to him. 

Then  I think it’s important to remember a lot of things about the dynamic between Mor, Cass, Rhys and Az early on in the series when she knew Az and might have told him. So she’s only known Cassian and Azriel for two weeks when the whole Incident happens. The situation Mor is in is a  hell of a lot more complicated than ‘I slept with this one dude and this other dude loves me but I’m queer I’m not sure how to tell him’ (which is complicated enough in itself) 

Mor owes her life to all three of them at this point. Azriel saved her from the Autumn Court. Cassian and Rhys got her out of the Court of Nightmares and then proceeded to keep her out. So not is she indebted to them for saving her she is also completely reliant on them for her freedom. At this point in the canon we’re dealing with an extremely vulnerable queer girl who has been brutalised beyond belief and has only just been able to get out of her abusive situation. If the relationship she has with Cass Az and Rhys deteriorates she has nowhere else to go but back to her emotionally abusive homophobic family. 

Factor into that that she’s recently had sex with Cassian, largely because of Az and his jealousy over the two of them, and then walked away from that and the fact that she knows Azriel is in love with her but that she can’t reciprocate…I’m not surprised she’s terrified of telling them the truth. She’s grown up being told people like her are selfish and awful and that they should be forced into marriage and breeding regardless of how they feel about it, she probably believes that’s how Az and Cassian definitely, since she’s only known them about 3 weeks, will react to her. And Rhys grew up with them, they’re his brothers, she’s probably petrified of telling them the truth about her and having them all reject and abandon her which leaves her with nowhere to go but back to her father. I don’t blame her for not telling them. 

Then the War happens and she’s away from them all for a while and falls in love with Andromache and she has to go through losing her (twice) completely alone because no-one knows and she can’t tell t hem. She says herself that there was no-one for a few decades and like..Those aren’t circumstances where I’d feel like adding a whole  heaping pile of angst on top when she still isn’t sure how the boys will react so she just bottles things up and hides them away again. 

And then…Things settle out a little bit. The dynamic between her and Cass and Az finds something like what we see now, the three of them all tied together and loving each other just in different ways. And then she has to start trying to accept herself (Andromache was her first female lover and after that fell apart Mor was alone for decades, it’s hard to talk to people about something you barely understand or accept yourself) 

She has to unlearn the vile homophobia that she grew up with, she has to coax herself into trying to be with a woman again after what happened before, she has to try and explore this part of herself without letting anyone know…That’s hard. And so she finds Velaris, she finds Rita’s and at last she has a little safe place, a place where she experiment and be herself and so she does.  But that’s a safe place, a place that’s just hers, a thing that’s just hers, that no-one has yet managed to take away from her or destroy, and she feels this desperate urge to keep it safe because it’s all that’s kept her from breaking at times, knowing that no-one has ever truly known her

All of this takes time. Mor is healing and I know she’s a strong, confident woman when we meet her in ACOMAF and she’s had while to process all of this but…Abuse and that sort of homophobia and the trauma she was subjected to on top of then losing the only person she’s ever truly loved…That takes a lot of healing, that takes a lot of time to slowly build up an identity and a self-worth and by the time that happens…She needs the people around her. She has a support system in place and she deeply loves all of them. 

If she suddenly reveals that she’s queer that’s going to mess up her relationship with everyone in the Circle (except, perhaps, Amren) But everything will change and she’s only just managed to find herself and a place where she belongs and she has NEVER had that before. Cassian and Azriel both had difficult childhoods but they also both had Rhys and Rhys’ mother. Mor has not had a single positive, mutual, respectful relationship before Rhys, Cassian, Azriel and Amren. That is so fucking important for her recovery and her stability and I cannot find it in myself to shame her or hate her for wanting to keep that whole. 

Not to mention the fact that she knows this will hurt Azriel. And she loves him. I don’t care what bullshit that coming out scene spouts about her not being able to love him ‘the way he deserves’ because of her sexuality (which I have issues with) because she loves this man in a very deep, unconditional way and this will hurt him and she can’t bear that. 

So there are a lot of pressures surrounding her keeping her sexuality hidden. She’s petrified of her family, of the homophobia she grew up surrounded by and she wants to keep this one tiny piece of herself hidden from them, so they never truly know her and therefore can’t own or break her. She’s petrified of losing the Circle, who she owes her life, freedom, power and stability to, they’re her support system and the only truly positive relationships she’s ever known. of course she’s terrified of losing that? And she’s scared of hurting Azriel and wrecking her relationship with someone that she truly and genuinely loves, even if she doesn’t want to be with him romantically. 

Also I think, when you mention that she didn’t have to come out to explain things to Azriel I think….In this case it’s complicated by them? She’s already walked away from him once while he was trying to tell her that he loved her…If she just goes to him and tells him that she can never ever be with him without the context of her sexuality…That’s going to ruin him? And she knows that. She knows how he sees himself and she’s probably terrified of offering up that rejection because the Circle is Az’s safe space and support network too and she loves him. She cannot just say ‘I don’t want you, I never will’ because then it will just…sound like he’s not good enough for her and he never will be? It’s going to sound like a ‘him’ problem than it just being the way that she is and she knows that would shatter him. (You can argue all you like that this is an Azriel problem and it’s not on her to fix or attend to his insecurities, and it’s not, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her to just shatter him like that? This is the reality of their situation) 

Also, on the subject of her not wanting to change it…I want to make it clear that I don’t think this is actively good for her. Like, I’m sorry, but if you think that Azriel, a straight man, is suffering more for Mor not feeling like she’s able to come out, feeling ‘petrified’ of facing him with this, than she is…I don’t know what to say to you. 

Being closeted is not fun. It’s not a little ‘straight passing’ card that you get to wave around so you can blend in with the normal people and not get noticed, it’s hard. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It’s constantly having to censor yourself whenever you’re talking to people, constantly worrying if they’ve figured it out even though you’re not ready, this constant paranoia and this guilt that builds up and the frustration and the hurt at not being able to be yourself. 

This situation is harming more exponentially more than it is Az and when she says that she doesn’t want it to change that’s not her being selfish. at all. 

(Especially when, as Mor told us herself in ACOMAF, she could peel her clothes off in front of Azriel and he wouldn’t move. He isn’t ready for this relationship anyway. He could have gone to her as well at any point in these 500 years and approached her about this and he hasn’t. Mor is not the only one maintaining this stasis between them and telling herself it’s ‘good enough’ this thing is mutual. 

Azriel isn’t technically losing out on anything by this because he hasn’t tried to make a move or talk to her about it and isn’t ready for the relationship himself? Maybe he could have moved on if she’d given him a concrete no but like…After five hundred years…He could have damn well just decided to move on for himself, like I’m sorry. A man should not need a flat out rejection from a woman (which, you could argue that he’d gotten when she walked away from him when he told her he loved her) to move on with his life, okay. 

He could have made that choice for himself she is not stopping him making that choice and she is not ‘stringing him along’ either, she isn’t hinting that oh maybe some day this might happen, not today but maybe tomorrow, she’s avoiding the subject and she has Cassian buffer them ffs to try and protect her from this. That’s not stringing him along, like, sorry) 

“Whenever Azriel makes his feelings clear, like he did with Eris … It’s stupid, I know. It’s so stupid and cruel that I do this, but … I slept with Helion just to remind Azriel … Gods, I can’t even say it. It sounds even worse saying it.”

“To remind him that you’re not interested.”

“I should tell him. I need to tell him. Mother above, after last night, I should. But …” She twisted her mass of golden hair over a shoulder. “It’s gone on for so long. So long. I’m petrified to face him—to tell him he’s spent five hundred years pining for someone and something that won’t ever exist. The potential fallout … I like things the way they are. Even if I can’t … can’t really be me, I … things are good enough.

Right, regardless of how you personally view Mor’s sexuality (bi/gay/queer/whatever you wish) the fact of the matter is that, in canon, Feyre states THREE TIMES that Mor did not enjoy sleeping with Helion and that she got no pleasure out of it. She’s described as ‘pale and vacant’ the next day and during the coming out scene Feyre actually thinks of her as looking ‘tortured’ okay, she is not enjoying this. The fact of the matter is, Mor is repeatedly having sex with men…For Az. To keep him at a distance. This is…Like I’m sorry but if you can’t see how fucked up that is (for HER) I don’t know what to say to you. She’s repeatedly putting herself in sexual situations she may or may not want that she does not seem to enjoy…For Azriel. 

She is suffering here, okay. She is closeted, that’s painful, that’s hard in itself but she also has this to deal with. Azriel’s affection has kept her closeted (in part) all these years and she is PETRIFIED of facing him with this?? How can this possibly be purely selfish on her part? How is she the only one getting flack for doing what she needs to do to keep herself safe

Especially when it’s hurting her like? ‘Good enough’ it’s just..It’s like Lucien’s situation in the Spring Court. That was ‘good enough’ for him, yes he was being abused  horrendously, no he didn’t have any real agency or power over himself or freedom or love or respect but it wasn’t the abusive shithole he was trapped in all those years so it was ‘good enough’. 

That’s what this good enough is, okay. She cannot be herself. She cannot openly love who she wants to. She has to suffer heartache and grief alone and isolated because she can’t tell anyone how she feels. She is ‘petrified’ of facing Azriel. She is closeted and that hurts. She is also GUILTY AS FUCK. She’s doing all of this, hiding herself, hurting herself, sleeping with people she doesn’t get any pleasure out of, and has been doing this for five  hundred years and she still feels horrifically guilty about this. She’s said in that coming out scene too that she wants to be able to love Azriel the way he deserves but she can’t. She’s tried to change herself and has hidden herself and hurt herself all for this relationship that she doesn’t want, that makes her uncomfortable? 

She likes things the way that they are  because these are the first people who accepted even a part of her. They love her and they respect her and they treat her with dignity and gave her basic fucking needs from a relationship and that is ‘good enough’ for her. Because she grew up with emotionally and physically abusive homophobic parents who accepted no part of her, who treated her like an animal, or worse, and then she found this…She found this love and respect and of course she doesn’t want to change it. Of course she doesn’t want to lose it. Of course she’s terrified of telling them and seeing that same hatred that lived in her parents’ eyes. Even if she knows it’s irrational that doesn’t matter. She’s a terrified queer abuse victim and she is suffering, she cannot be herself, but that’s good enough because what choice does she have, really? 

Mor is a closeted, scared, vulnerable, abuse survivor who is petrified of losing the only safe space that she’s ever had just because of who she is. She is suffering 100 times more from this situation than Azriel or anyone else in the Circle. I will not sit here and call a queer character selfish or a bad friend or any of it for doing what she feels she has to to protect herself. Especially not when most of the things that she’s doing are more damaging for her than they are for anyone else. I love Azriel, I relate to his character a lot, but I’m not going to sit here and prop up this ‘oh no poor boy’ while Mor gets thrown under the bus because she is afraid. 

Her identity is her own and this choice, revealing this part of herself to who she chooses, is one of the only pieces of ultimate agency that she has ever had. I won’t say she was wrong to keep it hidden, keep it safe, if that made her feel okay. Mor’s situation is not ‘good enough’, Mor’s situation is deplorable and painful and I refuse to call her selfish for maintaining something like this because she is absolutely terrified of the alternative. 

Queer people have the right to be in the closet for as long as they need to be in order to feel safe. It is not for anyone else (especially not straight characters a la Feyre) to tell them when they should come out. They are not ‘liars’ for being closeted. They should not feel guilty for being closeted and keeping themselves safe. That’s a disgusting way of looking at things and it’s an incredibly damaging mentality to have. 

‘Out and proud’ is great, okay, but it’s not possible for everyone. A queer person’s safety comes first and if they feel that they need to keep their sexuality hidden in order to do so that is their choice. And it is not up to anyone, especially those who have no way of understanding what this feels like, to judge them or shame them or guilt-trip for that. It’s not selfish to want to protect yourself and not risk ruining the relationships you have with those around you for the sake of telling them something they do not have a right to know unless you choose it. 

In the end I will chose validating and defending a queer person’s decision to keep their identity hidden for their own personal reasons and safety over the feelings of anyone who feels like they might have been entitled to know this every. Single. Fucking. Time. 

Who else dad is weird like this 🙄
  • *in another world at another time*
  • Me: *gets text*
  • Dad: Hey, who's my favorite daughter?
  • Me: Dad?
  • Dad: Hey there, dear. 😉
  • Dad: Last time I checked I was. 😂
  • Me: *out loud* Oh my god!
  • Roommate: Please stop screaming, I'm in a very intense debate about the merits of socialism with an online friend, and I can't concentrate with you making such a racket.
  • Me: Socialism? Aren't you incredibly rich and vain?
  • Roommate: I'm a Trotskyist, you fool.
  • Me: Who cares! My dad's alive!
  • Roommate: I wasn't aware that your dad was dead?
  • Me: Neither was I. I thought he had just abandoned me and my mom all those years ago. I have quite a story about it. When I was about 14, my dad took me on a road trip to go to IHOP for a delicious breakfast. After we had finished, he got up to use the bathroom and never returned. He left me stranded in a strange IHOP two states over.
  • Roommate: You traveled two states away to go to an IHOP?
  • Me: I mean, it was a road trip.
  • Roommate: How do you know it's your dad?
  • Me: Check my phone, it says dad right there. Of course he's my dad.
  • Roommate: It could be anyone.
  • Me: There's no one else in my contacts with the name dad, other than my dad, ya goober. In fact, with every new phone I've gotten I always added his old phone number to the contacts in case of a moment just like this.
  • Roommate: Even still, don't you think it's suspicious that your father is contacting you via text nearly a decade after he abandoned you?
  • Me: No.
  • Roommate: Not even a bit?
  • Me: No. *buzz* Oh, he texted me again!
  • Dad: Hey, who's my favorite daughter?
  • Me: Me, of course! 😘
  • Dad: No.
  • Me: What?
  • Dad: You're my fifth favorite daughter.
  • Me: I don't understand.
  • Dad: I have six daughters and you're my fifth favorite one. The sixth one died in a scuba diving accident.
  • Me: So I'm your least favorite daughter?
  • Dad: No, don't think of it like that! You're not my least favorite daughter, you're just my least favorite LIVING daughter. 😉
  • Me: That doesn't make me feel better.
  • Dad: Ah, it doesn't matter. You remember me, your dad, the big wacky goofball! 😝
  • Me: I remember you trading my bicycle for coke.
  • Dad: It's a thing of the past, my daughter who I love the least. I don't want to worry about the past, let's meet up and discuss the future.
  • Me: OMG You want to meet up? Where?
  • Dad: IHOP, for old time's sake, but this time let's make it the one in town.
  • Me: *out loud* Oh my god, I'm meeting up with my dad!
  • Roommate: I'm right here, you don't have to yell.
  • Me: I'm so excited. I'm reconnecting with my father. Most girls can only dream of this moment.
  • Roommate: He honestly sounds like a terrible person.
  • Me: People change.
  • Roommate: Yeah, sometimes they become worse.
  • Me: You're just overly pessimistic because you're a goth and also a Trotskyist.
  • Roommate: Eh, I can't deny it.
  • *later at IHOP*
  • Me: *waiting at table* I can't wait to see my dad again. I wonder what he looks like. I bet he's a businessman now. Oh, or maybe he's a priest. *notices commotion at the front of the store* Hmm?
  • Waitress: Sir, please wait to be seated.
  • Disheveled Dude: I'm meeting up with someone, you flighty broad. There's not much time. Get out of my way.
  • Me: *internally* At least that guy isn't my dad.
  • Disheveled Dude: Oh, there she is. *runs and sits at my table* Oh my god, is that my little girl. You've grown up so much. You look way too much like your mom. It's bringing back some really bad memories. I'm sorta regretting. Just joking. Hahaha. WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR WAITRESS, I'M TRYING TO EAT HERE!?
  • Me: What a coincidence it is that the horrible man making a scene at the front of the restaurant is my dad...
  • Disheveled Dude: What's with the distant look on your face? You're acting like you saw a ghost. Haha, maybe you do think I'm a ghost. Hey, sorry about leaving you at the IHOP all those years ago. Kinda got bored of the whole dad thing. JESUS CHRIST, CAN YOU GUYS FUCKING HURRY UP AND GET US A WAITRESS. F-Fuck. *wipes sweat off forehead*
  • Me: Dad?
  • Disheveled Dude: WHAT!?
  • Me: *jumps in seat*
  • Disheveled Dude: Sorry, I've been really on edge recently. *nervously looks over shoulder* Where the fuck are these waitresses?
  • Me: Dad... *gets teary eyed*
  • Disheveled Dude: Oh god, are you gonna start crying on me.
  • Me: *sniffles* I'm sorry, I just missed you so much.
  • Disheveled Dude: Yeah, yeah, I missed you too. Time to move onto the next thing. Inheritance. Uh, I'm gonna die eventually, so you can have all of my money. *put suitcase stuffed with cash on the table and pushes it towards me* You can just have it now, for all I care. I mean, you never know when I'm gonna die.
  • Me: Dad, I don't want your money. I just want to spend time with you.
  • Disheveled Dude: Well, you can spend all the time in the world with me once you accept the fat wads of cash in this suitcase. I just need you to say verbally that you're accepting this money from me as a legitimate form of inheritance.
  • Me: Dad, please. I just want to talk to you.
  • Disheveled Dude: Come on and take the fucking cash, Elizabeth.
  • Me: My name's not Elizabeth.
  • Disheveled Dude: Okay, whatever. Take the money and clearly dictate that you are accepting the entirety of this money as a legitimate form of inheritance from your loving father. You can use it for college, you're college aged right. Or prenatal care. I don't fucking know. What shitty kid doesn't want FREE FUCKING MONEY!?
  • Me: *stands up from seat* Dad! You're the worst ever! I hate you! *runs out of IHOP sobbing*
  • Disheveled Dude: Fuck, I knew that wasn't going to work. *notices how dark it is outside* It's almost here. I wasted so much goddamn time. I'm never going to get rid of this thing. FUCK!
  • Waitress: *nervously* I can help you now, sir.
  • Disheveled Dude: Oh, so now you show up. I'm not so hungry now. In fact, I've lost my entire damn appetite.
  • Waitress: I'm sorry, sir. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry.
  • Disheveled Dude: Which one of those cars outside is yours?
  • Waitress: The red one.
  • Disheveled Dude: That broken down piece of shit?
  • Waitress: Yes.
  • Disheveled Dude: Guess, there's no other choice. It'll have to do. Give me your fucking keys.
  • Waitress: What?
  • Disheveled Dude: *points gun at waiter* GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING KEYS!
  • Waitress: *drops keys on the table*
  • Disheveled Dude: *tosses wads of cash at the waitress* That's easily $200,000. Go buy yourself a better car. You might want to make it quick. *runs out of IHOP*
  • Waitress: *watches disheveled dude speed off* Why is it so dark outside and where did everyone go? I guess it doesn't matter now, though. $200,000. That's a lot of money. I wonder what I'm gonna do with all this? I'm so excited that I'm lightheaded. The future is so bright now.
  • Wall of Darkness: *encroaches*

its-a-goddamn-heartbreak  asked:

We've had a looootttt of Cain comforting Damian recently (bc obvs Cain is perfect and pure and all the good things in life) so I was wondering if we could have something where it was the other way round, and Damian has to worry about Cain... (maybe Cain gets a stomach bug and it makes him so weak and shaky he can't take care of himself but he doesn't want to go to the hospital because needles. Or you know, something along those lines 😊)

A/N: So this is Part 3 of Cain’s Trilogy! Here are Parts 1 and Parts 2 ! I’ve really, really enjoyed writing this series and I really hope you’ve enjoyed reading it! (And I’d love to know what you think!) 😊   Special thanks to @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak for all your amazing prompts and your help - you are super!  💙

“You look absolutely dead beat…” Damian commented as Cain sank heavily into one of their sofas. Damian looked across at his friend in concern as he sighed and sank his head into his hands. 

“I am,” Cain replied wearily. Cain’s recent spell of bad health had left Damian extra worried. The dark circles under Cain’s eyes were close to resembling pandas, and even though Cain was normally on the slim side, his angular features jutted out – making him look skeleton like.

“Why don’t you go and have a sleep?” He suggested, watching as Cain yawned and rubbed one hand across his face, but he shook his head.

“If I sleep now I won’t wake up again till morning,” Cain said mournfully.

“Why don’t you just do that?” Damian asked. “You look like you need it…”

“I know…” Cain sighed again. “But it’s what I’ve done every day this week, and I really need to get some work done…”

“You’ve not been well-” Damian started.

“That was over a week ago,” Cain cut in over him and Damian bit his lip. He’d been keeping a closer eye on Cain in the past week since he’d last been sick, but he could see clearly that Cain hadn’t bounced back to fighting fit. He was still tired, very lethargic, and not eating properly.

“I know, but you need to give your body the chance to recover,” Damian told him firmly, “and it isn’t instantaneous…”

“I know!” Cain sounded exasperated and emotional; Damian felt bad at how miserable Cain looked.

“You know Jesse is worried about you?” Damian changed tack; he’d said to Jesse that he wouldn’t say anything about the conversation they’d had last night, but it might just be what Cain needed to hear.

“What? Why?” It sounded like this had upset Cain more, his face had fallen slightly.

“He’s worried about you!” Damian answered. “He thinks you’re not eating enough to build you back up, and he could play the xylophone on your ribs…”

“I’m not – I just…” Cain tried to get a sentence out but his words failed him, and he felt like his insides were in knots. “I can’t help it that I’ve not been hungry…” Cain felt like he wanted to cry. Today had been long, and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball on his bed and sleep. He knew he didn’t feel 100%, in fact, he barely felt 30%, but it wasn’t pleasant to hear that his best friend and his boyfriend had been discussing him. “What do you think?” Cain asked, staring at Damian in his most threatening manner.

“I…” Damian shrugged slightly, then seemed to take the plunge. “I think you should go and see a doctor, see if there’s anything weakening your immune system which is making you more susceptible to these viruses.” Cain went cold at the thought – he knew if he saw a doctor right now, the first thing they would do, would be a blood test. That was totally out of the question.

“No,” Cain said firmly, and Damian sighed. “You’re a doctor…”

“No, I’m not,” Damian corrected, “not yet anyway.”

“I’m not going to see a doctor,” Cain crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

“I didn’t think you would,” Damian stood up from his chair. “How about this – I’m going to be making dinner, why don’t you have a nap through here, and I’ll wake you up and we can have dinner together?” He suggested, looking across at Cain, who unfolded his arms.

“Well…” Truth be told Cain really didn’t feel much like eating; his stomach had felt so tight and small the past few days that anything over the size of three tablespoons was too much… but he could see the defiance in Damian’s face and knew this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“No,” Damian said firmly, “I’m making dinner and you’re going to have some, so what you do until it’s ready is totally up to you…” Damian left Cain on the sofa, feeling conflicted and confused.

He picked at a thread on the sleeve of his t-shirt absent mindedly. He hated the thought that Damian and Jesse were worried – but he knew if it was one of them, he’d feel the same. He didn’t like the way Damian was forcing him into this – he didn’t feel ready… Even today at lunch time his stomach had felt unsettled, and he hadn’t been able to tell whether he was actually nauseous or just hungry… And after two bites of his sandwich, his mouth had been so dry he’d abandoned it for a bottle of water instead. The thread had pulled out of his shirt, and he ran it through his fingers. He closed his eyes, he was so tired…
“Cain?” Cain was partially conscious when he heard Damian’s voice, but he didn’t open his eyes. He could smell the tang of cooked tomatoes, and his mouth watered but still his stomach swilled inside him. “I know you’re not asleep Cain, your breathing changed.”

Slowly Cain opened his eyes and saw Damian holding a plate for him; he sat up from where he’d slumped against the arm of the sofa and reluctantly accepted the plate.

“It’s spaghetti Bolognese,” Damian told him, sitting in the armchair and retrieving his own plate. “It’s gluten free, obviously, but that should make it easier to digest…”

“Thanks,” Cain murmured, but he was staring down at the plate and trying to tell himself that it was very appetising.

“Come on,” Damian encouraged, his mouth already half full, “eat…” He pointed his fork at Cain, who picked up his own.

The strength of the taste was almost overpowering, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. He could feel the mouthful travel all the way down his throat and ending in his stomach. Knowing Damian was watching him, Cain took another few forkfuls, but on the fourth mouthful he felt the food stick like a lump in the back of his throat, nearly causing him to gag and he drank a large gulp of water to make it go down. He’d put his fork down onto his plate, thinking he’d probably had enough for it to be deemed acceptable, but Damian spotted it instantly.

“No,” he said, pointing over at his plate. “That’s not enough.”

“But-” Cain began to protest, but Damian was having none of it.

“I guarantee you will feel better when you’ve got a full belly,” Damian insisted.

 “My stomach’s hurting though,” Cain replied, rubbing his hand across his abdomen. “I don’t think I can fit any more in.”

“Your stomach will have shrunk with how little you’ve been eating recently,” Damian told him, loading another amount of spaghetti onto his own fork. “You need to push it a little bit until you get back to normal.”

Reluctantly Cain picked up his fork and took a minuscule amount; this was going to be a challenge…

“Well done,” Damian picked up the empty plate from Cain’s knee, “I’m really proud of you.”

Cain laid his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he chose not to reply. Contrary to Damian’s guarantee, he did not feel better with a full belly. In fact he felt distinctly worse, and the uncomfortable unsettled sensation had frown into full on nausea – the sort that made him fear opening his mouth in case everything in his stomach rushed up and out of it. So he sat very still, trying to find a way of breathing that would some how circumvent his overfull stomach being jostled or squished. But even as he sat there, his head seemed to be swirling like he was on a waltzer at the funfair, making Cain giddy and light-headed. He wanted it to stop. He was so drained that he could barely move, and so he stayed – one hand gripping tight on the arm of the sofa, and the other resting gently on top of his stomach.

“Cain,” Damian came back into the room and tapped him on the shoulder. “Cain, you should go to bed if you’re going to fall asleep…”

Cain felt beleaguered. He’d already been convinced into eating when his stomach had felt funny beforehand, and now he was being encouraged to go to bed when right now he barely had the energy to open his eyes. He was really beginning to feel unwell, his stomach churning round and round inside him as he sat very still in the hope that it would pass; he was sure he was sweating and the hand resting on his stomach felt wobbly.

“Cain?” Damian repeated, sounding a little exasperated. “Come on Cain…” Cain slowly opened his eyes, and felt like the giddiness he’d been feeling tripled; Damian was standing right in front of him and he jerked his head to the side. “Bed.”

Bllluuuuuuuuurrrrrgggh!” Cain didn’t even know what had happened until suddenly there was sick dripping down his front, pooling warm and wet in his lap. It took another few seconds for him to clock the sour taste in his mouth, and his chest to heave again before he fully comprehended that he’d been sick. “Hhllllrrr!!” Another heave burst out of him and more puke fell into his lap.

“Cain!” Damian was taken aback, and clearly alarmed by this sudden, unannounced bout of vomiting.

“Don’t – don’t feel well…” Cain slurred, his mouth feeling overly liquidy as he tried to refrain from gagging again.

“Oh no,” Damian sounded horrified, then he moved to Cain’s side and tried to help him off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No – ulp,” Cain struggled, he couldn’t move at all without feeling worse. “Get bin…”

“Okay,” Damian didn’t seem to want to argue with Cain, springing off the sofa he emptied the rubbish bin on the floor and brought it to Cain, who’s hands were shaking so badly he could hardly grip it. He hugged it close to his chest, hanging his head over the rim weakly.

Hhhhrrrruuuuuuuuuuulllk!” Cain brought up another round of puke splattered into the bin, then continued retching harshly. His stomach was being compressed, forcing everything up.

“Oh shit Cain,” Damian put his hand up to Cain’s back, rubbing it in gentle circles at the base of his neck. His fingers brushed the skin of Cain’s neck and he was instantly alerted to the head. “Cain!”

“What?” Cain slurred, not raising his head from the bucket; Damian placed his palm onto Cain’s cheek and felt the sticky warmth of fever.

“You’ve got a temperature!” He said, and his heart sank as he realised that this wasn’t just the result of packing too much food into Cain’s shrunken stomach. “Oh, you’re roasting!”

“ ‘m dizzy…” Cain muttered slowly, his eyes were closed. “Buuuuurrllllf!”

“You’re dizzy?” Damian asked, putting his hand firm on Cain’s shoulder to keep him steady. “For how long?”

“Before I – urp – puked…” Cain gagged wetly, he felt pitiful.

The sick that had gushed down his front was seeping into his jeans and t-shirt and was growing cold, making him feel sticky and dirty. His eyes burned, a tight knot seemed to grow in his chest and, just as unexpectedly as the first wave of sickness, a sob burst from him.

“Hey, hey – Cain?” Damian’s voice was gentle, and his fingers lightly touched the side of Cain’s face. Cain forced his eyes open, and as he did so tears spilled over onto his cheeks and dribbled down his face. “Oh no, don’t cry! It’s okay! You’re going to be alright!”

“I just…” Cain sniffed, unable to stop the tears from leaking out. “I really don’t feel well Damian…”

Damian looked at his best friend, covered in sick and tears, clutching the bin as close to his chest as was possible, and then bit his lip. He knew what he should do, but he also knew Cain would not like it.

“I think I should call a doctor…” Damian told him slowly, but Cain’s eyes went wider still and he howled harder.

Please – don’t make – me!” He cried, his chest hitching with sobs that turned into a dry heave. “Hrrrk!! Urgh… Hbbbrr!!!

“Alright, alright, I won’t…” Damian reassured, but the worry in his chest increased as Cain managed to bring up a small mouthful of bile. Cain was horrifically white, sweat and tears stained his cheeks, and his chin was coated with sick; but he looked so miserable and scared that Damian couldn’t help take pity. “Come here,” Damian wrapped his arm around Cain’s shoulder and pulled him in towards him; ignoring that he was covered in a plethora of bodily fluids, he held him tightly. “I won’t make you, I promise…”

“I’m – sorry…” Cain burbled, and Damian could feel him shaking in his grip.

“I want you to promise me something though?” Damian said slowly, holding onto Cain as though he was an anchor in a storm.

Mmhmm?” Cain gulped, his sobs dying down as he was held secure.

“When you’re done being sick, and you’ve cleaned up, and had a rest, I want you to call your mum…” Damian replied gently. “You need to tell her how ill you’ve been, and ask her to come and get you.”

“But-” Cain objected, but Damian talked over him.

“You need to go home – self certify for a week, go home and be looked after and rest…” Damian told him. “We’re worried about you Cain…”

Brrruuulllp!” Cain had pulled away to belch emptily over the bucket.

“Please?” Damian asked, still holding onto Cain as he trembled.

“Okay…” Cain nodded eventually, panting weakly.

“Thank you,” Damian breathed a sigh of relief. “Until then, I’ll make sure you’re okay… I’ve got you.”

Stefan still doesn't understand Damon

Here is what I find interesting…everyone is congratulating Stefan for finally coming to the party and supporting Damon…but no one is really looking at what Stefan is actually saying and how completely damaging it is to the way that Damon sees himself. 

Stefan: Listen.. I actually think that Elena is good for Damon. She makes him happy and we all know that when Damon is happy…..

Caroline (finishing Stefan’s train of thought): He’s not out there killing people, which I guess is a plus for mankind.

Stefan: Exactly. (5x12)

This is what I find so completely wrong about how Stefan thinks of his older brother, he thinks that in order for him to be good, he needs Elena…that with out her, he is a monster. Because when he came to town, after being around Elena…he changed. This idea has been projected onto Damon, so much so, that Damon himself thinks that it is true…that the only way for him to be good is to have Elena by his side. When in reality, Damon is innately good…because he loves the people he surrounds himself with so strongly, that occasionally it breaks him, but that aspect of him makes him an amazing person.

Stefan still doesn’t see this. This is reminiscent of the number of times Stefan has said…let’s leave the murdering to Damon. Because that is what he sees…a murderer, who was softened by Elena’s compassion…that the only way to keep him in check, is to have Elena by his side. Stefan still doesn’t see the person that Damon was before Elena even existed….the person that would have rather died than be without the woman he loved…the person that missed his younger brother and was willing to go to war, just to be with him…the person that held onto the fact that his brother would miss him after being sold out to Augustine, only to be left abandoned, but still survived 5 years of being tortured day in and day out…and the event that caused him to turn it all off wasn’t the malicious ways in which he was experimented on, it was having to betray a friend and leave him to die.

The fact that Stefan thinks that Damon needs Elena to be a good person….the fact that he is trying to get Damon together with Elena to keep him from killing, isn’t a good thing. Damon needs to be told…reassured that he is a good person. That he is a good brother…Stefan should apologize for what he has done and said to Damon…apologize for not caring where he was for 5 years, and appreciate the person that he is. Saying that he is better with Elena is extremely manipulative and undermines who Damon is…because the person Damon sees himself as is a monster…and when Katherine said those words to him…he believed him because those were the words that people have uttered his whole life…even before he transitioned. Because Damon has never felt worthy of love…and the best thing that Stefan can do for Damon in this moment, is show him love.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Clint had been sent to find and kill the Winter Soldier when he made the different call.

He’d known it wasn’t going to be an easy mission.

Assassinating an assassin was a hard enough job under the best of circumstances, and add to that having to actually find the assassin, and the fact that the assassin was basically a ghost…. well.

What Clint hadn’t (but should’ve, probably.) seen coming was the Winter Soldier finding him before he’d even so much as gotten a solid tail.

Spotting a glint on the roof across the street was the only thing that’d saved him, giving him just enough time to dive and turn a kill shot into a stinging graze. 

He’d gotten off one arrow in return, aimed straight at that shining metal.  And he could only assume it had hit its target since (aside from the fact that he rarely missed) the sniper rounds stopped coming and the tracker implanted by the arrowhead was now on the move.

Or, more precisely, it had been on the move, until about a half hour ago. 

The abandoned warehouse where the tracker was now rooted didn’t provide a lot of cover, but fortunately, Clint didn’t need to get too close.

He maneuvered silently among the rafters, toward the sound of indecipherable voices, until he reached a vantage point that kept him hidden but gave him a clear view of the scene.

The second he peered down, his knew in his gut that something was… wrong.

The Winter Soldier was strapped to some kind of makeshift operating table and a doctor (or, Clint hoped it was a doctor — the guy looked about as sketchy as the building they were standing in) was cutting an opening around the arrow imbedded in his ribs.  But though he remained almost perfectly still for the procedure, his eyes were open and his hands clenched as the scalpel pierced his skin; he was awake.

Surrounding the whole scene, a circle of soldiers in full swat gear held weapons trained on the injured assassin.

Clint didn’t know who these guys were, but he was pretty sure ‘aiming machine guns at your top operative while he’s undergoing shoddy medical treatment’ wasn’t exactly standard operating procedure… anywhere.  Are they planning to do my job for me?

The voices he’d followed — which, he could now hear clearly, were speaking Russian — belonged to two men in expensive suits standing farther away, watching with clinical detachment.  Clint wasn’t completely fluent, but he could understand enough—

“His memories have a way of surfacing with physical trauma; we can’t take that risk.”

“It was only one arrow.”

“We have no choice.  Tell the doctor to wipe him as soon as repairs are completed.”

“You do realize he hasn’t completed his mission; our team found no trace of Barton’s body.”

“Fortunately, he won’t know that.  We’ll just give it to him again.”

“Yes, of course.”

—and as the two men went their separate ways, Clint didn’t waste a moment on hesitation.

A twenty minute firefight and a somewhat lengthy call to SHIELD for an extraction team later, Clint was standing at the foot of the operating table amidst a pile of bodies with arrows sticking out of their vital organs, and the Winter Soldier was staring back at him with a cold, vacant expression.

“What do you say we both just ignore those orders to kill each other and get out of here instead.”