#though *he* didn't come up with them. I did. after saying it first and then he says it won't work for x reason and then in the end we end up

[tea-leavez]

꩜Pet Names ~ Reversed꩜

Prompt: How do they react when you call them a pet name for the first time?

Characters: Anaxa, Cipher, Mydei, Phainon

A/N: My friend actually gave me this idea and its is so cute I've been itching to write it for awhile now! Glad I finally got the time to sit down and do it (๑>◡<๑)

꩜Anaxa꩜

You honestly didn't even really mean to call him by a pet name, well kinda. You wanted too just to test the waters but when it actually happened it was more of an automatic thing.

Whatever he was saying at the time your words completely shut him up, which is surprisingly rare. Once Anaxa gets started ranting he's not gonna stop until he's debated himself into a corner or he makes a new discovery.

Regardless, he sort of just stares at you for a second, he doesn't look dumbfounded but you can tell he's feeling something similar.

the dead silence of the room is enough to make you nervous before you breaks it with a sharp, almost threatening tone, "What did you just say?"

You try to brush it off telling him you didn't say anything but he hits you with that disappointed teacher, "Uh uh, tell me the truth."

And you do cause when he looks at you its like he's staring into your soul and the consequences of lying outweigh the cost of the truth.

"Was that so hard, dear?" The shit-eating grin he lets crawl onto his face was both infuriating and adorable. Not that you could do anything about it with the way your head is spinning.

Maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

꩜Cipher꩜

Your hands where carding sort of mindlessly through he hair at the moment. You where admiring the way her silver hair shined under the light.

You didn't even register the fact that you had called her by a pet name when you asked her to tilt her head a specific way so you could braid her hair.

"Don't call me that." Cipher mutters under her breath as her tail swished nervously.

"Sorry." you mumble and let the awkward moment be tense for just a moment longer before continuing the motions of your hands.

With Cipher you had to go slow, be understanding, wait for her to be ready. And you would be.

because you loved her. And if that meant working through her fears with her than you would stay by her side until she conquers them.

꩜Mydei꩜

There really isn't a story when it comes to Mydei it all feels more like a natural progression than one certain moment.

If was just one moment through it would have to be the first time you called him 'my prince'--jokingly of course.

The two of you weren't together at the time but you still remember the way a furious blush climbed up his neck and over his ears. He tried his best to blame it on anything else really. The hot weather, just having finished training, or whatever other excuse he could make up.

It was cute--seeing such a mighty warrior so flustered.

After that though you calling Mydei 'my prince' became a regular occurrence. He got used to it pretty quickly and it just ended up being a joke between the two of you, it still is.

꩜Phainon꩜

"Hey love, can you hand me that plate?" you say pointing at a dish sitting alone on the kitchen table.

"woah woah woah, say that again." Phainon's quick to say, while already moving to do what you asked, his excited eyes still fixed on you.

"can you hand me that plate?" You ask again confused.

"no before that."

"Hey?"

"After" He drawls impatiently.

"Love?"

"Yes darling, beloved, love of my life?" Of course he has to go the extra mile.

You hear the clink of a plate sliding into the sink before his arms wrap snuggly around your waist.

When you meet his eyes he has that dopey grin plastered on his face, "Can you say it again." he pleaded like a little puppy.

"Yes my love, I can say it again." You giggle as small kisses plant themselves over your cheeks and nose, really anywhere he could reach.

[samcarter34]

So, there's someone in the reblogs who who compared this to Kingsley, and I've been mulling over whether or not to do a follow up (btw, just because the internet is the way it is lately, if you feel the urge to be rude to this person, don't.) Because, suffice to say, I very much do not agree that Kingsley as a character is remotely similar to Vax coming back.

First of all, the obvious. Vax didn't even come back in the same campaign he died in, whereas Kingsley did come back in the same campaign Molly died in.

But in terms of narrative, Kingsley's existence was justified by the entire concept of Molly's character. Molly outright states in Fleeting Memories that who Lucien was doesn't matter because it isn't him, Molly started existing when he dug himself out of the grave. That's the entire character concept, that Molly is a person with no past whose persona is informed by his surroundings. The only way to maintain true to that character concept was that the person resurrected couldn't identify as Molly.

And on some level, this was definitely known because I remember people 'joking' about him coming back but not as Molly. I distinctly remember one post about the Mighty Nein coming across him and him not recognizing them. So the idea that he would get 'reset' was even acknowledged in the fandom. I suspect, though, that the assumption was that the Mighty Nein would encourage him to remember and embrace his identity as Molly rather than accept his new identity. However, given how much identity had become a theme with the Mighty Nein, ultimately it would make sense for them to try to force an identity on someone else.

Also, I do feel like it's worth pointing out that player decision has always had veto power of dice rolls when it comes to resurrection. We know that from campaign 1 from Percy, ironically also a Taliesin character. Regardless of what the rest of Vox Machina rolled, left the decision to Taliesin on whether or not it would work. It's just that the cast was able to avoid all of the hard nos, and Laura inadvertently found a hard yes by having Vex confess her love to Percy.

Now honestly, had the entire last arc not been about Lucien, I would have a problem with them randomly deciding to resurrect Molly 100+ episodes after he died. However, the narrative put Lucien in the spotlight, so it made sense for Molly to be on their minds, and so I feel the resurrection felt earned (especially with the divine intervention success) and I don't believe Taliesin* undermined the actual resurrection because 'who I was before isn't me' is baked into the character concept

Compare this to Vax's death. Scanlan/Sam literally cries because he has to give up his ninth level spell slot to stop Vecna from escaping. Further, when the Raven Queen comes for Vax, Scanlan tries to beg for 1 single more night with him so he can get his spell slots back. Because there is an understanding all but explicitly stated that if Vax goes with the Raven Queen, he's gone. Nothing, not even Wish can bring him back. This is further reinforced by everything that's come after. In the Wedding oneshot, Scanlan does finally cast Wish for Vax (and loses it!) he only even tries for a few moments, because the chance to get him back wholesale is gone. And Liam's acting decisions reflect that too. Vax acts distant and remote because the Vax they loved and lost is gone. Hell, here's what the Tal'Dorei Reborn Campaign Guide says:

The Champion isn't even Vax. He's literally an angel of death born from Vax's oath to the Raven Queen. Yes, there is still an aspect of Vax within him**, represented by the antlers growing out of his shoulder, but everything Critical Role put out made it clear that Vax was gone. Until he randomly wasn't, because 'blah blah bad times feel good blah'.

I'm sorry but that is not at all comparable to a character being resurrected after being brought back into narrative focus and the player making a decision that held true to both the resurrection and the core character concepts. All of which happen in the character's actual campaign

*I would also like to take this time to acknowledge that in the year 2025 I am still seeing people say that if Jester hadn't cast Greater Resurrection than it would have been Molly, and her doing that is the only reason Kingsley exists. With such confidence, like it's a known thing that was revealed by the cast directly and not a piece of bullshit someone pulled out their ass because they didn't like the narrative decision. The person whom I responding to I'm fine with, the people who earnestly believe this I have nothing but disdain for.

**I've always felt that Vax would remain the Raven Queen's Champion until Vex died. His initial oath was his life for hers, so once she passed, she would be the last soul he acted as psychopomp for and then they'd pass on together (well, them and Trinket since his life is bound to hers)

At this point I'm largely 'it was what it was' vis a vis campaign 3.

But occasionally I'll think about how the climax of campaign 1 is Scanlan having to sacrifice his one chance to save Vax's life in order to stop Vecna from escaping, how the cast has multiple times acknowledged how strong the story of the tragedy of Vax is. Then I'll think about they consciously made the decision to undermine that, and I get a little annoyed again.

[starsmao]

| kiss the cook. trey x yuu!reader

pairing: trey x reader

content: fluff, gender neutral yuu!reader, ace deuce and grim being assholes, trey being the cutest and housewife material

notes: sorry for any spelling errors, english is not my first language

“Oh!” Trey is surprised, seeing you at the library instead at the school's cafeteria. “Hey, Prefect! What are you doing here? And where's Grim?” He asks, curious. Then he hears you leave a loud groan, looking at him with desperate eyes. “He left me!” You say with a dramatic look on your face, your head hitting the table. Trey sits next to you, lightly tapping your shoulder in empathy and comradery, even though he is confused. “Ah… Why did he leave you though… ?” He asks, hoping it won't get you even more dramatic than you already are. You sigh, looking at him again as you cross your arms. “He went with Ace and Deuce to the new fast food that opened. And they didn't wait for me. So I am… I am kinda disappointed. It's stupid, I know.”

You tell him, leaving another sigh as you look in the void, not wanting to see the look on his face. Who knows, he's trying not to laugh at you.

But it's not what he's doing. He smiles gently, gently touching your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes widen, cheeks slightly blushing from the sudden contact. And you see his sweet, gentle smile. The one he always has, and the one that is incredibly charming. You don't understand how he's not popular. He really is attractive, for a boy with such a basic look compared to the boys at school.

“Come on, stop being so blue.” He tells you, gentle smile. “I will make something for you. What would you like?” And now there is something adding even more charm. And he's willing to make something for you? Does Trey Clover even have flaws? Well, he might have one. His weird obsession with teeth. But hey, no one's perfect, right? Happy, you nod and your eyes look like they have sparkles in them. Trey just giggles, getting up from his chair and giving you his hand.

“Nice, let's go then.” You pick his hand, feeling its warmth against your palm. You blush again, following him quietly as he holds your hand, the both of you heading to the Heartslabyul dorm.

Once you were here, you sat not too far but not too close so he could focus and cook for you. You watched him and observed his moves as he carefully prepared everything for you. He was faster than usual, and you didn't know it was possible. Man, Trey is an incredible guy. He really never lets his classmates down, even not the ones from other dorms, and the ones that have no magic at all, in your case.

Judging by the smell, you conclude that he is done. And he is, indeed. He puts the plate on the table in front of you, looking at you with a huge smile as he takes off the apron he used. It's a pink apron with a white heart on it, with the words “Kiss the c♡♡k” written in pink on the shaped heart. You refrained from giggling whenever you saw it. It's so silly, but so funny.

“Tada!” He yells happily, his positive attitude changing your own mood. You don't feel like you're mad at Ace, Deuce and Grim anymore. Because thanks to them, you got to spend time with a cute green haired boy and he made your favorite dish. You almost can't believe it.

“Trey, that looks delicious!” You tell him in a joyful voice, clapping your hands before starting to eat, making happy and pleased sounds as you eat, enjoying your favorite dish. After swallowing, you look at Trey with a curious look. “How did you know I liked this dish?”

Trey falls silent, his eyes slightly widening, then he blushes, looking away and leaving a nervous giggle. “W-Well…” He stutters, and you even look more confused. You have never seen him like this. It's like you asked him to tell you his deepest secret. “You see… You always talk about it, you know… You, you always eat that… Haha…” He ends up saying, not looking confident at all.

Smirking at him and wanting to tease him, your hand lays on his, looking at him with a cocky look on your face. Trey looks at you with a blush, nervous smile on his face. “Y-Y/N?” He says your name, and honestly it sounds so pretty when he says your name, especially with that tone he has. It makes you want to tease him more. You rarely see him like this and it's too funny to miss the opportunity to tease him. “You know, Trey. What you did for me deserves a reward. Don't you think so?” You ask him softly, approaching your face closer to his. You don't know where that confidence comes from, but you can't run back. You have to kiss the cook.

“Oh…” He giggles, nervous and red all over his face. He almost looks like Riddle, right now. “And… Hum… What reward do I deserve?”

“A kiss.” You whisper, as if you needed to. It's just the two of you, here. There is no one to interrupt you. Trey gulps, his mouth opening slightly, wanting to say something, but backing off. Your hand is still over his. You doubt you made him uncomfortable. Nah, you just… surprised him. Because if he was uncomfortable, then he definitely wouldn't squeeze your hand like how he is doing, and he definitely wouldn't approach his face.

Your lips touch each other and it feels soft. Trey kisses you gently, his free hand cupping at your face. He pulls away slightly, the both of you looking at each other, then he takes off his glasses and kisses you again, his face closer than the first kiss and his hand holding the back of your head, as if he was scared you'd leave.

Yeah, you'd have to thank the boys and the cat for abandoning you instead of yelling at them.

[fantennaspam]

Spamton's journey truly is a fascinating one to pick apart. Especially with the context given to us by multiple other characters. Spamton an Addison in the for of SPAM emails, who was unable to make sales unlike his other bretherin. And we can only speculate not only how both parties felt in that situation, but how they acted. Spamton would always keep telling them how he was going to be a big shot. Despite his constant failings, he never let go of his aspirations.

Even after each failure he kept trying again and again. I'd like to hope the other Addisons supported him, but I'm not certain if they ever believed in him. Did they try to be supportive? Did they laugh off his claims? Joke about Spamton behind his back when they thought he wasn't listening? Was Spamton happy for their successes or was some part of him bitter and resentful?

At the end of each day did he agonize over what he was doing wrong? What he could do better? Why did nothing he did ever work? Wasn't he an Addsion too? Didn't he also deserve some recognition? What was he doing wrong? Why won't people pay attention? Why won't anyone notice him?

And then he got the phone call that changed his life forever. Someone who was whispering advice in his ear and it worked without fail. His dreams and his visions quickly became reality. But rather than be happy for Spamton's success the other Addisons distanced themselves from him. Maybe slowly over time. Maybe because they hated that this shrimpy Addison who once had nothing to show for his efforts suddenly had more than any of them had. Maybe it was because they knew or suspected he wasn't working alone.

Whenever the phone rang, Spamton was always the first to answer it. Spamton never missed a phone call. Never mind that none of them could ever understand what was being said.

Did any of them try to get in on his secrets to success? I can't imagine they wouldn't have at asked him at least once. And of course he wouldn't share his secret. He probably wasn't allowed to, and why the hell should he anyway? They were the ones who mocked him, who thought he wouldn't amount to anything. Who gave him smiles of encouragement to his face while sniggering behind his back. Their smiles of pity, their smiles as they humored and indulged his aspirations, their stupid, patronizing smiles as they looked down on him in every sense of the term. They were seared in his mind like the afterimages of bright headlights behind his eyelids.

He still never missed a phone call. He rarely ever let it get past the second ring.

But he certainly wouldn't be afraid to show off just how successful he was. Probably paying for everyone's meals whenever they all went out. 'My treat,' he would say. They used to take turns but suddenly it was always his treat. At what point did they get fed up? Did they all leave at once in a big blow out? Or did people just stop coming to his hangouts, one by one until it was just him sitting in the restaurant drinking alone?

At least he still had his phone calls. He hasn't missed a single one.

Maybe that's when he decided to move out of Cyber City proper and into Queen's mansion. He began schmoozing with the best of the best. The cream of the crop. The specially chosen. Maybe that's when he decide, maybe I'm not an Addison. Maybe I could be something better. Something more. After all, the others didn't have ambitions like him. Not really. Unlike them, he was willing to do whatever it takes to make it big. He had what it took to take a risk, to go where none of them dared or aspired to. They were all happy to stay in their lanes. Him... he would rule the whole goddamn highway.

His phone calls always came first though. Always.

Maybe that's when Spamton decided to change up his looks, to set himself apart. After all, to be a big shot, one needed to stand out. Maybe that's around the time that laptop ended up at the Dreemurr house and Spamton met Tenna.

Both men had what the other needed, wanted. Tenna could help Spamton gain even more recognition. He would be bigger. Better. His name and his products for all the world to see in every home with a TV. And Spamton had what Tenna wanted, the chance to stay relevant. To keep up with the times. To plug in and make it BIG.

As long as Tenna respected the fact that Spamton had to be there for his phone calls. No exceptions.

Both of them are men with high aspirations. And I can imagine how in sync the two would probably feel in working together. The many late night hours of organizing and planning. Plans for the future. Plans of a partnership that would take them both to incredible height they'd only dreamed about. I could imagine Tenna telling Spamton that he has what it takes to be a star, a face that everyone recognizes and adores. I could see him even meaning it.

I can imagine Spamton feeling seen for the first time. Finally there was someone who actually believed in him. Who didn't laugh at him for having lofty dreams, but laughed with him as they toasted to their glorious future. I can see the two exchanging advice after hours, sharing stories, tips and tricks that have helped them along. Tenna is open, wanting this collaboration to work. Spamton is more careful about what he shares. When he shares it. But he is enticed by what Tenna is promising as the two grow closer and more familiar.

At some point, maybe Spamton is practicing his magic, and he creates a pipis. And maybe Tenna walked in at that moment and started asking questions. And maybe Spamton got embarrassed and told Tenna it was a gift for him, since the partnership has been going so well. Tenna, being a sentimental family man, is touched. Even though he isn't certain exactly what it is, he cherishes it. Keeps it hidden and guarded.

Despite all the extra work, Spamton made the phone calls his priority. Any of Tenna's people that just happened to be wandering by could never quite figure out what was being discussed. Sorry boss.

After so much planning, schmoozing, collaborating, after so much time spent working together, Tena implores Spamton to share his secrets. He promises his fame. His face everywhere. Everyone would see his adds. He would get so much more business. All he had to do was just tell him what it took to be a big shot. Maybe the promise of fame got the better of Spamton. Maybe he genuinely felt a connection with Tenna. Maybe he just wanted to succeed. Whatever the case, it was enough for Spamton to overplay his hand.

Maybe he upset his benefactor, or maybe Spamton did everything right and his part to play was simply over. But he couldn't be allowed to run around speaking his benefactor's secrets. Suddenly Spamton's voice was no longer his. His body was no longer his. His will was no long his. He turned from a real success to a puppet on strings, because that's what he'd been all along. Whatever he did, his benefactor, his angel, his friend, was no longer looking out for him. And in reaction, Spamton ran away.

So quickly he had risen, only to plummet ruthlessly to rock bottom just as fast. Maybe even faster. He lost it all. His business, his profits, his place in Queen's castle. When he desperately tried to explain his situation, his words are censored. Replays of advertisements play in wake of his true thoughts, mocking him and robbing him of agency in one fell swoop. He could no longer reach Tenna, and his former friends, the Addisons, were no where to be found. He was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

The phone didn't ring anymore. Even though he waited. And waited... and waited... Sometimes he would imagine it ringing. Sometimes he would wake up hearing it. He would answer. But no one answered back. Nobody came.

But when had failure ever stopped Spamton? He'd heard stories about something incredible hidden away in Queen's mansion. He broke it, attempting to disguise himself as Swatch, the head butler. He found the means to get what he was after, but got caught before he could carry out his plans. Possibly taking a swim in the acid river for his troubles. Security increased from there. But he bides his time, spending his nights in various dumpsters, huddled under trash bags and newspapers. He never stopped trying.

And then along comes Kris...

[her0ine1983]

You're mine. But I'm not yours. #5

explicit rpf below, please don't interact if you are not comfortable with this MDNI!!!

mean!fuckboy joost x reader

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

...thinking of doing the long-ass final fic in two parts...

He doesn't text you for five days.

Which would almost feel like freedom – if you didn't spend the whole fucking time checking.

Every hour. Every minute.

So pathetic.

It's the first time he completely ignores you for that long, without even a single word.

He just leaves you on read.

And even though, officially, there's nothing between you, you still can't stop wondering what the hell you did to deserve that kind of treatment.

It's the sixth night of dead silence.

You're already in bed, half-asleep, when the banging starts. Fists pounding against your door. Loud enough to make your stomach turn to ice.

Your hand scrambles for your phone on the nightstand.

*12:38*

It's him.

Always shows up after midnight.

Always when you're starting to forget the shape of his body and the rasp in his voice.

You get up slowly, wearing his shirt and a pair of loose sleep shorts, heart caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

What if something bad happened?

You unlock the door with trembling fingers.

Joost stands on your doormat, swaying slightly, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, blond strands make up a tousled mess beneath his hood. He reeks of cigarettes, alcohol, and a faint, floral fragrance.

"Hi... prince– princess", he slurs, smirking like he didn't just vanish for days without a word.

"Go home", you say flatly, trying to shut the door in his face.

"Oh, c'mon... I missed you", he mumbles, pushing past you, throwing himself onto your couch like he belongs here.

"Don't fucking do that. Don't show up at my place drunk and act like everything's okay", you say, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Why not? You don't love me anymore?", he lets out a dry, sarcastic laugh, kicking his sneakers up on your coffee table and lighting a cigarette with lazy arrogance.

"You didn't even bother to text me back for days... and the last time you were here... do you even remember what you said?", you glare at him, arms crossed tightly over your chest like armor.

"I have no idea, baby", he replies, blinking slowly, that stupid smirk still glued to his face.

"Of course you don't...", you snap, "You called me desperate. You said I should be grateful when you choose me. When you could have any woman you want."

"Well... was I wrong?", he says, cocking his head slightly as he exhales a cloud of smoke your way.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The air feels heavier than before.

"Don't get fucking righteous on me now, girl... You knew what this was. You agreed to this. And you still crave me anyway", he stands up suddenly, staggering a little, towering over you.

"I didn't know it would start to kill me. I should've ended things with you a long time ago, Joost... I should find a guy who would actually respect me", you whisper, each word burning your throat.

"Baby... I get so fucking mad when I think about you with anyone else", his cold knuckles brush your cheek so gently it makes you sick, "Even just imagining some guy making you laugh. Touching you... like this..."

"But it's fine when it's you and five other chicks, right?", you scoff, "It's okay when I see you with some blonde sitting on your lap in your fucking story while I'm texting you?"

"She meant nothing."

"Neither do I."

That stops him for a second. Just for a second his mask slips. And you can see something behind his eyes that almost looks like guilt.

Then he steps forward, grabbing your hand, pulling you flush against him.

"That's bullshit. You're the only one I keep coming back to", he whispers, his nose brushing yours, "The rest of them? They don't matter. They're not you. I keep thinking about you when I'm inside any of their cunts."

You hate that your body reacts.

You hate that you fucking want him even now.

"So why do you still do it if they mean nothing?", you ask.

He doesn't answer with words.

Instead, he kisses you. Rough. All tongue and teeth. And alcohol breath.

You whimper against his mouth, angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the whole sick situationship.

Why do all your attempts at serious conversations always end like this?

He slams you against the wall, lifts your leg around his hip, grinding into you.

"You're mine, liefje" he breathes, dragging his lips down your neck.

"I'm not, Joost. Stop saying that", you murmur, even though he's right. You spend every day and night thinking only about him. No matter what, he owns you and you hate how true it feels.

"Yeah?", he pulls back just enough to stare at you, eyes wild, "Then why do you always open the door?"

That breaks something in you.

You shove him away with both hands, chest heavy, your voice shaking from the weight of everything you've been carrying for so long.

"Because I'm fucking stupid, alright? Because I think you might've changed. Because you've rewired my brain so bad that I actually believe this is love... That a drunk fuckboy showing up in the middle of the night is the closest I'll ever get to being wanted..."

He looks at you like you've just slapped him.

"I do want you...", he finally says, quietly.

"No", you spit out, eyes stinging, "You don't want me. You want a girl who won't ask questions. Who'll spread her legs when you're drunk, or bored, or ignored by the other girl... the one who left the scent of her perfume on your hoodie..."

Joost clenches his jaw and fists. You wait for him to yell. To call you dramatic. To gaslight the shit out of you like he always does. But not this time.

"Fuck...", he sits down, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, breathing hard.

You stand there, stunned, heart slamming against your ribs like it wants out of this body, out of this flat, out of this life. You never snap this hard on him before.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?", you ask, voice barely audible.

"Because... because I don't...", he falters, looking up slowly, "I don't know... I don't know how to live without you anymore, okay? That's what you wanted to hear from me, huh?!"

You feel how much this confession costs him, knowing how guarded he is with his feelings. You can see it's real – and how deeply it hits you.

"Fine", you swallow hard, not knowing what else to say, "You can sleep on the couch tonight. And leave early in the morning. I have to get up for work..."

He just nods, not even trying to argue. He kicks his shoes off, lies down and curls himself up like a scared animal.

That night you can't sleep at all.

His words echo on repeat in your head, pounding like a broken record you can't switch off, tearing through every piece of your heart.

"I don't know how to live without you anymore."

[bi-panicatthedisco]

Beyond The Screen.

Scarabia Part.

[Heya, author here! Love the scarabia dudes! Kalim may be my favorite out of them, but Jamil has grown on me so much haha. I hope I didn't mischaracterize them too badly lolol, this is one of my first times writing them this extensively. But as always, remember to drink some water and get some rest! And I hope you have a great rest of your day!!!]

One of the last things you would've expected after downloading a game like twisted wonderland, is for the characters to leave the dang game and show up irl! But things rarely go as you expect, and this is something it's nice to be wrong about.

It was a pretty regular day when it happened, just sitting down and playing twst. Only for an impromptu single pull on the banner, turning into SSR particles and a fancy coffin. Of course you're getting excited. But instead of showing your new card, you have the character fall right out of your screen onto the floor in front of you. Oh goodness gracious...

-----------------Kalim al-Asim-----------------

Kalim practically falls onto your lap, he looks excited to see you. He's been waiting a long time to meet the player! They've been really nice to him just like a friend, and he's never been able to say it back! As soon as he realized he was gonna see you in person, he became super happy. Obviously he wants to hug his friend!

"PLAYER!!! Ahaha I'm so glad to see you! This definitely calls for a party! Jamil? Oh, I guess Jamil couldn't come with. Maybe I can go back and bring him, since he really wanted to meet you too? Huh, I don't actually know how to go back though. Well no need to focus on that! I can throw a party just for us right now, then I can figure out how to get Jamil here too so we can all celebrate together!"

And throw a party he did! It might not have been as elaborate as his usual parties back at scarabia, but it was a heck of a time! Even despite the confusion that still is lingering from a Fictional Character showing up in your house. Who's currently setting up a game of mancala, and completely ready to teach you the rules if you don't understand. It's super fun!!

Kalim is having the time of his life, I mean he gets to hang out with the player for the foreseeable future? And they're being really nice to him? This is a dream come true! He knew they would be close if he ever got to meet them. I mean they were really nice to him even while he was just a character to them! He already knows they'll let him stay with them, and he can't wait to get to know them better!

-a few months later-

There's never a dull day with Kalim. Even when he isn't throwing a party, he's pulling you to look at some new thing he made, or a new pet he adopted. Even though he understands he can't buy you as many gifts as he'd want too, having given you his jewelry early on to pay for his stay here. He still makes you a lot of homemade gifts! Often based off the things you do together, when he insists you show him around your world.

Kalim has been having the grandest time as well! Not only has he gotten much closer to you than basically anyone else, but he doesn't have to worry about assassination attempts! Your world is so amazing! He wishes he could stay here forever! That doesn't mean he'll give up on finding his way back home, but... Maybe he put it on hold. And he has to admit he doesn't like the feeling he gets when you mention him going home.

"Huh? Home? Yeah, I've been working on it! I bet Jamil is worried sick about me. But I wanna focus on enjoying the time with you right now! Can we just do that for awhile longer? Please...? Sorry haha, I don't wanna bring the mood down!"

Kalim looks... Anxious? Just for a moment. He doesn't wanna go home if it means leaving you, but he doesn't even know how to say that. He just knows he won't leave if he can help it!

------------------Jamil Viper-------------------

Jamil manages to catch himself fairly easily, not one to be caught off guard by a simple drop. What does catch him off guard however is fully seeing your face for the first time, so close he could reach out and touch it. His breath catches for an instant before he regains his composure. Shaking his head before speaking.

"Ahem, sorry player. It's lovely to meet you. Although I have technically Met you before, through your screen I mean... Nevermind. in any case, I trust you'll let me stay here with you? Unless all those words of flattery were false~"

He has a sly grin on his face as he takes your hand in his, obviously already knowing how much you care about him. And believe me, he's ready to take full advantage of this. Please understand he doesn't intend to misuse your good intentions, but he does fully intend to exploit them as far as they'll go. I mean, you know better than most people who he is, and yet you still care about him. You're either naive, or just don't know what you're getting into.

Either way, Jamil loaths to admit he's grown (very slightly!!!) fond of you through that screen. And will not let that affection you have for him stray, even the slightest bit. Here, he won't have to hide anything or hold back. Here, he can be completely free. So he's not going to let that slip away. He's already planning how best to keep everything perfect, and he's not above using his unique magic should it become necessary. Although deep down, he really hopes it doesn't come to that.

-a few months later-

It's nice having someone around to help with the chores, Jamil knows that more than anyone. So of course he's been doing that for the last few months, and still getting up early to make breakfast before going to a job he was able to get. It was just at a fast food place, but he quickly become a manager. So it's not the worst? He'll never bring you food from there if he can help it though, he doesn't want you eating anything except for his cooking.

He's been becoming increasingly paranoid about you, a strange feeling in his gut whenever you leave your home without him. Worries and doubts just don't leave anymore, except for when you're near and have your eyes solely on him. He's not sure what this feeling is exactly, but he already promised himself he wouldn't hold back at all in this world. Especially when you come up to him and ask again about when he's going home.

"Sigh... We've had this conversation a hundred times, I'm working on it. Don't you trust me? And besides that, is there a reason you want me gone so badly? Here I thought I was one of your favorites. ...nevermind, I made dinner. It's your favorite. Let's just eat."

Hmph he might as well not start a fight, it'd be frustrating to have you upset with him. But he's never going back to that world, not while you're in this one.

[hamliet]

Hamliet, have you known this joke :

"Dracula : written in the hopes that Stoker's gay crush Henry Irving would notice him

Moby Dick : written in the hopes that Melville's gay crush Nathaniel Hawthorne would notice him

Frankenstein : written in a desperate attempt to not hang out with Lord Byron"

As someone who know classical books, can I ask, is it true that the writers above are closeted queer? Or the above really is just a joke?

Victorian author that I know was gay only Oscar Wilde (sorry for my lack of knowledge). Can you see the queer subtext in Dracula or Moby Dick?

I didn't know this joke! But, okay. Let's start.

I think we can't say that such stories are written for such purposes. But the joke does convey actual facts.

Melville

Yes, Moby Dick--and all of Melville's work, actually--contains queer subtext. Yes, the title is a deliberate pun (yeah. yeah.) This is an excellent write up of the question of Melville's sexuality that is both respectful and honest about the reality of it being difficult to assign labels to people from past eras where those labels didn't exist, as well as the reality that we can never assume that such themes being present in works definitely means that those are autobiographical. I think the final paragraph of this article expresses an "answer" well.

Was Melville in love with Hawthorne? It seems distinctly possible. He certainly wrote him very, um, suggestive letters. Such as this one (quoted in the above article as well) regarding Hawthorne praising Moby Dick:

Whence come you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips — lo, they are yours and not mine. I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces. Hence this infinite fraternity of feeling. Now, sympathizing with the paper, my angel turns over another page. You did not care a penny for the book. But, now and then as you read, you understood the pervading thought that impelled the book — and that you praised. Was it not so? You were archangel enough to despise the imperfect body, and embrace the soul. Once you hugged the ugly Socrates because you saw the flame in the mouth, and heard the rushing of the demon, — the familiar, — and recognized the sound; for you have heard it in your own solitudes.

Did Hawthorne reciprocate? There is no evidence that he did beyond friendship.

Stoker

Stoker was Irving's assistant and best friend. He named his son after Irving. He definitely had strong feelings for him that may or may not have been romantic in nature... but to quote the above linked article on Melville, that's not direct evidence, but it is evidence nonetheless.

Also, Stoker was married... to Florence Balcombe, who was previously pursued by Oscar Wilde. Yes, he and Wilde ran in the same circles. Yes, Dracula deals heavily with themes of repressed sexuality, and though it's straight in the novel, you can definitely see how the general idea of repressed sexuality, unapproved by society, would speak to queer readers and interest analysts. If you're interested in such analyses of Dracula, Talia Schaffer's "A Wilde Desire Took Me" is amazing.

Mary Shelley and Lord Byron

Mary Shelley eloped with Byron's friend Percy Shelley (also a poet) and Byron then ran off with her stepsister Clare Clairmont. The four of them ended up in Switzerland for a summer, but the weather was horrible (interestingly, because of the eruption of Mount Tambora in Southeast Asia) and they were stuck inside. With three talented writers, they proposed a challenge to write the best ghost story. Hence, Frankenstein.

Lord Byron was kind of quintessentially the "mad, bad, and dangerous to know" character whose now become the face of an entire archetype, even though it existed before him. Lord Byron (a poet) was bisexual, unambiguously. He definitely had sex with men and women, and that's widely accepted as factual. Fun fact: Lord Byron's daughter, Ada Lovelace, was the first computer programmer in the world.

Other Queer Victorian-Era writers (non-exhaustive)

Hans Christian Anderson (of The Little Mermaid fame) was also unambiguously queer. He may have never done anything sexual though, because his journals are kinda contradictory on this. He told one friend "my sentiments for you are those of a woman." The friend rejected him.

Then Anderson pursued a duke:

The Hereditary Grand Duke walked arm in arm with me across the courtyard of the castle to my room, kissed me lovingly, asked me always to love him though he was just an ordinary person, asked me to stay with him this winter ... Fell asleep with the melancholy, happy feeling that I was the guest of this strange prince at his castle and loved by him ... It is like a fairy tale.

Yeah. Yeah.

Also, while I don't think there is evidence to suggest the author himself was queer, Dostoyevsky actually did write a novel with a sapphic main character called Netochka Nezvanova. It was unfinished because he got arrested and sent to Siberia during the time of writing, but it is a very good read even unfinished.

So, yeah. The moral of the story is that queer people have always existed and, despite censorship, art testifies to this.

[glimmeringsunset]

🫧✩‧₊˚𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒔˚₊‧✩🫧

.ᐟ 𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Sam Winchester x reader | confort

⭑.ᐟ 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: none

⭑.ᐟ 𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: After a long, dirty, and near-fatal hunt, you and Sam Winchester return to your motel room carrying more than just mud and blood—you carry the weight of fear, uncertainty, and the urgent need to be together.

⭑.ᐟ 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

The hunt was long. And dirty.

With mud up to your knees, monster blood everywhere, and tension that only ends when you feel safe with each other.

You return to the smelly motel, which has been filled with silence. A heavy silence, one of exhaustion. Sam barely spoke on the way. Neither did you. You were too tired for words.

You went straight to the bathroom, took off all your clothes, threw them in a corner, not even wanting to think about how to get all that monster goo off. You turned on the shower, letting the warm water, something rare for a cheap roadside motel, fall on you, letting it take all the weight off your shoulders, or at least part of it.

You closed your eyes, trying not to think, just feel. The water ran down your hair, shoulders, back, washing away the dirt, the tension... the fear that always came afterwards.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the bathroom door opening, or the sound of clothes being removed, you only realized there was someone else with you when you felt two strong arms hold you around the waist. You didn't even have to open your eyes to know it was Sam, so you let yourself relax in his arms.

He didn't say anything. He just rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply, as if the simple act of touching you was a relief after everything. His body was warm, even under the warm water, and his presence was steady. Real. A silent reminder that you were alive. And together.

For a while, the only sound was the water hitting the old tiles and the calm rhythm of your breathing. Gradually, the tension that clung to your skin—heavier than any physical dirt—began to dissolve.

Suddenly, Sam decided to break the silence. “I thought... I wouldn't come back,” he whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost among the drops from the showerhead.

You turned, still in his embrace, to face him, running your hand over his stubble. “I'm here. We're here. Together.”

He rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. For a few moments, Sam was not the experienced hunter, nor the intelligent man. He was just Sam, your Sam. “I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

You stroked the wet strands on top of his head, pulling him closer. “You'll never have to find out.”

He opened his eyes and stared at you, making sure to memorize everything about you, even though he had done so many times before, and hugged you again, sliding one hand up to the back of your neck, resting your head on his chest.

You remained like that for minutes, maybe even hours, time dissolving in the warmth of the water and the safety of a mutual embrace. A shelter from everything outside.

Until the shower water became very cold, he looked at you and gave a tired smile. “Shall we go?”

You nodded with a small smile, your lips trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from that exhaustion that goes beyond the body.

Sam turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, drying you completely with great delicacy, as if you were a porcelain doll, and also dried your hair. You did the same for him, even though Sam refused at first, but with a few kisses and caresses you managed to convince him to let you brush his hair.

Sam watched you as you put on one of his T-shirts, and his eyes softened a little. It was as if seeing you there, dressed in something of his, made everything more bearable.

The motel bed was too small for both of you, but you managed anyway, with you sleeping completely on top of him, as if Sam were a second mattress for you.

He didn't complain—he never complained. Quite the opposite. Sam slowly ran one hand down your back, sliding it affectionately, as if he still needed to make sure you were really there. The other rested on your waist, firm, protective.

“I like it when you sleep like this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep, but full of honesty. “It reminds me that you're okay. That we're okay.”

You lifted your face, just enough to look at him. “You hug me as if the world were ending,” you whispered, jokingly.

He gave a small, melancholy smile. “But it might end, and if it does, I want to be like this with you.”

You caressed his face, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers, then the outline of his lips. “Then we'll stay like this. Until the world ends.”

Sam closed his eyes, surrendering to the touch, the presence, the moment. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You leave a quick kiss on his lips before laying your head back down and closing your eyes.

And so it was, in a cheap motel room, still smelling of earth, rain, and clean skin, that you fell asleep.

In silence. But no longer the silence of tension or fear, it was the silence of relief, of love.

[neuroticpeach]

Curses' Break 4

Chapter 4: Fear

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Rui Mizuki x Reader

GN!Reader will use they/them and (Y/N).

CWs for this chapter:

Some disrobing... not all the way to nakedness but some clothes are coming off, still pretty SFW territory

usual flirty/cheesy lines we have come to expect

flashbacks of trauma

ptsd symptoms

angst/little comfort

Click HERE to start at Chapter 1

I HAVE BEEN THREATENED WITH PITCHFORKS IN THE PAST FOR MAKING SAD THINGS HAPPEN TO THE SWEET BBYS. Please do not k!ll me yet I promise this will eventually have a happy ending!!! Gotta get the conflict to make the happy that much better later! ;n;

if you k!ll me I can't write more

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Chapter 4: Fear

The walk back from what you now affectionately thought of as Asrai Pond was a little different than the walk to. 

  After you had finally managed to pull yourself away from Rui’s arms, it was difficult for either of you to keep from taking more chances to almost touch. 

�� You helped pack up food and utensils, and whenever Rui’s gloved hand would mistakenly collide with yours, both of you would linger for a beat, marveling at what part of the other that you could feel: pressure, warmth. 

  When Rui took your picnic blanket to the water’s edge to wring it out, you followed and softly trailed your palm up and down his back, a gesture that drew a soft hum of appreciation from his lips and a flush to his cheeks.  

  And when, all packed, you started back towards the dorms, it was with Rui’s arm around you, his hand resting on your waist, lending you extra balance and security for the short hike. 

  “All this talk about whether I’d get to hold your hand on this date…” Despite your physical proximity, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you; his face was too pink, his heart beating too fast, his voice struggling too hard to stay steady. “And then this? I think this might be even better.” 

  You sighed agreement, leaning your head against him as you trekked. “If we really have your curse broken,” you said hopefully, “I think things are just going to get even better.” 

  He chuckled happily. Here is where I think I would kiss the top of their head, he thought, and if you had looked up at him right then, you would’ve seen the evidence on his face as a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, as a brief moment when the pink of his cheeks shifted to a deeper red. “Sorry I didn’t think to suggest a change of clothes or bring more towels,” he admitted, changing the subject. 

  “No need for apologies.” You wrapped one arm around his waist in return, walking now with your sides as close together as you could manage. “That was an excellent date, Rui. You don’t have to think of everything. Besides…” You felt heat swell to your cheeks at the thought, “where would we have changed if you had?” 

  The basket he was carrying shifted to the crook of his elbow as he clutched his chest. “Oh, sweetheart. Sometimes you are just too much,” he swooned. 

  It was your turn to chuckle. “Learned it from the best~” 

  “I do wish I had had a little more foresight, though,” Rui admitted, emphasizing with a pause in your walk. He stuck up one leg in front of you and wiggled his foot. “Wet socks are a special kind of sensory hell.” 

  Then, just as your destination was coming into view, an idea struck you. You moved quickly, swinging around to step in front of the blond, taking each of his gloved hands in yours as you did so, looking excitedly into his wide and confused eyes. “I have an idea,” you proclaimed. “Come on!” 

  -oOo- 

  They say you never forget your first. 

  It didn't take long to coordinate your idea with Rui. When you asked if there was a more private room available that had a fireplace, his light ruby eyes sparkled with understanding. 

  No matter what kind of first it may be. 

  The two of you felt like you were drunk with affection as the blond showed you how to get the fire going. “Oh, (Y/N). You've got a romantic streak, don't you~?” 

  Rui's first had come as a surprise, when the curse had first taken its hold. 

  Blazing in no time, the fire was proving wonderfully effective at helping to dry out some of your uncomfortably wet clothes. 

  They were a fellow Clementia student: Rui had looked up to them. Yuri wasn't always the only full doctor at Darkwick, and Clementia was the perfect house for a medical professional. 

  Small touches off and on of gloved hand to glove-less, your eyes wouldn't leave one another, though your irises quivered slightly back and forth as he took off the damp jacket. You started taking off the blazer you had been wearing as well. 

  Rui had known he was cursed, and the proper authorities had been notified, but not many knew the extent of the curse’s terrible power right away. 

  The sound of the crackling fire mingled with your breaths as, blushing, you both started to remove layer after layer of wet clothes. You stood a distance apart from him, not wanting to initiate a touch just yet, though the appearance of more of his skin than you had ever seen before was building a knot of heated anticipation within you. 

  “We'll get you a basic physical,” they had explained, patting Rui on his (clothed) back before turning back to his chart. “You know the drill. Step on the scale first.” 

  His eyes widened when you were down to your underclothes, his face burning as he looked hungrily over your form. His mouth opened and shut a few times soundlessly before he finally found the words he was looking for: “You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful.” 

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when Rui took off his shirt and they held the stethoscope over different parts of his chest. “Ah! Cold, Doc!” the ghoul had laughed, and they had chuckled in response. 

  “You know it's contractually obligated to be that way,” they laughed. “Okay. Deep breaths, please.” 

  Surely your blush was flooding down your neck and shoulders at this point, and you nervously laughed when Rui started taking off his two or three necklaces. “You're always so fancy~” you teased. “Don't all those things get heavy?” 

  “Hey, my body is a temple, and life demands the temple be well-decorated,” he laughed, trembling slightly as he slowly started to reach for the hem of his shirt. 

  Everything was fine, until it wasn't. 

  Both of you down to just underclothes now, Rui's eyes widened, pupils blown large with excitement. You could feel your hand tremble as you reached for him. 

  And the “wasn't” came on in an instant. 

  Suddenly, for Rui, a high-pitched tone filled his head and ears as he looked at your approaching touch, and the world he was standing in seemed to fall away. 

  Rui lifted his wrist when asked, and they put two fingers to his skin to count his pulse. 

  “N…No….!”

  The first feeling that would forever embed in Rui's memory was the sound. A choked, gasping cry seemed to follow the greenish-gray mist that spiraled from their mouth and into Rui's, a cry he could feel in his head even as a swelling of energy and vitality (stolen vitality, this was never meant to be his) filled him. Their skin sallowed and shriveled against their bones, and they collapsed lifelessly to the infirmary floor. 

  Every past thought, every past moment that Rui had experienced his curse’s caustic effects came suddenly flooding back to him, and he was there, he was in those memories, watching helplessly as lives were drained away, sacrificed lifeforce to an unwilling thief. He stumbled backward, avoiding your touch mere millimeters from when it would have connected, all color draining from his face, chest heaving and eyes wild with terror. 

  “Rui?” you questioned softly, withdrawing your stretched hand. 

  “I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” he stammered, throat dry, gasping for air. He shook his head hard, tears starting to fall from his eyes as he grasped at his heart, not in his usual dramatic manner but to attempt to slow it, to keep the beating from thrashing in his head. 

  “Rui! Rui, love, it's okay!” you pleaded as he staggered to his feet, crumpled down, and then upright precariously again, unable to keep his balance. “It's okay—” 

  “It's NOT!” His sudden switch to yelling startled you, though you knew it wasn't in anger. “I can't–I CAN'T–!” 

  Trying to think quickly, you grabbed a throw rug from its place before the fire, tossing the thick fabric around his shoulders. As you got closer, he collapsed into it, taking you down with him and pulling it tightly around his body as a barrier. 

  “I don't… I don't want… I don't want to hurt you…!” His sobs wrenched at your heart as you tightened the fabric, rubbing his back and shoulders through the throw rug. 

  “Shhh…. shhh… It's okay. I'm okay. I'm alive. I'm alive,” you consoled, sighing in some relief when the word “alive” seemed to slowly release some of  the tension in the ghoul's body. 

  His wails and cries softened into whimpers, and you held him tightly–wrapped in the fabric barrier–and kept repeating the same words: 

  “I'm alive, Rui. I'm alive. I'm alive.” 

  You so wished you could steady his shaking. 

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Chapter... Prev....Next

[junesirius]

just read the very early draft of 'Pivot'

Holy, just read the very early draft of 'Pivot', it blew my mind. It's the version Sam doesn't know anything about Supernatural until Dean comes to get him from Stanford. And Sam thinks Dean's crazy and needs help, and Dean practically kidnaps him to the car and start working on the women in white case.

John is called Jack, their last name is not Winchester, it's Harrison. Mary dies when Sam is 9 and Dean is 13, in an unexplained car accident. Sam hasn't seen John for 12 years, and by the time Dean comes to get him, John's dead already. They grew up with Aunt and Uncle. Dean's always smoking. Dean's only hunting with John for the last two years, and he hasn't seen Sam for two years. Oh, and, after Sam knows John is dead (and is killed brutally until unrecognizable), Sam's first reaction is scared, he thinks it's Dean went crazy and killed John, and he's afraid Dean's going to kill him too.

And admittedly, the Dean appeared in the script for the first twenty minutes does look like a psychopath (sort of, in a manner). Like a crazy lunatic serial killer (from some aspects). It's not Sam's fault to assume that, really.

Dean: "I didn't kill him." Sam: "Then who did?" Dean: "You think I'm capable of hurting Dad? Or you?" Sam: "I don't know."

And when Dean plays the family card:

Dean: "I can't do it alone. Dad tried that already." Sam: "That doesn't make sense, even for you. Why me?" Dean: "Because. We owe it to Dad. We're his family." Sam: "Since when?"

When Dean tries to persuade Sam to help the case:

Dean: "People are dying. Sam: "So call the cops." Dean: "They won't believe us. Nobody will. This is up to us." Sam: "Says who?"

Holy crap, this whole thing can get so much darker than it is.

But on the bright side, they didn't grow up with John, didn't grow up in a hunter's life. Parentless, living with Aunt and Uncle, but at least they had a childhood of some sort. I really can't think of how the story will continue with a setting like that. It's like, I can't imagine a Dean and a Sam with the whole setting with John and Mary and childhood trauma changed.

God knows I was only trying to go back to 'Pivot' to refer to the trauma scene, and to check if Dean had run into Nursery during the fire or not. (He didn't, so technically he never really saw the scene with Mary burning on the ceiling, only the fire. That's good, or he'd be even more traumatized. He probably grew up hearing from John talking about the scene and imagined it, and changed his memory and thought he had seen it though. But he really didn't, as the trailer shows. John made sure of it.)

But meta-narratively, EK is like the God of this world, so this story of Dean and Sam Harrison, with Mary Harrison died in a car accident (caused by spirit or demon) and Jack Harrison dumped them ever since and died trying to kill the monster alone, would have been just one of the variations of their alternate universe, where these actually happened. That's just all so screwed up.

And by the way, the very first woman-in-white case, in this version, the woman didn't kill her children. She's abused by her parents growing up, so she killed them, and abducted men and killed them in her house in front of her parents. Talking about parallels, all the more twisted parent-children relationship topic. Jeez.

The only thing that remains the same in the three versions of drafts I read tonight (this very first early stage 2004 draft, a 2005 draft script that's closer to the show but they're still called Harrison, and a 2005 production script), is that the car is always a vintage BLACK CHEVY IMPALA. Though the scripts all said it's 1965, we have it 1967 in the end. So the only unchanged thing, at the end of the day, is still Baby. No wonder it relies on Baby to save the world.

(a couple of excerpts below the cut)

Dean: (lights a smoke, offers one to Sam) Hey. So listen... I'm sorry I've been so M.I.A. Sam: I don't smoke -- don't apologize. I'm not mad. Dean: Well. That was a pretty clenched delivery... Sam: Really. I mean it. You got your deal, I got mine. You don't owe me anything. (They're driving, Dean told him they're going home, but he's driving a different route) Sam: What are you doing? Dean: Minor detour. Gotta take care of something. Sam: (irritated) You're not gonna go score some drugs or something, are you? Dean: (rolls his eyes) Yeah, Scarface, I'm gonna go "score some drugs."

Dean: Listen. Sam. I sorta had a reason for bringing you along. We need to talk. Sam: About what? Dean: About Dad. Sam: No, we don't. Dean: Yeah. We do. Sam: Look. I'm sorry what I told Jess, okay, but I don't see -- (Sam told Jess both his parents were dead when he's 9) Dean: It's not that. Sam. I went looking for him. Sam: You what? (suddenly numbs with realization; quietly) I have ridden in a car like this. Haven't I? I've ridden in this car. This is his. Dean: (nods)... I've been staying with him. Sam: Since when? For how long? Dean: (after a beat) Two years. Sam: Pull over. Dean: Sam -- Sam: PULL OVER! (The Impala pulls to the shoulder.) Sam: (apoplectic, leaps out of the car) How could you not tell me?! Dean: (through the window) It's a little... complicated. But I'll explain. Sam: Where is he now? Dean: Texas. Sam: I don't want to see him. Dean: You don't have to. Just calm down, okay? Get in the car. Sam: (sits in, tired, overwhelmed) I mean, is he... is he okay? How's his... you know -- (taps his temple) Dean: Okay, this next part's the hard part, it was hard for me, too. But Dad... he's not schizophrenic. He never was. Sam: What do you mean? Dean: (presses the gas, the car rumbles down the road) Close your door -- I mean, I think he was telling the truth. About the accident. About Mom. Sam: That's not funny. Dean: No. No, it isn't. Sam: You think... I'm sorry, WHAT do you think killed Mom? Dean: Maybe a spirit. Maybe a demon. We never found out for sure. Sam: (tries to control his rising anxiety) There's no such things. Dean: I know how this sounds, I do. And you know me, I used to beat up those D&D nerds. (beat) But there ARE such things. All kinds of things. EVERY kind of thing. Out there in the dark. (beat) I've seen them, Sam. With my own eyes. Sam: I don't believe you. Dean: Don't worry. You will. Sam: (OFFICIALLY FREAKED OUT) Where are you taking me? Dean: I'm sorry. But I gotta show you. What these things do to people. (beat) I gotta show you proof. Sam: (rattled)

(Dean drags Sam to ask coroner questions about some case-related questions. Sam is sick and ask for bathroom) Sam: (going to be sick) Bathroom? Coroner: Down the hall. On the left. Sam: (bolts from the room) But the moment he reaches the men's room, he's suddenly looking quite healthy. He's not sick; it was an act. Making sure Dean's not following, Sam bolts for the stairwell and gets outside. (Sam calls his Aunt. This is where he knows Dad just died.) Sam: Aunt Cheryl. It's Sam. Aunt: Where are you? You should be home by now -- Sam: I'm with Dean. Listen, I think he's sick, he -- Aunt: Dean? Does he know? Sam: (thrown for a loop) Know what? Aunt: ... so he doesn't. I guess I need to talk to him, too, then... Sam: You alright? What's going on? Aunt: ... police called the house this morning. They found your Father. In some junk yard. In Texas. He's... he's dead, Sam. I'm sorry. Sam: (spinning) Are they sure? Aunt: (tearing) They had to use... dental records. Someone... someone killed him. They said he was... unrecognizable. Sam: (veins run cold, struggles to rein in a hurricane of fear, emotion.) When he pivots, he DIRECTLY runs into Dean. Dean: (snags the cell phone from Sam, clicks it shut, pockets it) Sam: (backs away, as if from a rabid dog) Dean: I was gonna tell you. I didn't wanna scare you. Sam: (smart-ass despite fear) Yeah, well, bang up job with that. Dean: I'm sorry you heard about Dad like that. But just hold on a minute. Sam: I haven't seen the man in 12 years. Believe me, that's not why I'm upset. Dean: (waits a moment) You think...? I didn't kill him. Sam: Yeah? Then who did? Dean: It's a little... complicated. Sam: I'm sick of hearing that. (Dean advances) Stay the hell away from me. Dean: What, you gonna call the cops? Have me arrested? Sam: (mind reels, looks back at the hospital) We'll go inside. Talk to a doctor. Get you some help. Dean: I know how all this looks, believe me. But just think for a minute. You think I'm capable of hurting Dad? Or you? Sam: I don't know. Dean: It's still me. Just let me explain. That's all I'm asking.

(When Dean's trying to persuade Sam to walk the first case with him together) Sam: (incredulous) You're still chasing it. You think it's here. Dean: Maybe. Unexplainable car accidents. Exactly like Mom's. Something strange is going on, that's for sure. (beat) You have to help me, Sam. Sam: Help you... do what? Dean: Find it and kill it. Sam: WHAT? Dean: I can't do it alone. Dad tried that already. Sam: That doesn't make sense, even for you. Why me? Dean: Because. We owe it to Dad. We're his family. Sam: Since when? Sam: (slides Dad's journal back across the table, determined) Dean. These are just... ramblings. They're not real. Listen. We're going back to L.A. Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Tommy, they're gonna get you the best help in the world. Dean: (quiet challenge) You can't make me go, Sam. Sam: You can't make me stay. I'm outta here. Whether you're coming or not. Dean: (dangles his CAR KEYS in front of Sam) Okay. Look. You really think I'm cuckoo for cocoa puffs? Then take these. Go. I won't chase you. Sam: (conflicted, torn, finally decline the offer) Dean: (grateful smile) Sam: Wipe that smile off your face. You're delusional and you need help and I'm not about to leave you alone, to hurt yourself. Or somebody else. (beat) Plus, you definitely would've chased me. Dean: Well. You're right about that. Come on. Sam: Where are we going?

(After they found enough proof to show this woman-in-white case isn't related to whatever killed their mom) Sam: Where are you going? Dean: To find a motel. Sam: What? Dean: It's too late to talk to Constance's Mom. We'll go see her in the morning. Sam: No. This is over. We're going back to L.A. Dean: Sorry. Sam: This has nothing to do with us, you said so yourself. Dean: (beat) Maybe so. But we still gotta kill it. Sam: Stop the car. Dean: What, you gonna walk? Sam: You won't come home? You won't let me help you? Fine. But I won't do this anymore. STOP THE CAR. Dean: Sam. People are dying. Sam: So call the cops. Dean: They won't believe us. Nobody will. This is up to us. Sam: SAYS WHO? Dean: Dad. It's what he did. (then) These things, they're all part of the same thing. So Dad killed 'em. Every single one he found. Sam: (sarcastic) Right. So he was, like, a superhero. Dean: No. He was tired and scared. But if he didn't do it, who would? And now he's gone -- Sam: -- and for all I know, you murdered the man. Dean: You know I didn't. (flaring) Sam, you're really being a selfish prick here. Sam: Oh? Am I? Dean: This isn't just my responsibility. They're your parents, too. (beat) What if someone could've saved Mom? Sam: (finally ERUPTING) No one could've saved Mom! Because nothing killed her, except Dad! Dean: That's not true. Sam: Dean. You're trying to give Mom's death this... larger meaning. Like all our suffering was for a reason. (beat) But it wasn't. It was just random, senseless tragedy. Dad was an alcoholic and a schizophrenic. Dean: Don't say that. Sam: He drove drunk, killed his wife, abandoned his kids, and THAT'S the truth... Dean: Shut your mouth! RIGHT NOW, or -- Sam: Dean -- Dean: What?! (The argument is abruptly paused here because they just run into something supernatural and just have to start working the case.)

(About why Dean comes to find Sam from school after Dad died. The last scene is a shot of Dad's journal's last page --) Dean, ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND SAM. WATCH OUT FOR YOUR BROTHER. NOTHING'S MORE IMPORTANT. IT'S COMING FOR HIM.

[groovyzombiellama]

You Make Me Happy

Title: You Make Me Happy

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You're Scott's sister and you were dating Isaac, and were heartbroken when he left, but eventually you move on with Brett. Isaac comes back to Beacon Hills, and is jealous seeing you with Brett, so he tries to win you back by leaving cute things in your locker at school, but you throw them away, because you're happy with Brett.

Word count: 1411

---***---

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop leaving these things in my locker?"

You say, a paper rose between your fingers, as you stare at Isaac, your other hand on your hip, your neck tilted. It has been happening for a while now. Ever since he came back to town, Isaac has been acting very jealous and was doing everything possible to try and get you to get back together with him. And despite the fact that you have told him several times that you were now dating Brett and that he needs to move on like you did, he is refusing to accept it. He's acting like you cheated on him by getting together with Brett, despite the fact that he was the one who caused the end of your relationship, disappearing from Beacon Hills, leaving you completely heartbroken.

It took a lot out of you to even get out of bed in the morning on certain occassions, especially when it came around the time of yours and Isaac's anniversary. Ever part of the town reminded you of him, a bench you two sat on when he first kissed you, the coffee shop you had your first date at, everything was overwhelming. Scott, your brother, was the more hard headed one and was telling you that you should move on from Isaac and that it's clear he never loved you if he could just up and leave without even saying goodbye. But you couldn't, no matter how much you tried. Scott didn't know Isaac like you did, you were sure he loved you, that he cared.

"What's so wrong about giving the girl I love a few surprise cute things in her locker? I thought you would be happy to see me back."

Isaac's words caused you to frown. Happy? He expected you to be happy after everything that happened? Did he forget that he just disappeared? That he vanished without a trace, as if he never truly even existed? A part of you felt good seeing him again, because you always felt how that one chapter in your life was never fully closed and that you could now finally put and end to it. But what shocked even you, was how much you actually resented him for what happened. All the love you felt for Isaac was replaced by pain and heartbreak when he left, and now felt hollow after seeing him again.

"I am with Brett now, so please... Let's just, close this chapter and move on, it's better for the both of us."

That collection on words seemed to struck a cord within Isaac, his scowl deepening as soon as he beart Brett's name leave your lips. Brett was the complete opposite of your brother. He didn't expect you to just forget everything that happened with Isaac and force the door on that part of your life shut. He took his time to understand you, to give you actual advice, to hold you when you needed it and give you space when you needed it. He wasn't even doing it because he hoped you would fall in love with him, even though he had feelings towards you, and he focused on making sure you heal properly.

"Don't even mention his name... I still can't believe you cheated on me with Brett of all people."

Isaac's words felt like a physical strike. They made you recoil. Cheated? He's actually accusing you of cheating on him? His tone and the venom his words were saturated with was inches away from breaking down all the healing you worked so hard to build. You felt your bottom lip tremble ever so slightly, close to breaking down into tears in front of Isaac. Your hand raised, almost by it's own accord, without being controlled by you, an accusatory finger pointed directly at him. Your lips opened, the words you held back for so long spewing out in waves.

"Cheated? You left me! One day, you just disappeared and I didn't even get a goodbye, and now I'm the wrong one? You still haven't even appologised for all the pain you caused me!"

Isaac's eyes widened slightly. It was as if he was taken aback by your outburst. But you continued. You said all of the things you buried inside, not mincing words. You told him how much it hurt when he left, how you barely got out of bed every morning for so long. How you felt abandoned and alone, how Brett was the only one who was on your side and did his best to understand you, to help you. You kept going. Telling Isaac how you spent days, weeks, months, waiting for him to come back, to hug you again and tell you it was all just a nightmare and that he was actually right there next to you all along.

You didn't raise your voice, you didn't scream, you didn't cry. You remained calm, laying out the facts of everything you felt, and that if he didn't even care to say goodbye to you when he disappeared, you didn't care if he considered your relationship with Brett as cheating. Isaac's eyes widened further when you divulged that you were the one to kiss Brett first. That you developped feelings for him too. It took you so much time to even consider dating again, and now that you were finally happy with Brett, you were not gonna let anyone, including Isaac, ruin that for you.

You went through darkness and found your light. After telling Isaac everything that you kept in the most painful corners of your heart, you threw the paper rose in the trash, letting it join the ranks of all the other gifts he left in your locker, notes, collages of the pictures of the two of you together, all kinds of little trinkets that reminded you of your relationship with Isaac. All of that was now gone and buried. You turned on your heel, leaving a stunned Isaac looking at your retreating form as you walked with newfound determination.

"Hey baby.... How are you feeling? You look....like something happened."

Brett questioned as he opened the door of his place to your knocks. He was taken by surprise as you smiled brightly at him, immediately, without a word, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in the crook of his neck, sighing contently. He was frozen for a moment, before his arms wrapped around you, and his head rested against yours. He had no idea about what Isaac has been doing, and you were gonna tell him all about it, right after this tight hug, filled with his warmth, his touch, breathing in his scent.

"You make me happy Brett.... No matter what Isaac tries to say or do, that fact doesn't change. Just like my feelings for you don't change. I love you Brett... I love you so much baby."

Those words were enough to calm Brett's pacing, which he started after he had heard you explain everything, the little things Isaac kept leaving in your locker, how he considered your relationship with Brett was cheating to him, and everything you fired back at him. Hearing the warmth in your voice, the soft reassurance, Brett's arms were wrapped around you again, echoing your words of love. Even though he was usually the tough guy, the strong werewolf, even he needed a little reassurance that your mind was only on him, that your heart danced with his still.

And the fact that you gave it to him, without making it seem like he was a lovesick puppy that constantly needed someone to hold his hand, and allowed him to still feel like the big bad wolf he saw himself as while his head layed in your lap, his eyes closed as your fingers carded through his hair, bringing him the calm that he so desperately needed in his life. He still didn't trust Isaac, but he trusted you, and that was enough to ease his worries. If there is ever a need to step in and put Isaac in his place, he would, but he was so proud of you for putting him in his place yourself, proud of your strenght, of your calm and collected attitude. You fought for yourself and your peace better than he ever could, and that made him fall in love with you even more.

---***---

@cokecola4211 here it is :) I hope you like it <3

I'm off to dig into my inbox and find a new batch of requests to answer, feel free to send your own in if you like my writing :) I'm so excited ❤️

[localwebslingers]

For a moment Peter wasn't sure how to respond. If he should, how he should if he did. The lab and working in it felt like one of those topics that could either frustrate or upset Harry even more. Memories about the two of them that still weren't there, a reminder that he was having to relearn one of his own fields of study all over again. Wondered if after the previous night if he should just leave that full conversation for another day. A better day. It wasn't a question, and Peter had promised to answer any he was asked, as best he could, but he didn't want to just say nothing to it either, "It did, but to your credit you were a pretty quick study to start picking up on more of the physics sides of things when I explained stuff to you." he said finally, "But we worked great together, could work around each other easy and could bounce ideas...we spent a lot of time that way when we first met."

It was true, though missing some large pieces of information like how they got to working together in the first place, but it was true, and he hoped it was reassuring more than it was upsetting. That Harry's assumption and offer that they worked well together had been right. Another small win that he could claim.

He offered a smile and nodded, "You do, I've made a bunch of them with you. Serious ones, ones just to pass the time, I had no idea it could be a hobby before." he teased lightly. Peter was pretty sure he still had their list counting out the numerous ways that trying to travel across the multiverse could fail so they could try and counter as many as possible. Covering a page front and back in mostly Harry's small, neat writing and Peter's own additions scrawled where they would fit, tucked away somewhere safe with all of their other notes on the project, "Maybe I should come by with a pen and paper next time and we can make another one. Might be able to fit a sheet under the door to pass back and forth." and likely nothing thicker than that, but it was worth a shot, "...would you want to?"

|| @inhcritance ||

It had been a challenge, and it had been a necessity as well: it was not so much that he wanted to fill in those gaps as that he had to, when so much in him loathed the way his memory still was as patchy as it was.

It didn't help that it was getting better, no matter how much he was aware of it: what mattered was still the quiet when he wanted to find something. And textbooks were not the same as real experimentation, but at least thet did not come with the jarring shift of knowing what he was doing and then suddenly being completely clueless.

Just like right now, as Peter revealed his major and Harry frowned, just a shade.

"I guess that helped, when we worked in a lab together." And then, "And it's something we had in common, for all mine was just biochem."

With a side of law, and a goal he was only fuzzy about, but he's really cared about.

"And you know," he added, after a moment of consideration, "I think I've always been fond of lists. There's something pretty nice about them."

He had almost joked about books he'd have liked to read again for the first time, but then he'd halted himself: it hurt too much to joke about it just yet.

@localwebslingers

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 08 - Fav. (Side) Job

When she's not running around as Ninja or Summoner , Arsay's next choice is the lance. Being bestowed a source of draconic power by Midgardsormr moments before his slumber, and knowing how to channel the powers of Bahamut with dreadwyrm trance, Arsay's power as a Dragoon rivals that of even the former Azure Dragoon. With that said, she'd much rather use her polearm to hunt monsters.

[running-in-the-dark]

ugh. my father-in-law was here today to fix a couple small things, and it was so annoying. he hasn't been here since we finished moving in and all of that (because we visit my in-laws all the time, it's not like we never see them), and I forgot just how draining it is. it's just that overwhelming energy of a man who thinks he knows everything about everything. it's. a lot. I don't like it. I feel like I've just had a panic attack even though I haven't.

[normalbrothers]

tommy's faith and trust in arthur's ability to take charge/take responsibility/be The Man is so astounding and bitter sweet, both in terms of how much the war broke arthur but also tommy's own sentimentality when it comes to him. and it's not a belief based on nothing at all either! it's knowledge and experience, and it's sort of the core problem when it comes to the frustration and resentment they feel towards each other; the constant back and forth and never seeing eye-to-eye despite craving that very thing and wanting something from the other that is impossible to give, because they are both so damaged in such irreparable ways

[yapdad]

(trueform) sukuna, the amalgamation of all things sharp and evil, is... a virgin?

you laugh when he tells you. he ponders the merits of spanking you for making a fool of his abstinence.

'don't mock me' he had pouted like a kicked puppy, eyebrows knit together in a faux fury that just makes him look dumb, because anger on ryomen sukuna is only natural in every direction but yours.

you have that asshole wrapped around your finger.

well, you did. until you laughed at him for being a virgin, and he decided his many years of celibacy were ideal to be broken by someone with your gall.

know you're wrapped around his fingers. literally, knuckles deep while he plunges them in and out and in and out of your pussy on a grating loop that has your vision gated by stars and tears after only a few minutes.

he's fucking good for a virgin. you wonder if he's better with his cock than he is with his fingers—whether he's fucked his fist late at night to the thought of doing things like this to you. how depraved he's let his mind become. if his fantasies would frighten you or not.

"i didn't mean to laugh," you try pleading after your first orgasm on his fingers. "i wasn't laughing at you, it's just hard to believe. don't you have concubines?"

"i'm not a philanderer," he grunts, curling his thick fingers inside of you.

"do you even—fuck, ryomen—do you even know what a philanderer is?"

"a whore," he bites. "i saw no point in engaging in such... carnal affairs. i don't like playing with my food."

well that's a lie. you roll your eyes, half in defiance and half because you think sukuna might be rewiring your brain matter with this kind of pleasure. so much so that you start to say stupid things without thinking of the consequences in doing so.

"so it's not because your cock is small?"

and he stops. you're thankful for the break, though you tighten around his fingers in some sort of biological protest to the lack of stimulation. sukuna, all hot and heady, takes your face in his one of his free hands and squeezes your cheeks together, bulging your lips.

"my cocks are adequate in size."

"cocks?" you're speech is muffled by sukuna's grip on your face. "like, more than one?" you squint your eyes at him "do you have multiple cocks, sukuna?"

indeed he does.

after another orgasm on his fingers, and then one on his tongue (which left both you and him in a mess of spit and sweet release) he finally disrobed and let you bask in the frightening sight of his two cocks, stacked one on top of the other, both hard and veiny and leaking at the tips with a copious amount of pre.

he's huge. in both cases. you suppose you should have signed something before laying down for the man, right? still, a curling need eats at your lower stomach: to have him like this when no one else has.

"are... will..." you clear your throat. "so, uh. they're both going inside of me?"

sukuna doesn't speak at first, probably because he's growing impossibly harder at the look of fear on your face. he lays you back and situates you beneath him, his rough hands oddly gentle for what's most likely the last kind thing he'll do to you tonight.

"no," he says. "next time. i want to... see something."

see something? sukuna steps between your parted legs and looks lustfully at the mess he's left of you. you're somewhat ashamed for becoming such a sight after teasing him like you did, but the hunger in his eyes are enough of a balm to shift your shame into... fear? want? a deep-rooted masochism?

kuna strokes one of his cocks, the one on the underside, a few times before lining it up with your entrance. resigned to your fate, you close your eyes and take a long breath in and then letting the air empty from your lungs in preparation for the stretch.

but it doesn't come.

you open one eye to find sukuna staring back at you. two of his hands hold your thighs apart in a force that is sure to leave bruises, the third holds his cock steady against your pulsing hole... but the fourth just hangs.

that is, until he snakes it up your torso, nice and slow, and then trails it down the length of your arm to lace his fingers with yours. a hand to hold through his first time.

"tell anyone and i end your bloodline," he says. you smile, and he growls and presses forward, taking the plunge and entering your tight warmth, leaving his virginity at the door.

as he pushes himself further and further in, his second cock rests on your stomach, leaking pre-cum all over your pretty skin. once he's bottomed out, which is a feat that takes a whole lot of squirming and clenched teeth on your end, he stills inside of you.

his eyes are glued to where his second cock lays on your tummy. it's an indicator of just how deep inside of you he is. how much of your body he's claimed as his own in that searing but all-too pleasurable stretch of his mean size. he squeezes your hand tight.

you're already teary-eyed, revelling in the almost hedonistic way your pussy tries to suck him in even further. you're sure that any deeper would be a health risk, but you've never felt this good before. this full.

and still, sukuna just stares down at his cock laying on your belly. he's so deep, sheathed inside of you in the most intimate display of connection besides... cannibalism? his mind races, his mouth goes dry, and with an almost pathetic moan from deep in his chest, ryomen sukuna cums both inside of you and all over your stomach at the same time.

without even a full thrust inside of you.

you gasp, the sheer amount of cum flooding into you at once is overwhelming. "did you just—"

"no."

you lift your head to look at the release painting your stomach: so much so that it's covering your tits too. "you just came in one stroke."

"shut the fuck up."

"you really are a virgin, still holding my hand, too."

sukuna growls at that, lowers his body against yours just to show off his crushing weight. a bite to your earlobe is soon followed by a few harsh words in your ear.

"do you want to be ripped in half by my cocks? shut your fucking mouth or i'll gladly—"

"yes. please, yes. yeah. let's do it."