#That comes from nothing greater

[ailithnight]

Howdy y'all. Have a snippet that is completely unconnected to anything else I am writing or will write. Feel free to do with it whatever you please.

But first, important warning! TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault of a Minor

Seriously, this actually might be a brand new kind of fucked up even for the Danny Phantom fandom.

"Oh. I don't think you need to worry about, uh… that stuff."

"Oh? Why not?"

"It's just. Um. Y'know. The, the scientist were always fascinated by, um, by my 'mimicry of bodily functions,' right? They wanted to test how far the, 'the mimicry' extended. If I'd 'mimic' things like, digestion and immune response and, and um, excitement."

"Excitement." Flat. Not really a question, but a question all the same.

"Yeah. You know…" Danny makes a couple hand gestures. Wiggles his pointer a couple times; then holding his hand in a loose fist and giving a couple jerky, twisting pulling motions. Kind of like… Oh. Oh god. He's just 15. It's such a painfully 15 thing to do, dancing around the topic like this. All awkward and nervous.

But also, god, he's so painfully 15. Jason is suddenly wishing he'd made a lot more bullet holes when they took those fuckers down. He would have if he'd known just how far their depravity sank. If he'd known they had-

"They sexually assaulted you?" Dick's voice is high and strained. Jason winces. Everyone knows, Dick hasn't told them, but they've all seen the signs, they know he has some personal traumas there.

Danny full body flinches, recoiling as if Dick had just slapped him.

"What? No! It wasn't. They didn't. It's not like they were, like, getting off to it or anything. They were just. Testing reactions. To, like, stimuli and stuff. Same as when they'd test how my body responded to different temperatures or lack of oxygen or various drugs. It wasn't. It was just an experiment." Danny looks down, fidgeting his hands in his lap and refusing to look up. It's practically textbook denial. Dick is probably fighting flashbacks right now. Jason would try to help him if he wasn't trapped somewhere between horror and rage.

After a long moment of silence and fidgeting, Danny sighs. Still refusing to look at anyone, he leans back and studies the cieling instead. "Anyway. It was just another expiriment, but it still kind of killed any interest in… that stuff." Young. Young. So painfully young. "So I don't think I really need the whole… y'know… talk."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

When in doubt, Soup it out.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[chaosinstigator]

here’s the thing… I’ll never settle on that this is it, that it’s the end of it all bc there’s too many things that don’t make sense but also if anyone in this world deserves karmic justice it’s Daniel and I simply refuse that this is the end after everything he’s dealt with in the last four years.

I need to believe good things happen to good people or I’ll go absolutely crazy so I’m gonna stay in the place of hope and possible delusion that this isn’t the end, simply because it can’t be.

[unopenablebox]

i admit that i find it a little bit frustrating how Wildly Astonished other antizionist jews act when i tell them my israeli jewish family have lived in the region since [some unknown length of time before 1800 when there start being records about it]

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, Fallout OC Sheet & Enemies Meme

Tagging @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @cloudofbutterflies92 @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @cassietrn @aceghosts @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @softtidesworld-deactivated20241 @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who want to join.

Alright last two Five Nights at Freddy's songs for this little spout of FNAF resurgence. Anyway, music for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles with templates for OCs from A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and An Old Ballad Of Chance And Ember Hearts Trilogy. You can listen and view these below the cut:

First song is for my FNAF WIP More Than Bargained For? and it is a remix song for the Ruin DLC of Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach made by my one of my favorite artists The Stupendium (who previously made a FNAF: SB song). Anywho, plot relevance. Unless the next game(s) come out, the Security Breach and Ruin DLC (plus FNAF VR: HW2) are intended to be the last section of the "Lena finally destroys the Mimic and takes down Fazbear Entertainment" arc, and after that will be the "let's all get healthy coping mechanisms and therapy" epilogue. At this point, Lena's done with this shit, like, this is the culmination of everything she's had to do and go through just to finally put a final end to this tragedy, just like Henry and Mike would have wanted. For her efforts at the Pizzeria Megaplex, she gets a little brother in Gregory, a little sister in Cassie, new animatronic friends rocking their aesthetics and gives Vanessa a sapphic awakening. Her girlfriend Cassandra's going to be thrilled. [Cassandra be like: "Ah yes, just me, my girlfriend, her new gremlin brother and sister that she adopted, the alien shapeshifter she befriended with his android girlfriends, the queer mall cop she saved from the serial-killing bunny-looking malware, an animatronic daycare attendant struggling with self-identity, and the 2,000 pound bear, chicken, wolf and alligator animatronics that slay the 80s vibe... truly winning in life."] Anyway song below:

"So you're trapped after dark in the park and you're tasked with surviving the night So your ma and your pa have departed the party and left you to fight So hang tight, to the tickets you've won And your toy laser gun Set your Faz-watch to 'fun' 'Cause it's hide and seek hunted By musical monsters Ain't that what you wanted? You came for some games and a bite The doors have all been closed but the stage has been set So on with the show, no escaping it yet The night is still young and the fun's just begun You've been played like your grave of arcade cabinets

When you've gates stormed by gators and wolves at the door When the power is down, you can't bear any more When each tick of the clock has you checking your watch And the chicken is watching you hungry for gore Oh, the fun that's in store! (Oh, the fun that's in store!)

Come get a pizza the action You want a pizza the action A tasty pizza the action You want a pizza the action

So come pick your destiny off of the menu (Fate won't wait 'til the sun comes up) Or be laid to rest in your favorite venue (Arcade to arcade, crust to crust) In this amusement park you are the Super Star We know that you'll go far but you must choose your path Those neon tubes cast shadows on a truth so dark It's up to you to battle its putrid heart So savor the taste of your last pepperoni (You've got a party pass to a backstage tour) 'Cause you're taking the stage for one night only (But will dawn chorus be your encore?)

Perhaps it's your birthday? Or your graduation? We're always the first place for a celebration Now maybe you've heard say, of some violations But it's not since Thursday we've had strangulations The go-karts are revved and the ball pit's been cleaned Montgomery's ready to tear up the scene Roxy's got the rock that's just got to be seen Just as soon as Chica's cleaned out the canteen Hear the cry of the fans as we strike up the band Now the time is at hand for the tightest of jams 'Cause it's tiny and cramped where you're hiding but Vanny Won't find you when crammed inside our leading man

When you've gates stormed by gators and wolves at the door When the power is down, you can't bear any more When the sun's gone away but the moon's come to play A more punishing game till the break of the dawn Oh, the fun that's in store! (Oh, the fun that's in store!)

Come get a pizza the action You want a pizza the action A tasty pizza the action You want a pizza the action

Darkness falls across the mall And metal mascots stalk the halls More murderous with each defect And out to prowl the pizzaplex And whomsoever shall be found By S.T.A.F.F Bot hoards that roll around Must then escape the bunny's wrath Or rot inside a stomach hatch The air is filled with pungent reek Of robots oiled in pizza grease And terror's bathed in neon light Are on the hunt to grab a bite For no amount of birthday cake Piñatas, games or fanfare Will help a lonely child survive The night at Freddy Fazbear's..."

Okay, the final(ish) FNAF song for this FNAF song streak I decided to do. Straight up, with The Living Tombstone's "This Comes From Inside", it's my favorite FNAF based song of all time. And I'm likely going to make 100 essays of why this song fits each of my stories, characters and the fandoms I'm in despite it being made for one fandom, and I will be really annoying about it. However, for now, I'll start with my Unnamed Elden Ring WIP. There are three main Tarnished OCs (with more on the side) that this WIP follows; Logan the Vagabond of No Renown (you can guess what his class is), Selke the All-Seeing Mage (she already knows of the horrors before she even experiences them), and lastly... Chiwa (...the Formless Mother favors this one). Let's focus on Logan. The Land's Between is stuck in a stalemate of a forever war, with nothing really proceeding and with no Demigods gaining the title of Elden Lord and achieving the Elden Ring, Queen Marika's Grace awakens the Tarnished that were previously exiled beyond the Fog, to call them back and do what Marika's children failed to do. Logan is amongst the earliest Tarnished to be revived (perhaps even a bit too early) and through no fault of his own, becomes one of the oldest Tarnished through process of waiting and living throughout the decades. Where he is at fault is his ambition (and his tendency to just... be a piece of shit, in general). In his youth, he was no better than the Demigods in his own hungry quest for power, glory, and reaching for riches and respect he'll never actually receive... given all the bridges he burns and the mistakes he refuses to learn from until it's way too late. Speaking of which, in his elder years, his ambition becomes... lackluster, to say the least. Considering what he learns from this whole thing, he becomes as bad as Morgott; he doesn't believe there can be anyway to proceed, so he just leaves the Lands in this state of a slow decay. The main theme of this WIP (as is the main theme of the series it comes from; The Silver Chronicles) is change. Change of self, change of system, change of environment, change of eras, change of ideologies and much, much more. With Logan, "This Comes From Inside" acknowledges what he comes to learn in his final years; nothing is going to change. With the way him and many others try (or tried) to satisfy their lust for power, they're just gonna remain in this stagnate state of despair and suffering to the expense of everyone else. If he wants to succeed, he needs to change his own inner-corruption... and if not? Things will only get worse. But the thing is, Logan won't do that, because he has no reason, no incentive, no purpose to do so in the present. He has died so many times for something he no longer believes in nor cares to do so, to the point his Grace is becoming more difficult to see every day. And when that's gone... he too will succumb to death. And even if he could get past his apathy, bitterness and selfishness, he's far from his prime nor can he do anything remotely closely impactful for anyone else. His use of Grace grows thinner too, so he only has a number of revivals before he's dead for good. So he can do nothing... unless he finds a drive to change. And he does; discovering it locked away in the darkest chasms that only the Eternal Queen Marika knew of... and sets out on a new quest with only two new goals in mind; to tempt an Outer God in a binding contract to give a fighting chance to become Elden Lord, and to ensure ownership over the Great Rune of the Unborn, no matter what it takes. I'm sure I'll expand more in either the notes or a more refined essay of ramblings. Enjoy listening below:

"How we could have known That we're stuck in a system? There was a pre-existing dictum, programmed to do nothing else Why feel so alone When we share so much wisdom? But you set fire to the kingdom, burn it all until it melts Or else

Now this comes from inside, how long do we have to try? Now this comes from inside, and stays there until you die Now this comes from inside, how long do we have to try? No this comes from inside, and stays there until you die

Long time ago, it was all for a show Fill out wounds with a pound of salt And your reason to justify scars You can't quantify, lock us inside a vault

Now this is your fault Everything is a problem There was a poison in the air, despair is an eternal blight You're losing it all You've been blinded by stardom You think that you're alone, but we are waiting for you every night You're mine

Now this comes from inside, how long do we have to try? Now this comes from inside, and stays there until you die Now this comes from inside, what you have, I want, it's mine Now this comes from inside, and stays there until you die!"

Here is a Fallout OC Sheet Template for my Vault Dweller OC Elrand Brandt from my UnTitled Fallout WIP from my A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore series. You can find a blank template at the end too:

And finally an Enemies Meme for two characters from my An Old Ballad Of Chance And Ember Hearts Trilogy WIPs, specifically two characters named Tyche (the God of Luck) and Rouske (pronounced ROSS-SH):

And the Empty Templates are all here:

[monards]

when you think about the option of the last volume having been a collaborative writing by all of them, and that each and every one of them likely shared the perspective the little witch shared in what she said to the old witch, you do in fact get a little fucked up

[rinbylin]

me watching twp 1994: manee my girl there's no way that the past is objectively better than the present.. you can't just live in your romanticised fantasy of the past.. it's not real and it's only in your head..

also me when i'm in my bitter h8ful mode after watching one (1) bland, soulless new release after another: old dramas and movies are just better. the state of new media is abysmal, rife and poisoned with corporate-sanctioned sameness. we'll never have the glory of the past with diverse, authentic, fun storytelling again

[mirror-ralsei]

THOUGHTS: Threat Level and TwistedSwd

This is just a quick connecting of a couple of dots: the “threat level” demarcated by backing out of deleting a file at the last minute, and the ThornRing only being acquired by aborting a Weird Route at the last minute. (Shoutout to HalfBreadChaos for pointing out both.)

Notably, keeping the ThornRing - that is, a last-second abortion of Chapter 2’s Weird Route - is required in order to craft the TwistedSwd. We know little about the TwistedSwd beyond that it’s “a strange blade” for Kris that lowers Trance (contrasted with the ThornRing itself, which increases Trance).

“Twisted” kind of reminds me of Chara’s line to us about “a perverted sentimentality,” especially in context. Chara is specifically talking to a player who completed a No Mercy run twice, something most players would not do.

This, to me, is a bit similar to the conditions required to keep the ThornRing, and therefore obtain the TwistedSwd: a very obscure and deliberate path, probably followed for the purpose of obtaining a specific result. In the double No Mercy player’s case, it’s probably to see what kind of dialogue might change. In the TwistedSwd player’s, it’s obviously to obtain the TwistedSwd.

There’s also one more use of “twisted.”

Flowey describes you as “more twisted than [him]” if you subscribe to the newsletter “just to see what would happen if you unsubscribed. This does seem to line up with the way “perverted” is used to describe us by Chara.

Even if that’s not the case, and there’s no parallel between these ideas, I think “threat” and “trance” will probably be some kind of Chekov’s Guns for plot purposes later, as will the TwistedSwd. And I definitely wonder, like others, if we might have to do some, well, twisted things to get a “good” or “true” outcome.

(Screenshot credit: 1 2 3)

[nejackdaw]

I have, predictably, been thinking about Celann; been thinking about Bretons and their half elf blood, the magic in it, their innate magical skill. It manifests, in the player character, as higher magical bases and the ability to absorb hostile magic.

Celann doesn't seem like much of a spellcaster to me.

Schools of magic are called disciplines for a reason: they require work and dedication, even for the simplest spells (people aren't, for example, commonly seen wandering around casting candlelight.) Even with half elven blood, I can't imagine him being much of a caster.

However, there's still the secondary way magic manifests: as a repellant, a shield. Maybe he didn't grow up learning magic–which naturally, in such a mage-focused society (High Rock,) would be met with a variety of reactions–maybe his family realized he seemed to be missing what most people have and let it rest.

Maybe he never really thought about why his sister didn't just charm him during the attack in the woods until the Vigilant woman he'd met brought it up.

Celann may lack magical capabilities, but in return his mind is firmly walled off, untouchable by charms, fear spells, forced sleep. It's invaluable against the kinds of enemies he and his allies face, against mages and vampires and anything else that slings spells with ease–but it also turns away friendly charms. Courage, Rally, any variation of anything that's meant to bolster and assist results in as much a waste of magicka as a curse. Where others learn to shield themselves against mind altering magic, to close their consciousness to them, he, very slowly, had to learn how to create a window for friendly charms to take effect.

It's entirely unconscious; no effort goes into realizing that something is coming and shielding himself from it. The door is permanently shut, and it takes effort instead to crack it open when something friendly comes knocking. He's able to recognize hexes and charms and curses only because he realizes the harm they could do to his allies–if they're aimed at him, he pays them no mind, may not even realize it's being cast. It's a large part of his success as a vampire hunter: their charm, innate, instinctual, and one of their greatest defenses, is utterly useless when he's the one facing them down. (He's used this to his advantage before, on occasion, when goading his enemies is possible and he can get them to expend their magic on him before his allies reveal themselves, no longer at risk of being turned against one another or frozen still.)

Thinking about Celann, lacking any magical skill--potentially ostracizing, to a degree, in his old life--but with a mind like a fortress--useful and valuable in his new one, earning him an easy place.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the new mutants issue where Charles chose to stay behind in space and my god the juxtaposition between Charles trusting Erik and Erik joining the hellfire club and wondering at his own trust worthiness. I wonder how much of Charles decision was him ultimately trying to avoid the fact that his first class had seemingly betrayed mutant kind and not be willing to face them and how much of it was Dani and Illyana's reaction to him having Karma mind control Illyana. the fact that Illyana was depending on him to ease her mind through limbo and in choosing to stay he forced karma to do it instead, probably fucking up their relationship in the process.

I love him, this is crazy, how much of this is him trying to runaway and how much is this him not trusting himself to fix things and how much is it just him trusting Erik?

i keep trying to put into words my exact thoughts about the sitch but there really is a lot for one issue aintit... oh charles you and your brain...

[zoanzon]

I had a longass reply written out and then my phone fucking ate it, so let's try this again...

For anyone concerned about all the other federal sites, go look at what r/datahoarding is up to! Members have been backing up the entirety of data.cdc.gov or the HOAA + NIM + EPA + Deprtment of Education websites.

Outside of Reddit, there's groups like the End of Life Web Archive, the Harvard Law Library Innovation Lab, the Environmental Data and Governance Initiative, and other groups. They've been backing stuff up since last year to get ahead of the writing on the wall.

For people wanting to try and contribute their own efforts, what OP posted right above is excellent for that! ArchiveTeam Warrior helps Internet Archive get stuff backed up using your own devices to help split up the work. The setup has a lot of steps, but this post gives a good breakdown as to how to go about it. It'll take up some network bandwidth and storage space on your device, but it looks to be pretty automated once it's all set up.

But yeah, as it was decades ago we say it again:

I haven’t slept in three days.

I’ve been working around the clock to back up over a petabyte of research data and records and articles from the National Library of Medicine before it gets attacked by that elongated dipstick and his gestapo squad. Trying to get copies of every federal research program’s data before it gets destroyed in the crossfire. I hope to God that it won’t, but I have no confidence that it will be safe. Lots of copies keep stuff safe.

[drdemonprince]

The data does not support the assumption that all burned out people can “recover.” And when we fully appreciate what burnout signals in the body, and where it comes from on a social, economic, and psychological level, it should become clear to us that there’s nothing beneficial in returning to an unsustainable status quo. 

The term “burned out” is sometimes used to simply mean “stressed” or “tired,” and many organizations benefit from framing the condition in such light terms. Short-term, casual burnout (like you might get after one particularly stressful work deadline, or following final exams) has a positive prognosis: within three months of enjoying a reduced workload and increased time for rest and leisure, 80% of mildly burned-out workers are able to make a full return to their jobs. 

But there’s a lot of unanswered questions lurking behind this happy statistic. For instance, how many workers in this economy actually have the ability to take three months off work to focus on burnout recovery? What happens if a mildly burnt-out person does not get that rest, and has to keep toiling away as more deadlines pile up? And what is the point of returning to work if the job is going to remain as grueling and uncontrollable as it was when it first burned the worker out? 

Burnout that is not treated swiftly can become far more severe. Clinical psychologist and burnout expert Arno van Dam writes that when left unattended (or forcibly pushed through), mild burnout can metastasize into clinical burnout, which the International Classification of Diseases defines as feelings of energy depletion, increased mental distance, and a reduced sense of personal agency. Clinically burned-out people are not only tired, they also feel detached from other people and no longer in control of their lives, in other words.

Unfortunately, clinical burnout has quite a dismal trajectory. Multiple studies by van Dam and others have found that clinical burnout sufferers may require a year or more of rest following treatment before they can feel better, and that some of burnout’s lingering effects don’t go away easily, if at all. 

In one study conducted by Anita Eskildsen, for example, burnout sufferers continued to show memory and processing speed declines one year after burnout. Their cognitive processing skills improved slightly since seeking treatment, but the experience of having been burnt out had still left them operating significantly below their non-burned-out peers or their prior self, with no signs of bouncing back. 

It took two years for subjects in one of van Dam’s studies to return to “normal” levels of involvement and competence at work. following an incident of clinical burnout. However, even after a multi-year recovery period they still performed worse than the non-burned-out control group on a cognitive task designed to test their planning and preparation abilities. Though they no longer qualified as clinically burned out, former burnout sufferers still reported greater exhaustion, fatigue, depression, and distress than controls.

In his review of the scientific literature, van Dam reports that anywhere from 25% to 50% of clinical burnout sufferers do not make a full recovery even four years after their illness. Studies generally find that burnout sufferers make most of their mental and physical health gains in the first year after treatment, but continue to underperform on neuropsychological tests for many years afterward, compared to control subjects who were never burned out. 

People who have experienced burnout report worse memories, slower reaction times, less attentiveness, lower motivation, greater exhaustion, reduced work capability, and more negative health symptoms, long after their period of overwork has stopped. It’s as if burnout sufferers have fallen off their previous life trajectory, and cannot ever climb fully back up. 

And that’s just among the people who receive some kind of treatment for their burnout and have the opportunity to rest. I found one study that followed burned-out teachers for seven years and reported over 14% of them remained highly burnt-out the entire time. These teachers continued feeling depersonalized, emotionally drained, ineffective, dizzy, sick to their stomachs, and desperate to leave their jobs for the better part of a decade. But they kept working in spite of it (or more likely, from a lack of other options), lowering their odds of ever healing all the while. 

Van Dam observes that clinical burnout patients tend to suffer from an excess of perseverance, rather than the opposite: “Patients with clinical burnout…report that they ignored stress symptoms for several years,” he writes. “Living a stressful life was a normal condition for them. Some were not even aware of the stressfulness of their lives, until they collapsed.”

Instead of seeking help for workplace problems or reducing their workload, as most people do, clinical burnout sufferers typically push themselves through unpleasant circumstances and avoid asking for help. They’re also less likely to give up when placed under frustrating circumstances, instead throttling the gas in hopes that their problems can be fixed with extra effort. They become hyperactive, unable to rest or enjoy holidays, their bodies wired to treat work as the solution to every problem. It is only after living at this unrelenting pace for years that they tumble into severe burnout. 

Among both masked Autistics and overworked employees, the people most likely to reach catastrophic, body-breaking levels of burnout are the people most primed to ignore their own physical boundaries for as long as possible. Clinical burnout sufferers work far past the point that virtually anyone else would ask for help, take a break, or stop caring about their work.

And when viewed from this perspective, we can see burnout as the saving grace of the compulsive workaholic — and the path to liberation for the masked disabled person who has nearly killed themselves trying to pass as a diligent worker bee. 

I wrote about the latest data on burnout "recovery," and the similarities and differences between Autistic burnout and conventional clinical burnout. The full piece is free to read or have narrated to you in the Substack app at drdevonprice.substack.com

[gaza-giving-tree]

Video: Hossam Al-Qazzaz has recently given us a glimpse of a day in the life of his family through a video he sent to us, featuring his infant daughter Habiba, son Bashar, and other daughter Diana. Despite their living conditions, Hossam does his best to keep his children's spirits high.

@hanon-qazaz

Story written by @rumiandroses

Imagine being born into a world where the first sounds you hear are explosions, the hum of drones, and the cries of your family fleeing for their lives. This is the reality for Habiba Al-Qazzaz, a precious baby girl who has known nothing but war, displacement, and hunger in her short life. Born in Gaza amidst the ongoing conflict that began on October 7, 2023, Habiba has spent much of her existence so far in uncertainty, hunger, and fear.

This precious little girl is not even a year old, and already, she has suffered through unimaginable hardship.

Her parents, Hossam and Hanan Al-Qazzaz, are doing everything they can to care for Habiba and her three siblings—Bashar (9), Hani (8), and Diana (4). But the relentless devastation of Gaza’s infrastructure has made survival nearly impossible. With no stable income and essential supplies priced beyond reach, the Al-Qazzaz family is fighting a daily battle just to keep their children warm, fed, and safe.

Their GoFundMe campaign has been their only lifeline, allowing them to afford the most basic necessities—food, water, milk for Habiba. Yet despite the thousands of people who have seen and shared their plea, donations have been coming in at a painfully slow pace. Since last year, they have managed to raise only €2,000, an amount tragically short of their €55,000 goal—the sum they had hoped would allow them to evacuate to Egypt with Hossam’s elderly parents and start anew.

Forced to Live on Top of Rubble

Images: (Top) Bashar, Hani, and Diana, still able to smile in spite of the devastation they've been forced to endure. (Bottom) Hossam Al-Qazzaz, as he does his best to clear their destroyed home of debris to make it slightly more suitable for habitation.

As time passed and donations fell short, the family was forced to abandon their dreams of escape. Instead, they now live atop the ruins of their destroyed home, sheltered only by a fragile tent that does little to protect them from the cold, roaming animals, or the ever-present danger of violence. Their reality is bleak, and their options are running out.

On February 8, 2025, Hanan reached out to us with an update on her family's condition:

Image: Hanan's update message to us, informing us of her family's current condition.

The freezing temperatures persist. Her children are crying for warmth in a shelter that provides no protection from the elements.

This is Not a Call for Comfort—It’s a Plea for Survival!

The Al-Qazzaz family is NOT asking for luxuries. They are asking for the bare minimum:

🧤🧣Warmth for their children.

🍞💧 Food and clean water.

🏠🚪A secure shelter.

With further violence looming, the time to act is NOW.

How You Can Help

🔹 Donate to the Al-Qazzaz Family’s GoFundMe to help provide food, warmth, and shelter for Habiba and her family. Every contribution—no matter how small—makes an impact. [DONATE HERE] 🍞💧🍼🧦🧣🧤🏥

🔹 Support the Chuffed Campaign created by our founder, Bethany-Grace, as an additional fundraiser to help the family rebuild their lives. This ensures they don’t have to choose between saving money for the future and feeding their children today. [DONATE HERE] 🌱🏠🛫🕊️

🔹 If you cannot donate, PLEASE share this post. The more people see their story, the greater the chance of reaching someone who can help. EVERY like, share, and repost helps.

The Al-Qazzaz family’s campaign has been vetted by @gazavetters and is #287 on their list of verified campaigns.

A Family of Resilience and Kindness

Hossam Al-Qazzaz is also the cousin of Falestine Asad, another courageous individual struggling to keep her infant child safe in war-torn Gaza. Both Hossam and Falestine are some of the kindest and humblest people you will ever meet. If you can, we encourage you to view and share both of their campaigns, and to donate if possible.

Together, we can help the Al-Qazzaz family find the security, warmth, and stability they so desperately need.

No child should have to suffer like these poor babies have.

Let’s all be part of the reason they make it through another day, and into a brighter, more peaceful future. 🙏🏻🕊️💗

[cerastes]

As a licensed therapist, let me tell you that the most success I’ve found with patients is not being uwu soft happy thoughts guy, and instead being someone that validates all the rage, anger, frustration and sorrow they have. Curbing it with fake positivity is unhealthy and self-destructive. Express it. If you need to cry, you cry, if we need to rage, we rage, if you aren’t good with words, we can do something more physical; I bought cheap plates one time, for this 16 year old girl who just couldn’t communicate and convey properly, then we smashed them together whenever our slow conversation touched on the things that truly hurt her, the idea being that giving a physical component to speech could help her organize ideas better, and it worked.

And after we get all that rage out of you, after we validate and shape it into something that’s nothing to be ashamed of and that needn’t be kept in a little cloister until it blows you to kingdom come, then we talk about how beautiful shit can be once rage and frustration are things you can grab by the throat. Yeah it’s not going to solve everything because a lot of psychological issues are symptoms of a greater root problem, and a lot of times, you don’t have mental illness, you simply don’t have money, but with that wholly on the table? Yeah it becomes easier to navigate potential solutions and increase resilience.

But seriously, “fake it until you make it” has a lot of merits but there’s a big red line that says “FAKE HAPPINESS” that you shouldn’t cross. Can’t blame you if you do, because we are taught “negative” emotions exist (they don’t) and that we have to repress and never ‘fail’. Fuck up a lot, and learn from it, learn how to get angry in a way that helps you and doesn’t hurt others. Way more productive than thinking happy thoughts.

[satoblue]

sometimes i think of satoru who never left the grasps of his clan, who never went to jujutsu tech, who never made friends and was isolated bc he was seen as greater than — a version of satoru who isn’t like the one we know.

he is cold and calculated, prideful and silent. he doesn’t tease or joke — he mocks. never having grown out of these traits since he was a child, he’s never had a reason to hide them. incredibly lonely, yet he is used to it. might even prefer it.

and the blindfold. as he’s grown older, continued to master his technique, he’s learned ways to hone the power of his six eyes. rarely is he ever seen with it off. it is a protective shield as much as it is a weapon.

guarded even at his wedding ceremony, a courtship he cared for very little and had no decision in making — he hadn’t removed it for the seemingly special day. this wasn’t a moment of celebration for him after all. he found no joy in such things.

satoru had assumed, with his distant demeanor, that you would come to avoid him just the same, realize there was no hope for you in this union preordained by your clan and his. after all, this marriage was fulfilled out of duty — not love.

and yet, what is it about him that intrigues you so? that you would rather trail behind him wherever he goes, wherever that may be?

satoru is not easily amused, nor is he easily impressed, but the way you choose to keep up with him as he intentionally walks far distances to tire you out fills him with both — along with a nagging irritation because you simply won’t take the hint and leave him be.

what game are you playing at? you must have an ulterior motive. you are already wedded to him, the strongest. is that not enough for you? for your family?

apparently not.

when satoru enters a room, he won’t even glance your way if you happen to occupy it — as if you’re a stranger and not his wife. will barely notice you there until you walk up to him and greet him, your husband.

he’ll do his part, exchange formalities but nothing more. no where is he required to participate in your game of cat and mouse in public.

yet, even in the face of his snide remarks used to scare you off in private, at every turn — you were there consistently. waiting. for what?

if there were two words to describe you, it would be persistent and troublesome. most would stop at any attempts by now after being faced with his lack of interest.

he is both annoyed and intrigued at what the response may be. mainly due to the fact you don’t seem to be losing that spark of yours. if anything, his behavior has you more riled up. satoru couldn’t shake you off no matter how hard he tried. you always found him, always knew where he liked to go to hide from you.

and you’ll talk when you manage to catch up. a lot. about the servants, the food, idle gossip, your family. he’s never met anyone so chatty. but then again, he was never one for small talk. so, maybe it is a good thing. you ramble on about practically any topic that comes to your head. and he realizes in a way, alike himself — you have no filter.

satoru speculates that you have some type of scheme up your sleeve, when really, you just want to get to know the man you were made to marry.

everyone knows who he is, but at the same time, they don’t. it’s complicated. you want to learn more about him, you want to know how expressive those eyes are under that mask. you want to know what makes him tick. the things that make him angry, cry (if possible), or even laugh.

he has a pleasant voice — you’ve deduced — from what little words he speaks, and you’d like to hear him laugh. at least once. you’d like that a lot.

it is why you chatter on. about anything really. and you take it as a win when you say something so far fetched, so absolutely absurd to his ears that the corner of his lip betrays him, fighting not to twitch upwards. and maybe he does come to enjoy it a little.

he’s always been the center of everyone’s attention ever since he was a child. but yours in particular seems to stick lately. he can always feel when someone’s eyes are on him, yet, it is your gaze that seems to stand out amongst them.

or maybe it’s because… he’s starting to watch you too.

[bejeweledinterludes]

i was made for lovin' you.

OR after years of unsaid emotions, supressed feelings and goddamn urges— you and dean finally confront the thing you'd both been avoiding: how there's so much you wanna do in the darkness. and you're gonna make all come true. tonight.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : dean winchester x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 5.6 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS LOOK AWAY !!!, lateish seasons (if you squint) dean winchester x reader's first time (not virgins though), unprotected (mostly) soft sex with feelings, feelings, feelings!, aka porn WITH plot!, p in v, handjob, dean being a munch ofc (this is canon. go argue with the wall.), swearing. please let me know if i missed anything!

𖤐 ────────────────────────

from the moment you first met dean winchester while working a case, you knew you wanted to fuck him.

which was a little strange, because you didn't think like that outright about too many men— not ones you knew in real life, anyway.

but here the stupid bastard was, with his annoyingly pretty face and those stupid, big, rough fightin' hands that could touch you everywhere, pull the prettiest sounds right from you—

oh, we're getting way too far ahead of ourselves. you shoved those thoughts away. come on, this was a freakin' case. lives were at stake.

and once the initial secret lust you had finally went away, you realized you were experiencing something much greater than some stupid crush on dean.

because the more hunted with him, you got to see not just the tough, hard-as-nails side of him— but you saw the other side.

his people side.

you got to see the way he interacted with every single person he encountered on a case, not resting until the threat was completely gone and ganked. and sometimes, when a case hit too close to home, he treated victims and affected family no less than his own fuckin' family.

and you knew from your own personal experience that he'd do just about damn near anything for the family he did have. saw the way he got all soft and sweet around kids— and after a good while, even around you.

and that's when you knew you were in trouble.

you'd known dean for years now. and nothing had ever come of you two except him being one of the greatest friends you'd ever had.

but god help you if you didn't want more.

and nothing like a quick fuck, either. no, you wanted to be there for everything— even on those deathly-quiet nights when dean's thoughts got too loud and the debilitating weight he was carrying all alone just got too heavy, you wanted to be the one keeping him afloat.

it was something dangerously close to love.

you tried to ignore it at first. push it down. and it did work-- for a while. until fucking dean started acting weird around you, too.

and now things were... complicated.

you didn't know exactly when things had shifted so much to the point that it almost became unbearable to even be in the same room as dean without either of you knowingly holding back just spilling your guts-- but god, it was worse than dying.

inevitably, one night, it all just snapped.

there was no dramatic fight, or screamed confessions from either of you. no, it happened late in the darkness, when you both were sharing a motel room.

which would have made you fond of all the times you guys had shared motel rooms in the past— you would've smiled at the thought of younger you trying to make the most out of the fact that you had to share a room with a fucking boy.

but dean was now much more of a man than ever before now.

thank god there's two separate beds, you initially thought.

now, though? there wasn't a need for two beds anymore.

because you still somehow ended up in dean's that was closest to the window.

in his lap.

and kissing him.

you were sure you were in just another one of your dreams or fantasies you conjured up to get off— but you could feel dean's hands on you through your shirt, grasping at the fabric. so this had to be real— but just for precaution, you roll your hips into dean's a little.

yeah. that sound he made when he grinds his hips up into your own was definitely real— and right in your mouth.

you knew you were probably moving too fast— but fuck if you cared. your hands sneak in between you both and trail downward on the front of dean's shirt, not stopping until you reach the hem— and your voice is a whisper against dean's kiss-swollen lips.

"arms up, de."

and dean obliges in a heartbeat, raising his arms up over his head immediately— and he's silently praising the fact he decided to just wear a t-shirt to bed.

you actually somehow had only seen dean shirtless once or twice over the years— the latest being last summer when the air conditioning in the bunker was broken, and you conveniently and hurriedly stated that you had to stay in your room the entire day—because it was so much more skin than you were used to seeing.

but now?

you're staring.

dean's looking at you looking at him— and if the motel room wasn't so dark, you could've sworn his face got a little pinker under your gaze.

but you don't dwell on that for too long. because your hands are itching to reach out and just touch— and the moment your fingers start to graze on dean's biceps first, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a shaky exhale, fighting to keep himself under control.

because it's you that's touching him.

you're still touching him when you lean back and kiss his lips again— and dean is very aware of the fact that you still have your shirt on.

but you have to break the kiss after a while to get stupid air— and your hands are reluctantly taken off of dean's skin, much to his protest. but the words he was about to say die in his throat when he sees where your hands were going.

you grasp the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing, tearing it over your head and discarding it in the same motion— all while you were silently thanking whatever had possessed you not to wear shorts to bed.

or a bra.

and now, dean thinks he might die.

it was his turn to stare, eyes raking and flicking over every inch of you as you're straddling his lap like he didn't know where to look first— and dean's just so in awe, he says what he was thinking out loud in a barely-audible.

"god, you're beautiful."

you can feel a blush burning your cheeks at dean's words-- and judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when he uttered those words, you knew he meant it. you smile softly down at him, your voice just as quiet as his once was.

"you're not so bad, yourself.''

and that makes the corner of dean's lips turn up in a small, soft smirk. god, he loves you. and he's gonna show you that.

all night long.

dean starts with his hands, the rough callouses trailing up your thighs, hips, waist, stomach, tits, arms, back— fucking everywhere on your bare skin as he stares up at you.

but your hands move on dean, too— touching him everywhere you could reach before you go lower, your fingers grazing on the waistband of his boxers— but you look back up at him again, a silent question in your eyes.

dean looks confused for half a second— until he realizes you're asking for permission. then he nods, his heart feeling warmer than it was before.

you tear his boxers off in one fell swoop— and holy goddamn.

you stare— again. and dean's fighting the urge to roll you over onto the mattress and just taking you.

instead, he forces himself to stay still under you— because the urge to do that and see what you do next is stronger.

dean's smirking up at you. the damn idiot. and then he quietly murmurs out—

"your turn."

you'd almost forgotten you still had your underwear on— oh, but dean didn't forget. the speed at which you yank down the fabric and discard it somewhere in the motel room should be a world record.

you look back down at dean again when you get situated back on his lap— but he's not looking at you anymore.

no, the man gulps at the sight of your pussy being exposed to him— and it takes him a while to look back up at you, his voice low and rough.

"c'mere."

you obliged, one of your hands reaching down and grasping dean's own that had been resting on your thigh.

this was new. oh, so new. dean wasn't new to you by any means, and that familiarity, that bond was still there— but he was new in this sense. this was different.

this was real.

dean was a man who rarely ever got what he really wanted— so you wanted dean to get whatever he wanted out of what was about to happen between the two of you.

"tell me what you want, dean," your voice is a mere whisper. "tell me what you want me to do, and i'll do it."

dean really thinks you should be illegal. you're all he's ever wanted—and you're asking him what he wanted.

he doesn't answer right away— dean's eyes rake over your naked form in his lap, and he's got his hands resting on your thighs as he meets your gaze once more.

"touch me."

you knew what dean meant by that. dean knew what he meant by that. and you both were fully aware of the line you were about to cross. but you weren't even nervous. and neither was he.

so take your hands, reaching down and trailing a path on dean's lower torso before you take him all in your hands.

and dean thinks he might die.

again.

because you start stroking him slowly— you weren't an idiot, you knew if you went too fast at first, it would hurt dean like a motherfucker rather than feel good.

and you're just looking at him, reading his reactions, making sure that it feels good.

all dean can get out at first is your name. he had opened his mouth to say something, but that's all that came out in a broken groan. he's letting out these little broken noises of pleasure— and his head has to fall back on the shitty motel room’s headboard so he doesn't cum right there.

you keep your pace of your hand on dean's dick steady, only increasing the intensity after a few moments when you can tell he needed more— by the way he gripped onto your hip, his rough fingers curling into the meat of your skin— and by the way he was fighting back the moans that had been treating to escape his throat.

it was definitely embarrassing how close dean was to cumming already, he knew that. but he also knew it was because it was you who was bringing him there. not some quick fuck with a chick he'd met that night, or his own hand— no.

it was yours.

and that thought combined with the way you're still looking at him— in awe, like he's something out of a museum, gets him way closer to the edge you were guiding him to.

"i'm— fucking christ, jesus—"

your name along with the man upstairs' son had come out of dean's mouth in a desperate attempt to warn you that he was right there, all because of you.

"i gotcha, dean," you whisper, and your free hand not jerking him off reaches to cup the side of his face as his head's tilted up towards you.

"just let it happen."

and that does it for him.

dean cums hard, his hands clutching on your thigh and part of your hips with all he's got, gasping and groaning, letting little out broken moans the whole way down.

you just guide dean through it with your hand, watching him under you as his skin was all flushed and red now, hair sticking up everywhere (courtesy of your hands), his pupils blown out and half-lidded before shutting fully.

"y'okay?" you whisper, your eyes flicking over dean under you. his own eyes continued to be closed— and you take that time to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your hand clean before looking back and giving dean your full attention.

your other hand was still on his face, your thumb grazing on his cheek now, and for a split second, you almost think dean must not have liked it, or you went too far, because he wasn't saying—

"holy shit."

the curse leaves dean's mouth as his eyes open— and all he can do is reach his free hand up that wasn't grasping yours between the two of you already and rest it on the one cupping his face.

you can't even open your softly smiling mouth to respond, because the next words are coming out of dean's mouth, his voice still raw and rough from the way you just broke him apart.

"you know what i wanna do right now?"

you tilt your head a little to the side, still looking down at dean below you with his back resting against the headboard as you so desperately wanted to know.

"what?"

dean's downright devilish smirk reappears— and his eyes flick down to your almost dripping pussy that was spread as you straddled his legs before looking back up at you, his voice still rough as ever.

"I wanna taste you."

and a strangled sound gets stuck in your throat at the mere thought of dean eating you out. maybe it was a little embarassing how breathless your voice sounded when you leaned just a fraction closer to him.

"then go ahead."

an actual growl escapes dean at that— and you don't need to tell the man twice. he's got you flipped over and pinning you down, your scorching back hitting the cold motel sheets before you can even blink. you stare up at him when he hovers over you, both hands on the sides of your head, holding him up— and he's just looking at you.

but dean doesn't stay like that for too long. his lips hit your neck immediately after he leans down enough— and he starts just attacking at your skin, nipping, biting, sucking— he draws a path all the way down, until he reaches your now sopping pussy.

dean changes his position when he does, spreading your slick inner thighs further apart and settling between your legs, wrapping a strong arm around the meat of your thighs.

but he hesitates for a brief moment. he likes eating out pussy, but did you enjoy it? his pussy-drunk eyes flick up to yours— and you're a sight all spread out for him, your back against the pillows and sitting up a little so you could watch.

"i ain't gonna be gentle. y'know that, right?"

you knew that dean had always been considerate of you, long before this night— for as long as you'd known him, for that matter. but hearing him tell you that he didn't want to be gentle made your gaze soften and a smile tug on your lips as you nodded in response.

"yeah, i know."

and in that moment, dean thinks he loves you.

well, in all actuality, dean knows he loves you— but seeing you all soft and just so goddamn pretty in the moonlight that's filtering in through the motel room window, he's well aware of the blessing that's before him.

dean gives you one last smile— softer this time. then he dives in, burying in his face and going at you full force, his tongue flat and working against your puffy, slick folds before letting out a groan that vibrates everything.

and dean was right.

he was not gentle about it.

your eyes threaten to flutter shut as dean's tounge works on you— but you force them to be half-lidded as you look down at the sight of dean eating you out like a starved man.

and he's looking right back at you as he does it.

your hand flies to grasp onto dean's that was still resting on your thigh as his mouth continues to attack you— and he gladly takes it in his, not faltering his pace once.

you couldn't help but bite down hard on your bottom lip, attempting to contain the moans and noises that were threatening to spill out of you— and dean isn’t having it.

“nuh uh, darlin’,” dean shakes his head between your thighs, talking right into your pussy between flicks of his tongue on your clit. “i wanna hear you— wanna hear how goddamn good i’m makin’ ya feel right now.”

and with that, your mouth drops open almost immediately. it's like a switch flipped in you— and the first moan you let out is his fuckin' name.

"dean..."

christ on a cross. dean had wanted to hear just anything come out of your pretty mouth, but his name being the first thing on the tip of your tongue does things to him.

dean's imagined you moaning his name countless times, of course, but nothing can compare to the real you right now— tits heaving, groaning and eyes fluttering a little each time he brushes on a few sensitive spots on your pussy with his tongue.

now, it's embarrassing how close you are to cumming on dean's tongue. and oh, he notices. he holds your bucking and writhing hips down with his free hand that's not grasping and holding onto yours—

and goes to fuckin' town.

"fuck— dean!" you think you're gonna pass out— because you could barely hear the sounds of dean slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit when you cum without warning, back arching off of the sheets and grinding into his tongue, your grip on his hand becoming almost bruising as the pleasure cascades over you in waves.

dean doesn't look away from you for a second as your pussy flutters on his tongue, moving his mouth slower once more to not let a drop of you go to waste, making sure you're completely spent, pulling soft groans and gasps from your lips.

your legs tremble and shake under the arm that dean had wrapped around your thigh— and he takes a second to just watch you in the post-orgasm state you're in.

"y'okay?" dean's voice is rough but soft at the same time, looking up at you from his position between your legs like you're the night sky itself.

you open your eyes again, lifting your head off of the pillows just enough to see dean's eyes looking right back at you— and oh, he's a sight, his lips, nose and chin absolutley covered in your slick— and his hair's even more messy than before now.

"yeah", you breathe out softly, managing a nod against the pillows. "yeah, i'm all good. c'mere."

dean sees the soft look in your eyes— and his own gaze melts as he obeys, lifting off of the mattress and out from between your legs to hover over you, your faces just inches apart again.

dean can't look away.

and he never wants to.

"you're goddamn gorgeous, y'know that?" dean murmurs as he looks down at your moonlit face.

at that, you reach your hand up in the distance between you two, cupping the side of dean's face— and his head immediately leans into your touch before you whisper back.

"and you're perfect, dean."

dean's chest tightens at that— and his gaze somehow softens even more. no one's ever called him perfect before, and he couldn't think of one person in his life who even believed that to be true.

but you were looking at dean like he was.

you notice dean's reaction immediately— it was hard not to with how close you were.

you meant those words you said to dean— because being perfect wasn't about having absolutely no flaws or weaknesses.

it was about knowing that, and still carrying on anyway.

and then it clicks. because you could talk all you wanted to dean.

or you could show him how perfect he was.

"lemme show you," you whisper before dean could even open his mouth to deny it. "let me show you how perfect you are, dean."

and those words are completely breaking down what little resistance dean had left. his eyes actually get a little misty as he’s looking down at you— because he can't believe you're here, telling him everything he's never heard before.

dean nods— and his voice is shaking with anticipation mixed with pure awe.

"yeah. yeah, okay."

and that's all you needed. you look at dean's face one last time before lifting your head to close the little distance between the both of you, kissing him with everything you had to give him.

you didn't kiss dean like before— that was in a state of pure lust, desire, and want. now, you're kissing him softer, slower, and with purpose.

and purpose was exactly what dean needed. he tries to keep himself upright and hovering over you, but the way you're kissing him has his arms trembling as you're literally melting him.

you only take my lips off of dean’s when the air he and you had been breathing through your noses wasn’t enough— and your thumb grazes on his cheek again as his forehead rests on top of yours, eyes fluttering a little as i whisper against his lips.

“lay down for me.”

you don't have to say it again. dean obliges in a heartbeat, lifting off of you and rolling onto his back in one fluid motion— and you follow behind, tossing your leg over his to straddle him once more

dean’s hands go to your hips once you’re straddling him, looking up at you now— he still looks a little wrecked from earlier, and his chest is rising and falling in a slower, steadier rhythm than before, like he’s trying to calm himself down.

but seeing your naked form straddling him like this once more is just making his heart start to thump against his chest— again.

your hands find dean’s own on your hips,your fingers trailing on his skin, grazing past his wrists and up his arms— you're not exactly slow, but you're also not very fast with it, either.

no, you take your time touching dean all over again, fingertips tracing over every scar and dent you could see and feel as you're straddling him. your eyes flick up to his face, meeting his gaze once more— but you just keep touching him.

"oh, look at you," your voice is an awed whisper while your hands move on dean’s chest, grazing on the anti-possession tattoo he had on his skin. "see? you’re perfect."

and dean can’t help the little shiver your touch brings him right now, even though he's literally just laying below you, half-propped up by the pillows like you once were. he just can’t help it, because you’ve always been able to get the best reactions out of him.

dean swallows hard as your hands continue their journey over his body— your fingertips roaming over his skin, tracing all the scars he’d earned, right across his chest and down to his stomach.

and his breath actually hitches when you touch his anti-possession tattoo again.

your fingers trace on dean’s tattoo, watching and loving his reactions to just your freakin' hands.

and your hands stay resting on dean’s chest, but a little closer to his shoulders, shifting closer to him in his lap, pressing the entirety of your bare body completely against his.

your voice is still a whisper when you talk again, searching his face as you ask him to do what you've always wanted to.

because you needed to show dean how much you wanted him.

"can i ride you?"

if dean was hard before, it's nothing compared to the way his dick almost hurts now, throbbing at the way you asked permission to ride him.

"god, yes" is what comes out from dean's clenched jaw, and his gaze is locked onto yours as his hands rest on your hips.

a soft smile tugs on your lips again, your gaze flicking down for a brief moment when you hear how strained dean’s voice was— and the sight of him hard for you sends a wave of heat that pools in your stomach, making you clench around nothing.

because you needed dean just as badly as he needed you.

your eyes flick back up to dean’s green ones. and you notice that neither of you are nervous for his to happen. this was dean, after all. you'd wanted him in the least friendly way possible for as long as you could remember— and now? it was actually going to come true.

you didn’t have to ask dean anything else, or even say something. he wanted all of you— and you were going to give it to him.

so that’s why you shift a little, reaching down and guiding yourself to sink onto dean, keeping his gaze while your hands are still on his shoulders.

a broken groan escapes dean when you start to lower yourself down on him— and his own body’s reaction to your walls sucking him in just makes him want you even more.

dean lets his gaze travel all across your face— and he’s still looking right into your eyes when he lets himself go completely slack underneath you, letting you take the lead.

your fingers dig a little into dean’s shoulder at the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched— and your breath hitches, hard. your head falls forward a little as you screw your eyes shut.

your mind had felt like it was going over a thousand miles per second, but when your legs finally hit dean's and your pussy hits the base of his dick, everything just... goes away.

and dean couldn’t keep himself completely still anymore. he actually growled a little when he felt you fully sink down on him, and the sound that left him when he feels your tightness around him was a little more primal-sounding than he’d like to admit right now.

"oh, fuck," he breathes out your name, "you’re tryna kill me."

you can only respond to dean’s words with a strangled noise as the burning sensation was becoming full-throttle now, your grip on dean’s shoulders a little tighter, your head still hung as you try to keep my breathing steady.

because you literally couldn’t move yet. it was still the best feeling you'd ever felt— but you had to get used to dean's dick being buried deep inside of you before you could actually start to move on top of him.

and the way you’re holding on to his shoulders right now and how you’re trying to hold back little noises is driving dean insane.

he’s gripping your hips so tight that it has to be almost painful, and his eyes are fixed on you, still watching you while he tries to stay still for you. but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort on his part.

dean's chest is rising and falling fast, and he can’t help it when he finally chokes out your name in a whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.

"move. please."

at dean’s plea, you flick your hips just a little to see if you were adjusted yet.

and oh, were you ever. your fingers finally release their death grip on dean’s shoulders, one of your hands finding and grasping one of his own that was on your hip— and you finally start to move on top of him, rocking your hips into his.

the groan that escapes dean is the deepest one yet, his hand clutching onto yours and his eyes shutting for a moment as he feels you moving, his free hand tightening on your hip again.

"oh, god," dean gasps out, "jesus—"

you let out a raggedy exhale mixed with a moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head as you continue to ride dean's dick. it was hard, but you managed to keep your eyes open and half-lidded and on him, wanting to see his face— and you grind your hips into his faster and harder.

seeing you like this was getting to be borderline unbearable for dean.

your tits are bouncing a little in dean's face, and you're just not letting up, and you're so tight and warm, and he just fuckin' loves you—

dean realizes he's gonna cum if you keep this up.

and the embarrassing part is you barely even started riding him.

so it’s a damn good thing he’s still got a shred of control over himself right now.

"je— s— slow it down for a sec, darlin'," dean manages to get out, gritting his teeth as his eyes screw shut. "please."

the moment those words leave dean’s mouth, you immediately do as he says— you don’t abruptly stop, instead gradually slowing your movements to allow for an easy transition.

your hand trails up from dean's shoulder to cup on the side of his face while your're still on top of him— your eyes then search his when you breathlessly whisper to him.

"you okay?"

dean opens his eyes when you ask him if he’s okay right now, knowing that was pure concern in your words. he’s taking a moment to let his body level out a bit, since you stopped like he asked you to. and when he does, he manages a nod once he’s able to somehow form words.

"yeah, 'm good, darlin’—" dean swallows and takes a big gulp of air. "just got a 'lil too close to the edge for a second there. don’t wanna blow it right now."

an exhale of relief you didn’t know you were holding in was let out at dean’s confirmation— and your thumb almost absentmindedly grazes on the skin of his cheek as your hand was still on the side of his face.

"oh," you also nod, gaze softening as you look down at dean under you still. his words make you feel warm inside, along with a little sense of pride, too— but you still had to confirm. "it doesn’t hurt, though, right?"

"doesn’t hurt,” dean responds immediately. and that’s a bit of a complete understatement, because being inside of you right now felt like heaven. his own hand comes up to where yours is, his fingers skimming over your skin as he smiles softly up at you once more. "just wanna be able to last a 'lil bit longer for you, 's all."

your eyebrows scrunch together at that, and your expression is almost goddamn melted at this point as you look down at dean. you weren't sure why those words impacted you so much, but your chest tightens with emotion before you speak again.

"oh, de," you literally whisper, your thumb still skimming back and forth on dean’s cheek. "y'know you don’t have to do that."

"yeah, i do," dean murmurs immediately in response, looking right into your eyes the whole time he talks. "i've wanted this— you for goddamn years. i'm not lettin' this end yet."

so you don't.

you nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss on dean's lips before you talk again.

"okay," you nod against his forehead. "just move me when you want to, alright?"

dean gratefully nods, too, appreciating your understanding. his hands find and hold your hips again—this time, with less of a death-grip. and after he takes a steadying breath, he starts to move you.

you just let dean work and grind your hips into his own, holding his shoulder and face with your hands, allowing him to take what he needed and set the pace.

after a while, though, dean lifts you up off his dick by your hips a few inches before setting you back down fully, repeating the motion— starting to actually fuck you a little.

you'd been quiet for the most part so far— but once the head of dean's dick brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, a string of broken moans and gasps spill from your lips.

and that just spurs dean on.

you'd both waited long enough now. it's been years of stolen looks, suppressed jealousy, unspoken thoughts and feelings— and tonight, you're making it all come true in the darkness of the motel room.

thank god dean's hands had been guiding your hips— because you're starting to unravel faster than you can comprehend. and so is dean.

dean's fucking up into you now like he'll never be able to fuck you again— which you both know wasn't true. and after tonight, you know you'd happily sleep with dean's dick buried inside of your pussy.

it takes only a whimper falling from your lips for dean to know that you're close— and your hand flies down to one of his on your hips again. he gladly takes it, wanting to hold your hand when he cums inside of you—

wait. is he allowed to do that?

"y— oh," dean groans out your name— he has not been silent throughout this entire ordeal, either. broken noises of pleasure and little groans of your name escaped his lips whenever your walls clenched around him. "can i— god—"

you didn't have to ask what dean meant by that. you nod almost frantically as his hand are still gripping your hips, guiding your pussy up and down his dick— and you squeeze his other hand tighter, the one you were holding.

and only then does dean let himself go, again.

your orgasm comes at the same time dean's does— and you both arch into each other and trembling as your moans echo off the motel room's walls. dean's face buries between your tits and groans into the skin while he spills up into you, your juices mixing with his.

you both stay like that for a while, naked, sweating, slick and gasping for air for god knows how long— until dean's raw and breathless voice vibrating on your breasts breaks the silence.

"i think i was made for you."

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you now have two ( 2 ) new message from the author ! ↓

oh heyyy... are any of y'all still here ??? but seriously, on a real note— if you have stayed to the very end: first, THANK YOU for reading! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write, and i want to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

OH i also used a very special headcanon from @figthoughts' mastermind brain for this one because mr. dean winchester holding your hand while he eats you out is very much and totally 100% canon for me as well. fig you match my freak like no other and i hope to one day write as good and absolutely filthily as you do HEHE smooches to you my pookie <3

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3