#The emotion of emptiness

[jerry-the-leech]

silly little Athena doodles hehehe

so I was bored and started doodling Athena I didn’t expect it to be good but I like it a lot more than I thought I would. There was a post I saw but I can’t find it :( that said that Athena has winions so I added those in. Kind of forgot what winions look like but whatever we’ll be fine (pun intended).

[fervi-g]

Lake Mungo (2008) dir. Joel Anderson

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

Mech pilots as a chronic illness metaphor. I would kill the world for you. I need you to help me out of the cockpit. I swear I’m still every bit as useful to you as I was before. We’re going to need to add another drug to the cocktail. You won’t leave me when I finally wash out, right? I don’t get to be normal anymore. I would kill the world for you. I hope I get to try.

[glindauplland]

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES | THE CASE OF THE VERY LONG STAIRWAY

Sorry. No version of this where I didn't come get you, is there?

[thegurlwhoisntthere]

Y’know, I feel like we don’t give the writers enough credit when it comes to Soren

So often when a character is the “comic relief”, they start off with dynamic personalities and then lose them as the season go on (looking at you Cat Valentine and Steve Palchuk), but not Soren

No, Soren somehow manages to jump between being comic relief and genuinely serious and caring seamlessly. And it’s all the same character, too! He doesn’t feel like he’s switching personalities they’re just other facets of who he is and it’s amazing!!!

[professionallyunstable]

why do i feel so empty?

[mustfindcreativeusername]

Sometimes I remember he died, he was dead for real, but SO MANY people loved him SO MUCH that he was brought back to life and got to have so many more adventures and get old and eventually retire and yes it's a fictional character but sometimes I think about that and I have to lie down and have a cry about it. We love you Sherlock Holmes

[ectoodle]

gongyi xiao got covered up big time by my watermark, so here they all are...luo binghe's wives

[the-oracles-codex-if]

Just read infamous for the first time, and I am afraid I won't be going to sleep. Holy shit. I am in love with this IF 😭

[whirlpool-blogs]

(small child starting to meltdown) “Hey, hey. *snapping* We’ll play later, okay?”

[klancer-warrior]

call me friend but keep me closer

ugh I'm in my post-canon klance feels thanks to @existwound's fic 'let me in if I break'. and I had when the party's over playing the entire time I read it and it JUST FIT SO PERFRCTLY????

guys if you haven't read it yet, go NOW

[intrusive-thoughts-only]

*actively avoiding my thoughts with as many distractions and lengthy dissociation sessions as possible*

[kinky-cas]

Jack should have tattled about the empty deal because the huge blowout fight Dean and Cas would have had about it would have been SO fun to watch for me personally.

Jack lets something slip (accidentally? on purpose? idk) when they're all in the library and Dean slowly turns to look at Cas.

"And when, exactly, were you planning on telling me—us about this?"

*Cas, jaw tensed* "I wasn't."

(at this point, Sam grabs Jack by the arm and starts backing out of the room)

"You weren't. Of course you weren't. Because secrets and deals always end so well for us."

"We have more important things to worry about right now, Dean. This isn't exactly pressing."

"A deal that could get you taken by an ancient eldritch force at any time isn't pressing?! "

*bitchy sigh* "At any time is a flagrant exaggeration. I wasn't exactly concerned about triggering it accidentally, or soon. It's hardly any of your business, anyways."

"None of my business? None of my business that you made a deal with some eldritch entity that has a personal grudge against you. A deal for your life, Cas!"

"I have full confidence in my ability to manage it, as I have been managing it, and the terms aren't impacting anyone else."

"Oh, because you think you keeping yourself miserable all the time is just a you problem, huh?"

"Definitionally, yes, it is a "me problem", Dean."

"Right, because you don't think the rest of us are at all impacted by knowing that if you're happy it'll literally kill you?"

"Well if things had gone as planned you wouldn't have had to know, would you?"

"Not knowing is worse! And besides, Jack still knew! You were going to let him carry that by himself? Did you ever consider what that kind of knowledge can do to a kid? What it would have done to him when the Empty did eventually take you? Because it sure doesn't seem like you had any plan to get out of the deal eventually!"

"Don't you dare make your issues with this about Jack. I won't apologize to you for saving his life, and frankly I don't understand why we're discussing this. The deal is already made, and I am not going to risk Jack's life by interfering with it now. I've been perfectly fine so far. This discussion is pointless."

"Pointless. Pointless? A discussion about the deal that's apparently just waiting to kill you is pointless?"

"I don't see what arguing about this will accomplish. It was my choice to offer my life in exchange for Jack's, and my "happiness" is certainly a more than worthwhile trade for his life and safety. Are you implying otherwise?"

"That is not what I meant and you know it. Of course I'm glad we have Jack back, that's not my point!"

"Then pray, tell, Dean, what is your point? Because as far as I can see it, the only purpose this discussion is serving is as totally unnecessary additional insurance against the Empty showing up right now."

"And what's that supposed to mean??"

*audible eyeroll* "I don't know, Dean, clearly I'm thrilled to be arguing with you right now—"

(this goes on for another 20 minutes, and ends with neither of them talking to each other for at least 3 days. and then we get to see dean being paranoid about cas being happy and guilty about cas NOT feeling happy all at once, and tying himself up into knots about it.)

[melsieee]

The blank eyes of a child who doesn’t know himself

[syntheticsymp]

Niktotine.

Babe you are so right. Never in my life has a single word ignited an idea so quick.

In my HCs, I think Nikto had been smoking since he was young (a teen in Russia thinking he's so cool) and was probably encouraged by his father. He likes the cheap cigarettes that hurt his lungs to smoke. And I like to believe that he swears up and down he isn't addicted, when he definitely is.

Tw: smoking, implied kidnapping, Nikto being Nikto. Unedited and mainly brain worms

-

Nikto had long since perfected the art of torture, he knew how stress presented itself in his victims. Sweating, twitching, a bouncing leg. Normal people weren't good at hiding those tells.

And neither were you.

When he finally arrived home from KorTac, he could practically taste your panic in the air. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything particularly upsetting today. You had been living with him long enough to get used to his behavior.

It didn’t take him long to track you down. Sitting on the couch, head in your hands.

What could possibly be stressing you out? Nikto had taken you away from all your problems. Had the freedom to go into town been too much for you?

The voices were questioning him, nitpicking his decisions, as always. He huffed as he attempted to block them out. They weren’t his priority. He had just gotten home, he had other things to focus on.

Nikto sat down next to you, not bothering to give you the space you needed. You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, the hollow dip in your skin mimicking his own, deformed face.

He didn't want to ask, and to be honest, he really didn't care. But you were his pet, his питомица. He had a duty to you.

“Something is wrong.”

It wasn't a question.

You nodded slowly, turning to face him and hesitantly meeting his blue gaze. Your voice was pained when you responded. “Yes.”

You didn't offer more than that. And if you wanted to stay quiet, fine. Nikto wouldn't push. He hated it when people did that to him. If you wanted to tell him, you would. As long as you didn't lie or try to leave him, he wouldn't force you to speak.

So, instead, he acted. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap.

You kicked out. “Hey!”

His glare quickly silenced you. It didn't matter if you were in a bad mood, you weren't to fight him. He was attempting to be kind, giving you physical contact despite how he hated it. It was best if you didn't push your luck.

When he finally had you fully in his lap, he shoved a gloved hand in his pocket. You were tense, lips pressed into a hard line as you fought to keep quiet.

Eventually, he pulled out a small box of Parliment cigarettes and his smuggled lighter. Technically, the doctors said he shouldn't be allowed near either. The lighter was a danger in his hands and nicotine scraped his lungs.

But smoking worked better than his meds most days. Starting his day with his pretty thing handing him two orange pills and a cigarette in bed was just the right combination to keep the voices at bay. Just enough that they'd be content.

Who cared if the nicotine would rot his teeth when half of them had been pulled out by Mr. Z anyway. And if that man couldn't kill him, cancer didn't have a chance, either.

He handed you the lighter as he placed the cigarette between his cracked lips, balancing it between what remained of them. You took the lighter, just like always. It was a ritual for you to hold the flames to him. It was better than him doing it himself.

The white paper quickly caught fire and a thin trail of smoke wound its way to the ceiling, infecting the house that was supposedly a home. Parliaments left a scratchy taste in the back of his throat, a dull sort of ache he found just as addictive as the nicotine itself.

He blew smoke out of his scars as you started to melt into him. Resting your head against his chest, seeking comfort now that your stress had dissipated and morphed into weariness. You were seeking Nikto out, finally starting to give in to his broken version of love. That, or perhaps the smoke simply wore down your senses.

And, with ever watchful eyes, he noticed. It was hard not to.

The faint scent of cheap cigarettes followed Nikto like a ghost. You had grown used to the smell overtime, and even started to look for it whenever you were nervous, even if it wasn't intentional. You'd grow almost calm around him after he returned from smoking outside. And if he did inside, you would appear in the room in a matter of moments.

Even now, you were curled up against his chest, chin tilted upward so you could breathe in the nicotine as he exhaled.

A curious habit he had given you. Perhaps it was time to give you a taste of the real thing?

Nikto shifted you on his lap, forcing you to look up at him. You blinked a few times, still sleepy from whatever had caused you to stress earlier.

He held the cigarette out to you, tapping it against your lower lip, signaling for you to open.

Your eyes went wide. “Uhm, no thank you. I’m alright.”

“It helps us,” he reasoned, one of the first times he had attempted to do so. “It will help you.”

“What if I get addicted?” you asked, voice small.

Oh, питомица. You already are.

“We won't let you.”

He saw the flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You knew he wasn’t a liar. He had said before that there was no point in it. His word was good, the only thing left you could trust.

You carefully took the cigarette in your mouth, holding it between your lips just as delicately as you had done to his cock the night before. You didn’t breathe in, simply resting it there as if that would trick him.

Nikto rolled his eyes and pinched your nose.

You sputtered, forced to breathe in. Your eyes quickly teared up.

He pulled the cigarette away just as quickly as he gave it to you. Your cheeks were puffy with smoke, so he poked one. A thin stream of smoke fell from your lips and contaminated the air, mixing with his own smoke.

“Better?”

You slumped against him, offering a tired nod.

The voices in his head offered positive feedback for once. He had helped you. He may not be capable of emotion, but he at least had his питомица. He could have you without hurting or killing you. It was only a matter of time until he did, but for now, you loved him enough to rest against his chest. And he’d make sure you still loved him even if he hurt you. He couldn't have you leaving him, now could he?

He let out a proud huff, flicking what remained of his cigarette to the coffee table. Normally, he’d put it out on his pants leg or you, but he supposed he could hold off.

He used the squishy flesh where his thumb fingernail used to be tilted your chin up.

He mushed his lips against yours, tasting the nicotine on your tongue. You responded with the same desperation, moving just as sloppily as him. You were too tired to squirm, instead leaning into him just like he wanted you to.

You were becoming just as addicted to him as he was to you. And oh, didn't Nikto love watching your fall.

[vk20002]

It hurts the most when you want to tell them something but you realize you can’t anymore.