#meg masters imagine

[laufire]

six sentence sunday (iii)

Down under, Meg had been as good as royalty. In the good days, lesser demons either prostrated themselves before her without hesitation or were filled by envy and rancour barely held at bay. But everyone, every single one of them, sook out her favour as the rare treasure it was.

Abaddon had been no exception. The Knight of Hell had claimed to kill in Meg’s honour, had brought down poor suckers as offerings. Meg felt more than a little amused by this, but even more so by the pleasure of acting above it all; a higher class of being that she was, by virtue of her ties with Azazel, Prince of Hell.

Now Meg’s nails dug painfully on the armrests of her wheelchair. Something told her that pattern was going to hold for the reunion.

[archie-sunshine]

YEAHH THE RUNG ERA!!

GIVE US ALL YOUR RUNG IDEAS!!

also the way you draw Meg’s shlong oh my gawd holy moly I’m panting 😩

OK SO I GOT CARRIED AWAY AGAINNNNNN!!!

OK! SO FIRST OF ALL TO PREFACE I FULLY BELIEVE THAT THERE ARE NO ULTERIOR MOTIVES FOR RUNG TO BE FRAGGING HIS PATIENTS, HE GENUINELY ONLY WANTS THE BEST FOR THEM.

that being said, I hc that rung happens to have an incredibly high libido. I think he has exceptional self control, because he has no shame about sexual self care or what he finds arousing or sexually stimulating, so he probably is VERY regular about masturbating, and thus, is not nearly as pent up as most other characters I write about.

I think as a dominant rung tends to be very clinical with his patients, very patient, giving, allowing his patients to learn and express their desires in a safe environment. He'd definitely be very big on like bdsm tests and safety and safewords, his form of control would feel less like dominance and more like guidance, which could be strange for bots who frag a lot and aren't used to bots using terms like 'session plan' and 'internalized shame' during sex.

I also feel like he has a lot of theories surrounding the use of sex as part of healing from trauma, which should be pretty evident considering the way i draw him fragging. I imagine he's acutely aware of the fact a lot of bots on the lost light have issues with vulnerability and submission, and rung would probably use something like that as a foothold to introduce the idea of 'hey maybe if you let me take the reigns in a fun sexual situation, you could find handling a lack of control easier in your day to day life!' I do think that rung would in many ways get off on the submission of others, though it sounds predatory when put that way. I think Rung likes making bots feel good and seeing them relax in a way that following sexy orders does.

In addition to that, I think rung has a mild(huge) fixation on messing with bot's valves, specifically bots who usually spike. Even if he is typically more a valve than a spiker, i think he does enjoy giving valve oral or fingering a lot.

I also think he especially has a bit of a thing for size difference, whether he's fragging with a bot as huge as fort max or one as little as minimus. I do think his sterner side comes out to play more with bigger, more reluctant bots, though he's never really truly mean so much as chiding or scolding.

MOST IMPORTANTLY THOUGH! AND I BELIEVE THIS SHOULD GO UNSAID!

Rung is the MASTER of aftercare. he's a big believer in skin to skin contact(plating to plating contact??), so it's lots of petting, snuggling, hugging, hand holding. I think he would likely warn a partner coming down from a scene that he was going to stop touching them if he had to go get them energon or a towel or something, but he would try to keep at least one point of contact.

So yeah! valvedom/gentle dominant rung is my favourite hc for him personally. I'm sure you can sense a theme with my enjoyment of 'tiny top big bottom' but I think you'll forgive me for that right?? right?? yeah.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Interesting Megs practicaly dealing with his relatives and Death itself ouch. magine when Op brings the allspark back Unicron senses it and brings Meg back to life to drop at their feet for them to deal with

Starscream: Master! You're alive!

Megatron:*free of his roommates now, looks very haunted,* I'm neither that nor dead.

Starscream:.. Uh what?

Megatron: I will never be fully alive nor leave this mortal coil. I will never be able to repent fully for my actions. I am leaving now so don't look for me. Do not fight in my name because decepticons are dead just like i am

Megatron: But if i hear about you lot or anyone else making a council i will come back to personally hit whoever over the helm. Understood?

Op: I missed you

Megatron: I am trying not to have a breakdown here

Poor Megatron. He will have no peace after being released from the Unmaker's grasp. In all seriousness, I do imagine his time floating around in Unicron's mindscape where all the Titans chatter would do him some good. Being able to hear them speak in their strange tones would have to adjust his view of reality.

So many giants staring down at him like he's little more than an ant, their thoughts booming and powerful, beating down on him like a relentless force. Entities far older than him, all wiser and ancient enough to have seen the birth of galaxies. He, I imagine, reeled in their presence, unable to handle their oppressive wills. Just a few weeks under them being more than enough to force him to think, especially as each tried to speak to him.

Moon attempted to call out to him, but so many millennia dealing with entities such as Unicron dampened his ability to recognize his limits and the weakness of others. Megatron, unable to handle the great Titan's calls, screamed into the void. Moon did not try and contact him after and instead merely observed the spark of the one the Autobots feared so greatly. Megatron could always feel Moon watching and listening. There was no respite from his gaze.

Mars did not speak often, but when he did, Megatron felt the earth shattering might of a being who held no love for him. Mars knew who it was that led their world to fall into its bitter state. He knew that Optimus and Megatron were the source, and while not angry at either, his bitterness did not lend Megatron any favor in the mindscape of the Unmaker. The few times he spoke up, his words were heard by all and embedded into Megatron's very spark.

"You who tore our world apart, do you not lament the loss? Was the devastation worthwhile? Did the sacrifices of beings far greater than you mean nothing?"

"I meant to give our people freedom."

"And yet you gave them war."

"It was the only way. Nothing would have changed without conflict."

"Perhaps. But the destruction had no reason to echo this long. Tell me, how many sparklings have been wrapped into your war?"

"..."

"I see you as a mere sparkling. Small, frail, foolish, easily demolished beneath my pedes. And yet I value each child of Primus equally. Do you understand? It matters not who you are or what power you hold. Under Primus, All Are One."

Pluto spoke only in visions of violence. Megatron saw destruction far greater than anything he had wrought. He watched planets burn in the wrath of a Titan angry at the loss of so many. He saw civilizations turned to mere ash. He saw a Titan hardly bigger than Omega Supreme throwing everything into a desperate battle against Predacons in order to defend another Titan and their charges. He saw energon split and scars gained.

Pluto did not speak, but his visions told Megatron more than enough. Violence had its reason, but in the end, it was dooming. To a being who watched stars burn out, Megatron's war, while brutal, meant very little. Pluto knew his anger, and in Pluto's sight, it meant nothing. Megatron never felt so small as when Pluto looked down upon him in distaste.

Unicron never needed to speak. The fact that Megatron resided within his mind was more than enough for the warlord to see visions of entropy that left him pondering the meaning of his existence. None of the Titans regarded him with warmth, that was save for Earth.

She was used to reaching out to her fragile offspring, and so her words were soft. She called out across the void, wrapping her attention around Megatron like a cloak. He never saw her, nor did he know who exactly she was. Unlike the Titans, she had no form that he could sense aside from a vague sense that she was below the ground of the terran world he once threatened to cyberform. Surprisingly, she held no anger toward him. Instead, he felt her pity and her sorrow on his behalf. She saw his mind and his memory and she whispered of how sorry she was that he'd been burdened so long. She swept him away into dreams of places he had never seen, some on Earth, and others somewhere amongst the stars.

She was a comfort, and through her murmurs, Megatron found a degree of peace and contemplation.

"You were held in bondage. I can see the echoes of your shackles. You hold them close to yourself even now."

"I serve no master, not anymore."

"You are a slave to your past and the pain it brought."

"I am not! I am Megatron of Kaon, Champion of the Pits! I have freed myself and my people!"

"That may be so. But the things you sought to escape from live on in your actions. The scars that dug so deep into your frame have now been mirrored on those around you."

"What?"

"Your anger has infected your fellows. Your once righteous rage has turned into something dark. Sweet child, you must let it go. It is not too late to end this madness which has possessed you."

Megatron listened to Earth and shook under the gazes of the rest. He was not sure how long he spent with them, but when Unicron forced him to return to the living realm, he was changed. Seeing everything from the perspectives of such mighty beings... everything felt so much more wasteful. He had not needed to destroy as much as he had, nor had Optimus needed to drag their war on in response to his madness. The pushed each other ever onward, but free of Unicron, Megatron decided to be the first to put an end to the cycle of madness.

When he turned and faced the Autobots, he knew that one day he would have to suffer for his crimes. But for now, he needed time to think and Cybertron needed time to heal.

And so he took to the stars, guided by whispers of the Titans that guarded Unicron so diligently. His thoughts drifted to Halley's Comet, and he found a destination. Perhaps there would be merit to traveling alongside the living memorial that was the youngest of the Titans.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Fat People

James H Longmore: after yesterday's incident, I'd like to offer a full and complete apology to the humorless scolds of the woke mob Franz Kafka: Kafka: well, good Kafka: see that it doesn't happen again!

Longmore: look, this story about joe's unwanted penis is just a light-hearted comedic jaunt! Kafka: booo! Longmore: [wiping sweat from brow] jeez tough crowd Longmore: better switch gears Longmore: hey how about a story about gross fatties?

Longmore: i have another story too Longmore: it's a terrifying descent into the depraved world of feederism Longmore: cuz there's nothing scarier Longmore: than a fat person Longmore: steve knows what i'm talking about Stephen King: he's right!

Poe: wow, these stories are kinda problematic! Poe: you're really kinda othering to trans and fat people Longmore: well, i am originally English Poe: oh yeah ok, that scans

Longmore: there's this guy called… the feeder Longmore: and they call him that because he Longmore: get ready for it Longmore: feeds people King: oh shit! oh wow! that is terrifying! King: i thought i was prepared but i was not prepared

King: i think King: i think i need to sit down for a minute Poe: are you going to be ok, steve? King: yeah, i'm King: yeah King: i just need a minute King: phew King: my heart is racing

Barker: how is this possible? Barker: Stephen king - master of the macabre! - scared of fat people! King: look, it's not that strange King: a lot of people are scared of fat people Barker: Barker: no i don't think that's true Barker: think this is a you thing, steve

King: well, think about it King: if you see a clown walking around outside of a circus, that would be pretty scary right? Barker: ok right King: now imagine if you saw a fat person walking around on the street, like it was normal or something-

King: it's just not healthy, you see King: that's why scientists invented the weight loss pill that makes you shit yourself to death from Meg Elison's story "Please Don't Invent the Weight Loss Pill that Makes You Shit Yourself to Death" Meg Elison: Elison: I am going to murder you

Longmore: so the feeder has a whole facility full of women that he feeds Longmore: until they gain weight Longmore: they're called gainers Longmore: stop me if i'm going too fast for you

Longmore: ok so imagine a fat woman Longmore: just the fattest woman ever Longmore: just so huge beyond belief, absolutely gargantuan Longmore: like the size of the entire planet Longmore: like 464 pounds King: holy shit guys this is the scariest story I've ever heard! King: i am legit shaking!

Longmore: so this guy is feeding a fat woman a stack of pizzas Longmore: and the pizzas are all Longmore: [falsetto voice] heeeey you should eat us! we're delicious! Longmore: [falsetto] we're pizza! look at us! we want to be eaten! Longmore: [falsetto] we're gonna be so sad if you don't eat us Dean Koontz: oh no i hope the pizza gets eaten!

Joe Koch: this sucks Koch: the pizza should speak in an Italian accent Barker: yes Poe: no don't say that joe!! Lovecraft: oh jesus Lovecraft: oh god Lovecraft: [sweats] oh jesus

Koch: the disc of cracked dough, crimson gore as red as god's menstrual flow, hissing fleshy tentacles of mozzarella, pale as the broken spirals of the universe, splayed open in a tattered furl of the anal fistulas of sundried tomatoes Poe: oh max you should like this, you like pizza Max Booth III: why does everyone keep saying that

[moonlight-tmd]

Imagine if Bee was that "i know a guy" fella-

Sir, he has not been following rules since his sparklinghood, do you really expect me to believe he has not been on a crime spree with some gang or broke into some governor's place by accident- not following rules gets you places, and with Bee's silver glossa he can talk until he's at the higher position than the one who met him.

Bee has started a humble life as soon as he got drafted to boot camp but that does not mean he didn't have any contacts to spice things up. Some of the folks, employed or students, knew him from the time before- they got him stuff to pull all those pranks n such. I bet Sentinel himself remembers seeing this little slag on a report more than once when he was younger and that's why he doesn't like him.

Bee knows mostly 'Cons but also some shady Autobots- he has his ways with Swindle and Starscream and they consider him a decent mech ot share high grade with. Heck maybe even Megatron himself knows this little frag who's been messing in their magazines and never got caught- and once he did he sweet-talked his way out of it like a pro.

Bee is a master manipulator and he knows it. He's been thru and seen some shit, he knows how it'll all go. He has friends, allies, "enemies" and all that stuff. But none of them dare to kill nor hurt him. The only reason he stopped being a menace is because of Bulkhead- the mech was genuine and caring towards him, Bee didn't have a Spark to lie to him. That's what got him to change and not do as much trouble. (except with the Wasp fella- he was too hostile to be left unattended so Bee has crafted a well-suited lie from the rumours going around camp and Wasp got taken away.)

When he first joined Team Prime he recognized few of the folks, but when they found Prowl he knew instantly they were gonna have fun- the mech had quite a past that the shadier side of Cybertron knew really well. Although Bee had not expected what the mech really was like, he still had his fair share of fun with him.

Once they get on Earth and 'Con's show up tho- ooh that is gold. Bee has heard so much about each and every one of them and knew just the way to talk to them to get them to do what he wants.

It's so funny to watch them go about "fighting" Bee when in reality they are all his puppets that know they fuck up if they spill one word.

It's even funnier when Decepticons kidnaps the group one time and while the 'cons are telling their reports when Megs walks in to see who they brought he just stops and backs up a step to look at this tiny motherfragger all baffled for a solid 10 seconds before facepalming defeated while whispering to himself "Primus why".

The others just see this and look to Bee who has this shit-eating proud grin on his face and he's like "Well, hi Megan! How've you been?" Megatron just sighes and motions Lugnut to take this one to his quarters and he walks away with the "i am tired of this" expression. The next thing they know is that htey're being dumped out in the middle of nowhere and Bee gets gently put down after the ride and given the key to unlock his team's cuffs.

They are so baffled when he tells them the adventure he had once that led him to knowing Megatron- Megs doesn't reciprocate his friendship but Bee doesn't care, he knows Megs can't kill him, Bee has too much of a grip on his mentality to do so. He just prays to never see the mech ever again but sadly, the mech is living on the planet and helping the enemy after the same thing he's after.

What a sad day.

[thranduilsperkybutt]

☾ the gold & the rust ☼

Pic Sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings:  Astarion Ancunín/Tav!Reader Warnings:  NSFW; angst/comfort smut; yearning; Astarion is not ascended; mentions of past canon-typical trauma/abuse; the struggle of healing; Astarion has racing thoughts and you can't tell me otherwise; canon-typical biting; it's not about the sex it's about the feelings; spoilers for the endgame Word Count:  7,168 words Reader Gender:  Female Author:  Meg Summary:  You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again... A/N:  Look I blame Hozier for making too many Astarion-coded songs that make me sob my eyes out while thinking about the implications of his "good" ending. Astarion has literally changed my brain chemistry.

The sun cusps over the horizon, its soft tendrils spreading over a murky sky. Beckoning the night’s fleeing retreat with a gentle violence as the day demands more territory in each passing second. Sparse hues of blue manage to cling to some lingering clouds that have yet to meet the threateningly beautiful pink and orange sky.

Astarion reaches out from behind the heavy curtain and his darkness, towards the pillar of light that breaks into the privacy of your bedchamber. Pale fingertips dip hesitantly into the light, as if he could believe everything that has occurred over this past week has been only a dream. It takes but a moment for the evidence of his reality to meet him when his skin sparks and dusts under the light of day.

He flinches back, hissing lowly from the burning pain of it. Glaring down at his flexing hand as if the disdain in his eyes could change the fates that have turned the thread of his life into this ever-knotted thing. He’d never imagined he would miss having that damned illithid parasite in his head, yet here he was. Yearning to reach for morning again. Wishing to experience a dawn that may never welcome him again.

He hears the stirring moan, soft and drenched in exhaustion, and dares a glance away from his own skin and stinging regret. Stilling entirely, Astarion hopes he has not awoken you just yet. He does not wish for you to see him like this, in this state of self-pitiful detestation. Though he knows you may yet love him despite having seen it, showing the reality of his mind beyond his comfortable performances is easier said than done. Tension drips from his shoulders, if only a little bit, as he watches your body relax into the cushions with your blissfully ignorant slumber.

The sigh at his lips is shaky. Mournful. He looks back towards the sunlight and remembers how it had felt when it had forgotten how to punish him like this. He doesn’t know which is crueler: to have never felt it at all, or for it to be ripped away from him like this. In the brief time he was granted to finally walk in the sun again after the past two centuries, Astarion can’t help the fresh anger that bubbles up in him at the taking away of it. He didn’t deserve this--- any of it.

Truthfully, he has no clear memory of how the sun had felt to him when he was simply a mortal elf and not a spawn belonging to a master. It had been so long ago; memories fade over time when drenched in horror, he’s discovered well since. Still, something tells Astarion he loved the day even then as he did now. He’s certain he had always loved the heat of it--- the color.

The way it filters through your hair when you stand in the path of daylight, kissing the edges of your skin in a way he forever wished to share with it. It had been warmer and kinder to him than he had ever expected to receive, somewhat like you. You were undeniably beautiful in the light of day.

Even standing within the finality of the sunset of your journey together--- foes vanquished, coated in sweat and victory--- he had thought the same.

But nothing good ever lasts, he’s learned. At least, nothing but you. Astarion wonders if he would still grieve this much if he were to never have known the day at all. Would he know what he was missing? Would a piece of its cosmic heat have whispered of you to him, even then?

He can’t truly comprehend a world in which his fate had not become so intimately entangled with yours. Perhaps that is the worst part, how he knows he would always brave this feeling of loss to gain what he has with you. In the end of it all, he knows he has made the right choice to have this over the temptations of that infernal ritual’s power.

Despite that knowledge, Astarion truly hadn’t expected you to run after him when the lingering illithid protections dissipated from his being and the sun began its remorseless burning again. He had scampered away from the docks in an abject desperation, attempting to flee from the light’s betrayal. Astarion was the objectively faster party, but you had found him eventually--- you always seem to find him--- after he had taken to cowering behind wooden crates that cast a meager shadow of solace. He had been shaking, cradling himself, closed off entirely from the world as that sickeningly familiar taste of how things had been before--- back when he was still Cazador’s--- came flooding back onto his palate. His mind had become drenched in a fear he had thought could never claim him again.

You’d cut through all of it with your worried call of his name. Plunging him into the magical darkness you cast upon the both of you to shield him from the sun’s assault with such a thoroughness that not even you could see through it. His call of your own name sounded far too broken on his tongue for his own liking, but you’d followed the sound towards his outstretched arms all the same.

Dragging him up into yours, only a sliver of the calamity in his soul dissipated when you promised him blindly, “Come, quickly, I’ll get you someplace safe.”

Despite his better efforts, his voice shook as he allowed you to clumsily drape your cloak over his curls in darkness, unable to bring the deflecting humor to his voice that he so achingly wished would return, “Darling, you are a sight for sore eyes; or, you would be, I’m sure, if I could see you.”

“I told you this would come in handy,” you shot back, and he had been grateful for your effort at ignoring the bittersweet grief that so clearly drenched his soul in favor of reminding him of how he had teased you for spending a good amount of your gold on this very cloak when you’d all first arrived in the city.

His breath remained shallow, but his hand tightened over yours in what he hoped you knew was gratefulness when you finished ensuring the fabric had covered any of his exposed skin, “I shall never question any of your purchases again, on my honour.”

“Of course you will, Astarion,” he heard the slight worry in your voice as much as you tried to hide it. He felt the spell waning and with it the returning disorientation that even slight sunlight left him in. You had grasped his arm firmly and spoken with a confident determination that he suspected was as much for your comfort as it was for his, “Now, get ready to move quickly and keep your head down; the dark won’t last much longer.”

You were good for your promises, he’d learned over his time travelling with you, and that had brought some small comfort as the day reemerged before he’d had a chance to respond. Then, you were maneuvering him through the city, towards the darkness of Sharess’ Caress, with such a precision that he might think it more important than any quest you’ve had thus far if he hadn’t known better. Gripping him tightly the whole way, Astarion still has not dared tell you how grateful he was for it--- for you, surprising him against his better judgement every time with how you simply are.

It has been nearly a week now of you coming to his side in the night and yet some part of him still expected the other metaphorical shoe to drop. For you to come to your senses and tell him that you simply cannot carry on like this with him.

He wanted to believe you. Gods, how he wants it. Yet, he still felt like a fool to think he’s earned some love such as yours. He wants to believe he deserves the way you look at him like he can be what you see him to be. It’s too dangerous for his heart to invest in the thought that he maybe can. That maybe he is, already.

For you to look at him and tell him, “We’ll find it together. I promise we’ll find a way for you to walk in the sun again,” with such determination--- for you to be someone who genuinely believed the both of you could achieve it---

Well, you simply must be mad. He doesn’t know how else to explain these little ideas of yours.

Astarion figures you’ll continue to be as much a surprise to him as you’ve made a habit of in the past… and then there was that persistently annoying optimism of yours to contend with.

But this?

He doesn’t think that you understand the truth of the choice you’re making, to stay with him. To love him. How could you know it and still look upon him with such eager hopefulness as you do? He barely understands it at all himself, and he’s had centuries to come to terms with what he’s become. Forgive him if it’s a bit difficult to begin to understand just what “being something better than what Cazador made him” truly means.

He understands how much he wants you, though. He wants it all. The life that was stolen from him, the opportunities, but mostly for you to be there--- here. Where you’ve not wavered an inch from his side; you’ve given him no reason to think you plan on leaving anytime soon.

Why does he still fear it so much, though?

Some part of him had thought--- hoped foolishly, rather--- that killing Cazador would somehow fix two centuries of torment. Fix him. In the brief time after, he discovered that it hadn’t. In his elongated struggle, he worries it never will.

Nightmares still plague him, he still jumps at shadows, he still has thoughtless fear dart through his mind before he remembers again that his former master is well and truly dead. That simply existing in happiness was the rebellious proof of his victory over a man who he hopes will not haunt him forever. When he is with you, Astarion almost believes that Cazador won’t. It is some charm you have bewitched over him surely. Your ability to calm this chaos in him with soft eyes and patient hands that do not seek to own him, yet he eagerly chooses to belong there all the same.

Astarion still has trouble loving you like he knows you deserve to be loved. There are times when he can barely stand physical touch, though craves to want yours. And you understand the duality of the contradiction in him, taking only ever what he is willing to give.

Sometimes he thinks you too understanding, with little concern of how this affects you. He’s always baffled by how selfless you can be sometimes, particularly when you’re taking in strays. He has come to admit, if only to himself, that he does see the irony in his complaints. Moreso, he’s terrified of what will happen when that seemingly endless well of care you hold within you for others inevitably runs out.

What will happen when you can no longer bear his eccentricities? The compromises? The sacrifice that his double-edged love requires of you? Will there come a time when all he offers as part of being in this real love becomes too overwhelming?

Astarion had fallen in love with you in the easy warmth of sunlight. Looking upon you now as the dawn creeps against your sleeping form, his heart aches as he wonders if he can truly doom you to a life in his complicated darkness.

Selfishly, one thought consumes his mind--- he knows he wants to. He would want you, no matter the cost to you both. You have told him over and over again how you want the same but, Gods, he can’t figure out what he has done for this sliver of joy and it eats away at him in the dark. It’s unreasonable what he asks you to give him, but he’ll take it all the same. Bitterly he thinks, if he were a better man--- the man you see him to be--- he might even feel guilty for it.

For now, all he feels is the monstrous need to escape these racing thoughts in his head.

When will you walk away to join the sunlight for good? Hells forbid the answer his weary heart is preparing for ever be spoken from your lips.

Astarion hopes the day never comes when you choose to go where he cannot follow. He wants to spend all his days traipsing after you, wherever you may lead, no matter how much he may complain about it for show.

Astarion wants to spend all of it, whatever it may be, whatever he’s got left, with you. He’s terrified of the day that you change your mind on him. Fearful that you may one day decide these sleepless nights with a vampire spawn who can offer you nothing more than his undying love and sarcastic quips are nothing compared to the full life you could have with someone else. This theoretical, easy life in the sun that he dares to think he is stealing from you by loving you as he does.

Well, he supposes that reclaiming Cazador’s palace is always an option, rather than his other fantasy of burning it to the ground. Spending an eternity draping you in finery and keeping you to himself within a palace feels like something he should want, but he can’t help to think that it would be no better than making his love for you into a somewhat prettier cage.

More than he wants you, he needs you to freely want him. He’d be tempted to take up praying again if he had any faith that it could solidify your love for him forever, but deep down he doesn’t want heavenly intervention. He wants you to want to be with him--- to choose him willingly and without any regret for what the inevitable sacrifice will be. That understanding is, perhaps, what makes his heart swell with this bittersweet glory over all else.

You’ve told him as much and what your lips did not confess to him willingly, your body has whispered to his with an adoration that threatened to scorch him in much the same way of your beloved daylight. You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again--- this being the most horrible realization of all to have come to him tonight.

Hells, how desperately he wants to believe you, but Astarion has always had difficulty getting his hopes up. He hasn’t been known to bet on losing dogs, and he certainly doesn’t bet on his own odds these days.

But he figures you have more than enough hope for the both of you.

A minute smile quirks his troubled lips at that thought, watching your fingers twitch in your slumber. He shouldn’t doubt you as he does; you’ve given him everything. His freedom, his salvation--- even from himself, when he hadn’t known how much he needed it. Things he can never repay, and yet you’ve never asked him for a repayment. He owes you everything, but you’ve been adamant in tempering his sense of obligation. You’ve reminded him that everything he's done, he’s chosen for himself.

You’ve only ever asked him to love you, and that you have had for far longer than you know--- far before you ever actually plucked up the adorable courage to ask him for it.

He has come to love you more than he’s ever loved anything for as far back as he can remember. The depths of his adoration could scare even him with the raw vulnerability he is left with when it comes to you. How beautifully all his plans and plots for self-preservation have backfired upon him, though. He would not have you destroy his peace of mind in any other way.

Maybe one day, he’ll admit to you exactly when his nice, simple plan truly began to fall apart. The idea dances in his mind, of how you’ll react to that particular information. You’d hang on his every word, he thinks--- it would be rather pathetic of you, if he weren’t in much the same state.

Gripping the curtain, Astarion finally deems it time to push the budding light out of his darkness. If it is to be the only place he may have you for all of your days, he’ll make his darkness a sacred place. He decides he shall worship you in it--- all other gods have forsaken him already. Until the day his little hero saves him once again, he will indulge in this darkness with you.

The patriars nipping at your heels for guidance, the unwashed masses of the Gate clamoring for their glimpse of his hero, even your other traveling companions--- none of them shall invade upon this sanctuary.

He moves towards the bed, returning to you. Exhausted from a late day in the city and an even later night of enjoying his company, you’ve taken to claiming sleep when you can these days. The evidence of your labor rests in the dark circles under your eyes. He doesn’t think he could stop you from your philanthropic efforts assisting the city’s reconstruction even if he tried.

Still, right now, in these hours you are only his.

He dips his weight onto the bed and lays himself alongside you, pulling you tenderly against him as his lips graze your neck. Truly, he knows it is cruel to wake you, but he doesn’t know how he can manage to miss someone like this when you are right before him. It is as if his very soul yearns for you. He melts against the rhythmic flutter of your heart, and it sounds more like his home than the palace he has spent the last two hundred years in ever could.

Teeth graze against your carotid pulse, and you stir slightly. He hums into the soft warmth of your flesh, biting without intent to draw blood--- though the thought of it does cross his mind. He has never recovered from the taste of you. Cold fingers curl into your bare hip, dragging you slightly closer at the feeling of your waking movements.

Your pulse picks up against his lips. Astarion hears the patter of your heart in your ribs as his tongue drags up your throat towards your ear. Your breath hitches when his lips graze your jaw, but your eyes remain closed.

His lips twitch with mirth at your effort to have him do as he pleases.

“Quite the show, my little love, but I know you’re awake,” Astarion murmurs, slurred from the back of his throat like a man lost in thorough indulgence. Drunk with the scent of you on his skin, he leaves another faux bite on your jaw as you squirm beneath his assault.

“Shall you feed again, is that it?” yawning, your hand rubs at your eyes before you blink them open. When his hands run up your sides, your answering shiver reminds him of that first night he’d fed from you. Lit only by the campfire, you had allowed him to take too much before stopping him, even then.

He chuckles breathlessly, shifting the covers to invade your space more completely as you come back to your consciousness piece by piece, “As tempting as it is when you offer oh so nicely to be my treat, I hunger for something more satisfying this morn.”

“Ah,” you gasp from sleep-drenched shock, reacting on a delay as he brings his knee up to strategically push your legs open. Allowing you to feel the growing length of him through the thin linens between you, he levels you with his weight in a slow grind. Blinking up at him, your eyes focus in a darkness lit only by the dim glow of dawn beyond the curtains when he languidly rolls his hips against yours, “A-Astarion---!” He is watching you peculiarly, with a glint of some unreadable darkness in his eye that you can’t quite place. The breathless whimper at your lips sends that warmth of yours straight down his spine, “What’s gotten into you?”

He hasn’t had you since that night he had been so drenched with adoration that he’d taken you on his own grave and truly confessed how he loved you. Ever since then it had been battle and struggle, one after another, in your pursuit to stop the Absolute for good--- constantly ensnared in some new concern that stole any potential moment he could’ve used to steal you away from duty. After the final battle, Astarion had been so dejected by the return of his vampiric limitations, and you had been near constantly pulled away to assist the public---

There was the part of him that enjoyed indulging in the easy-going intimacy you offered him. The lack of pressure to perform was something he had not yet fully become accustomed to; a certain comfortability that has been cultivated between the two of you over the time you’ve been together. The sense of knowing that he is well and truly safe with you. Despite this understanding, he wished to freely want you in every way he was capable of.

And, oh, how he has come to want you over these last few days.

It was so mindlessly simple and immensely complex. He can barely put into words to describe the ways he wants this. Carnally, intimately, wholly, eternally--- nothing is a sufficient descriptor. Maybe in that vast library that your wizard, Gale, insists on boasting about showing him one of these days, Astarion will find an all-encompassing word for how he wants to have you forever.

As it stands currently, he settles on the comfortable seduction that has become second nature to him, “Actually, I was quite hoping to have gotten into you by now, lover.”

He’ll never get over how you melt for him; how you fall for every word. He watches the heat he stokes behind your eyes, the flex of your fingertips where they lay beside your head on the pillow.

Then, he descends upon you.

A practiced mouth parts yours as his cool hand takes the long route from your waist to your throat, indulging in the feeling of everything in-between. He sets your skin on edge in his wake, stirring a familiar feeling that he was entirely too good at urging from you to settle low in your stomach.

Gentle fingers find his hair and he feels the scrape of your nails against his scalp when he finally rests his hand on your throat to hook his thumb beneath your jaw, kissing you deeper. Passionately. As he always does, Astarion excels at unravelling you in every way, but you have no idea how much you manage to rebuild him with your every touch.

Your body welcomes him completely, urging him closer in ways he doubts you are consciously aware of. His hips rock into yours with each passing second that your heat spreads through him, feeling himself grow harder at your soft moans that meet his eager mouth. When you tug slightly at his hair, he lets a cautioning sound fall from his tongue onto yours, but you only nip defiant teeth at him in response.

And then he’s pushing your hands down, captured at the wrists by his. Pinning you to the pillows while he draws back just enough to catch the breath that is coming, labored, from the both of you.

“I’m sorr---” you begin, remorselessly.

“Telling a pretty lie won’t save you from me,” Astarion leans close once more, dragging his skin against your cheek as he kisses a trail towards your ear, feeling you test his grip at your wrists with a half-hearted tug. “I do believe all of this ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ business has kept you from the more important happenings of our bedchamber. It would be a terrible pity if you continued to neglect your baser desires when I am in such a mood to indulge you.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about me?” you tease and he feigns a mild shock at the insinuation that his own behavior is the reason you’ve yet to bed him.

“I’ll have you know I am all indulgence, unlike you, darling hero,” but when he leans away, your eyes capture his. Reading him too easily, you know something is wrong as his carefully constructed mask falters, if only for an instant. It’s all you need, and Astarion regrets losing himself for the moment as he watches your softening gaze survey him.

“Is that so…?” You’re left guessing at what troubles him, “If you missed me, you could’ve just said so. The city can survive a few days.”

“Does the city know that?” it would be so easy to leave it there, to let you think you’ve figured him out once again. The anxiety in his veins won’t allow it, however, and his mouth speaks before his mind can instruct him to shut up, “Tell me, darling, that you won’t regret it someday… Of course, you won’t--- but I would like to hear it all the same.”

He looks down on you with growing vulnerability, confidence cracking. That detestable anxiety that has plagued him all evening coming to the forefront of his mind once more. Crimson irises swirl with a reckless uncertainty and it reminds you of how he had looked upon you when confessing his initial manipulations in those early days of your relationship.

“Regret what?” the confusion on your face nearly has him losing his nerve, but he chokes back the urge to dismiss you so quickly.

“I don’t want you to regret… choosing me,” his voice is clearly pained at the thought, cold hands at your wrists tightening like he is afraid you will run from him should he let you go. “Choosing us, I mean. I am well aware of all you shall endure if you spend each painstaking night of forever with me. It is a price I was willing to pay for my freedom, but you… I--- I know you have said that I am what you want, but I don’t want this to be one of your regrets. I don’t want you to resent me for keeping you here---”

Astarion was constantly preparing himself for the ending of all things; it is a part of his nature that you wish you could soothe with simple words alone. It will be much more difficult to satisfy than that and you know it, but you intend to spend all your years working towards earning his unwavering faith in you. This trust that he has so endearingly placed upon your soul, when every piece of his own screamed at you for doing the same. You doubt he knows how, if you were to someday break him in the way he so fears, you feel it would be as if you were destroying a part of yourself.

You cut off his rambling with a firm, “Astarion!” like it hurts you to hear him talk of himself in this way. His mouth snaps shut as you search him for the cause of this doubt, “Have I done something to make you think I will have these regrets you worry of?”

“Well, no, but---”

When you pull at his grip this time, he wordlessly releases you, only for you to reach up to him to drag him down into a tight embrace, “Then, why is your heart so troubled?”

“I---” he chokes on the word and how shallowly his lungs fill with you holding him so securely in your arms. Maybe it is better that you hold him so closely that you cannot see how he crumbles against you, dissolving into your grasp as if you are the only thing holding him together when he confesses, “I know what it is to live this life of darkness. You are so---! You deserve everything I can’t give you, starting with a life surrounded by the beauties of daylight.” His head turns, misty eyes catching your worried stare. He regrets the distress he’s caused you, but moreso he needs to hear your reassurances that his mind has gotten the better of him in this. He has never hoped so pitifully that he was wrong.

“Astarion,” heart swelling at the loss in his eyes; he looks to be mourning for you. As your thumb smoothes along the lines of his jaw, you come to realize the depth of his lingering sadness, “tell me, what good is the sun? The sun cannot care for me as you do or feel my love in return. A life of pure sunlight is worthless if it means living it without you.” You watch his breath catch in his chest, a stifled sob of his relief that he does not give into so easily.

His voice comes strained and nearly sounds like he’s on the verge of arguing with you, “You so obviously will miss it! You talk of finding a way for me to ‘walk in the sun again,’ but what if it’s impossible? What if we waste our lives searching for something that was never attainable? When you realize it, I wouldn’t have you look differently upon me.”

“Is that it? You think I talk about finding you a cure for my own benefit?” you scoff, before leaning towards him to place a soft kiss against frowning lips. He lingers in the middle ground as you depart just enough to demand he listen, “I only think of you, Astarion. Since the moment I first saw you, you’ve consumed my mind, body and soul. The sun was made for you--- and you’d know it if you ever had the privilege of seeing yourself in it. I only want for you to be happy.”

The arch of his brow tells you he still doesn’t fully believe you, despite his attempt at a half-hearted joke through the tightness in his throat, “I do quite enjoy when you call me beautiful.” It’s more than that, and you both know it, but if he were to ask you right now to name one thing about the light of day that you know you will sorely miss, it would be never seeing him in it again.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh at him with a lopsided smile, “Oh, my silly vampire, I love you much more than the sun. Without you, I would not want any of it. In fact, you can take the moon and stars, too, while you’re at it---”

He cuts you off with the eclipse of his mouth on yours, hands spread along your ribs to dig eager fingertips into your skin as he pulls you in as close as he can manage. The kiss is more languidly meaningful than the last; he intends on burning the feeling of you into his mind to replace the torrid thoughts there. If your words had not been enough to convince him, you hope the way you receive his body with your own can. Every part of you calls to him, blood and sinew, breath and bone, flesh and spirit.

Maybe it’s clear to him now, that you are as intertwined as the earth and sea. Should the tide of your soul ever depart from his shores, he can rest in the knowledge that your reunion is inevitable. As far as you are concerned, you are fated in such a way that not even the gods above or the devils below can alter the course of how your body fits beneath his--- how you shall always welcome him home.

You will have him, for as long as he will have you.

When he finally withdraws, he dares not go far, eyes blinking open slowly in a melancholy acceptance, “How can I be so fortunate?”

Brushing the mess of white curls behind his pointed ear, you hum at the shiver that runs through him when your fingertips graze the skin there, “I don’t know, but it’s about time things start going our way, don’t you think?”

“That it is,” his groaned agreement softens the worry in his eyes and he melts into the stroke of your hand against his temple.

“What you should be worrying about, Astarion, is whether you’ll regret choosing me when I’m all old, wrinkled, and grey,” it’s only half of a tease, and you hope he can’t see through the smile on your lips. The thought has been on your mind for some time after realizing that the two of you were going to somehow survive everything you’ve endured these past months.

“Darling,” he scoffs, nudging his nose with yours, soothing you as much as you do him, “knowing how well trouble finds you, we’ll both be long dead before either of us need worry much about that.” His lips graze yours, when he gives you his earnest answer, “For our sake, I hope to spend every moment we have left with you, watching every sunset and sunrise we are granted until the end takes us both.”

It's more complicated than that, but most real things usually are.

What isn’t complicated is how you feel beneath him, tongue tracing his teeth as he ravishes you. There is a completeness that comes in the way of his body fitting against yours. This reassurance in your touch will never falter. Even if your mind were to eventually escape you, he will know you were always his. If the world were to fall away in this moment and leave nothing but this room, Astarion would happily float out his days with you here forevermore.

He loves you. You love him.

He can scarcely comprehend anything else. Nothing else matters, he decides.

Nothing but your little shivers and whines when his fingers delve down the soft flesh of your stomach--- nothing but the arch of your body into the exploration of his touch. Nothing is worth more than his name whispered from your lips in that scandalous tone you reserve for these moments he sets your skin ablaze with teeth and tongue. You call to him like it were a prayer, but Astarion has hardly done anything so holy to warrant the way you say his name.

His sole inkling of faith is spent on the belief that he could live his whole life, his extended eternity, and never tire of loving you.

Soft and demanding partner within the thrill of his touch, you’ve learned, and his hands part you for him with that comforting understanding. Insistent and hesitant are your finger’s answer to him, digging into the nape of his neck as your head falls back against the pillows. Throat bared, it’s a wonder he doesn’t take another bite of you where he’s done so frequently before, but his attention is too acutely focused on the aching wetness between your thighs and his slender fingers.

Your lips part in an open moan of his name with how expertly he drags pleasure through your veins with each stroke within you, and he drags his teeth against your jaw in a growl, “You sweet, generous thing, always so ready for me.” Finally, he grants you some relief from his constant teasing, pressing the heel of his palm into your most sensitive nub. He allows you to seek your own pleasure with each desperate grind of yourself against the hand that continues to stroke pleasure from within, “Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me? How dearly I long for us to never leave this bed?” The rasp of his voice has heat rushing up your spine, muddying your thoughts with each continuance of his lascivious tongue, “Leave the Gate to fend for itself, my dear, for I should have you like this always, stripped bare with me between your thighs.”

“Have me then, Astarion,” you really did purr for him in times like these and as much as he enjoys teasing you for it, he truly does relish the tone you get when he has drenched you in lust. His reaction at your words is groaned against your throat; he’s so near, but his hand retreats from you all the same. Never to neglect you for long, your lover is soon tearing at your smallclothes with an impatience that was not wholly unexpected from him.

He pushes his weight onto his forearm beside your head, using his other hand to tug at the laces of his loose breeches while glancing down between you. His eyes, rubies in the darkness, snap to yours and it is as if he has dipped you in firewine and struck a match. You burn for him, from the inside out and in such a way that you know he has thoroughly ruined you for anyone else. You are dripping with it, onto the sheets and the new press of his length against your core. His indulgent rub of himself through your folds is punctuated by him grinding into you, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling for but a moment.

Hair disheveled, you watch the beauty of him as he swallows deeply before capturing you in that piercing gaze once again, “I think I shall have you, now--- how did you just put it?” He crowds you with his arms, and your breath hitches at the feeling of him catching at your entrance when he murmurs lowly, deliberately, “Body and soul? Isn’t that right, my love?”

The way you drag him down into your kiss as he pushes into you is a messy, desperate thing, but it only seems to urge him on. You simply cannot seem to get close enough, though not for lack of trying, as he fills you gloriously. Astarion gasps into your mouth, staggering the push of his hips against yours, devouring you until he is left seated so deeply within you that you can hardly breathe. Then, hands around your thighs push your legs up, and he fits impossibly further.

You sob a moan against sharp fangs, deliriously full of him as he begins a slow fucking that is just enough to drive you into madness. Clambering for something to ground yourself, your nails dig into his back, scraping against the scars that remain there--- his hips snapping faster into you at the feeling of it.

He smears saliva across your jaw and down your throat, understanding your breathless, “Please, please,” for what it is. Permission.

Pain is so fleetingly brief that it may as well not exist at all, because when he bites down hard enough to draw blood from your skin, you are met so suddenly with a lightheaded ecstasy that is compounded by the pleasure he pulses through your body. Only the raw stretch of his every thrust keeps you from dissipating into delirium entirely. You are left keening beneath him as he dissolves into the taste of your blood, feeling his moans against your neck and the way his thrusts begin to match the drum of your heart in your ears. Astarion’s fingers drag in the space between, stopping only when he has found the base of his seat within you.

You feel your heart skip in your chest before he ceases the meal he’s made of you, licking your throat of the sloppy blood that threatens to yet spill. The iron of it meets the smell of sex in the air and he strokes his fingers against where he continuously plunges so deep within you; the wet sounds of your coupling may have been embarrassing if you weren’t so disoriented with the raw need of it. Your every nerve has fiercer concerns than your fickle dignity when he is working to make such a wonderful mess of you as this.

“Delicious,” Astarion groans into your shoulder, nipping and groaning against whatever he may get his mouth on as he feels your increasingly erratic clenching with his harshening pace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling him reach to draw tight circles at your clit as his own pace begins to falter. Neither of you will make it much further through this. He is left stained, begging upon your skin, “Come with me--- Hells, darling--- I need you to---"

Finding a grip in his hair allows you to drag his head sharply back to force his open-mouthed gaze to cast upon you once more, desperate to see him as he falls apart with you.

The sight of him is nearly enough for you to lose what little sense you’ve held to; while his complexion has turned slightly rosy with the assistance of your fresh blood, he still looks upon you with a consuming hunger all the same, “I love you.”

“Gods---!” dark eyes slam shut as he gasps out your name before all control leaves him in the mindless oblivion that he drags you down into alongside him. Scorching pleasure burns from the inside out as he loses himself in the trembling heat of your rapture, dissolving into a wild and erratic pace that bursts sparks of euphoria behind your eyes.

You are both left in the sticky aftermath of it, heaving mingling breaths as tension melts into you from where he collapses and lingers atop you. You hold him, content to have his softening length seated within you for all eternity as you let him continue his mindless caressing of your skin.

He has said it before, but it will never be enough, so he says it again in the hoarse aftermath of your lovemaking, “I love you, darling. You have made me so… happy.” Should you ever forget it, he is prepared to remind you for the rest of your days, “Thank you.”

Your own repeated declaration is sighed with a contentment that you hope will last a moment longer as your fingers take to stroking through his hair when he lays his head against your chest. Can he hear it from there, you wonder, how your heart whispers only the sweetest of sentiments for him? You like to think he can.

“Astarion?” you finally croak after some time, and he hums soft acknowledgement without much movement. “We should watch the next one together.”

“The next what, my treasure?”

“The next sunrise.”

There is a smile in his voice when he murmurs, “Always.”

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 4 | Mutual Pining

Open Mic Night | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: General Word Count: 1,357 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe Summary: Cas works at a bookstore. Dean wants to impress him.

Ladies' Night | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,519 Main Tags/Warnings: Wayward Sisters, Truth Spells, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, First Kiss Summary: Dean comes to Ladies' Night at Jody's, and the ladies put him through the ringer.

The Rainbow Confection | @brainfuzz

Rating: General Word Count: 3,231 Main Tags/Warnings: Homophobic language, no warnings apply Summary: Where Dean owns a LGBT+ friendly coffee shop/café and Castiel is oblivious.

Thy Name is Dumbassery | @spnisthewayoflife

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,314 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Implied Meg Masters/Castiel - Freeform, Dean is JEALOUS, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Idiots in Love, Dumbasses, the pair of them, Sassy Meg Masters, Meg Masters Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Pining, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean and Castiel aren't aware that they have been pining after each other for years and that their mutual feelings have remained unspoken. Until Castiel starts avoiding Dean and Dean realizes that he can't imagine his life without Castiel in it. Will they ever tell each other that they are head over heels in love?

Grumpy Angel and the cat (feat.Dean) | @destiel-pirate-in-middleearth

Rating: General Word Count: 6,130 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Sam ships it, Love confession Summary: Dean is getting silent treatment from Castiel because he won't allow Castiel to take a poor abandoned cat home with them because that's the hunter's rule. No pets in the bunkers and for starters Dean hates cats. It's not that he's jealous of that cat getting all of Castiel's affection which he longs for but he hates that monster cat with a stupid face. Or The one where Sam is just done with everyday’s bullshit because his brother is getting a silent treatment from the angel again.

Wings to Dancs | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12,621 Main Tags/Warnings: Normal Human AU, Dancer Cas, past homelessness, minor internally homophobia, implied top Dean/bottom Cas (no smut) Summary: A night of awkward conversations, humiliating moments, and halfhearted attempts at trying to learn to dance for his brother's wedding take a surprising turn for the better for Dean when he realizes he accidentally locked himself out of his car. He and Castiel, the dance instructor he's admired from afar for so long, end up bonding over buried memories of past pain and find themselves dancing towards a brighter future together.

Why did the chicken cross the road? | @whichstiel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 15,007 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate universe - canon divergence, Chickens, South Dakota Summary: Castiel raises show chickens on a small farm, alone after the death of his benefactor and friend. A runaway chicken leads him across the road to Winchester Auto Repair where he must contend with the easy charm of Dean Winchester. A canon divergent story set in rural South Dakota.

Scent-Blind | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,194 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Paramedic Dean, Temporary Anosmia, Slight Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: An accident has left Castiel without a sense of smell. In order to test whether his ability to scent is coming back, he has to regularly (try to) scent an alpha. Just like anything else, paramedic Dean Winchester doesn’t smell like anything to him. Until...

Proverbs 13:12 | @angelcasendgame

Rating: General Word Count: 16,298 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends deancas, stuck in a net, angel cas Summary: “A human and his angel get caught in a net,” Dean says dryly, not seeming to notice how completely still Castiel has gone. “Sounds like a set up to a bad joke. Or a Bible story.” “I can assure you, Dean,” he manages to say, trying desperately not to fixate on Dean's words. “This has never happened in the Bible.” (feat. autumn longing and hope, a game of I spy, hozier and led zepplin, mentions of the mixtape, and most importantly, dean and cas being best friends and helplessly in love with each other)

A Mature Student | @startswitheff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,939 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel is Seriously Depraved, College | University Student Dean Winchester, Dirty Thoughts, Masturbation in Shower, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Date, Castiel is a hot mess, First Date, sex on the first date, silver foxes, top!Castiel, bottom!Dean Winchester Summary: Prof. Castiel Novak does not know how to handle the smokin' hot silver fox in his Intro to American History class.

Maybe Next Time | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 37,134 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern!AU, Musician Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel, Meet-Cute, Idiots in Love Summary: Dean Winchester agreed to sing at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding for the sole purpose of getting revenge on her for cheating on him. He never expected that he would meet anyone, let alone a man with beautiful blue eyes that Dean can’t stop thinking about. Castiel Novak agreed to attend his colleague’s wedding solely for the networking opportunities. He never expected that he would be instantly captivated by the beautiful singer of the wedding band. Despite being inexplicably drawn together, every time they run into each other they’re interrupted by Dean’s phone. Or Dean’s ex. If she even is his ex. Maybe next time they meet, Dean and Castiel will finally overcome the obstacles that the universe keeps throwing in their path, and find the happiness they didn’t even know they were looking for.

The Very Touch of You Corrupts (WIP) | @labgeek2002

Rating: Mature Word Count: 78,707 Main Tags/Warnings: AU, Detective!Cas, Criminal!Dean, internalized homophobia, implied child abuse Summary: While closing up the biggest career in Detective Castiel Novak's life, bringing down Chicago's notorious Lunguino crime family, everything gets put on hold when he catches Dean Winchester, his childhood crush, breaking the law. Soon after he snaps the cuffs on Dean, Cas' world is turned inside out as he's led down the dark path of organized crime and police corruption. With no one he can trust, will Cas learn to rely on the man who once brought comfort and protection, or will he find betrayal around every corner?

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: coffee shop au, flower shop au, language of flowers, Deaf!Castiel, American Sign Language, Deaf Characters, bottom Dean/top Castiel, bottom Castiel/top Dean, mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, hurt Dean, hurt and comfort, miscommunication Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

[mychlapci]

I've had a scenario in my head for tfa Optimus for a while.

Optimus - for some reason or another, either before, during, or after canon - ends up in Decepticon custody. I've been reading fics like "House Divided", "The Silver Lining", "Can't Survive With you, Can't Survive Without You", "Of Gutters and Galaxies", "Exorcise My Mind", and "Return Me To The Stars". All stories in which Optimus, in one way or another - whether it be stabbed in the back by Sentinel ... literally ("Return Me To The Stars") or Kidnapped and forced to learn how to properly care for himself, gain self-confidence, and work through his Autobot inflicted trauma through kinky, master/slave, sexual roleplay ("Exorcise My Mind") - he ends up in Megatron's care.

Consider that some Fic Recs for ya.

EITHER WAY! My point being, Optimus in the care of Megatron. BUT!

They both end up pregnant at the same time.

Like, the two somehow their way into a relationship that the Autobots are either completely oblivious to or know full well of but are powerless to prevent, and they have Spectacular Sex. So Spectacular in fact, it gets them pregnant.

Imagine, Optimus and Megatron lounging on Meg's massive throne - easily big enough to fit them both, clearly a love seat - Oppy tucked into Meg's side, abdominal plating and chest plate discarded showing off a big swollen belly full of bitties and full, leaky titties. Legs spread just enough to show off his bare array stuffed full to the brim and drenched in transfluid and lubricant. He's dozing lightly, cuddled against Megatron who similarly has his plating removed and array bared. Though his belly, while swollen, isn't as large as Optimus due to the size difference but those Boobs (UGH gimme). His array is also drenched, but it's mostly his massive spike (more than half the size of Optimus' thigh) laying against his belly angled to show that Optimus had only just pulled himself off, his valve however is dribbling with transfluid buts still certainly glistening with lubricant. They've both softly drifted off into a sleepy haze, nodding off and so out of it that they didn't notice the doors to the throne room opening.

Oops, they forgot that peace meeting was today.

Well if the Autobots didn't know about them before, they certainly do now!

hgrhrhh... tfa Optimus and Megatron knocking each other up, oh lord, that's good. The two of them, having lazy sex on the throne, filling each other up until they're exhausted.

I can just imagine their pregnant bumps rubbing up against each other as Optimus rides Megatron's juicy spike... Once he's overloaded, he pulls the spike out of his twitching valve and curls up besides Megatron.... Megs grabs him and rubs his belly, as his spike depressurizes, feeling so full and comfortable with his little autobot at his side... mhmm The two of them getting caught lounging around, high command bursting in for a peace talk that Megatron swears was supposed to happen tomorrow. They get a very detailed view of both their arrays before Megatron remembers to cover up his, pulling Optimus in so that he's at least somewhat modest.

[rayssion]

Guys, guys!!

Imagine like 4000 years later where human civilization developed or retreated I don't care it's not necessary.

Imagine if all sources of greek mythology vanished or died with the years, and as much as we depend on Homer's Iliad and Odyssey now people on the future find PERCY JACKSON and the other Rick Riordan serieses as the only source of mythological knowledge!!

They'd read the books and imagine that those are the gods we believe in now and they'd think that Percy and the other demigods are real,

And couple of millennia later, Rick Riordan's books were destroyed or lost so people only told the stories verbally for centuries,

And as stories go they got deformed!! Imagine people after so so many years thinking Percy and the other demigods are like super super heroes whom are like much stronger than your local demigods yet still below gods, and then further deformation happens!!

And people start to think that the demigods are the gods!!

Now please, imagine.... imagine!

Percy, god of the sea, water, storms, hurricanes, earthquakes and horses. (I can see him becoming the new king of the gods btw)

Jason, god of the sky, lightning and thunder, law and order.

Nico, god of death, shadows, ghosts and spirits. King of the underworld.

Annabeth, goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and warfare.

Piper, goddess of love, pleasure, passion, procreation, fertility, beauty and desire.

Frank, god of war, violence, bloodshed and manly virtues.

Leo, god of fire, master blacksmith and craftsman of the gods; god of the forge, craftsmanship, invention and volcanoes.

Will, god of the sun, of light, prophecy, philosophy, archery, truth, inspiration, poetry, music, arts, manly beauty, medicine, healing, and plague.

Thalia, goddess of the hunt. the wilderness, virginity, the Moon, archery, childbirth, protection and plague.

And I'd like to add!!

Dakota, god of wine, the grapevine, fertility, festivity, ecstasy, madness and resurrection

Rachel, goddess of family and marriage, women and childbirth.

Hazel, goddess of earth and riches. Princess of the underworld and younger sister of Nico, King of the underworld.

Conner, god of traps, diplomacy, thieves, games and the guide of dead souls.

Travis, messenger of the gods; god of travel, commerce, communication, borders and eloquence.

Meg, Goddess of the harvest, fertility, agriculture, nature and the seasons.

Reyna, Goddess of the hearth, fire and of the right ordering of domesticity and the family, and also goddess of war.

Yes, they have 16 gods!!

I don't know what to name them but it has to be a cool name, like we got the Titans and the Olympians so it has to be cool.

Also imagine if like the Olympian gods we have now being translated to future generations as the bad guys (like how we have Kronos and Gaea now) and like the demigods gods (cuz I still don't know what to name them) are the forces of good that protect humanity, because they need humans to worship them of them to exist obviously.

So this generation of demigods gods are like nice gods for once!! They care for their children and the people under their wings!!

Best things as follows:

Percy, the god of the sea, is married to Annabeth, goddess of wisdom and war strategy.

Nico, god of death and the underworld, is married to Will, god of the sun and music.

Jason, god of the sky, is married to Leo, god of fire and crafts.

Frank, god of war, is married to Hazel, goddess of earth and riches.

Reyna, goddess of the hearth and war, is married to Thalia, goddess of the hunt.

Conner and Travis are the new twins and Rachel, goddess of family and marriage, is a sworn maiden because she wills her powers to maintain other relationships either between gods or between mortals.

Dakota on the other hand, doesn't like to be restrained as much as a mad person could go.

In this world there's nothing called being a maiden so as to be a hunter, bullshit I'm telling you, goddess Thalia herself is married.

Piper, the goddess of love and beauty knows best than to fall in love. Meg is one of the young gods, still closed in her bulb.

Also pffft, Thanatos who? I'm sure Nico can manage it all.

Another generation of demigods arise within no god is whoring around, the gods observe mortals and seek potential within them and when a god catches a mortal child leveling up to their preferences they claim them as a sort of blessing and take them under their wings.

The camps theme is surly still there, merged into one camp because one for some reason humans are less, and two because there's nothing called greek and roman gods anymore, only one version.

Demigods still go on quests, and as we know gods can't directly help them but they always make sure not to use mortals unless it's necessaity, and they try to help as much as they can.

I'd really love to live in a world like that! This post started off as a little imagine then quickly turned into world building, lol.

[spntoxicfemslashevent]

toxic femslash prompt: meg masters/marycifer

the thing about apocalypse world is, well. it's a result of mary's choices, isn't it? in the apocalypse world we see, michael won handily, but one can imagine another outcome. one where the fact that mary is of lucifer's bloodline matters a little more.

and when meg stumbles through the slit in reality, instead of her failed father she finds a great and terrible mistress shining through mary's broken body. a mistress she is ready to serve.

[literallyjusttoa]

More friendos for Apollo, since I just cannot stop. Might write something about these ideas if I can find the time this semester!

Lelantos: The Titan of the Air and moving unseen, and the brother of Leto. That's right, it's Apollo's uncle! Lelantos has spent the majority of his life hiding away from the rest of the mortal and immortal world. He speaks with his sister and his daughter, Aura, but has never really interacts with his Olympic niece and nephew. After the trials, Apollo starts visiting his mother a LOT more, and ends up running into Lelantos as a result. The two figure out that they are very similar, which makes Lelantos very excited. He ends up taking Apollo under his wing a bit.

Mnemosyne: The Titan of Memory. Apollo begins to fear the idea of losing his memory after the trials. The god's memory didn't feel as infallible as he once believed it was, so he reaches out to Mnemosyne. She agrees to teach him tactics to strengthen his own mind, and becomes one of the two mentors Apollo ends up gaining post-trials. She is a strict teacher, but only because she sees how determined Apollo is to master his own weaknesses.

Aither: The Primordial of Light. Apollo and Aither aren't friends, as much as Aither is just taking a bit of an interest in Apollo. Escaping Chaos isn't something any old god can do, and Aither is curious on what allowed Apollo to overpower his creator. He watches over Apollo when possible, and speaks to him when Apollo drives the sun chariot. Apollo ... doesn't really know what to do with this? He's honestly just trying to get by, so interacting with a primordial this much makes him nervous.

Perseis: An Oceanide, and the goddess of Solar Witchcraft. Perseis first approached Apollo to thank him for putting her husband, Helios, to rest. After a couple of conversations, she asks Apollo if he would like to learn her specific practice of sorcery, one that she had been teaching Helios before he passed. Solar witchcraft is a very niche line of study, and she doesn't have many people to pass her knowledge on to. Apollo agrees, and Perseis becomes his second mentor. Perseis is ... much more chaotic in her teachings than Mnemosyne.

Mousika: One of the twelve Horai, representing the hours. Mousika represents the hour of music. Mousika and Apollo were already acquainted long before the trials. Mousika would often sit in on Apollo's practice with the muses, and sometimes even add her voice to the fray. After the trials, Apollo's lyricism and writing take a turn that Mousika picks up on, and she finds it inspiring. Apollo believes the new songs he has written are too raw, based on ideas and feelings that Apollo himself is just starting to unwrap. Mousika acts as his sounding board, listening to the music he makes as he struggles his way through every emotion, and adding her own melancholy responses as harmonies.

Prometheus: The God of Forethought and Crafty Counsel. Ok, so this one’s a bit in the future. But imagine with the power of all the friendship I just made up for Apollo to have (along with Meg and his mortal friends and his kids ofc) Apollo works up the strength to stage that long awaited Olympian revolt. Who would his first ally be? I say Prometheus. This guy is so interesting, because he was ahead of the curve. Prometheus is the only god who I can see thinking mortals were not only equal to immortals, but actually more important. He would be so ABSOLUTELY stoked to learn Apollo was trying to overthrow his father, with one of his reasons being the mistreatment of mortals. I just think these two would be extremely op if they put their heads together.

[jo-harrington]

HEY. GIVE ME THE TENTACLES WITH THE KNIGHT.

❤️❤️❤️

Meg, my love...it's gonna start off soft but...let's just get weird with it. (Their whole relationship is a weird one anyway. Why not.)

Warnings/Themes: Smut, Dry Humping, P in V sex, metaphorical monsterfucking (just...have a really open imagination about this), soulmates(? but we already knew that...), the Knight reads a poem to Eddie.

Quoting "The Kraken" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Find other Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

October 1984

Below the thunders of the upper deep, Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

It was another lazy Sunday with no work or homework or any other obligations.

You had worked on Saturday morning, then got lunch with one of your coworkers from Bradley's. Eddie had spent a majority of his day at the library to find books to reference so he could finish up his plans for his Halloween One Shot for Hellfire, and then he dragged you to some party that he was asked to deal.

It wasn't your crowd; wasn't his either--the rich pretty kids that lived on the right side of the tracks--but the beer was free, and he'd sold enough to squirrel a bunch of cash away around the trailer, fill his wallet, and treat you to McDonalds for breakfast.

"Only the crispiest of hash browns for my angel," he said as he slipped back into his room after making the food run and presented you with the bag. You rolled your eyes and gave him a reluctant thank you kiss; he knew you hated that nickname.

And now you were lazing in bed, surrounded by books and each other. Your own little world. The stereo was on, softly playing some mix that you surprised him with. A perfect blend of your tastes and his.

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep The Kraken sleepeth:

"Hey this is a cool one." Your voice broke through the tranquil atmosphere and you shifted closer to him.

Eddie abandoned his note taking so he could look at what you had found. He vaguely recalled grabbing the book because the faded green cover had been embossed with tentacles. He didn't even know what was in it, it just looked interesting.

"The Kraken." You grinned and began reading, even though Eddie was close enough to see the poem himself.

Eddie chose to watch you instead.

The poem was short, so he didn't get to watch for very long, but he let his sight feed his hungry heart. And oh, how hungry it was.

He knew he would never get his fill of you.

This was where Eddie wanted to be forever.

He could try to imagine some kind of future with you but the details didn't matter. Whether it was a mansion after Corroded Coffin hit it big, or another trailer here in Hawkins if he dropped out of school and got a job at Thacker Tires. Or any and all variations in between.

All that mattered to him was that when you got to the heart of your lives, the very depths of your beings, when you took a peek into the 4 walls that constituted a home...there was just the two of you.

He wanted to be with you, alongside you, harmonious. Inside of you. Buried deep in your heart and in your mind where you could never get him out, even if you tried.

He knew the lightness in you filled and brightened all the dark parts of him and he could only hope that he did the same for you.

He would give everything.

faintest sunlights flee About his shadowy sides; above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;

You finished your recitation and went about on a tangent about divine and infernal beings, as you often did when you were inspired.

Tiamat and primordial chaos. Leviathan and the consumption of the damned.

Something stirred deep within him. A need. He would have made a joke about tentacles being a turn on, but when you looked at him expectantly, he didn't hesitate to kiss you.

Eddie looked forward to this. You both did, obviously. You basked in the emotional connection almost immediately after you met, but the physical aspect of your relationship was a journey you embarked on together after your first real date. Neither of you were inexperienced, but everything took a deeper meaning when you explored.

It was a euphoric experience the first time you kissed, touched, explored, fucked.

This was no different.

Your mouths were greedy things; they always were. Eddie preferred to bite while you liked to lick and lave. And while he was the one to initiate this little dalliance, he was happy to let you take control, to take what you wanted.

In the end he still got what he wanted too.

To be consumed by you. And to consume you in return.

And far away into the sickly light, From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

You nudged him onto his back and he winced at the dig of his notebook beneath his shoulder blade. You sensed the hitch of his breath as discomfort turned into pain, and further still into pleasure as you pushed your body into his, pushed him further into the bed, and let the promised heat of you engulf him. Your fingers slithered through his hair, nails raking against his sensitive scalp, and gave him something to focus on as your tongue pillaged his mouth, traced the grooves of his teeth, mated with his tongue.

He could feel you deep in his very being, licking into his ventricles...searching...searching...

Eddie moaned into your mouth, a sinful sound that even made himself a little more aroused, and your body reacted in kind. Your fingers dug, drilled through his skull and implanted themselves into his brain, depositing impure thoughts and demanding precious affection. Something he so willingly gave.

You could have him, possess him, protect him, and cherish him. Destroy him if you really wanted to, he didn't quite care.

You rolled your hips, clothed core seeking the delicious friction so you could be reborn anew. He angled his own his up, bucked into you. His release would come but he would give into the demand for the rich, ripe fury of yours first.

When you found it, you refused to retreat. Fell against him. Carved the place in his chest where you could live forever. Cradled in the hollow of his body, tangled in his veins, curled around his heart.

His hands gripped you, soothed you. Offered you respite from the savagery of this ritual. And when you were ready, pushed you back.

You patiently peeled one another's layers away. Clothes and skin and sinew. You shed your mortal forms until you were raw and visceral and vulnerable.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;

It was Eddie’s turn now. He liked to believe that he was not as demanding as you, needy little thing that you were. But he had an insatiable hunger of his own.

And much like the leviathan, he would consume what was in his path.

He laid you back and his teeth nipped. He sucked and slurped at what slickness you had to offer, then it was his turn for his tongue to breech you. To search and find the truest path that would belay his ultimate prize.

It didn't take long, and he didn't need to be as thorough as you were, unfortunately. But as your soft little whines became desperate and ear-splitting, he knew you were prepared.

Eddie offered sweet kisses to every inch of you as he ascended, to the fluttering, wanting softness of your core, to your hundred searching limbs that begged him closer, to your bared throat that pulsed with your life-force. Your cheeks, your eyelids, and finally your lips, still open and panting but eager to accept all he had to offer.

Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise

Eddie sunk deep into you. The rigid, veiny thickness of his cock dragged deliciously into your channel and when he finally found his prize, as he went as deep as he could go, he reared his head and released a gnarled, baritone wail.

It shook the walls and penetrated into the very core of the earth itself. Every God and Devil would know that the two of you had found each other, had found your way home. It was destined; it was foretold. And every power that be knew that if they dared to pull you apart, armageddon would soon follow.

When the tremors finally stopped and you had all senses about you, Eddie's hips drillled and pistoned, down and deeper, to memorize the welcoming softness of you. Every cavern, every chamber, every crevice, until he could practically taste your light.

And he transcended with violent delight.

He gave everything he could, emptied his being of himself so he could accept all of you. Every spurt a plea and a promise all at once. And he didn't need to curl himself around your heart, even if he desired it, because you reached into your chest and handed it to him. It was bloody and raw and dripping around your talons.

As you forced it to take the vacant space that he just revealed to you, he collapsed upon you, panting.

You held him, whispered sweet things into his ear.

"I need you. I see you. I want you. I love you, Eddie Munson."

and on the surface die.

[somnambulic-thing]

This has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for MONTHS.

I don't have a large audience here but every single reblog can go a long way! So, if you, dearest reader, decide to indulge in one of those treasures I encourage you to give something back by spreading the goodness and/or giving some love and feedback to the authors!

This is a collection of stories that stuck with me and that I keep coming back to and I'll tell you why as good as I can and without spoilering. (in no particular order.)

death and the maiden by @fairyysoup One of the first Eddie fics I read when I crashed into the fandom here on tumblr. It's immersive, it's creative, the lore is detailed but leaves enough mystery to hold tension. The insights into Eddie's inner world are written with so much care and humor; it's heartbreaking and adorable and there was not one dull minute of reading.

river monster Eddie by @courtingchaos This just grabbed me by the throat and pulled me under. It's so dreamy, so soft and still sharp. Meg's writing makes me smell the dirt, the mossy riverside, the minerals of the rocks we rest on. Our Monster Boi is mysterious, he has character that is shining through even the smallest actions: curious, playful, rough. I want to know everything about his life and what he does to pass the time.

this dreamy blurb by @chestylarouxx Em is the master of illuminating the beauty of the ordinary, of painting big pictures with few words and unleashing avalanches of emotions in subtle ways that will worm under your skin before you realise what's happening. I read this short piece more times than I can count. The intimacy, the softness that is never just sweet but goes even deeper because there is also the sour lurking around the edges. (Or vigorously slapping your face, but I like that, you know?)

the Store Manager Verse by @jo-harrington So this kinda hit me unexpectedly. I am usually not remotely interested in retail settings but I am invested in this! The setting is simple, but never dull! The sting of everyday struggles, everyday drama and the fact that you can't escape yourself, that you take your demons with you wherever you go is met with the beauty of caring for others, of making the best out of subpar situations, of making the most out of a little, of taking a leap of faith despite being scared shitless to fall. Eddie is a well-rounded character, no flawless dream boy but a little mess with a golden heart who's trying so hard. Too hard, sometimes. I love him dearly. Go read this.

last string to sever by @dr-aculaaa There is this quality to Dracs words: like when you enter someone's living space and the light, the shapes and colours, the smell just make sense. They invite you into something unique, something intimate, filled with nuance and dept that I have to take breaks sometimes to untangle everything I just experienced. This story is heavy, is brutal and mean and it stings but it's not just stepping down on you until you can't breathe anymore. Drac leaves cracks in the concrete and through those you can see a way ahead, a reason within. The care between the characters, the hands reaching even after they have been slapped away. The relationships are distinctive. And The Longing! Nothing I could write here would capture it all. This text is insufficient. Have your own taste.

it's been a long year by @myosotisa Again a prime example of painting big pictures with few words. The relationships in this run so deep that the scene unravelling before our eyes hits you like a freight train. It's visceral in exactly the right amount; the physical pain and not overshadowing the weight of lives cut short but accentuating it. It's so tender and soft and full of gutwrenching gratitude laced between the horror... I'm choking up writing this (not kidding).

I'm just a sucker (for you) by @bettyfrommars Betty, Betty, Betty. Highly imaginative, an impressive range and such a sense for detail and the small things that make the difference between a nice story and a story that will stay with you for a while. This short story had all my earthly senses engaged within seconds: Fall was everywhere, the smell of popcorn mingled with the earthy scent of the season. This is one of my favourite Eddie characterisations so far. He's so alive, so sweet and awkward and silly, daring but shy. You made him a complex, believable guy and all contained in so few words. I am kneeling before your greatness.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Blood Sugar Sex Magik

Pollen | Dreams | Fairytales | Zanna | and some things more nefarious.

Pollen

A Fight For Love & Glory - Winchesters x you (female)

Summary: You’re struck by sex pollen, so Sam and Dean agree to help you out.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, feelings of guilt, ass play, dirty talk, W*ncest adjacent

Words: 2K

Magic Sex & French Fries - Jo Harvelle x Ruby 2.0

Prompt: Great Big Lesbian prompt: SPN, Jo and Ruby II have to have sex to save the world. Or something. Sex pollen? I don’t care. 😘

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, fisting, confuzzled boys

Words: 1K

Bad Girls Underneath -  Ruby 2.0 x Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Ruby and Jojo get hit by a sex curse again; this time, they need Dean’s help.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, magical-dick/male-gaze bullshit, probably too much commentary and emotional complication, why am I like this, I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself, fisting, brief choking

Words: 2,600

Dreamy/dreams

Cactus - Dean Winchester x Meg Masters x Castiel

Summary: Post-battle, exhausted and wanting, Dean and Meg and Cas take care of each other.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, dreamlike sex, a little choking, Dean’s always hungry

Words: 3,200

I’ll Keep Them Still - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Dean remembers promises and pictures in his mind. And he remembers her.

Warnings/tags: mature, songfic, angst, dream/afterlife sequences, purple prose, I’m sorry

Words: 1,100

Moving Furniture - Steve!Cas x Meg Masters 2.0

Summary: She’s been gone for a year – sacrificed herself to save Sam and her unicorn – but Cas still dreams about her.

Warnings/tags: non-explicit dream sex, fluff, shmoop, there’s a dog

Words: 2K

If You Don’t, Dear, Confess - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod

Prompt: Sam has dream about being seduced by Rowena in the bunker that gets interrupted/woken by Dean?

Warnings: mature

Words: 620

Fairytales

Hark and Hush - Purgatory Dean x wolf spirit in a female body

Summary: This is the story of how Dean Winchester hunted, became enamored with, and slew the ancient spirit of the Big Bad Wolf.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester, stalking, blood, gore, rough sex, character death

Words: 2,200

More Nefarious *dubious consent

His Sword - Michael/Dean x female prostitute

Summary: Michael takes some time to remind Dean who’s in control.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, edge play, bondage, knife play, blood play, choking, rough sex, name-calling, character death

Words: 2,300

Supernova - MOC Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: Since Dean’s had the Mark and the Blade, he’s pulled away from you, afraid of hurting you. You miss him, and you’ve had it. One night you push him to the edge.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, bondage, blood play, biting, bruising, knifeplay, rough sex, dubcon/mindfuck

Words: 2,500

Zanna

Just My Imagination - Dean Winchester x female Zanna

Summary: After Mary leaves the boys a second time, Dean needs a reset, or to blow off some steam – something. He heads out on a snowy evening the night before Christmas and finds just the right thing.

Warnings/tags: mature, Hallmark channel fuckery

Words: 2,800

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: A Whale of a Tale

Darren Aronofsky: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the whale Stephen King: wow! sounds like a whale of a - Aronofsky: do not patronize me

Aronofsky: i am no peddler of cheap thrills Aronofsky: no two-bit carnival hack frightening children with spooks and spectres Aronofsky: i am an artist laying bare the true horror of human existence Aronofsky: like what if a guy ate 2 pizzas

Aronofsky: this is the story of a guy who's so fat Aronofsky: that when you see him, all you feel is disgust   Aronofsky: but not in a trashy way Aronofsky: But it’s all shot by Herb Ritz so it’s really beautiful and you feel sorry for him

Aronofsky: ok picture this Aronofsky: this guy is so fat, he doesn't eat like a human Aronofsky: he eats like a monster Aronofsky: like a cookie monster! Aronofsky: it really makes you think

Aronofsky: just imagine Aronofsky: he's making anchovy & nutella sandwiches Aronofsky: limburger & siracha cake   Aronofsky: you know, just eating like a cartoon character Aronofsky: but we'll play the jaws theme while it happens so you know its scary

Stephen King: my god, this is the most terrifying story I've ever heard! Aronofsky: just wait Aronofsky: imagine we turn up the constant snorting & belching that a fat person does so you don't miss a SECOND King: my god!! King: and they call ME the master of the macabre!

Aronofsky: ok so the fat guy is a professor at a college Aronofsky: but he's so fat that he has to zoom his lectures Aronofsky: i've been working on this script for 10 years but its really lucky that covid happened or this detail wouldn't really make sense

Aronofsky: but when he's in the depths of a pizza binge, he emails his students all "fuck essays!! write me something honest!!" Aronofsky: like some real dead poets society shit Aronofsky: but turns out his students are nerds who love writing essays, so they get him fired instead

Aronofsky: in his last lecture, the fat guy is all "some of you wrote essays of heartbreaking honesty" Aronofsky: and then he reads those essays to the whole class Aronofsky: which would be kind of fucked up Aronofsky: but luckily they didn't actually say anything interesting

Aronofsky: they all wrote "my parents are annoying" Aronofsky: and "sometimes i feel sad" Aronofsky: but the fat guy is so moved that he turns on his zoom camera Aronofsky: to reveal the awful truth of his fatness!! Stephen King: this story is getting way too scary for me

Aronofsky: the kids are shocked! Aronofsky: they thought he kept his camera turned off because he was a chiseled adonis Aronofsky: but now they know the awful truth that their professor is fat! Aronofsky: then the fat guy smashes his computer Aronofsky: in a fit of fat rage

Stephen King: wow! this story is terrifying! it just gives me chills! King: maybe we can have a nice happy story to calm us all down next King: hey meg why don't you tell us that nice story about the pill? Meg Elison:

Elison: what King: yeah you know that happy story about the pill that lets you lost weight instantly? Elison: that's not a happy story King: what? yeah, it is! King: they lose weight! King: now that's what i call hopepunk! Elison: OH Elison: MY Elison: GOD

[cozzzynook]

I like the idea of bee being a diplomat, like think about it. guy’s one of the most known bots for being nice, open minded (sorta), empathetic, and respectful bots. to most. bots who know him personally knows he’s a lil’ bitch, but he’s respectful and shit when needed to keep a neutral stance in a situation. and I’m mostly basing this off my own bee in one of my AUs where at first he started as a courier bot, upgraded to a spy and scout, then a commander for the autobot army, and then a diplomat. and almost everyone knows the guy!!

I just think he would be a great candidate for that job, I also hc that as a scout/spy he would need to learn a handful of languages from cybertron. y’know, for spy and stuff, to ensure he gets all the information he can. and because he knows a few languages, it makes it slightly easier for him to pick up other languages outside of cybertron. and look at bumblebee!!!

he’s short and yellow, with a kinda bubbly personality!! he’s approachable, say if you didn’t know the guy beforehand. at first glance, he looks defenseless and inexperienced, you wouldn’t know this bug would be an espionage agent and scout. I just think he would be a very successful guy for the position of diplomat because of his communication skills and approachability.

oh, and possibly potential prowlbee or soundbee?? no idea, you can choose, I just say those two because they hold positions that would probably have them involved with diplomatic relations. like prowl in IDW, in those comics prowl acted as an advisory or second hand man to bee, helping him make decisions and shit I have no idea I didn’t read the comics yet. and soundwave is commonly depicted as a communications officer, I think megs would have the common sense to get his CO as a diplomat for his faction to be properly represented.

so prowlbee; working in the same environment, different positions, possible angst with them not being able to have a relationship because of their positions?? I think that’s how it works, no clue. anyway, soundbee; again working in the same environment, almost similar positions, potential angst being the same with prowlbee or because of their different factions.

thanks for listening to me yap <3

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I really like this headcanon.

Bee is definitely a harmless little bug that hasn’t committed atrocities in war like all the other minis & bigger bots. Of course not. He just happens to know how to snap a mechas neck cables with two fingers because he learned it as a silly little hobby, nothing more :). Jk jk lol

Bee as a diplomat is pretty good but i like to imagine he’s a diplomat behind the scenes because he likes his privacy and doesn’t want that pressure. Also him with prowl is so interesting because Prowl is so evil in the comics but him being a deep down good inside bot with known sweetheart sassing bee is so funny.

I imagine bee in a secret relationship with soundwave and they are such an odd couple yet compatible in a way most bots didn’t see coming. They think Bee drags Soundwave to raves when in fact the music master himself is the one who planned and hosted it. Bee is just there for fun times and moral support along with making sure the cassettes don’t offline anyone who says something about Soundwave or Bee.