#since i definitely should have enough RAM

[stormhollows]

🌙💙 Rigging one of my OCs as practice

This is a heavy WIP still, I'm still working on the head.

I'm using Inochi2D for this rig since I can't be bothered to learn Live2D yet! It's free and if you care about open source software, you'll probably like it better than Live2D.

[valeskawhore]

IMAGINE:

APOCALYPSE AU?? PROXIES X READER (IDEA!)

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been seeing all around tumblr from my mutuals and honestly, why the hell not? I love the idea of apocalyptic survival. Let me know if this should be a series !!

An eerie creak sounds out behind me as I opened the window, and Dust flooded the dimly lit room as I made my way inside. Exploring abandoned houses wasn't always a typical interest of mine, but staying warm and having a dry place to sleep at night was.

Rain clashed gently down on the roof from outside, crickets could be heard and soon the silence rested back into place when I pulled the cracked window shut from the other side.

This place definitely was not the best, but at least it was dry.

First thing I did was open my backpack, setting up candles and hanging an old sheet that I found laying in the corner, over the window to block out the light.

Repeatedly, I told myself that this was just temporary.

I didn't have enough food to last more than a few nights anyways. Walkers roamed more and more with every passing day, tho winter was coming and it was coming fast.

Hopefully, that would do something to slow the walkers, even if it was just by a few steps, I prayed.

With a sigh, I slowly sat down on the make-shift mattress that I made for myself, hearing my ankles pop in the process because man, I really needed to stretch more often, I'm not getting any younger.

I took off my baseball cap and pulled down my mask to breathe just a little bit clearer, running my fingers through my hair, I noticed how greasy it was. The thought made me disgusted since.. Well, I couldn't even imagine how I smelled and i didnt want to either.

Popping open a bottle of water, I drank my thirst away. Listening to the rain pour, the thunder crack and the sounds of the undead trudging along outside.

As I clenched my eyes shut for a second..

I blocked out the screams, the cries and pleads for help.. The cocking of guns and the growls of the unthinkable tearing and ripping the flesh of the people being eaten alive. My fingernails began to itch, my knuckles on fire, tears welding in my eyes.

“Y/N!!” She screamed, “HELP ME!!” she cried..

I sat my bottled water down, and lit up a cigarette.

“It’ll be ok..” I told myself, “Survive one more day, just one more,” everynight.

“I’ll find you baby.. one day..”

I closed my eyes.. Relaxed my body, breathed out deeply.

“Goodnight y/n” I told myself.

The front door clashed open.

*~*~*~~*~*~*~

“GET INSIDE! GET THE FUCK INSIDE!” A voice screamed. The sounds of the undead gurgled up the last of their life and slammed their heads against the door, screaming. I heard multiple people slamming themselves against the front door, refraining it from opening. “ROGERS, FIND SOMETHING, NOW. WE NEED TO BARD THE DOOR!”

“I-I-M OHN–ON IT!!” Someone stuttered.

I jumped up from my mattress, reaching for my gun and loading in the magazine. I threw the sleeping bag off of me, and unlocked the door. I heard the others rummaging down stairs for something to board the door. I peaked my head out,

Something suddenly rammed against my head, the door was torn open, slamming into my head. I fell back on my ass, and reached around lazily for my gun.

I heard a gasp fall above me, my vision was spinning, but I found my gun and raised it above me at the silhouette. There were two of them, then three, then two, until both shadow figures meshed into one guy. His face was something more,

Two dark brown eyes, greasy chestnut hair, he nose was already bleeding and there was a bandage covering up the right side of his lips stretching to his cheek bones.

He was definitely a young man, 23-24 maybe. Wearing yellow rusted-rimmed goggles, a blue hoodie with a tanned, older jacket overtop, there was a black and gray-ish mask wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his face. The (now) snickering man wore stained blue jeans and some bloodied converse.

His laugh rang out through my skull, pounding against my ear lobes. His eyes became impossibly wide now, canines glimmering in the moonlight as thunder cracked in the background.

With one final sadistic smile,

He picked up his double hand axes and raised them high, His laughter almost screams now, The screams of a hyena, a skinwalker luring its prey.

The young man brought the axes down quickly,

I rolled over with a small scream, doing my best to avoid the hard steel.

I fumbled around on the ground, reaching for my gun.

When I had it in my hand, the man jumped on me and slammed my back into the hardwood floor. The house was so old that dust jumped into the air, and swam around. I clenched my eyes shut and coughed until I could breathe again. I felt his boney hands wrap around my throat, his skin uncomfortably cold and white. I kicked my feet behind him and threw my head back,

The man let up his grip but didn't scream out in pain, his laughter only grew.

I grabbed the boy's hair and threw him off of me, his body collided against the wall,

Because,

His body actually went through it, clashing into the room next to us.

Dust flooded the room once more, and as the psychopath took longer than expected to rise back to his feet, I grabbed my sleeping bag and ran downstairs, contents loosley in hand.

I struggled to throw my jacket on as i ran down the steps,

A shorter figure stepped in front of me, and stuck his leg out, successfully tripping me in the process. I felt my world being flipped upside down as my rib cage cracked against the staircase. I coughed up blood, my heartbeat in my ears as I laid there motionless.

With my vision dark, i could only here throat-ripping screeching from the outside world,

Three figures stepped in my view of the door, I pulled my arms in front of me and did my best to drag my body away. I moaned out in a breath-less cry as I felt the rusted nails sticking out of the wood flooring scraped against my cracked ribs.

Something stopped me, whoever or.. Whatever it was, grabbed my achilles heel and dragged me back in the living room with one strong pull.

They flipped me on my back, blood dripped down the corner of my mouth as I did my best to control my breath. Hesitantly, I reached my hand up and folded my fist into a weak, shaky middle finger, my ‘fuck you’ to the world.

I heard one of them snicker before the tallest one leaned down carefully, dark red painted eyes peered into mine before he pulled off my mask. I had a surge of anger come over me, as I reached to kick him in the balls but he caught my leg, almost expecting it even. His grip tightened menacingly on my thigh, before he gave my cracked rib cage an almost impossibly fast sucker punch.

I coughed out blood on instinct, my body spasming. I held my chest and my body folded forwards, my knees to my chest. “F-fuck you..” I coughed, tears streaming down my face.

His hand, still on my thigh, tightened once more. Leaning close to my face, the stranger whispered..

“What.. do we have here?”

[fallenhunnyapple]

Decided to do a kinda.. design breakdown for my version of Sinner Adam cuz there's a number of deliberate choices.

Piercings

Left eyebrow ring piercing

Two Hoops on the Left ear

Two chained studs on the Right ear + dangly triangle

Tongue piercing

Snake bites

Nipple barbells

Before becoming a sinner, the only piercings he had were tongue and ears because he could get away with them without Sera chastising him

The snake bites were just There when he became a Sinner and the irony pisses him off, but they're definitely not the only snake bites he's getting :3c

The eyebrow piercing and ear piercings also just Were There when he became a Sinner. The only ones he got afterwards were the nipple piercings and that's because he finally learned why males have nipples and a little of wanting to please his dom

He's got some vaguely goatish/sheepy details

He has the long rectangular pupils that give him an advantage to lateral views which, given the fact that he's severely Nerfed, is an advantage he needs.

Obviously his horns are an homage to the ones on his helmet but have the grooves that are more common in ram horns.

He got ears that are somewhere between floppy sheep ears and elf ears. They can move a bit up and down but they're not super mobile.

Wings

His wings are a dull golden color, nothing like the vibrancy of his wings as an Angel. And more than that, they're Literally Clipped. He can't use them as wings, he's completely grounded. He can't put them away either so he has a constant reminder of the fact that his wings are Useless. He still uses them protectively, they're still big enough to at least partially cover himself (or Lucifer when need be)

Tail

He has a classic long spaded tail. Naturally, it's All Black, but because of his deal with Lucifer, there's a Red Mark on it, not unlike the heart marks on Lucifer and Charlie's tails.

Scars/Marks

Adam has a number of these. Of course he has the scar along his torso from when his rib was removed. That's something so deeply engrained in him that even coming back as a Sinner doesn't remove that.

He also has the Scars from Niffty going absolutely wild with the knife. Instead of just a single classic X where the main blow was, he has a number of scars littering his chest and back, the first and worst Stab being the most visible. These scars have a bit of a golden hue to them because they were scars to his Angelic Body.

His Apple mark is something Lucifer deliberately left there. It's also like a Golden hued Scar, and it acts like a Brand. After all, their deal is for him to lend Adam protection, but he can't Always Be there, so a mark like that should help deter anything too bad from happening since it's Very Clear that Adam belongs to Lucifer. It hasn't always worked to plan, but it does give some level of protection when Adam is on his own, especially in the beginning where he doesn't trust or like anyone in the hotel and vice versa.

Bonus notes

I know I don't really draw Adam as Soft as a lot of people do, but he's definitely not Skinny. To me, because of his position as Leader of Heaven's army and being responsible for training the Exorcists and also just getting involved with Exterminations himself, I see it more as like a balance of muscle and fat, solid and soft. In other AUs where his lifestyle is different, so is his body type to me. But in this one, this is the kinda dad bod type I give him. (The lack of hair is because I am a coward and don't really like body hair so I don't wanna draw it for my own stuff)

Also: I have Sinner Adam's hair, skin, wings, and wardrobe all be much more muted colors than how I draw him as an Angel and that's also deliberate. No more divine light for this guy, so it's left him dull and dark.

As for why I don't have him with a face resembling his mask: While I do appreciate that choice for other people's designs, to me it's got a lot to do with my Dysmorphia Headcanons. He doesn't like how Human his face is, it's one of the things he has the most insecurities about. So of course Hell is gonna exploit them and give him a face that's so very similar to his human/angel One. He doesn't get away from it that easy.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk

Tbh if anyone wants to hear anything else about that AU, or any other, any details or questions, please feel free to Ask. I love getting to talk about my ideas, I just don't know how usually lol

[actuallysaiyan]

Hello again, thank you for answering me despite answering the same question on the same day! (I was the anon who had asked you about your requests being closed :) If that's okay with you, I'd like to send you an idea I have in mind for hcs before I forget about it.

Sooo I've seen in a post of yours you headcanon the saiyans having a mating cycle, and I was wondering if you'd write hcs about that period of time with future trunks? Like how is it spent with him? (Am I making this clear enough? Sorry if not :')

Still, please only write this if you want to and whenever you'd like to! I don't wish you to be pressured or anything. I hope the heatwave will be gone soon; take care of yourself! You're a great writer <3

warnings: breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of rough sex, the usual smutty suspects here, dirty talk, mating cycle pairing: Future Trunks x Fem!Reader a/n: I'm not opening my requests just yet(working on it though!) but I just had to answer this! I hope you enjoy!

SFW

Trunks gets very affectionate and loving during the weeks leading up to his mating cycle. At first, he’s not really sure what’s going on, but he finds it so nice to be close to you.

He finds himself thinking about you constantly. He can’t get you off his mind at all. You’re all he can think about. So nevermind trying to train too hard or to concentrate on anything else, you’ll be his only thought.

Goten is the first to comment on it. Trunks is barely thinking about his next move when Goten is able to knock him off his feet. Trunks will feel so ashamed about it.

He gets hungrier and sleeps a lot more. Bulma will start to complain when she realizes he’s been hoarding plates and mugs in his room.

Then comes the nesting. Trunks goes around finding the most comfortable blankets and pillows in his home. He will make his bed a million times before deciding on the best set up for the both of you.

He’ll start suggesting that you should come over for movie nights and things like that. He’ll get you so comfortably situated in his bedroom and he’ll throw on any of your favorite movies.

Trunks starts to groom himself more and make sure he’s clean and smelling his very best. He’ll find out the scents you like, but he’s very shocked to know that you enjoy his natural scent. 

NSFW

It hits him so fucking hard one day. It’s like a horny train rammed right into him. His cock is so hard from when he wakes up until he goes to bed. 

He can barely sleep when he’s in this state. It makes him sweat and his heart races. All he can do is jerk himself off until he’s happy. Until he’s satisfied. But that will take a long time.

Trunks will seek you out and he will smell you so much more. He can practically taste your pheromones. It drives him crazy.

Once he finds you, he knows that he has to breed you. It becomes this instinctive action for him at this point. Nothing else matters when he realizes this.

First, he’ll make you cum so many times. He enjoys being between your thighs when he’s in heat. He laps and slurps at your pussy like a starved man.

Once Trunks is sure that you are most definitely satisfied, he’ll have you on your back first.

Mating press is the position he uses first and for the last session of the night as well. It just makes it perfect for what he is doing.

He alternates from being rough and fast to being so sweet and whiny. You aren’t sure which one is your favorite, but since he switches from one mode to the other quickly, you don’t even care to choose a favorite.

“Baby,” he chokes out. “How are you this fucking tight?” He ruts against you like it’s the only thing he knows to do. It’s such a steady pace, and the way his cock just bullies into you over and over, you’ll fall off the edge soon.

Another one of his favorite positions? Doggy style! He will push you down onto the bed, face down and ass up. He spreads your cheeks and lets his cock slide between them. 

Just when you’re sure he’s going to push it in, he pulls away. Then you’re left with a few seconds of hesitation. Before long, he’s ramming into you at a breakneck speed.

Your little moans and whimpers really turn him on. He feels like a wild animal when he fucks you like this. This is when he really feels like a Saiyan. It’s more animalistic than any other sex he’s ever had.

He loves to cum inside of you, but he’s not opposed to marking you up with his seed. You’ll wear it on your face, tits and ass before the night is through.

Trunks will growl and grunt through every sentence, whether it be praising you or degrading you. The man just says the filthiest things to you.

“Needy little human, you can just barely take my cock.” “So fucking tight, baby. It’s like you were made for my cock.” “Hngg! If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m going to cum so quick.” “Love this wet, little pussy. All mine forever.”

When he’s finally done, he spends lots of time on aftercare. You are his lover after all. He wants to make sure you’re well after such an intense session.

Lots of nesting here too. He will fluffy up the pillows, change the sheets, snuggle you. Trunks will get you anything to eat or drink afterwards.

And then once he’s had his fill and has taken care of you, he sleeps for a long time. Being in his mating cycle makes him so tired. He will be exhausted. 

[confusedminx]

Perv | Steddie x Reader (Smut)

------

Warnings: P in v sex (kind of??? it's mentioned but not described in detail) AFAB reader, no pronouns used, oral (f recieving), pervy!Steve harrington. not proof read, MINORS DNI 18+

A/N: This is a part two to this but can be read as it's own piece. I had a lot of fun with this :>> I hope you enjoy.

Steve Harrington was a lot of things, but he was not a pervert.

He had had plenty of sex in his 20 years of life, but he wasn't a pervert. He is just a normal man with a completely normal sex drive. He had no reason to pry into other people's sex life, his own was exciting enough.

It was an accident the first time he walked in on two of his close friends. One, his best friend since childhood and two, his recently made friend Eddie Munson. It was shocking, he didn't didn't know those two had something going on. He watched as they rushed to cover themselves with the blankets surrounding them.

He turned around quickly, wanting to give them respect. He yells out a quick apology before walking out of your bedroom. He walked to the living room and sat down on your couch. He tried not to, but he kept going back to what he saw. The way Eddie towered over you, the way your hips collided in quick thrusts, your nails scratching down his back, his hair tied loosely exposing his jawline.

Steve Harrington is not a pervert.

He was angry with himself, he shouldn't sit here infantilized about his two friends having sex. He shouldn't be thinking that he could see the hickies leading down Eddie's chest. He shouldn't think about the bruises he saw on your hips, and he definitely should not be thinking about Eddie's ringed hand wrapped around your throat.

After five minutes you both walked out of the bedroom, walking to Steve and apologizing that he had to see that. Explaining they've been together a month now, and wanted to keep in lowkey. Steve apologized for interrupting them, handed you the movie you forgot at work that he promised to bring you, and walked out. He got in his car, drove a mile, and jacked off in his car to the memory of you both.

The next three times he caught you two, were not accidents. He knew you both were pretty reckless whenever you both finally announced your relationship. No more sneaking around, so you were both pretty open with your affection for one another. You would do it anywhere it felt like. You guys would sneak off to bathrooms, storage closets, your car, even the break room at family video. Anywhere with the slightest privacy just to get a bite of each other. Everyone knew what you were doing, but no one had urges like Steve.

Steve pretended to have to pee, just to catch you guys fucking against the rickety sink. Purposely left his jacket in your car just so he could go back to get it. Pretended he couldn't hear your quiet gasps through the door of the breakroom. Just to catch a glimpse of Eddie's face stuck between your thighs, your face through a foggy car window, Eddie ramming your hips up and down on his lap.

Okay, maybe Steve Harrington is a bit of a pervert.

At this point, Eddie had caught on. Eddie Munson is a pervert. He knows all the tricks. All the schemes. He knew what Steve was doing, and he wasn't mad about that. If he wanted anyone to be perving on him and his babe then he'd want Steve Harrington to be that guy. He was filled with pride, and his ego was at an all time high.

Eddie told you what Steve was doing. You didn't believe it at first. You were laying on his bed, snacking on his munchies food when he brought it up. "Ed's calm down, Steve's my best friend and he's not a perv." You say rolling your eyes.

"Think about it sweetheart, four times? And think about the bathroom one, it's obvious we were fucking. He's not dumb."

"He's a little dumb. I mean all that hairspray he used killed most of his brain cells." You snort popping a cheez-it in your mouth. 

"I'm serious baby, I think we got a peeping tom on our hands." 

"OK so if it is true, what are we even gonna do about it."

"...What if he joined us?"

Steve received a call from Eddie inviting him over for a movie night with the two of you. Steve didn't know if he could handle being so close to you both alone. Even when you guys are hanging out with the others it's hard not to let his mind wander. Being alone with you two? He'll definitely not be able to control his dirty thoughts. 

And yet, he agreed.

He arrived later that day, bringing some sodas and a few movie options. He knocked on the door of the trailer, but no one answered. He decided to just open the door, he knew Eddie wouldn't care and it was unlocked anyways. He stepped inside and that's when he heard it.

"Oh fuck, Eddie." Steve's head whipped to Eddie's bedroom door. You were moaning so loud he's shocked he didn't hear it from outside. This felt like a trap, Steve's logical side knew it probably was, but he didn't care. He walked as quietly as he could to Eddie's door. It was cracked open and when he looked inside, he saw a scene that almost had him cumming in his pants.

Eddie's head was in between your thighs, eating you out like you were his first meal in weeks. Your hand was tangled in his hair, your back arched as you moaned out his name like it was the only word you knew. Blood rushed down to Steve's cock, and he reached down to palm it. This was so wrong, Steve thought, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

That is until you both made eye contact. Your hand went to push Eddie away, and Steve went white as a ghost, realizing he had been caught and was going to probably get his ass beat. Eddie pulled away from you, smirking as he got up and opened the door.

"Was wondering when you'd get here, pretty boy." He winked at Steve, holding his arm out to invite him in. Steve's face went from terrified to confused.

"W..what?" 

"Oh come on Steve, you really didn't know we knew? About your little interruptions. I can see the way you stare at us." Eddie smirked, bringing his hand to clutch Steve's jaw and pull him closer. "We decided to give you a little break and let you join us" Steve stared into Eddie's eyes and felt his legs go jello. For once Steve was left absolutely speechless.

"Are you guys gonna keep eye fucking each other or are we actually gonna fuck" You said from the bed, laying on your side looking at the both of them. They looked back at you, and both had broken into smirks. Seems like Steve Harrington has gotten his boldness back. They both walked back over to you.

"Sorry to keep you waiting like that baby. Hey pretty boy, why don't you get a taste of her, I promise she's amazing." Eddie smirked at the both of you. 

"Gladly." Steve quickly found his place in between your legs, his hands reaching to grip your thighs and push them apart.

"You have a very high reputation to uphold Harrington.'' You smirked at him, pushing his hair out of his face. He winked at you and started kissing and sucking at your thighs. His kissing lead up your thighs finally reaching to your center. Your cunt was already dripping, Eddie had worked you up for almost an hour before Steve had arrived.

Eddie got behind you, your back leaning against his chest. His hands slide up to your chest to fondle with your breasts. Your right nipple finds its place between his finger tips. Steve suddenly places his mouth on your cunt, and was quick to prove that all the rumors were true. Steve Harrington gives the best head.

Steve's tongue ran a line up your cunt, collecting the mixture of your wetness and Eddie's spit. His lips stuck onto your clit and began sucking, his fingers leaving your thigh to stick two inside you. After Eddie's work on you they went in easily. Above Steve you were losing your absolute mind. Your hands were gripping onto Eddie's forearms, leaving crescent shaped marks from your nails digging into his skin. You were screaming out Steve's name as he finger fucks you. 

His fingers leave you, only for them to be replaced by his tongue. He rammed his tongue in and out of you, his nose pushing against your clit. Your hand left Eddie's arm, flying to Steve's hair.

"Hey baby, don't mess up his money maker." Eddie jokes from behind you. You could feel his erection pressing against your ass, it seems he was enjoying this just as much as you.

As Steve pushed you closer and closer to release you kept repeating his name. It felt so good to Steve. To finally hear his name fall out of your pretty lips. He looked up at you, your head was thrown back against Eddie's shoulder. He locked eyes with Eddie who was already watching him intently. He shot Steve a smirk and a wink before his hand reached into your hair, forcing you to look down at Steve.

"Come on show some respect, look into his eyes as he makes you cum, baby" Eddie said into your ear before sucking a hickey right below it. You followed his order and looked into Steve's eyes, still moaning out his name followed by a bunch of nonsense. "aww, baby has he already fucked you dumb" Eddie said in a teasing voice.

Steve sped up his movements as he felt you get closer and closer to climax. Your orgasm hait you like a truck, your back arching off of Eddie. You basically jumped with how hard it hit you. You were so turned on and so sensitive from Eddie's edging, it felt wonderful. Steve worked you through your orgasm before pulling away, your slick dripping down his chin.

"That's a good look for you, pretty boy, might have to mess your face up myself." Eddie smirked at him, before looking at you, who was dazed out from cumming so hard. "Hope you're not too out of it sweet heart." Eddie said, grabbing your jaw so you'd look at him. "Cause we're just getting started."

[rotten-debzee]

Murderer Heather AU(?)

(I wouldn't call it Heather as JD anymore since they go through different character development)

The plot of the story begins as it's supposed to be, a Veronica among Heathers and JD being a loner.

Everything seems normal until instead of falling in love with him, Veronica starts to feel disgusted by JD and the way he views the world. She just wants to push him away and act like they don't know each other, but JD didn't handle rejection that well so he keeps insisting and stalking Veronica around to supposedly 'win her back'.

The days pass, and our infamous party happens, but Veronica still hangs out with the Heathers, since this time, she goes alone to apologize to Heather, and you can say things went down well and smoothly with them after that.

Veronica wanted to feel happy now, instead, she feels observed by JD at every step, and the anxiety doesn't let her live peacefully, she always seems insecure and this doesn't goes unnoticed by Chandler of course.

Heather always had the feeling that the trench coat boy was no good, so, with the growing feelings she is developing towards Veronica, she started to be protective over her (in a way it isn't obvious yet), not letting her be in her own, so he won't dare to be near her.

Everything seems to get better, but some day, everything just went downhill when JD takes Veronica into the woods, wanting to push himself into her without her consent. She keeps trying to fight him back but he's stronger.

Heather saw him taking her away, so she followed them, watching the events happen from a distance at first, but she couldn't just stay there without doing anything, her Veronica is in danger.

So she runs towards them, not knowing what to do until she reaches out the gun JD had in his coat, not knowing that this time around, the gun was filled with real bullets.

She didn't even checked, since she just wanted to stop him at all cost, so without a single doubt in her body, she shoot him, first bullet at his head, second bullet at his chest.

Heather takes Veronica closer to her, gentle and protective, finally free from that guy. But after they finally come back to senses, both the girls stay in shock for a while, staring how the dead body of JD remains bleeding on the grass.

"What should we do now?"

Their plan is risky, almost cruel, but having no other choice and being blinded by fear, the decide to make his murder seem like a suicide, wanting to protect themselves, knowing that nobody actually will care if the loner boy died at the end of the day.

As time passes, Heather grows from protective to possesive, she doesn't want anybody near her Veronica, not even the other Heathers, she doesn't want more people threaten the safety of her beloved one.

She would gladly lock her in her room if only she had a way to do it.

The mean demeanor and aggressiveness of Heather also grows like scorching fire, if someone wasn't afraid of her before, they definitely are now.

And not only that is growing inside her, as she keeps thinking, maquinating.

After doing her first kill, the idea of getting rid of people who bothers her starts to sound appealing to Heather, and seeing how easy she can get off the hook, she suddenly had the urge to give in her temptations and go for another shot.

And days later, the perfect trigger was pulled when she found out about how close Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney were from hurting her Veronica.

So, she decides to start hunting down the jocks. After she brought a gun by her own, she attract the boys to her, and everything happens just as she planned, and this time, Heather doesn't meddle Veronica in between.

The school is noticed about the two boys 'suicide' not so long after, nobody getting sad for that. Except for Veronica, who eventually founds out the real reason of the jocks deaths.

Getting enough courage to do so, she confronts Heather about it.

Her manners are becoming clumsy, her perfect facade is starting to feel messy.

Heather seems completely out of her mind for some reason.

And Veronica just want her to snap out of whatever she is going through right now.

They argued loudly in Heather's room.

They scream.

They cry.

Until Veronica finally snaps, "you're becoming just like him!"

Heather, clearly seems affected by Veronica's statement, remembering how awful human being 'he' was. And of course she didn't wanted to be like that, sure, she is aware that she has never been a good person herself, but oh lord, from all the people she can be compared with she doesn't wanted to be related to that crazy psychopath.

"I'm... scared of you..."

Specially not when that is coming from Veronica's lips.

"And I swear to god, Heather, if you start to act like he did, I don't want you near me anymore"

Heather is left alone in her house, hurted and doubtful, thinking about her past decisions and her future.

When did she became like him to begin with? She just wanted to protect Veronica from the people who hurt her, but now, even Veronica is scared of Heather hurting her.

That it's not how it was supposed to be.

She was supposed to be the good one in Veronica's story, not the other way around.

And the worst part is that she isn't even sorry for what she have done, she even was starting plans to kill the other heathers for causing Veronica to go where the jocks were that time.

She wasn't regretful, because they just received what they deserved. Right?

They both are down and hurted, missing each other and hoping that things haven't ended up the way the ended.

Until a few days later, Heather approach Veronica in her house, wanting to make things better.

But not being good with words as she has never been a person who apologies, she prefers to let her actions talk for her.

Holding Veronica closer, Heather remains helpless, for the first time, vulnerable, as she kneels before her.

"Should I also receive what I deserve for killing them, Ronnie? If that is what you want, should I die too as my punishment for trying to be god?"

Heather decided to willingly gives up her life, handing Veronica her gun, ready to get punished with it if that's what the other girl wants for her.

And of course, Veronica is taken aback, horrified at the implications, she doesn't wants Heather to die, let alone kill her, she doesn't want anybody to die.

She only wanted to stop being afraid, she just wanted to cherish Heather, the only person she cares about the most, she wanted to live her seventeen as a normal kid.

Dropping the gun at the floor, that's exactly what she answers. Kneeling in front of Heather to be at the same level as her, taking her hands on her own.

Veronica just wanted Heather to stay by her side.

And if Heather also wants Veronica by her side, why not just do that?

"We can't change the past, and we don't know the future, so why not... stay in the present, just you and me? If you are willing, let's be better... Together..."

Heather doesn't feel like she deserves a happy ending.

"It's not too late for me, Ronnie?"

But Veronica doesn't seems to agree with her.

"It's not if you say yes..."

Heather gave her goddess the choice to take her life in exchange for her sins, and her goddess has given her mercy, a second change to fix the broken, and live not only for her, but with her.

She can't disappoint her, she won't disappoint her.

Mistakes have been made, and shattered she begun to be, but, she is not broken yet.

Her fate may not be falling apart after all.

And she shall spend all her life proving that as a fact to her goddess.

"I will. I chose to be by your side... Always..."

.

.

.

The end?

[bigupsdog]

Intro dialog for every Guilty Gear character day 2: Elphelt

Sol: A Rockstar now eh, ya like Queen?

El: Whoa, that's super retro, you really know your stuff, wait how old are you again?

Ky: Just so you know, no one back at Illyria castle saw you as any kind of burden.

El: I know, but I needed leave, I have to spread my voice.

May: Hay Elphelt, how are your sisters?

El: They're doing great, how are yours, it's alright if this takes a while.

Axl: You ever lose a person ya love?

El: Kind of, he was also a metal singer, but i'm still not really sure if I loved him or if I was told to love him.

Chipp: A rock star? Well I'm a ninja star.

El: The two of us will shine so bright we'll ignite the sky.

Potemkin: I always wanted to learn music, but I would break any instrument I'd get my hands on.

El: Oh no buddy, I'm sure we can make an instrument tough enough to handle your metal.

Faust: Diagnosis… butterflies… in… stomach.

El: Gross, get them out!

Milia: Not all love stories end in happily ever after I'm afraid.

El: Don't worry Millia you'll find the perfect someone someday.

Zato: Love? Is that what I feel when I'm around, her?

El: By her, do you mean, me!?!

Ram: Speothos Venaticus, hmm maybe we should get you a dog of your own.

El: Yes! Yes! Yes! Then your dog and my dog could be boyfriend and girlfriends, eek!

Leo: The castle has definitely been a lot less noisy since you left.

El: You can't scream your heart out in a place like that without someone else screaming at you to quiet down.

Nago: If you hand me that marriage certificate one more time I'll cut it to shreds.

El: Luckily I have hundreds more, so stop playing hard to get.

Gio: Speothos Venaticus? Met a couple of those where I'm from.

El: YOU DID! Tell me all about them and how they're the cutest, best thing in the world!

Anji: I wouldn't exactly say your music is good to dance too.

El: Oh you have to do a specific kind of dance, I think it's called the mosh.

I-No: Music, I prefer to call whatever you're doing, shit.

El: Well you're not very radio friendly.

Goldlewis: Never been much of a fan of metal, ya like county?

El: Nope :) But that's ok we all can like the music we like.

Jack-O: Just took Soooool on a really sappy daaaate.

El: Well don't hold out on me, let me hear all the juicy details.

HC: I've never heard anything like your music before, gotta say I'm a fan.

El: REALLY! If you sign here you can join my fanclub, it currently only has 4 members so seats are open!

Baiken: You're too loud I can barely hear myself think.

El: Oh sorry I'll try to play my new song “The Demons Deadly Wedding from Hell” a little quieter.

Testament: You were almost pupited to kill those you love… I'm happy you managed to avoid that fate.

El: Kliff… I know he loved you more than anything, even after you became a gear.

Bridget: I've heard about a secret energy called “Girl Power” can you teach me how to harness it?

El: My first decipl! I'll teach you everything I know!

Sin: So you decided to leave the castle and march to the beat of your own drum, I can respect that.

El: I'm marching alright and nothing's gonna slow me down, unless I trip.

Delilah: Would you mind quieting down? I'm trying to sleep.

El: I could sing you a death metal lullaby if you want.

Asuka R#: Just to warn you I am an artificial lifeform, but I am nothing like the Universal Will.

El: Just don't force people to do stuff they don't want to do and I guess you're fine.

Asuka R Kreutz: Any advice on being more entertaining for my podcast.

El: It's your lucky day cause you're talking to a girl who's listener count has doubled to 18, we'll get you your fans in no time.

Johnny: Love songs eh, ya got one for me?

El: Of course, and soon I'll have a song for every person on this planet.

ABA: Maybe one day you'll have half my charm and you can get a man half as good as Paracelsus.

El: Ahh thanks ABA, that's really sweet :)

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Laughter Like Music Pt. 2

Series Summary: Y/N and Dean exist in completely different worlds. Can they ever bring them together?

Chapter Summary: It's been 3 years of trying to keep their relationship light and breezy, can they keep it up?

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Chapter Explicit 18+/Warnings: Light smut, kissing, fingering, implied smut, angry!dean, jealous!dean, dean being an asshole, sweet fluffy!dean too though.

Word Count: 4,659

Series Masterlist

A/N:  So, this is the second part of my little prompt mini-series suggested by the beautiful @eevvvaa. You can find the first part above. ⬆️

The 3 prompts from her ask will be in bold.

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

Masterlist ---- Tag Lists

Three Years Later:

Y/N threw down her purse as she entered her front door, kicking off her heels and heading straight to the kitchen for a snack. Work had been long, and she was in desperate need of a pick me up. 

As she reached for the greek yogurt and strawberries, her phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes. She just knew it was going to be her boss asking her to start early the next day. She pulled it out of her jeans pocket and started thinking up plausible excuses. When she saw who the text was actually from, her entire face melted into happiness.

Dean: Hey beautiful. I’m close by, wondering if you’ll be home this evening. I have surprises and I’d like to deliver them in person. 7:00 ish?

Y/N: Surprises? What are they?

Dean: Should I provide you with the definition of a surprise?

Y/N: *pouty face*

Dean: Will you be home?

Y/N: Of course! The door will be open!

Dean: Um, no it won’t! Please don’t tell me that you leave your door unlocked!

Y/N: Only when I’m expecting someone. 🙄

Dean: No, never. Jesus, never leave your door unlocked!

Y/N: Fine! The door will be locked and barricaded! Happy?! Sheesh!

Dean: I’ll bring my battering ram.

Y/N: Dirty! 😘😘

Dean: You’re a little idiot. I’ll be there at 7:00. Or close.

Y/N sent him a heart emoji to finish their conversation, completely unable to wipe the smile from her face. She was so excited he was coming. It had been over a month since she’d seen him. She wondered how long he’d be able to stay this time. She never had any idea. Sometimes he only stayed a few hours, and once he’d stayed for three weeks. 

For the last three years this was the way things had gone between them. Dean would stop by whenever he was in the vicinity, and had a bit of time to kill. As time went on the visits became a bit more frequent, but they were never regular, and they never lasted long enough for her. 

She didn’t know how Dean felt about their situation, because they never talked about it. She never pushed too hard about defining their relationship because she was scared she’d push and he’d run. So, she took what he gave. And as the years went by and she realized that she’d fallen head over heels in love with him, that became harder and harder to do.

But she was so happy when he was there. They had a lot of fun together, laughing and talking, sometimes for hours at a time. Dean still had the ability to crack her up and keep her in stitches. But they never talked about his hunting life. He’d tell her funny anecdotes from his life on the road with Sam, he’d talk about gross motels, or rude staff. But anytime she asked a question directly related to a hunt or about how he spent the majority of his life, he’d quietly steer the conversation in another direction.

It was extremely frustrating at times, but she tried not to let it get to her.

As well as still being able to make her laugh a lot, he also still had the ability to completely melt every molecule in her body when he kissed her or touched her. The sex was still mind-blowing between them, though now Dean knew every inch of her body like the back of his hand, and knew too, just where to press and how to tease to make her shiver and moan, leaving her desperate.

Lately the sex had started to feel more meaningful, as though they were sharing a deeper connection. Y/N shook her head, sure that it was just her overactive imagination. But about six months ago things had seemed to change a bit, after one night in particular.

It had been a very cold and frosty night when she’d been woken out of a doze on the couch by a pounding at her door. She’d rushed to open it, finding Dean standing there, covered in snow, blood, and bruises. She’d gasped when she saw him.

“Dean! Oh my god! What happened?” Her surprise made her voice squeak.

Dean just shook his head, fluffy snowflakes drifting down from his hair. She’d pulled him inside the door and started brushing the snow from his shoulders before she pulled his jacket off and tossed it on the chair by the door. 

She looked up into his face again, making note of the split lip and dark purple bruise on his left cheekbone. Something had hit him so hard there, that the skin had split and dried blood streaked down from the cut. 

She’d never seen the obvious physical damage that hunting caused him before. He kept pretty much everything about the hunting part of his life away from her as much as possible. Though, she still saw the effects at times, in the way nightmares would sometimes wake him up with a shout of fear or pain, or when she’d see his mind float away somewhere dark, storms gathering in his beautiful green eyes.

But outside of a few scuffed knuckles or the few old scars he had on his body, she’d never seen him hurt. Seeing the bruises and blood terrified her and made her want to cry for the pain he must be in. Then she remembered those old scars, and the fact that he’d been battling literal monsters his whole life, and she realized this was likely not the worst he’d ever looked. Probably by a long shot.

And she wanted to cry even more.

But she hadn’t cried, she’d reached her hand up to press against his cheek. “Dean? Baby, what happened?”

He had leaned into her caress, turning his lips to her palm and covering her hand with his. He shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He said in a hoarse whisper.

But he didn’t leave, just pulled her against him and crushed her lips with his own. She’d tasted the metallic coppery tang of the blood from his lip as it split again and she pulled back fearing that she was hurting him. But he grasped her head in his hands and kissed her deeper, making desire, fear and sadness swirl around in her mind.

When he finally pulled back to breathe, she’d tried again to figure out what had happened to bring him there in such a state. 

“Dean, what happened?” A thought occurred to her and she panicked. “Is it Sam? God, is he okay?”

But Dean was quick to nod and flash a brief, unconvincing smile. “Yeah, he’s, Sam is good. He’s good.”

She’d breathed a sigh of relief, but confusion still plagued her. She looked up at him and he finally met her gaze directly so she was able to see the seemingly endless pool of pain and hurt that existed inside him and she couldn’t stop tears from falling then.

He’d shaken his head again, and a tear overflowed from his own eye. “I couldn’t save them. Not any of them.” He held his hands up in front of his chest, open and empty like something had slipped away from him. “They were basically just kids, and I couldn’t…” He trailed off and closed his eyes tightly.

Y/N thumbed away the runaway tear falling over his bruised cheek and reached up to kiss him again, at a complete loss for how to help him. He grabbed onto her like a lifeline, and when she pulled her mouth from his she held his cheeks in her hand, pulling his forehead down to hers. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. What do you need? What…what can I do?”

Dean kissed her, featherlight and whispered against her lips. “You’re doing it.”

That night, she’d just taken him to her bedroom and stripped him and then herself. She’d climbed into bed next to him and held his body as tightly to hers as she could. He’d tried once more to say he shouldn’t be there, that he should go, but she’d shushed him and squeezed him tighter.

The next morning he’d been awkward and obviously embarrassed, apologizing for coming over unannounced like that and “whining about shit.” When she asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he just shook his head and gave her a sad smile. 

“Nah, I’m good sweetheart, think I’ve bitched and moaned to you enough already.” 

When she tried to contradict his reasoning, he just pulled her down to him and kissed her senseless before pinning her down and making her come apart, using only his mouth, a half dozen times. She’d had the sense that it was his way of thanking her, showing her his gratitude. But she couldn’t be sure. 

It was incredible and when he’d left her, later on that day, she was completely sated and exhausted. But it had also made her a little sad that he felt like he owed her something simply for being there for him. 

He'd stayed away over a month after that, ghosting her a bit when she texted. But eventually, he started responding more promptly and started to come back and see her, and he was his usual charming, silly self. 

She hadn’t mentioned the night again.

Now finally, after another month of missing him, he was coming over - with surprises. Plural. She couldn’t wait.

***

“Surprise!” Dean said as Y/N opened the door and he flourished a bouquet of daisies out from behind his back.

Beaming brightly, Y/N squealed a little and took the pretty, delicate flowers out of his hand. “My favorite!”

She stepped back so he could walk through the door. He closed it behind himself and grinned at her. “I know.”

“They’re so beautiful, thank you!” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before turning away. 

But Dean grabbed her free hand to stop her. “Hey where do you think you’re going? I’ve got more, remember?” 

She turned back to him, a huge smile on her face. “I just wanna put them in water.”

“They’ll keep.” 

He pulled her flush against him and dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply and leaving her panting as he pulled away. 

“Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

Y/N frowned at him. “What? What are you talking about?”

A look of mock horror spread over his face. “Ugh. I’m heartbroken that you don’t remember our anniversary. It was exactly three years ago today that I walked into a little police station in Fielding, Nebraska just in time to hear the dulcet tones of this ridiculously hot chick totally telling off this asshole cop.”

Y/N laughed brightly and shook her head. “You remembered?”

“Uh - yeah! How could I forget the day I had the best fucking bathroom sex of my life!”

Y/N laughed lightly but couldn’t stop a small twinge of sadness that he summed up their first meeting, something that had changed her whole life, as simply, incredible bathroom sex. 

But she gave herself a mental shake and told herself she was being stupid. He remembered the exact date they'd met, when she certainly hadn’t, and it really had been INCREDIBLE bathroom sex, so he wasn’t wrong. 

“And not only did I remember and bring flowers,” he held up his forefinger, noting his brownie points, “but - I made reservations at a very nice restaurant.”

Y/N’s squeal of delight was loud enough to make Dean laugh a real laugh, a sound that never failed to make Y/N’s entire being light up like a firefly. It was such a warm, rich, beautiful sound, and it was one she didn’t hear often enough. 

“Oh my god!” She gushed. “I get to put on a fancy dress and get wined and dined?”

Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to offer up the very dirty and rhyming conclusion to the wined and dined expression, but Y/N put her finger to his lips.

“Uh-uh! No!” She scolded. “You naughty boy you!”

Dean’s grin was definitely dirty and full of promises as he reached for her. But she bounded out of his arms.

“I’m putting these in water, and then I’m going to pour myself into something little and black. So, sit.” She ordered, pointing at the couch. 

Dean sighed deeply and obeyed. Half an hour later though, he was up and pacing, and looking at his watch.

“You know, I wasn’t lying. I did make reservations.” He called down the hallway towards Y/N’s bedroom before turning away and folding his arms across his chest.

“You’re such a drama queen.” Y/N said with a smile as she re-entered the living room. 

Dean turned to face her, an argument clearly forming, but all that came out was a puff of air. His eyes got round and then his face fell into a deep frown. 

Y/N looked down at the sleek black, sleeveless dress she was wearing. “What?” She asked, trying to see what was causing the frown. “What?” 

Dean took a couple of steps towards her. “Holy Shit!”

Y/N was panicked now as she twisted around to try and see the back of her, thinking maybe she had something stuck to her heel, or was there a tag she missed?

Dean walked slowly to stand in front of her. As she looked up at him, confused, his frown melted into a look of awe. “Incredible.” He said with a shake of his head. “You look incredible.”

Y/N felt herself blush even as relief made her laugh lightly. “Oh, well, thank you. I’m glad you like it cause it took quite a bit to get into this little thing.”

Dean’s hand shot out and clamped around her waist, tugging her roughly against his chest, and his lips lowered to hers. “Well, lemme help you out of it.” He mumbled gruffly against her lips before sweeping his tongue into the recesses of her mouth, pulling a dark moan from her throat.

But she pushed against his arms and pulled out of the kiss with a smile and a wagging finger. “No way, Mr. Winchester. You promised me wining and dining first.”

***

A few hours later they stumbled back through Y/N’s door, laughing and grasping each other. As Y/N turned the bolt on the door, Dean leaned back against it, slouching slightly and pulling her close to him. He chuckled as he rested his hands on the swell of her hips, letting his lips find the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Are you drunk?” He asked her with a smile in his voice. “Should I not be taking advantage?”

Y/N laughed and then moaned as he nibbled on her skin and dug his hard, blunt fingertips into her fleshy hips.

“No,” she said breathlessly, “not drunk.” She pulled his face up to look him in the eye. “Just happy.”

A bright, warm smile softened his features and he gave her a brief nod. “Good.”

A gamine grin crossed her expression and she looked up at him coyly. “So go ahead and take all the advantages you want.”

With a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, he placed a kiss just below the corner of her jaw, forcing her head back as she sighed with pleasure. 

“Thank god!” He said against her skin. “Cause, as beautiful as you look, all I want to do is rip this dress off, right now.”

He moved his hands to grab and pinch the globes of her ass right along with the dress material. Y/N squeaked but then put up a finger. “Uh uh.” She shook her head, and then whispered up at him. “Don’t rip it.”

“K.” He said letting go of her with a smile. He turned her slowly to face away from him, and reached for her zipper. In an agonizingly slow move, he pulled the zipper down till her back was bare and exposed. The dress was designed with a bra built into the bodice, so there was nothing to impede his fingertips as they trailed ever so gently down her back. Gooseflesh spread across her skin and when he put his lips to the nape of her neck, a deep shiver wracked her body.

He continued to trail his mouth over her shoulder blades before pushing the sleeveless sheath dress off her shoulders, leaving her in only panties. A little instinctively, Y/N brought her two arms together in front of herself to shield her nakedness, but Dean wasn’t having it.

He straightened up so that she could feel him towering behind her, before he grabbed hold of her wrists and yanked her hands down to her side. Giving them a squeeze, which she knew meant to keep them there, he moved his hands back up her torso. 

One hand moved to her throat to wrap around it gently but completely, while the other hand pushed down the front of her panties. As he dipped the tips of his fingers into her slick heat, he dropped his mouth to the side of her neck. With his big hand wrapped around her throat he easily pulled her head to the side so he had full access to the long column of her neck. 

He began sucking and biting the delicate skin there, while his fingers plucked and pressed at the hard little button at her center. She felt like her body was being pulled tight between heated tension and bliss. Dean intensified the pleasure by slipping two long, thick fingers inside of her and pressing repeatedly on the soft spongy spot that he found so easily.

Within minutes, she was convulsing against him, and squeezing her thighs tight around his hand as he continued to work her through her climax. 

As it ebbed away, Dean scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. “That was only number one.” He promised.

Hours later, Y/N was cuddled into Dean’s side and relishing the supreme joy she found in feeling his bare skin, damp and hot against hers, as they cooled down. She was never more content and never felt more safe than when she laid like this with him.

She ran her hand absent-mindedly over the tattoo that sat just below his left collarbone. She’d asked him one time what it meant, but he’d just shrugged and said it was “part of the job”, and she’d understood it had to do with hunting, so he wasn’t going to talk about it. 

She glanced up at his face, supremely relaxed now, his eyes closed and a small smile tipping up the corners of his lips. She knew he wasn’t sleeping because his fingers were tracing loops across her back. 

She found herself desperate to ask him what he was thinking about right now. Most of the time she couldn’t manage to figure out what went on behind those perfect features. She wanted to know if this time between them had felt as different to him as it had to her. 

This time didn’t feel like sex, it felt like lovemaking. 

Every sweep of Dean’s hand had been a warm caress, every kiss had seemed charged with intimacy, stronger than mere sex, more than pleasure; in Y/N’s mind it felt like Dean was trying to maybe…show her his feelings. She pushed the thought away as silliness, he was simply a VERY good lover.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling and she thought maybe tonight would be the time to ask him about how he saw their relationship, and what he saw in the future. The thought terrified her, and she distracted herself from the idea by groaning softly and starting to get up.

But as she tried to rise she felt Dean’s arm tighten around her ribcage. “No.” He said gruffly and pulled her back on top of his chest. 

She laughed lightly and gave his shoulder a gentle slap. “I need water, you goof. You’ve left me thoroughly dehydrated.”

A cocky smile bloomed on Dean’s face. With his eyes still closed, he licked his lips and then let her up. “Fine, hurry back.”

She kissed him quickly and then bounded out of the bed as fast as her spent muscles would let her, grabbing up Dean’s t-shirt to throw over her naked torso. 

She ran to the washroom before hitting up the kitchen for two glasses of water and some of the strawberries she’d cut up earlier. She was gone no more than ten minutes, but it was enough time to unravel everything.

She came back into the bedroom, with her hands full.  “I got you some water too, and I thought we could use some food to replenish ourselves for…”

She trailed off at the look on Dean’s face; something in his expression gave her a warning. He was up, and standing by her dresser, with his jeans on unbuttoned.

She shook her head. “Dean, what's wrong?” She gestured to his jeans. “Are you leaving?”

He pursed his lips and looked at the ground, shaking his head. “No, I had to text Sam, didn’t wanna walk around naked.”

Trying to pull the atmosphere back to the soft, dreamy state that had existed before she left, she smiled and teased him. “Well, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His face spasmed in a horrible imitation of his usual sunshine smile, and Y/N gave up. She sighed. “What’s wrong, Dean? Did Sam say something, do you have a case?” Her heart squeezed at the idea of him leaving again so soon.

But he shook his head. “N’ah, I’m fine. I’m good.” He looked up at her and she finally realized he wasn't upset or worried, he was angry. She’d never seen him angry before. Annoyed? Yes. Grumpy? Absolutely. But never anger like she could see now, burning in his emerald-hued eyes. 

“Let’s talk about you. How are you doing?” He asked in a brittle voice.

Y/N frowned at him as she sat the strawberries and water down on her desk. “I’m…good.” She said, frustrated that he wouldn’t just explain what had brought on this change. 

“Yeah, good?” He asked. “Are you, uh, seeing anyone? Or you know, dating, or uh, fucking any other guys?”

She felt like ice water had been dumped on her and her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” She asked in disbelief.

When Dean just stared at her, his expression thunderous, she threw her hands up. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but no. No, I am not ‘dating’ anyone.” She said, using finger quotes.

The muscle in Dean’s jaw jumped wildly as he clenched his jaw hard, his next words coming out through gritted teeth, spoken quietly.

“Don’t lie to me.” He warned as he held up a small rectangular card.

Y/N squinted at it for a few seconds before she realized what it was, a card from a flower shop that had accompanied a half dozen tulips. The card read: Thanks for last night. Had a great time, let’s do it again.

Her eyes widened and anger and slight embarrassment flooded into her. “You’ve been snooping around my bedroom?”

Dean scoffed. “I wasn’t snooping. I was looking at the picture on your dresser and it was sitting right there. Out in the open.” His voice filled with anger again. “Like you wanted to get caught.”

Y/N barked out a humorless laugh. “Caught? Caught?” She ripped the card out of Dean’s hand and threw it back onto the dresser. “Caught doing what exactly?”

She crossed her arms over her chest tightly like a shield against the frustration that wanted to come pouring out. “Caught going on a shitty blind date that my boss set up with her fucking nephew? I didn’t wanna be rude, so I went, we ate bad food, he walked me home and I said goodnight. That was it.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief again, pointing towards the card on the dresser. “Obviously not for him! ‘Let’s do it again’ sounds like he got something from you and he was looking forward to getting it again. You gonna try and tell me you didn’t fuck him?” 

Y/N’s palm cracked across Dean’s cheek, the sound echoing around the silent room. He kept his head turned away from her for a moment before turning back to continue giving her the same harsh, angry, accusing stare.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she would have given anything to not cry, but she couldn’t help it. She was so angry and hurt, she just wanted to scream. But she forced her voice into an extreme, deadly calm as she spoke past the lump in her throat.

“How dare you?” Her voice rose slightly as she asked again. “How DARE you? You have no right trying to lay some kind of guilt trip on me, Dean Winchester. You disappear for months at a time, you give me no warnings you’re gonna show up, no promises on when you might be back.”

She balled her hands into fists to stop from hitting him again. “You saunter in and out of my life, and yet you have the audacity to stand here questioning my faithfulness? Faithfulness to what? You don’t give me anything! I know next to nothing about your real life. You won’t include me, you won’t talk to me. Tell me about what happens in your life as a hunter; tell me about the bad things.”

Desperation had her reaching her arms out towards him, but he took a step back from her embrace and her heart cracked.

Dean shook his head and his voice was hard as stone when he spoke. “You don’t want that shit, Y/N. I don’t wanna talk to you about it, I don’t wanna tell you-”

He cut himself off, resuming his silence and seething and Y/N threw up her arms and turned the tables on him. “So, what about you? What am I supposed to think about you?” 

She swallowed hard and continued in a quieter voice. “I have never asked you-” She swallowed again. “I’ve never asked you, because, quite frankly, I don’t want to know. But, I mean, how many women do you have, just like me, scattered across the country? How many other women do you share your life with? Do you actually share your life with them? Your real life? Are they other hunters, ones that you’ll allow into your world? Or are they all just like me? Women you can just roll up on, to wine and dine.”

Y/N saw a brief flash of hurt cross Dean’s face as she referenced their evening together and his gifts and she instantly wanted to take back the hurt, but her pride and anger wouldn’t let her. The hurt in her heart was aching and she needed to expel it.

“What are we doing here, Dean? What is the point of this? What does it even mean? If you won’t let me into your life, why…I mean, then we don’t have anything.”

Dean’s expression was cold as ice and full of stark anger. The silence was screaming with his unspoken words, but finally he simply walked past her and grabbed up the black and red flannel that she’d ripped off of him earlier.

She turned to watch him walk to the doorway where he paused to speak quietly.

“No, you’re right. This is nothing.”

He stormed away from her and as she heard the door slam behind him, she covered her mouth and sank slowly to the floor like she was melting. She tried to stop the sobs from welling up inside her but she couldn’t. The pain was sharp, real, and devastating.

She wasn’t sure how to get up again.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @saikosheadcanons @lgranger67 @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

[animentality]

BG3 (and you) have broken me down enough that I want to play it. The most of the specs on my computer are good enough to play it (16 GB RAM, 700GB storage, i7 processor) but I don’t have an independent graphics card (Intel Iris XE) My graphics card can use up to 8GB of shared memory and the game only requires 8GB RAM and 4GB VRAM even though 16GB RAM and 8GB VRAM are recommended

I tried looking up if it would work and results were mixed. Some said it ran, some said it kept crashing, and most gamers said it wouldn’t work. I’m guessing the ones that work have at least 16 GB RAM so 4-8 can be dedicated to the graphics with still having at least 8 while the ones that don’t work have 8–12 GB RAM so it dips below 8 at times of intense graphics and crashes

Dear user, do you think it’s worth me getting a game that may not play (and will probably take me months to play since working is hard) on my computer or should I continue to silence my intrigue or do you have another solution

(my roommate suggested getting it on Xbox but I’m not playing it where they can just walk through. We’re both ace and while I’m sex favorable and enjoy smutty things, they are only comfortable with dirty jokes)

Wrong person to ask about technical issues! I don't know much on that end.

All I can say is that BG3 is a lot of fun, and I definitely recommend it, but if your computer can't handle it, then definitely just watch a playthrough instead of buying it!

I would honestly recommend getting it on Xbox and just tell them when you're going to be playing it, lol, and tell them they need either go or stay and get weird :P

Playstation is better for running games like BG3, I think. PC gets too complicated, especially if you don't have one that you think can handle it.

I have a decent PC and I still get crashes every damn hotfix!

[hylias-library]

Hello hello! Of course you can!

Since you haven't specified I'll keep the reader gender neutral ^^ I hope you like what I whipped up!

[Navigation] [Part 2]

You hadn’t even noticed someone was following you until it was already too late.

It was a long day, packed with fighting monsters of varying degrees of difficulty and you and the chain were tired.

Your next point of interest was a nearby inn, the champion had found it on his sheikah slate.

Having fallen back more and more, you slowly ended up at the rear end of your party. Thoughts already preoccupied with the idea of a warm bed to sleep in for a change.

The chain was already a bit further away when a rough hand placed itself over your mouth to prevent you from calling out, dragging you backwards into the darkness of the forest.

Trying to break free, you kept struggling against the strong arms around you, ending up biting the hand that held your mouth shut, drawing blood in the process.

A hiss sounded from behind you and you were pushed to the ground with a menacing growl.

A deep, smooth voice followed.

"Oh, so I've gotten my hands on a feisty one. I like a good challenge."

You coughed, getting back on your feet, wiping the blood in the corner of your lips away with the back of your hand.

As soon as your eyes could focus on your opponent, you froze. "Who... are you...?"

He was the splitting image of Time. Only darker, almost like a shadow.

He smirked, mocking you by bowing deeply. "Please excuse my rudeness. The name's Dark Link. At your service."

A silent gasp escaped you but you quickly composed yourself again. Right now, it was most important to not show fear. Slowly your hands inched towards your sword and shield, before Dark Links voice put a halt to your movements.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Let’s play nice, shall we?”

You snorted. “You don’t play nice. We both know that.”

A dark chuckle followed your answer. “What can I say? It’s boring to play by the rules.”

You didn’t take your eyes off him for even a split second. Link had told you how dangerous this creature was, having fought him before. Exactly in his likeness, skills equally matched.

Dark Link circled around you like a predator circled his prey as he kept talking. “You see. I was aiming for the small one, a child should be easy to get rid of. But since you were stupid enough to fall to the back?... You’ll do just as well.”

With each step he spiraled closer to you, your blood boiling by now. He wanted to hurt the little sailor. Wind was like a younger brother to you. You’d make sure this monster wouldn’t come near him.

“I must admit though, that pathetic excuse of a hero sure has taste to keep a pretty one like you around.”

Dark Link was just inches from you by now, his hand stroking along your jaw, in an almost loving manner.

This was your chance right now; you only hoped your plan would work.

Moving quickly, you grabbed an arrow from the quiver on your hip and rammed it into the shadows hand, making him take a few steps back, as you inhaled deeply and screamed at the top of your lungs.

“LIIIIIINK!”

You could only hope to the gods above that they heard you.

The demon stared at you with fury filled eyes, pulling the arrow out of his hand and getting his sword and shield ready with a wicked smile on his lips. “You shouldn’t have done that…”

Quicker than you could get your weapons out, he charged at you, your only chance to back away, his sword barely scraping your cheek, drawing blood in the process.

“I'm not that easy to kill, Demon.”

This was NOT like the sparring sessions you’ve had with Time.

You managed to get out your shield, blocking yet another attack as Dark Links blade collided with your shields surface, shaking you to the core with the brute force he was using.

Yep definitely not like sparring with Time. Had he always held back this much strength?

You wouldn’t stand a chance and you knew it, just as well as he did.

“What’s wrong, little mouse? Cat got your tongue?”

Another swing to your shield threw you off balance, back colliding painfully with the ground. The air got knocked out of your lungs and you had trouble to breathe again.

You weren’t prepared for Dark Links next attack and closed your eyes, positive that this was it for you.

But the deadly blow never came.

Replaced with a clash of metal against metal.

You released a breath you didn’t know you held.

Time.

he had heard you.

Thank the gods he had heard your cry, shield facing forward, his back turned to you.

“Why don’t you play with someone your own size, Dark?”

The shadow, hummed in fake sadness. “You always have to ruin my fun. I bet their blood would have looked beautiful spilled on the ground.”

Time growled. “You better watch your tongue in front of me, or you’ll regret it.”

The answer he received was a malicious laugh. “We’ll see about that.” With a swift move of his wrist, Dark Link threw a knife forward, but it missed Time by a few inches.

“You should work on your aim.”

The demon smirked. “I wasn’t aiming at you.”

Shortly after, your cry of pain echoed through the area, letting Times blood freeze. He couldn’t turn around to check on you and that damned shadow knew it.

Your cries let his heart drop down to his stomach. He desperately wanted to check if you were ok but he couldn’t.

The knife now embedded in your side made tears spill down your cheeks. “Link, it hurts….”

“I know!” It pained him to hear your voice tremble like this. “I know. Don't pull it out. Hold on a little longer, I’ll finish this quickly.”

His evil twin snarled. “Don’t be so sure about that, you son of a Moblin.”

Not a second later, Time rushed towards Dark Link, clashing blades with a force that shook the ground beneath them.

The hero saw red.

This bastard had hurt you, made you cry. Made you bleed.

And Time would make sure this creature would regret ever having laid a finger on you.

The longer the fight went on the more Time got annoyed. Each attack got countered, even mocked by landing on his blade only fueling the heros rage. On top of that he had to stop any attacks from going your way again.

But he had fought against his shadow once and won, and he’d be victorious this time as well.

Times mind went into overdrive. He had to think of a strategy to win this as quick as possible. He had to get you to the traveler to get that damned knife out of your body, get you healed.

He just needed one second. One moment to distract Dark Link and deal the final blow so he could get you to safety.

He ducked underneath a sword swing, using the momentum to try and kick out the shadow’s legs, bring him off balance, and yet again, his attacks got avoided.

Dark Link snickered. “Are you done soon, Hero? I’m getting quite bored over here.” Soon enough the shadows eyes went wide as an arrow flew past his head.

This was the chance Time had been waiting for, the rest of the party must have found him and provided backup. Quickly he spun around and let his blade connect to his evil twin’s side, bringing him to his knees, wounding him fatally.

He snarled at Time, who was ready to give the final blow. “Don’t think this is over yet. I’ll come back and murder your precious companion slowly and painfully while you have to watch them take their last pathetic breath.”

And the moment Times blade thrust through Dark Links chest, he vanished into a cloud of black smoke.

Relieved the hero turned around “Took you lot long enough…” his words got stuck in his throat.

What greeted him wasn’t the group, but you. On wobbly legs with a bow in hand and the demons knife still stuck in your side, soaking your tunic and already part of your pants in red.

You stumbled a bit forward. “Link… you came for me.”

He rushed to your side when your legs gave out, bringing you into a tight embrace. You whimpered when the handle of the knife brushed against Times armor. He loosened his hold on you instantly, as if he burned himself. “I’m sorry… I’ve got you. It's alright. It's ok."

He helped you towards a tree and gently placed you down, each time you whimpered of the pain let his heart break a little more. Brushing a hand against your face his gaze sought yours. “Listen to me, ok? You’re safe now, he’s gone. I’m here. I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

You visibly relaxed against his touch. “Link...”

“It’s okay.” Time smiled sadly after hearing you call his name, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’m here. I’ll bring you to the traveler. He’ll heal you.”

His eyes wandered to the blade; brows knit together in great concern. “We can’t pull out the knife until we have a red potion ready. Do you think you can handle being carried?”

Taking a shaky breath, you glanced down and then back up to Time, forcing a pained smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Slowly Time slid his arms underneath your form, lifting you up princess style, as gently as possible. But as careful as he was, you couldn’t hide how much being moved hurt.

“Shhh. You’re doing great.” He stepped back towards the way he came from, while you held onto his shoulders for support. "I'm proud of you for holding on until I arrived."

It took a few minutes until you got somewhat used to being moved, face still contorted in pain, but you were alive and that was all that mattered right now. Words couldn’t describe how thankful you were. Smiling at Time, you placed a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for finding me. My Hero.”

His worried gaze softened when he looked back down to you, nodding as a response.

In the far distance you could make out the silhouettes and shouts of the rest of the group sprinting your way.

Everything would be fine now.

[goldenboygate]

carlando headcanon that i really want to turn into a fic. cw for drugs/alcohol

Lando is in his early 20s and flunking out of college because of a drinking problem. He’s been going off the rails throughout his childhood but always manages to hide it well enough to at least function in society, well, until he doesn’t.

His mother threatens to cut him off, tough love and all that, so he decides to go into rehab. But he’s scared about what happens after rehab. How is he gonna be able to function when he’s back in the real world and has to start taking care of himself again?

He wants to take this seriously, so he gets into a sober living arrangement. A group home for adults who have finished rehab but are either) not ready to live alone/go out into the real world, or b) are on probation and have to stay there

It sucks, or that’s Lando’s first thought, at least. The people there are weird, and most of them are so much older, and a lot of them are drug addicts. Lando never did drugs, and he kinda looks down his nose at them.

There’s this one guy, though, who definitely doesn’t look like he belongs there. He’s cute, no scratch that, he’s hot and kinda aloof, which makes Lando want to get to know him more.

But Lando has a boyfriend out in the real world who is waiting for him, so he’s def not interested in anything more with this hot, aloof guy.

And, plus, relationships between housemates are forbidden.

Lando manages to break down the walls that hot, aloof guy has set up. turns out his name is Carlos.

Carlos is recovering drug addict, pills, powder, you name it. He's also on probation for stealing and destroying his boss' car in a drug-induced rage after he was reprimanded at work.

He's incredibly remorseful and wants to do everything to make things right. that included breaking up with his drug-addicted girlfriend before he went to rehab.

The thing is that Lando makes it incredibly difficult for Carlos to keep a distance and keep his heart safely tucked away. Everything Lando does makes Carlos' heart either flutter or race.

Carlos is older, in his late twenties, and he's basically been a functioning addict for a long time until he isn't. until his girlfriend gets addicted to heroin, and he does all that he can to stay with her during that time, even if it means being off his face. Their co-dependency is toxic, and he knows it. He never shoots up, though. There's something stopping him from doing that, this voice in the back of his head that sounds like his mom.

One day, he shows up wasted to work. there's a big corporate thing that day, and he embarrasses both himself and the company he works for.

it's the first time he's ever done something like that, and everyone is shocked. his boss really likes him, he's a good worker, a good human being, and so he only reprimands him. he should be let go, realistically and according to company policy, but his boss just can't do that. Not to Carlos.

Carlos goes home that evening and feels so much remorse, that is until his girlfriend gets into his head, telling him that he doesn't deserve what happened, that this was unfair on him, on her as well because he's gonna lose his bonus this year, and who's gonna take care of her then? She can find somebody else if Carlos isn't man enough to do that.

It fucks with his head and he gets angry. not angry at his gf but angry at his boss. His millionaire boss who owns a penthouse suite and drives a Ferrari. Carlos feels like he deserves more. He deserves that Ferrari.

So the next day, in broad daylight, he smashes the window to the Ferrari as it sits in the executive parking space, manages to jumpstart it (a bad idea since it fries the electronic systems) and barely manages to drive it out into the streets before he's being rammed into by another car.

He's fired.

Carlos gets off with probation since it's his first offence, but he has to complete a 9-month rehab stay and then live in the sober house for a year.

So it's safe to say that Carlos has been burned and doesn't need any more empty smiles and dead eyes to fall in love with. Except Lando is the opposite of that. He's excitable like a puppy, earnest and loving and cares so much about others, too much even. So yeah, Carlos falls in love with Lando, probably even before Lando falls in love with Carlos. But there are still a couple of things.

Dating in the sober house is not allowed. Not under any circumstances. The worst thing an addict can do is start a relationship while in recovery. And Carlos needs to take his recovery seriously.

There's also the slight problem of Lando's boyfriend, Daniel.

Daniel, the party boy, who keeps trying to tempt Lando with alcohol. He visits him with vodka in a water bottle or jellos that have been soaked in liquor. "Lando treats" he calls them, but Lando doesn't ever take any. But he's not strong enough to push him away, to tell him to stop. and it's not Carlos' place to do it.

And then there's Carlos' ex, who finally decides to get her life back together only to show up at the same sober house two months into Lando's stay there, and Lando feels nothing but jealousy coursing through his veins as he sees the bond between her and Carlos.

How could Carlos ever want him? He doesn't act like that around Lando. He doesn't have a special smile just for him. It's a game that Lando isn't quite sure he's ready to play. He's not sure he can withstand the pain.

Carlos' ex-girlfriend can't function sober, and she ends up leaving. If you leave, you can't come back, and Carlos frantically tries to search for her so that she can get a second chance. Lando comes with him, and they find her where she and Carlos used to live together, and she's too far gone, strung out again. Carlos realises he has to let her go for the last time. He can't keep saving her, but it really fucks with his head, so he pushes Lando away.

He pushes Lando back into Daniel's arms, and that's kind of dangerous cause, stupidly, Lando has attached his sobriety to Carlos, and if Carlos doesn't even want him sober, then what's the point?

Lando almost breaks his sobriety as he goes to a party with Daniel, but he calls Carlos instead, who comes and helps him from the situation. Lando cuts all ties with Daniel in the process.

But that's when they realise that they can't happen. It's too much of a risk loving someone who is in the throes of addiction. Lando asks to be transferred to a different sober house. He needs to take his sobriety seriously, and he can't be a burden on Carlos anymore.

He can't be the reason that Carlos fails. He would never forgive himself.

Lando was only supposed to be there for six months, and he's already done four, and when he moved in, Carlos was on month six.

So they're getting out into the real world at the same time. Lando six months sober, and Carlos 12 months sober.

It's a risk

But it's a risk they're willing to take.

They meet on the day Lando moves out from the sober house and exchange sobriety chips. Six months for Lando and 1 year for Carlos.

They promise to be each other's keepers and to love and honour their relationship. It's difficult, especially when Lando goes back to university with temptations all around, but every time he feels himself about to misstep, he calls Carlos. His one true north that guides him back on the straights. And then, after a long and hard day, he comes home to Carlos, who is working from home, and falls into his arms, and that's all the high either of them ever needs.

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

Danny’s Coronation

This post has been absolutely RAVAGING my brain ever since I read it, so have some writing I did in a coffe induced trance :) please tell me if anything seems off or misspelled :P TW FOR BODY HORROR OH RIGHT AND CREDIT TO @madametamma

Danny floated above the shiny floors of the room he didn't even know was in his castle. It was just him, the (peaceful) ancients, and a few observers. It was finally his coronation, and he had expected a party, a huge feast, some announcement, hell even skulker showing up for some bs battle, but none of that happened. Instead, all he got was some ancients, observers, and a weird dungeon-looking room. Whatever, the quieter, the better. He wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying (even though he probably definitely should be). Once the eye-bitch stopped talking, he "stared" at Danny expectantly. Danny, catching on only an awkward moment too late, bowed down, his hands held at his side as the observer lowered the crown to his head.

"DANNY, NO!" Jazz's voice sounded off behind him. He went to turn around, a response on the tip of his tongue.

But then he felt it.

Power

Pain

His death

Fear

Pain

Fear

Pain

Pain

PainPainP̴̧̲̍͗̏́̌̕͝ą̴̡͎͚͚̰̻͂͐̋̀̽̒̇͘͝ͅȋ̸͈͑̊̈́͒̏͘͝n̸̞͎̗͕̉̂͜͜p̷͇͔̥͚̠͈̺̪̲͔̈́̀͂̀̃̾ạ̵̅͊͐͒͆͛͝i̵̺͍̮̳͇̟̞͚̔̂̑̐̑̚͜n̵̡̼̼̰̻̖̪͓͐͜p̶̝̘̩͔̖̠͘A̶̦͙̋̂͗͌̇̿̿̅̎I̷̧͎̼̜̜͔̟͕̥̣̋̓̃̌̄̾͛̽̀̿N̶͖̘̻͍̻͈̪͓͗͜P̵̧̺̣̞̣͖̣͍̠͆͑̆͗̃͆͆̅̒̉̎̈́͝A̴̛̻͓̲̭͜I̵̻͓̓͗̓̀̈́͂̀͒̽̐̈́͘͠N̵̤̬͔̰̰̎̓̇P̶̻̃̌̽͆̿͐̽̓͝Å̷͉͚͖̋͌I̷̧̨̭͙̟̺͎̓N̵̫̖̟̘͌̔̑͌̃̋̓̈́̏͌̓͝͠

The power of the entire Infinite Realms ripping through him again

He couldn't hear his screams- just like that day- but he felt the way crazed laughs flooded his body, shaking his shoulders. Thick wet tears fell from his eyes, his claws hands ripping at his face, trying to get the pain to just go away. Danny's eyes rolled back into his head moments before his body floated higher, his legs forming again against his control. Everything happened all at once, Danny's bones creaked and snapped, breaking and dissolving under his own skin. His body became sickly translucent, showing through him almost like a fogged-up snow globe. His fingers grew, sharpening into claws sharp enough to put Gordan Ramsey's kitchen knives to shame. They took on a horrifying ice white at the tips, complimenting the deep red of the ring of rage horrifyingly well, fading into the nothingness that was the rest of his 'body'.

Danny's skull snapped, making horrifying crunching and cracking noises as his face blended, reshaped, moved, erased. Two large horns ripped through his skin like paper, pouring ectoplasm-green blood down his face in waves, immediately stitching the skin back up once the horns finished growing to their full ram-size. Danny’s facial features melted away into the translucent darkness of his skin, though his eyes got bigger, eyelids receding into his skin like the rest of his features. His eyes glowed fully green, a color that would haunt anyone's dreams. His ears stretched and pulled, lengthening into the pointed ears humans could never have. All his scars blew up in bright green, the Lichtenburg scar running throughout his body and over his face, over his heart, growing the brightest of them all.

Danny's legs melted- actually melted- in big globs into the floor, staining and burning it as if Danny's ectoplasm had been acidic. The translucent state the rest of his body had taken over spread throughout his wispy lower half, though now turning into a galaxy even the Ancients were unaware of, gorgeous blues, greens, purples, blacks, and all the other colors floated throughout him as he turned and shifted, as if he was a glimpse into the universe just out of their grasp.

The worst thing, though? The worst thing was the way the skin on his chest pushed and pulled. The way it bubbled inside him like a chemical reaction. The way thorns and stems pushed their way through his skin. The way the stems made easy work of his skin as if it wasn't there. The way his neon green blood splattered all over his sister's face. The way the flowers budded, bloomed, died, and decayed in a matter of seconds. The way the dead flowers light up in green flames before falling away as ash and getting replaced by new ones. The way blood easily poured out of his body in waves. The blue flowers and their ink-black stems slowed growing until they came to a complete stop, their home in Dannys chest cavity wrapping around his neck like a collar.

Everything stopped, finally. It only lasted for a moment, though, as large heavy chains broke from the floors, wrapping around Dannys arms and body, even going so far as to wrap around his throat. a strangled cry left danny as he was pulled to the floor, now clearly trapped. He pulled and tugged and twisted and ripped- but he was stuck. Stuck and utterly, unbelievably, truly, helpless.

Now, the tears came from Clockwork, standing near. All the other ancients have already started crying, though Frostbite also had to hold a sobbing Jazz to him. Jazz had started screaming and crying for her baby brother the moment Danny started shifting. Started changing. What was she supposed to do, just sit there? Just sit there and stand by while her brother screamed in pain the same way he screamed the day he died? Stand there and do nothing as her brother became less than human by the second? Stand by while his bones broke and dissolved? Stand there as his bitter green blood splattered across her face? Stand there as she watched the little brother she raised practically by herself died?

A content yet annoyed huff was heard from the observants.

"He survives. Congratulations. Long live the king"

[graviditatismasculino]

Scenario:

You're pathetic aren't you? How else could you not be? You have a huge belly in the way that makes hard to even reach yourself to the parts of you that are begging to be touched. Constantly throbbing and aching, you don't know how long it's been since you've gotten off. The person who put you in this position won't even touch you now, much rather enjoying seeing you struggle to get any contact in any way you can. Blankets? Pillows? Hardly firm enough. Bed post? Too tall for a pregnant person, and too much effort to be standing up that long without proper support for someone your size. The showerhead was your next best option but even that wasn't enough since you wanted something deep inside you to push back up the pressure deep inside. Still no matter how much you pleaded to the point of tears, the parent of your baby would laugh and shake their head.

They'd cup your face and say, "You look so good all needy and desparate."

How cruel of them. However it made you all the more horny when they watched you. Which was often lying on your back now, moaning feebly having given up on any sort of relief.

Until the pressure suddenly amplified one day and you were on your hands and knees, body straining to push with each contraction. But now you were more desperate than ever, wanting any stimulation besides what was slip- no taking its damned time to come out of you! You cried and called for them, aching in a way that wasn't just from your labor. They strode in on you, your face pressed into the bed, sobbing and body trembling. They must have felt enough pity for you to open their jeans and pull your long shirt from up over your ass.

Your body quivered in anticipation as their bulge nearly brushed your swollen lips.

"You're doing such a bad job sweetheart. It's really jammed in there." You felt their palm touch your ass, caressing it as it was burning feverishly red.

"I'll help. You deserve it this once. Your orgasm should help unwedge it." You nearly lost all strength from that. Finally. Finally. You wept gratefully and pushed your hips back against them. Your sensitive spots brushing the zipper of their pants and you gasped, rocking your hips more but they held your waist, keeping you in place. "Let's not get carried away yet." They warned.

"S-sorry."

They positioned themself, pushing inside. Your body eagerly took them in as if it had been starving for months. They grunted, gritting their teeth. They took a moment to adjust to you.

Then. Oh.

Oh God.

They rammed their hips into you, making you yelp and moan all at once, shocked and overwhelmed from it all. Involuntarily you started to sob again and buried your face into your elbow as they rammed into you again and again, dominating your body - it felt like it was some sort of reminder on how to behave or punishment. Nonetheless, your body took every stroke and it wasn't long before you climaxed and your brain became mush.

They tsk'd at you, seeing your state before unleashing more of their load into you.

They fell over your back and lazily kissed your shoulder and neck.

"It's coming." They said with a tired laugh.

This is the fucking DREAM, being a constantly horny pathetic mess that can't come. My cunt always wet and my body always ready for anything. I'd definitely be grinding against any surface I thought would work just desperately trying to cum.

Then when I'm laboring, being allowed to cum would make me feel like I was in heaven, 9 months of what is basically edging and I'm cumming hard enough to squirt. I'd be nothing but a dumb clock sleeve for them after too, excited for a repeat.

[cambria-writes]

i did it. it's finally done. it's over, and i finished it.

thank you so much to everyone who's followed me and this story, who's commented, liked and reblogged. you've all helped give me back something i had lost a long time ago: the ability to write.

i'm so thankful to have found this fandom and the people in it, and i wouldn't change a single thing about the journey that was writing Ravenloft.

some things to know about this chapter:

i only discovered literally two days ago that july 1st is not, in fact, universal moving day. that's apparently something very unique to my part of canada lol, so that's why i had the moving take place that day. might not have even registered for anyone else but me but i felt like i should explain that just in case.

additionally, i don't know fuckall about indiana, never been. the market place arena is no longer there, either, so it took a bit of guesswork to figure out what to do. thank you to @bramblequill for answering my very strange questions. ♥

lastly, i have no idea how school works in the states. i just went with september 2nd as back to school since it was the tuesday right after labour day, and the internet told me that 8:30am as a starting time for classes was reasonable so there we go.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: E, 18+ warnings: SMUT, female anatomy used but otherwise no real physical description, fingering, masturbation (m and f), cum swallowing, so much swearing, Wayne calls Eddie son and reader calls Wayne his father, smoking (cigarettes and weed), alcohol consumption, vague reference to choking, mention of flagging/the hanky code, Eddie doesn't whip out the sadism though, mention of using handcuffs, i guess this is semi-public sex actually, Eddie's a gentleman though, mention of an alternate timeline where Eddie does die, mention of death broadly, reader has anxious responses to shit sometimes, Good Girl is said a few times, god I'm running out of brain RAM please let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 7,512

thank you again!!

Previous Masterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

July 2nd, 19863:27AM

You don’t know where you are when you first wake up. There are no lights on, there’s a familiar but distant sound, and it’s too fucking warm. After a few seconds of tensely paying attention, you realize that the familiar sound is the compressor in the fridge.

Right. You moved yesterday.

When you bother to open your eyes and look around, you realize why it’s so dark. You never bothered to plug in your alarm clock and you can’t see the time on the stove from here, but it’s definitely still night. Quiet enough that it’s probably not even 4am yet.

You roll to turn around, but promptly end up yelping and falling right on your ass. The vague but bitter thought crosses your mind that you’ve somehow developed a habit of falling and injuring yourself in whatever bedroom you occupy.

Said bedroom door cracks open slowly. From your spot on the floor, you get to see a very tired Eddie—is he even actually awake?—slowly emerge from the opening door.

“Fuck was that,” he mutters, right before unhinging his jaw to yawn. You sigh and let yourself fall back on the floor, limp, staring up at a ceiling fan that refuses to work.

“Forgot where I was,” you say quietly, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Go back to bed dude.”

Eddie grunts, but you don’t hear the tell-tale squeaking and creaking of floorboards. Instead, when you move your arm out of the way just enough to see, you catch Eddie scratching the back of his head and looking back to the hallway. He clears his throat, and you cover your eyes again before he catches you staring.

He probably caught you staring way too much yesterday, so you’re not sure why it matters. It’s not like he’d make a big deal out of it anyways—not the way Steve and Robin did when they were helping you carry the sectional couch Mrs Henderson insisted you take from her basement.

(It’s fine, she had said, I can’t really look at that old thing anymore, she said. You didn’t ask, but you’d assumed that it was the same as everyone in Hawkins; just trying to get rid of all the leftovers from The Earthquake and what had preceded it.)

You’re jostled out of your thoughts when you feel Eddie’s shoulder—bare, from the cut-out Black Sabbath shirt he’s warning—against yours. He feels cool and clammy, like he’d been tossing and turning around in the heat, too.

“Ahh,” he sighs, folding his hands over his chest. “You had the right idea. Floor’s cold. Fuck this heat.”

You hum in agreement, and turn your head to properly look at Eddie.

“You could go back home,” you say quietly. When you don’t get an answer after a few seconds, you scoff lightly and turn to stare back at the ceiling. “At least he wouldn’t be boiling alive.”

You nearly squawk when you feel a hand taping on your hip. When you turn to look at Eddie again, his eyes are closed, still, but he’s very clearly frowning.

“Y’r being stupid,” he mutters, taking a deep breath before forcing himself to sit up, leaning back on his hands. He rotates his shoulders and—and he’s saying something else, you know he is. But there’s... there’s something about his shoulders.

Have they always been that wide?

You know your mouth is hanging open when Eddie turns to look back at you, and you only snap it shut with a click when you see him grinning.

“Didn’t catch a word I just said, huh.”

You try to speak a first time, but your voice cracks on the first syllable. Clear your throat and cough once or twice before trying again. This time you get yourself up on your feet and head for the door.

“Not a word. Too tired. Want a beer?”

Eddie blinks at you owlishly for a second before letting himself fall back to the floor. You’re about to take that as a silent refusal when he grumbles.

“Do you even know what time it is? Beer?”

You scoff again and cross your arms from your place at the door.

“What, like you do?”

Eddie simply raises an arm in response. You frown, open your mouth to ask why the fuck he’s raising his hand in your damn house, when you notice the watch still on his wrist.

(You try not to remember a very different, broken watch keeping time for the dead.)

“Right, well,” you dither, clearing your throat again. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Do you want a beer or not?”

Eddie sighs, putting on a show about being put out and disappointed and too tired, but the hand he rests low on your back to herd you out of the room is gentle. The quiet ‘sure’ he whispers also sounds far too caring and indulgent.

You practically inhale half of the first beer you pull from the fridge. If Eddie’s got any thoughts about that, he keeps them to himself. You sit down at the table—square, angular, nothing like the one that was in your hideout—and lean back in a chair that still smells like sawdust and campfire.

Leaning back in his own chair across from you, Eddie takes a slow look around. You see him pause to look at what you’ve already put up on the fridge. There’s a character sheet, a small pebble that’s been glued to a magnet, a note from your parents and a small magnetic photo frame. You can already feel your face heat up when Eddie points at it.

“That wasn’t there when we had pizza,” he says, slowly and a bit incredulously. You can only hold his gaze for a second or two when he turns to you for answers.

“I, uh,” you stutter, biting your lip and picking at the label of the bottle in your hands. “That’s—my mom, uh.”

It’s a polaroid.

By any other metric, completely unremarkable. Unnoticeable, probably, to anyone whose face isn’t actually on the damn thing. And if your mother hadn’t taken you aside yesterday morning to hand you a small, old and beaten-up looking shoebox, you probably wouldn’t ever have remembered that photo exists.

It’s Eddie, surrounded by trees, and wearing a cloak that had definitely been about twelve sizes too big. The hood swallows most of his head; the only thing that’s really visible is his smile. Honestly, most people probably wouldn’t even be able to tell that that’s Eddie Munson, in that photo.

But you remember taking that. Remember flapping the polaroid around madly while running away.

You shake your head against the memory. Those times are long gone, now. So why...

“Yeah,” you end up whispering, before taking a deep breath and letting out a deeper sigh. “I’unno. When my mom gave me an old box of pictures from middle school, I kind of...” You look over at the fridge and take another, albeit significantly more moderate, drag of your beer. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

Eddie slowly stands and walks over to the fridge. Takes a sip of his beer while he looks at the photo. Takes a quick look at you before taking a step back from the fridge to look at what all else you’ve put up there so far.

“You still got that box?” And bless him, you know he’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but there’s an anxious tone undercutting his voice clear as day. You chuckle and make your way back to your room and to your closet.

It’s only when you pull the small shoebox out and you’ve got it cradled in your arms do you realize the significance of this.

Almost everything that was in the trailer was lost; it’s honestly a miracle anything survived at all. But among the losses, you remember Wayne bemoaning the loss of the few pictures that he’d been able to take of Eddie over the years.

You look down at the box a bit more misty-eyed. You hope that there’s something helpful in here. Something nicer.

When you make it back to the living room, Eddie’s still standing in front of the fridge. His brows are pulled together and the sip he takes of his beer nearly dribbles down his chin. You hold the box a bit closer to your stomach when you move to stand next to him.

“What are we looking at?” you ask, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. You put a hand on his arm and laugh. “Hey there, have a nice time up in the clouds?”

Eddie laughs a bit thinly, points up at the fridge. “I was just. You kept the—the lyrics. From middle school?”

You stare up at the piece of turns, crumpled up ruled paper. You remember carrying that everywhere with you, in middle school and high school. Carried it in your wallet for a while, too, though...

You turn back to the table to gently put the shoebox down. “I didn’t think you’d remember writing that,” you say quietly, pulling up one small stack of photos neatly held together with a rubber band.

Eddie scoffs. “Are you kidding me? You basically whined at me for weeks to come up with a love song for... what was—”

“Shanon,” you add quickly, blindly reaching for your beer bottle while sorting through photos. “Blonde, grey eyes. You were infatuated.”

You don’t see the sad, self-deprecating grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shanon... yeah, no, didn’t write that for her.”

You take a second to bring the bottle down from your mouth. Turn around to look at Eddie, but he’s still resolutely looking at the paper haphazardly stuck to the fridge. It’s at an angle. It’s starting to drive you crazy. Eddie chugs the rest of his beer, puts the empty bottle on the counter by the fridge, and turns around.

“Woah there pal,” you start, chugging your own beer with a wince. You put the bottle back on the table behind you. “What’s that look for?”

You feel like your heart’s beating a frenzy in your throat. You’re pretty sure you just felt a heart palpitation. The look on Eddie’s face is intense in a way you don’t recognize. Not like when he's DMing and he’s about to throw a real wrench in everyone’s plans, and not like in the Upside Down.

No, it feels a lot like how he looks at you out in the fields by the junkyard.

You would take a step back when Eddie starts walking toward you, but you’re already leaning against the table behind you. You try to straighten up to maybe attempt to look less frazzled than you feel.

The beer’s already making your head feel fuzzy and your lips feel numb.

Eddie stops about a foot away from you, and you’re not sure how to feel about the fact that you have to crane your neck up to actually look at him. He opens his mouth, looking down at your with a frown. He tries a few times like this, before sighing and just.

Letting himself slump over to rest his head on your right shoulder.

You stay like that for a bit. You can hear the hitch in Eddie’s breath when he tries, again, to say something. After the third or fourth time, it feels like something’s squeezing your chest. He’s clearly got something on his chest he wants to get off—something heavy—and you know how that feels. How that goes.

Your left hand comes up to brace the back of his head before you can think of the implications.

Whatever. Fuck the implications.

“You can take your time, y’know,” you whisper, slowly slumping back to lean against the table behind you, forcing Eddie to take a step forward if he wants to stay in his spot.

“I can’t, I really can’t.” His voice sounds strained, and you flounder. You’ve never really had to struggle to get people to talk to you—not the people who actually give a fuck about you, anyways. And you can’t think of a single time, barring the obvious fuckery of the Upside Down, when Eddie was hesitant to talk to you.

He gently grabs the hand in his hair and pulls it away to straight himself out again. His eyes are closed when you can see his face again. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand.

“Listen—“

The phone rings.

You haven’t even put it up on the wall by the doorway yet. It’s still on the counter, where you’ve left it, right by the fridge.

The shock of it in the quiet of the dining room makes you trip over yourself. Eddie catches you and, practically in the same motion, spins to direct you to the phone. Out of breath, you pick up.

“Ye—hello?”

“Hey, hon,” comes Wayne’s tired greeting. “Sorry if I woke you up, but is Eddie still with you?”

You blink a few times, staring out into nothing. You only wonder for a second why he’d call so late when you’d likely be out cold, but when you turn to face Eddie—now leaning back against the table—the realization comes all at once.

“Ed—yes, oh my god, Wayne, I’m so sorry,” you rush to say, turning back to the counter and cradling the receiver. “Yeah, he helped me unpack and we kind of crashed, I should have had him call—”

“Hey, hey,” Wayne chuckles, and the lightness of the tone helps you breathe a bit easier. “It’s fine. Sorry I woke ya up.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” you reply quickly. “We’ve been up for a bit going through some stuff.”

“I won’t keep you then. Just tell that idiot son of mine to call next time.”

You let out a quiet bark of laughter and promise you will. You don’t think you’ve ever referred to Eddie as his son before. Guess the whole town going to shit changed a few things. Said idiot son has the decency to look a bit ashamed when you turn around and lean back against the counter.

“Probably shoulda called before we called it a night, huh,” Eddie says with a wince.

There’s a beat of silence that’s almost awkward before you clear your throat to speak.

“You uh, you were going to tell me something?”

Eddie stands there, expression not unlike shock on his face. He opens his mouth two or three times but eventually settles on a shrug.

“Don’t worry about it, I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” The end of his sentence almost trails off its so quiet. It’s clearly a lie, but you’re too fuzzy from the beer and fatigue from moving to push the issue any further.

You push yourself off the kitchen counter and brush your hands off on your thighs.

“Well,” you start, feeling a bit awkward while you amble toward the hallway. “I need to go back to bed. Let me know if...” It’s your turn to trail off, because you’re not sure how to end that sentence. Let you know if what, a demodog comes bursting in through the window?

You look anxiously over your shoulder at the window over the sink. It’s fine. It’s nothing, nothing’s there, you’re good. You clear your throat.

“Right, so. I’ll just.”

Eddie nods but doesn’t look at you. Your room is bright with birdsong and the rising sun by the time you fall asleep.

17 July 19861:37AM

You’re not entirely sure what motivated you to get out of bed, climb into your car, and make it to the Munsons’. It’s not like you couldn’t have just grabbed the phone and dialed Eddie’s shiny separate number. (You’re beginning to think the hush money bit was real.) You’ve called each other at the worst times of night and day for dumber shit.

This time, though, the nightmare felt a little too real to ignore and sleep off. Like you usually would have done.

It was like you had never existed; like everyone had gone into the Upside Down without you, without an extraction team, without a backup plan. And you had to watch while Eddie sliced the blanket rope. Horrified, you watched Dustin sprain his ankle in his rush to get back.

Eddie, gasping and choking on his own blood, saying he hadn’t run away this time. Eddie, glassy-eyed and gone, torn to shreds by bats left motionless by what you now know to have been Chief Hopper’s own attack all the way in Russia.

You take a second to control your breathing once you’re at the squat triplex. Eventually you uncurl your stiff and sore fingers from the steering wheel and force yourself out of the car. Your legs feel like jello and your head like lead.

You consider trying to climb up to the third floor, somehow, if only for a second. You know Wayne’s likely to be up so you shouldn’t worry too much about either ringing or knocking but... Shake your head and hit the button for the third floor before you can think more about it and chicken out.

You’re let in surprisingly quickly. When you make it up to door number 3, Wayne’s leaning against the doorway.

“Bit early,” he says, uncrossing his arms once you’re near. Puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “Everything okay?”

“Nightmares,” you answer quietly. You curl and uncurl your fists at your sides.

“Come on,” Wayne says after a beat of silence. “He’s in his room. Coffee?”

You shake your head. With one last squeeze of your shoulder. Wayne wanders back inside, and you aim straight for Eddie’s bedroom door. Your fist is up to knock when Eddie opens the door, looking disheveled but extremely awake.

“Hey,” he says airily, out of breath as he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail. “I was about to head out—you weren’t answering your phone so.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything or explain before pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He throws his jacket—leather only, sans denim, as it has been for a few months now—over the back of the chair as his desk.

Nothing much else is said, which is how these nights usually go. Neither of you need to be rehashing what happened in the Upside Down, the earthquake, your constant passing out. Tonight, though, there is one thing that eats at you. Eddie has to nudge you, sitting next to him on his bed beneath the window, to pass the joint over. When you take it, he makes a point to lean forward to try and get a good look at your face.

“Did... did something happen? Before you got here?” he asks, and the concern in his voice twists your gut unpleasantly.

“It’s just—it’s nightmares. You know how it is.” You make a point not to take too deep of a toke of the joint before passing it back over, turning your head to blow the smoke out through the open window.

You can just barely see Eddie narrowing his eyes at you in your periphery. For a second, when he straightens up and leans back against the wall next to you, you think he’s dropped it.

“If it was just nightmares, you would’ve called.”

You snort and look the other way. Again, though, Eddie nudges you to turn around and take the joint. Carefully and, thankfully, not too quickly, he grabs your wrist as you grab the joint.

“Hey. Come on. Talk to me, please.”

Your eyes burn and you can already feel your nose getting red and itchy. Your whole face feels warm. Either to spare you the embarrassment of it or a second, secret reason, Eddie pulls you into his chest and you just start crying.

You’ve dreamt of people dying before. Tons of times. Even before El tore a massive hole through reality in Hawkins. But that—feeling powerless in a situation you know could’ve happened if you hadn’t just been around and stuck your nose where it arguably shouldn’t have been—and seeing Eddie die in a way you just couldn’t help?

That was brutal.

17 July 19869:12AM

You have no idea when you fell asleep. Your eyes feel sore and dry, your throat feels strange and your neck hurts. You’re cursorily aware that you’re in Eddie’s room—the smell of weed, incense and whatever cologne he wears usually gives it away.

Very quickly, you realize that you’ve fallen asleep on Eddie’s chest at an awkward angle. You’re both barely sitting up, still leaning back against the wall underneath the window. God, you drool on him. Fuck.

Okay, this is fine. You’ve literally had worse.

You take a deep breath and, as smoothly and quickly as you can, roll off the bed and onto your knees. It’s not graceful, but when you look back, Eddie still seems to be sound asleep. You pray to whatever’s out there that he stays that way until his shirt’s dry.

You tiptoe out of the room and turn the knob before shutting the door behind you. The rest of the apartment is empty, and with how late you heard Wayne ambling about, you’re sure he’s not ready to get up any time soon, either.

By the time you leave, there’s breakfast ready to be reheated in the oven and you’ve left a note on the coffee maker saying to just turn it on.

When you walk outside to your car, though the sun’s been up for a while, the fog still clings to the ground. You sit in your car for a few minutes, staring at the water droplets slowly evaporating on the windshield. When your heart rate has gone back down to something human and manageable, you start the car and head home.

13 August 198612:07AM

If you were bubbling with excitement before the concert, now you feel like soda that’s been left out for a few hours. Flat, maybe, but still just as sweet as it was before, if not moreso. You still feel all the enthrallment that you did before and during the concert, but now you feel...

Well, post-concert blues. That satisfied feeling of having witnessed something amazing, but the accompanying sadness and mourning knowing that you’ll never be able to relive this same experience again. It’s come and gone and now all you can do is remember it.

You slap your thighs to bring you out of your own head. This is going to be a good fucking night. Eddie literally bought you tickets to see Judas Priest and drove you both all the way out here. Refused to let you drive for a singular second, too.

“You still that hyped?” Eddie asks, laughing, holding his lighter out to you. You light up your own smoke and laugh.

“Nah, just trying to get my head back in the game. Too much shit rattling around in here.” You tap your head with the lighter before handing it back.  Eddie takes a second before grabbing it, though, and you have to wave your other hand in front of him to snap him out of it.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s out of it,” you laugh, bumping his shoulder with yours when he finally takes the damn lighter back.

Quietly, from inside the van, you can hear the opening bars for Wild Nights.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grunts, crouching down to tie the messy laces of his right shoe. “I’m the one who drove three hours to get here, and had to convince your parents that I wouldn’t murder you and dump your body in the river.”

You can’t help but cackle. You know for a fact that neither of your parents called the Munson household, but you also know that it’s something that they very easily could have done. Looking out at the White river from your little spot at the state park, you open your mouth to say something about how overprotective Wayne can be, but then something catches your eye.

“They literally,” you start, reaching over to pluck the scarf from Eddie’s back pocket. “Did not do that.” You twist the scarf around in your hands a bit before trying to whip it at his ass. You miss horribly and end up snapping the tip of the scarf on his thigh.

You burst out in laughter, full bellied and unrestrained, when Eddie yelps and topples over to the right. You try to apologize and ask if he’s okay, but you doubt that anything intelligible makes it past you wheezing, squeaking laughter.

“Alright, that’s it,” Eddie grumbles, tossing his half-smoke cigarette into the gravel before stalking towards you. He’s clearly not upset, but you make a mad dash for the riverbank anyways.

The toes of your shoes have just barely touched water before Eddie’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you back. You shriek and kick once or twice before letting yourself go limp.

Half an hour later finds you in some park along the 36, hair and clothes still damp and cheeks sore. You’re both sitting in the back of the van, doors open, passing a joint between you and looking out onto the park.

“I like what you’ve done with this old bitch,” you comment, tapping the plush—carpeting? blanket?—that Eddie’s laid down in the back. “Is there a camping mat under this or something?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, been going out in the woods after work sometimes just to like... relax, y’know?” You nod; you ran to the woods a lot as a kid, too. “Right, so I kinda made it more comfy to get high in. That’s it.”

When he passes you the joint, you look back at the front where you’d left the scarf. Handkerchief? You’ve had the question in mind ever since March: is he the S or is he the M?

“Seriously?” Eddie balks. “That’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?”

You turn to look at him and blink owlishly.

“Oh. Oh god, please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

Eddie laughs, and it almost sounds a little mean. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and making its way to your face. Your cheeks itch with it.

“Right, you’re too baked and tired for this,” Eddie declares, and even to your ears he sounds way too composed and, frankly, sober. Though you guess he’s maybe had a bit more time to get used to smoking weed than you have.

“What, no!” You whine, trying to reach across him to snag the joint out of his left hand. Unfortunately, the best that’s done for you is get you splayed across Eddie’s lap once you inevitably lose your balance.  “Fuck you.”

Eddie’s almost unnaturally still beneath you. And you’d look up at him, if you could, but even fucking cooked, you’re very aware that you’re laid across a man’s lap.

Your throat feels too tight when you swallow. You move to brace an arm on Eddie’s thigh to prop yourself up, but his hand on the back of your head has you freezing in place. When the hand starts petting down your head, your neck and your spine, only to start again at the top, you start to go limp. This isn’t so bad.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, and you get the feeling you’ve spoken out loud again. “You would think that.” The embarrassment is enough to make your eyes sting. There’s a beat of silence, and then Eddie leans over to whisper in your ear, “Good girl.”

You swallow thickly. You had intended to follow-up by asking whether or not Eddie was even interested in the opposite gender. But you suppose that answers that.

There’s a tension in your gut and shoulders that makes you second guess yourself. You get the words out before you can think too much about it.

“What do I have to do for you to say that again?”

The hand petting you takes its time reaching the bottom of your spine, and then stays there. Warm against your lower back, and just high enough to say he’s not actually touching your ass. Awfully cordial.

“Depends,” Eddie hums, and you hear him take another toke of the joint before crushing the tip of it between his fingers and chucking the extinguished butt somewhere you can’t see. “Why?”

This time, you do prop yourself up, both hands on Eddie’s thigh. If it had been anyone else, the distance between your faces would have been the epitome of discomfort.

“I want you to say it again,” you answer quietly. It’s getting harder to keep your eyes on his and not let them drift down.

“Say what again?” Eddie asks, and you don’t know if you love or hate the shit eating grin on his face. You should have expected this, though; putting you on the spot was part of the whole point, wasn’t it?

“I-I want you to...” you start, but your throat feels too small for the words that are trying to come out. Eddie’s hand at your lower back comes up to rub comforting circles between your shoulder blades. Your face and neck are on fire and everything feels itchy.

“Come on,” Eddie whispers. You realize that you’ve been staring at his mouth, and when you look, he is very much looking down at your mouth. “Won’t laugh. Promise.”

The sigh that leaves you almost surprises you.

“I-I want you to—I want you to call me a good girl. Again. Please.”

The hand between your shoulders makes its way forward to cup your jaw.

“Good girl,” Eddie breathes, and it’s like your whole body vibrates, shudders with the satisfaction of it. “Fuck,” he chuckles, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re really into that.”

You want to say that you shrugged, but the reality is that the sound that comes out of your mouth couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a whimper.

“Can I—” Eddie starts asking, but you cut him off nearly right away.

“Yes.”

You would think kissing your childhood best friend, whom you’d lost touch with for several years and had recently gone through several traumatic events with, would be somewhat awkward and clumsy. But, unlike when you were teenagers, you and Eddie both, clearly, had the advantage of some gained experience in the meanwhile.

There’s no chastity in the kiss; from the moment his mouth locks with yours, it’s open-mouthed and breathless. Eddie pulls you closer, helps you sit across his lap properly, and you fist your hands in his shirt. In his brand new Judas Priest shirt. You know he doesn’t even particularly like Turbo, as an album. Almost none of it is his preferred style.

You whine into the kiss, and you chase Eddie’s lips when he pulls away. He helps shift you off his lap and quickly instructs you to move back and lie down. The van is plunged into near pitch-black. You move back until you feel what you think is the back of the driver’s seat. You don’t lie back yet, instead reaching out for Eddie.

Your hand knocks into what’s apparently his arm. His mouth finds your again in the dark as your fingers find their way into his hair. You gasp when Eddie roughly pulls you down, firmly gripping your hips one second and cradling your head to make sure you don’t hit it the next.

“You sure this is fine?” Eddie asks, though his lips are moving down to your neck, teeth nipping at the skin.

“It’s fine, this is fine,” you rush to say, letting your hands wander up under Eddie’s shirt. You’re  sure to keep your touch light when you come across the scars. “This is so fucking fine,” you breathe.

Eddie’s shirt rises with your wandering hands, and he gives you a second to pull it over his head. You have no idea where you toss it and you honestly couldn’t care less. His hands, in return, take the opportunity to make their way under your shirt, and you want to scream. Your entire body feels like a coil being wound tighter.

It’s unfamiliar, how intense it is. You don’t think you mind.

Eddie knocks your knees open to settle between your legs rather than straddling you, though you’re more preoccupied by your shirt—identical to Eddie’s, because you couldn’t help yourself—being peeled off and thrown into an equally unknowable direction. His hands on your ribs feel like irons smoothing out the trembling wrinkles of them, and the shuddering sigh that you let out makes Eddie chuckle.

“Poor thing,” he laments, one hand at your waist prompting you to arch your back, the other sliding up your back to somehow expertly undo the clasp of your bra. “Been holding out for a while, huh.”

It’s not a question. You twitch, about to bring your hands up to hide your face, but—there’s no real point, is there? In this kind of darkness, it’s not like he’d be able to see how red your face is. You have a feeling he’d reprimand you for trying to hide, anyways.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna look at me,” you breathe into his mouth. Saying it out loud makes it feel silly, especially here and now. You don’t hold it against him when Eddie laughs. You can hear the shock in it.

“We’re both idiots,” he mutters, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your neck, nipping at the collarbone on the way. He presses his lips to your sternum, hands gliding up your sides to palm at your breasts. Nothing like the fumbling messes of your first adult years; Eddie’s hands are slow and deliberate. He’s not feeling you up for his own sake—though you don’t doubt that it in no small way contributes to the hardening length you feel growing at the junction of your thigh—but for yours. This feels entirely like a massage for your benefit.

To his credit, it’s working. Whatever tension you were holding in your shoulders is slowly melting away under his hands.

His mouth continues its trail down, licking a stripe up your navel before he stops at the button of your shorts. You don’t let him ask, you just unbutton them for him. He doesn’t move until he hears you start to pull at the zipper. He doesn’t leave you time to pull it down all the way before he’s tugging your shorts off like they’ve personally offended him.

The cold air makes you realize he’s taken your underwear with them. He lightly rests his forehead on your stomach and breathes in. It almost makes you choke.

“God you smell good,” he growls against your skin. While his mouth trails kisses back up your torso, you feel one hand sliding gently up your chest to rest at the base of your throat. The other slides two fingers through your slit.

Eddie groans like he’s in pain.

“I won’t—not here, fuck,” Eddie mutters, nuzzling between your breasts, and you buck your hips into his hands when one of his slicked fingers finds your clit. “First time we gotta do it right but this, we can—I can give you this,” he whispers, so low you figure he must be talking to himself more than he is to you.

One finger prods at your entrance, and then he’s got two fingers inside of you. The first few pumps, though heaven, don’t do much. But then Eddie curls his fingers, and it’s like he’s a puppeteer who’s pulled on all of your strings all at once. He exhales sharply and sounds entirely too pleased with himself when he speaks.

“There she is,” he whispers, mouthing at the spot on your neck just below your ear. The warmth  makes you shiver and clamp down on his finger. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Eddie’s hand practically turns into a machine. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to get yourself so close to cumming in less than a minute. The hand at the base of your neck creeps just a little bit higher. When you gasp at the pressure his fingers apply, you have to grab at Eddie’s wrist to keep his hand there.

“You’re perfect,” Eddie sighs, and you can feel more than see him toss his head back. “Fuck, wish I could see your face right now.”

“Next time,” you reply quickly. “Please, fuck, I’m so close, please please please,” you whine, reaching your other hand down to rub at your clit.

“Holy shit that’s so fucking hot,” Eddie groans, and bites down on your neck, just above where his hand collars it nicely.

The sting is what sends you careening over the edge, cumming with a drawn-out moan. Your hips jerk erratically in spite of yourself, chasing Eddie’s fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm. When your arms go limp, you distantly register the sound of his belt coming undone and the distinct sound of him spitting. There’s a slick sound and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that.

That Eddie Munson is jerking off over your naked body.

“Fucking christ,” you whisper, out of breath, and force yourself to sit up.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, and you blindly reach out for him. He grabs one of your hands on his chest, laces his fingers tightly through yours. Your other hand, however, makes it down to his, wrapped around and pump his cock.

You shimmy back just enough to be able to lean down to lick the tip.

“Jesus f—I’m gonna,” Eddie chokes out. He doesn’t finish his sentence when you bat his hand away and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and suck.

You swallow more of him down as he cums, swallowing around him once or twice before he brushes a hand up your forehead and lightly pushes you back and away. You kiss his navel, instead, then his sternum, until he pulls you up with two hands cupping your face, and makes you kiss him, instead.

You didn’t think you’d be turned on by a guy kissing you after you’ve just swallowed his load, but there are apparently a lot of things you’ve yet to discover about yourself.

Carefully, mouths still touching but not quite kissing, Eddie maneuvers you both so that he can lie down on his back, and you can lay your head on his chest.

You throw a leg over his for good measure.

“I’m not moving anymore,” you groan, burrowing your face into his chest.

“Can’t blame ya,” Eddie says, breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

There’s a moment of silence, and then both of you start laughing. The bouncing of his chest makes it hard to stop laughing. Your gut hurts, your cheeks hurt, and you are entirely too sweaty. You could not care less.

“So,” Eddie starts, once you’ve both been able to calm down and breathe like normal people again. “You mentioned a next time?”

You hum and close your eyes against the darkness in the back of the van.

“Mm, it did not escape my notice that the handcuffs were something you managed to rescue from the trailer,” you mumble, throwing an arm over Eddie’s chest and squeezing.

“...I don’t think I hate the idea of you in chains, actually.”

September 2nd, 19867:58AM

You’re woken up entirely too early by your phone ringing. You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s too early; if you can’t hear cars driving around yet, it’s too fucking early.

“Mmn, gmorning, what,” you slur, wedging the phone between your chin and shoulder and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” Eddie greets you brightly, and the warmth that bubbles up in your chest at the sound of his voice feels almost euphoric.

“You’re a weapon,” you say fondly, moving from where you’ve finally wall-mounted the phone to the wall by the fridge and making your way to the kitchen counter, which you promptly hop up on. “Wait,” you whisper, leaning forward to look at the calendar you’ve stuck to the fridge. “It’s September 2nd.”

“Mhm, congratulations, you can correctly identify the date.”

You ignore the snark.

You have entirely forgotten to ask Eddie whether or not he’d been made to repeat his senior year—again—despite everything that had happened over spring break. It felt awkward to ask now, though.

“You, uh,” you stutter instead, trying to find the least offensive way to go about finding out. “You’re calling, uh, early. Special occasion?”

“Of course,” Eddie says haughtily, and you can almost imagine the expression on his face. The kind that says ‘I know something you don’t and I know you’re too much of a coward to ask about it’.

“Come on just say it man,” you plead, letting your head fall back and reaching up to keep the receiver in place.

“My lady, I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Fucking dick,” you say under your breath. Take a deep breath, bring your head back up and square your shoulder. “Edward Munson, did they or did they not let you graduate?”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter so loud you have to pull the receiver away from your ear for a second. His tone and demeanor make you want to believe that he’s finally been cut some slack, but...

You manage to get a single sound out before there’s a knock at your door. You hold the phone away from yourself again, narrow your eyes at it like it’s Eddie in your hands instead of the receiver, and put it back to your ear. You cut off whatever he was saying when you speak again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’s someone knocking on my door at,” you pause, turning to look at the time on the stove. “One past eight in the fucking morning?”

“Dunno, sounds important if it’s this early though,” Eddie replies, a bit too easily, and you sigh.

“Whatever, I’m putting the phone down. Don’t hang up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff and put the phone down on the counter, making sure it won’t fall off. By the time you make it to your front door, whoever’s there has decided that knocking nonstop is clearly the best way to get your attention.

You honestly should have expected Dustin Henderson at your doorstep at eight in the morning on back to school day. He’s suspiciously got an arm behind his back. You sigh, again, and unlock the deadbolt and undo the latch before opening the door.

“Alright,” you say, one hand on your hip and the other hand held out. “Fork it over.”

“I have no idea—” Dustin starts to say, but the deadpan stare you level at him makes him clear his throat instead. “Right! Here you go.”

“Thank you kindly, now hold up,” you say, holding a finger up and quickly walking over to your fridge to pull a bottle of water out. When you’re halfway back to the door, you call out, “Heads up!” and toss the bottle over.

Dustin barely manages to catch the thing, but doesn’t do so without a comical amount of fumbling.

“Awesome, now that you’ve done your Dungeon Master’s bidding, go the fuck to school, nerd,” you chastise, flicking the bill of Dustin’s cap.

“Man, you’re mean, you know that?”

“Sure, that’s why I’m making sure you’re staying hydrated on that damn bike,” you retort, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Go on now, shoo. Go get an education.”

You wait until you can’t see Dustin down the road anymore before closing and locking the door, and wandering back over to the phone.

“Alright,” you say, wedging the receiver under your chin again and tearing open the envelope you’d been handed. “This better be worth it. I was up until 3am and I’m fucking beat.”

Eddie stays quiet, but you can practically feel the frantic energy of him through the phone. You pull the paper—papers, it’s a whole damn stack of them—and then promptly drop them all on the kitchen floor when you catch the title on the first page.

“Edward,” you start, tone harsh.

“Hey, woah, okay,” Eddie  rushes to start. “Okay, I graduated, right? Like, everyone was let through because of all the bullshit. That’s not really important right now though?”

“Ed,” you start again, lower and calmer. “That thing said ‘Thrasher Records’. I don’t fucking know who they are but there’s fucking record in the name, babe.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. You can hear the face-splitting smile. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, and you know he can hear the smile splitting your face, too.

You don’t change out of your sleep shorts and Judas Priest shirt. You’re at the Munsons’ in just under five minutes—which, yes, is probably a little bit criminally fast, but it’s not like Hopper’s gonna care—only to find out that Edward fucking Munson hadn’t even told his own damn father.

You give your boyfriend just enough shit for him to want to make up for it.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@bramblequill @storiesbyrhi @averagestudent03 @alovesongtheywrote @doratheignora @fnlyroe

[worldsfromhoney]

This Godly Taste

Masterlist

cw: power imbalance

Prompt 20 - cool drinks @thepromptfoundry

They’ve finished the yakhchal and it’ll take a single night for the gathered water to freeze and turn into this ‘ice.’ That’s what his ministers and advisors say and Menes had simply nodded, letting their words pass through his ears like the whistle of stagnant air.

He knows he should be more excited. His people definitely were, with some even setting up stalls and tents in preparation near the yakhchal. He doesn’t fault them for it. This was one of the hottest summers Kemet had experienced in recorded history that the promise of this ‘ice’ was something everyone grabbed onto and weren’t too willing to let go.

Menes thought otherwise.

“Why the frowny face, my king? Heh, not too happy I’ve one-upped you again?”

Menes sighed and opened his eyes halfway. Half-lidded, he stared into the kohl-lined eyes of the bane of his existence and rule. As always, Amon’s form had changed from last time. For today’s visit, the god had retained the ram’s horns and kept the rest of themself as human. Well, as human as Amon could manage to be.

Menes sighed and flicked the god’s forehead. “You’re too close, O venerable netjer. Ever heard of personal space?”

Amon hummed as if they were really thinking about it. Menes wasn’t fooled. The god was still leaning into his space, their noses almost brushing. When Amon stopped, for a moment, all he could see was blue. A deep midnight colour as if the god had borrowed his skin from the night sky and Menes wouldn’t be surprised if they really did so. They were flighty like that—like the air one couldn’t see but always felt.

When he blinked, Amon was gone save for those eyes twinkling with mischief and the ram’s horns threatening to pierce right through the throne at his back. Menes blinked again and saw Amon in all their…blueness.

Menes frowned harder. “Don’t do that. You know I hate it when you do that, O most annoying netjer.”

“Ah,” Amon chuckled, poking at the furrow in his brow. “There’s my honest little king. And here I thought an imposter dare sit on your throne! The scandal there would be if they discovered their uptight king playing hooky—”

Menes had been king since he was ten. He’d met a god at eleven. He wasn’t afraid of retribution when he kicked said god (more of a leech at this point) in the stomach. Not when he knew Amon was going to catch his foot like they did now and cackling like a madman as they did so.

“Mean!” Amon said, still cackling. They brought themself even closer to Menes using the captured leg. “Mean! The king is so mean! Mean, mean, mean!”

Their voice echoed in the chamber and would’ve definitely reached the guards outside the doors. Menes chanced a glance at the doors.

Nothing. Like always, no one heard or saw this annoying god but him and his advisors and ministers all told him this was a blessing. They all told him it only asserted how his reign was blessed and he himself was to be god once he passed.

Menes looked at this cackling god, their blue skin and ram horns such a contrast to himself. He sighed and closed his eyes.

A god, huh?

Menes woke up sweating the most he’s ever had and knows Amon had a part in this. The servants with their fans were struggling between keeping him cool and not appearing like they wanted to blow their king away.

Menes pinched the bridge of his nose and waved them off. “It’s fine. I’ll be going off to the baths.”

He doesn’t need to say he’ll be going alone. The servants have been here long enough to know to leave him alone. One of the benefits of king—of power, of authority, and of…legitimacy.

The moment Menes entered the bath chamber, he knew to expect the gentle caress of wind against his eyes to make him blink. Then Amon was there behind him, fingers skating along his bare back.

It must be the heat that makes Menes forget to keep himself in check. What else would make him rest back against this silly god? What would make him, the king of all of Kemet, sigh, groan and even moan from the light graze of this ever present menace’s nails on his skin?

It’s the heat. It must be.

When Amon chuckles it’s breathy against Menes’ ear and a rumble he feels echoing through him. It’s enough to make him frown and look up at the god who’s undressing him.

“What?”

Amon chuckles again and noses his cheek. He’s completely human-like today. “Have I ever said you’re like a kitten, my adorable king?”

It is the heat that had made him lean into the god’s presence and touch but no weather can control a king for long. Not Menes. He keeps the frown as he steps away from Amon, untying his shendyt that the god’s made a mess off. The necklace had been the first to go but there hadn’t been a clanging sound on the limestone floor.

Menes rolled his eyes and stepped into the cool waters of the bath. “You better return that, O thieving netjer. I’ve had too many necklaces replaced from your slippery fingers.”

Amon laughed and soon there was a splash by his side, the waters lapping at his chest in evident joy. Even something simple as his bath water seemed to have its own thoughts about the company its king keeps, it seems. Menes glares at his wavering reflection.

“Ah, my frowny little king,” Amon sing-songs. “Is it because of the sudden heat wave you’re like this or your impatience to try out this ‘ice’ I’ve helped engineer, hm?”

Menes raises a brow. Despite the coolness of the bath, he still feels the heat in the air making beads of sweat run down his face. He follows the languid floating form of this god who could change the air and the wind however they like.

Menes closes his eyes from the sight. “I’ve no interest in whatever you’ve had your hands in, O most interfering netjer.”

A splash. The lap of water against his chest. A bead of sweat running down his face. A shadow blocking the light of the early day.

Menes doesn’t open his eyes or move when he feels impossibly cool fingers on his face. He doesn’t let himself react from the slide of those fingers to his lips, stroking them over and over. But he doesn’t turn away either and what does that say when he does open his eyes and see the gaze of a god on him and him alone?

“My little king,” Amon says, eyes soft and sparkling with mischief. “I’ll be sure to change your mind soon enough.”

Menes hears it from the streets than from his ministers the moment the yakhchal’s opened and Amon’s suggestion of an experiment shows its results. A success or fail is easy enough to surmise from what he hears from his people.

Silence, first. Then the pitter patter of the chosen servant’s sandals as they come out of the structure. There is silence again and this time Menes knows the outcome before the first cry rings out—

“A MIRACLE!!!”

He closes his eyes. He has lost and Amon, once again with his gifts of creativity and innovation, wins. His knuckles whiten and his sceptre trembles in his tight grip. In the midst of the roaring praise outside, there’s a gnashing of teeth, canines grinding against its brethren.

Menes is angry and he shouldn’t be.

A sudden gust of hot wind comes and there’s a weight against his legs, cool fingers wrapping around his ankle. Something of fur brushes against his uncovered skin.

“That’s another game lost, my grumpy king,” Amon says with a bleat to their voice. “Aren’t you gonna be a good sport and congratulate me?”

Menes keeps his eyes shut and turns his head away. He doesn’t move to get free from the god’s hold though and that says something he doesn’t want to hear. Not now. Not ever.

Amon laughs as much as someone with a ram’s head could. He feels the weight of those great horns by his legs, a pressure reminding him of a presence he can never be rid of. There’s still that hand on his ankle, fingers loosely wrapped around it like a too loose shackle Menes has the choice of simply stepping out of.

He doesn’t move. Instead he sighs because he has just lost and he is tired, really, of this game of push and pull for the last years.

“What do you want me to say, Amon?” Menes asks, desperation colouring his voice without consent. He is tired and it is showing. “Tell me, O netjer, and I shall—”

Amon kisses him. His mouth is open mid-sentence and this god—his god has moved like the wind, fast and relentless. It’s a struggle, at first. Menes moves to hit them with his sceptre and Amon shatters it with nary a glance. The god shoves him against the throne and those lips have never left his, moving and taking, taking, owning—

Something cold passes between their lips, Amon’s tongue twining with his and slipping in this proof of their victory.

It’s ice. A small piece and nothing like how Menes imagined it and it’s the sweetest, warmest thing he’s ever had in his mortal life. It slides across his tongue and he shivers, trembles, and holds on to Amon’s horns—to this god’s divinity.

His god pulls away once he’s swallowed it but stays close as they’ve always been prone to do. Amon noses his cheek and plants a softer kiss at the corner of his lips.

“There,” Amon says, breaking the moment because that’s what they do, isn’t it? “That’s a better look on you, kianga.”

Menes has been king since he was ten. He’d met a god when he was eleven. He is not afraid to hold his god’s face and drag him into another kiss.

[turtlemagnum]

remember when cyberpunk 2077 came out, i played it with steam family share from my (at the time) girlfriend's account. beforehand, i had gotten a GPU for christmas, an AMD RX570 4GB that i managed to talk my mom into buying me since it was on sale/used for about 100 bucks. turned out, the shitty prebuild desktop i had been using didn't even have a slot for a GPU, much less the physical clearance or a strong enough power supply. i told my dad, and since this was around 2020 he had just gotten a stimulus check. he had claimed me on it and got more money, even though he didn't have custody of me. my mom was pissed, but made the mistake of saying that it "would've been spent on me anyways", so i told him that and thus was born my current PC. he spent the entire goddamn stimulus check on it, including the mouse, keyboard, and screen. my mom was pissed, i didn't care because i wasn't living with her anymore and i had this baller new PC. the bottleneck, was, of course, the budget oriented GPU that i myself provided. i remember, a little while before he even told me he had built the damn thing, i saw a video where a guy did benchmarks on a PC with 32 gigabytes of RAM, and i thought to myself "wow, why would anybody need that much". as my mentioning of this implies, the PC had 32 gigs of RAM, and frankly i appreciate it purely because of how many browser tabs i have open at any given time. anyways, cyberpunk 2077, i forget what the recommended specs were at around that time, but looking at it now it says an RX580 as a bare minimum. that sounds about right, because i vaguely remember thinking something to the effect of "well, mine's only slightly weaker, should be fine! :)". well, it technically ran. i hit 30 FPS looking at a blank wall, and that was if i was lucky, but i definitely got used to the choppy 10-20 after a while. was still fun. i remember there being a hell of a lot of ludonarrative dissonance, what with the whole story being "you're a dead man walking, you're a weak link in a big scary world, you're sooo soso powerless in all of this", meanwhile i broke the difficulty with relatively little effort and was able to smack basically everyone with a baseball bat and kill em in one shot. one of the more fun broken aspects of the game was this glitch, i think it was called the khop. you know how in botw speedruns, if you use bullet time before bouncing off of an enemy and resume time, it sends you flying like a goddamn rocket? and it's because the momentum being applied in the slowed time gets sped up, so when time starts moving normally the speed is just multiplied. it was a bit like that, except it was a lot easier because slowing time could be done just by pressing a direction twice, and instead of requiring an enemy you just crouchspam and now you're flying like superman. was honest to god one of the funnest unintentional movement mechanics in a game i've ever used, rocket jumping couldn't even compare. again, really added to the whole disempowerment narrative the game was going for just not working