#so that wasn't a matter of him ~giving into his inner darkness~ because he wasn't actually brainy anymore by that point)

[yanderestarangel]

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻... 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻

♡⁠┊TW — dp, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fuck, praise, breeedkink, afab reader, dark smut, dead dove, Ghost has two dicks here (because I chose to write it like that)

"Don't look anywhere else, look at me... I'm still your husband." The words were followed by the wet sound of the two cocks of your now radioactively-rayed husband, who looked like a monstrous anomaly — with two extra heads, two extra arms, and... two extra cocks.

You hadn't expected that in thousands of years, but when Simon came out the door completely safe and sound, looking like that was shocking and at least scary to your eyes.

Even so, you were on your hands and knees, feeling one of his cocks enter your ass while the other filled your wet pussy, making you whimper loudly as you felt his very hot and heavy balls hit your clit with the slow thrusts that the military man was giving you.

You could feel every pulsing vein of his shafts in your wet holes, the slickness between your thighs and his groin increasing. His now gray eyes were locked completely on your figure, two of his four arms gripping your waist while the other two held your wrists behind your back, ready to dominate and maneuver you as he pleased.

Hearing your moans of acceptance, his two cocks throbbed like never before, impaling you to the point where you even forgot that your partner was now a shadow of what he once was.

All that mattered in that moment was that you could take every inch of what he was giving you, as if your life depended on it—as if every fluid that came out of his cocks was a poison that made you crave more and more of him.

The slow, flesh-to-flesh pounding that had once been tender was now replaced by Simon's almost animalistic movements above you. A little drool dripped from your mouth as you could only wriggle your toes every time one of his cocks reached the tip of your womb while the other kissed limits you didn’t even know existed.

Grunts escaped his lips, muffled by the mask that was now completely part of his skin, fused to his flesh like a second garment. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to leave marks as a hoarse growl came from his throat, echoing like a triad through his three heads.

"Come on, sweetheart... I know you want to cum, don't deny it... cum for me." His words were tinged with the same honey that once soothed your soul. It was still him, even with that new body—and you felt yourself becoming addicted to it, like a drug, leaving you with pleasure so intense it made your system shut down.

You felt him give one final thrust, and at the same time, your pussy was filled with the warm, viscous liquid of his semen. Your other hole was filled as well, causing tears to spill from your eyes as you whimpered from how full you were. But your partner didn’t stop—Simon continued with small thrusts until he felt your inner walls drain him. One of his many hands moved to your pussy lips, slowly opening them to expose your tight slit as it swallowed his cock.

"I won’t let you leave here until I see you beautiful, full, and carrying my children in your belly... Do you understand, my angel?" His words left no room for argument, and no matter how tired you were, saying "no" wasn't an option. After all, you wanted him too, regardless of his appearance. He was still yours.

[luvgavii]

wet dreams - (pg8)

summary: pedri's special way of waking you up ;)

warning: smut. minors do not interact!!

It wasn't often that you slept in. Whether it was because of uni or because you wanted to make your boyfriend breakfast before he leaves for training, early mornings were a part of your routine.

Today was an exception, you didn't have to go to university until the afternoon, so it was finally the day when it wasn't necessary to put an alarm.

When Pedri stirred, stretching his muscled arms out with a small yawn, his dark brown orbs fluttered open, immediately turning to his side to look at you. You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took. Pedri smiled to himself, reaching out to put a strand of hair that was in your face behind your ear, his touch soft and tender, careful not to wake you up.

The moment you laid from your side to your back, the covers slid just enough to reveal your chest, your perky nipples immediately making Pedri's pupils dilate, his mind going to the night before.

He bit down on his lower lip, fighting back the urge to run a hand over your breasts. He wasn't a fan of touching you in such an intimate way without having your consent, no matter how many times you'd told him you wouldn't mind to wake up to his face between your thighs.

You've taken him by surprise when a quiet hum left your slightly parted lips, his chocolate eyes moving from your tits to your face, taking in your messy bed hair. Even in moments like this, when his morning wood physically hurt him, he couldn't help but look at you lovingly, his gaze filled with eternal love.

Pedri smirked, and he stated 'why not?' as he started lowering himself to press wet, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone, moving lower to the valley between your breast.

Your peaceful dream has suddenly taken a turn between dreamland and reality, your mind still half asleep as you tried to figure out if what you were feeling is real or just a dream. Regardless, you hummed, laying on your back more comfortably and nuzzling your head into the pillow, giving him more access to your body. Pedri took this as a sign to continue, he looked up at you, seeing that your eyes were still closed, his tongue darted out to tease your nipple, while his hand took care of the other one.

That sensation alone was enough to convince you of reality, your lips curling into a sleepy smile as Pedri pulled the covers to the side, revealing your bare body to him as he continued to kiss down your body, his tongue tasting your skin ever so lightly as he settled between your thighs, his lips leaving love bites. He finally looked up at you, his hands softly caressing your thighs as you hummed and whimpered, a smirk on his lips as he saw your sleepy-lust filled expression.

"Abre las piernas para mí, muñeca," he instructed and you couldn't help but do so, your thoughts filled with the dirtiest images the human brain could imagine. (spread your legs for me, doll)

Pedri's fingers ran over your inner thighs, his touch light and teasing as he eyed your glistening core, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip in anticipation. One of his hands moved to your hip, holding you down against the soft mattress as his finger ran over your folds, producing a dirty, wet sound that made his blind go blank for a second before regaining composure, his two fingers spreading your pussy in front of him. He enjoyed how desperate you were for him, how you bucked your hips begging for more, and he was going to give you everything you asked for.

His breaths came out in short pants, seeing you leak your juices around his fingers as you clenched around nothing. Pedri smirked up at you, obviously loving how you responded to his touch, he was filled with pride and arrogance, knowing he is the only one that gets to see this side of you.

Ending the cruel teasing, he finally lowered himself to your pussy, his brown eyes locked on yours, his fluffy and messy hair (😔😔) resting on his forehead. He ran his tongue over your folds, collecting your juices with the tip of his tongue as you moaned and arched your back into him. Pedri closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your taste against his tongue as he groaned, the vibration only making your thighs tremble even more.

His tongue moved up to your clit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced skill as his mouth sucked on it. Pulling away slightly, Pedri tore his eyes from you, instead, he looked at your pussy, his finger teasing your entrance, making you whimper with need. He smiled wickedly, his chin and stubble glistening with your juices as he did so, slowly sliding a finger inside of you and groaning at the warm, wet place.

"Estás tan necesitada, nena. Tan preparada para mí, tan mojada," he groaned, his middle finger starting to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. (you're so needy, baby. so ready for me, so wet.)

"Más," you managed to breathe out, looking down at him through your eyelashes as he rested between your thighs, watching his middle finger move in and out of you with sloppy sounds that seemed to fade away in the background of your moans.

You gasped and tilted your head back, your eyes closing shut as not only did you feel him add his ring finger, but also felt his tongue and mouth on your clit again, moving more rapidly this time. You moaned, his name rolling off your tongue like honey as his fingers seemed to hit every single one of your sweet spots, curling in that perfect way to push you closer to your orgasm, your sleep long forgotten.

The knot in your stomach tightened, making you clench around his fingers tightly, your hand tangling in his hair and guiding his movements to prevent him from edging you, your moans becoming more loud and desperate as your body spasmed with the intensity of your orgasm. Pedri helped you ride it out, his fingers sliding out of you as they got replaced by his tongue, licking and slurping on your juice like his life depended on it.

As you panted, trying to catch your breath, Pedri lifted himself up, his glistening lips formed into a grin, clearly pleased by how you two started the morning.

"Creo que podría acostumbrarme a mañanas como esta," he said cheekily, kissing your stomach and chest as he towered over you, coming face to face with you, still grinning as his eyes shined with mischief.

You chuckled, wiping his mouth and chin with your palm before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Y creo que podría acostumbrarme a despertarme así," you grinned back with a cheeky giggle. (and i think i could get used to waking up like this) "Round 2?"

[navybrat817]

Sunrises and Sunsets

Pairing: Ranch Hand!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to watch a sunrise with you.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, tooth rotting sweetness, a bit of sass, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @bigtreefest requested for Ranch Hand!Bucky to either Go for a Swim (smut) or dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff - this won with my muse) with prompt #1 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up before the alarm went off thanks to Bucky. He normally did his best not to disturb your slumber if you didn't have to get up right away, unless he wanted you and you would gladly forgo sleep for that. But the soft kisses he placed along your shoulder and neck weren't rushed or needy. In the darkness you reached for his hand and felt him smile against your skin when you took it. It made you smile, too, and your heart beat faster in your chest. Waking up beside him was a gift.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing some of the hair from his eyes when you turned to face him.

“Morning,” he whispered back, kissing the center of your forehead. “Time to get up.”

“No,” you groaned. You didn't glance at the time, but your inner alarm clock knew you had a few more minutes.

He chuckled and nipped your other shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Yes, Sunbeam,” he said, his tongue tracing the spot he bit. “Gonna watch the sun come up together before breakfast.”

“Why?” You asked. Today wasn't a special occasion or anniversary that you were aware of. He would have reminded you at some point or vice versa.

“Because I wanna watch the sunrise with you,” he replied, sliding a finger under your chin before you could hide your face in his chest. The room was dark, but you felt his gaze plead with you to get up. “Please?” He added for good measure.

With another groan, you gave in. “Fine,” you sighed, trying to hide your smile as you stretched under the sheets. You lucked out with Bucky when it came to small romantic moments. What other man would wake you just to watch the sunrise together? “Sun, breakfast, caffeine.”

“Turning on the light,” he warned, giving you time to cover your eyes when he leaned over to flip the lamp switch. He was thoughtful like that. “I didn't hear 'sex with my amazing boyfriend' on that list. Kinda hurts my feelings.”

You giggled and removed your hand, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. “Sex is for after I have my caffeine.”

It was his turn to groan. “Fine,” he mocked in his best imitation of you, making you giggle again. You didn't always laugh this early in the morning and not every day began this bright, but every day was a bit lighter thanks to him. “C’mon. You can sleep later.”

“Whatever you say, Buckaroo,” you said as you sat up. You slid your feet into your slippers, your stomach fluttering because you know you didn't put them back in that spot yesterday. “Thank you,” you said, wiggling your toes.

“Can't let your feet touch the cold floor now, can I?” He winked, stretching as he stood up.

Your throat tightened. It was such a tiny gesture in the grand scheme of things, but it was the little things that mattered. They showed that he paid attention and cared. You tried to do the same for him, like cooking his favorite meals or drawing him a bath after a hard day. You hoped it was enough.

“You’re so good to me,” you said, holding your hands out so he could help you stand.

“We’re good to each other,” he said, pulling you up with ease.

The rough pads of his fingertips rubbed along your skin, a physical reminder of the work he put in day in and day out. His hands made a difference in the world and your life, his calloused touch telling hundreds of stories. Being part of his journey and creating a new story together was something out of a dream. The beauty of it was that your story wasn't over yet.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“I’ll tell you when we go outside,” you replied, not wanting him to miss any of the view. “Do you need to put a shirt on?”

He pulled a hand away to pat his pocket before he smirked and pointed to his washboard abs. “These give me plenty of heat.”

Your gaze went to his torso, heat of your own spreading from your core. Working day in and day out kept him in great shape. He belonged on one of those cowboy romance novel covers. Or a calendar.

I could make a killing with a ranch hand calendar featuring all the guys.

“And for breakfast, I'll make you some humble pie. A big ol’ slice,” you teased.

“Mmm. Pie for breakfast. You do love me,” he joked.

“More than anything,” you smiled.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth, tilting your world on its axis like always. “Love you, too.”

“You have to if you don't care about my morning breath,” you smiled.

He grabbed a couple of blankets as he led you out to the front porch, just in case there was a chill in the air. Another thoughtful gesture. Instead of taking you to the porch swing like you expected, he took you down the steps and laid out one of the blankets in the grass where you sometimes had picnics together.

“Why aren't we sitting in the swing?” You asked.

“I mean, we could sit in the swing and I can put my arm around you.” He sat down and spread his legs out in front of him, patting the spot between them. “But it’s easier to hold you like this and I wanna hold you when the sun comes up.”

“You’re such a sap,” you smiled, happily taking the spot between his legs. “But I like that.”

“You do know I’m only a sap for you, right?”

“I do,” you said, spreading the other blanket across your legs. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.”

“Too late. Everyone knows,” he smiled.

“True,” you said, tilting your head and taking the opportunity to kiss underneath his chin before you looked back at the horizon.

Exhaling, you pressed your back against Bucky’s chest and revelled in the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around you. He occasionally reminded you of the sun. He had fire within him and brightened your world just by being there. But to him, you were the sun.

We're each other's sun and moon.

“So, you just felt like watching a sunrise with me?” You asked.

“Just felt like it,” he agreed, holding you a bit tighter. “I’ve watched sunrises and sunsets more times than I can count, but it’s just different with you.”

“Why is that?” You asked.

“It may not make sense, but the sunrise just looks more beautiful and hopeful because I have someone to share it with. And people say sunsets are a way to reset, but I’m just thankful because it was another day I got to spend with you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple as your heart swelled. “Each day is a blessing because you're in my life.”

You were on the verge of spilling tears, but managed to keep them at bay. “I feel blessed, too,” you whispered.

His chest shook as he chuckled. “I really am a sap.”

“Yeah, but you’re my sap,” you said, tracing the palm of his hand. It was a special thing to bring out that side of him. “You know how you asked me what I was thinking about earlier? I was thinking how your hands can tell so many stories. I think your wrinkles will tell stories, too.”

“My wrinkles?” He asked.

“Yeah. Each is a chapter in your story. Just like every scar,” you answered. Bucky thought every mark on your body was a thing of beauty. You wanted him to feel the same way about his. “They’ll say how you survived hard times. How you lived your life. How you loved.”

“You’re a sap, too,” he teased, catching your elbow before you could ram it into him. “Easy, I’m kidding. I think that’s a beautiful way to look at it.”

There was beauty all around you with Bucky.

“Well, the thought of getting older used to scare me, but it doesn't seem so bad because I have you. We won't have to do it alone. We’ll grow together,” you smiled, gazing at the sky that seemed to stretch on forever. “So when we're older and you have wrinkles and gray hairs, I want you to keep doing this: Wake me up for a sunrise just because you felt like it. Just because you wanted to share one more beautiful moment with me.”

“You wanna grow old with me?” He asked, his voice thicker than you expected. “And on those days, you’ll still love me? Wrinkles and all?”

“Of course, I do. And of course, I will,” you promised. You would love him no matter what. “And you’ll still love me when I grow old?”

“Forever and always,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder when the sun began to rise.

Your heart raced as the hues touched the land you two shared, painting a canvas in glowing rays. He was right that the sunrise was more beautiful and hopeful because you had someone to share it with. And while you were certain there were others watching the sky, this felt like a new dawn just for the two of you.

“It really is breathtaking, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, making your smile widen as your cheeks warmed.

“You flatter me, Buckaroo,” you said affectionately.

Bucky took a deep breath by your ear as you continued to look at the view. “Marry me, Sunbeam,” he whispered.

With wide eyes, you spun around in his arms. You didn't know it, but to him you looked like an angel with the rays growing brighter around you. “What?” You asked.

“Shit. I was supposed to ask you, not tell you. And I was supposed to have something special planned, but I keep carrying this around in case the time’s right and this just seemed right.” He swallowed before he reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small box. “It isn't much. Sure as hell isn't what you deserve and I'm sorry for that,” he said. You covered your mouth with a gasp when he opened it. Simple, beautiful, and a diamond that sparkled like the sun. To you, it was the most beautiful ring to ever exist. “But I love you and I want you to be my wife. I wanna grow old with you and I don't wanna tell the story of my life without you in it. I-”

“Yes!” You shouted into the morning air, knocking him on his back. You were lucky you didn’t knock the ring box out of his hand. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”

“I wasn't done with my proposal,” he chuckled.

“I don't care. I said ‘yes’. Now’s the part where you put the ring on my finger,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. He managed to slip the ring onto your finger with you stretched out on top of him. A perfect fit. “It’s beautiful. Don't ever apologize for giving me something so beautiful.”

The proposal was beautiful, too. It came from the heart at a time he knew was right. You couldn't ask for anything better.

I have the whole world because of you.

You swore you saw the sunrise in his eyes as he framed your face and smiled up at you. “Love you, Sunbeam.”

“Love you, too, Buckaroo,” you whispered, giggling. “And guess what?”

“What’s that?”

“I can change sex with my amazing boyfriend to fiancé,” you smiled.

“Why don’t we skip to that part? I’ll make sure you get some caffeine after,” he smirked. "Deal," you giggled again, leaning down to kiss him.

The sun continued to climb in the sky behind you as he deepened the kiss, bathing you in light as you celebrated the next chapter in your life together.

And with his ring on your finger, you knew you’d forever appreciate every sunrise and sunset even more.

Anyone else get a cavity from this sweetness? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ❤︎ 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

ㅤjavier peña x plus size f!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers/fwb, minors dni

word count: 4.5k

summary: it's the 80s. when the dig you've been working at has to take a short break due to escobar and politics, you decide to wait it out at medellín. while hitchhiking, a charming stranger pulls up.

warnings: mild weed usage (reader), car sex, nipple play, dirty talk, dry humping, age gap, piv, creampie, unprotected sex, brat taming if you squint, some weight-related insecurities if you squint but mostly she's just vibing and living her life

a/n: i would really consider writing more of this so please let me know what you think! a special shoutout to @inklore because i feel like i wouldn't think about hitchhiker smut on the bus if it wasn't for her fic roadside delight which all of you should go and read rn because it's amazing, ily bby 💗

**dividers by the amazing @saradika xx

Raindrops land sparsely over your skin, most of the wetness caught over your cheeks. Sliding down your neck, they sneak beneath the sweetheart neckline of your olive green dress. The skirt dances with the wind, teasing the inner curves of your thighs as it playfully flutters in your wake. Despite the rain, it’s still warm. However, that doesn’t stop the chill of the gray clouds from settling over your skin. With a deep sigh, you lift your thumb once more. 

You have no idea how long you’ve had your thumb sticking up; maybe it’s been only ten minutes or an hour, regardless, you’re frustrated and want the wait to end. 

Some cars had slowed down but upon seeing the men that were driving, you had quickly hidden your thumb away. You knew what they were thinking. Thanks to the rain, there was only little left to the imagination. The dress that already hugged your breasts and hips hugged you even tighter now, the fabric almost sheer as it exposed your tight nipples. You should’ve brought a jacket with you but honestly, how were you supposed to know it was going to rain today? 

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, pushing your wet hair away from your neck in frustration. Not a single car in sight after what you thought had been at least ten minutes of waiting. Clicking your tongue, you reach into your bag, retrieving a lighter and a joint thoughtfully rolled by one of your colleagues at the excavation site. It was greatly appreciated since you weren’t the best at rolling. 

Taking a drag, you sigh, the smoke mingling with the misty air. The excavation site had declared a short break due to some unforeseen issue related to the escalating Escobar problem in the region. It's hush-hush among the team, but you've caught snippets of worried conversations about increased security concerns and the need to lay low for a while. 

Your shoulders relax as the smoke swirls in your lungs, your body now feeling rejuvenated instead of cold under the rain. In the distance, you hear the soft hum of a car approaching and narrow your eyes as you look at the distance. Your eyes light up when you see a car approaching and this time, no matter who’s in it, you promise yourself you’ll just get in. 

The cigarette still between your lips, you lift your thumb with enthusiasm, taking a step further into the road, you giggle slightly thinking you might just as well jump in front of it to make it stop. You want to get out of the rain, want warm clothes and blankets. 

The car comes to a smooth halt. 

You lean towards the already open window, you quickly pluck the join away from your lips and smile broadly at the dark-haired stranger. 

“Hola,” you say, hoping your accent is decent enough. “¿podrías darme un aventón?”

The stranger gives you a curious look, his lips curl upward, eyes dropping to your cleavage before lifting them back up to meet your gaze. Your breath catches in your throat, chest heaving at the sight of him. He’s beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, plump lips. Blinking, you swallow and press your legs together, thankful he can’t see it. 

“Where you headed?” he asks. 

“Medellín,” A timid chuckle escapes your lips. “Did my accent give it away?” 

“A little,” he jerks his head to the side. “Hop in. You must be freezing like that.” 

Grateful, you open the car and slide yourself inside. Warmth immediately envelops you like a cozy blanket and you sigh happily, leaning into the comfort of the seat. “Thanks,” you say, offering your name along with it. “What’s your name?” 

“My name’s Javier. But you can call me Javi.” 

“I think I’ll stick to Javier, I like the way it hits my tongue.” 

He grins, “Do you, now?” 

It takes you everything to ignore the delicious roll of his tongue and how it would feel on your skin. You lift your hand suddenly, the joint visible between your fingers. 

“Is it okay if I smoke this in your car?” 

He looks confused for a brief moment. You notice him taking in deep breaths, sniffing the air, his eyes go slightly wide with realization but then the surprise in his eyes molds into amusement. 

“Go ahead,” he says. “You’re awfully bold to ask that without knowing who I am or what I do. What if I was a cop?” 

“Cops don’t look as good as you do.” 

Shit. 

“I look good?” 

You hear the mirth in his voice and quickly change the subject, “You want one?” 

“No,” he answers firmly. Confusion furrows your brow and his tone quickly softens. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan. And it’s illegal.” 

“Oh, sorry. I can put it out, you don’t have to be nice about it.” 

He thinks about it for a while but shakes his head. “You don’t have much of it left anyway,” The car starts moving and you look at the spot you’ve been waiting at for god knows how long one last time. Good riddance. “So, Medellín, what business do you have there?” 

“No business,” you answer promptly, taking another drag. You blow the smoke out the window, the wind whisking it away. “I’m studying archeology. I was doing research at Ciudad Perdida but we had to take a break for safety reasons. We might still go on so until I get a firm ‘go back home’ I was thinking to wait it out there.” 

“It’s not really safe there either, you know. You gotta be careful when you get there,” he gives you a side glance, eyes moving up and down your curves. Your heart rate escalates and when you press your legs together once more, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re awfully squirmy there,” he says, voice low and all gravel. “You okay?” 

Your veins buzzing, you throw the remainder of the joint out the window. Your head is swimming pleasantly, the smoke loosening your tongue and making you eager to confess all the dirty things you want to do with him. But along with that, uncertainty creeps in. You don’t even know if he wants you that way. He seems older than you. He might’ve just been looking after you and the lust you heard in his deep voice might’ve just been in your imagination. 

“I’m not squirming,” you say quickly. He doesn’t look convinced by your answer, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “How long until we get there?” 

“A couple of hours,” his eyes catch your lingering gaze and he smiles. “There’s a gas station a little ahead so I suggest you go to the bathroom, sweetheart. If you have to go.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“You hungry?” 

Your hand wanders to your stomach, you can’t tell if he’s asking because of your appearance or if it’s a genuine question. He speaks up before you can decide. “I’m starving,” he says. “I also need to buy a pack so if you want anything just tell me. I’ll pay.” 

“I have money.” 

He laughs at that, and laughs even harder at your pout, “You’re a student in Colombia, hitchhiking. I doubt you have much,” he shrugs. “Besides, you’re a guest in this country, let me treat you.” 

“You’re being awfully nice.” 

“Am I? I don’t think so.” You see the gas station coming into view. “But mamá always did say I had a soft spot for pretty girls.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” you answer, hoping to have more a sultry tone but your words come out breathless. Excited. 

The car slows, his eyes are glued to your neck, he slowly moves them down. His dark gaze eating you up. You can almost feel it caressing your skin, heating you, and licking over the waterdrops that stubbornly remains on your skin. 

“Don’t say it like you don’t already know.” The car stops along with your breath. He pulls the keys out and leans close, lips almost touching your pulse. You feel his breath on your ear, warm, it coaxes goosebumps to rise across your skin. His eyes trail over the curve of your lips. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, “No.” 

His lips touch your cheek. It happens so quickly that you feel you might’ve imagined it. The rough hairs above his lip tickle your skin and you instinctively chase the heat of him as he moves away. 

Before you know it he’s out of the car, the patch of skin where his lips touched still burning with delight. Stunned, you touch your cheek with the tips of your fingers. 

Maybe waiting in the rain for someone like him wasn’t so bad after all. 

You should’ve known it would end up like this. 

Him, to park the car in a semi-remote spot. 

You, to cradle his lap, your dress pushed up all the way up exposing your soft thighs with his hands all over you. 

You should’ve known. 

The soft pitter patters of rain hit the top of the car, you’re too occupied by his mouth to realize the sun had slowly started to peek through the clouds, warming the damp concrete. Javier’s tongue is awfully skillful. He slips his tongue between your lips, licking himself deeper into your mouth, his hands pull at your neckline, exposing your bare breasts. He flattens his palms against them, your nipples tighten against the heat of his palm. 

He breaks away with a groan, “I knew you were braless,” he rasps, dipping to your neck. “I fucking knew it.” 

“And I knew you were staring,” you tease and expose more of your neck. He nips at the tender skin playfully, a shiver runs up your spine. “Here I thought you picked me up out of the goodness of your heart.” 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” 

“No—god, no. I don’t ever want you to stop.” 

And that’s all he needs to hear as he lifts your breasts towards his mouth. He dips his head, swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh. Your body seizes. Your breath caught in your lungs, burning like wildfire. He twists the other with his finger and you moan loudly. The fabric of your underwear grows damp, sticking to your skin. He sucks harder. The thick outline of his cock rubs against your core, a feeling like electricity shooting up your spine, your head falls and he bites. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you whimper, grinding down. Another wave of arousal washes over you, the effect of the weed you inhaled pounding between your thighs.  

Javier glares up at you, “Such a dirty mouth,” he grunts and holds your tongue between two fingers. Your brows furrow with pleasure, the hard denim of his pants growing damp thanks to you. “I don’t like bad girls. And you seem to be walking on the edge of it, sweetheart.” 

“I–I’m not bad,” you whimper, your words slurring thanks to his hold on your tongue. He lifts a brow, unconvinced. You don’t know why you’re hurt by him calling you bad, but you want to make it up to him—why you do, you have no idea. “I’ll. . . I’ll be good.” 

“Promise?” 

You only nod and he pinches your tongue, pain blossoms over the soft muscle. 

“Promise,” you slur. “I’ll be your good girl.” 

Satisfied for now, he releases your tongue and brings his hand back to your aching nipples. He sucks on one while pinching the other, both sensations making your mind whirl. 

“You like it when I play with your tits, hermosa?” he groans at the way you rolls your hips, pulling away his lips, he starts playing with both with his fingers. Twisting, pinching, and pulling. You’re trembling. A sopping, wet mess. “So sensitive. You think you can come like this?” 

You only moan, your lids fluttering like a butterfly’s wings as you look at him. He smiles, something dark crossing over his handsome features. “I think you can,” he says. “Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

Slack-jawed, you answer, “Y–Yes.” 

Javier guides the sloppy roll of your hips. His mouth on your neck, he teases the flesh there while mercilessly playing with your tits however he sees fit. Your nipples are so hard from stimulation it almost hurts, Every twist of his fingers prompts a fresh wave of arousal seep into your underwear. Your body is out of control. Burning from the inside out. You’ve never felt it this intense before, never felt your orgasm nearing so viciously. 

His lips hover an inch away from yours, you part your mouth for a kiss but he smiles cruelly, you can smell the hints of tobacco when he speaks, “I can feel how soaked you are, baby. So wet and all for a stranger you just met,” he nips at your chin, gives your nipples a hard pinch that makes you see white. “I wonder if you’d do this with all the others who would’ve stopped for you?” 

“Others did slow down,” you say followed up by an elongated whine. Javier thrusts his hips, the rough denim of his pants catching against your clothed clit. He licks your bottom lip. “But they gave me a weird feeling so I hid away my hand. So. . . I wouldn’t do this with just anyone.” 

“Fuck, preciosa, you’re saying all the right things,” with one hand, he slides your dress up further, fingers teasing your slit. “It’s an honor to have this cunt all to myself.” 

Only then does he kiss you. It’s hungry, depraved. He sucks on your tongue, presses his lips hard into yours. The hand toying with your core moves to your hip, he squeezes your love handle, tugs you down as he thrusts his hips into the air. You cry out and he swallows the wanton sounds that rattle your throat. 

“That’s it, come for me,” he purrs, his hips pressing into yours. You grind down helplessly, aching to feel the hardness of him. Your ears begin to ring. Your body tingling and tensing while the taste of your nearing release stains your tongue. Your eyelids flutter closed, his lips once again drawing an aching nipple into his mouth. He sucks and sucks and sucks—and you finally break down, gushing and squeezing around nothing. You feel the wetness bleeding into the fabric, your legs shaking around where they frame his narrow hips, your head falls over and the soft locks of his hair soothe your burning cheeks. 

Javier is still moving against you. His cock painfully strained against his zipper, coated in your slick. Both his hands drop to your waist, squeezing as he finds your lips, giving you a tender kiss. 

He doesn’t say a word, his hand sneaking between your legs, he slips them under the elastic and pushes two between your folds. You swear you feel his cock throb when he realizes how wet you truly are. 

“Shit,” he breathes out. “Fuck, you really did come. Such a good girl,” he lifts your head by the chin and stares into your eyes, your pulse races again. “Good girl,” he repeats, watching as your lips tighten and eyes go wide. “You feel so good on top of me, making a mess out of these shitty pants. You come so pretty, querida.” 

“Javier,” you moan, your nipples tightening again. 

He pulls his fingers out out and tastes you in earnest, he moans around his fingers, “So sweet.” 

You moan again, the fire between your legs roaring to life. He cups your breasts and pushes them towards you, watching the way your eyes roll, “Let me fuck you in the backseat,” he says, as if you would ever say no to that. “I wanna see this ass bouncing on my cock.” 

No one ever mentions how awkward car sex can be, especially when you need to move around. 

You try not to show it to Javier but you have a sneaking suspicion your face is basically an open book. He slides to the back first, moving between the middle of the front seats. Moving around in a car already makes you awkward, it’s even worse when your tits are out in the open, moving side to side. 

But you guess it can’t be too bad since Javier is staring at them instead of you. 

“Is it bad that I want to play with them some more?” he chuckles.

“Definitely not,” you smile back, the light-hearted conversation gives you the courage to finally move between the seats. He quickly slides to the side, his lips on yours before you can even sit. He strokes his cock through his jeans, tongue dancing along yours, he sucks the air from your lungs. 

“Take off your dress,” he orders, watching, he unbuttons his jeans. You strip quickly, your body already aching to feel him deep inside you. He hums with approval when you’re bare to him, he doesn’t bother taking off his clothes, instead, he slightly pushes down his pants and frees his cock. 

A bead of precome glistens at the head, the head of his cock swollen, a hint of red adding color. He’s thick enough to have your pussy already throbbing. Your mouth waters. Javier wraps a hand around his length and pumps it under your lustful gaze, more precome gathers at the slit, slowly trickling down the side. Your breath hitches when you notice him smiling. 

“You want a taste?” 

You immediately lean down with your tongue out, sucking the tip, you clean him and push yourself further down. Your lips stretch around him deliciously. 

Javier doesn’t allow you to taste him further though, with his hand on your nape, he squeezes, “If you do that I’ll come in seconds.” You look up to him between lowered lashes. “And I’d rather come somewhere else, preciosa.” 

“How do you want me?” you ask, voice horse. 

“On all fours.” 

Again, a bit tricky because you have the constant fear your leg is going to slip and you’re going to fall, but the backseat is comfortable enough for that not to happen. His hands slide up your back and he holds you by the shoulders, bringing you close. His cock pushes between your thighs, parting your folds, your slick wets his cock, making the glide easier. 

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously. “Anyone could see us right now. Anyone who decides to drive by is gonna see us fucking.” 

You don’t expect yourself to clench at his words but you do, a soft whimper echoing from your lips. You can’t see it, but you know he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Does that turn you on, hermosa?” When you don’t answer, he leans closer, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Don’t worry, it turns me on too.” 

Pushing the tip of his cock into you, your chest begins to move with labored breaths. He buries himself to the hilt with ease. A loud moan escapes his lips as his hips are snug over your ass. Your elbows give way, your head dropping to the leather sheets. It feels too good, too full, too intense. Your body breaks in sweat, your body fluttering around and clamping desperately around his cock. His hands follow the curve of your back, laying on top of each ass cheek. 

“Love this ass,” he mutters. “Are you alright? Can I move?” 

“Y–Yeah,” you choke out, desperate. Javier begins to move. Slowly pulling back his hips, he slams into you, ripping a moan from your chest. The leather seats creak as he thrusts into you, his pace gradually picking up. Each time he snaps his hips forward, you feel like your world is spinning. He grips onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you.

“Come on, sweetheart, push those hips back. Prove to me how good you’re feeling on my cock.” 

All coherent thoughts leave your mind as you surrender yourself to the sensations. You meet his thrusts halfway, your body screaming at how deep he is. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, your hard nipples grazing against the leather, it adds to your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the car. He leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck as he groans your name.

You can feel the tension building up inside you, your body on fire. The coil in your stomach tightens, your legs starting to quiver, you gasp his name, barely able to breathe. “Come on my cock,” he commands, licking the start of your spine. Arousal pours between your legs, slick trickling down his cock. “Show me how good you are—” 

You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him. Your breathing is caught in your throat. You roll your hips desperately, begging him to fuck you harder, god deeper—he does. He hammers into you, groaning over and over about how much of a good girl you are. His praise short circuits your brain and another orgasm washes over you, softer this time, but still powerful, enough to have you dripping over the seats. 

Javier continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release. With one final deep thrust, he spills himself inside you, his body shuddering. He grinds his hips, pushing himself deeper until he’s dripping from where he stretches you. You moan his name, your lips moving against the leather. 

Both of you collapse onto the seats, panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. Javier hugs you tight and pulls you up until you’re draped over his chest. You feel pleasantly lifeless, your lids heavy. He strokes your damp hair, fingers grazing over your cheek, he kisses your forehead. The gesture makes your heart swell.

“Mi preciosa, eso fue increíble, fuiste increíble.”

His words were said heavily as if he was barely keeping himself from falling asleep. You smile, burrowing yourself into his neck, you focus on the sweetness of the fleeting moment and not the come dripping out from between your legs. 

“You were the one that was incredible,” you sigh happily. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good in my life.” 

“Let’s just say it was a team effort then,” he grins but his smile quickly falters. “How the hell am I supposed to drive now, I need a nap.” 

“We could. . .” 

He sighs, “Sadly, I have work I need to get to.” 

“You never did tell me what you did for a living,” you muse. “Care to share?” 

His grin is back, lips curling mischievously, he looks you up and down. Your body shudders at the heat of his gaze. 

“We were busy doing other things,” he quickly gives you a peck on the cheek and reaches for your dress. “I’ll tell you later.” 

You pout a bit but shrug it off quickly as you take your dress. To each his own. If he wants to keep his job a secret, that’s fine. You just met him after all. And you’ll probably never see him again after you reach Medellín. 

The thought sours your mood. Turns your stomach. You don’t want to think about that. You don’t want to think about the end. You always did get attached too easily. 

With a sigh, you put on your dress and watch as Javier slides back to the front. You still have a couple more hours with him, you might as well make the best of it. 

The ride had been a pleasant one. You’re pretty sure you talked the poor man’s ear off but he talked a bunch too, telling you about his father, his hobbies—which weren’t a lot—and his dislikes about the city. You had listened with rapt attention, eating up every last detail. But still, you had no idea what he did for a living and refused to ask, not wanting to pry. 

Almost at Medellín, you notice a checkpoint ahead. Your eyes narrow for a better look and groan, these guys meant business, especially when cartels were on the rise. No matter how many times you batted your eyes, you know your bag is going to get checked along with Javier’s belongings. 

“Oh no,” you mutter, prompting Javier’s eyes to shift from the highway to you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I still have a couple of joints in my bag. If they search it I’m toast. They won’t let me go back.” 

You’re not sure why but he smiles, did he know the checkpoint would be here? Your heart drops and stomach lurches. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, then he winks for good measure. “Trust me, querida. You won’t get into trouble.” 

You have your doubts but nod and lean back anyway. The car slows down as you approach the checkpoint, and you can feel the tension building up inside you. Javier pulls the car to a stop, and a stern-looking man walks up to Javier. The officer’s gaze lingers on you before turning to Javier. 

“Documentos e identificación.” 

“Hola,” he greets along with a short nod. “Soy Javier Peña, de la DEA. Estamos de paso.”

Your eyes grow wide when Javier shows his badge to the officer, your jaw nearly drops, blood rushing to your ears. You desperately have the urge to shake your head and yank the badge out of the officer’s hands to inspect it yourself. To feel it under your fingers. 

The officer nods and motions to the others to let you through, “Adelante, buen viaje.”

The car starts to move again and finally—finally, you allow your jaw to drop. 

“You’re DEA?” you ask, upper body rising up from your seat, your tone shrill. Javier doesn’t say anything but he does nod, eyes never leaving the road. “Oh my god,” you say. “Oh my god—why. . why didn’t you tell me? I—I smoked weed in your car! You could’ve arrested me at any given point—I. . . I—” I fucked a DEA agent. 

You drop back down, defeated. 

“You don’t need to worry about me arresting you,” he answers, smiling. “I would’ve if you were a threat but. . . I think we established that you aren’t.” 

“A bunch of criminals fuck with agents you know,” you snap, weirdly offended. “Just because we did it doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.” 

“Do you want me to arrest you, hermosa?” 

Cuffs do sound tempting but you aren’t playing that game right now, “No. . .” 

“Good, we’re on the same page then,” he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “My intention wasn’t to trick you or anything. You already seemed miserable under the rain, waiting for that long. I didn’t want to stress you further. And you can’t really blame me for thinking like that when the second sentence you said was ‘do you want a joint’ you would’ve freaked out. Am I wrong?” 

“No,” you say, clearer this time. “I still feel embarrassed though.” 

“You’ll live.” Finally entering the city, he turns to you, meeting your gaze. It’s a bit ill-advised since he’s driving but you appreciate having his full attention. “Where should I drop you off?” 

Oh. 

“I. . actually don’t know. Do you know any good places to stay? A room I can book on short notice?” 

“You don’t have a place to stay?” 

“I’m a girl who was hitchhiking through a country I don’t know. Do I look like someone with a plan?” 

“Fair enough,” he says, eyes turning back to the road. “Well, this is going to sound weird but you can stay with me if you want to.” Before you can answer, he adds. “I have a spare room.”

Saying yes is easier than you thought. 

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

thoughts on 268 and megumi

This post is going to be a long discussion of how I interpret Megumi's situation with both Sukuna and with Yuuji. I do detail some of my own experiences with mental health and how my interpretation of the chapter and Megumi's characterization are influenced directly by it.

(tw: discussions of depression/mental health/suicide/suicidal ideation)

First of all, people respond and interpret and react to media/stories differently. Just because someone has a different take than you does not mean that they are wrong! Those feelings come from a very real place and it's important to process and converse about media with that sort of empathy in mind.

Moving on to the actual analysis part, there is one central theme and framing that I'm starting to believe gege has intended to use Megumi's situation as a metaphor/allusion for: mental illness/suicidal ideation.

Megumi is trapped within himself, stuck in darkness that he can't seem to find his way out of by himself. His condition only grew worse and worse the longer he spent time stuck in his own body to the point where we began to see a lot of self-destructive tendencies and suicidal ideation from him. He didn't care if he lived or died, the most important thing to him was to just stop feeling everything that was hurting him and for the others to stop working so hard and putting themselves in danger to help someone he believed wasn't worth the effort.

We see Sukuna trying to convince Megumi not to fight back and to give in to his control. He throws accusations at Megumi that we as the audience know are manipulations of reality, but they are the words that someone dealing with depression will hear from their inner worst self no matter how twisted they are from reality.

The twist here is that Megumi tells Sukuna that he has never intended on living a life he personally cares about, but that he's going to continue to let the people he loves anchor and tether him to life.

And then Megumi is literally pulled from the darkness through the actions of someone else/someone who loves him. Yuuji is fighting for Megumi and his words and actions have finally made an impact and helped Megumi fight back.

And the crazy thing is, Sukuna chases after him. Depression and mental health are constant struggles even after recovery. It feels like there's a constant pressure not to backslide into bad habits and spiral back down the depression rabbit hole. Mental health struggles will always linger, but that's why we have to fight back and choose to want to get better.

The biggest divide in the fandom reaction to 268 is Megumi's words "just once more, I want to try living for someone else."

Now, I think the words "I'm doing to live for someone else" have been taken so literally by people that they think it means "and therefore I am not living for myself." Those two things are not opposites, but go hand in hand!

I can agree this decision gege made for him is not as satisfying as Megumi choosing to live for himself, but I do believe this was a purposeful decision and that it is the most realistic choice for someone in Megumi's position.

Not to get too specific, but for a couple of years the only thing keeping me from a complete spiral into an actual contemplation of suicide was because of my relationships to other people. I stayed alive because of them. I barely took care of myself and basically forced myself to do the bare minimum because I knew that somehow there were people in my life who wanted me to live.

I could not live for myself. I did not care for or love myself in the slightest, so why would I try to make my life better? The only reason I actually started caring about myself was because other people cared for me first. They told me I was loved, that they enjoyed spending time with me, that I was someone who would be missed if things ever did go south.

That's why Yuuji being the catalyst behind Megumi's decision to fight was so impactful to me, because Megumi was me.

Megumi's decision being influenced by his relationship with Yuuji instantly reminded me of one of my favorite monologues from Fruits Basket where they discuss self love and how choosing to care about your own life isn't as simple as many neurotypicals often make it out to be. It's a scene that was heavily impactful to me when I was going through my worst times and I feel like it really puts Megumi's choice to live for the sake of others in perspective.

"There was a time when I stopped talking, like you. The reason was a little different, but I think the feelings of shame and self-hatred are similar. Your teacher advises you to “love yourself”. What does that even mean? “Look for good points"… how is someone supposed to find those? I only knew the things that I hated about myself. The whole reason we despise ourselves is because we can only see the parts we hate, so forcing ourselves to find good things feels pointless, like we'd just be making them up. It's a nice sentiment, but it’s not always that simple. Instead, I think it's when someone else says they love you that you're finally able to begin to love yourself. When someone truly accepts who you are, that's when you can start to forgive yourself and suddenly see the good things you've had all along."

This scene hit me hard when I first watched it. It was exactly what I needed to hear: that I wasn’t weak and pathetic for not being able to see a future for myself on my own. I wasn't weak because I had to rely on the support of others to keep my head above water. I wasn't weak because I needed their love and praise to enable me to see those very same aspects about me that they loved!!!

Living for the sake of others is not the end all be all of recovery. That is merely the first step: recognizing that you are loved and that you want to live because others want you to live. That is not where recovery stops! It's a long, arduous journey where you eventually have to choose to live for yourself because you want to. But sometimes that decision is so daunting and feels so impossible when you're in the thick of it that it can completely crush your spirit.

When you're at the end of your rope, it's the people you love who tie you back down.

In my mind, Megumi didn't choose to fight or live only because of Yuuji. Yuuji was the catalyst, but not the entire purpose. Megumi heard that he was loved by someone, and because he loved them in return he chose to fight. He wanted to experience that love and thus show Yuuji that he was loved in return by fighting to stay with him.

[merrygay]

The Ghoul's dilemma

Cooper Howard x Vault Dweller! Reader

Warning : NSFW, Dark Themes, reference to cannibalism, afab reader. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.

Synopsis : Kill you, claim you or ruin you ? hard to choose.

He looks at your eyes, then your lips, he seems lost in his own thoughts, it wasn't like him to be so troubled, but now the infamous ghoul is fighting with his inner self.

Part of him wants to take you, claim you as his own, forever more, until the pit of hell swallows him whole if it still hadn’t already. 

He was a walking sin, a rotten old man with nothing but impure thoughts along side you, oblivious to everything despite your efforts to adapt to this world ending in failure. 

He could just kill you and be done with all this torment, he could just be the reason for your awaiting death, because it has to be, you should have died a long time ago, you weren’t fit to this world and he wasn’t fit for you.

But despite all of this he decides to spare your life, a selfish decision on his part, but surely you don’t mind do you now ? You don’t really have a choice considering your high percentage of chance being dead out there in the wasteland if you were alone.  

After letting you live, he thought he would sell you to the organ harvester. At least you would be useful to him, he told himself, denying the fact that the only reason he spared your life was because of how possessive he had slowly become of you.

Cooper thinks he has the upper hand, after all, the ghoul holds your life in his palm, but in reality you have him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

He’s still a grumpy old man who’s too proud to admit his obsession infatuation towards you.

And then there’s one night

You pressed your body against him so suddenly, your shirt rode up just enough to reveal the beginning of your breasts, which made him freeze not expecting your sudden movement, you were usually too scared of him to even approach him on a daily basis.  

"I thought I told ya to keep your damn space," he grumbled. But his words trailed off as he noticed your sleeping form, completely unaware. His eyes lingered on your body, frustrated by the shirt that did nothing to help his resolve. Your intoxicating scent was almost too much for him to bear. 

200 years old, he had outlived practically every person he had known, yet he couldn't even keep himself in check because of some naive girl. He cursed himself.

But oh no no, you are not just any naive girl, are you? After all, he had met and killed tons of stupid women, but you? He can't quite pinpoint why he wants needs you. Perhaps it's a primal instinct that keeps growing as you stay beside him. Maybe it’s because he wants to eat you? Was that it? Yes Maybe it is his growing hunger for you.

With just one easy movement, he could easily be on top of you, roaming his hands all over your body, unsullied by the radiation or anything for that matter, just a perfect doll to play with. 

He could just ruin you. Bite you, lick you, taste that delicious body while being inside of you. Taking all the innocence that is left for his own sexual pleasure. Never stopping, pumping you full of his cock. He would be nice enough to wipe away your tears as you can’t help but whimper and moan. 

“Fuck.., yeah I know shh i know darling’, i'm a bad man i’m bad bad man” he would grunt while he spreads your legs wider to give him more access.

“S-sir ?” you say nervously. You were fully awake by now realizing the mistake you made, you rapidly moved away from him. 

Your voice brought him back to reality, he didn’t realize he was fixing you all along. 

“I'm sorry i didn’t do it on purpose” you gulped. He was silent for a second before readjusting his hat while turning his back to you.

“Git back to sleep, ain’t haulin’ ya sleepy ass tomorrow”

He felt his pants tighten, which only fueled his annoyance. He would deal with it later, once you fell back asleep, succumbing to the very same fantasy.

The ghoul had a huge ego, too confident, but right now he was desperate, and you made him like this. 

[desultory-novice]

White-Haired Noir (Older)

I wasn't kidding when I said Noir has become more of "my OC" than before. Anyway, they tell me cringe is dead, so let's get on with it!

BE HAPPY TEENAGE BOY ...Uh... ADULT MALE??!

(Pictured: Would you believe this guy was once my Dark Matter Swordsman???)

No longer a teary-eyed apprentice, White-Haired Noir in ~the future~ (circa Star Allies??) has become a knight in his own right, swearing his service to Dedede as thanks for helping house the bruised, battered, emotionally unstable teen boy so many years ago.

Dedede Stop Adopting People Challenge (impossible)

Over the years (and with plenty of hard hitting, gloves-off training from Meta Knight) Noir has both grown up and grown accustomed to life on Popstar. He's regained some semblance of a life (gasp!) and inner peace. (...When Popstar's not being invaded, that is.)

He has friends (and rivals), is able to stomach food and drink a bit better, and has accepted Gooey, finally. He can even speak positively of his lost childhood with his little sister, on occasion.

Despite Popstar's generally warm weather, the Shiver Star native continues to dress in highly concealing fashion, as his upper body still bears the scars of his interrupted Dark Matter transformation; one reason he grew his hair out long was to help conceal the ones on his neck better, so as not to frighten the younger Waddle Dees.

[Assorted Text Wall Below]

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Age Range: Mid 20s and up (Tbh, his specific age'll probably fluctuate depending upon the kind of story I want to tell. This is, quite simply, an adult Noir who's got his life more together.)

Abilities: Mild regenerative abilities, magic reflection, healing/purification, light projection [Rainbow Sword] 

Protective magic and various physical ability-boosting magic [These come courtesy of the crystals adorning his jacket, a gift from the Queen of the Fairies. Noir is still a squishy human, after all. His fine swordplay aside, he needs magical enhancements to not get accidentally steamrolled by Kirby's other friends.]

Hobbies: swordplay, stargazing, crochet (Taranza taught him the last one, both as a mental grounding exercise and to help rehabilitate Noir's Dark Matter corrupted hands for performing delicate tasks. Half of Dream Land has one of Noir's early crochet octopi sitting in their storage. Nowadays, he makes toys for the younger Dees.)

Etc: Because of his closeness with King Dedede (and in large part due to their matching scarves/sashes), his general protectiveness of the Waddle Dees, as well as his fairy-tale outfit (which Ribbon helped with) Noir has picked up nickname of the "Prince of Dream Land"

A highly unfitting one, Noir has been heard to privately complain. In what world could an unwashed, damaged, sharp-tongued orphan with hands near-literally dyed in blood become a prince...?

Height-wise, if we consider King Dedede to be one of a breed of extinct "mega penguins" then Noir, fully grown, is of comparable height. (Dedede insists he's taller because of this crown puff. Huzzah! His title as king is safe!) In human terms, this does make Noir a short king :cough: prince, which in his case is due to malnourishment, physical abuse during puberty, and just plain genetics. ^^;

Anyway, despite how shockingly decent he looks cleaned up, Noir is still a feral cat at heart, and he hasn't lost his sass either, even if the edges have been somewhat filed off with time.

(Even the most angsty and tragic of emo boys can only go so many years with sparkly, shimmering, pastel rainbow hair (1) before they give up the act and start smiling ju~st a little more! ^_-)

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(1) It is completely impossible for Noir to return his hair to its original dark maroon/black, btw. Even the strongest dye refuses to stick.

...And yes, he has attempted.

--

(Q: When is this...? Cause he still looked 16 in that FL comic you did.) (A: That's because I hadn't thought ahead when I wrote it! This form is basically meant as something to pull out for the later games with some extra padding for any future games/events. >w< )

(Q: So... is that FL comic still Apologies canon?) (A: ~ish! He would definitely be his older self now. That said, this Noir did still encounter Elfilin by chance, immediately recognized him as ID-F86, and had a PTSD episode over it, dredging up old memories he'd believed he had come to peace with. It was the closest the Dark Matter in Noir had come to re-awakening in years. Elfilin's sincere apology to the innocent victims of Forgo's rage helped Noir keep from losing himself completely and he was able to recover.

Also, following Crystal Shards, Noir DID resume having daily nightmares about Adeleine and her fate. That was why MK encouraged him to stay with the fairies of Ripple Star for a time and recuperate; that Noir could resume his training with Meta Knight later on. The grateful fairies all turned out to completely ADORE him - particularly, his shining rainbow hair. This period away from Popstar meant that he totally missed out on Amazing Mirror though.)

(Q: If he missed Amazing Mirror, what games DIDN'T he miss?) (A: He was actually there for a somewhat altered version of Meta Knightmare Ultra in Planet Robobot! It was his first "mission" with his teacher. (And I have a fanfic brewing about that, thanks to the anon who asked what if Noir got within wishing distance of Star Dream...)

Unlike Meta's relationship with Kirby, where Meta trusts Kirby to bounce back from everything and is excited :wipes drool off face: to see how much Kirby will grow, Meta Knight tries (somewhat) to keep his very human disciple out of danger, if he can. He's not soft on him by any means, with hard blows and even harder life lessons, but he knows that Noir came to them hanging onto life by a very frayed thread and he only pushes as far as he believes Noir can take.

Nowadays, he's much more trusting of him to handle himself.

(Q: Assuming he was in SA, where was he during TDX, RtDL, and FL? (A: In both Triple Deluxe and Forgotten Land, he was away from Popstar. Record of Stopping Dedede Abductions: 0/2. He rolled his eyes at a giant beanstalk erupting from Dream Land leading to a kingdom in the clouds "...You're kidding?" and Dedede was stomping mad when Noir laughed outloud about the story of the abduction - which concealed the fact that Meta Knight WAS LAUGHING TOO.

In Return to Dream Land, Noir was still on Popstar but didn't participate in the adventure in any capacity. When everyone returned and told the tale of Magolor's betrayal, his response was a deadpan, "Okay but you all saw that coming a mile away though, right? .........Tell me you saw that coming." He was a little less sassy when he heard Magolor's downfall came at the hands of a corrupting artifact.)

(Q: Wasn't Noir taller than Dedede in that one random sketch?) (A: As an Earth human. Noir eventually became Popstarian size.)

(Q: It's nice that he's okay but... but Adeleine... ; _ ; ) (A: Yeah... However, similar to Blade and Gooey in the main verse, in the AU AU, it was Painter who took care of and sheltered the Dark Matter outcast. Noir initially hated Gooey, because he despised Dark Matter for destroying his family and he hated it every time Gooey tried to approach him - like a sign that he would never escape his mistakes. Only later was he forced to confront Gooey and realize that Gooey was always seeking Noir out because of Adeleine's memories Gooey had taken in. They eventually had a painful heart to heart, where Noir was able to experience his sister's last memories through Gooey. Noir now lets him wear Painter's beret in memory of her.)

--

Anyway, that's now two (and a half (?) if you count "Snowflakes") Noirs who have escaped the cycle of misery! Hooray!

Don't worry, Main Timeline Noir, your salvation comes next............Probably???? >w<

[antimatterz]

solace

dan heng x gn!reader

summary: life has gotten you down, but he won't let you give up. he's there to hold you together, and he won't let go.

cw: suicidal thoughts – do not read if this triggers you. hurt/comfort, dan heng being the sweetest.

enyo's note: don't mind me this is very self-indulgent. i'm not in a good place at the moment and i would love a dan heng to help me through it. not proofread & might take it down, actually.

content under the cut | masterlist

the world had gotten you down.

ultimately, fighting your mental battles got the best of you. for aeons, you had been fighting the demons in your mind. day after day, you struggled to fend off the darkness, but the shadows that shrouded your inner flame had won. you had been tearing at the seams for months, but you finally broke.

your thoughts were dark, consuming you whole. you were suffering, all on your own. why did life bring nothing but turmoil? you wanted peace, you wanted to enjoy being alive, you wanted to serve a genuine smile to the people around you. but your demeanor was fake, nothing but an act you carefully put on to fool the others. again, you carried your burdens on your own, and you succumbed underneath the heavy weight of it all.

you no longer experienced happiness, all you felt was gloom and misery. you were hopeless, frustrated, frantically holding on to the final strands of light that were rapidly vanishing. honestly, why were you even still alive?

maybe giving up wasn't that bad.

those thoughts pestered you as you spent your time alone in your room. you had reached your breaking point and distanced yourself from your friends. you didn't have the energy left to put on an act, you couldn't muster a fake smile anymore. it was game over for you. life had won.

you had no more tears left to cry as you lay in bed, curled up into a little ball. you've spent the last few hours like that, staring ahead as you let the darkness consume you.

you hadn't eaten today, and your stomach felt empty. but what did it matter? you felt empty in general, you had gotten used to it and it didn't bother you anymore. you deftly ignored it, not even motivated to take care of yourself properly. what did it matter, anyway? you didn't care.

there was a knock on your door, one that you didn't respond to. you didn't want to see anyone, let alone have to explain your miserable state. you chose to suffer alone, after all, not wanting to worry the others. your burdens were yours to carry, you didn't want to bother them with it.

again, the idea of giving up crossed your mind – like it did every other minute. all your struggles, all your burdens, everything would be gone and you would finally have peace. you didn't have any hope left for things getting better. what was the point of trying? maybe life wasn't meant for you. clearly, your mind wasn't wired for this world.

whoever it was at your door knocked again, but you remained silent. you were so far gone, wallowing in the darkness. however, the person didn't give up, and the door carefully slid open.

"y/n?" a familiar voice called out.

you said nothing, not turning around even when dan heng shut the door behind him. footsteps inched closer, increasing speed as he neared your bed.

the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down.

"march was worried about you because she hasn't seen you in two days," the male explained, hesitating for a moment. "and honestly, so am i. this is very unlike you. are you okay?"

hearing his voice was nice, you had to admit that. it was true; you hadn't spoken to anyone for the past two days, which was sure to raise concern. although you still weren't sure if you were in the mood to face anyone, you still sat up, aversively facing dan heng. you considered lying, simply playing it off as the flu that got you down. but one look into his solemn grey eyes swayed you from your original plan.

"no," you replied, voice breaking. "no, i'm not okay."

dan heng's usually stoic face fell, genuine concern falling upon his features. you must've looked terrible – tired, dead on the inside, dull eyes. your will to live was close to zero at the moment, and it was probably very obvious from the way you looked at him.

he searched your eyes, as if they would tell him what was wrong. for some reason, the way he gazed at you had you feeling vulnerable, tears welling up in your eyes. you felt your will to remain strong in front of others faltering, and it wasn't long before the first sob racked your body.

"hey," dan heng said, surprise lingering his tone. he was quick to reach out and grab your hand, completely dropping his usually cold and distant demeanor. "y/n, what's wrong?"

"everything," you admitted shakily. "dan heng, why is life so hard? why is it trying so hard to bring me down? it's not fair, i try so hard but it just doesn't get better." you were silent for a moment, wondering if you were really going to admit your darkest thoughts to him. you pursed your lips. what did it matter? what was stopping you? maybe it was nice to confide in someone. especially dan heng, the one you considered your closest friend. you continued, "the idea of giving up becomes stronger with every moment that passes. i don't want to live like this anymore."

the raven-haired male seemed genuinely shocked by your confession. his eyes widened, but he quickly recollected himself and shot forward like a bullet fired from a gun. you stumbled back in surprise, but he caught you before you could fall. ever so gently, he cupped your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that spilled.

"y/n, i had no idea you were going through this," dan heng mumbled. "why did you pretend to be happy all the time? why didn't you tell anyone about your suffering?"

"i don't know," you said, lightly shaking your head. "i guess i just didn't want to worry anyone. what goes on in my head isn't pretty. i just kept telling myself it would be better to disappear and–"

"stop right there," the male hushed you, removing one hand from your cheek to press his index finger against your lips. "you're very important to me, angel. i don't want you to suffer alone and even more, i do not want you to go."

there was nothing left of his usual placid demeanor, and the look in his eyes was soft as he gazed at you. it almost made you tear up again, this time for entirely different reasons. this side of dan heng was completely new to you, and it lit a small spark within you. you leaned into his touch carefully, closing your eyes in a small moment of peace. the storm in your mind ceased for a blissful second, and you relished in the feeling dan heng brought you.

"listen, y/n. please don't do this to yourself. please, just reach out to me if your thoughts threaten to get the best of you. you don't have to carry everything on your own. you have march, you have me. and there's welt and himeko. we're a family, we are here for you and wouldn't be complete without you."

dan heng looked at you intently, and you nodded. he was right, you had lost sight of your reasons to live, but he reminded you. you had your astral express family, you had dan heng – who just came to save you from your darkest moment.

letting out a small sigh, he wrapped your arms around you and gently pulled you down with him. you lay like that, safely in his embrace. you felt your inner flame light up a little, and faint strands of hope intertwined with the darkness that occupied your mind, shining a new light. dan heng probably had no idea what he just did. suddenly the idea of ending it all lost its appeal, as if dan heng's embrace mended the pieces of you that had been shattered. he held you together, he saved you from falling apart. you gathered your thoughts, gathered your will, bringing new life to what seemed hopeless at first.

"thank you," you muttered, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

in response, dan heng gently kissed the top of your head. the loving gesture brought a faint smile to your face – tiny, barely there, but genuine. he was right, you weren't alone.

dan heng was your solace.

[gerryrigged]

dicktim - La Beau Au Bois Dormant

idea gripping my tired brain by the throat about Tim being struck by some kind of sleeping beauty poison or spell and falling comatose.

Except the solution is not True Love's Kiss but sending someone inside his soul to battle the dragon that will manifest from his inner demons to keep him imprisoned, forever.

The highest chance for success necessitates sending in the one person that the sleeper trusts most - often their love, hence the poison/spell's reputation, but not always.

And almost everyone immediately turns to Dick, like in you go, Nightwing, what are you waiting for.

Which Dick. Doesn't know how to react to, because. God he would give anything to be that person for Tim again. But he knows that he broke something between them when he stripped away Robin.

They've moved past it, they're...fine. But Dick knows. It's not the same. They aren't the same.

He can't help Tim with this. Tim probably wouldn't even want him to try. And that kills him, but he won't sabotage Tim's only shot to wake up because of his own desperate wish to still be the one Tim turns to first. His north star.

There's a ticking-clock time limit before Tim won't be able to wake up at all. They don't have any time to lose.

He looks away from everyone's expectant, demanding stares.

"Call Superboy," he says, voice scraped raw from his throat. "Or Kid Flash. They'll get here in time."

He can't stand the disappointment on Bruce's face. It makes helpless anger boil hot and toxic in his belly. Bruce wasn't here for everything that happened. He doesn't know.

(Dick's never told him. How badly he fucked up.)

"Wait, not his boyfriend?'" Steph says, raised eyebrows and gesticulating at nowhere in particular and Dick's churning thoughts sputter and die into frozen blankness. Boyfriend?

Babs shakes her head on the Batcomputer's view screen.

"They're not at that level of trust yet. They haven't even been dating that long, Tim definitely hasn't told him about - " she twirls a finger, indicating all of them. Red Robin on the medical bed, cowl pushed down and cape pooled around him. The Cave, vaulting overhead. " - all of this. And he won't thank us for doing it for him."

Tim...has a boyfriend?

Wow. His little brother used to always want his advice on love. Life. Everything. If he doesn't trust Dick enough anymore to tell him even that much... Well. It just proves definitively that Dick isn't the right person for this job.

(It hurts like Dick's vital organs are being crushed in a massive fist.)

"Time is ticking," Jason Blood says quietly, looking down at the open face of his pocket watch. At his feet, a circle of lit candles awaits someone to sit down inside and sink into an enchanted meditation.

"Father, clearly it should be you," Damian says, tapping his foot rapidly. His arms are crossed tightly under his cape in a way that he probably means to come across as scornful, rather than apprehensive. "Or Pennyworth, even."

Bruce shakes his head, troubled. "No. I don't think so. Cassie...?"

"No," Cass responds calmly. "Not me." She seems untroubled by her own denial, even though she and Tim have been thick as thieves ever since she returned to Gotham.

She's looking at Dick. She hasn't looked away from Dick this whole time, or let go of Tim's hand, folded in hers protectively, over his heart.

"It's still you, big brother," she says. Gentle and direct and devastating. "Go. Bring him back."

Not so long ago, Tim trusted Dick to catch him when he fell.

Or, he was depressed and passively suicidal and telling Dick what he wanted to hear. Maybe he even believed it, after the fact.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He's Dick's brother. Dick will always, always be there to catch him, whether Tim trusts him to or not.

Dick goes.

He faces Tim, sinks into lotus inside the ring of flickering little flames, and closes his eyes, heart in his throat.

He opens his eyes. A vast, jagged bramble forest looms dark above him. Far in the distance, he can just make out a spindly tower piercing the sky, a flickering little light shining at the top.

He hacks his way through the biting brambles of Tim's resentments, leaving blood and sorrows dripping from the thorns in his wake.

He fights the sly, sinuous dragon of Tim's despair, singing with every breath that he can spare, so that Tim might hear him and know he's not alone.

He wishes he could remember happy songs, bright and lively songs - wishes he could be the light in the darkness that Tim deserves, that he looked up to and chased after and for some reason tried to model himself upon, even when he was already so very bright himself.

But any song is better than none to pierce the lonely vault of silence, so he sings of pain, of loss, of faith and faithlessness. Of holding on past the point of breaking. He sings of two hands open and outstretched, waiting to be clasped and held.

When his voice falters, when adamant scales break his sword and claws shatter his shield, he throws himself at the winged serpent, letting it coil about him and grappling it in turn. Fangs strike at him again and again, piercing flesh and armor both, before he winds his arms around its jaws and holds them shut.

It hisses through clenched teeth about failures, his and Tim's both. He holds its jaws shut, and sings of two ships tossed in a maelstrom, anchored to each other, weathering the storm.

It hisses, venom dripping from its furious curled lips, about abandonment and betrayal. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about two robins, flying with an olive branch held aloft between them.

It hisses to him of ice unending, frozen hearts, shattered trust. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about the steady radiating warmth of a hearth, of a hug, of a new dawn. Of new beginnings.

He rests his forehead on the dragon's growling snout, and sings, "Come home with me. Come home to me. Tim, I love you. Tim, Tim, Tim."

The beast shudders and shivers. And starts to break apart.

The crumbling wings buffet and beat at Dick even as they begin to crack and collapse. Dick lowers his head and holds on tighter.

The massive coiled tail squeezes around Dick convulsively, thrashing and withering. Dick's ribs crack, but he holds on tighter.

Scales etched with Tim's regrets flake off and fall away, like a tree shedding razor edged leaves in autumn. Dick closes his eyes as they kiss and cut his already tattered skin, but just holds on tighter.

Eventually, the violent disintegration comes to an end, and all goes still and quiet.

Save for a familiar shape shaking and weeping in Dick's arms.

Dick opens his eyes, blinking away sweat and blood just to be sure. But yes. It's him. Blue eyes reddened with tears, staring in horror at the ragged torn-up mess of his older brother, come to rescue him.

"Tim," Dick sighs, bones papier-mâché from relief. And exhaustion. "Timmy. Thank god."

"Dick," Tim cries out, gripping him tightly in distress. He lets go immediately at Dick's wince, and tries to pull away. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm - your wounds, we have to - "

Dick doesn't let him move an inch. "Shhhhhh," he breathes. "It's a dream, don't worry about it." Tim wriggles in protest at first, determinedly attempting to staunch some of the heavier bleeding, but Dick just holds him tighter. "Please, Timmy," he begs. "Please. Just let me."

Tim's breath hitches, then he wraps his arms around Dick just as hard as Dick is squeezing him, strong and anchoring. Dick's own breath shudders on the edge of a whine, and he buries his nose in Tim's hair.

-----

"Missed you," he whispers hoarsely, several minutes later.

Tim lifts his face from where he's been leaking a silent wet spot into Dick's collarbone.

"Missed you, too," he whispers back, as if they're sharing secrets and might be overheard.

Then Tim hesitates, before setting his mouth firmly. He meets Dick's gaze, and there's a fierce light in his still reddened eyes that transfixes Dick. He almost lost this. He almost lost Tim - so many times, more than he probably even knows about. He never wants to look away.

"And I love you, too, you know. That's never changed. It never will change." His brow is furrowed intently, gaze searching Dick's, like he can find and burn away any hint of doubt or disbelief.

"I know," Dick murmurs, warm down to his battered toes. Tim's alive. Tim's going to wake up, and keep living. Tim loves him, and forgives him, and still trusts him more than anyone else. "I do know. I - "

He releases one arm from its death grip, because he can no longer resist the urge to cup Tim's face, stroke a thumb across his cheek. Tim closes his eyes briefly as he covers Dick's hand with his, leaning into it, brows still drawn together. Like he's in pain, even though all the dings and scratches are on Dick, not him.

Dick's heart seizes.

He dips down, to the impossibly inviting bow of Tim's mouth, and kisses him. At Tim's small, quiet gasp, he gentles further, catching Tim's lips, pulling the full lower curve between his own in a soft tug. To his delight, Tim follows him, chasing his mouth, and they share the sweet cling and press, back and forth.

-----

Dick's wounds are somehow all still present upon waking. Magic, ugh, such a pain. The resulting frenzy of medical attention and getting bundled into another bed - too far away from Tim - like he's one foot through death's door isn't exactly fun, either.

(But still. Well worth it, for that first moment Tim's eyes flutter open and hazily lock on his. The world can keep spinning, now that Dick knows Tim is safe.)

As it turns out, Tim's recollection of what happened inside his own soul is equally hazy.

He remembers enough to melt bonelessly into Dick's chest when Dick sneaks over to share his bed, which dissolves the hard knot of worried tension in Dick's chest that he wouldn't remember anything, that he'd be back to subtle distance and awkward texts and not even feeling comfortable enough to share that he likes men, and Dick. Isn't sure he could have handled that.

So he ignores his aching ribs and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds and curls around Tim with his whole body, warmth and gratitude suffusing every aching muscle.

Tim...doesn't seem to remember the kiss. Which. Is a shame.

But Dick remembers it. Every moment is burned into him like the most intimate pyrography. That will have to be enough, until he can make it happen again.

(Tim's boyfriend doesn't stand a chance.)

[hanibalistic]

#477694 | LEE HEESEUNG.

genre | fluff

word count | 2599

warning | none​

note | standing under the rain i will never forget you

heeseung didn't like the rain, but still, he headed into it.

his visible inner debate with himself after catching a glimpse of you outside the window almost felt silly.

it started with a double-take. he had to make sure it was you standing outside in the rain, but he subconsciously knew he could pick out just your silhouette, even in a sea of people, so he could not have been wrong. then it was laughter, a scoff, and a murmur of disbelief directed at himself for thinking there could be anybody else in this world choosing to be drenched in dirt rain but you. after the laugh was a sigh—a defeated sigh, one that indicated his familiarity with your almost egocentric mindset and his faint distaste of it.

he dropped his pen, the scientific explanation he was writing promptly abandoned, then he picked it back up with a forced grimace. he cleared his throat and mind by gripping the pen uncomfortably tight. the tip of the pen repeatedly pushed against the same spot on his workbook, leaving an increasingly prominent black dot. he urged himself not to look outside the window; the same reminder fed his curiosity to do so. he took a peek. a peek so short because he was quick to catch himself, but not short enough to not see you from his peripheral vision, still standing out in the rain.

"you don't even like the rain, heeseung," he whispered to himself as he adjusted his position on the chair.

he didn't add anything else to the unconvincing argument. his dislike for rain, the humid air it brings, the dirt puddle it forms, and the soak it creates on the fabric were real. but, whatever he was going to add, he knew was going to be about how he felt for you, and he knew it would have to be a lie if his goal was to stay indoors where warmth resided. he couldn't add anything more; thus, his argument not to head outside remained unconvincing.

"you don't care, heeseung," he told himself quietly before pursing his lips into a thin, unforgiving line. the lack of subject matter was too deliberate for its intention to be lost on him—he didn't care about what? about the rain? he did care about the rain, he hated it! about you? he did care. that's why he was debating himself in the first place!

heeseung dropped the pen again, this time with more force as he threw it. he put his head in his hands, rubbed his face into a rash-like redness, paused to gather his thoughts for a moment, and ran his hands through his hair to get them out of his eyes. he stared ahead at the wall above his desk. it was plastered with memories—polaroids pictures of his friends, calendar dates from the past he never bothered to wipe off, keychains, and a corner collage of different flower petals he stuck to the wall with scotch tape peeled into the tiniest shreds.

you picked them out for him. you never take the whole flower, just one petal. when he asked you about it, you said taking the entire flower from its root was too much responsibility. he wasn't asking you about that, he wanted to know why you kept giving him flower petals, but he didn't correct your answer.

"god damn it."

he begrudgingly got up from the chair. it screeched when he did so. he turned to his closet and picked out a random jacket that didn't match his homey outfit. he put it on as he left his room, leaving the lights on and the door open. his parents would be home during the evening, somewhere around dinner time, so the apartment had a dimness that reflected the raging outdoors. he knew his home well enough to navigate it through the dark, but he still needed to feel around the wall to find the umbrella handle near the door. once he felt it, he grabbed it and left his home, keeping his door unlocked.

he made such a big deal rushing down the stairs to greet you out in the rain, but when he actually made it outside to the pedestrian road, he didn't know what to do.

heeseung gripped the umbrella handle, keeping it straight over his head. the pitter-patter of the rain made the umbrella tremble, and he realized the rain was harsher than it seemed from his room. he reached a tentative hand out of the shade, felt the droplets land on his palm, and he retreated his hand to wipe the water off his jacket.

sometimes he wondered why you do this. you didn't do it every rainy day, but he couldn't understand it whenever you did stand under the rain to drench yourself.

it was about nature, you said once. you wanted to feel the woodlands on your skin. it was about the thrill of it, you said the next time. you wanted to feel suffocated by the thunderstorm wind. it was about experiencing it for the sake of having a memory, you said again. you wanted to remember you can look up at the sky on a rainy day. but you could have done any of those without being ominous and reckless, heeseung always thought. those were less plausible reasons and more quirky excuses. he would have brushed it off if you had just told him you enjoyed the rain. he would disagree, but he would understand.

he watched your unreadable face looking skyward, letting the rain hit your skin, and exhaled. it seemed like you were enjoying it. it was unfortunate that he was to put a stop to it.

"watching you makes me feel cold," heeseung said as he tipped the umbrella toward you. "please go indoors."

you opened your eyes and found him peering down at you with tender distraught. he looked more annoyed, honestly, with the same narrowed glint in his eyes and pursed lips that wanted to say more than he did. you pulled a face and gathered yourself. your neck slightly ached from looking up for too long; you realized talking to heeseung from your bare-foot height was basically talking to the sky anyway, unless you avoided eye contact with him.

"why were you watching me?" you asked.

he didn't let his breath hitch. "tell me you wouldn't if you saw someone outside your window getting soaked under the rain."

"i would let them be, actually," you retorted. "i don't go around policing other people."

"neither do i," he said.

you rolled your eyes like you never fail to whenever he came out into the rain to fetch you indoors. he raised his brows with amusement, and you instantly knew he had been through this exact scenario too many times even to consider your tactics of getting him to leave you in the cold streets. you didn't understand why he kept at this voluntary babysitting job. the first time he did it, it was your mother's request because you two were classmates, thus, in her eyes, friends. but that one request did not warrant all the times he went out of his way to bring you home.

whenever you asked him about it, he told you because you two were friends, and he cared about your well-being, as if the rain had ever made you ill.

part of you wondered if he secretly wanted to know what it felt like to stand under the rain, that perhaps his gross feelings for the water were all but a hoax. but there was something else entirely about him that plagued you. the way he would unknowingly tip his umbrella toward you, and how he has a habit of taking your fingers in his to urge you to head inside, and when his voice would become the softest in his coaxes, and how the touch of his hands feels when he wipes the water off your face. to you, heeseung existed like glass—tender and delicate, breakable and cautious. and you have only seen him like that with you, which was the most haunting part.

the part where he was beautiful, and in all his extraordinary softness directed toward your everything, it seemed that he thought you were beautiful too.

heeseung noticed the sudden change of expression on your face, but he mistook it as disappointment rather than a certain kind of fear of being cared for. you turned away, looked ahead at the unstoppable rain, and sighed with your shoulders.

"just give me another minute," you said. "i like it out here."

"i don't," he commented.

you sneered in defeat. not bothering to give him a hurtful punch to the guts or a pinch on the bridge of his nose, you stepped outside his umbrella. "then leave."

he probably should, but he couldn't. as much as he willed his feet to bring him out of the rain, he couldn't move an inch away from you. his hands were getting cold, but his heart grew soother by the second with your presence in his vision, and heeseung knew his immobility went beyond the need to be altruistic and kind. this was all just about you and his crippling desire to experience every occasion life could offer with you in it.

from experiencing a thunderstorm in a classroom to running after a bus that left because you woke up late, to watching the night firework show at the amusement park and him having to carry you on his back to the metro station because your legs were too sore to keep walking. he remembered how his feet ached that night, but there was nothing greater than feeling the rumbles of your laugh on his back.

this was not the first time he stood under the rain with you, but this was the first time he stood under the rain with you under these particular circumstances—with a black umbrella, with unmatched socks and shoes he didn't correctly wear, with the unfinished scientific explanation brewing in his brain, and always, with you near him. these were new memories to be made, new memories with you in them that perhaps would soon become the most played film in his mind theater.

heeseung wanted to be here with you. he would only move once he could be with you indoors as well.

"why do you like the rain anyway?" he asked.

you opened your eyes only to close them immediately. the next time you did it, you did so tentatively to keep the water out. you hummed in thought, trying to figure out something profound you could say that could discourage him from questioning you further. but nothing was on your mind but the watery sensation rolling down your face.

"it's the closest thing i can get to being kissed," you said.

"oh," he heaved a breath, "i see."

his responses felt dejecting. you mumbled a joke to yourself where you were stabbed at the end of it, and then you laughed for him to hear. stepping back under his umbrella, you ran a hand over your face so you could fail at drying it properly. heeseung's lips arched downwards into a humored smile as he reached a hand out to help you. you barely shrugged his touch off, so he continued to wipe at your face clumsily, caressing your wet skin with his fingertips and peeling invisible lashes from your eyes.

"sorry, that was a stupid reason," you muttered. "you probably won't understand it."

"why?" he furrowed his brows.

you tilted your head in embarrassment. "you've kissed someone before," you said. "shouldn't be hard for someone like you to get real ones."

"that's–" he let out a hearty laugh. he thought the reason why he wouldn't understand you was because of the unfathomable explanation you love to give, but apparently, it was because he would never understand the struggle of not being attractive. "that is false."

"sure." you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

the disbelief was practically pouring out of your mouth, so much that heeseung almost felt framed, wronged, falsely accused. his heart was sore with dismay, and he was exceptionally annoyed because you were right. he grew up being attractive. people always acted accordingly to that fact. there was a room of people waiting just for a chance to feel his lips, but the room that supposedly should fuel his ego often made him feel more rejected than ever because no matter how well he could distinguish your shadow from other people, he could never find you in that room.

"you are insane. i absolutely do need to wait for a rainy day. watch me."

you widened your eyes in surprise when he pulled the umbrella away from your head. the heavy rain immediately poured down on your bodies, causing him to flinch. your giggles rang in his ears with the sound of rain hitting the ground—somehow, they sounded clearer without an umbrella as a shield. he managed to open his eyes after a few seconds, and you were already reaching up to his face to clean his cheeks.

he relished in your touch without showing it. the continuous laughter was hidden behind the ridiculousness of being drowned under the rain voluntarily, but really he was cherishing the way your hands felt on his face, a hunger satiated temporarily and unspoken words of affection sandwiched between your gentleness and his desire to remember it.

"this doesn't feel like being kissed!" he yelled over the rain.

you pursed your lips to suppress a laugh at his genuine disappointment. you took the initiative to bring the umbrella back up over your heads, and heeseung let out a relieved huff of breath when his head was shielded once again. you watched him shake his head to rid the water from his hair, finding endearment in your heart and hoping the beautiful boy couldn't sense it.

you smiled when his attention was on you again, but you watched him with fondness that you didn't know reflected in your eyes. a fondness that came from him being the first boy to share this moment with you. heeseung could tell that what swam behind your eyes was more than what you intended to show—that parts of you were beginning to seep into that room full of people who loved him. or he was dubious and delusional, but he needed to think that you liked him as much as he liked you, so he kept with that assumption. to him, the glint behind your eyes was love.

"i can tell why you like doing this so much," he commented. "but it is definitely not for me."

you snickered with acknowledgment. "i told you to leave."

"that you did," he said in return. "and i never do. i never leave you."

the atmosphere changed with the drop of his voice. he was right; he never left you, not once. his words pierced you like a knife, or just the tip of his nails, leaving crawl marks on our skin. if you looked into his eyes, you thought he might start leaning closer to your face and give you what you have always dreamt of—his lips and how destructively tender he could be with you. and you knew why there seemed to be a shift in the air and the tension between you both. you knew well.

it was because heeseung didn't like the rain, but still, he headed into it because you were there, and he loved you.

[tokiro07]

The dichotomy of a man out to save lives vs. someone out to take them

The Rip of Loop 100 is covered in shadow, having turned his back on everything he's ever believed in, all the while trailing blood as he trudges mindlessly toward the next victim foolish enough to get in his way, barely even noticing the protests of his younger self who never wanted any of this

Meanwhile, Rip 101 is bathed in light, marching forward with confidence and determination towards his goals, giving a reassuring pat on the head to the younger self that aspires to one day become him as he brandishes the same scalpel used by his past self to kill, but now for its intended purpose, to heal

Even his simple position on the screen gives a completely different image; he clearly has approximately the same build between the two images, but in 100 he's at almost a complete side-view, making him appear thinner and frailer, while in 101 he's at a slight angle, making him appear broader and sturdier

The shadows at his feet, despite being cast from the same man, also convey a shocking amount of detail. In 100, the shadow is so much thicker, as if Rip isn't blocking the light, but literally casting the shadow, his inner darkness producing more in the material world. 101, on the other hand, casts a thin shadow, and doesn't prevent his child self from receiving any light of his own; he has darkness as anyone would, but he's firmly in a world of light right now, and he's going to fight to protect it

Finally, the inclusion of child Rip here gives greater meaning to Rip being reduced to a child by the effects of Life is Strange; originally, it was only a means to explain his survival and bring Feng back to his youth, but there wasn't really any reason for Rip to be turned into a kid, was there? He wasn't in that form very long, and the impairment to his fighting abilities was only an issue for about one chapter. Sure, it helped endear him to the main group when he was brought back to normal by Anno Un, but any impairment or status condition being fixed could have done the trick. Why was he turned into a child?

Because the path he's on was decided when he was a child. He became a doctor because he wanted to save Leila, a decision he came to when he was only about five. He's never strayed from that path no matter what, even after losing her. His inability to move on and be happy with Latla as Leila asked has him stuck in the past, but as I said, this was never the future that Rip envisioned. He was supposed to be a hero, a savior, a knight in shining armor, but ironically, the armor he wears is simply bloodied and dull, while the man he became in a world with Leila still in it is brighter without any armor to speak of

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Unwanted Visitor

Part 1 of a new series (actually part 1 of a really old series I found in my wips and dug up again. It's from when I was like 15). Anyways, enjoy!

When I was about 6 years old, my family moved into an old house in the countryside. It was lovely, with 3 storeys and a big garden, but there was one tradeoff.

It was haunted by a spirit.

I'd nicknamed it 'Visitor', as in 'The Unwanted Visitor That Just Wouldn't Go Away'. Visitor terrorised my family constantly, shifting things and mimicking loud screams in the dead of night, whispering our names in dark hallways. It got so bad that we could no longer invite anyone over.

Of course, my parents being my parents, they did absolutely nothing about it. So I grew up with Visitor haunting my house. I'd get woken up at night to see the shadows in the corner of my bedroom, and his whispers followed me wherever I went. Interestingly, the familiarity with him meant I wasn't afraid of him. Instead, I considered him to be a nuisance.

"Put the damn bowl down, Visitor!" I thwacked my spatula against the side of the table. "If you aren't gonna help, get your unwanted ass outta here!"

I felt a breeze drift behind me and knew Visitor had done just that. I turned around, ready to go back to making breakfast, only to come face-to-face with a humanoid creature.

He was a good foot shorter than me, his inky skin a stark contrast to his pale hair, and his eyes glowed red. He was wearing a white t-shirt with the words 'I LOVE BRAINS' written on the front. With his arms crossed, he leaned against the doorway, posture languid.

"Really? Dad's T-shirt? Go put that thing back, Vis," I told him brusquely.

Visitor shrugged. "Why should I? It's comfy."

"Because it's not yours? If you don't put it back, you aren't getting any of the food," I told him.

"Whatever, you're just a control freak." Visitor rolled his eyes, walking over to the stove and taking a piece of bacon. 

I swatted at him with my spatula, missing by an inch. "What did I say? If you aren't helping, don't come in. Now, out."

"But I want some-"

"OUT." I slammed my hand on the tabletop for emphasis. Visitor huffed and disappeared into the hallway.

I finished frying the eggs and sat down at the table. As I ate, Visitor wandered in and sat opposite me, a mug in his hands. I eyed it. It had a cat-tail handle, cat paw prints round the side and a chipped rim.

"That's my coffee mug," I pointed out.

"I know," Visitor smirked, and sipped it.

I glared at him. The trouble with having an evil spirit instead of a sibling was that you couldn't tattle on an evil spirit to your parents. As such, I'd learnt to take matters into my own hands.

I lunged over the table, grabbing my cup with one hand. With the other, I caught a fistful of Visitor's hair.

"Ow!" Visitor yelped. "You bitch! What was that for?"

"This is what you get when you steal," I retorted. "Now give me my cup."

"Never!" Visitor stuck out his tongue.

"You're 600 years old, not 6."

"Shut up." Despite having his head contorted at an awkward angle, Visitor seemed undisturbed.

I yanked his hair again. "Give it."

"Nope." Did the little bugger look smug? Ugh, it made my blood boil.

"GIVE ME THE FUCKING COFFEE MUG OR SO HELP ME, I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET IT!" My voice was loud enough to wake my parents and likely the surrounding wildlife, and it went right into Visitor's ear.

"Fine, fine! You're such a killjoy!" Visitor shoved the cup at me and I released him, sliding back into my chair.

"Asshole," Visitor muttered loudly.

"I heard that," I snapped, channelling my inner schoolmarm. Bizarrely enough, it always worked on him. Something deep within the spirit psyche responded to it, as though they had a genetic phobia of pissed off teachers.

"It's true," he said testily. We had subsided into our usual routine of banter, and I figured it was safe to slide him the plate of eggs. You see, the thing about living with Visitor was that it was a constant tug of war to assert my power. My parents cowered from him because they didn't dare to threaten to smack the ancient spirit. I, on the other hand, had no such reservations, and it earned me his respect. To him (and honestly to everyone else), I was the head of the house, not my parents.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're the asshole who broke the window, remember?"

"It was an accident!" He pouted, but began shovelling food into his mouth.

"Oh, sure, an accident. I believe that. Which is why it's been 'accidentally' broken three times this year." Thankfully, my parents hadn't pinned the blame on me, or else I would have had a great deal of grounding to deal with.

"Whatever." Visitor scowled. He was never good at coming up with witty comebacks when he was hungry.

Taglist under cut:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[mudskip-drabbles]

@dragcns-den wanted more Gay Shit

"You are an asshole!" Yelled as the front door was literally kicked open, that poor lock not having a single hope when matched against Giovanni Potage!

Still, despite his strong entrance, it was clear by Gio's tone that he was anything but angry, the shouting being solely for dramatic affect, which was always important. "How dare you start a war of affections with me while I was enacting my most evil of plans!" (IE: Stealing a bear plushie for Molly out of a claw machine that would spurn him no longer!) "There is no room for love in the midst of such vile atrocities!" That didn't stop him from returning the warm feeling of love across their bond though, it seemingly having become one of Rick's favorite pastimes as of late, to bombard his friends whenever he got the urge to let them know just how much he cared for them. Gio still remembers the first time he'd felt it, the sudden feeling of pure, unrestrained affection literally knocking him to his knees as it took his breath from his lungs. It hadn't taken long to put two and two together after that, Rick quickly turning from loving to fearful so suddenly that it too could be felt across their bond, there being no way it could all be chalked up to coincidence.

Rick was mostly unphased, having to push down the initial fear of the sudden entrance despite knowing it was only Giovanni. He met the dramatic shouting with an evil laugh in turn, dark wisps of miasma emitting from his upturned palms most menacingly.

"Fool! You believed yourself free from my grasp simply because you were busy!? The downfall is of your own making!" It didn't matter where any of his friends were or what they were doing, he was going to send them love whenever he pleased! He needed them to know at any given moment when his mind grew cruel, it making him twitchy and unnerved whenever he'd tried to suppress the urge at first.

"You will never know peace so long as we are bound heart and soul! Such is the consequences of-" He cut himself off at the sight of the stuffed bear in Gio's hand, his eyes now shining as a hand came up to his mouth as if to hide a gasp. "Oooooo! What is that adorable little creature? Will it require sustenance? What does such a mighty being endeavor to consume?" Rapid fire questions didn't give Gio a chance to answer until Rick was nose to nose with the stuffed animal that had been held up for him to see more clearly.

"Oh this?" He sounded way too smug about a plushie. "It's a stuffed animal! One that Bear Trap and I tried for hours to win. But I emerged victorious in the end!!" A pause, the theatrics being toned down within the span of a blink. "Oh uh, I'm not allowed at the arcade in the mall anymore. Like that's gonna stop me. Stupid mall cop thinks he can control me."

Setting the bear onto the dining table so Molly would see it upon coming home from school, Rick stayed near nose to nose with the fluffy thing with that shine never dulling for even a moment.

"Fascinating! What is the purpose of these 'stuffed animals'? Is it customary to gift the deceased to a loved one?" A genuine question, one that pulled a laugh from Gio as he settled the little bear to sit up against a couple school books Molly had left there. It wasn't out of malice though, something Gio made sure to tell Rick every now and then so he didn't get the wrong idea. He thought such questions were cute, that puppy dog look of excitement Rick got enough to inadvertently shoot affection across their bond, Gio always felt it so strongly upon seeing it.

"It's just fabric, dude. Made into a little friend! Kinda like...THIS!" Pulled dramatically from his inner coat pocket was another plushie, this one being a stuffed chameleon that was purple and red in color. "I actually paid for this one, saw it while they were escorting me out of the mall. Had to sneak back in to buy it, but I had to! It was too perfect!!"

Those puppy dog eyes quickly switched their excitement to this new reveal, Rick growing so giddy he began to rapidly clap his hands as he bounced in place.

"I LOVE IT!!" Loud, but Gio hardly minded. "Who is this fabric friend for?" A question Giovanni knew to be genuine by the curiosity that skipped across their bond, it bringing a fond smile to his face.

"It's for you, ya goof!" A dramatic gasp at the new new reveal, Rick lighting up like a firework as he nearly plowed into Gio's chest for a tight hug. One that had Gio lifted a good couple inches off the ground, something that had a blush warming up his face with a feeling he didn't quite know how to place.

"I LOVE IT!!!" Somehow even louder than before, Gio was set down in favor of hugging the plushie to his chest, Rick being filled with joy one might expect of a child or a man who hadn't received a gift like this in years.

"Where is your fabric friend?" Asked with that same eager grin as he smooshed his cheek against the plushie, it quickly turned into a loud gasp as Gio shrugged his shoulders.

"UNACCEPTABLE!!" Shouted before Gio could get even a breath into his lungs, Rick hugged the toy to his chest while he pulled a smiling Giovanni towards the door by the hand.

"Uh, I'm kinda banned from the mall, remember?" Not that he would abide by such a thing, but he was curious as to where Rick would go with this.

"Unimportant!! We must procure you a fabric friend as well!!" He didn't want Giovanni to be left out.

Gio could only give a fond laugh as he shook his head, picking up his pace so he was the one pulling rick along.

"Well then what are we waiting for? Pick up the pace Shades, we gotta get home before Bear Trap so we can see her face when we give her that bear!! I bet she's gonna flip and I don't wanna miss it!!"

[fandomwe1rd0]

"Real sweet but I wish you were sober."

"Being 19 but you're acting 25 now, being pretty but you talk pretty foul-mouthed, ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed, take me where the music aren't too loud, trade drinks but you don't even know her, save me when the party is over (...)

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober"

~ Wish You Were Sober, by Conan Grey

Wrote Angst about Rick's alcoholism instead of sleeping so please enjoy! Story under the cut!

Morty blinked as he felt a weight shift of his bed, he rubbed the sleepy from his eyes and when his senses adjusted. He flinched to the strong, bitter smell of alcohol that Morty should've been use to by now. He blinked his eyes open and when they adjusted to the dark, he saw Rick.

"Ugh...Rick..what are you doing man?"

"Morty!"

Rick hugged him and Morty tensed up. Rick wasn't usually the one giving physical affection...Morty felt himself relax. It was nice. Morty smiled and his arms raised-

"M-M-Missed you buddyyyyy."

Oh. His arms dropped to his sides.

He was drunk. That's why he was nice.

Not because he actually cares about Morty, but because he was drunk.

He probably though Morty was someone else, or maybe drunk people are just like this. Morty always stays away from his mom when she was drunk, so he only knew how drunk people acted from Rick.

Rick just didn't have his thoughts straight, he never shows Morty a little bit of kindness when he's sober...well as sober as Rick van be. Rick spends basically all his time with Morty, and yet couldn't be bothered to show a bit of kindness to his grandson. The only kindness he got was right now. When he was drunk. Morty felt all of the positive emotions he had evaporate like water in a boiling hot pot on a stove.

"Mhm..."

Rick nuzzled into Morty shoulder "Y-you...you're my little buddyyyyy..."

Why couldn't Rick say this when he was sober?Morty gulped feeling the lump in his throat.

"You're so fucking weak."

Morty inner voice sneered

"Why would he say this? He doesn't even care about you anyway."

Morty couldn't stop himself. He clutched onto Rick's labcoat with a white knuckled grip. His body shaking as he desperately attempted to stop himself from sobbing. "You're so pathetic. Rick's little lapdog. Clinging onto him like a fucking baby."

Morty's sniffed.

No.

C'mon don't cry.

Not now. Not in front of Rick. He already thinks you're pathetic.

Don't make it worse.

"Keep it together you sensitive piece of shit. Don't fucking cr-"

His inner voice was interrupted when Rick spoke "You...you kn- y'know you're my best...y-you're my best friend."

That did it.

Tears fell from Mortys eyes as if a dam had broke. He sobbed into Rick's shoulder, occasionally sniffling. Rick stopped hugging and looked at him, his voice weirdly soft as he spoke

"What'z....wha...what's the matter Morty?"

Morty sniffled, why did he have to cry in front of Rick? WHY?! It could be anyone who saw how pathetic he was! Why did it have to be Rick?! Word-vomit fell from Morty's mouth before he could stop it.

"W-why aren't you like this when you're sober?!"

Rick flinched as Morty hugged his knees and cried. It was a good question, why didn't Rick show any kindness to his fucking grandson when he was sober? His inner voice didn't see his point of view though. He could basically hear it slow clap "Way to go, you spilled your guts out to Rick, now he knows how pathetic you are. If he somehow didn't care for you before, he definitely doesn't now."Desprate sobs rattled from Morty’s chest. The voice was right. It was his fault that Rick fault that Rick didn't care about him. He ruined any chance for Rick to ever care about him. He'll never see Morty as anything more than a disposable sidekick. Morty's fingernails dug in his legs as the words kept spilling out faster than he could stop it. Even though he desperately wants to.

"A-are you only like this b-because you're drunk? Do you...do you just think about someone else...?"

Rick's unibrow raised "Morty...""Can...can you please keep acting like you care...I...I know you don't...b-but maybe I can pretend like you're sober..like you actually mean it..."Morty's inner voice laughed bitterly "You're so lucky he won't remember this since he's drunk. He won't remember how pathetic you are."Rick eventually passed out. His weight heavy on Morty's body. Morty didn't even push him off. He didn't have the strength.All he did was cry while Rick was passed out on top of him.

This is how it felt when Rick was sober.

Constant insults that chipped away at his self esteem until Morty couldn't look at himself in the mirror without pointing out every part ugly part of him. His thin lips. His chubby cheeks. His frail figure.

He couldn't talk without wishing he had a different voice. His voice was so squeaky. So full of cracks.

He couldn't act without hating everything he did. He was so awkward. So easy to manipulate. Rick really knew how to make someone feel worthless. Morty just laid there and he cried, the tears falling down quicker and quicker.

[ananke-xiii]

Cas needs a win (or some PTOs really)

In "The Future" there's a really interesting line that I've overlooked in the past but that's actually pretty telling. Cas tells Dean the following:

"And I just wanted... I needed to come back here with a win for you. For myself".

The "for myself" is quite an important addition because I think that Cas has a tendency to hide his own personal desires, needs and ambitions behind Dean and the importance he places on his relationship with him ( famous examples such as "I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you", "I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me.", "I cared about the whole world because of you" come to mind).

Now of course in and of itself this is definitely not a negative thing, quite the opposite since Dean has indeed been a key factor in Cas' internal and external upheaval. What I'm trying to say is that this is the most obvious excuse for doing/wanting certain things and it allows Cas to get sort of a free pass instead of explicitly owning his wants and needs. By the way, Cas is not shifting the weight of what he thinks are his responsibilities intentionally on Dean, but I think he sort of lies to himself and uses the "I'm doing this for X reason but certainly not for myself" card as a coping mechanism against his complicated relationship with power and, more importantly, with powerlessness.

So when he says that he needs a win for Dean and then honestly adds that he needs the win for himself too, Cas is actually showing growth and vulnerability. Of course, this is something that Cas can only share with Dean and Dean only. When Kelvin praises him for his betrayal ("Committing to Joshua's plan, putting angelkind above the Winchesters. I mean, your reputation in Heaven is –") Cas is super quick to add that he's NOT doing it for his reputation but he's doing it for the Winchesters. Which is 100% true but what Cas is obviously omitting here is that he's doing it because he needs a win. And he needs it badly. But why?

I'm gonna come out here and say it: I don't see Cas as a strategist. Like not at all. And if he is, I think he's a very, very bad one. Here, I've said it. I think Cas is on the exact opposite end of what constitutes a good strategist because he's a reckless son of a bitch. He's exactly what strategists prepare for: he's the unpredictable, the wild card that can turn the fate of a battle in a matter of seconds and the good thing about that is exactly that you don't know what he'll do. He doesn't even know what he'll do. As a matter of fact I've alwasy found funny when in "The End" Cas calls 2014!Dean's plan "insouciant" or "reckless". Because these are the exact same adjectives I'd use to descrive Cas' plans or Cas in general for that matter.

Having said that, war is in Cas' DNA or whatever, in his grace perhaps. Therefore Cas is a wavelength of celestial intent that thrives on winning battles and fighting enemies. But there's also a streak of ambition and hubris in Cas in that he's the BAMF that goes against archangels, tries to find God by himself and doesn't shy away from The Darkness herself. One might say he has delusions of grandeur or perhaps he's a badass with a death wish.

I'd say all of the above. Because, to me, one of Cas' defining traits is that he keeps trying. He's always ready to raise the stakes and, regardless of what he says, he does have an inner confidence in himself, a secret voice that tells him that he can win. Perhaps, this is what makes him so charming to people, his aura of badass, tormented self-assurance.

In s12 Cas' confidence has taken a real blow, he's scraping the bottom of the barrel. Reasoning in terms of +1 win/-1 fail, the season opens with a fat, giant -1 for Cas since he wasn't able to keep Sam safe, aka he failed at the one thing Dean asked of him. He gets Dean back, though, so I'll count it as +1 for win. All in all, things seem to be okayish.

But they're not a-ah! Another -1 is on the horizon as we are reminded that Lucifer is still on the loose and Cas feels guilty over it and yada yada, the usual: I have to fix it because it's my responsibility. So far Cas's still not winning.

I gotta hand it to him, Cas showed real maturity when he admitted he could stall Lucifer for 3 minutes. Old Cas would've just gone in there guns a-blazing, no risk assessment and wing it. I'll give him a +1 for personal win. However, they don't catch Lucifer and everyone, and I mean everyone, disagrees with Dean when he calls their little fight a win("Well, we didn't catch Lucifer, but we did save the crowd, so I'm gonna call that a win). I agree with Dean but I'm the only one so I'm going to give a grand total of 0 because consensus wasn't reached.

Things escalate quickly from here on: -1 because Kelly escapes on Cas' watch, -1 because Dean and Sam get kidnapped and Cas can't find them, -1 because he can't even solve a vamp case, +1 because no Winchester dies but also - a fuckton of cosmic consequences as he kills Billie.

So to sum it up: Cas's still NOT winning. Like, at all.

We could hardly call "Lily Sunder has Some Regrets" a win. The episode ends on a hopeful note but Cas is totally pretending and performing for Dean's sake ("Let's drink, and hope we can find a better way" is such a glaring "he wouldn't fucking say that" for Cas that, to me, it's clear that he's just putting up a front for the brothers' benefit).

Things go from bad to worse in "Stuck in the Middle with You" which opens with a bleeding Cas who can't even walk properly and he's assisted by Mary while we hear this song in the background:

So come on baby walk with a winner

come on girl, walk with a winner

hey girl come on, swing along with me, there' so much to see

great big world for you and me

I love some good irony. All the more so since we know this time Cas is undoubtedly close to dying for realsies.

Cas dying: let's talk about it. I think it really stung for Cas that he was about to die at the hands of Ramiel, skewered like a fish by the lance of Michael (of all angels!), suffering horribly and possibly forced to watch his family get killed in front of his eyes while he can't do nothing but keep decaying and dying. Love confession aside for a moment, this was a low blow in all its possible meanings for poor Castiel. I think that even though he made it out that barn alive something inside of him was really hurt and broken by the modality of the events as they unfolded. He, an angel who had fought archangels and won, who just managed to confront Lucifer, was harpooned like a whale by a Prince of Hell and forced to die in a way that totally incapacitated his ability to protect his family (he couldn't even self-sacrifice, Cas' favorite dish, cause he was already SO done for). He hit rock bottom in terms of powerlessness.

So when in "Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell" along comes Kelvin I think what truly seduces Cas is not the promise to reunite with and be forgiven by his own family but the promise of power: "I don't. Look, I know you're working with the Winchesters. Sam and Dean -- their hearts are in the right place, but wouldn't it be better to have us waiting in the proverbial wings? All the power of Heaven behind you?". I think Cas really wants that power, he needs it because he needs a win.

Under this light, fetus!Jack lending Cas his power to kill another Prince of Hell in lieu of the one who almost got him killed is something way more interesting than the usual "he got brainwashed for the nth time". Yes, true, however, Cas saying " I've been so lost. I'm not lost anymore. And I know now that this child must be born with all of his power."is so much more revealing of his character if we consider that Cas finally got his win (he's not lost anymore) thanks to a borrowed power (he had Jack's power behind him, in the proverbial wings as Kelvin would say), borrowing power from other angels/souls being a thing that Cas does quite frequently on Supernatural, lol.

Cas gains his confidence back to the point that he's back to being reckless and insoucinat with it. While at the beginning of the season he was smart enough to be real and say he could only stall Lucifer for 3 minutes, now that he's got his big win he's so engrossed with it that he stupidly goes to Apocalypse World armed with a stupid angel blade thinking he can take Lucifer.

Cas needed a win, sure, but what he truly, truly needed were some fucking PTOs from constantly being on the battlefield. Because, at the end of the day, he sort of got his win but he also eventually got himself dead so what was the point?

I know that, on the surface, this view might seem to cast a bit of a dark shadow on Cas' personality but I find him so much more interesting when he's not portrayed as a puppy cute little doggie doing things just because he loves Dean. Of course he does, lol, but he's so much more than that and a lot of his character has clearly to do with power and how it corrupts and entices people or, well, beings in general, that I think it's worth exploring.

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, and @artemis-crimson

Sam lounged on the couch in "his" room of the Razorleaf, sipping a cup of coffee, staring out at space, and brooding. Turned out it hadn't been that easy to find the big anomaly Vlad spotted after all—his initial scans had only gotten it down to one hemisphere, and they'd had to spend a couple days doing orbital surveys. Vlad had that data now; hopefully it wouldn't be much longer for him to sift through it. Everyone wanted to see what this next big find would uncover, and the unspoken pressure was making Cait antsy.

Not, he thought, that anyone but him noticed—she was scrupulous about keeping her moods from affecting anyone else. He only knew because—because he couldn't help but notice. Because somehow she'd become the second most important person in his life. He set the empty cup aside, burying his face in his hands. He'd thought—god, he'd thought he'd read her right. That she was leaning towards him just as he was her. So what had gone wrong?

He groaned. He had, of course. Was almost like he could hear the echo of the old man's voice in his head. Goddamnit, Samuel James, can't you do anything right? Anger snarled through him, propelling him to his feet; he needed to hit something. He snatched up a pair of ashta-leather gloves and yanked them on as he stalked over to the speed bag. He thought better when he was doing something; plus, it let him get his frustrations out.

Sam started with a nice, easy pattern—one-two-three right, one-two-three left. Back and forth, fists circling in short arcs, hitting the bag in the same place every time. Don't matter how angry you are, chico. Bag don't care. Now you start over and you do it right. One-two-three— That had been Diego, who'd been one of the few that saw behind the "angry Coe brat" to the wounded boy who needed some rough mentoring.

One-two-three right one-two-three left. His fault. He knew he had a tendency to pull away from people when he had something he needed to think about; he could—should have at least said something to her. Hell, Cait probably thought it was her fault. One-two-three right one-two-three left. Of course she thought it was her fault. She was exquisitely sensitive to people's feelings. "You had to go on about Lillian, didn't you?" One-two-three right one-two-three left. The worst part of it was, it seemed to be straining their friendship, too. She seemed—different. More distant. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but…

He changed up the rhythm. One-one two-two, a fast, rolling pattern. "Just tell her how you feel, already," he muttered, knowing damn well he wasn't going to. Great with a quip or a smartass remark, but when it came to baring his heart, he was like a child stumbling in the dark. One-one two-two. He was trying to show her. It was hard, though, when compliments, however true, flustered her, and when she didn't seem to know what the hell he meant when he flirted with her. One-one two-two. He closed his eyes, continuing the pattern by pure feel and muscle memory. He was trying so hard not to overwhelm her, but why the hell couldn't she see?

His mind pulled up a remembered image on the dark canvas of his inner vision: Cait on Akila, looking shocked at his support of her. Followed by other images: her discomfort with small talk, her bewilderment at a friendly gesture—her face, white and strained, when she triggered one of the landmines in her head. "Fuck!" he snarled, giving the bag one final hammer-blow before stepping back.

Of course she couldn't see. He damn well knew—she'd even told him—she didn't know what to do with a kind word. Had gone from the kind of life where you learned to eat heatleech to—hell, even he found Constellation a little claustrophobic sometimes. She had shit in her head that nobody—not even her—understood; his best guess was, she'd been part of an experiment she goddamn well hadn't consented to, and she got to pay the price for it. All that, and every ashta-fucking time the universe kicked her in the pins, she just picked herself up and kept going. Hell—he looked around his room, with a window out to the stars and a bed that fit, right next to a room for Cora—her own mind punished her for thinking about a home for herself, but she'd gone out of her way to build one for the two of them. "Dammit, darlin'," he muttered, "you make it so easy for everyone else no one notices how hard it is for you. And that just ain't right."

He grabbed a towel and a bathrobe and padded to the head. A quick shower to sluice the sweat off, and then he'd try to come up with a plan to work things out between them—because damned if he was going to give up on something—someone—special.