#that only really does things to ensure its survival

[epichnopterix]

would it be funnier to say that ida (glasses person) was born then the mothmanperson fucked off into the woods forever to pupate and become a mothmanperson or that she’s just Like That and its a big coincidence

[blacknight7890]

The Power of Control

An essay on Victim

Spoilers for Animator vs. Animation VI - Ep 2

So, our dear boy Victim, of animator vs animation ONE fame, has officially returned.

We have been waiting half a year for this guy to return, and here he is. Now we finally get to see what he can really do in the only thing that matters in this series. How much ass can this stick kick?

Well, as it turns out, not a whole lot.

Victim is not a strong physical fighter. But, what he lacks in strength, he makes up in something else.

Control

The express purpose of this white box, is to ensure that he has full, and unambiguous, control. You could say that everything he has built is for the express purpose of control. He is the CEO of a gigantic, very well funded corporation, and is the boss of probably thousands of employees.

he has dedicated money and men towards researching and replicating animation tools to give him direct power over the world around him. He gave his top Merc the ability to Stop Time. His tech is all to extend his reach of control.

And this idea of control is shown no better than his signature weapon.

A lasso. An unusual choice at first but it makes perfect sense. Its entire point is to restrain, constrain, and control another.

Victim is not a powerful stick, its why he was initially never able to escape the flash program he was created in. How he got out, and how he survived is still unknown, but I'm sure future episodes will show us.

What we do know however, is that after all these years he has took to heart one thing. True power, is control. The more you have, the more powerful you are.

Which is why Alan nearly deleted him. Alan had the cursor, so he had control, which made him powerful.

Of course, that power has an equally potent weakness. When you lose your control, you lose your power.

The lasso he has wrapped around so many, breaks, and he loses control. Without control, he is vulnerable. Without control, he is powerless.

Its no wonder he seemed so scared when he learned what The Second Coming was truly capable of.

And now, Second has also learned what he can do.

So, what does he do? He tries to reestablish his precious control.

But unlike before, this control is flawed. He never knew what our dear orange could do, he never planned for it. His cage was likely never designed to hold someone as powerful as he is.

Victim may have locked him away, but its clear his grip on the situation has slipped. A lasso can only restrain what it can hold after all. When the rope snaps, when control is lost, he has nothing.

It makes sense why he would be after someone with more control than anyone.

[pyreo]

I'm comparing the Dungeon Meshi manga to episodes I just watched and now I gotta capital-p Post about this one episode (spoilers past Episode 12)

So this part is an emotional side-step from the central throughline so far - Laios and Marcille got Falin back successfully and reunited, and they got that payoff from the very beginning where they thought it would be impossible. But Chilchuck is very much a part of these layers of development, so after that dragon finally dies, we stop for a second - Laios and Marcille are recovering, Falin has disappeared again - how does Chilchuck feel at that point?

It's the perfect stage to insert that because he didn't really share in that sense of victory in the same way as Laios and Marcille recovering someone extremely close to them. And that's on purpose because he keeps everyone at arms' length. As soon as that arc hits its end and Falin is recovered, there's at last space to ask - why is Chilchuck even here.

He's asking himself that through the chapter. Now that they've lost the person they intended to save, he regrets agreeing to come.

And starts shouldering responsibility for everything ending up this way. We saw that when he got stuck in the mimic room before - he refuses to let himself ask for help, or he'll try to take burdens alone to lessen relying on others. The original Touden Party was six people, and when Laios insisted on going back underground they were two, and he knew they would die, and figured maybe, maybe if they were one more, with his skillset, maybe they'd have a chance. He couldn't let them walk back down just to die.

And he's going back to that mindset - their lives are on me. He thinks he could have prevented this if he'd chosen differently. Essentially, the walk alongside the orc woman is him working through a guilt spiral.

He sees a second chance to correct that mistake of joining the party. He wants them out now, before they die. The orc asks him how they defeated a dragon and, in explaining it, he reminds himself of all the risky, ridiculous things they had to do, and he isn't satisfied with just getting lucky. Laios got his foot bitten off, on purpose! This proves to him that if they go any further they will not survive. And he hints at this dissatisfaction a couple chapters later, wishing his teammates prioritised things other than winning at all costs...

Like, obviously. The point of this chapter is Chilchuck pretending to be a self-serving coward. To the point where others react with disdain, even disgust, towards him because he wants to lie to Marcille and Laios to ensure they turn back. He's desperate to get out of a hopeless situation by any means necessary, and will destroy his standing in the group in a blink if it means nobody else dies. He has to go on a stupid mental health walk for his stupid mental health and talk through his little bout of panic and doubt.

'You called me a coward so don't be surprised when I act accordingly'

He needs someone very blunt to tell him 'dude you're not being a coward for wanting your friends to get out of hell alive. you're a coward for making excuses instead of honestly telling them your concern is genuine' and he BSODs about it. He needs to rant and externalise that frustration over their recklessness at a third party. He needs to scream that they are idiots because he's the only one for which the ends don't justify the means and he can't keep losing his mind over everyone's safety. Down to a point, the orc praises their ability to survive the explosion from the dragon's fuel sac, and it only justifies Chilchuck - Falin didn't even know she could cast the spell that stopped them all being killed, and they cannot continue getting lucky like this.

Anyway. The reason I stopped to think about it was this part-

Where he recovers Laios's monster-infused sword. The thing that made their situation in the dragon fight go from bad to worse, that he swore at Laios for in every language he knew. The most angry we'd seen him. And now he calmly picks it up and praises it for being the only one of them smart enough to make a run for it.

He's projecting, obviously. He's internalising the label of 'coward' and changing himself to fit it. And, look at him, he's so tired of this. It's evidence of his sheer exhaustion that his anger immediately disappears and he actually gives it a compliment. Him and Laios's sword, the group cowards, the only one who agrees with him.

Then, because he had a walk before getting into the argument, he's organised his feelings and drops all the walls and pretense and just says it.

There's a rule of writing where you contrast your high energy sequences with parts that are slow and mundane, to make the difference more apparent. I think that's why I like this bit so much. The fight against the dragon is long, and the emotional stakes are enormous. Right after that we have the bath scene with Falin and Marcille, and Laios ruffling Falin's hair, and this part that pauses everything to explore the stuff that Chilchuck finally needs to say. And it's wrapped in this neat little solemn journey to pick up their supplies and remember how it felt when all five of them had a meal around a real dinner table at last.

And because he doesn't resort to individualistic trickery, because he explains his point as a duty of care rather than pitting himself against the others, he gets backed up. Senshi agrees that they don't have the supplies to continue, and the orc lady mentions her brethren will return later and can give them support, all of which together breaks down Laios's singleminded devotion to his cause.

Personally I think the manga's better suited to comic timing, but in the anime you can get fleshed out little moments, like Laios's face journey as he realises the other three are making a good case for their survival.

This was my favourite part so far, and I like how both Chilchuck-centric episodes have separated him from the others. Because he won't reveal anything he's thinking otherwise. lmao

[gretavanlace]

Valtava

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, pain during sex (this is handled gently and lovingly) language, dirty talk, etc.

Everyone thank our dear @jake-kiszkas-smirk for the scene where his head is resting on her stomach. I’ll say no more to avoid spoiling it, but it’s delicious and it was her idea that she so kindly left in my hands. Thank you, you filthy genius, you. I love you madly. Also, I no longer remember who to credit for this pic of Josh, it’s been in my camera roll so long. But I couldn’t not use it for this…that’s dangerously close to sacrilege.

“This scene right here,” Josh speaks over Ray Liotta’s musings, one arm stretched across the back of his couch, the other bent to stroke his thumb along your jawline, absently “This is where Scorsese really stretches his wings. Here we are, watching the heinous discovery of murder after murder while Layla, a song about love and lust, lulls us. We feel both safe and shaky.”

His fingers now wind through your hair, relaxed and warm, with your head in his lap. “I think it serves as a reminder that even ugly can dip its toe into the waters of beautiful, if you squint hard enough.”

He pauses and talks over his own stream of thoughts, “Well, most ugly things, anyway. Someone saw these murders as a necessary evil. Something to ensure the world they had built for themselves, for their families, stayed clean. Someone went home and slept a little easier knowing there was one less heart beating out there ready to turn state's witness on them.”

You nod and hope for him to keep going. The way his mind works fascinates you, as does the unique lilt of his tone, and the excitement that sharpens his gaze when he is ruminating on something that really spins the wheel for the hamster in his brain.

Catering to your unspoken wish, he carries on, “And maybe even the victims were in on the method to the madness, y’know? They chose the life they chose, they understood how quickly loyalty and love can shape- shift into survival and self preservation. Layla helps the audience understand. It marries the beauty and the bloodshed for the people in the seats.” he shakes his head in wonder. “It’s fucking genius.”

“Thought your brother was the big Marty fan?” You ask, studying the perfect cupid's bow of his lips from below.

“Jake?” His eyes are on the screen, but his focus is on you. “Tarantino. I dig the use of his nickname, though. Marty. It makes it seem as if you have him over for dinner regularly.”

“Maybe I do.” You tease.

You earn a smile, but still not his gaze. “And what do you serve?”

Adopting a tone of nonchalance, you shrug, “Usually, we make love until dawn and then share cold spaghettiOs right out of the can.”

“Ah,” He nods seriously, “the opulence. It’s all very grand.”

A comfortable silence wraps itself around you both until you have a thought that pokes to be shared.

“Do you suppose Scorsese might have chosen Layla because of the double-edged sword it also happens to be as a piece? Since Clapton wrote it about his best friend's wife?” You feel a blush heat your cheeks, and immediately wish you hadn’t contributed. He knows so much about film and you know so little.

True to Joshua-form, however, he hushes your unease effortlessly. “Shit! I’d never even considered that. The beauty for Clapton was the ugly for Harrison. God, I’m so in love with the way your mind sees everything that’s invisible to mine.”

I’m so in love with…

He means the ideas in your head, the quiet corners of your thoughts, but it quickens your heart and nudges the butterflies in your stomach to life, nonetheless.

So, you pull yourself up, a thigh nestled on either side of his waist in the blink of a breath.

“Hi.” You long for the timid smile dancing shyly on your lips to morph into something sultry. Something sexy. Something that might flicker the darkened flame, that hides down deep in his belly, to life.”

“Hi.” He grins back, allowing you to wiggle around until you’re comfy in his lap. “If Goodfellas is boring you, I stand zero chance of keeping you entertained, baby love.”

Your fingers worry over the beads looped around his neck and then twist into the soft pink linen of his shirt, finally coming to rest at the button fastened nearest to his throat. Your eyes travel over him, hungry to soak him in. To tuck this image of Josh, so quietly content with you perched above him, away in your heart…a pretty picture to revisit when he inevitably becomes a memory.

What is he thinking? That question seems to occupy your mind more often than any other. He is an enigma. A mystery parading as wide open sunshine.

Intrusive thoughts, cruel and unrelenting, silently bully you. You’ve become quite adept at ignoring them over the years, opting for at least some semblance of normalcy in your quest for a happy, healthy life. Whatever that means.

But these thoughts in particular are cloaked in far too much truth…too many signs pointing to the worst being the obvious…to be easily disregarded.

You want to say these things to him. If only to bask in the assurance you might catch in his reply. But to risk the absence of said reassurance, is a feat too great.

Instead, you begin a tentative roll of your hips as you lean in close to meet his pillowy lips with your own. He tastes of mint, and the IPA he has been nursing, and Josh.

Like always, he indulges the kiss, but stills your hips, and you long to vanish into thin air, leaving nothing more than a coiling wisp of smoke in your wake. The rejection comes with a throbbing ache in your chest. Is your heart truly breaking? Now you’ll be forced to offer it to him in pieces.

And he isn’t the only one to indulge in old habits, because, also like always, you crawl into the safe embrace of humor. “You’re right, Joshua…you’re boring me. Back to the brilliant mind of Marty, my beloved.”

You slide off of him and stretch back out on the couch, focusing on the screen to hide your tear glossed eyes as he gets comfortable behind you.

“Scorsese, you bastard,” he shakes his fist in mock indignation, “how dare you steal the affections of my woman?”

A forced laugh comes out sounding a little too close to a sob. You play it off as best you can. Nothin’ to see here.

Alas, he catches it. And, of course, he won’t leave it alone, though you certainly ask him too.

“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” He turns you toward him, hovering over you as you lie on your back and long to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“I just— I mean,” death seems of great comfort. “Is it me? Do you not… are you not… am I not pretty enough? Or sexy enough? Or… I don’t know,”

A frown of deep concern furrows his brow as his palms move to cup your face, “What? Are you not…Jesus, baby, of course you are. Fuck, if anything you’re too much. Too pretty, too sweet, too smart, too sexy.”

Your words come quiet and small, quivering with painful vulnerability “Then why?” You close your eyes, and thankfully, he allows you to hide this way.

Exactly what you knew would happen, happens. He lies without lying. “Why, what?” He sounds of feigned confusion. He knows what you mean.

Throat now constricted and pulsing with a wringing pain, you close your eyes tighter, unwilling to bear witness to whatever lie will follow his last. “Why don’t you want me?”

A tear breaches the dam you had hoped was impenetrable. You loathe and curse it.

“Hey, shhh…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He brushes the tear away and then kisses over the path it took.

“Don’t cry?” You snap. A twinge of regret flares to life within you. You’ve never spoken to him unkindly, and could it be that there’s no going back? Perhaps this is it; the end of the road you’ve been heading inevitably for.

To your great surprise, he laughs. You crack an eyelid open to find it sincere. “So, she’s capable of something other than sugar, spice, and everything nice, after all.”

His hand smooths down your chest - can he feel the violent rattle of your heart as it thrums and beats out of control?

When at last he speaks, there is an edge to his tone you’ve never heard before. It warms you clear through to your curling toes “You think I don’t want you?”

You shrug, all pink cheeks and complete ineloquence.

“Well,” he soothes, drawing gentle patterns upon your temple and forehead, “you should know, that is far from the case.”

But, rather than take the moment further, as he so easily could, as you so desperately want him to, he sinks into an innocent position - resting his cheek on your stomach as you struggle to keep it from rising and falling too rapidly, his eyes, once more, on the screen.

The film drones on; mafia murders and cocaine swirling down flushed toilets. Betrayal and 20/20 hindsight…

…and on you watch, on the surface - in reality, you can think of nothing else other than the weight of his head on your stomach.

There is a dull ache there, inside you, gripping at every nerve ending all at once. He knows what you want, and he very obviously doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t want you.

He speaks first, and there’s too much truth in it. He knows you too well. “I need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” You stupidly offer a tiny shrug, but for what? He isn’t even looking at you.

“Your walls, I can feel you stacking bricks. Stop, or I’ll take a wrecking ball to them.” he pets over your forearm comfortingly. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, Miley,” you toss the joke out like a life preserver for yourself. “Just don’t start licking sledgehammers and we’ll be alright.”

He gives you the softest laugh. It more closely resembles a sigh, “Is it only sledgehammers that you are opposed to me licking?”

Oh.

When he coolly pushes your shirt up and begins dragging his lips, licked slick and warm, around your belly button, you think you might burst into tiny, burning, longing, pieces. God, how you want him.

“You like that, baby love?” He speaks the words melodically into the room like a lullaby, hushed as a priest absolving you of your sins in a darkened confessional.

A whiny hum is all you seem capable of, but it doesn’t look like it matters much to him.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing now, and you think it might kill you. Your hips begin a barely perceptible rock in response. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Do you want that?”

“Josh, please,” his name is less than a whisper. It’s a plea gasped into the dark, dancing with the flickering glow of the tv as it blinks and changes like lightning.

The warmth of his hand between them causes your thighs to twitch and tremble, but he hovers just above making actual contact. “God, look at you. How could you ever doubt how much I want you? So pretty. Can I touch you here, baby? My pretty, pretty girl.”

With a soft moan, you lift your hips, pressing into his palm. He doesn’t push for words, your body has given him all the consent he needs, and the want in your eyes reiterates.

His mouth is wandering your soft, flushed, stomach as he slides your pants away, gentle and sure, the tip of his tongue bridging the distance between his kisses.

Your hands weave down into his wild curls, comforted by the way they wrap themselves into your touch, spiraling around your fingers as you tug at them and tenderly scratch over his scalp. A particularly sweet drag brings a shiver to life on his shoulders. He groans in appreciation and runs away with another piece of your heart.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmur, surprised and grateful, when at last, he sinks a single finger into your warmth.

Should you at least have the decency to feel shy about the sound it makes? About the way you must be soaking his skin? Perhaps. But you don’t, and judging by the curse he secrets into the still of the night, there isn’t any reason to.

“Does that feel good?” He isn’t taunting you, it’s a genuine question, but there is a hint of a teasing tone there as well, peeking out from around the edges of his words and you think it might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“So good.” You’re whining and writhing beneath him, tiny pouty huffs of breath tumbling off your lips over and over…but you don’t care about that either.

His finger slips out and you mourn it pitifully, until it swirls around your swollen clit, tearing a shaking cry out of your chest. And then, there it is again, filling you as his thumb begins a slick trail of tight circles just right.

“You want more?” Oh god…the way he sounds, the way you feel. He’s setting you further and further on fire with his gentle, decadent, prodding. With his breathy, gingerly obscene questions. Flames - scorching and crackling - lick up inside you. Incinerating as they consume.

“More?” He asks again, rasping the word, wantonly urging you on.

“Yes!” You nod frantically, spreading your legs further. You want him, need him, so badly…coveting the very breath in his lungs for its privilege of being inside him in a way you’ll never know. You long to trickle down into his pores and vanish.

A second finger - they feel longer than they have ever looked - joins the first and then begins a perfect, guiding, curl.

Tucking into that perfect place inside you, he fucks the pads of his fingers against it ever so carefully. Gently spinning your head in every direction.

He rests against your belly as the muscles inside churn and flex beneath his ear, watching intently as his hand fucks away at you. He wonders what it might be like to stretch you to almost breaking. How it would feel to push another finger inside, and then another, and another. When would you tell him to stop? Three? Four? Could you take that burning stretch? Would you relish it and ask for more? Fuck, he hopes so.

But you feel so tight around him…just two fingers full and you’re squeezing like you’ll never let go. He worries, and the pounding pulse of neglect that aches rhythmically in his cock, reminds him that he worries rightly so.

He has always believed you to be the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of landing upon, but he’s never seen you like this - spread open, soaked and puffy with want. With need…for him. It doesn’t seem possible.

The way you move…fluidly, like ripples chasing over the surface of a placid lake, urging him along with your body. Your gorgeous cunt sucking his fingers in. A goddess, a beckoning siren, an angel…he can’t look away.

Can’t until he hears it, until he feels it, how close you are. Wild, frothing, horses couldn’t keep him from the gift of watching your face as you fall apart. An army of men wouldn’t stand a chance. He wants this moment with you, and he will have it. He wants to make you cum, and he wants to watch your eyes go blurry with it, and so watch he will.

“C’mon, baby…” he goes breathless when his face tilts up to meet yours. You are flushed and panting, lips parted. The soft pink of your tongue just barely visible, blushing like saltwater taffy in your mouth and he wants to lick against it, wants to taste you.

The smallest blips of a sound he can’t describe chase each other out of that beautiful mouth he wants to kiss so badly. Tiny uh’s that shift into gasps of desperation. You’re right there, and he wants it more than you do.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he eases his chin into the softness just below your navel, creating a delicious pressure, and crooks his finger so perfectly, pressing and stroking until it feels like you’re floating and the only thing holding you in place is him.

It is celestial. He is every constellation and you are the astronomer, feet held to the ground by gravity, eye pressed against a telescopic lens hopefully, frantic for a glimpse of his wonder.

There is only Josh.

“Almost there, pretty girl,” he nods, gaze glossed with lust and something that looks like love. “You gonna give it to me?”

You are. You’re going to give it to him. You couldn’t stop it now if you tried. Fluttering walls trap him inside you as his stare fixes, unmoving and heated, with yours.

“That’s it, baby love, that’s it.” He urges you on, leads you deeper and deeper, those long, warm, perfect, fingers working you like he’s been there a thousand times before. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m right here, just breathe for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to realize your lungs are burning for a breath you’ve been unknowingly denying them - and with that hissing, hungry, gasp for air, you explode under him.

He watches, mezmorized, as your eyes roll back, teeth clenched like some ethereal, feral creature. It bursts out of you, clear and shimmering, like liquid diamonds, but you don’t know it yet, he can tell…you’re too far gone, and he fucking loves it. He fucking loves you.

He has said it aloud. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I love you.

But that’s the thing that he doesn’t know yet because he’s also too far gone.

You’re quiet, gentle. Sweet, whining whimpers floating out of you as you vibrate and spill.

On your end, you hear the confession of how deeply his feelings run, but you don’t register…it will settle in later and you’ll weep for not saying it back. Though you don’t need to, he knows.

Once you’ve settled, he pushes up until you are eye to eye, lapping your release off his fingers. You’re sweet enough to lick off a whisk like cake batter, and he tells you so…but you can focus on nothing but the shining glint of you that he wears so well.

Shocked by the sheer amount, you blush hard and hot. Burning brighter still when it drips from his hand and lands on your lip. In an act you don’t seem aware of, you lick it away like a raindrop. The very sight of it, the somehow still innocent depravity, weakens him until he is forced to swallow a whine.

“Had I known what I was missing,” he grins lazily, “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

The confusion sends you crashing back to reality.

“But why stop yourself at all?” Your eyes are so wide and clear. It makes him want to gather you up and keep you safe.

Once more, it crosses his mind that you’re an angel. He wonders where your wings have gone.

“Because, I—“ he falters, shaking his head as if he might rattle his thoughts into place. Finally, he opts to show, not tell, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him.

And feel him, you do, but only for a moment. He’s so hard you’re cozy from the heat of it through the sweats he was lounging in when you arrived.

You’ve noticed. Of course you have. You’ve stolen a glance or two when he wasn’t looking. How could you not? You’d just always thought, and not to be crass, you’d always just assumed he was a shower, rather than a grower.

Now you aren’t so certain. He felt massive during the short amount of time he was rocking into you.

“You’re thinking very hard, baby love.” He smiles down at you. “Are those thoughts in my favor, or…?”

He trails off and awaits your answer with that Josh-like patience. Rather than speaking, you curl your hands around the waistband of his pants and then cast your eyes up, in silent question.

Nodding the go ahead, he continues watching you closely…studying your reaction as you tug him free.

“Oh, fuck,” the expletive sighs out of you as the tip of his cock - leaking, angry and swollen - slaps up, well above his belly button, with a solid thump.

He’s big. So big. Long and thick, beautifully shaped. Blushing pink at the head, and visibly pulsing under your awestruck scrutiny. You absently wonder how he isn’t light-headed for the amount of blood it must require to bring him to such full attention.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains softly, finally letting you in on the secret of why he’s been so skittish, “And I didn’t want to…”

His confession loses traction as he watches your mouth rather than meeting your gaze.

Your palms reach for him, cupping his angelic face with as much gentleness as the renewed desire racing through your veins will allow. “You didn’t want to what?”

While he searches for the words, you curl your thighs around him and pull him in, moaning out his name like a mantra when you feel him against you, skin to skin.

“God damn, baby…” he rocks his hips closer to yours and then remembers what he’s doing. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy load of his anxiety.

“I know.” His mouth meets yours, searching out a slow, needful kiss. “But I kept imagining hurting you, and you being too sweet to say so. I’m still imagining it.”

Your tongue licks into his mouth as you wrap your fist around him. “Look at you, Josh,” you smile shyly through a kiss that is anything but shy. “My fingers don’t even touch.”

“Grew up under some power lines.” He teases, relaxing as he pecks along your jaw.

“I want you inside me.” You sound despondent, and feel just as forlorn, the look in his eye warns you may have a fight on your hands.

“Pretty girl,” he tucks himself away and begins kissing a slow, serpentine trail down your body after he flutters your shirt, indicating he wants it off. “I could barely get two fingers in your sweet little pussy. Why don’t you just let me kiss it? Don’t you want to cum on my tongue, hmm? Won’t that feel nice?”

Such filth is a captivating development, and one you like very much…but, you stop him all the same. Grabbing him by the hair with enough force to tilt his head back, pulling his mouth away from your straining nipple, you issue a demand you intend to make sure he fulfills, “I said, inside, Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow and suppresses a grin of dirty glee. “Joshua?”

Ignoring him, you watch as he licks the pad of his thumb and then arch away from the cushion when he begins a steady, swirling journey over your clit with it. “Gonna make you cum first, love. Again and again. I’m gonna baby this gorgeous cunt until my name is the only word you want in your mouth…and then I want you to fill my mouth.”

“Jesus, Josh…” you’ve never wanted anything more, but you can hardly force the words out to convey just how fucking agreeable you are.

“You want that?” He flicks over you faster and faster, indulging in your pouty, needy cries, praying they never end. “You want to cum in my mouth? Feed me something sweet?”

~

“Easy, baby love,” he coos, whispering to you like you’re a tiny, broken bird, fallen from the nest and afraid. “You’ve got to relax a little more for me.”

“Yeah…” you nod, staring up at him as if he painted your entire world into existence. And maybe he did.

No longer able to count the number of orgasms he’s gifted you with, you feel like liquid silk. Or clay in his palm, happy to be molded to his liking.

“Yeah?” He drops a kiss onto your forehead and pushes in just a hint further, eyes darting up when you hiss with discomfort.

You offer a smile for him to continue and he returns it gently, but the way he’s fighting for breath betrays him. He wants you badly, he’s going slowly mad with the need to bury into your body to the hilt.

His fingertips skate a ticklish trail down the curve of your waist and then grip into your thigh, spreading you open a bit wider.

Both bare now completely to each other for the first time, you’ve given yourself over right there on the couch. The room is silent, save for hushed words and choked breaths twisting languidly through the air, the movie long since over.

He’d wanted to carry you off to the bedroom, but you refused.

You want him here. You want him now.

Palm cradling the back of your head, he brings you forward until your mouth is sucking at his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart. Good girl.” His praise flips your stomach. A violent somersault of carnal need. “You just suck and bite all you want. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding urgently against him, you’re far too interested in the marks you're leaving against his overheated skin.

“Words for me, okay?” He coaxes so gently it makes your chest ache.

“You’re going to take care of me.” You mumble through a long lick along his collarbone.

Without reply, he slides in deeper, yet still not much more than the tip rests inside you.

A shocked cry escapes you before you can stifle it and his face snaps up, searching your own for tells of pain that he doesn’t have to look all that closely for. “Baby,” the pet name sings out of him, a soft crooning apology. “Let’s stop, I…”

“No, please!’ The frantic want bubbling up inside you colors your voice and surprises you both, but he masks it well.

“Hush, love. No one’s stopping yet.” he soothes, massaging your hip carefully. Just wisps of touch, but you relax beneath it like a sleepy babe cradled up snug and safe.

You’re not fond of that ‘yet’ he tacked on to the end of his promise.

“Deeper.” Your hips lift, forcing his hand while you gulp down another sound of discomfort.

“Don’t.” His grip is suddenly digging into your waist, no longer careful, but swift and insistent instead. “Let me take my time. Let me be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s right, and you tell him as much as he begins a slow, stuttering journey. Starting and stopping as you writhe with impatience and uncomfortability in his capable hands.

Reaching up, he guides your fingers down until they brush over your sensitive clit. “You take care of this for me, okay, baby? Help me make this easier for my pretty girl…I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

“Please, Josh…” you sound a mess, and who gives a damn? “Please!”

You’re right, it’s time. He knows it better than you do. He can wait no more. There isn’t far to go anyway.

Suddenly, with one firm thrust, he drives in all the way to the base, shuddering as you coil around him like a hot, wet, fist. Squeezing harder and tighter and fuck….

“So fucking tight.” He is trembling, fighting the urge to let go already. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go. Pussy so pretty and soft. Like the sweetest thing all dressed in pink. Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”

Your eyes drift closed, breathing through the last remnants of the biting sting. You’re so full, it feels so good. So right. So completely perfect, you cannot begin to fathom how you’ve lived all these years without him inside you.

“Say it.” He sounds like an angel clawing his way closer and closer to something he can’t survive without any longer.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re gorgeous.” He’s fucking you faster now…and it stings, but it hurts so good you want to feel the burn forever. “Say you’re my beautiful girl. Come on, I wanna know that you know.”

“I—“ your face flares as pink as the cunt he’s currently locked inside

“That’s it, baby love…” he coaxes, pumping into you with long, torturous strokes. “C’mon,”

A little less tentative now - he effortlessly makes you believe - the words finally come “I’m gorgeous.”

He smiles so wide his nose crinkles as he nods and dips his lips to meet your own. “Fuck yes you are. My pretty girl. You’re doing so well, look at you. Just taking and taking and taking me.”

Pulling you up and away from the pillow gently, he guides your line of sight to the sinful image of him gliding in and out of you. His cock, glistening and covered in your unbridled desire - it catches the light and steals your heart. Is it possible to be in love with a cock? Or are you just in love with the man who wields it?

Both. Most definitely, both.

“Look, baby, look…” a quivering huff escapes him. “It’s like coming home. Being inside you is like coming fucking home.”

“Harder,” you beg, winded and lost. He feels so good inside you. Stretched further than you ever thought possible around him, you clench and twist a fist into the throw pillow beneath you until your fingernails threaten to rip it open.

“Just…fuck,” his pretty face buries itself in the crook of your neck with a whimper as he falters. “Just a little.”

The room is hazy and blurred, filled with sounds neither of you can seem to quiet. Each moan and breath filling your head up until you feel feverish. Every groan and gasp pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Your bodies meet in a sweat glazed dance that causes your teeth to grit together - biting down hard to suppress a scream that he might confuse with pain.

He tucks his own teeth into your throat deeply, growling out a melodic sound that sets you on fire, when the salt of your skin hits his tongue.

A shaky, “I’m gonna cum, baby love…where, baby, where?” Pants out of him with a desperate urgency the moment he releases your skin from his bite.

“Inside…” you plead, clawing at his waist as your thighs lock him in close. “Cum inside me…c’mon. Please,”

“Pretty girl begging for my cum. Begging me to ruin this beautiful little cunt…” he sounds as if he’s talking to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.

“Ruin it, baby,” your palms drift up his back, slow and steady…urging him along gently. “Ruin me.”

A sound so exquisitely angelic rumbles up out of his chest. Deep and primal, but somehow gentle and submissive, like he wants to fall at your feet in veneration of something holy and ancient.

He falls against you, pulling you as close as he can get you, and then draws the scent of your hair in only to feel that much closer. Rocking into you as he slowly comes down and finds himself.

Gathering you in his arms, he lifts you away from the disheveled couch, ignoring you when you protest weakly that you can walk.

A bath is drawn and laced with plain epsom salt to soothe your throbbing muscles. He slips into the steaming water behind you, cradling you as he drags a washcloth over your skin.

Quiet verses of a song you’ve never heard are whispered in your ear as you drift into a light slumber without worry, confident that he will keep your head safe above water.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @thelvnternskeeper @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn

[b-b-brekker]

One of the things that fascinates me about the end of the Crooked Kingdom is how it almost seems to reverse the roles between Kaz and Inej.

Inej already thinks their relationship is over before it could even truly begin, she's the one withdrawing now...but Kaz meets her bare-handed and vulnerable. For the first time, he does things that are entirely and truly selfless, without any ulterior motive. He buys her a ship. He brings her her parents. He makes her laugh. And despite his incessant paranoia—his need to manipulate/control/ensure that things go the way he wants—he buys a berth out of pure, blind optimism for if she might return, not when.

And Inej is the one on a mission for revenge. I know people tend to ascribe very pure motivations to this quest—and its true that Inej will save many over the course of her sailing career—but it's funny to me how Inej herself doesn't talk about it in terms of saving people or freeing slaves. In fact, she doesn't mention that aspect of it really at all. She says to Kaz, "I'm going to hunt slavers." (SOC 432).

And in the incinerator, she first conceives her dream she talks about violence. About destroying the system that hurt her:

"She wanted a storm—thunder, wind, a deluge. She wanted it to crash through Ketterdam's pleasure houses, lifting roofs and tearing doors off their hinges. She wanted it to raise the seas, take hold of every slaving ship, shatter their masts, and smash their hulls against unforgiving shores. [...] She would hunt slavers and buyers. They would learn to fear her, and they would know her by name" (SOC 311).

Even when she discusses her dream to Kaz here at the end, she reiterates that her goal is to tear it all down.

"It's not just the slavers. It's the procurers, the customer's, the Barrel bosses, the politicians. It's everyone who turns a blind eye to suffering when there is money to be made." [...] "That could be half the people in Ketterdam—and you want to fight them all." "Why not?" Inej says, "On the seas and in the city. One by one." "Brick by brick" he [Kaz] said (CK 526).

Inej is the one dismantling now, brick by brick. In the barrel, she had to kill people to survive. Now, she's going to be killing for retribution.

Not to say that ending slavery is not a noble pursuit—it 100%, absolutely is. Fuck slavery, all my homies hate slavery. I just think it's fascinating how bloody and violent Inej's chosen path is. And how she doesn't talk about the more noble aspects of her goal—saving people—even once in the duology.

Just...Kaz's story ends with him reuniting a family. Inej's story ends with her threatening to kill Rollin's innocent child. It's not what I would have expected from them.

P.S. I've only read the duology, though I have heard that there are mentions of the crows in some of the other books. I don't know if there's any more information on Inej's time at sea or how Kaz fares in Ketterdam without her? But I don't mind spoilers, they might even motivate me to pick up the other books lol, so feel free to bring up whatever if you feel like commenting :)

[morsking]

there has been a thematic thread linking marisbury's vision for humanity's future to kirschtaria's own desire to elevate humanity and protect the crypters, and morgan's own effort to protect the land of britain that contains the memories she made as aesc alongside the original tam lin and uther. this also reflects in artoria caster's existence post-avalon le fae as a simulacrum of the actual artoria caster that died in the lostbelt, preserved and embodied by artoria avalon so in some way the memory of that girl who remembered only sadness could be embraced by happiness. additionally, meltryllis in SE.RA.PH. breaching time and space to protect fujimaru is also a link in this chain. morgan's summer form, waking up after her spirit origin manifested her memories of being aesc, makes mention of the butterfly's dream: a philosophical thought musing that there is a transient boundary between dreams and reality.

the chinese philosopher chuang tzu once dreamt he was a butterfly, untethered and free to float in the air. he woke up questioning whether he dreamed he was a butterfly, or whether the butterfly was dreaming it was him. reality can feel like a dream, and a dream can feel more real than anything, underscoring how transience is an unavoidable part of the human condition. people will live their dreams and watch them end from the moment they are born to the day they die, and heroic spirits are the same because humanity lives every day chasing its dreams and heroic spirits are those dreams.

but starting with marisbury, we contend with the idea that sometimes, the dreamer does not wish for the dream to end. if dreams are transient because the dreamer must wake, then the only way to preserve the dream is if the dreamer fades away into the dream instead. marisbury seemingly committed suicide to preserve the animusphere grand order. meltryllis burned through the remnants of her existence to protect her memories of her timeline's fujimaru by saving them in their own. kirschtaria, already at death's door, stayed alive only to ensure his ideal and his friends could survive beyond his death, his soul being described as a bird taking flight with caeneus chasing in tow as he dies. morgan sacrificed being aesc so the land of britain could survive, and wiped her own memories of totorot and mash so they wouldn't be erased from existence for being time paradoxes. artoria caster used her entire life force to forge excalibur so the time she treasured could live on with her friends in chaldea as they fought to save proper human history, and themselves, from the rampage of cernunnos's corpse.

on top of all of that, there have been very cryptic visuals associating mash and butterflies since fgo's first opening. "shikisai" had the visual of a butterfly floating in ruins, and "yakudou" has a shot of mash's gaze following a butterfly flying into the sky. the butterfly is her guide, leading the way to the end of her dream. kinoko nasu himself once shared that cosmos in the lostbelt is a story about accepting that ends will come, and thus the butterfly is the lesson that she must take to heart to grow into a person who can claim what the purpose she chose is without shame or hesitation as the end draws near. this is something she did once saving fujimaru from goetia's ars almadel salomonis at the end of observer in timeless temple. and i would not be surprised if she did the same against marisbury at the end of cosmos in the lostbelt (which has yet to finish, as paper moon's trailer demonstrates having it be part of the chapter's title).

but what is the dream she is dreaming that is inevitably coming to an end that she will choose to protect at the cost of her place in it? if you've been reading this far, then the answer should be obvious.

but nasu wouldn't be much of a romantic if he believed an end is all you could really look forward to. the journey is far more important than the destination, because it's the only thing that can give the end meaning, as romani archaman rightly puts in his final conversation with mash. you can only extrapolate the significance of something after it's already over. not at the start, not in the middle of it, and not at when it's over, but at the moment that lies beyond the end of the dream.

and when a dream ends, that is the moment when another begins.

[mclennie]

A thing I really love about TBOSAS is its exploration of human nature through the characters, using the ideas of philosophers like Hobbes, Locke, and Rosseau. In fact, it's so important to Suzanne Collins that you make these connections that their most famous works are quoted in the novel's epigraph.

Gaul represents Hobbesian thought in the story, believing humans are hardwired to be cruel, selfish, and willing to kill each other to ensure survival. She tells Snow that the arena is "humanity undressed" and that even Snow, who had the right upbringing and education, quickly becomes a murderer inside the arena (tbosas 243).

It's always been interesting to me that she likens the arena, an environment controlled by the Capitol, to the State of Nature Hobbes writes about.

First of all, the State of Nature is supposed to be a place without any sort of interference, and in an arena, that's just not true; the Capitol controls weapons, food supply, and dangers like mutts. Secondly, the State of Nature was never a real place but more of a thought exercise, but Gaul seems to take this exercise at face value.

In Leviathan, Hobbes says that in the State of Nature, there exists a perpetual state of war, with no moral right or wrong, and to escape this "nasty, brutish, and short" life, humans must create a strong central state to impose order.

Snow's journey in the novel is to decide which worldview he ascribes to, which makes the arrival of Lucy Gray Baird into his life even more important.

Now, Lucy Gray is more in line with Rosseau's view that humans are naturally good, but society is the one that changes that. This is her line of thinking when she tells Snow: "People aren't so bad really[.] It's what the world does to them. Like us, in the arena. We did things in there we'd never have considered if they just left us alone," (tbosas 492).

What I like about TBOSAS is that unlike other prequels centered on the villain, it's not preordained by fate that Snow was meant to be an authoritarian dictator. He has a choice. He meets Lucy Gray when he's leaving childhood, stuck between two forks in the road, and he can choose whether to stay on the right side of the line, as Lucy Gray later mentions. But he decides not to.

He chooses wealth, fame, and power over love and goodness.

It's very telling to me that out in the woods with Lucy Gray, before their relationship quickly sours, he wonders what they should do after they meet their most basic needs. What would they do without books or music? What's the point of survival for its own sake? He even discounts having children with her because he says it would be "too bleak" to condemn a child to such an existence (tbosas 496).

Love is not enough. Not if you subscribe to a worldview where individuals are inherently cruel and if you think control is the only thing preventing chaos. When he turns his gun on Lucy Gray it's the ultimate rejection of her worldview, and his complete turn into Gaul's influence, one where it's every man for himself.

[ahamkara-apologist]

it's also wild because like. Mara Sov is outright manipulative. she outright says she has plans to kill you if you go astray. she has plans to kill everyone, actually. she gets information she has no business having just to do that even iirc. meanwhile Osiris is a stressed out gay old man who is trying to save everyone except himself.

Okay I WILL defend Mara here and say that while she is a manipulative bitch, yes, that's actually a good thing to have handy. The Young Wolf is fucking dangerous and so are many in the cast of Destiny, so having contingency plans to kill people as needed is kinda necessary (just look at Eris in the dark future). But Mara is out here playing games of 4D chess with the Witness and the likes of Savathun- she needs to play god like that because it's basically her job. The major issue with her is the fact that she doesn't know how to NOT play puppetmaster, and takes it into her personal life- what she did to Uldren was a prime example of that, and while I have many thoughts on why that is, the fact of the matter is that Mara is a person who does what she needs to do with the coldness and cruelty of a deity because that is the niche she's carved out for herself and what she needs to be to ensure the survival of humanity.

Osiris, on the other hand, is NOT playing 4D chess with the Witness- he's a soldier, a defender, a blade. And not only that, he acts the way he does because he's driven by anxiety, paranoia (well-placed paranoia too!), and the fact that for the longest time, he's been alone. He was outright exiled from the Last City! He was alone in the Infinite Forest with nobody other than Sagira and his own mind! That's a lot of centuries to be by yourself, and don't forget that those centuries were preluded by social isolation from his peers and betrayal beforehand. Osiris operated the way he did because his OCD had him constantly running on the assumption that the worst-case scenario was going to happen, and he had the experience from his time as Vanguard and his subsequent exile to show that not only did nobody believe him, they also didn't take it seriously (or took it too seriously) and wouldn't help him with it. Like, no fucking wonder he's always running around acting like he's the only person who's taking things seriously and throwing his all into solving the problem. His mind is hardwired to assume the worst and he has proof that people will not help him with it (though LF has him confronting that)

Like, I myself have OCD, and those repetitive thought spirals are no joke. Imagine that you're confronted with a problem, and your brain automatically jumps to the worst-case scenario for that problem. If you've gotten cognitive therapy for that, you know this isn't the case, but knowing doesn't change the fact that your mind is CONVINCED that the worst case scenario WILL happen, and it will get lodged to the forefront of your mind with all of its gory details while you try your best to ensure that it won't occur. Doesn't matter if you have to shift to doing something else- that fear, that worry, that will always be right in front of you. Meds and cognitive therapy have worked for me on that, but Osiris doesn't have those, and on top of it- he's got prophetic visions! I can't IMAGINE how awful that would be to deal with!!

That's also why his character development after Sagira's death is so big imo- as tragic as it was, Sagira dying for him forced him to really slow down and realize that rushing into things without thinking about his own safety harmed others, not just himself, and his subsequent reminder of his own mortality forced him to be reliant on others instead of refusing to let them help him. Part of why he was so impatient and brusque in Lightfall was because he had to rely on the Young Wolf and Nimbus to deal with an issue that he considered his own, and while it didn't go exactly as planned, I think that's also why he's softened up significantly since then. That, and him being unable to rush headlong into things and to just sit and enjoy his time with Saint (which he never allowed himself to do before because if he had the Light, what was his excuse for not fighting the Darkness) helped him tremendously. It forced him to face his flaws, learn that he could rely on others, and to slow down in life, and he's been doing much better as a result of it.

Osiris has only ever harmed others by completely disregarding the harm that he did to himself, and recent events in the story have forced him to reflect on that and change it. And maybe by being a bit of a blunt, extremely-honest ass that nettles sometimes. That's pretty much the extent of his flaws imo

[old-school-butch]

following the tent massacre, my question is, what should Palestinians do to be safe? What should women and children do to ensure their own survival? If they're told somewhere is safe only to be bombed in their tents, what hope do they have of surviving this war?

Unfortunately, very little. This is why war is so terrible - if only the people who agreed to fight were hurt then I would happily let them go at it. But when you plan for war, you are inherently accepting the deaths of so many innocents. That does not seem to weigh on leaders as heavily as it should.

There have been multiple proposals from Israel about where Gazan civilians can be safeguarded during this war but Hamas doesn't play by any normal rules. Normally, when you set up civilian areas that means that soldiers don't set up combat operations in the middle because that automatically makes it not a safe zone. Israel had proposed creating civilian safe zones in the Sinai peninsula but Egypt rejected the proposal out of fear that a) what if Israel doesn't let them return and they become Egypt's problem and b) Hamas would just follow their civilians into Egypt and start a whole other war since they already cooperate AND fight with IS jihadists based there, so Egypt would end up in a 3 way fight with terrorists and they'd much rather all this be Israel's problem.

So instead camps were setup in Rafah since Hamas' base of operations was further north. However, rockets are being fired at Tel Aviv out of Rafah now, so it's now clear that Hamas has established operations right in the middle of their civilians, putting Israel in a dilemma of how to safeguard their own civilians while removing this threat.

The only thing civilians can do in a war is be as far away as possible from combat. International law regarding combat make this obligation really clear to all combatants involved, which is why Israel is getting blasted for pursuing Hamas into Gaza. But since Hamas isn't a real government, they aren't held to the same standard and that's a problem no one has a good solution to. In the big picture, if using civilians as human shields means you get to win a war, then the terrorists really do win and we will all face non-stop terrorism because they will keep winning with this exact strategy.

But as an individual, if you know Hamas is keeping hostages near you or setting up rocket launchers next to you, your life is in immediate danger. But Hamas is not above terrorizing its own population, and women in Gaza have almost no political power so they are stuck here. Ultimately, Hamas needs to be overthrown and that can happen through Israel but it can also happen when the civilian population has had enough of a leadership that is so thirsty for violence. I mean, ideally, people might also become more wary in the future of voting bloodthirsty leaders into power but those lessons seem a long way off.

Having said all that, I don't agree with Israel's assault on Rafah. Yes Tel Aviv is under missile attack but the Iron dome protects civilians there while some re-grouping can happen to also protect civilian life. While freeing hostages was a clear goal, the theory of victory (i.e. what does it mean to 'win' or meet your objectives) to engage in this war with the goal of regime change is really tenuous. It's really not clear to me how that would happen and even whether Hamas' replacement would be any better.

I think in the face of terrorist and non-state actors, states need to re-think how wars are going to work in the future. You can't have one side that will do ANYTHING to save its civilian hostages facing another actor who appears ruthlessly willing to let their civilians die and not see that concluding this conflict is going to be bloody and prolonged. Israel hasn't really faced this kind of war before and I don't believe they are well prepared for it. For that matter, I don't think the world has a clear, successful strategy to handle terrorists and so far attempts to battle ISIS or al Queda have been similarly bloody and inconclusive. This is, of course, why these groups are spreading so rapidly - because killing civilians (your own an your opponents) until your non-terrorist opponent feels sickened at the slaughter and stops fighting you... works. The fact that Israel gets blamed for it is just icing on the cake.

One of the biggest problems with wars is that once you start them, they are very hard to stop. This is because only one side has to want war to begin it, but both sides have to want to end it. In particular, the loser has to decide they've had enough or the threat they pose to their opponent is ended. I remember watching the celebrations happening in Gaza on October 7th and wondering why these doomed people were cheering the start of war. If Hamas is literally willing to fight to the last civilian, when will they say enough?

[asherisawkward]

My reaction to the below post

Hello! Fan of Philip here. (I do NOT think he did nothing wrong. He did quite a bit wrong.)

I can’t help but notice that despite your claim of attempting to see things in an unbiased manner, you clearly have made no effort to step outside your favorite character’s side and look at things objectively.

So, I will list the facts:

Fact one: The Wittebane brothers were orphaned at a young age. This resulted in Caleb becoming entirely responsible for his little brother, who was dependent on him physically, financially, and emotionally. Especially when it is strongly implied that they had difficulties fitting in, as referenced by Masha, “They tried to fit in with this town, and its unsavory practices.”

Fact Two: Caleb participated in and even supported Philip with the witch hunting culture. Masha said, “They became witch hunters.” They, not he. Additionally, Caleb is seen in Hollow Mind making the mask that Philip uses when he plays “witch hunt” with his brother and interacts with the witch hunting community. There are also scenes of them witch hunting together.

Fact Three:Caleb met a witch named Evelyn and began to communicate with her. It’s never specifically stated how they met or when, but the memory painting below indicates that it was during a witch hunt. Take note of the pitchfork in Caleb’s hand.

Fact Four: Caleb and Evelyn kept their interactions regarding the Boiling Isles a secret, as noted by the rebus, Marsha’s statement of “They used a secret code to travel between worlds,” and the buried Titan Blood. They took great care to ensure that nobody would be able to find them out, including Philip.

Fact Five: Caleb is never mentioned detailing his change of heart and opinion to Philip, nor does he make any apparent interest in introducing the pair to each other until the scene depicted below, which is after years of Philip struggling to survive in the demon realm and thinking his brother was kidnapped. This leads Philip to having no reference for his brother’s growth and thinking that such an extreme change could only happen because of witchcraft.

Fact Six: Caleb and Evelyn had a constant method of transportation between the realms. This is supported by Masha’s previous statements, the buried vial of Titan’s Blood, the abundance of the aforementioned liquid and knowledge of how to get it, and the designated arch they used to travel between the realms.

Fact Seven: Caleb canonically abandoned Philip. This is not an opinion or a take, it is fact. One day, Caleb stopped coming back to the Human Realm and decided to live in the Boiling Isles with Evelyn. Not only did he ignore the fact that his brother was still clearly a child who seems to be closer to Gus’ age than any other members of the cast, but there is no proof that he even left a note behind to is brother or tried to take him along. Instead, Philip witnessed his brother seeming happy and free with a witch, something his entire society and even Caleb had taught him to hate, and he never comes back again.

Unless this portrait is just make believe?

If Caleb really didn’t intend to get stuck on the Boiling Isles, then why didn’t he try harder to get back to his brother? Philip has shown from his time on the Isles that it takes some dedication and knowledge of the dangers of Fool’s Blood, but it is entirely possible to get access to Titan’s Blood again. Caleb either was not nearly as motivated at getting back to his orphaned brother or he was not nearly as intelligent as we were led to believe through Hunter.

Fact Eight: Evelyn is in the late stages of her pregnancy when Philip finds them, implying Caleb was there for at minimum 8-9 months, which could play a factor in him not wanting to leave the isles and return to Philip. When Philip first arrives in the Isles, he is in his late teens or early twenties, as seen by his appearance below.

When Philip finally sees Caleb again for the first time, he has a beard and his face has matured to resemble his thirties. That is about ten years that Philip believed his brother to be kidnapped and brainwashed, if we believe both the math and Philip’s diary.

Credit to Teasnap on Duscord for fact eight.

Fact Nine: When Caleb and Philip finally do reunite, the former takes no consideration for Philip’s struggles to survive the Isles, the fact that he grew into adulthood with the same people reinforcing his biases as when he was a child, the terror and confusion he must have experienced at losing his only connection/parental figure, or any of the other trauma and issues that happened because of his choice. What does he do instead? He hugs Philip and introduces him to the woman he abandoned him for.

None of this is to say that Caleb is an inherently bad person or that he deserves to die in the manner he did, but he made some serious mistakes by choosing to leave his family behind for the Demon Realm, much in the same way that Luz does to Camila. What it does characterize him as is selfish and thoughtless.

I could go on a tangent about how with the way Philip was conditioned, he would have considered any kindness coming from a witch or demon to be a falsehood made to ensnare him and steal his soul, or I could do a lengthy analysis on how Philip desperately needs Evelyn to be evil or else the only person who ever mattered to him chose to willingly abandon him to a town that likely hates him. I could even do or link some explanations of the Boiling isles policies on magically weak or magicless beings are considered inferior and tormented (including Philip) (also note Hunter and Willow as victims of this).

The point is that Philip grew up in a place that taught him everything different, including himself (note his use of his left hand), was bad and needed to be destroyed. These assumptions were never challenged by anyone who could get through to him, and eventually he became a victim of the Sunk-Cost Fallacy.

Sunk-Cost Fallacy: the phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial. (cited: Oxford dictionary).

Philip mutilated himself physically and corrupted his very being and humanity in order to save humanity and atone for his brother’s sin of loving a witch. It’s even implied that he doesn’t have any real plans for living beyond completing his goals, at the end of “Elsewhere and Elsewhen,” he says, “It doesn’t matter. I just need to live long enough to see this through.” None of this is indicators of someone who only wants to play the hero and be lauded with applause and praise.

All of this indicates that he is genuine and serious about his beliefs regarding witches, demons, and humanity. The change from a scared child to a horrific abuser planning genocide that is shown through the evidence I’ve detailed proves that Philip is anything but a one dimensional caricature of a villain, and that to say such is an insult to all the hard work that was put into making him.

[expectopatronum81]

For me, the psychology of how the games work is even creepier than sending 23 kids to be murdered on television each year. Because not only are these 12 - 18yr old kids being forced to engage in a bloody fight for their survival, or commit atrocities that'll haunt them for the rest of their lives; they are also forced to do so on the terms of the Capitol audience. The hunger games weren't just created as a punishment to the districts. One of the main aspects of it was to provide entertainment to the people of the Capitol.

So during the games, not only do they have to cope with the fact that they could be murdered any second, they should also be cautious of how their actions affect the mood of their audience. In terms of it being a reality show, showing their expertise is enough to gain them some recognition, but what really gains them audience sponsors is behaving in the exact way that is desirable of them, and playing it accordingly.

Throughout the 1st games, Katniss is constantly aware of how the games are being perceived. Instead of focusing on her emotions about peeta joining the careers, she thinks of how ecstatic the audience vil be knowing she was there the whole time, and smirks to increase their curiosity on what was going on. She thinks of how the wall of fire was to shake up the tributes and how the 'real fun' was watching them dodge the fireballs. She plays a cool and arrogant persona when she's stuck up in a tree with the careers around her despite seeing no hope of escape, knowing the audience will be having a laugh (she most likely receives the burn medicine for the promise of dropping the tracker jacker nest). She gives them enough of a promise by destroying the career pack. Then there's the whole thing with Peeta, where she constantly ponders as to how she's going to believably sell the romance on her part to ensure them food. She passes casual comments on how there hasn't been enough bloodshed or 'excitement' that day, hence fearing game maker intervention. She does her best not to show her remorse for the other dead tributes or her longing to escape from this horror because 'no one wants a victor who snivels over the deaths of her opponents'. How she couldn't end Cato's life sooner out of pity, because that was the 'climax of the hunger games, the last word in entertainment as the Capitol audience wouldn't look away from their screens for even a minute', even though that took a severe toll on her sanity( not that she needed it after surviving the whole games). Then the whole 2 victor rule change solely to ensure 'the most dramatic showdown in hunger games history'. To continue their popularity( as a distraction), they are required to act as lovers in front of the cameras at all times, and would be expected to get married and have children who could take part in the games, just for the 'extra drama'. Even smaller things like how they're required to have a hobby after the games to show off to the audience. This applies to the 3rd quater quell too, but I think I've made my point.

In perspective, the Capitol ppl dictate the terms of their lives. Their likes, dislikes, personal relationships, mannerisms, attitudes are all carefully designed to see what gains them the most popularity. Behaving in a certain, expected way ensures that they r'nt cancelled killed. The constant need to know every single detail of their personal lives ensures they r'nt forgotten. Which is why they go desperate lengths to gain that popularity( Glimmer's see through dress being her angle for the interviews....).

Yeah yeah, ofc its just a rant, totally not about a literary master piece dedicated to commentary on our worsening culture, who'd waste time on that when u have twitter anyways?

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // nineteen

| @sani-sims

next / previous / beginning

EDELWYN: Already? What a pity. KYRIE: Suppose I could introduce to some of the others at a later date? EDELWYN: Oh, really? Well, that would be grand! Why don’t you come over to my manor tomorrow night. I’ll prepare something! LUCIEN: Is there going to be another party? EDELWYN: Yes, yes, why don’t you come as well, Your Highness. This will be quite the spectacle. Of course, if it’s all alright, Your Grace? KYRIE: Certainly. Tomorrow evening, then? EDELWYN: Tomorrow EVE: Well, that was easy enough. He seems to do most the talking on his own. Not the most interesting specimen, but perhaps the perfect candidate for your plans. KYRIE: Mm. Let’s hope. EVE: Have you someone in mind already to go? KYRIE: I do. I’ll spare you anymore time with the Duke. As you said, he’s not the most interesting. EVE: That is a great mercy. KYRIE: Speaking of mercies… our night is coming to a close. Things are winding down already, I’m sure we could get away without too many noticing. EVE: And leave Åse? KYRIE: She seems perfectly happy to babysit. Come on, Eve, let me enjoy a night without my shadow. EVE: Oh, very well. EVE: You never told me why he’s really here. KYRIE: I thought it’d be obvious. If it was my choice at all, he wouldn’t be. But the High Priestess cares little about what I want. And maybe she’s right to override my wishes. After all, things aren’t safe. EVE: And he is going to ensure your safety? You’re better off with any of us. KYRIE: A point I’d previously made myself. But, well, I exhausted my goodwill with her. That’s my fault. EVE: That woman wouldn’t know the right thing to do if it smacked her in the face. And you shouldn’t take on any guilt because of it. I won’t believe she’s trying to protect you out of love. KYRIE: No, I know that… EVE: sighs I’m sorry, Kyrie. KYRIE: Don’t be. EVE: You said your sister is alive. Then, you still have family. KYRIE: Yes, maybe… EVE: Maybe? KYRIE: I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that, now. EVE: Alright, then, we won’t. EVE: It’s beautiful out here. KYRIE: Mm. The city has its bright spots. I’ve gotten to see a good few of them this passed month. EVE: You didn’t get out much before? KYRIE: No. Though, maybe that’s my fault, too. Maybe I’ve been too complacent with my cage. I guess nearly dying changes your perspective. Even if I did choose that path. No, especially because of it. EVE: You want something different? KYRIE: I’m starting to. EVE: I’m glad. You shouldn’t lay down and let them dictate your life for you. KYRIE: I never wanted that. I never wanted to be so… indifferent to everything. I suppose I just thought there wasn’t anything I could do. I didn’t see a way out. Maybe I still don’t. But I’ve been asking myself if I might ever find my way to something better, then, what would “something better” really look like? EVE: And have you come up with any answers, yet? KYRIE: A few. Perhaps, most importantly, I realized I don’t want to spend my life alone. EVE: No? KYRIE: I don’t know. Being around the ten of you… those of you who have, for whatever strange reason, chosen to engage with me willingly. It’s different. And it’s nice. I wish I’d had more of it, before. But I know I don’t want to lose it going forward. I suppose, if we all survive this, many of you will move on, return home… Admittedly, it does make me… sad. Maybe more frightening is the idea I might have to learn to do this all over again, but on my own. Without the Moon EVE: I can’t speak for the others, but it’s not strange at all that someone would enjoy your company. I imagine it will be very difficult to go back home after everything. But then… what’s the rush? If you wanted to spend more time with someone, whoever it might be, then maybe you need only ask? KYRIE: Would you stay, Eve? EVE: If you’d like me to. KYRIE: Hm. Then suppose I shouldn’t ask just yet. There’s still chips left to fall. Maybe in the end, you’ll find I’m not the person you thought I was after all. EVE: Kyrie? KYRIE: Not tonight. Maybe some other day I’ll have the courage to tarnish that good image you have of me.

[ocean-sunfish-hater]

The Real Life Biology of the Three Body Problem Series

In the first book of Liu Ci Xin's Three Body Problem series, we are introduced to our main antagonists, the Trisolarans. Whilst we never get to see them directly, we are shown some of their biology via the game that our protagonist plays.

ID: A grand domed palace in a chinese style sits in the background of the image. The foreground has hundreds of ancient Chinese soldiers holding white placards on sticks. Two people dressed in Chinese armour can be seen riding horses towards the palace.

In the game it is revealed that Trisolaris, the planet in the Alpha Centauri system on which the aliens reside, revolves around not one, but three suns. As such, the system is subject to the classic physics conundrum of the three body problem (after which the first book in the series is named), which states that for most initial conditions the trajectories of three celestial bodies is chaotic and difficult to predict.

This means that Trisolaris experiences very extreme, unpredictable conditions, divided into "stable eras" and "chaotic eras". Stable eras come about when Trisolaris settles into orbit around one of its three suns, bringing relative prosperity to the planet. However, chaotic eras result in disasters, such as extreme droughts, seemingly endless nights, and even changes in gravity. The first novel partially revolves around the Trisolarans attempting to see if humans could collectively solve the three body problem and bring some level of predictability to their planet.

During the course of the game, it is revealed to the protagonist (and us, the readers), that in order to cope with the devastation and unpredictability of chaotic eras, the Trisolarans can dehydrate themselves and enter a spore-like state, hibernating until the next stable era comes. This allows them to bypass some of the extreme conditions and ensures the survival of the species as a whole.

Believe it or not, we have our very own Trisolarans here on Earth. In fact, there's loads of examples, from bacteria to triops, to my favourite of the bunch, Bdelloid Rotifers.

ID: An electron micrograph of some Bdelloid Rotifers and their mouthparts. They are long and slender, with a distinct mouth and tail section. Their mouthparts look like two semicircles lined with a comb-like structure.

These microscopic animals look freaky, because they are. If you've got any media literacy you've probably picked up by now that I am segueing here because they are somewhat similar to the aliens in the Three Body Problem, except this time they are very much real. Like the Trisolarans, Bdelloids live in very ephemeral environments: their usual haunts are the very thin film of water on moss and lichen. As you can imagine, these do not last all that long, and thus when they dry up, so do the Bdelloid Rotifers; in biology, we call this process anhydrobiosis.

"Ok, that's all well and good Ocean Sunfish Hater, but why do you like these guys more than the other anhydrobiotic creatures that roam our good, green Earth?" I hear you ask.

So you know how things that reproduce asexually don't have all that much genetic variation, and how sexual reproduction gives you an edge over asexual populations since you can keep that genetic variation fun and funky fresh, and how that has been the cornerstone for eukaryotic reproduction? Well. Well. Just like me, Bdelloid Rotifers have been completely celibate for 35-40 million years, with some people even bringing that number up to 100 million years, when they diverged from their sister clade. So how do these turbo-virgins not go extinct, racking up tonnes of deleterious mutations, not having any advantageous innovations, and eventually exploding into a genetic soup?

The secret lies in their ability to dehydrate. Not only is it a really handy dandy way to stay alive when your only source of water is gone, it literally rips apart their cells and genes! And why! Why the fuck does that help? It sounds like the opposite of helping!

ID: An electron micrograph of the foot of a Bdelloid Rotifer. It has been shaded a light green. The structure looks almost like a face, with a smile and two stalk-like structures that could be mistaken for eyes. But this is not a face.

Having this mild-to-moderate level of cell membrane and chromosomal damage enables the Bdelloids to take up genetic material from their environment, mostly via their digestive systems, where their last meals are slowly being broken down to reveal that juicy DNA inside. When the water returns and the Bdelloids rehydrate, this genetic material gets incorporated into their chromosomes as their cells get back to work repairing themselves. And they sure ain't picky. In fact, it has been shown that in some species of Bdelloids, up to 8% of their genetic material has non-animal origins. How cool is that?

This is probably what has allowed them to continue adapting and evolving, even when they have been reproducing asexually for so long. This strategy has been so successful that the Bdelloids have managed to diversify into over 450 species. Pretty impressive for a class of animals that haven't had sex in over 40 million years.

Perhaps the Trisolarans might have a similar mechanism as part of their biology (even if they do reproduce sexually as stated in the book). Maybe they've managed to survive for this long because they have been able to absorb useful genes from their home planet, just like Bdelloids have been doing here on Earth. I don't know if these are what Liu Ci Xin had in mind when he wrote the Three Body Problem, but they sure were what I was thinking of when I read the book.

If you're still here, thanks for reading! I know this was a bit of a longer post, but I just wanted to use the new Netflix show to talk about one of my favourite books and one of the weirdest, most underappreciated animals.

[wazzappp]

ALRIGHT WE BALL. Time to get on with the story (i have a story planned thats. a real shocker. im ass at writing but ill get this drawn damnit I promise)

This argument is one that just needed to happen. Robbie cant think of the infected he's been killing as people because that would mean he has killed a truly UNCOUNTABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE. Lisa has done what she has to in order to survive, and that includes killing the un-infected (which, of course, to Robbie is totally unacceptable). So when he's trying to explain the difference it just comes across JUDGY AS HELL. They're both proud and defensive and bad communicators and the conversation goes BADLY.

This happens while they're on their way to the Beneviento house. Lisa basically goes 'Alright if youre so high and mighty go ahead and beat this one yourself then!' and fucks off back to Duke with the intention to kill as many Lycans in the way as physically possible. Robbie goes ahead to the SPOOKY NIGHTMARE HOUSE trust me I have plans for what he sees in there and its appropriately disturbing but it also spoils the ending I have planned for this whole thing so :) hang in there.

BUT he ends up having a BAD TIME when he's trying to head back and what @rokhal suggested slotted in SO VERY NICE HERE (i feel i have sufficiently LOST MY MIND over the fic you posted i am JKSL:FJSDFDS F UCk)

'Picturing Robbie alone in the Village foraging for gunpowder and cash (because it's a Video Game and they can't just hang out in Donna Benaviento's house throwing the creepy dolls in the river while waiting for rescue after reconnecting the phone lines, no, they have to wander around the entire map) and he's saving the herbs for Gabe and using all the chem fluid for sniper rifle ammo or whatever. And he's fighting off werewolves and it's fine because apparently his health regenerates like mana because he's made of mold.

But as he's wandering around it starts to get harder and harder to remember how much cash and scrap he needs. And he keeps missing shots. And then he gets a little turned around but now he's lost and there's more fkn werewolves, and he's seriously low on ammo and he just wants to get back to Gabe, but he needs to regroup and his hands are numb so he tries to warm them at one of the villager's stoves.

And then he discovers that he's slowly turning into a mindless mold creature, and realizes that the only way to keep Gabe safe from him is to get really really really lost, so lost he'll never find his way back before something kills and eats him.

This does not work, but it does ensure that he is incoherent and barely recognizable by the time Gabe and Lisa track him down.'

Which is all MWAH. CHEFS KISS.

Anyway Robbie is gone for a WHILE and Lisa realizes that the puzzles she needs to solve to move the fuck on require 2 people so she's stuck killing any lycans that stray too close to Dukes camp and hanging out with Gabe. UNTIL, of course, Gabe decides yeah no fuck this fuck that Robbie has been away for WAY to long and I'm going after him. Only problem is that Gabe's abilities are kinda rooted too wherever his sclerotia pods (is adding pods to that redundant? whatever we ball) have had enough time to take root and grow. Meaning, despite her anger towards Robbie at the moment, if Lisa doesen't want Gabe caught, dragged to Mother Miranda and dismembered, she's gotta go with him (also featuring @moosemonstrous hilarious idea of her being proud of Gabe's attempted intimidation).

When they DO track him down he's barely awake. He keeps wandering in one direction then looks like he wants to turn around and go another but he keeps FORCING HIMSELF to go the other way (generally I think he would be a decent bit stronger, but fighting his instincts this hard make him seem more aimless. Robbie is borderline unstoppable when trying to get to his brother, but right now he's NOT trying to get to his brother. you feel me?). Lisa goes up first to make sure he's not going to lose his shit or something. He basically falls onto her with the single saddest "m'sorry" ever heard on planet Earth. If it's for FALLING on her or if its for the CONVERSATION earlier, Lisa isn't quite sure. But it's been years since anyone has apologized to her for anything and thats enough for her to decide she should at least sling him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes back to Dukes camp.

They make it back to the Dukes camp and give Robbie a couple of med kits (GOOP JUICE!!!!!) and he's a little more coherent. He's still trying to stay away from Gabe even though everything in him is saying 'STAY CLOSE' but he's got SOME brain space available because at least he's in line of sight now. Scrambled brain time is not the BEST for trying at an apology but hey, Robbie isn't really known for his great ideas and he tries anyway.

(ft me being unwell about shoving them together)

They're on better terms after this. The communication is still weird but hey its them so everything is weird. Plus they get some extra bonding time because I also snatched rokhals OTHER suggestion of

'....Been thinking maybe The Duke has a recipe that would heal Robbie...requiring meat from a golden dancing fish and the breast of the blue bird that haunts the graveyard and the tenderloin of the magnificent boar that sires all the swine in the Village...or something. So Gabe and Lisa have to go hunting while keeping Robbie calm...'

Ah yes. the high end flesh of the Great Village Fuck Boar. Delightful.

Cause I mean he's BETTER but still not GREAT. I think now that he's with Gabe he would be unable to leave him again while like this. Gabe would HAVE to go with them (we can get >:] 'Robbie goes into an overprotective frenzy and sword hands himself to hack some poor lycan that got too close in half' its a good time [its not. sword hand is very disturbing to him])

So anyway what Im TRYING to say is that the brainworms will continue

[artbyfinnbrown]

Screenshots of my favourite moments from Re:Zero Arc 7 (Part 2):

This raises questions. Actually just one: Why does Al’s authority not work as a child, and Subaru’s does?

Stargazers were much more horrific than I originally imagined. When they’re first described its phrased as “The Stars give them knowledge about the future”. When in reality its “The Stars highjack their brains and rewrite their reason for existing, forcing them to devote your existence to a singular goal at the expense of everything else”. They’re basically cosmic horror antagonists.

Between “The world hasn’t been destroyed” and “Only Natsuki Subaru can do that”, I think it’s safe to conclude that Al has at least some idea of Subaru’s ability. But that just raises more questions WHY DOES HE KNOW???

That’s an interesting thing to say, Al. Why would you say something like that?

SHE CREATED A HEINKEL-SHAPED IMPRINT IN THE WALL LIKE A FRIGGIN CARTOON CHARACTER THAT’S SO FUNNY

Every time before this when Subaru thinks back to people important to him, he thinks about the Emilia camp. Then when he becomes Natchuki Subawu, he’s only able to think about the people he’s met since he entered Vollachia. It’s a small detail, but it still manages to be unsettling. He’s still thinking about people who are important to him, but it shows how Child Subaru’s brain is adjusting what Subaru considers to be important.

It really says something about the Gladiator Island loops that Subaru having to go back further in time is framed as a triumphant moment.

AAAA she worries for him she cares about him she wants to be there for him AAAAAA

Damn, Abel really said “I have no friends” like it was a positive thing.

Rather than try to add my own commentary on this hilarious exchange, I will instead make use of the words of tumblr user Sufferu:

She really just out and stated that that Vincent’s probably gay. What an icon. Also as a bonus, she acknowledges that the fact Vincent’s probably gay has no bearing on whether of not he wants kids. Serena is like the #1 ally in all of Re:Zero. Also “I didn’t ask if you were serious, I asked if you where sane” is a hilarious line.

Alright, let’s do this

(Deep breath)

Fellas, is it gay to help a man get his cart unstuck, have that man ask you if you would die for him, have that man hire you when you said you wouldn’t, help that man become the next ruler of the country, become his right hand man, closest confidant and body double, discover that the man has had is death is prophesied as the first event that will lead to the destruction of the country, (and has planned for this, arranging things to ensure the country has the best chance of surviving after his death), and then decide to usurp that man’s position on the throne in order to take over his identity so you can die in his place in order to deny fate?

Wow, fore shadows. I wonder if this could mean anything’s for future arcs of Re:Zero. Nah, I’m probably just imagining things.

Man imagine only being able to kill Al 6 times. Those are weak numbers. You need to step up your game Todd.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in an Escape Plan

Summary - Part 51 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You reach over onto your bedside table for your phone and bring up the ad as he looks at you confused. “It’s not in the suburbs and it doesn’t have a fence, let alone a white picket one, but I think it’s perfect.” You bite your lip as you hand him your phone and he scrolls through the photos. After a few minutes you add, “It’s just up the hill from here so it’s close by if we do ever have to come back by the Bunker for anything. Sam can visit… But I know it’s sudden. We can wait, there’ll be other houses. We can keep looking…” you ramble.

Dean drops your phone on the bed and kisses you to make you stop talking. When he pulls back, he looks into your eyes and then says the last thing you expect, “Let’s do it.” 

Not comprehending his words you start to ramble again. “I love you too. I didn’t mean to spring this on you right after a hunt. Let’s just…”

He kisses you again. “Baby, I said yes already. We can look in the morning. Stop rambling and stressing.”

“Dean…”

“I talked to Sam. It’s time. There’s always going to be evil in this world, but why does it have to be our problem? There are other hunters.”

“But…”

“His secret crush? Another hunter who’s not ready to settle down just yet. They want to train other hunters, take a step back and ensure the next generation is prepared and has the best chances of survival. With Bobby’s help, he thinks he can get the Bunker back to its former glory. You and I can help, but only when it suits us. He’s invited Eileen, his secret girlfriend, over for dinner tomorrow night to discuss.”

“Dean…Baby…Really?” you tear up at the relief and excitement of it all. “But at dinner?”

“He knew I hadn’t spoken to you yet. So, what do you think?”

“I think I’m in love with you! I love all of that! We’re really getting out?”

“That’s the plan. I know I can never guarantee that some evil won’t try to drag us back in…And I can never fully guarantee your safety…But this is me doing my best.”

You kiss him deeply. “I knew I married the right man.”

“No…” he kisses you again. “I married the perfect woman. The bravest woman I ever met who also happens to be an amazing mother and wife. I never believed it was possible to have a future outside of hunting until you. You make me want more. And you make me believe it’s possible.”

“We’re the first hunters I know to get married. We have a werewolf for an adopted daughter. Anything is possible, my love.”

“Does that mean it’s possible for me to still get laid tonight?”

You check the time on your phone before putting it back on the bedside table. “It’s almost midnight, Baby…”

He sighs, kisses you softly and then lays on his back pulling you into his arms with your head on his chest. “You’ve had a big day, sleep.”

“We’ve had a big day,” you correct. “There’ll be other times. We’re married now. Good night, Dean”

“Good night, Sweetheart.”

You relax as his hand rubs down your back and his chest slowly rises and falls with his steady breath.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you wake up, Dean is still sleeping soundly beside you. You admire his peaceful form for several minutes. The light scattering of symmetrical freckles that adorn his cheeks, his perfect, model-like profile, his plump, all-too-kissable pink lips, and finally his hair that’s grown just enough to flop over his forehead. You carefully run your fingertips over his chest and stomach, taking in the ridges of his softly toned muscles, that he unfortunately keeps hidden. With a face and body like his, you know he’d make a fortune modelling or even acting. Not that he agrees, or believes you. Last time you voiced that belief he told you about him and Sam’s experience in an alternate universe where they were actors and their life was a TV show. It sounded absurd to you at the time, but you’ve seen and experienced a lot with them since then. 

You watch his face as you bring your hand up to caress his stubble covered cheek. 

“You know it’s creepy to watch people sleep…” Dean says gruffly without opening his eyes.

“But I married a model…”

He scoffs. “If anyone married a model, I did.” He then opens his eyes as he flips you both over so you’re trapped between his arms underneath him. He kisses the tip of your nose first and then your lips. You kiss back. He drops down some of his weight allowing you to feel the familiar intrusion against your lower stomach. “It’s been weeks. Please, Baby.”

You breath hitches at the feeling and the pleading sound of his voice. Every fibre in your body wants to give in and say yes, but then your alarm sounds on your phone. Dean reaches over and shuts it off with lightning-fast reflexes.

“Please…Say yes. Let me feel you, Baby. I need you.”

You put your hand on his chest and look at him sympathetically as you see the lust in his eyes. “Dean…”

“Son of a bitch!” he growls.

“I’m sorry.”

He drops his head, letting his longer hairs tickle your chin and he takes deep breaths to control himself. You reach your arm around to play with his hair in an attempt to comfort him. He pulls away and rolls back to the otherside of the bed. He chest heaves. His clenched hands rest on his face. You roll onto your side to face him.

“Baby, I swear, don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring. If you don’t want me to jump you right now, you have to leave.”

“While I know you have more restraint than that, I won’t force you to struggle more than you already are.” You push the covers back and stand up. As you grab a change of clothes you chance another glance at him and say, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

He doesn’t dare look at you. “I love you too. Now please leave. If you change in here I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Okay, alright. I’m going.” You sneak out to the bathroom and change into a fresh T-shirt and pair of jeans. You then quietly check on Destiny, who is unsurprisingly already awake and staring at the ceiling. “Hungry?” you ask from her doorway.

She looks over at you, smiles and nods. 

“Come on then.”

“Where’s Dean?” she asks as she sits up on the stool and watches you make coffee.

“He’s…uh… He’s sleeping in,” you reply with a small smirk as you move effortlessly around the kitchen making toast, serving her heart and pouring coffee. You open the fridge, looking for something to put on your toast. You find an almost empty jar of peanut butter and sigh. Goddammit Dean…His lazy habits saved my life once though…

You take it out and put it on the bench. You scrape out just enough for a single slice of toast and then sit down beside Destiny. 

When Dean finally joins you you glare at him and then motion towards the empty peanut butter jar. He places his coffee on the table and wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head. “I’ll go shopping today. Sorry, Honey.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“No, I mean, that’s new.”

“Oh, uh, just trying out new things. Do you not like it? I can stick with Sweetheart.”

“No, I don’t mind. It just surprised me is all. You’re not generally one for change. That empty jar is my case in point. All these years and you still drink the same beer, get the same meal at every diner, you’ve always used the same nickname…”

“Well, things are changing…I’m married now, we have a kid,” he reaches over and puts a hand on Destiny’s shoulder. “I’m the only one who doesn’t seem to be making any adjustments…well you know except…”

“Except what?” Destiny asks curiously. 

You raise an eyebrow at Dean and stand up. “Nope. I’m not touching that one. Good luck, Winchester.” You pat him on the back as you go to the sink to clean your cup and plate. 

Destiny continues to look at Dean expectantly, waiting for an explanation. Dean looks at you for help but you just shrug. He sighs and then finally says, “except that I can’t stay in bed all day…And for the last while I’ve had to share my bed with two women.”

“One, she’s a girl. And two, who’s bed?” You ask with your hands on your waist as if challenging him. “Cause that complaint can easily be fixed…You can enjoy your whole bed all to yourself if you want.”

Destiny giggles, despite not fully understanding what you’re talking about. She just finds the back anf forth and your attitude amusing. You make your way across the room to her with a smile and bundle her up in your arms. “Destiny and I can always find somewhere else to sleep. There’s plenty of rooms in the Bunker.”

“What about mountain house?” She asks quietly as she hides her face in your neck.

“That’s right! Shi-oot! We have to go! It’s on open house this morning.” You place Destiny on the floor. “Can you quickly get changed please?” You look at Dean, still in his sweats. “You too!”

Destiny hurries down the hall, but Dean hangs behind with you. He mosies over, wraps his arms around you and leans down to kiss you. When he pulls back you frown. “You said we could…Did you change your mind?”

“Can’t I kiss my wife?”

“Not if it’s gonna make us miss the house. Please, Dean.”

“I’ll meet you in the car in five.” He kisses you again before pulling away and disappearing down the hall. You finish tidying up the kitchen and then go back to your room for shoes and your handbag. You then go and sit in the driver’s side of the Impala. A few minutes later Destiny comes running into the garage dressed in jeans and a nice T-shirt, similar to you, with a hair brush and ribbon in her hand. 

“Help, please…”

Just as you open the door, Dean comes into the garage as well. You look at him and then back at Destiny. “Back seat, both of you. I’m the one that knows the way, so I’m driving. Dean, you’re gonna learn to do hair.”

“In a moving vehicle? No way. You navigate, I’ll drive,” he counters.

You sigh, knowing it would be a disaster to have Dean do her hair for the first time ever in the car. “Fine.” You stand up and usher Destiny into the car as you take the ribbon and brush and climb in beside her. Dean happily jumps in the front and starts the engine. As he pulls out onto the road, you gently run the brush through Destiny’s messy hair. You expertly multitask, providing clear directions with plenty of time to make each turn, as you have been doing for years while on hunts first with Andre and then with Sam and Dean, all while brushing and securing the ribbon in Destiny’s now neat and shiny hair. Dean pulls a park next to a modern SUV which you assume must belong to another family of prospective buyers, and shuts off the engine before looking up at the house that you’ve fallen in love with so quickly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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