#this is by far the worst loop ever :'d

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[cokou]

𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 OCT 2: DESIRE # Trafalgar Law┆Fem! Reader

Request ✉* Good evening, afternoon, or morning:) May I request trafalgar law x fem!reader for Oct. 2?

Warnings ✉* Somnophilia, a bit non-con, Shit writing

WC ✉* words┆ characters

In far, far lands, somewhere around mysterious places, is where your body lies. A tower, thats' height seems so endless when looked upon a far view. A tower where, it reaches the sky. Your body, unconsciously sleeping on a bed for nearly half a decade, the roses that seemed like it was given to give their utmost wishes for you to wake up soon, has faded it's life and rotted on the bedside. How unruly and upsetting.

Until he came, Trafalgar D. Water Law. He could save you, if he wanted to, if his heart yearned for it, if his heart planned it. Oh yes, he plans such a thing, such adventurous personality where no one could ever stop him, made him end up finding your whereabouts. He climbed, step by step, in the agonizingly long and high staircase.

The journey through the tower was long, every step of his had so much memories. As he climbed up, and up, remnants of flower petals that seemed to rot and crush up into tiny more parts had been revealed. Daggers, knives, and even broken up plates, it seems that this place was likely an eventful place somewhere in history.

Tower was so old it grew moss inside, grasses by the floor and cobwebs by the corner, making Law sneeze as dust particles enter his cavity. He coughs as the dust spreads, and so he covers his nose with a little hankerchief.

There it was, he reached the top, only to find a big room provided by tons of cabinets, tables, and finally a large bed that lies your figure. He steps on a bouquet of roses that crushed up together, making aloud crunch sound that made his heart skip a beat. Preparing himself for the worst of a possible person jumping on him suddenly, he unsheaths his sword, wuickly examining the features of such delightful face.

The gloomy walls starts emitting dust even more, making Law sneeze once again. As you suprisingly not wake up, Law had questioned if you even are alived. Yes, you were, he placed his ears onto your chest.

"Badump" "Badump" "Badump"

His curiosity got the better of him as he dragged his hands along your skin, which made you receive unknown goosebumps all over your skin. He rubs his calloused fingers along your curves, then your cheeks, giving them a light squeeze. Not awake, how was this possible? An idea clicked inside his head, but it must've been not a good idea.

Law runs his fingers over the long skirt you were wearing, tracing your thighs then your legs, all the way to your feet. He gently rises your skirt, enough reveal your pair of thighs, and yet he wasn't satisfied. And so, he lifts them up all the way to your stomach, still not awake. By this point, your underwear was revealed, your legs and thighs. It only made him more curious.

Moving your panties to the side, he sneaks a peak from your cunt. His cheeks behin burning, telling everything in him that what he was doing eas incredibly wrong and that he should stop, but that wasn't what he did. Instead, he continued, nudging his nose into your clit. Earning no absolute sounds from you made his heart beat so much faster, he wasn't sure if he should continue or not.

The temperature of the room increases as Law began sweating so much more whilst admiring the delicate curves of your legs, and your hole. Law takes the step further and latches his mouth onto your clit, he holds your legs to spread them apart, earning the silent sigh coming out of your deep slumber as you began furrowing your brows from the sensation Law was giving you.

His pocket watch ticks louder, he could feel his heartbeat jumping out of his chest. The time slows down as if the day were a time loop of yesterday's. Law's actions had significant effect on you, yet, you seem like you won't wake up any sooner. And so, Law takes upon the chance to satisfy the curiosity he was led to. It was a bit too early to stop, yet stopping would make him earn for more.

He sticks his tongue out and licked a long strip of your pussy onto his mouth, the saltiness taste of your essence take over his taste. He lifts his face from between your legs, and examines you again. No reaction, no movements, were you dead? No— it's impossible, your heart was beating. Law decides to proceed, unwrapping his belt from his waist and put it silently on a chair besides the table, and so he pulls down his bottoms and reveals his thick cock.

It felt wrong— no, it was wrong. He wasn't sure what came over him to do this to such a peaceful lady, he thought of just turning you in into the nearest medical centers of the town's square. Moments of rethinking later, he makes rhe decision to do it, just once. Then he would turn you in for the sake of your health. His cock was practically begging for attention, it was leaking pre-cum and was such a tickled pink colored. It almost looked shy.

Law holds his cock to steady it infront of your entrance, smearing the pre-cum over your saliva-covered pussy. His shaft practically sliding in so easily with the wetness of your hole. It was impressive how your body acted towards him as you were unconsciously sleeping. Thrusting his hips forward, the bed silently shook.

He thrusts in out out of you at a steady pace, bothering his mind if you would wake up in any second and kill him for his acts. He would gladly take the punishment for the exchange of your well-being. Law was shaken off as he heard you sigh deeply in your sleep as your brows furrow once more, his thrusts becoming faster in order to finish quickly.

The deep feeling in his abdomen was about to snap, his cock felt like it was being bullied to it's max, which it was. His cock flushed a deep pink by the sensation caused, his sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, wiping it off using the sleeves of his clothes. Law was about to snap anytime soon as he felt the heat drizzling him off.

In one fast whip inside you, he accidentally spills his seed inside as he was lost in ecstacy. Feeling deeply troubled, he grabs his hankerchief and immediately starts wiping you down, his lost of mind didn't bother seeing you silently rose from bed with eyes wide open from the man cleaning her for the very first sight she'd saw for 6 years ago.

"What..are you doing?" Law shoots up and feits his teeth as he was caught.

"I— was cleaning you..." Law exclaims, he earns a subtle smile from you.

"Why thank you! Though i do not understand why you muct clean from down there, I—"

"Forget it! If you're gonna imprison me and let the town's square that i should be beheaded then do it!" Law yells. You shot up a curious impression, tilting your head to the side.

"Why would I do that? You were cleaning me! And..woke me up! Why shall I imprison such a nice man?"

"Woke you up? What do you mean?"

"Oh, my sincerest apologies sire..I for sure was in such an unconscious state, yet i hear everything around me. Once you had stepped in, i already knew that it were you who was to save me!"

"Wha—"

"If you agree, then i shall marry you!" "W—..What even is going on..?" Law scratches his mind as tons of stories from you came up.

General M.List┆Hentober 24 M.List

©Cokou 2024, all works belongs to me.

[destinygoldenstar]

Mana Aida / Cure Heart

Cure Heart is not a Mary Sue.

The entire point of her arc in the season is that she cannot solve everything, and her overly selfless actions are actually a detriment to herself and the people around her. And at the end of the season she acknowledges her more selfish side as a natural part of her, rather than something malicious.

Also, she is not the main focus of every single episode. (*COUGH* MARINETTE DUPEN-CHANG *COUGH*) So the Mary Sue argument already falls apart from that alone.

Okay. Moving on.

I like Mana as a character, actually. She's not my favorite Pink Cure, but I do think she is one of the most overhated Cures of the franchise.

I don't like her design, though.

I don't think anyone does. I've seen nobody defend it other than "I mean it's alright, like..."

Let's address the elephant in the room first.

This is the first, and so far ONLY Pink Cure to have civilian pink hair turn into blonde hair as a Cure.

A nice idea!

Doesn't suit HER though. (I wouldn't mind if they ever wanted to try this again in the future though)

She's Cure HEART.

When I think heart, I think pinks and reds. Not... YELLOW.

And it's such a STRONG yellow too.

Peach for example also has blonde hair, but it's less saturated. It's natural.

Heart's is just not even blonde hair, it's YELLOW hair.

And yeah, the color clashes with all the pink because it's so strong!

Also, I HATE THIS HAIRSTYLE.

DokiDoki Team hairstyles are very weird to say the least. And they're pretty hit or miss for me. There are some Cures that pull off their hairstyles better than others.

Heart is one of the worst ones.

I'm just NOT a fan of the ends of the hair being these swirls.

These don't look natural.

I say as though I imply any Pretty Cure's hair is natural...

Aside from personal taste, I also don't like these because the dresses are so feathery and sharp.

And then you got these very round hair ends that clash with such.

SHAPES MATTER WHEN DESIGNING.

I don't like these weird loops on her hair tie. I don't like how long the hair not tied up is, it's severely clashing with her dress.

I really don't like these side barrettes with the ribbons. They're so unnecessary and don't look good with the blonde.

Okay so the hair seems to be the main complaint everyone has with this design.

BUT THE DRESS IS GOOD, RIGHT???

No.

I kinda have a hard time looking at it.

IT'S TOO MUCH.

What is with all these unnecessary lines? And whole other shade of pink that's unnecessary?

Why is her top slanted like this? It makes these lines extra awkward because they're all going in different directions.

Why does the feather on her right shoulder piece just CUT OFF in the chest area? It's so distracting.

What is this weird under piece of her dress sticking out under the shoulder pieces?

In the concept art, it's black. Which is worse.

But in show, it's actually pink and white, and I think it's supposed to be part of her pink dress.

Does NOT fix my issue though, because that proves how awkward these shoulders are. That doesn't look right.

The shoulders are so big that they clash with her hair, AND her cuffs. (Again, you can see in show it doesn't look right)

Usually I love long cuffs, but these look like an afterthought.

With how long they are, they look unnatural with the feathery shoulders.

Also, they're super bland compared to everything else, and it's so distracting . These look unfinished.

The side bow is fine, it's the least of my problems. But it also causes a ton of awkward asymmetry with the rest of the dress.

These white trims on her skirt are all doing wildly different patterns. WHY?!

THERE'S AN AWKWARD BLUE TRIM ON HER SKIRT??? ON NO WHERE ELSE???? EXCUSE ME?!?!

This is just really bad. Really awkward and sloppy to look at.

That's the best way I can describe it. SLOPPY.

THIS IS A SLOPPY DESIGN. And it hurts to look at.

D Tier. I don't like it.

Congrats Saki, you finally have a buddy to join you in that tier.

The CHARACTER does not deserve the hate. The design though? Yeah, it does. And I also don’t care for her voice being so deep in Glitter Force. I think a deeper voice would’ve suited Makoto better. Why does she sound like a thirty year old?

[di-writes-stuff]

The Story Of Us

Alex Keller x Reader

One Shot

TW: Mentions of d€ath, alcohol consumption, arguing. Light stuff compared to most of my shit.

“Now I’m standing alone, in a crowded room, and we’re not speaking.”

You and Alex were…well, you and Alex. Close, too close by military standards, but neither of you ever cared too much about that. Just enough not to cross that line. Not to start something that could never continue.

Then again, it’s not like you hadn’t ever thought about it.

Either way, you two didn’t really fight, ever. You didn’t have a reason to until he took whatever you are a step too far. Abused his ranking as your Lieutenant.

The mission was important, dangerous too, and you were on it. At least, you were supposed to be. That is until he pulled you out, replaced you with some rookie who did a worse job then you ever would.

His excuse still burns in the back of your head, the few words he was able to get out before you slammed your door in his face with a stern “Go to hell.”

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

You sigh, liquor stinging your throat as you remember that one sentence. It was easier to be mad at him before he said that. It’s not like you’re not still upset, but you can’t help the way his softly whispered apologies through the door loop in your mind like a scratched vinyl.

He just…he knew. He knew how important it was. And he knows how good you are, everybody knows how good you are. That’s why you got assigned to that job in the first place. And it’s not as if Alex disagreed. In fact, he knows better than anybody how much you could’ve handled it.

It wasn’t that he doubted you. It was fear. Pure, burning hot fear that you wouldn’t come back from this one. That you wouldn’t come back to him. In his mind, he couldn’t not do something. He couldn’t see your name on that list, the list that might as well have been a death sentence, and just leave it there.

He might as well have just killed you himself. And, in a way, he was right. Somebody died on that job. And not some rookie, this guy knew what he was doing. And still, a folded up flag was sent to a widows home in exchange for her husband, for her daughters father.

There was never a chance in hell Alex would let that flag replace you.

He wouldn’t.

No.

He couldn’t.

Although, it didn’t seem to matter much to you, seeing as you hadn’t spoken to him since the incident. It wasn’t his place to make that choice for you. You agreed to that mission knowing exactly what it entailed. Death is a part of the job, always has been, always will be. He can’t change that, so all that’ll happen is he’ll limit you, and you’ll resent the hell out of him for it.

To make matters worse, Alex decided to pull this shit right before the big, miserable, military ball. The night you planned on spending with him, judging all the rookie douchebags before sneaking out as soon as you can, hopefully with a snagged bottle of tequila in tow.

Instead your standing alone, leaned against the cold marble of the bar top, forcing the grimace off your face as the vodka burns all the way down your throat. Your dress is a little too tight, along with the heels on your feet that have grown far too used to nothing but combat boots.

In short, you feel like shit.

Even more so when the person you’ve been avoiding (and missing) for the past few weeks sidles up to you at the bar, sliding over a ten as you order yet another overpriced drink.

You were hoping to forget about the whole thing, but the blonde next to you clearly has other plans. “On me.” He says simply, flashing a grin at the bartender that has her blushing and turning away sheepishly in about a second.

The worst part is, he doesn’t even mean to do it. It’s just…him. He’s charismatic, handsome, sweet, charming, everything that made you see him as more than just a comrade.

Right now, he’s also an asshole, but you’re having a hard time remembering that when he’s looking at you the way he is. The smile he usually has on his face is gone the second he sees the scowl on yours, blue eyes softening with guilt as his shoulders sag.

Fuck, he’s handsome. His suit jacket was abandoned a while ago, and the bow he always complains about at these events is untied to allow him to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his biceps, tattoos on display in a way that makes stuffy trophy wives passing by scoff.

Your momentary distraction gives Alex a second to look you up and down, and he’d happily spend the rest of his life soaking in the view in front of him if he could. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, but especially tonight. The makeup you’re wearing isn’t too overpowering, not hiding any of the face he’s grown to adore so much.

Despite the way your anger weakens at the sight of his face, you manage to think up a spiteful response. “First I can’t do my job, now I can’t buy my own drinks either.” You turn to look him in the eyes the glare that never seems to leave your face these days piercing into him.

The sigh that leaves his lips is prominent. It’s not like he thought you’d just get over it, but God, he hates being on your bad side. Not just because it takes so damn long to get off it, but cause it’s you. “Y/N…” He starts before getting cut off again.

“Oh don’t you worry Alex, I’m just glad I have a big, strong man around to take care of me. I mean, whatever would I do without you?” Your voice is flat, yet dripping with sarcasm as you down the shot he paid for. All the while he tries to ignore the way his breath hitches in his throat at hearing his name from your mouth for the first time since this all happened.

He reaches up, running an exasperated hand over his face. He knew you would be mad of course, but he didn’t exactly plan on how to deal with it. He just…acted. It was a panic response, the only thing he could think to do that would keep you safe. Keep you alive.

“It’s not about that and you know it. I don’t think you need protection, and I definitely don’t think you need me.” He answers, keeping his voice low to avoid causing a scene.

If it weren’t for the topic, the situation would feel awfully familiar. You and Alex at a bar, his voice quiet next to you, saying just the right things to get you to blush, his flirtation making your knees go weak as you try not to choke on your drink.

You hate how much you miss it, just after a few weeks.

You hate even more that this is happening instead.

You turn to face him, something a little more than anger in your eyes. The kind of hurt that only comes around when it’s dealt by someone you love. The kind that makes your body shake with the weight of it. “If I don’t need protection, why the hell did you do it?” You ask, cursing the way your voice wavers at the look in his eyes.

Love, or something close, anyway. It’s dappled with guilt, juxtaposed by the knowledge that he’d do it again if he had to.

Something in him snaps at your words as he whips around to face you with his whole body. “Because it wasn’t just about you, Y/N. I’m sorry for hurting you, I really am, okay? I know you’re capable, more than most the guys we’ve got out in the field. I know. But I couldn’t do nothing, I couldn’t let you go knowing at least one person probably wasn’t coming back.”

“Knowing that one person might be you. I lo…I care, about you, I won’t apologize for that. I won’t apologize for keeping you alive.” His voice shakes as he prays you didn’t hear it. That little slip. The beginnings of a phrase that’s all but banned between soldiers.

I love you.

You didn’t miss it. Of course you didn’t. How could you when you’ve been waiting years to hear it? Hear those three words slip from his mouth, the ones that you’ll never be brave enough to say first.

Now’s not the time to mention that, you both know it, but he started a fire inside you, one that’ll need more fuel sooner or later.

“You can’t always keep me safe, Alex.” Softness creeps into the edges of your voice as you answer, anger draining from your body like glass through a tire.

He doesn’t think anything’s ever hurt more than that one sentence. He was always going to have to face it, some day, at some point.

But now?

That, he wasn’t ready for. “I know.” His voice is barely a whisper when he responds. There’s a pregnant pause before he adds on:

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

You quickly lose the fight to keep a small smile off your face at his words. You should’ve expected it from him. Stubborn, dedicated, loyal Alex. All the things that drive you crazy about him. They’re the same ones that make you love him, too.

Your fingers brush as you breathe out before responding.

“I’m serious, Alex. Never again. You don’t decide what I can and can’t handle.” Any attempt at sounding serious is quickly washed away as his hand slips around yours, grasping it softly.

Although, he’s still taking it to heart. He’s still listening, that much you can tell. Despite the way you, much like the bartender, blush as the beginnings of a smirk from on his face.

And despite the way he slowly inches closer to you.

Despite the way you lean into the circle of gravity that seemed to exist around him, you like the moon orbiting around the earth.

Despite the way his hands slowly sliding onto your hips send shivers running up your spine.

Despite the way your lips are mere inches apart, the liquor you’d both been consuming to forget now working to dampen your judgment.

Despite all that, he still makes sure to answer before his lips press against yours, a smile spreading across your lips to mirror the one on his own.

“Yes ma’am.”

A/N: okay this is a wee bit cheesy, cant lie, think i wrapped it up to fast at the end, but i still like it. figured it was only proper for me to write something for the love of my life before cod 3 drops. enjoy, girlypops.

(also i promise i’m working on part 2 of cowboy like me for any arthur enjoyers out there.)

- di <3

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

WIP Anagram Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @diabolical-blue! :D

Rules: You will be given a word, and you must share 1 sentence from your WIP/s that starts with each letter in that word!

My word: RECLAIM. These are from Totentanz:

R: "Remind me how you died most recently."

E: "Either he would die permanently or the time-loop would reset one last time, and the first one looked by far the most likely."

C: "Colours swirled behind the veil, colours that human eyes should not be able to see."

L: "Like most gateways to magical realms it was placed between two trees growing close together."

A: "After so long with Karandren as her worst friend and best enemy she couldn't imagine a world without him."

I: "If she had wanted to she could easily have become the youngest person ever to become a Great Mage."

M: "Most startling of all, he actually produced money from somewhere -- probably some unlucky passer-by's pockets -- and paid for his own food."

Tagging @akindofmagictoo, @ahordeofwasps, @mrbexwrites, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D Your word: EARLIEST.

[bootleg-parable]

I Dream of the Inevitable ; A Parable Progression

User woke to the sound and the smell of rain. Each pummeling droplet shattered upon the surface of his umbrella overhead- a bright umbrella that broke up the drabness of the bus stop setting. He looked down to stare at the dark-haired individual whose head was laid in his lap. They were asleep, and looked surprisingly comfortable for somebody who was hanging awkwardly off half of a wooden bench. User blinked both of his eyes and raised his hand to the left one that used to be missing. It felt so strange to be able to see out of it again. This entire circumstance came across as bizarre to him.

Just a moment ago he could’ve sworn that he was somewhere else. He was on the couch in an office on the ninth floor of a facility with a name he never knew. And he wasn’t alone. He had a friend- an older man named Teller- who was commonly there to keep User company, should he not have been at work. This was not an office, in fact, it was outdoors, which User had yet to witness in the loop that he thought he was stuck in. But the worst part to him was that Teller was not there, not even close. And when Teller was missing, it usually alluded to the worst. But User would keep his panic tamed.

He looked down again to the person resting against him. Their hair was black, but almost looked like deep shades of blue styled into a pompadour. They were in a uniform that User could only assume belonged to the police force of a city he didn’t remember. He tried looking for a nametag to jog his memory, and without much effort, his eyes locked onto it.

Shiloh Karmello.

Shiloh…

User got hit with a flood of emotion. How could he ever forget about Shiloh? His best friend. His housemate. The person once closest to him before all of this mess. Oh…Poor Shiloh. They must have been so distressed all of this time of User being away, if User was ever away at all. Maybe he was in a coma. Even so, no situation was better than the other. Either way, he had chances of turning up dead and leaving everything behind. Awful. Just awful. But now they looked more peaceful than they could have been, and even smiled briefly when User tapped the bandage across their chin. It was a bandage kind of like his, which was no longer present. User felt at ease here, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

Even if Teller wasn’t visibly or notably safe.

“Better, isn’t it?” Came that thing's stone-grinding voice, making User shudder once it hit his ears.

He turned and looked up to find the 8-ball-headed beast standing beside him at the bus stop, not looking toward him, but rather gazing out blankly into the land that vanished in the rain’s fog. It continued having these private conversations with User, and even though it never made a move to cause its target any direct harm, User couldn’t help but to feel threatened knowing what it was capable of and knowing that he was alone.

He held his umbrella closer to him and slid his eyes to look elsewhere. He didn’t want to acknowledge its presence beyond its voice.

It continued speaking. “You keep making these silly little mistakes without any regard for how they make anybody else feel. How often do you think about that?”

User would humour it this time. After all, backtalk has never gotten him far. “Would it surprise you if I said a lot?”

“It would, yes.” The monster chuckled, and in that very moment, it almost felt human to User. That wasn’t something that he wanted to get used to. “Because it feels so typical of you lately to only think of yourself.”

That was an insult, but he wasn’t going to pay it any mind, because somewhere in there he knew that it was partially true. He wasn’t thinking of only himself, though. He was thinking of Teller.

“But if you were thinking of Teller,” User’s head whipped around. It could read his thoughts, and now was openly replying to them. “Then you would’ve let him in on your little secret that’s putting him in harm’s way. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It still didn’t look at him, only leaving him staring up at it in his shock at its abilities. And again, it laughed.

“Much like everything else, Donnie, this ain’t real. This is a dream that I control. I’m in your head.”

That would explain the invasive mind-reading. So he was only asleep. He felt like he wasted so much of his time sleeping, but in an outwardly fictional office where he held no occupation, what more was there to do? He’s read a few books in his free time and completed just about every paper craft that he could find. This was all when he wasn’t bothering Teller, however. His entire, trapped life revolved around the older man, but he wouldn’t blame himself for this.

Even though he should.

“Don’t you think she misses you?” Now it was glaring at him with a clear interface.

She?

Its head angled toward Shiloh.

Oh.

User frowned. A sadness washed through him, and the safe warmth he once felt was now cold. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“You can go home, Donnatello. I don’t know how else to reach you with this idea. You need to go home.” Why was it being so…gentle with him?

Agh, fuck.

It was right- User knew it was right, he knew it better than anything. Why was he so attached to his imagination? So much so that he would avoid going back to the real world to restore the life that he had. Shiloh was everything to him. Shiloh is everything to him.

Then what other reason did he have to hold himself back other than the one present?

If Teller could exist in his mind, then Teller existed somewhere out there, and he was just as stuck with the monster as User was. He was a face User’d seen before. A voice he’d heard before. There was no way that this random office worker suddenly appeared in his head from thin air; that simply wasn’t how User’s mind worked. What if Teller was in a similar problem? A man dragged from real life into a fake setting that he couldn’t escape. If that were the case, he was handling it a lot better than his companion was…From what User could see, at least. Or maybe Teller has already calmed himself with the idea that this was all some lengthy dream. Teller could still have his own memories- something that User could not relate to.

User’s never asked.

Huh.

“Bright idea, ain’t it?” The beast teased. User scowled. “Shocking how you could’a never thought of that on your own.”

“I’m working on it.”

User could hear the humming of a light’s active filament from the thing standing beside him. The yellow illumination was getting stronger as the volume increased. When it’s voice trailed into his ears this time, he could tell without a moment of second-thought that it was mad, if the silence beforehand wasn’t hint enough.

“Working on it?”

He shrunk in on himself and tried to keep his hands from shaking as it got right in his face.

It went from a lethal whisper to a thunderous shouting that even the weather couldn’t beat. “You ain’t worked on SHIT.”

The rain was getting harder, and the more of it that came down, the less useful that User’s umbrella seemed. A flood was certainly underway. Puddles were expanding on the street below the curb, until the road was transformed into a river of angry water. User moved his hand to shake Shiloh and wake them, but to his horror, Shiloh was melting away right in front of him. Each attack of the rain burned right through them and sent them into wisps of smoke and black ash. If User wasn’t panicking so hard, he might’ve made a witty reference to the Wicked Witch of the West.

Shiloh would’ve laughed at it. That much he could remember.

“You know that I can see every thought and recollection you’ve ever had, right?” It was towering him. User scooted off of the bench, but that would not keep it from grappling him by the shoulders and holding him just inches away from the ground. The rising water tickled the back of his neck. “You haven’t even considered the option of gettin’ out of here until I started pestering you about it, Donnie! You wanna know why?”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. His backside was soaked now. Oh. He was starting to understand.

He’s going to drown.

“The only plan you’ve ever had is your plan to kill me!”

And now the cat was out of the bag, and User’s head was fully submerged into a stormy, turbulent flood. He thrashed himself around as hard as he could to escape. It was only a bad dream, and yet he still couldn’t breathe. But he could hear the monster’s words as clear as day.

“I don’t take lightly to threats, Donatello. Let alone indirect ones.” It pushed him further under. “You’d really ought to start playing your cards better.”

Please- User tried to reason. The only thing that left his mouth were bubbles and gurgled nonsense in the water. This was the most direct that the 8-Ball had been since taking his eye. He swung his fists wildly, but they would not make the monster relent. Could User die from this? Could he suffocate from a dream generated in a false existence? That seemed so odd to him, but felt so possible. His lungs were screaming for air. Even if he was released, he would never have enough time to swim back to the ever-rising surface.

But maybe this was okay.

User?

Dying this far along wouldn’t be so bad.

…User-?

After all, a lot of this was his own fault. If anything, he was getting what he deserved out of all of it. And now that the beast knew he was stalling only to kill it and banish it from a realm that he did not belong in, he hardly stood a chance in future encounters anyways, if more would ever come.

He was being shaken around now. His vision was spotting, and the sounds of water swirling around him were fading from his ears. But he could still hear the finishing trails of his name being called. His eyes were starting to slip shut.

This was it.

The world came rushing back to User in a sudden change of scenery, and he discovered himself able to breathe again. He gasped a few times and turned onto his side, fully convinced that he was about to throw up. He didn’t notice the hand on his shoulder until he pulled himself half of the way together.

User was awake, on the ground by the foot of the couch. He might have fallen off of it, but he wasn’t conscious to know. Teller was beside him, one hand on User’s shoulder and another over his own nose.

“Great heavens,” exclaimed the other as User finally regained his senses. “Are you alright? I was worried sick!”

User blinked, hard. He missed his other eye already. But he turned his head up to Teller and nodded a couple of times, then squinted at how his hand was held before his face. Teller caught the look.

“I didn’t move out of the way in time.”

“Huh?” User sat up and scooted Teller’s hand away. If his nose wasn’t broken before, it definitely was now. The other’s glove was stained in red.

“You punched me.”

Of course I did.

“I’m- God, I’m so sorry-.”

Teller hurriedly waved his hands in dismissal. “I’m okay, User, really! I’m more concerned about you. Are you okay?”

The eldest’s unbloodied hand cupped User’s face before shifting up to his head to check for a temperature. User couldn’t help but to lean into his touch. It was unusually comforting.

“I’m okay,” He said quietly.

The nightmare returned to his memory in clear, picture-perfect frames.One of few truths were out. Two left to go.

“It was just a bad dream.”

~~~~~~~

We must sincerely apologise for the slowness on this project's updates. We're struggling to find ways to progress the story without reaching the end of the arc so early into its development, but that is beginning to seem more and more likely to occur with our trains of thought slowing down. Our untimely disappearances don't help, either.

We appreciate your patience, and thank you to everyone who has supported The Bootleg Parable despite its many hiccups and absences. It means a lot- a lot- to us.

Have a couple of sketches.

The OPs playing with markers.

[ace-and-ink]

since i was a child

before i even understood what it meant to call myself a girl

i was held to a standard i never knew about

to this day i don’t know where it came from or who made it

but if i ever find him (i’m sure they’re a him)

my hands would find his neck

and i’d pass what they would do next

as their “instinct” or “natural order”

but since i was young

before i even knew myself well enough

to know what to call myself

i was told how to look and what to do

i was too young to be teased for having a bit of a tummy

because wasn’t i a child?

weren’t our bodies supposed to be like that?

i was too innocent to be laughed at for the things i said

before i learned to lean into it to prevent the shame, but not the fear

because how could i understand what i was and wasn’t supposed to say?

how was i supposed to know the social stigmata

before i could even spell stigmata?

i had a chest of dress-up things

tucked away in the back of my closet

full of sparkly princess dresses

and glitter-covered plastic heels

with tiaras and crowns

and painful clip-on earrings

because “this is what girls play with”

all the replicas of things from the princess movies

i could never force myself to love

so i used my tooth fairy money

to buy little plastic cars at the dollar store

with wheels that came out of the package sticky on their axle

but then i was always the one out of the loop

playing with toys at my friends’ houses

and no one came to mine

because i never had anything to offer them

that they would truly like

all throughout my youth it seemed

everyone was learning it but me

what to say and what to do

how to look and how to act

in order to be “loved”

my friends became too cruel too quickly

they laughed at me more and more

before i learned to make myself the clown with intention

until eventually they said the real words to my face

i had friends when they needed something

but otherwise i floated

and developed the fear of words behind my back

from faces i knew well

but could not see

the worst thing to happen to youth was the social image

some knew it couldn’t apply to them and that was fine

more knew it couldn’t apply to them and did everything to make it

most knew it couldn’t apply to them and couldn’t make it if they tried

hoodies became girls’ best friends

if diets didn’t

even today the hands of those who’ve lived before me

drag the razor blades over my legs

and under my arms

and across my stomach

my greatest mercy was learning about the l-word

i could finally pin the source of my outcastness on something

i wouldn’t say i ever hated it

but i know it took me time for it to become the home it is to me today

but even then

no one understood it, not where i grew up

so in reality i was ousted further still

some days too nervous to go into the locker room

fearing that my teammates would be scared of me in there

but no one got it better than the women

who used and loved the l-word and the d-word

and i looked up to them more and more

saw myself more and more

i took their looks to my body

i was a walking stereotype

because in my home town

you had to look like you were something

else you were the butt of the joke for other reasons

even worse if you said you were one thing

but never matched the part

i learned that over at least my ten years

even now

when my body and choices are my own

god forbid i add another metal rod through my skin

because then i’ll look like something odd

but i learned about odd from people who used the t-word

and i learned about comfort from those who didn’t use a word at all

i may still act like your token character

but i don’t look like anything in particular anymore

i’m still working on quelling my fear of the voices behind me

but my body is in my own hands and care

and i’ve learned to love her more and more

but not for the reasons the little girl i was might’ve thought

and i keep those other hands far away

from my lip and my chin

i’ll bring the razor there on my own

if only to keep the hair there healthy

— bodily

[everygame]

Pac-Land (Famicom)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 21/09/1985 Completed: 17/11/2023 Completion: Beat all five levels before it looped. Version Played: Namco Museum Archives Vol. 2 Trophies / Achievements: n/a 

Whelp, I accidentally put this in my spreadsheet as being released in November 198*6* instead of 1985, where it makes a lot more sense. But here’s what I’ll say, immediately: I wish it hadn’t been released until 1986!

Pac-Land is one of the earliest games I remember playing in the arcades, indeed I have memories of playing it in an arcade in Candleriggs Market which hasn’t existed since… the mid-90s? and I remember it being one of my absolute favourites before I graduated to things like Contra. It’s not really hard to see why. It’s colourful, full of character, and easily understandable by a bairn as probably [“probably? Great research”--Ed.] the earliest side-scrolling character action game, coming out a hair ahead of the hella seminal Kung-Fu Master. And it is, in turn, just as seminal, transparently influencing Super Mario Bros.--though it’s extremely amusing to note that Toru Iwatani claims that Shigeru Miyamoto told him the game had a “profound” influence on it, and Miyamoto himself sniffily claims that the only direct influence was choosing a blue background instead of a black one. Pull the other one, Shiggy!

It’s possible that this gave Namco a bit of a complex about Pac-Land, because Nintendo brought out Super Mario Bros. and by all accounts it was immediately a massive hit, and desperate to not fall behind as, after all, they bloody invented the thing, they shoved a Famicom port out of the door as quickly as possible. 

Released, as far as the dates I have here claim, just over two months after Super Mario Bros. hit on Famicom, I would fully believe that they didn’t start development on it until they saw what a hit Super Mario Bros. was, because this is absolutely dire. In fact, I think it might be one of the worst ports of a game I’ve ever, ever played. It is shite on every level.

For one, just look at the screenshot, and compare to what the arcade original looked like. Sure, you can claim that it’s too early in the Famicom/NES life-cycle for people to have got nice big sprites working while also scrolling smoothly, but the background art doesn’t even look finished (and on the Namco Museum Archives Vol. 2 version, you can see multiple bits of glitchy art if you are paying attention). The game literally just cuts seemingly in the middle of a level to get to the arcade game’s “break time” interstitials, which don’t have any of the fairy animations in them at all!

Here’s the most insane thing about it though. It’s so insane I doubt you’ll actually believe me. This came out after Super Mario Bros., and… you use the A and B buttons to move left and right and the d-pad to jump. You know, the directional pad. You use it to… jump.

What? Oh, and there’s a hidden-unless-you-remember-this-from-the-arcade run that you perform by double-tapping. I only worked this out after getting to the second level and wasting loads of time trying to do lots of precise platforming between platforms where you bump your head constantly (a bugbear) and thought it might be unfinishable.

It may as well be, really. There’s only five levels, and insultingly the level design isn’t anything like the arcade original at any point like it’s a port made for the ZX Spectrum where all they had to go on was a bunch of black-and-white faxes of polaroids taken of the game off-screen with the flash on. The first level doesn’t even feature the cars (though according to The Cutting Room Floor, they’re in there) and as the game goes on you can sense Namco panicking that people will finish it in about 20 minutes so they, I guess, innovate again by making you perform some kaizo mario-esque nonsense where you have to ride one enemy to survive a long pit and then, at the very end of the game (spoiler) you have to wait for the clock to run down, and time bouncing off the enemy that is sent to kill you to get across the last chasm!

It’d be a clever idea if the game was a) about that sort of thing and for an audience who were used to the tropes and b) not totally shite.

Will I ever play it again? I’m angered that I’ve ever played it. I look forward to playing the arcade version again one day, though.

Final Thought: I checked, and the ZX Spectrum version is sadly flick-screen rather than scrolling, though it’s probably still better than this. The Amstrad version doesn’t scroll either, but the bastarding C64 does? Boo!

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[jewpacabruhs]

I genuinely wish it were possible to scroll through the kyman tag for more than five minutes without encountering hate. Like, I hey people being uncomfortable with the ship and disliking it, but they don't have to go out of their way to be mean and tag their hate? I find it kind of funny when it's people like the guys who made the microceleb au who say the most demented vile shit on a daily basis (cool, it's south park) but are so childishly malicious and prudish about kyman? Like, this is south park tumblr, we are all in the circus together

i know right :( honestly... i dont wanna get into ship morality discourse, but my general thought on that is we've strayed far too far from a good ol 'this thing squicks me out, im gonna avoid it and focus on what i like' mentality. remember 'dont like, dont read' from the fanfic dot net days? we need that back. i have a handful of ships that make me very deeply uncomfortable - yknow what i do? i block the tag and i dont think about it ever bc its not worth my time. maybe if i run into smth ill complain in private, but im not gonna waste time policing other ppl's fandom experience when there's much more important stuff going on in the world. i think problematic ship discourse is one of the silliest, most chronically online things in the world. like you said - it's south park, greg. fandom is meant to be a fun hobby, and a lot of people have turned it into a miserable and extremely puritan lifestyle. curate ur fandom experience, keep it fun, dont dwell on negative bullshit . best advice i can give.

as for this microceleb au thing, i had to google it cuz i have no idea what the hell ur talkin abt fsdjkfd. i am so fantastically out of loop w the sp fandom - and thank g-d, honestly. im still fond of south park and cartman & kyman are still in my all-time fav characters + ships, but as a south park fandom veteran, lemme tell you - this is one of the most... bizarre fandoms ive been in, let's say that. i was gonna say worst, but that's simply not true, because there's a lot of really great talent and i have a tremendous amount of respect and fondness for a lot of rlly wonderful creative artists n writers ive had the pleasure of knowing. but there's like... a culture thats specific to the sp fandom, thats just a bit... rancid. my sp fixation seems to be recurrent, but if i ever come back im gonna tread the fandom carefully cuz its just very easy to get sucked into nonsense. but that being said, i havent been active in it for a few years now. might be totally different now. doesnt fully sound like it, though

[mittensmorgul]

14.18 and 14.19 both will require additional viewings to fully understand the gravity of everything revealed, and context I think we’re only fully going to get in s15. Even now, after having seen 14.20, I have more questions than answers, I think. A big part of the reason for this is how much of the story focuses on how POV affects perception, and how easy it can be to manipulate actions based on that, combined with the effect of the weight of one’s own emotions on both perception and vulnerability to manipulation.

The story is screwing with everyone-- the characters AND us-- on a very meta level here.

Going through 14.18, from Cas’s grief and self-blame over not having told Sam, Dean, and Mary what he suspected about Jack being dangerous, to Dean’s transfer of blame to him because of the emotional weight conversation with Sam, because it calls back to Dean’s ENTIRE relationship with Jack, how his first reaction was “DIE” and that only gradually shifted into grudging acceptance through his grief and despair over losing Cas, into actual acceptance after Cas returned, into sympathy after Jack’s first mistake that led to the death of an innocent, into full familial acceptance by the time Dean says yes to Michael. In s14, Dean FINALLY feels a more parental sort of bonding with Jack, and as soon as he does, Jack sickens and dies. It’s almost like Dean has been manipulated into being prepared to make this ultimate sacrifice all along.

Their whole family is cursed. He’s poison, etc. etc.

This same perspective shift happens for Jack, being “guided” into believing that HE is somehow “poisoned” as well, that because of his actions the Winchesters will no longer trust him, but his vision of Lucifer convinces him that because of this, he can no longer trust them. Jack is so desperate to redeem himself in the eyes of the Winchesters that he’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is good.

How many layers of manipulation are going on here? The narrative spirals are turning so fast we’ve practically reached F5 tornado status here.

Dumah, in 14.19, finally has what she’s wanted since Jack was born. Apparently having locked Naomi away for having “failed” to defend Heaven from the incursion of the Empty Entity was nothing more than a pretense to use Jack for her own power play. Dumah truly believes she’s doing the right thing, because in times past, this perfectly lines up with what Heaven always did. Her version of a Heaven without mercy harks back to the mindset of angels during the Apocalypse era, of Michael and his mission to destroy worlds.

Jack TRULY BELIEVES that “purifying the world” and “making angels” out of human souls would please the Winchesters. The fact that he still willingly got in the Ma’lak box is the biggest demonstration of just how easily manipulated he is.

The way Dean’s been broken down to be prepared to believe that they have no other choice but to kill Jack, to sacrifice himself in the process, applies to everyone. It’s always been a manipulation, in the biggest way possible.

So that said, on to my questions:

1. Is Jack’s vision of Lucifer actually Chuck manipulating him, because heck that would be a nice turn from Lucifer pretending to be God to manipulate Sam back in s11. In the end, does it even really matter what the source of Jack’s visions are?

2. Did Jack actually cause Mary’s death, or did this force manipulate him into the power burst that killed her? Does that even really matter? Because it’s not about the act, but the perception of it. Because the perception of it is all that mattered to Jack, in the end. He rejected Mary’s perception of him as “not well.” He’s sadly following Donatello’s advice, with the “What Would The Winchesters Do.” But Jack’s own perception of what they would do is fundamentally flawed without his soul. Donatello replaced his missing empathy with the consideration of possibly the most morally kind man ever to live, a man who based all his choices and actions on how they might affect others. Kindness was Mr. Rogers’ mantra. Jack lacks the maturity to understand this, and instead has based his own actions on the results of his actions, and whether or not the Winchesters would approve, which is a distinctly different thing, and Jack lacks the mechanism to understand this. This is what makes him so terrifyingly dangerous now.

3. Everything that’s happened in s14 has brought TFW to this point where Chuck thought they would feel backed into this corner, where in the past they would be ready to accept Chuck’s terms for the conclusion of the story, the self-sacrifice, the terrible fate, as the absolute last resort solution to save the world. And at first it seems to work. At the beginning of 14.20, Dean seems ready to do the deed, because his perception isn’t just about Jack’s danger to the world, but also the fact that he feels at least indirectly responsible for what’s happened to Jack now.

Chuck’s first line when he finds Cas is, “Wow, you guys are screwed.” *smarmy smile* Cas calls him God, he objects, and is pleased when Cas calls him Chuck, because “Chuck” is a likable, personable dude, and God is a terrifying all powerful being. Perception, and manipulation.

DEAN: You know what I'm gonna say. SAM: Let me guess. This is where you tell me you're gonna pull the trigger. DEAN: Yeah, it is. We don't have a choice, Sam. SAM: Of course, we do. Don't we always? I mean, isn't that the point of everything we've ever done, that we always have a choice? DEAN: He killed our mom. SAM: I get it. I was mad, too. Or you know what? Hell, I'm still mad. And a part of me wants Jack dead -- it really does. But, Dean, we haven't even tried to save him. DEAN: S-- Okay. You heard him, right? He actually blamed Mom for what happened. SAM: He doesn't have a soul. DEAN: And whose fault is that? SAM: Mine. I'm the one who brought him back, and I brought him back because he's family. DEAN: Okay. SAM: And then he came back, and he burned his soul off to save us -- you and me. And now what? You... Now you -- you want my permission? You want me to say I'm cool with losing him and losing you all at once? 'Cause I can't do that. I won't say that, 'cause I... No. I've already lost too much.

It’s interesting that Jack’s visit with his grandmother is what begins to shift his perceptions of himself into understanding. She goes from demanding answers about “What did you do,” into “What are you?”

So I talked above how Dean and Jack’s stories are entwined, but this is where Cas and Jack’s stories are entwined-- through Jack’s desire to do good, to do the right thing and yet always somehow making things worse despite their best intentions. Mostly because they tried to do the right thing by their own POV and perception, without understanding how they were manipulated into it. Like Cas in s6 manipulated by Crowley, by Dean’s promise to Sam to go live a normal life away from hunting, feeling the burden to fix everything on his own and unable to see any other way because of the depth of lies being uncovered would lead to the disappointment that was what he truly feared all along.

Which is why at the final moment, what finally gives Dean pause in his conviction that Jack needs to die, is Jack’s understanding and acceptance, his willingness to face what he’d done and truly repent:

JACK: You're not gonna lock me up again, are you? DEAN: No. (Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack) SAM: Dean? Dean! JACK:(to Dean) I understand. SAM: Dean, don't! Dean? Dean! JACK: I know what I've done. [...] JACK: And you were right all along. I am a monster.

And in the end, the fact that Jack understands is what makes Dean realize that there is still another way.

Because in this part of the story, this is where Sam’s parallel isn’t aligned to Jack’s, but to Chuck. Sam picks up the Equalizer gun and shoots both Chuck and himself with it.

Writers lie.

And this lie is Chuck’s downfall. Because he was never on their side.

All that talk of stopping an apocalyptic thing by killing Jack? And then he starts an apocalypse with a snap of his fingers? Yeah. But he’s shown his hand now, and this changes everything.

And can y’all even conceptualize how O_O it is to loop from that scene in the graveyard to Mary tucking in baby Sam in in the pilot episode? Because I am now suffering. Chuck did this. He did all of this.

[lovelyhan]

what are your svt fic recs??? like your holy grail??

took me a while to put this together BUT here it is!

disclaimer that i've been a carat for like . a month so it's a stretch to say i've read a lot of svt content. tho from what i've consumed so far, my favorites are listed under the cut :>

i'll start with the ones i found on ao3 first hehe

push it down (sooner or later it all comes out) by dontflailmenow × tags: s.coups x reader; camboy!cheol, enemies to lovers

the first EVER svt fic i've read, and it was just so WOW!!!! basically, reader recently broke up w her ex, which is seungcheol's best friend. cheol and mc aren't on the best of terms (always arguing etc.) so when she realizes that the camboy she's been lusting over to get over her ex turns out to be cheol, some...problems start to arise i'm pretty sure i saw this one around tumblr but i'm too lazy to find the op's blog i'm so sorry HEUUUHEU but i really loved it to pieces, and it ultimately flung me into svt fanfic tumblr altogether :D

The bore next door by HoneyAteez × tags: wonwoo x reader; blind dates, suffocation via cock LOL

another fic that i am fairly sure is cross-posted on tumblr too, but can't be assed to find -- your mother sets you up with good neighbor jeon wonwoo, and he turns out to be the worst sexual deviant on the face of the earth, fucking the soul out of your body right after the first date.

Walking in Traffic by versigny × tags: mingyu x reader; soulmate au, teens being teens

literally crying as i type this because it's one of the most beautiful coming of age stories i've ever read, and it was written back when i was still in mf HIGH SCHOOL 😭 reader and gyu find out they're soulmates way too early, and pretty much despise each other growing up, but they eventually come to terms with their soul bond along the line.

close proximity by chilligyu × tags: mingyu x reader; roommates, LOTS OF ANGST

there's no explicit smut in this one, but the plot twists and the narration itself threw me in for SUCH a goddamn loop that it would be a hate crime not to include this here. mingyu becomes reader's roommate upon bff!wonwoo's recommendation, and they and up falling for each other, and [gets dragged off stage because spoilers]

now for the tumblr recs!

sapiosexual by @smileysuh × tags: s.coups x reader; sugar daddy au, psych daddy!cheol,,,,

it's a pretty straightforward sugar daddy au, but what makes it different is how it's written, y'know? cheol clearly lays all of the details for he and reader to agree on, making sure all the boundaries are clear and there aren't any blurred lines. seungkwan as your best friend is also a really enjoyable addition (he's the one who coined the term psych daddy LOL), AND i just love the author's humor in general.... quirofilia [bursts out laughing]

A Break by @smileysuh (again bc i'm obsessed w their work) × tags: mingyu x reader x wonwoo; svt as babysitters, budding poly

so op has an entire assortment of meanie poly fics, but this one is probably my most favorite bc it touches on a more endearing and responsible side to mingyu :') he and reader just can't sit down and fuck because he's busy worrying about their child every ten minutes LOL. enter jeon wonwoo, who is not only baby saebyeok's favorite uncle, but has been pining for the reader since time immemorial. of course, gyu has known all along, and asks them if they're both down to have a threesome (this is literally a terrible way to summarize the story, but i suggest you just read it &lt;3) OH OH bonus: hoshi tries to sacrifice the baby to the tiger gods in a summoning circle made of tiger plushies. if that doesn't sell this fic for you, i don't know WHAT will

Love, Actually by @haet-sal × tags: jun x reader; cheating but not really? whipped single dad!jun

aka the fic that catalyzed my jun brain damage. reader works as jun's secretary but she isn't very...good at her job, but he keeps her around anyway bc 1.) his kid likes her, and 2.) HE likes her. problem is: she has a boyfriend-not-boyfriend, but Because that boyfriend-not-boyfriend is an asshole, she kind of uses jun as a constant rebound, poor guy (it has a happy ending tho i promise!!)

an untitled dk friends 2 lovers by @husbandhoshi × tags: dk x reader; idiots in love

this is actually preceded by 2 more drabbles from the op, but i'm linking this one specifically bc it made me physically long for big dick boyfriend lee seokmin. the thing i like most about smut written for dk is that he's ALWAYS so fun and endearing and lovable in bed, and what's more is that this one's a friend to lovers fic, so there's YEARS worth of pining and puppy love to spice up the sex hehehehehehe it really really deserves more recognition !!

right where you left me by @tonicandjins × tags: wonwoo x reader; exes getting back together, ANGST

i have a shitty memory so i can't go into the specifics on what this fic is about. it's one of the first ones i read on tumblr, but it's been a hot minute but i DO remember writhing in bed right after reading it, so it definitely earns a spot on the rec list! reader and wonwoo lived together in their hometown, but had to break up when wonwoo moves to seoul and he just couldn't make any compromises. bonus points for best friend hoshi on this one &lt;;3

that's pretty much it for now! i'm so sorry if any of the authors mentioned didn't want to be tagged 🤒🤒 i just thought i'd share my thoughts abt ur work while sharing them w the rest of my followers UEUEUEUE

[writeshite]

Honeybee

Summary:

His face is scrunched in mild irritation as he drives to the farmer’s market; when he parks, he places his head against the steering wheel and groans. “I don’t see the point of coming all the way here when we can have this shit delivered to us,” he grumbles. “It’s not the same, dear,” you tell him, “coming here, we get fresh air, human contact, and the benefits of vitamin D.”

Pairings:

Ransom Drsydale x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Disabled!Reader - Reader Has Chronic Pain and Uses A Cane

Words: 1027

Author's Note:

In response to having read every ransom x male reader fic thrice, I will now be bombarding the tag with fics for him. Side note: if you want to learn how to write for disabled characters, I highly recommend checking out @cripplecharacters. And please, feel free to hound me if I get anything wrong.

Ransom’s not happy. 

He’s never been a fan of anything social, at least not without piles of money thrown in, but you'd asked and given him that look. The ‘please dear, for me,’ look. It's the look you gave him before you got him to do something he didn't want and try as he might - not that he did - Ransom could never deny his husband. 

His face is scrunched in mild irritation as he drives to the farmer’s market; when he parks, he places his head against the steering wheel and groans. “I don’t see the point of coming all the way here when we can have this shit delivered to us,” he grumbles.

“It’s not the same, dear,” you tell him, “coming here, we get fresh air, human contact, and the benefits of vitamin D.” He sticks his tongue out at you for the sarcastic quip, and you return the favor as well. 

You’re seated on the passenger side, legs outside and body half tucked away inside. Your cane is situated between your legs, and you watch Ransom take the shopping bags you'd brought, then your bag. He double-checks everything is in order, a habit you adore teasing him for; once he’s satisfied, he holds out his arm; you loop yours through it and make your way to the market’s wooden arch entrance. The wood twisted in its arched form, various patterns and shapes wound up towards the top - farmers market - the words carved more intricately than the rest of the structure.

An employee greets you by it, handing you a map of the establishment - the stalls are divided into various categories, all grouped away to avoid confusion; in between each category are resting areas, complete with benches, with the center of it all free of anything. You start at a honey stall; it’s a tad larger than most of the others and hosts its own beehive; your eyes brighten at the sight of it. Ransom sticks back - never a fan of bees - jars of honey line the expanse of the table, accompanied by cards hosting the worst bee-related puns Ransom has ever had to be subjected to. He picks one of the jars; the honey is a rich golden color and near see-through; even with the lid shut tight, the sweet smell permeates strongly.

Ransom makes a face of distaste, and you elbow him, “Don’t pretend; I know you pick honey from the jar when you think I’m not looking.” He scrunches his face, then picks another jar, a tad more pleased with its less sugary smell. The vendor offers samples, and you savor every drop, stealing some from Ransom’s share. You go with the dandelion and ​​mānuka honey, purchasing four jars of each; Ransom picks the next stall - produce - it’s longer than the previous and decked with far more content. 

Baskets of fruits and vegetables are set around it; some are stacked and arranged in groups, fruits on the left, vegetables on the right, and each group is subdivided into its own categories. An older woman is stationed there; she chops away at the produce, arranging it in various forms - animals, flowers, geometric patterns - she glances up and waves you over with a smile, “Welcome, welcome.” 

She puts her tools away, taking one of her masterpieces - a swan made of mango and apple slices - pushing it forward with disposable utensils. “Go on then, have a bite.” 

The apple skin still visible is red and drizzled in something sweet; when you bite into it, it’s crunchy, while the mango is soft. “Not bad,” Ransom mutters.

“You can just say it’s nice,” you tell him, and he shrugs. Despite his outward displeasure, Ransom enjoys the farmers market every week, it’s the same old song and dance of faux irritation, but you can see how it brightens his day to come down here. You pick another one, conversing with the vendor as Ransom goes about picking the produce; his resting face deters the other customers from getting first pick; some of them grumble but quickly shut up when they think he might have heard. You tug at Ransom’s arm, nudging your head to the side, “Come on, you gotta let other people have a turn,” you tease.

He throws in the last three mangoes with a cruel smirk, then steps aside to let other people through; you shake your head as he leads you away from the stall, the annoyed grumblings of your fellow customers behind you. You stop by one of the rest areas, correction - Ransom has you stop by one of the rest areas - the sun’s higher in the sky now, and you shrug off your, well, Ransom’s, cardigan and shove it into your bag. “Pain?”

You shake your head, “One, maybe two,” you rub your lower back, “but that’s cause these benches are so damn uncomfortable.” He chuckles at your little joke, fishing out a water bottle, “Thank you, dear.” You shake your head when he pulls out the painkillers, and after your break, you make your way to the meat vendors. 

You look to the other side of the field - the meat vendors have a much larger area than the others, much of it dedicated to refrigerators; they’re also quite busy when compared to the other stalls. Ransom really doesn’t look too happy with that, “We’ll order online,” he mutters, “No, not hearing it, you should come first anyway.”

“Hughie, the world doesn’t revolve around me,” you snark.

“My world does,” he says, taking the bottle from your hand. He slides the bag off, kneeling in front of you; he holds your leg tenderly, softly pushing his thumbs into the skin around your knee, then down your leg. When he gets to your foot, his touch becomes almost feathery as he massages your skin. It’s not the usual way he does it, more of a brief relief in case you're having any inflammations. 

You peck his forehead when he’s done, leaning forward with a gracious smile, “Thank you, Hughiebee.”

“That’s still the stupidest fucking nickname in the world,” he goes back to sit beside you. 

You grin, “Stupid nickname for my stupid husband.”

End Note:

He's my emotional support douche, and I love him, feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong. Stay Hydrated.

[aziraphales-library]

would you happen to have any good time loop fics? i read Wednesday and rlly enjoyed it and was hoping for more

Let's see...

Time Flies (When You're Having Fun) by Mussimm [E]

Versailles, 1769 - Aziraphale has a blessing to perform at a masquerade ball and it's important that he gets this one right. So important, in fact, that he can't seem to leave until he does.

But with a fancy dress, an attentive demon and an endless supply of champagne, it's a little challenging to stay on mission.

The Annual Tadfield Cheese-Rolling Festival by summerofspock [T]

Disgruntled newscaster Anthony Crowley is forced to cover the annual Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival...again. Only this year he's accompanied by a new producer who he can't seem to get his mind off of even though he's swiftly realizing he has far bigger problems. Namely, the fact that the Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival refuses to end.

Once More, with Pharaohs by Duinemerwen [M]

Egypt, 1337 B.C.: Aziraphale gets stuck reliving Tuesday afternoon over and over again. It wouldn't be so bad, if every afternoon didn't start mid-argument with a certain disagreeable demon. Or if cooperation with the aforementioned demon weren't Aziraphale's only chance at escaping the time loop...

Standalone, canon-compliant story featuring friendship and humour, with a side of angst, the smallest dash of romance, and a happy ending. Complete.

Wednesday by Raphaela_Crowley [T]

After a bizarre confrontation with Hastur and one really bad cup of tea, Crowley finds himself in an alternate universe wherein he's back to being the archangel Raphael, there's no Arrangement, and Aziraphale is actively trying to discorporate him.

The worst part?

Every time Aziraphale succeeds in offing him, and "Raphael" is returned to earth with a new body, the day resets. It's always the same doomed Wednesday, over and over and over again.

Getting into this time-loop was an accident; getting out and back home again (if Crowley ever manages it) will have to be something entirely else.

Here I Go Again [T] by Zeckarin

An old and powerful magical artifact. An angel. A demon.

What could possibly go wrong ?

Crowley gets himself caught in a time loop and keeps going back to Eden.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale is stuck with a 6 000 year younger version of Crowley, who knows nothing of their shared history.

~Mod N

And here are a couple of my favourites...

Time After Time by iamtheenemy (M)

“Ha!” Crowley said, pointing one of those long index fingers in Aziraphale’s face. “That wasn’t yesterday! That was Monday!”

It's the day after Crowley and Aziraphale thwarted their respective home offices and saved the world - and it keeps being that day again and again and again.

It’s Funny Because Nobody Ever Says “Burkina Faso” by indieninja92 (G)

Aziraphale gets stuck in a time loop. The first Crowley knows about it is when the angel shows up at his flat one morning armed with knowledge he could only possibly have got from Crowley's previous self...

- Mod D

[ranboo5]

Excuse me if I may ask, what's the premise of DHAU? It sounds interesting

So Dead Hand AU is a canon divergence based on deeply haunting comments, the plotline with the missing nuke as presented in canon, and Ranboo being Like That (it predates ccTubbo explaining the scrapped plot but when that information dropped it was also incorporated into The Torment Nexus)

The pt of divergence is that Tubbo gets unrefutable evidence of some kind that Ranboo set off the prison TNT and is in fact working with the guy who tormented and murdered Tubbo's best friend. This causes Tbbo to have the same giving out process as he does in outpost arc, but a) worse, and b) accepting the inevitable reality of the guy who simply has the power to be on the right side of history as, ultimately, Dream. Dream is fine with this because the idea of nuclear deterrent is something he's right on board with, and Tubbo is too controllable to be a liability. Ranboo is not fine with this for several reasons, but no one's asking them

Anyway Dream and Tbbo echo chamber a vision of the world set right, which in itself would be a bad enough thing for Ranboo, but Ranboo also a) has to fully rewire their compartmentalization regarding Dream + Tbbo (two people whose respective files he had kept FAR apart), b) still actually does care somewhat about his husband and their friend, c) is not getting off that easy, because both Tbbo and Dream now know much, much more about it than it ever wanted either to have access to, especially Tubbo, and d) is being treated in accordance with this Escalated Threat Level as a liar and a weasel . So Ranboo's trapped in here with them. Tubbo has accepted he's trapped in here with Ranboo and Dream. Dream thinks they're trapped in here with him, and is about to get his shit rocked because he is in fact trapped in here with a rapidly deteriorating relationship, semi-unwittingly abetting a feedback loop of escalation based around the fact that 1) Ranboo's word means fucking nothing and he has to be cornered and afraid to be even a little mitigated and 2) Ranboo is at its absolute worst and most duplicitous when cornered and desperate, and by god, do the parties involved in that relationship have a bomb.

Also Techno is there receiving increasingly concerning vague phone calls he doesn't know how to deal with because of his own "well surely I can fix this on my own and don't have to endanger other people COPIUM" tendencies aggravated by the fact that Phil is dealing with crimeboys drama off screen

[tyonfs]

game on.

❝ you play your games, and i’ll play mine. ❞

PAIRING ▸ liu yangyang x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, friends to lovers, some fluff and crack

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, hendery being oblivious as fuck, dirty talk, smut, oral sex, some aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ the lines have always been blurred between you and yangyang. you, fed up with your best friend being an absolute boy and gaming away his problems, decided to take matters into your own hands.

WORD COUNT ▸ 3238 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello! i impulsively wrote this so consider this my contribution for yangyang day ♡ i hope you guys enjoy !!

YOU WERE PISSED.

It wasn’t like you were expecting much. You just wanted to spend the evening with your best friend on the one day you both had time to hang out, but he clearly had other plans. YangYang had been playing video games all day while you were just sitting on his bed and watching him like an idiot. You rolled your eyes, going through your phone for about the umpteenth time as you listened to him yell commands at Hendery.

“Go mid, go mid!” he shouted into his mic, furiously clicking his mouse and tapping keys in tune with his command.

You finally gave up and walked over to him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. “YangYang,” you called with a frown. “We were supposed to watch a movie tonight.”

YangYang, startled, took off his headphones for a moment to peer up at you. “What did you say? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

You despised the gentleness of his tone. YangYang was definitely sweet by nature and had good intentions (save for his wild streak), but sometimes he was simply insensitive and ignorant of his actions. You wondered if he knew how annoying it was for you to have to sit on his bed for over an hour just to be ignored. It didn’t exactly help that you had the biggest crush on him and overanalyzed every single word and action.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Fine, YangYang. Keep playing your silly game,” you snapped and went back to his bed with a scowl. “I’ll just sit here and do nothing.”

YangYang seemed to realize that he had been neglecting you, so he mumbled a curt apology to Hendery into his mic and paused his game. It sounded as if Hendery was whining, but YangYang turned off his mic and put his headset down. He got up and walked over to you, sitting at the edge of his bed where you were curled up.

He raised a brow at you. “Happy?”

That tone of his just pissed you off even more.

“You can go back to playing your game if that’s what you want,” you mumbled, clearly jealous that he was prioritizing his game over you.

“I want to spend time with you.” YangYang slid his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for gaming while you were over.”

You let yourself be vulnerable and crumble for a moment, but then you ducked your head so he couldn’t see, mumbling, “I’ve been waiting here like an idiot.”

“Hug?” he offered, hoping it would make up for his wrongdoings.

You pursed your lips. You refused to give in so easily, especially when it came to Liu YangYang. He had a knack for getting what he wanted with a simple flash of that dazzling grin. In short, you were tired of having to wait for him.

You weren’t sure if that meant wait for him to hang out with you or notice your feelings for him, but both answers seemed to align well.

The lines had always been blurred between you two. It had gotten to the point where even his friends didn’t believe him when he would say he wasn’t dating you. Maybe what gave it away was the way you both would hug for a little too long, or the lingering stares, or maybe even the way he’d hold your hand when he didn’t have to.

However, whenever the topic of dating arose, you’d either shy away from the conversation or change the topic quickly.

“No.” You stood up, dragging him up by the arm and over to his gaming setup. You sat him down in his chair and slung a leg around his thigh, sliding onto his lap. “You keep playing.”

YangYang seemed to stiffen up as you straddled him, tucking your head into his shoulder. He kept you close to him, though, and placed a hesitant hand on the small of your back. You could hear him swallow thickly as he put his headphones back on and rejoined his game. He didn’t question your command, but you could tell he was much more jittery.

You turned your head a little. You could see the blush on his face and the tension in his jaw.

You scooted up further into his lap, noting how he froze as you did. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and although the two of you were practically cuddling, it felt odd with Hendery’s voice coming from YangYang’s headphones.

“Dude, where were you?” Hendery asked. “The enemy team nearly got your turret.”

“Sorry about that,” YangYang apologized, looking like a bundle of nerves, which was something you hadn’t seen before. You shifted slightly and YangYang quickly turned off his mic before cursing under his breath. “D-don’t do that.”

You stilled. YangYang just stammered, and you swore you could hear his breath hitch. A devious part of you wanted to take this further and see where it would go.

“Don’t do what?” you asked innocently, adjusting your position subtly.

There it was.

YangYang’s hard-on pressing into your thigh. The bulge from his grey sweatpants was so obvious, and it sent butterflies to your stomach. You couldn’t stop yourself from exhaling sharply into YangYang’s neck, making his erection grow and your head spin.

“That,” he grunted out, hand coming back from the keyboard to hold your lower back again.

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you observed, biting your lip as you felt him twitch under you.

Your best friend clearly didn’t want to push you, but he was enticed, and it made your heart race. “You mean… you want to?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah,” you said, hiding your face so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. This was all you’ve ever wanted, of course, but you still wanted pay-back for being neglected. “Keep playing your game.”

YangYang continued playing, although you noticed the slight shift. There was a tremor in his hands and he was very unsure about his hand placement every time he came back to hold your back. Although, you underestimated his confidence because when you were least expecting it, he bucked his hips up against yours.

You bit back a mewl, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly as his movements became repetitive. You weren’t looking at him but you knew YangYang was smug, trying to get a response out of you. You arched your hips off of his lap and he grabbed your waist, pushing you back down, right onto his rock-hard boner.

YangYang bit your earlobe as his hot breath fanned the side of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, but it was impossible when he was rolling hips up against yours. You could almost picture the smirk on his face.

You whimpered out softly, dangerously close to his mic. Initially, you didn’t mind, only thinking about his reaction to your sounds, until you realized the worst had happened. Fear shot down your spine as you straightened up quickly.

His mic was on.

“What was that?” you heard Hendery ask.

“Louis,” YangYang replied smoothly.

“Louis? He’s at my place.”

“Um…” YangYang trailed off. “Anyways, let’s push bot since we’re at their base.” He turned off his mic again and pulled you back to him, nibbling at the base of your neck. “Panties off,” he murmured, sliding his sweats and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

YangYang had, once again, gotten his way.

Your breath hitched at the sight of his throbbing cock. Desire coiled in your gut, making your entire body flush. You got off of his lap to do as he said, looping your fingers in your belt loops to tease your shorts down.

YangYang did a double take, finding it hard to focus on the game and on you at the same time. His eyes briefly met yours before they trained on your lower body, lust clouding them. Before you could take off your panties, however, YangYang was slain in the game, and had to turn on his mic as Hendery started complaining.

“That jungler is a pain in the ass!” Hendery whined. “But, dude, you’ve only got five kills so far. You good?”

“Yeah, um, I’m not doing so hot this game,” YangYang replied, shooting you a glance and leaning back in his chair as he waited out the cooldown. “The heat’s getting to me, I guess.”

“YangYang, it’s winter,” Hendery replied. YangYang closed his eyes for a moment, opening his mouth to retort, but Hendery continued, “Shit, okay, come mid with me.”

YangYang hummed in agreement and turned his mic off, a darker look in his eyes when he turned to you. “Suck me off, baby,” he said in a low voice, adding, “please.”

“But we were supposed to—”

You stopped yourself as a flush of heat crept up your neck. YangYang looked amused as you bit your lip and got to your knees, crawling toward him so that you were between his legs. When you looked up at him, he looked as if he was at his limit.

YangYang ran his thumb along your lower lip, hand cradling your chin. “I’ll make you feel good after this game, baby,” he reassured.

You nodded, pouting at how flustered he was making you feel. Getting distracted again, YangYang moved his attention to his game again, tapping keys repeatedly. You narrowed your eyes, displeased at the lack of attention.

You play your games, and I’ll play mine, you thought bitterly.

This was an unpredictable jump in your relationship with him, and you were just realizing it as you took ahold of his cock, loving how it twitched in your grip. Your lips grazed the soft skin, causing him to hiss through his teeth, squirming a bit in his seat.

YangYang’s breathing was growing ragged and uneven.

You closed your eyes and took the head of his cock into your mouth, hesitating before sucking lightly on it. You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled at how a vein appeared on his neck. YangYang unmuted his mic to reply to Hendery’s commands, removing his hand from the keyboard to grab your hair in a fistful and push you down on his cock.

A loud whimper escaped you as the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Finding a balance between teasing and careful, you bobbed your head, relishing how the thick veins along his length pulsated against your tongue. YangYang had to mute again, letting out a low and guttural groan when you started building up a faster rhythm.

He died again in the game.

Loser, you thought childishly.

But now, YangYang could focus on you while he was on cooldown. He tugged at your hair, whining when you pulled off of him. You met his eyes and lapped at his slit that was leaking with precum. YangYang’s eyes darkened and he thrusted back into your mouth, making you whimper as you suddenly took him in your throat. You moaned against his cock and let him fuck your throat, digging your nails into his thighs.

You were startled when he seized up, grunting as his hot seed shot down your throat. You swallowed it and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with a proud glint dancing in your eyes.

YangYang let out a pleased little sigh. “Sit on my lap, baby.”

His cooldown was over.

You got up from your spot on the floor and straddled his lap again, but YangYang was wrecked. He saw your eager expression and chuckled, bemused. He unmuted his mic to speak to Hendery but let his fingers dip into your panties, rubbing his slender fingers against your clit in slow circles.

“P-please,” you breathed out, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage.

“Patience, baby,” YangYang cooed in your ear.

“What did you just call me?” Hendery’s dumbfounded voice resounded from the speakers. “Did you say baby?”

“You’re hearing things,” YangYang brushed off while you wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Yo, we did it!” Hendery cheered a minute later while YangYang was still working on your clit. The words victory flashed across the screen in bright blue. “Dude, you wanna play TFT to celebrate?”

“Yeah, no,” YangYang said bluntly, ending the call and tossing his headphones onto his desk so he could turn his attention to you. He ghosted his hands along your sides. “I have my prize right here.”

“YangYang,” you whined out since he left your clit alone before you could finish.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” he mumbled, kissing down the column of your neck. “Let me make it up to you.”

YangYang rubbed your hips in slow circles before removing your shirt carefully, examining your body with hungry eyes. He leaned forward to press kisses from your stomach to your chest, making your heart thunder in your chest. When he reached your chest, his hands slid to the back to unhook your bra. With an easy snap, he unhooked the undergarment and slid the straps down, biting his lip at the sight of you in full glory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, peppering kisses around your nipple and then sucking lightly on the bud.

“YangYang,” you cried out softly.

Your best friend broke away for a moment to open his drawer behind you pulling out a little silver packet. You watched him tear it open and slide the latex around his throbbing cock. How he managed to get it up again was beyond your understanding. After all, horny boys will be horny boys.

He leaned back in his seat, smirking up at you. “Go ahead, baby, fuck yourself on my cock,” he instructed, grabbing his shirt by the nape so he could slide it off, revealing his v-cut abs.

You swallowed hard.

First of all, YangYang was absolutely hung.

Second of all, you had no experience in this field of sexual activity. This was feeling more like paranormal activity because you had no idea how his massive cock was going to fit inside you without rearranging your guts.

“But you’re so… big,” you whispered, looking at his length as he gave it a few pumps.

A soft look crossed YangYang’s face. He picked you up easily, hands gripping your thighs as he laid you on his bed. There was so much care and softness to his touch as he got over you and lined himself with your entrance. The way he looked down at you was full of pure adoration and it made your breath get caught in your throat.

“Ready?” he asked, moving your hair out of your face.

You bit your lip and nodded, bracing yourself by holding onto his shoulders.

You thought he would start, but to your surprise, he pressed his lips to yours, one hand gently cupping your face. You kissed him back fervently, wrapping your arms around his neck. Lost in the taste of his lips, YangYang slowly pushed himself into you, a strangled groan tearing past his lips at how tight you were. You broke from the kiss to tuck your face into his shoulder, crying out as you were stuck in the crossroads of pain and pleasure.

YangYang’s grip on your waist tightened. “Fuck, babygirl.”

“You’re so big,” you replied with a pleased sigh, your hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl into his hair. Your hips shifted a little as your walls adjusted around him.

“Damn right I am,” YangYang replied smugly, starting to thrust in you at a leisurely pace. He slid a hand into your hair and groaned as your walls squeezed around him. “God, your cunt’s so fucking tight.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, flustered by his comment. A moan escaped your lips when he hit a certain spot in you that set you on fire. “R-right there!”

“Nice and vocal,” he cooed, slowing down his pace in favor of deeper thrusts, “just how I like it.” A groan tore past his lips as he fucked you into the mattress. “I want to feel this,” he growled. “I want to feel you.”

Waves of pleasure hit you with each thrust, overwhelming you to the point of tears streaming down your face. He was so big and you could feel him in your lower abdomen, but the pain eased away and you could only feel yourself on the edge of euphoria.

“Shit, YangYang, it feels so good,” you mewled out weakly. “H-harder.”

YangYang grabbed ahold of your legs and moved them over his shoulders while he pinned your hips down. He let out a shaky breath and slammed into you harder, making sure to linger whenever he went as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess by now, holding onto him for dear life as he pounded inside of you.

You were already so close, pre-stimulated from him fingering your clit earlier, and his powerful thrusts were making you lose your grip.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You nodded weakly, meeting his intense gaze. “I think I’m close,” you told him in a breath.

“Cum for me, angel,” YangYang urged, moving his hand down to rub your clit again as he quickened his pace. “I want to hear you say my name. Who’s making you cum?”

“Y-you, YangYang,” you sobbed, digging your nails into his back. “F-fuck—”

You couldn’t even finish what you were saying, nor did you remember what you were going to say because you fell off the edge first. You broke apart in front of him, crying out in pure bliss as you released against his cock. The pleasure in your gut that was building up had now flooded your body, but YangYang still fucked you through your orgasm until he, too, fell apart.

Sweat beaded your flushed skin, but you only noticed it when YangYang’s forehead was against yours, his breathing slow and heavy. He pulled out of you, using up the little energy he had to toss the used condom in the trash before he trudged back to his bed. He got in next to you and pulled you to his body, enveloping you into his warmth.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he mumbled against your skin.

You were still catching your breath, still winded from your orgasm. Now, YangYang was so tender, so gentle, that you were at a loss for words. It was almost laughable compared to the filthy words that were coming from his mouth early.

You cuddled close to him, wrapping a leg around his hip. “Don’t be,” you said with a smile. “It felt really good.”

YangYang grinned and kissed your forehead, your cheeks, then pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You scrunched up your nose at the contact but he just kissed all over your face.

“I’m glad you felt the same way,” he murmured. “I was starting to get scared that we would just have perpetual tension between us forever.”

“Of course not,” you said with a laugh. “Xiaojun would’ve beat you up if you kept denying anything between us.”

“Well, now I can stop denying it, at least,” he mused, holding up your hand to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

“I still can’t believe we did that.”

“I mean,” YangYang started, plastering an easy smile on his face, “I’m always good to go again.”

Needless to say, you ended up taking him up on that offer for a few more rounds.

[nicoforlifetrue]

I think I've seen this film before (and I liked the ending)

He remembers when he was taken.

He remembers fighting and flailing and trying desperately to get back to his friends, to get away because he didn't know what was happening.

He remembers the faint tap of something to his side and the visions of his worst nightmares that forced him to be quiet.

He remembers kneeling and listening to words, being told that he had the privilege of being a watcher, being told his new name.

He remembers the urge to scream and fight, wanting to lash out, but being too terrified to do anything.

He remembers watching as a thick fluid was forced down his throat and thinking he was choking.

He remembers being watched by two beings as the pain started; pain was an old friend to him, but this, this feeling was brand new, and he didn't know if he would survive it as he felt the familiar heat of cut muscle start to rise…

…But he remembers one stepped forward.

One with soft blond hair that peeked out from the hood, who carefully held his head in their lap and ran fingers through his hair and rubbed between his shoulder blades— silent unlike the other two, silent but so viscerally there, their warmth clashing against the cold of the room as his back lit up with fire.

He remembers the two leaving just as two lines of lava erupted deep in his spine, he remembers the one holding him, running a thumb along the side of the lines and gently pushing in; he remembers that made the pain just a little bit lighter, just a little bit less breaking.

He remembers as the lines started to push, forcing their way to the surface of his skin, and he remembers how he’d started screaming as the inside of his back tore and he slammed his eyes shut.

He remembers the soft press of fingers on his back alleviating the pain the smallest fraction— he remembers the force moving the feeling to go faster— he remembers his head laying on a chest, listening to a soft steady heart and long deep breaths that he found himself mimicking, the two hands carefully massaged his back.

He remembers the sound of his own back tearing open as a new sensation flooded his mind, new limbs he didn't know how to work dripping blood and gore onto the floor.

He remembers the pain of new nerves and bones exposed to the cold air, he remembers the only thing grounding him being the heart beat and those hands moving from his back to his hair, carding through it as the pain slowly faded to a dull, unpleasant throb.

He remembers shakily joking that at least the worst was done with; he remembers them not answering, simply gripping him tighter.

A silent warning that he recognized.

‘It's not over yet.’

The next burn was one he had a few vital seconds to prepare for, not screaming that time as his gut suddenly felt like it was being rearranged, instead biteng into his lip so hard it bled as he tried to focus on the heartbeat in his ears instead of the sounds of something in his body moving, tried to fixate on the hands in his hair instead of the shifting in his gut.

When the pain faded after what felt like hours— when he felt himself lifted yet kept close to this person's chest, the steady, calm heartbeat grounding him from the lingering soreness and the burn in his back— he wanted to ask again, ask the one that had stayed if they were done with him.

They didn't answer.

Instead they honored him by washing his back of his own blood and gore, gentle hands stitching the gashes in his back closed.

“So you're like the medic of this little operation then?” he had asked. “You're required to patch me up before forcing me through another round of torment.”

He remembers watching the person freeze, clearly handmade bandages half wrapped around Grian’s torso, the mask hiding their eyes but the faintest flick of a frown flashing across their lips for a split second.

And he remembers them shaking their head twice, answering both his questions silently.

He remembers them carrying him around for a while, until the last pangs had stopped.

He remembers them re-teaching him how to walk with the new appendages on his back.

He remembers them showing him how to preen, letting Grian stumble and pull on their feathers before he tried to do it on his own.

He remembers them shoving him off the side of a building into the void, his terror for those few vital moments as he froze, how they had grabbed him before the void had swallowed him. He had asked why and they’d said nothing, just pushed him again— and this time he had understood as instead of freezing in fear (they would catch him, he knew that now) he started to struggle in the air as his wings moved on their own.

He thinks there was pride in that blank expression when he shot up with fluttering wings.

He would mutter under his breath around them, about how something was unfair, morally wrong, how something was right. They wouldn't do anything, but he thinks at times they nodded— a small, barely noticeable nod.

They would correct him gently, and after he had flinched away from their hands during the first staff training they shifted him with the stick; kind, careful, aware, as if they knew.

He didn't trust them, and at times he found himself hating them.

Until they weren't there.

“Aeipra will be unable to train you for a short while,” a higher up informed him, his mentor at their side. “Lerva will fill in until they return, understood?”

Lerva was high up enough in the chain to speak.

Lerva followed the rules, apparently.

The staff caused nightmares— awful, horrid nightmares meant to break the soul… his mentor never used their staff on him.

They apparently were meant to.

He’d felt like he was breaking quite quickly, this new mentor was downright cruel.

Where his would silently encourage questions, was invested in Grian’s opinions for all their apathy, this one seemed set on getting rid of them, and any sort of sound would receive him his worst memories on loop.

Where his mentor was kind in their corrections, gentle and carefu,. this one was cruel, any mistake receiving punishment.

Where his mentor for their silence was warm and understanding, this one in their words berated him and tore him down.

“Have they not trained you at all?” the new one would spit, “or are you just defiant, hm?”

There was a hidden threat there, one he caught onto quite quickly. He was given leniency for being so young, his mentor's gentleness would be treated far more harshly.

When they returned, their gentle and large wings stretching to shadow him, he didn't scoff for once; after all, how much had his mentor risked for Grian’s own comfort?

“You hate me,” were the first words his mentor ever spoke to him, the words raspy from disuse, the tone willfully blank.

‘I hate what you are’ he found himself thinking in his shock. “I don’t,” he had said instead.

After that, words— though far and few between— came despite the clear breaking of rules… and he learned things.

He learned that the other liked to fly, not for speed but freedom; he learned the smallest changes in their tone and the slightest change in their wings.

They became a figure he never really had in his life.

A parent of sorts.

They shared his own joy of chaos, that joy slipping through painstakingly-crafted walls at times, teaching him small tricks that could never be traced back to them that would cause the smallest ripples in the still pond around them.

They shared his joy of flight, showing him tricks and dives, teaching him how to adapt those tricks from his mentor's large swooping wings for his own smaller fluttering ones, a glider vs a sprinter they had whispered to him when he asked.

They shared his joy of building, playing elaborate games easily disguised as training of tricks and perspective, learning new items and fun ways to use them.

They understood his want for life, to live and enjoy and steal away little moments of heaven for himself.

They knew him better than anyone else, despite not knowing a lick of his story.

Seeing them go back was what hurt.

On that one time, because night and day were nothing it was always just time, as they hurried him awake— saying nothing as they grabbed him and tugged him along— twisting through corridors and shoving him through a sputtering portal.

It was a blur after that, of flying and twisting and portal nausea.

And when they finally stopped, as they gave him that soft smile, the one of reassurance and safety, his heart dropped.

“No no no come on no stay please—” he knows he's begging as he grips onto their robe. “We’re out- stay- please, they'll kill you if you go back, please—” because his mentor could be killed, his mentor wasn't immortal like he was.

With soft hands (too soft, artificially soft, meant to be covered in calluses and stained with soot) they take the hand clinging to them, rubbing soft circles in it as they smile.

“Goodbye my child,” they whisper to him as they drop his hand and spread their wings.

And he can't follow, he can't chase after the only parental figure he ever had, because he has to hide, he's free and they are not. He can’t follow because then, what would their life have been worth?

So he hides.

----

:D