#//I need this man to LOOK like he’s seen battle and WON. if he has the goofiest smile and laugh; I will died happy

[dutybcrne]

I continue to have SO many Thinkings abt Gallagher Star Rail, but putting the sin aside, I unfortunately now have High Expectations of what Varka is gonna look like

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

A brief thought on the parallels of the Subway Bosses, The Tao Trio, and Warden Ingo's place

@waywardstation just made an amazing post on her thoughts of Warden Ingo's parallels to Kyurem. Nothing in the game directly connects the two, just like nothing in the game connects the Subway Bosses to the Dragons in Generation V. But the connections are still there regardless, because Game Freak made sure to fill Unova with so much symbolism.

These are the basic thoughts that connect each Man to their Dragon.

Subway Boss Ingo - Ideals; Aspire to greatness, never give up in your journey

Subway Boss Emmet - Truth; You are who you are, there is no need for a mask

Warden Ingo - Void; What is there when you lose who you are? No drive for greatness, nothing to mask. Ideals, Truths, nothing matters except the ground beneath your feet.

In each game that they appear, Ingo and Emmet are relatively flat characters. In Gen 5, they have enough personality to stick in your mind, and nothing past. And in PLA, Ingo's whole personality is "I lost my memory and am depressed, but have hope". Instead, we end up looking at word choice, and in the Subway Bosses cases, other media.

Subway Boss Ingo, across most media, embodies Ideals. He has his eyes to the future, always pushing himself and others to continue onwards. He frames battling and training as a journey ("What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? Where is my destination?"; "Your talent has brought you to the destination called Victory!"; "There is no terminal called End in your life!"), most often when he is victorious. He seeks to create his Ideal self, and wants to push others to do the same.

This comes up in Pokemon Masters EX as well, where the "no terminal" line returns (in an appropriately spooky tone), he also spends time in the Day With Ingo story event talking about how he seeks to better himself and "break through the mold of [his] past self". This event is also the first time he mentions the phrase "greater heights", which appears another 6 times in various snippets in Masters. And finally, we have a triple whammy of travel metaphors for growth in his level up lines.

For Subway Boss Emmet, his connection to Truth is admittedly a bit more tenuous. He doesn't have any tendency for truth-seeking or investigations (outside of the famous behavior in the manga where he likes to eavesdrop on drama, which gossip isn't exactly truthful), but what he has is a strong showing of being truthful, even if he ends up being blunt or disrespectful.

As a consequence of his writing in Japanese giving him a very casual way of speaking, the English translation has him speak in shorter clips, just the bare essentials. The naked truths of his thoughts. He doesn't seek the Truth, or give a Universal Truth; Emmet is True to himself and to those around him. (As a side note, I love when people give power to other usages of the word True through Reshiram. I did it in my fic with a turn of phrase, but I've seen it done beautifully in other works too).

In Pokemon Special, Emmet doesn't hide the truth of why they asked White to train on the Battle Subway ("We're studying you as an example of a Trainer who gets overwhelmed and loses every battle!" "That's not nice, Emmet."), not because he is intending to be rude (Ok, a little bit), but because that *is* what they are using her for. In the games, he speaks of how Pokemon battles can be decided on luck ("I won against you. But I think I just got lucky."), because the Truth of the matter is, you can be highly trained and just have a bad day or get hit by a critical hit. But, most importantly, he believes that battles must be serious for them to be fun. Because what fun is there in putting up a fake fight, when you could just be True to yourself?

Now, to speak on the connection of Warden Ingo to Kyurem, we must first understand what Kyurem is to Zekrom and Reshiram. On a surface level, it is a Husk, a leftover revenant that can be reassembled into a simulacrum of the Original being. But looking into the actual symbolism of them all is where you find threads of connection to the Warden.

Reshiram, the Dragon of Yin, is representative of a more static element, receptive of change but passive in how it does so. It is a recursive existence that reaches out and pulls back towards itself - Everyone has an individual Truth, but that is still able to be changed by The Truth. However, one does not go out and change The Truth, only altering the perception of it while it passively exists. You cannot change what is already there, only create something new. In comparison, Emmet is never really shown to focus on the future, but rather on the present. He knows of the Truth in his life, and while it can be changed by present actions, he knows that he cannot go back to change it, so there is no need to try, or to hide it.

Zekrom, the Dragon of Yang, is active, ever expanding, and pushes up against those around it in it's search for Ideals. Ideals cause you to seek out a goal, to leave your home, your comfort zone, and push away from the past. To represent Ideals is to be in constant flux; Settling into a form makes you into a Truth, as an Ideal is a goal, something attainable, yet unreachable. We've gone over Ingo's future-forward gaze, constantly thinking about what is to come. Life is a journey, and every step you take in life is a step to self-improvement.

Kyurem is a Husk, a Shell. According to Bulbapedia, it is representative of Wuji ("Without a roof"), the absense of Yin and Yang, or "The Ultimate Nothingness". For this reason, I personally also attribute to it Mu, a concept of non-existence and negative space, specifically the lack of something normally there (modern Japanese actually uses "mu-" as a prefix the same way English has the suffix "-less"). Interestingly, the Japanese transliteration of Wuji is "Mukyoku" (lit. Non-polar, another translation of Wuji), connecting the two concepts neatly. In short, Kyurem represents Nothing and Everything.

Kyurem was supposedly the Original Dragon, the deity of Unova that represented Truths and Ideals in unison, a embodiment of Yin and Yang's harmony. In a sense, the Original Dragon was an embodiment of Everything, Unova's spirit of unity. Then, with the war between the Twin Princes (another pair also frequently compared to Ingo and Emmet, in case you think I forgot my boys), it was split into 2, but secretly 3, parts. This third secret part became Kyurem, a being lacking in its original qualities, leaving Nothing but the Husk.

Now, finally, we can get to everyone's favorite uncle, Warden Ingo. His connection to Kyurem is probably the least intentional of them all (which is saying something, because I'm honestly convinced that the Subway Bosses' own connections aren't intentional, but rather just a result of how Unova games were written with Truth vs. Ideal being ingrained heavily), but there still is one. As Wayward says in her fateful post, "Warden Ingo is an empty husk of who he once was ever since he was separated from his life, and from Emmet." Ingo as the Subway Boss may not have embodies the Everything that the Original Dragon has, but pairing with Emmet so closely still meant that Truth and Ideals mixed so cleanly that it might as well have been Everything.

However, the most important connection for Warden Ingo are the concepts of Wuji and Mu. To be "the Ultimate Nothingness" or "Non-Polar" means to be devoid of Everything, yet still have the capability to be far more than Nothing. The singular concept of Mu may mean that Warden Ingo is missing who he is and was, but that is not who we grow know in the game; We connect with a man who is slowly piecing together his sense of self, remembering facets of his past and growing happier with who he can be. Thus, the Mu transitions into Wuji, a void that isn't Empty so much as lacking.

The importance of distinction is that Mu is by nature Empty, while Wuji is Empty and Everything, limitless and confined. Similarly, Ingo is devoid of what made him him (His drive for self-improvement is impaired, even while he pushes the player to climb to greater heights), but becomes something new in the meta-narrative of the story. His actual, plot-related story ends when you quell Electrode and he becomes a challengeable NPC at the Training Grounds, but he becomes something of a kindred spirit in the greater plot of the game. He's like you, a Faller who has lost themselves, and also like you, an avid battler who pushes the system to it's limits (especially in the Path of Solitude).

In short, the connection between Kyurem and Warden Ingo isn't anything in the text, as Kyurem has no explicit in-game theming attached to it like Zekrom and Reshiram, and Warden Ingo doesn't have strong philosophical points that seeps out of the words he says to you. But when you look at the meta-theming for Kyurem, and subsequently Warden Ingo's meta-narrative, the connections become clearer.

Does some of this make no sense? Of course! A lot of this is extrapolating what was said in Wayward's post, and what came from my head as I thought of it. A lot of the connections of the twins to the Dragons has been discussed since 2010, but for all intents and purposes, Warden Ingo is a different character from Subway Boss Ingo. Narratively, he is the same person, hence why his appearance is a tragedy in Legends Arceus, one which we never get to solve. But on a meta level, he functions so differently, and lives so differently, that the themes he inhabits do not match up to the Subway Boss in any way. To end this on a sad note, Warden Ingo is exactly like Kyurem - Broken. He has lost what made him whole, and we've been shown that just reinserting Ideals isn't enough. Hopefully, if Game Freak decides to touch upon the Warden once more, we can find a way to reinsert his Truths as well.

[psycheetamore]

Sharing his most precious darling

Summary: Feyd's trainer saves his life in battle, allowing him to request everything from the young lord. He requests you, the favourite concubine of the na-Baron himself. After a brawl, his fighter gets you for a night. Despite Feyd's acceptance of this settlement, he seeks to overturn it, only to be convinced by you to join both of you, rather than fight. 

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha is his own warning, smut, threesome (MFM), p's in everywhere, dp, dub-con, humiliation / exhibition kinks

Motive: it is the last day of October kinktober, so the last day I can create something like this with no excuse needed. The one thing I was struggling for a while to connect was Feyd-Rautha and a MFM threesome. Because, would he ever share? Well... I am happy to announce I have finally found a plausible justification. Here you go my darlings.  

A couple of firsts for me here: written from the ‘you-perspective’ (let me know if you prefer this or not). I woke up early and started thinking about this, so it came quite quickly on paper (or in other words: higher risks of typo's - post publishing to be removed) and needed to post this while it was still kinktober ;-). As a result: a very quick burn (for my writing standards that is). 

Word count: 4k 

+++

Every time he went out for battle in Arrakis, you were fearful. You knew he was one of the best trained warriors in the universe, but still, your na-Baron was human. He could be overcome in just a blink of an eye. A small tiny distraction could cost him everything. So, each morning that he lingered for too long in your warm bed, you forced him out to meet his battle trainer for lessons. Sometimes, you would watch from the shadows, see how this man would try his best to best your man. And every now and then, it would succeed. 

His trainer was not a Giedi Prime or Arrakis native, but was a person once enslaved from Caladan. Twice the age of the na-Baron he was freed to rise in the Harkonnen ranks. A sun kissed skin, light brown hair and green eyes: quite the opposite of your Feyd. Years in battle had strengthened his body and roughened his face, but had never managed to remove the boyish twinkle in his eyes and lips that escaped every time he saw you. It was electrifying, and he knew this was a sure way to get you to escape from the shadows back into the safety of the palace. 

You were already lying in bed, when you heard the horns bellow to alert the inhabitants of the Arrakeen palace of yet another fight won. He may come to visit you this evening, or he may visit one of his other concubines or pets. This did no longer upset you, knowing he was safe again. 

As you tried to fall asleep, the door opened softly. Footsteps neared your bed, and you heard him crouch next to your head: “my darling” as the na-Baron pet your head. You opened your eyes, holding back tears, which he must have seen, as you interrupted him: “I am so relieved you are back again, in one piece.” Typically, he would chuckle, and tell you he would never be harmed as he is the best skilled warrior with the fiercest army. But this response did not leave his mouth. He merely responded: “thanks to my trainer. He saved me.”  

Your eyes opened further while you felt your heart drop. This would not be the last shock you would hear, as he continued: “it is our custom that if you save your lord, you can ask everything your heart desires. Everything. And I cannot refuse, unless I want to fight a last battle to the death with that person.” You responded: “I am so happy he was with you. You should give him everything he asks. He has trained you to be the fighter you are. He deserves it.”  

Feyd responded: “He requested you.” Your mouth fell open. It was only now that you saw he had a black eye and scratches on his face. “I refused him, because you are my favourite. I have seen how he looks at you, and I have tolerated that for too long.” You gasped. If your man would fight this Caladan warrior, there was no saying how this may end up. “He told me that you are not immune to the looks he gives you.” He softly grabbed your chin as he forced you to look at him: “is that true, my darling?” You swallowed and were happy the lights were very dim as your blushing would have given you away immediately. You decided to take a more politically sensitive route, the avenue of submission, which always worked with the na-Baron: “Whatever you request of me, I will not decline my lord.” He knew you long enough to be able to answer with a low voice, laced with disappointment: “so he was right. Well, I told him I would need to kill him if he wanted to have you as his own pet. So, after a small discussion, we settled that he would get you for one night.” You looked at Feyd-Rautha with near contempt in your eyes. Did he beat your lord? But there was no time to think about that, as he continued while standing up: “this should make this a pleasurable evening for you.” He growled disgruntledly as he closed the door: “he will be here in 5 minutes. Make sure to not disappoint me." 

It was a mystery what he meant with not disappointing him. Should you either be as coy as possible with the man who saved his life, should you prevent getting any pleasure from this, or should you treat him as you would treat your concubinator? But there was no time to think about this, as you were given a mere five minutes to prepare. To remove your nightgown, to put on something with more substance, and to digest what had just happened. You were filled with conflicting feelings. Relieve as the young lord survived, fear that it came so close that he needed to be saved, anxiousness that he seemed to have uncovered the eyes you had placed on his trainer, and pure excitement you did not want to acknowledge of what was to come this night. 

You had just finished to tidy up your hair as the door flung open. Still in his fighting clothes, less the armour, he stepped in your room. As he walked towards you, you gasped and froze. The metallic smell of blood hit your nose, while you saw him looming up. His beige shirt dirtied with what used to be the lifelines of Fremen warriors, unbuttoned to his solar plexus, showing some of the curves of his chest, graced by hair. The sleeves rolled up showing his toned arms. Legs covered in black pants and boots.  

He could not have been more different than Feyd, and yet still so similar. You knew how tightly strung men could be when coming home after a fight. Focussed on relieving themselves from the last bit of aggression roaming their body. It was not dissimilar to how the na-Baron would barge into your room and nearly force himself upon you. You had grown accustomed to it.  

While you stood there, keeping still as a statue, he started talking. He had never talked to you before. You had only heard him shout, but never speak. From his face, at least as bruised and hurt as that of Feyd, come the words: “you can call me Ivan, my love” as he hummed to show he was pleased. His voice sounded rough. A thick accent, not all letters pronounced as clearly as you were used to. It surprised you that you had actually never learned his name before. This could not be anything else but the result of machinations of Feyd-Rautha. Thinking about it, it became clear that he must have known of the looks you were giving to this man. Feyd knew it all along. Nothing ever went unnoticed.

A blush appeared on your cheeks. “So, you are alive. I was fearful at first that I might end up with your corpse. You see, you never quite know how a Harkonnen will respond to a request like mine” he chuckled. Your face turned into contempt, to which he responded: “I am just joking. Relax” while both of you knew he was quite close to a potential truth. 

But here he was, and he made it clear he had no time to waste, as he placed the last step to be able to grab you in his arms. “You have no idea how long I have longed to have you. Since the very first time I saw you hiding in those shadows, noticing how possessive your lord is over you. I knew I needed to have you. Even if I would die while trying.” You started to wonder whether he had truly saved Feyd, or used the chaos of battle to get his desires fulfilled. But soon, all these thoughts left your head, to be replaced with his exploring tongue that had forced itself into your mouth, his ravishing hands finding its way through your hair to push you against him. He was slightly taller than you, yet so much stronger.   

You were still standing on same spot, in front of the mirror where you had been tidying up your hair, as he flung you around. Looking at you, gazing over your shoulder while he tore your dress to uncover your chest and stomach. His hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, grabbing your hips, licking and biting your neck, breathing in your ears, as if he was in a hurry to experience everything before time ran out. Which was probably also in line with the truth. Who knew how long the na-Baron would accept his favourite being enjoyed by another man? His favourite enjoying another man – which was perhaps worse. That knowledge must have been the reason why he did not even bother putting on fresh clothes, or wiping the blood from the fallen off his body. He had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, that was worth dying for. 

He pulled your dress up to allow his hands to roam where they needed to explore. Soon, you threw your head back on his shoulder as you decided you would succumb to what he had to offer. It was not as if you had any say in this anyhow. His touch was rough. Rougher than Feyd’s. But not less welcome. Your body warmed up to his presence quickly. He could feel how pleasure took over your body so quickly. “So wet. Just for me. Already coming on my fingers. I am starting to understand why you are his favourite. Or have you just been waiting all this time for me?”

This entree would not take long, being whisked off the ground. Perhaps this was triggered by your own roaming hands. Resting on his hips you took the opportunity to remove his shirt. Briefly you stalled: his chest and back were covered in scars from being flogged. “That is the Harkonnen treatment for you, milady” he laughed, responding to your observations. The scars were ridged. He must have been submitted to horrible treatment. And clearly was able to survive and thrive. A wonderous man this was, as you returned the kiss he had given you earlier. If this would be your last day on this planet, you too, so you had decided, would enjoy yourself.  

He did not carry you towards the bed. You did not make it there, as he placed you in front of a table. With no time to waste, he shoved you forward while dropping his trousers and pushed himself in you. No progressive build up, no tenderness, no time to allow him to fit pleasantlyin you. There was no time. He would use any second he could get as he sheathed himself in you entirely, filling you up completely and hitting your cervix.  

After a few thrusts you grew accustomed to his size, allowing you to get increased pleasure from him. Each push pulled you further of the cliff. It was one thing to come on his fingers, but to come on the cock of another man was nothing but a death-warrant to be signed. As you lay draped over the table, being succumbed to the pounding movements of Ivan, heading towards your next peak, the door opened again.  

Gruffly the na-Baron ordered: “stop.” His trainer looked up at him, and glanced deep in his eyes, while keeping his hands on your hips and not stopping: “make me, Harkonnen scum. Kill me while I am fucking your favourite. A good way to die for a warrior.” His laughter filled the room. After it died out, a warning came soon, retaking the silence in the room that was only overcome by Ivan's grunting, your moaning and him hitting your buttocks with his pelvis and balls: “careful.” But that only enticed Ivan further, as he increased the pace and grabbed your hair to show your desperate face to your lord: “see what I am doing? See how she is falling apart? She clearly needed a good fuck from a true soldier.”  

You wanted to avert your face, filled with shame, but he would not let you. As he continued stroking your innards, you tried to salvage whatever was possible. “Feyd” you moaned, reaching out for him as a wave of pleasure surpassed through your frame. You wanted to scream Ivan's name, but you had just enough sense still left in you to know that would have been the death verdict of at least two people in this room.  

The na-Baron stepped closer to you, looking down upon you with disappointment on his face, contradicted with excitement on your eye level. You hooked your hand in his trousers, as if to stabilise yourself while you were being shoved across the table. 

This gesture did more than that. It stabilised something else. It caused him to only have attention for you, as he proceeded in a manner you did not expect him to. He stepped towards you, mere centimetres of air remaining between you and him, and stayed put. He did not respond to Ivan. He did not talk. He just looked at you. As his hand moved to caress your hair, his soldier quickly removed his and reduced his pace, allowing you to regain some control over your body.

A new equilibrium was found.  

With your available hand you touched him, feeling his cock restrained by his pants. You felt the outline. Looking up to him, the disappointment had been replaced with longing and urge. He grabbed your hair, signalling what he was expecting. You knew him so well, and he knew you knew. Before long he had undone himself from his own bloodied shirt and stepped out of his trousers, allowing you to take him in your mouth.  

Your head sideways allowed you to see both men from your peripheral vision. It did not go unnoticed how they looked at each other in admiration, while they were both driving themselves in you. They were comrades in arms, shortly replaced by being adversaries, to be mates again. You were the bounty of the fight they shared. And you loved every second of it.

Before long you felt another peak come up, the moans of which transferred onto Feyd as he buried himself in your throat. You saw him looking at Ivan, with increased tension. His trainer was clearly nearing his own peak, and you had a feeling how your lord would feel about another man's sperm in your pussy. A feeling that would not be positive.  

It did not surprise you to hear his dark voice order “don't come in her pussy” after which you were immediately abandoned. Ivan heavily panted behind you, recollecting himself before he could argue with Feyd. Meanwhile, Feyd continued to thrust in your mouth. It must have been a sight to behold for the warrior to which you were gifted this evening. 

"Sir, I believe your lady is not yet fully satisfied. I believe we still have an expedition ahead of us” as he managed to cool down a bit. Feyd hummed, as he looked down on you: “yes, she has quite an appetite.” Looking up at Ivan he continued: “this is your evening. You earned it. What do you propose, comrade?” Ivan chuckled: “I would propose we continue at a softer place. The young lord removed himself from your mouth and looked at his mate: “the honour is yours.”  

It should not have surprised you that he exactly understood what he was to do, as they had fought in battle shoulder by shoulder for years, but it still did. A gasp escaped your body as you were flung over Ivan's shoulder carrying you to your bed, with Feyd leading the way and opening the doors.  

Laying you softly on your bed, he asked your concubinator: “so what else is off limits for me?” A smirk arose on Feyd's lips: “just don't come in her pussy. You earned all other benefits.” Ivan smiled, he seemed truly appreciative of what his lord had offered him. “I recommend her mouth” the na-Baron added. 

As you scooted back on the bed, Ivan followed you on hands and knees, to hover above you. “Did you hear that, little one? We are going to have so much fun” followed by another deep kiss while he grabbed your neck to hold your head close to his. A kiss now with less haste and more adventure. Feyd's cooperation had provided all of you with more time. And in that sense, also with a sense of more agency over yourself. There was no need for you anymore to be passive and merely accept what was offered. You could find your own path now. Or so you thought. 

“Gentlemen” you started, as you had pushed Ivan of you and had pushed yourself up on your elbows, “you have already brought me incredibly much pleasure.” The blue eyes of your pale man and the green eyes of your sun kissed man staring at you in anticipation, as their hands started to touch your legs. You hummed with content, as you continued: “I love how you boys are so committed to my pleasure...” The words had not left your mouth, or they had started to wolf you down. Devour you. Feyd was trailing your legs to reach the core of your pleasure, while Ivan crouched over you again, hands all over your chest, your neck, your hands. Both lapping you like dogs. Engulfing you in attention, replacing any room left in your head with primal urges.   

“Harkonnen, I believe she needs to be filled again” Ivan spoke to his leader, after he noticed how you managed to get a hold of his cock while opening your mouth wide to allow him to penetrate you with his tongue. “Your observing nature has always been one of your best traits, Ivan” Feyd said, removing his mouth from your folds. “Feyd” you moaned, as you tried to buck to meet his mouth again. “Not so impatient, pet. We decide when it is time that you will have us again.” You growled to show your aggravation and tried to lift your knee to hit your lord's face. “Ivan, she needs to submit. Teach her. Fuck her mouth.”  

Ivan, being the compliant soldier that he is, did as he was told, and did so with pleasure. He grabbed some pillows to place under your neck so you could tilt your head backwards, moved to sit beyond your head so that he could see your entire body, and placed the tip of his hard cock on your lips. “Open. Wide” he ordered, as placed his thumb in the corner of your mouth to open it.  

While he looked at you as you sucked him, drawing him in deeper and deeper, your joint master was sucking you. As he thrust into your mouth, Feyd thrust his tongue into your pussy. It was overwhelming. The attention. The pleasure. Both men seeing each other slaving for your desire. Soon you came again, trying to scream with Ivan deep in your throat, hands grabbing Feyd's bold head. “You did not lie, Harkonnen.” 

Suddenly, Ivan removed himself from you, again. Panting, trying to brief deeply. He clearly wanted to enjoy you as long as possible, knowing that this day would never come again. “Any other suggestions, sir?” as he recouped.  

Feyd removed his mouth from you, and replaced it with his fingers: “whatever you want to do. She has more holes that require pleasure”, as he softly pressed his thumb on your ass, stealing a glance. “Don't you, my darling?” You moaned, but Feyd did not accept that: “tell me. No. Beg me. What do you need? Beg us.” A sigh left you, as you arched your back to face the wall. The humiliation of this vile request, while being gazed upon by both men was hard to deal with, but the pleasure you needed was a bigger burden. Biting your lip, you felt him curl his fingers, as if to remind you of the answer he needed. “Fuck... why are you torturing me like this?” toes curling as you felt another wave coming. Bucking your pelvis on his fingers, arching your back repeatedly as a cat, moaning, the eyes of both men feasted on your naked body in extasy. “I can't... I can't take it... Feyd, please...” You knew he was teasing you. You knew you were so close. He knew exactly what he needed to do, yet, he withdrew his fingers just a bit. “You know what you need to do, little pet.”  

You groaned again. Closing your eyes as tightly as possible, while moving your hips even more ferociously, you moaned: “I need to feel your cocks inside of me.” Feyd continued to tease: “you need to be more specific darling. And you need to beg.” Agitated you pushed his thigh to show your contempt: “I am begging you. Please. Please fill me. Feyd, I need you to come in my pussy. Ivan, I need you to fill my ass. I need both of you. Please. Deep inside of me. This is too much.” 

Feyd rewarded you by pushing his fingers further in and allowing you to come again. “You see Ivan? She is listens well” as he offered his fingers to be licked clean by Ivan.  

“And sweet as well” Ivan replied. “May I?” as he looked at Feyd. “By all means. Drink. Feast. It is my pleasure. My reward for you” as Feyd extended his arm to welcome Ivan between your legs. Backing off the bed, the young lord looked at the sight in front of him, gratefully: his comrade in arms pleasuring his comrade in bed. Before long you fell in pieces yet again. 

“You promised me” you blurted out, soon after yet another wave had passed. Feyd walked up to you and squatted: “so little patience, small one. But I made a promise” as he walked around the bed to lay down next to you. His cock aiming at the sky, you knew what you were to do and straddled him. Meanwhile Ivan looked at you, jerking his cock. Making himself ready for the last course. 

As you were riding the lord, he softly guided your mouth to meet his. While allowing his tongue to also explore this crevice, he placed one hand on your butt to prepare you for what was to come. Softly pushing, softly opening you up, knuckle by knuckle moving himself in you and out again. With his other hand he snapped his fingers, calling Ivan to get closer and take over his role. 

As Ivan placed his fingers to continue, Feyd grabbed both butt cheeks to create more room for his soldier. Two fingers going in entirely with ease, throbbing in you, while you had buried Feyd inside your pussy, caused Ivan to declare: “I believe she is coming again, sir. This woman something else.” 

“She absolutely is. Now, while she is coming, push yourself in.” As you rode out yet another orgasm, it was strengthened by the sudden influx of more cock into your body. You moaned deeply into Feyd's mouth, grabbing hold of his chest and pushing your nails deep into him. It caused him to smile with pleasure. He loved to fight, yet he lived to satisfy his favourite.

A few pushes were all what was needed to have both men spill themselves in you, while you were fucked with more intensity than you had ever been fucked before. Being filled deeper and fuller than ever before. As you experienced your last wave, you let your head hang down, kissing Feyd's neck and whispering: “thank you.” 

[pumpkinbxtch]

ok so like I just requested so please take your time on this next one, I’m over here asking again alr because you’re response was so nice to my last one it made me feel ok asking again 😭❤️❤️❤️ I’ll be a little more specific with this one <3

Apollo x Fem!Reader, where the reader is a mortal who keeps reincarnating every hundred or so years and Apollo falls in love every single time 🤭 and once again it’s been a 100 or so years, and suddenly he meets her again!!! this can be god!apollo or Lester!apollo bcs honestly there’s so many possibilities with both so I’ll leave that up to you :3

Again take your time with this one and feel free not to even accept it right away!!! Thank you for the last one again and pls have a great day!! YOURE THE BEST ❤️❤️

• ° . ☆ “Free coupons, take one and cry all afternoon”

— apollo x mortal!reader

part ii

Summary: Apollo has literally loved you for years and years and lifetimes. Now that you return to him, that time his crossroads will not be long, but at least he was able to see you and fall in love with you once again. warnings: bad words, yea umm. Haha a/n: I'm so happy you liked what I wrote. It's really very important to me. AND SORRY if I'm late, it's just inspiration. The gods refused to give it to me, but it is here. Kisses.- From the other side of the milky way, María.

The first time, Apollo saw you and without hesitation passed his heart towards you. Oh gods, he had the best weeks of his life, but then he had to let you go. You were a mortal, he couldn't be with you for long without exposing you to danger.

And since he loved you so much, he decided to give up, he forced himself to see more for you than for his need to be with you.

He had already calculated it, it was about 100 years or so to see you again, but throughout those, he changed completely, he had to face a great battle against his father's ego and that of himself. He almost forgot how old and ageless he was, when you spend more than six months fighting for your life, that's how it is. Until that day when he accompanied his now friends to an amusement park, the same ones as always; Will, Nico, Rachel, Meg, and the seven. Ten young adults, one teenager and ONE “apparent” young adult. They were having a great time, actually.

The roller coasters, the ice cream, the sun (him), the kiddie rides that Meg insisted on riding. But Apollo had gotten tired, can a god get tired? Well, he's trying to keep up with so many demigods with ADHD at a fun fair.

He took a seat on one of those wooden benches with faded rainbow paint. The others looked for him and gathered around.

— Apollo! I want to go to the water attraction —  Percy said, holding Annabeth's hand, who was apparently analyzing the map of the place.

— Yes, and then we go to the flying chairs — said Jason, his practically brother. A smile that he had never seen adorned his face, next to him, Leo hung from the blonde's neck.

—Yes, come on, sunny.

—Don't be lazy, I want to go to the carousel.— Meg said, squeezing the dolphin plushie that he had won for her in the shooting game.

Frank handed him his ice cream, and Hazel looked at him for any injuries.

Will and Nico seemed to have moved on, they were very lovey-dovey lately.

—Thank you, Frank. I'm fine —

— If you don't like sharing, I can go get one for you.

Apollo smiled and brushed his brown hair out of his face.

—I'm fine, man. Don't worry.

But he knew that wasn't the case, he felt something in his stomach that wouldn't leave him alone.

Piper and Rachel looked at each other, both seeming to read each other's minds as they discussed something.

—How about we walk Meg to the carousel and come back for you? It sounds fun, a bunch of us riding metal animals going up and down —  Piper said, taking Meg's hand. Rachel nodded and smiled at Apollo.

— Yes, I think it will be enough for you to rest.

No one had any objections, but Apollo had sensed a certain charm in the words of Aphrodite's daughter. Was he missing something?

Everyone advanced and Rachel was the last to set off, she looked at the god knowingly.

— Good luck.

Apollo did not know what those words meant, and he waved goodbye. A remorse for not accompanying them invaded him, but he stayed sitting on the bench. He ruffled his curls anxiously and leaned on his thighs, taking in the great view of the concrete with a cooler of ants carrying breadcrumbs. Then, he felt a hit on the head and an apology.

— Sorry! Are you ok?

He looked up and oh, fuck. It was you? He could feel his heart crushing and feeling on fire. Apollo stood up from the bench.

— I-I'm fine, don't worry.

The last time he had seen you, your eyes were the color of olive, now they were brown, but the look was the same. You gave him a warm smile and placed your hands on your chest.

— Really? —

He nodded and smiled, too.  For you, Apollo's blue eyes became familiar within seconds of seeing them.

— We know each other?

“We've met thousands of times,” he wanted to say, but he couldn't. In other lives, he had told you that he was a god, and you believed him. But the situation in how you had met that day, the hurried manner of your meeting, told him that the meeting with you would not last at all. Even so, seconds or glances were enough for him, he was already in love with you, again.

His heart was immersed in melancholy, and he wanted to hug you.

— Maybe…

You opened your eyes a little and approached him curiously, you smelled like lavender and sunshine, that last one made his stomach flip. You were almost invading his personal space, which made him push his chin back to avoid bumping into your nose.

— I thought that, too. Do you come here often? It's just that I work at one of those food islands. — You told him and stepped back smiling to show him your uniform. You had a cap with the company logo embroidered on it.

— Ahm yes, with… — He thought of Meg and the others. He made a silent apology to Artemis — My sister and my friends.

You widened your smile and dug something into your pants pockets.

Apollo wanted to kiss you.

You hummed and finally took out some papers. Would you give him your number?

You held them out to him.

— Coupons!

Apollo took them gently, your fingers collided with his, and you felt a kind of electricity in your stomach. You let out a nervous laugh.

— Well, see you…— The boy came out of his trance. A name, he wouldn't say Apollo, would he?, but…

—Lester! — You smiled again and waved your hand goodbye.

— See you, Lester.

And you walked away from him, leaving him empty and wanting to take you with him to spend the rest of the afternoon at the fair, to be happy, to be together.

He spread the coupons in the palm of his hand and looked at them. He was able to gain something from his misfortune, at least. Of course, why not? Burgers for everyone.

— Apollo! — Meg's voice made him turn, and he smiled when he saw everyone. It seemed that Will and Nico had found their way back to the others.

Rachel met his gaze, she seemed slightly worried. So at that moment it all became obvious, she knew he would meet you.

Apollo sighed and held up the coupons in his hand.

— are you hungry?

[dearsnow]

Hello!

Could I request a Jon Snow x female reader, where she is a seamstress for the Stark family and they become friends and talk during her visits to Winterfell and slowly become lovers?

A PATCHWORK OF BLOOD AND BATTLES

- you are a fighter, and so seems to be the needle stuck in your thumb. and, of course, the man that unintentionally put it there (jon snow x fem!seamstress!reader ⚠️ mentions of blood and a needle-based injury).

word count: 1058

a/n - this took absolutely forever to finish i’m so sorry 😭 i think this request was from literal months ago, but here you are!! i love this concept so much, i hope you don’t mind my artistic liberties :)

You have fought for everything in your life. For your right to simply exist in the same world as the nobles, for your trade, and most importantly, you have fought for yourself. You have climbed the ranks of peasantry with chipped nails and a needle, asking for more and getting less. Now, you have won. At least, you have won as much as the earth beneath your feet will allow you to win. You are a seamstress for one of the most prominent families in Westeros, and as you patch a hole in a fancy evening dress, you can’t help but smile.

The night is dark, but you are not unfamiliar with the flicker of a candle flame. Snow falls lightly outside, and the wind rustles your hair as it sneaks through your open window. As you thread your needle through the lacy fabric, your door slams open.

Your eyes widen as the needle between your fingers is driven straight into your thumb, sending a shooting pain through your entire hand. You let out a sharp yelp, clutching your injury. Who in the gods’ good name was slamming doors at this hour? And why the hell didn’t they warn you?

The thumb clenched between your hand is throbbing and dripping red around the needle still stuck in the middle of it. You look up at the man who startled you, eyes burning with distaste.

It’s him. Lord Stark’s bastard child, the one that sits alone at feasts. And the one that comes to you with sword slashes in his vests.

“May I help you?” You ask. Your finger is still in burning hot pain.

In truth, you have grown to like him. He is also someone who has fought for his status, though his came with a lot more cushion. You recognize the burn in him, the drive that your own eyes carry. He will do great things someday; you’re sure of it.

He looks at you like your hand is made of dragonfire. “Sorry.”

You press your lips into a thin line. You need to keep him on your good side if you wish to keep your job.

You tuck your hand behind your back, hoping he just drops off whatever garment he needs repaired and leaves you to nurse your sores. Unluckily for you, he is a gentleman.

He moves to kneel beside you, dark curls almost glowing in the dim lighting. He looks positively angelic as he reaches for your hand.

“My lord?”

“Allow me to help.” He utters, voice as soft as the wind. He is an honorable man, you cannot deny it. You have seen him in the courtyards during your visits to the castle. He is always improving and always helping others do the same. He gets it from his father, you assume.

You comply with his urges, slightly in fear that you will lose your position if you do not. That worry is always in the back of your head. Will sewing this neckline a millimeter too short cost you your life? Is this cuff good enough for Lady Stark? Are you up to the task? Your thoughts almost consume you long enough to not notice Jon Snow pulling the needle out of your finger.

Almost. You feel a sharp sting of pain, but you bite your tongue. He swiftly wraps the undershirt in his hand around yours. For a brief moment, his rough hands brush the tip of your pinky finger. You have never felt anything so electrifying.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up like the angels have come for your body at long last. When he pulls away, your thumb shouts with new pain, but all you can focus on is the memory of his hand. You shake your head.

“Shall I call the maester?” He asks, ever the responsible one. You wave your good hand.

“I will be alright, my lord. I will wash and patch your shirt, if you wish.” You don’t exactly love the idea of taking the pressure off of your wound, but you must be willing to sacrifice your own comfort in this moment to assure your future.

He stands, and an owl outside hoots. His eyes flicker to the window, then back down to you. “Don’t worry about it. Keep the thing.”

This shocks you. It shouldn’t, but it does. He is being kind to you. For the first time in a long while, someone is being kind to you.

“I mustn’t, my lord.” You speak, hesitantly standing up next to him.

“It’s no trouble. I insist.” His voice is smooth, and the sound tickles your ears. You think you could hear him speak all night if you ever had the opportunity. Something in you wishes you did.

You nod slowly. It would be rude to further refuse it. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You hope it is not the fact that you suddenly hope your finger never stops bleeding.

Jon turns to leave, exiting just as swiftly as he had come. You clutch his shirt, heart beating wildly in disbelief of what just happened. In that moment, you suddenly decide that you have another thing to fight for.

Gods, did you fight for it. You took every opportunity to see him, and it worked like a well-oiled hinge. From patching more sword slashes to custom-tailoring a pair of riding pants, you were able to take any of his sewing work off of your coworkers’ hands. And through that, you began to learn why exactly he was fighting.

He often sat in your quarters while you worked, and you were beyond glad for the company. Eventually, he began to open up as beautifully as a flower in spring.

He was neglected and outright hated by Lady Stark, as he was the bane of her married life. He wishes to take the black and become a watcher of the wall. Most importantly, he does everything possible to maintain what little honor he has in his family.

Like you, he is a fighter.

Sometimes, in the quiet night, words spill from his mouth like he has never held them back. You do the same. And every once in a while, very softly, he takes your hands in his larger ones and whispers that he will fight only for you.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist: @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @cecespizza01

[senualothbrok]

Content

Summary: After seeing everyone at the reunion party, Gale wonders if you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Word count: 1.4k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Unascended Gale x Tav. Unascended Astarion. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.

AO3 link

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That-” The bed dips as he collapses beside you. “Was a lovely evening.”

It is instinct now, to nestle yourself into him, to nuzzle into the nook where his neck meets his shoulder. To interlace your fingers with his.

His words are lightly slurred, drowsy from wine, heavy with pleasure. He is so warm. A light drizzle has begun outside. You lie still, listening to the gentle patter of rain on the sea.

“Everyone looked so happy,” you say. “Did you see Wyll and Karlach?”

His grin is so wide you can hear it. “I can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”

“Even Lae’zel.” You laugh. “She told me she was having a nice time. She used the word nice.”

Gale chuckles. Your body moves to its rhythm.

“Shadowheart wants to stop by again next month.”

“That would be marvellous.”

“Did I show you the duck that Halsin gave me?”

“Yes, my love. More than once. I think you showed everyone at the party.”

You sigh. “Even Jaheira and Minsc looked well. Well, Minsc looked like an escaped prisoner, but I guess that’s his version of thriving.”

“It’s heartening to see that some things never change.” He runs his fingers through your hair, slow and soft. Your eyelids begin to flutter. “And that some things do. Astarion, for instance. He seems remarkably well, doesn’t he?”

Your eyes spring open. You shift your head slightly.

“He does.”  

“He and Tara took to each other like flies to a carcass. For almost half an hour they traded casual insults about my beard, my lack of organisation, and my life choices in general. It was most entertaining. For them.

You trace your fingers over his chest. There are the faintest indents in his skin where the mark of the orb used to be.

“Some things never change.” 

“Indeed.” He kisses your forehead. “Just like the good old days, I suppose, when we were two suitors battling for the prize of your precious affections.”

You look up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Is that what I was? A prize to be won through a contest of manhood?”

He rubs his nose against yours. “Of course not. Your love is a gift, one I never dreamed I’d deserve.”

He goes on before you can protest.

“I think he may still hold my good fortune against me, though. Despite being a changed man. A leader of seven thousand spawn, even.” There is pride in his voice.

In the silence that follows, you bask in that pride. You too are indescribably proud of Astarion, how far he has come, the life he has made for himself.

“No regrets, then?” Gale asks.

He disguises it as a jest, a throwaway comment. But there is a stiffness in his chest, a hollowness to his tone, that he cannot conceal from you.

“Regrets?”

He shuffles. As he tilts his head, you see a crease on his brow.

“Do you regret your choice? Now that you’ve seen Astarion again, in all his glory?”

It is the briefest of moments. You hesitate. And he sees it.

He moves back.  Doubt darkens his features. Desperation quivers in them. He searches your eyes.

You had wanted to brush it off, dismiss it as absurd. Reassure him that you had never entertained any doubts, that you had never been uncertain about your choice. But that would not be true. And you had promised, when you had sworn your lives to each other, that you would always tell the truth.

You had promised each other that you would not sacrifice your own needs on the altar of the other’s approval. Those days were over and gone. You had vowed to always tell each other the truth about what you wanted, what you needed, what you felt. No longer would you ignore or deny who you were out of fear that the other would withdraw their love.

Your marriage had been built on that promise. You could not disregard it now.

“You can tell me.” He nods. There is turmoil in his gaze, but also kindness. And love. So much love.

You place your hand on his heart. You take a deep breath.

“After we ended things, I worried for Astarion. For a long time, I thought I had broken him, even more than he already was. I thought, after all he’d been through, for me to leave him like that…”

You remember the cold tentacles of guilt that latched around your heart, the weight of the shame that crushed you.

“I thought that I could help him. I wanted to be there for him, when no one else had been. He said I was the only one who had ever been kind to him, the only good thing he had experienced in this godsdamned shitty world. To have left him, after all that… I thought I had destroyed him.”

You remember all the sleepless nights, the dreams, the nightmares.  You know, with such certainty, that Gale will understand. You have cradled him in your arms, after all, when he has woken stricken and confused, calling out Mystra’s name. Some things do not need to be explained.

The tenderness of Gale’s gaze gives you strength to continue.

“It was exhausting, to feel like I always wanted him to be something he wasn’t. He resented me for it, for trying to change him. All the times I had to talk him down, justify my decisions, tell him that it was worth it to be kind and compassionate, to help people without expecting anything in return. I’m a Paladin, for gods’ sake, and the number of times I had to explain my oath…” You shake your head. “I felt like I had to make myself smaller, to be a different person, for our love to survive.”

Your voice breaks. “It was too much, anyway, to be the one to save him, to be his only hope.”

There is uncertainty in Gale’s frown. You see the question he holds back.

“It was different with you, Gale. You were a good man long before we met. Even being cursed with the power to obliterate an entire city couldn’t take away your kindness. Your goodness. Even that couldn’t make you bitter or cruel.”

Gale’s face has softened, but he averts his eyes. He looks contrite, when he has no reason to be.

“I admit that I’ve had some concerns.” He grimaces. “When you’re frightfully out of practice, and competing with someone with such clear expertise in matters of seduction…” He clears his throat. “It’s difficult not to wonder.”

“It was never like that.” You hand moves to cup Gale’s cheek. “And seduction, sex – that’s different from…well, making love, forgive the cliché.”

You have discussed intimacy before with Gale, but you have never discussed how things were with Astarion. You do not want to hurt him, but you owe him the truth.

“Sometimes, touch was hard for him. Being close. Showing love. And I understood that. But sometimes, I needed to be touched. To be held.”

It still surprises you, how easy it is to show Gale your heart and all its scars. How safe you feel in the knowledge that he will never run away from them.

“I felt so, so selfish for that.  And for a long time, I blamed myself, for leaving him, for choosing happiness with you.”

The tears come without warning. You brush them away, but they do not stop.

“I could never regret this life with you, Gale. But I did feel guilty. Ashamed. Now, after seeing him, knowing how happy he is, knowing how truly well he is, being able to hug him…” A laugh bursts from you, bright with relief, shaky with tears. “I don’t have to feel that way anymore.”

When he smiles, it is like the light of a thousand stars radiating through you.

“My love,” he whispers. “If I’d known that you were carrying this burden with you all this time, I would have asked you this question sooner.”

He reaches for you and holds you to his chest. You can feel the beating of his heart, echoing through you, boundless as the night sky.

“Choosing you was the best choice I’ve ever made,” you breathe.

His lips caress your hair, your ear, your neck, the tears which fall down your cheeks. His tongue melts into yours as your limbs entwine with his. You give yourself to each other, as you have before, as you will again and again. And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you are content.

----

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: After everything at the airport Mori brings Atsushi to the Port Mafia. And even with the deal in place Atsushi has to plead his case.

(Since we’re talking about the parallels between Atsushi and Chuuya.)

Mori’s expression didn’t change as Atsushi gave him the full run down of events. He was the picture of calm and composed. It made Atsushi wonder how much of it was how he actually felt.

If Fukuchi had been the man of a thousand faces. Then who knew how many masks Mori had at his disposal.

“You’ve had quite the day” Mori said finally. As if Atsushi had been talking about the weather. He wasn’t sat at his desk but a lone chair infront of the large windows of his office.

“You could say that again…” mumbled Atsushi before he could stop himself. He felt so small in this large imposing room. The guards by the door only reinforcing that he was in enemy territory.

One wrong move and he was dead.

“But while I offer my sincere condolences, I fail to see how any of this is my responsibility.” Said Mori, sounded almost bored by the whole interaction. Atsushi stared at him in surprise as he continued.

“The Port Mafia has sacrificed a great deal in the name of aiding the Armed Detective Agency.” Said Mori, eyes sharp as he took in Atsushi. “So give me one good reason why I should help you.”

A cold chill went down Atsushi’s spine.

Mori’s words rang in his ears like alarm bells. It was true that the Port Mafia had suffered in this battle with Fyodor. Akutagawa’s death, being the centre of the vampire outbreak.

And yet, Mori had never shied away from helping the Agency. Even when he said no to the initial alliance offer, Mori still offered his aid over and over again.

If he truly saw no reason to work with Atsushi. Then why did he save him at the airport? Any alliance between the two organisations would’ve died with the Agency. And even then Mori only worked in his own interest. He had no reason to save Atsushi.

Or did he?

And just like that everything clicked into place.

“Game theory dictates that the optimal response to an enemies attack is to fight back with everything you have.” Recalled Atsushi. “That was the advice you gave me back in Anne’s Room.” He shook his head “you could’ve let me escape.“

He could’ve chosen not to intervene as he had done prior. He could’ve let Atsushi abandon his friends behind. But Mori had instead stepped in and given Atsushi the resolve to fight.

“It would’ve weakened the Agency and benefited the Port Mafia. But you wouldn’t let me because it would’ve harmed the city.” The love for this great city was the one thing that Fukuzawa and Mori could ever agree on.

It was why Atsushi proposed an alliance between the two organisations in the first place. Despite everything the Port Mafia had done to him. Atsushi had looked past his anger for them and seen how far they were willing to go to protect the city.

And taking out the Agency meant that the Tripartite framework would no longer be effective.

“You could’ve left me at the airport to die. But you know what my ability is capable of.” In a glow of blue light his arm transformed. It alerted the guards but Mori stopped them by simply raising a hand. His eyes trained on Atsushi’s tiger claws.

Bingo.

“And you know how powerful mine and Akutagawa’s abilities are when we work together. And when they’re combined. That kind of power will be needed to end this enemy before they have another chance to strike.”

Fukuchi had said that day that “the reason you lost is because you let me draw this sword’ that’s what Fukuchi had said that day. They’d won in another time, Fukuchi had all but confirmed it. But drawing that sword and striking it before death had saved him.

It was a mistake that could not be made again.

Mori hummed thoughtfully. “That may be true. But your power on its own was said to be the key to destroying the enemy. And yet here you stand before me as the sole survivor of the Armed Detective Agency.”

His gaze seemed to pierce into Atsushi’s soul.

“If your the key, then why is the Agency not here?” It felt like a taunt and Atsushi should’ve gotten mad. Instead all he felt was despair. His own failures striking him over again.

The blood on his hands that Atsushi could never wash away.

“They were taken out one by one. We barely had time to act. That…thing moved faster than light. But the reason the enemy is still here is because everyone was trying to protect me.“ Said Atsushi quietly.

He hung his head in shame.

“It’s all my fault.”

He clenches his fist as it returns to normal. He didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now.

“But all that matters now is stopping Fyodor. You saw what he did at the airport. That’s only the beginning.” After all Fyodor wanted the book above anything else and the book was in Yokohama.

“I’m not smart enough nor am I strong enough to go against him alone. My friends are gone. And you’re all I have to turn too to defeat him and save this city. To that end….”

Atsushi dropped onto one knee before Mori.

“I will dedicate my blood and all that I am to you, Mori Ougai of the Port Mafia. I will protect this city and this organisation that you head. And I will work for you to decimate our enemies. To follow the plans you have carefully laid.”

The silence that followed threatened to engulf him but Atsushi didn’t move.

“Welcome to the Port Mafia, Atsushi Nakajima.” Atsushi raised his head, surprised. And for the first time since he’d entered this office Mori’s expression changed to a pleased smile.

This test was one Atsushi had passed.

“Come now, we have much to discuss.” Said Mori, the guards parting to let them both pass. With Atsushi walking behind him. “There is something you forgot from our talk that day” said Mori. His voice a lot more pleasant and like the shy doctor Atsushi met in Anne’s Room.

But there was a strength, an assurance within him that made it clear to all he was in charge here.

“What did I miss?”

“No enemy is more vulnerable than one convinced they can’t lose.”

[sissylittlefeather]

Blue Moon: a Pacer Burton Story

A/N: I've been wanting to write a Pacer (from Flaming Star) fic for a long time because I love him so much. Then he started appearing everywhere in my face and it felt like a sign that it was time. This also has hints of @pebbles403's fabulous Pacer AI, so I have to give a shoutout there. If you like this fic, you'll like that character! Oh, also, reader is half Native, but looks Native, so use your imagination if that's not you.

As always, thanks to @ccab for listening to me whine and cuss as I write 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, although this one is pretty tame, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, both characters are virgins, so mentions of pain during sex, also references to racism

Word count: ~4.1k

When the half-Kiowa man came through your village to declare his loyalty to Buffalo Horn, you knew you were supposed to look away. But you couldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the only person you'd ever seen who was like you: half-white, half-Kiowa.

Your Kiowa father had married your white mother in a ceremony that was both hopeful and condemned. It was hopeful because your grandparents believed they might be a bridge that would help both sides learn to live in peace. It was condemned because that was never going to happen. As the war continued to rage, their union became more and more of a problem. The white people rejected your mother and the Kiowa people began to question your father's decision. This was especially true after you were born. No one knew what to expect when your mother was pregnant. Would you look like her? Would you look like your father? Or would you be a blend? Your mother's family was beyond disappointed when you were born with your father's dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Nothing of her blood won out in the battle inside you. And your father's people would never quite get over how you looked like one of them, but weren't one of them, just enough to make them wonder about you.

So you grew up on the outside, never knowing what it would feel like to be a part of any group. Although you lived among your father's people, they laughed and jeered and called you "white-face princess" despite your skin tone that matched their own. And the one time your mother took you home to her people, your aunt refused to acknowledge you and your uncle called you a "filthy little half-breed".

You had no people, no place. All you had were the judgmental stares and mocking whispers of everyone who knew where they belonged, as if you had any choice in where you came from.

So when Pacer Burton rode into your town on horseback, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. You had a burning desire to ask him if he knew how you felt, a never-ending buzzing in your soul that needed to hear his experience.

But he was busy with Buffalo Horn and the war. You had seen him before when he would come with his mother, always carrying himself like a white man, not quite embracing who he was as a Kiowa. This time, though, he came to your father's people as one of them. Everything about him had changed and for the first time you felt like he might actually listen if you spoke.

Still, there was no time for women's business in the midst of the battle that raged between both halves of you.

When he came back again to fight your father's people, caught in the rage of what had happened to his father and brother, you knew this would not end well for him. So you ran away. You took supplies and a horse and left for one of the houses that the white people had once lived in. You followed him as he left for the white village, convinced he was going to die. And then, when he fell off of his horse some miles outside of there, you knew this was your chance.

******

Pacer is awoken by the sound of dishes rattling and the smell of something cooking. When he sits up in the bed, he's shocked to find that he's still alive. He checks his body and finds that he's been bandaged in several places, the smell of healing herbs strong in the cotton strips. These scents are familiar to him and they remind him of his mother. There is a pang in his heart when he remembers that she's dead and it couldn't have been her who patched him up. He stands cautiously and makes his way to the kitchen area carefully. He's taken aback by the sight of you by the hearth, stirring a pot of something.

Before you notice he's standing there, his eyes run over you, from your long black braids, to your tanned angelic face, and all the way down to the moccasins on your feet. You feel familiar to him, but he can't quite place you. As he stands there trying to come up with something to say, you see him in the doorway and stand up.

"You're awake."

"Yes. Who are you? Where am I?"

"It's not important. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been beaten in a war, but I'm still alive."

"That's not so far from the truth." You go back to stirring the pot and he walks into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

"I say it is important. Who are you and where am I?"

"I'll start with your second question first. You are in a safe place. The whites won't come looking for you here because this is Kiowa land now. The Kiowa won't come looking for you here either."

"You're Kiowa."

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"I am like you. With a foot in each world but never belonging to either."

"You're half."

"My father is a Kiowa warrior. My mother is the white daughter of a prominent man in your town." He looks down at his hands.

"It's not my town."

"No, of course not. Where do you belong, Pacer?" He looks up at you suddenly when you use his name. You turn away from the pot and stand again.

"I don't belong anywhere. How do you know me?"

"I've seen you come into my father's village many times."

"Why have I never noticed you before?"

"Were you looking for a Kiowa girl?" He looks down again, ashamed almost.

"No. I'm sorry."

"No need. I understand what I am." He looks back up at you.

"But you said you're like me. Why don't you look like me?"

"My father's blood won out in the battle for how I look. There is very little of my mother in me."

"There was no battle in me. There's just a balance of each that keeps me different enough to not fit in anywhere." He looks straight ahead, clenching his jaw and his fists.

"You fit in here with me." He relaxes and looks up into your face again. He sees the pain of a person who has lived in loneliness their whole life. He knows that look and that pain.

"And if I decide to leave?"

"I cannot stop you. I don't expect you to stay beyond the time it takes for you to heal." You turn back to the stove and try not to let him see the tears that have gathered in your eyes. You want him to stay, need him to stay even. But you know you can't force him.

"Why do you expect me to leave?" He cocks his head to the side and watches you curiously as you cook.

"I know you will not love me. And that's the only reason you would stay." You look up and will the tears not to fall.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I won't love you."

"I know what I am and I know what you wanted. I'm not the pretty little white girls you went to school with." You wipe away a rogue teardrop and try to refocus on your cooking.

"You don't know what I want. Hell, I don't know what I want. And besides, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want me either, looking like this." You turn to him and he gestures to his eyes. "I have the eyes of a white man."

"Oh, Pacer." You stand and walk to him, kneeling down next to his chair. "You are a Kiowa with eyes like the sky. Why would I not want you?"

You look at each other in silence and there's a moment of understanding between you. Then you go back to the pot of food. He feels like you have cracked him wide open and he's never experienced a person quite like you before.

"And if I stay?" Your heart skips, but you continue to stare at the pot you're stirring.

"Then I would take care of you in the best way I know how. And at least you wouldn't be alone." You turn back to him.

He looks at you again, and really looks this time. He's captivated by the way your raven-black braids sit on your shoulders and your dark eyes seem to sparkle like the night sky. You are stunning, even in your domesticity, and he never knew he could find a Kiowa girl so attractive. You awaken something deep inside him that even he doesn't recognize.

"I'll stay. For now." You smile at him softly and it almost takes his breath away. Even if you can only have him for a little while, you'll take it.

"Good. Now, eat your stew. You need strength to heal." You stand and place a bowl in front of him and he immediately knows it as something his mother used to make. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. "You don't like it?"

"No, I do. It just reminds me of my mother."

"I was sorry to hear about your mother. She was good friends with my father's sister when they were young. We mourned like family when we heard." Something about that warms his heart and makes him feel a little more at home here with you. He's glad he decided to stay, even just for a little while.

******

After he eats, the exhaustion of his injuries becomes obvious. He looks around the tiny cabin and realizes something.

"There's only one bed. Where have you been sleeping?" You blush a little and he almost smiles.

"Next to you. I wanted to make sure you were still breathing." You also loved the feeling of being so close to him, but you can't tell him that part. "But I can sleep on the floor tonight, now that you are well enough."

"No, I'll sleep on the floor-"

"Pacer, you are not fully healed. You need good rest. You will sleep in the bed."

"Then you'll sleep next to me again. It doesn't change anything that I know about it now. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us." He doesn't waste any time climbing into the bed and laying on one side. He pats the bed beside him as if to tell you to lay down. You look around shyly and then crawl in beside him. The bed is big enough for both of you, but not big enough for you to have much space between you. "I haven't thanked you for taking care of me."

"It's not necessary. I was happy to-"

"Thank you." He doesn't have to lean far to place the soft kiss on your cheek. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you and you wish he would kiss you again. But he doesn't. Instead, he settles in and is asleep quickly. You roll onto your side and look at him as his breathing becomes even. He's so beautiful when he sleeps. Something about watching him calms you and before you know it, you drift off too.

******

In the morning you wake up first. You're surprised to find him wrapped around you with his face in your chest. You're on your sides facing each other, so you pull back and look down at him. You try to decide if you should move away from him before he wakes up, but you wait too long and he stirs. When his eyes open, he looks at you confused. Then, he realizes the position you're in and rolls away from you quickly onto his back. You roll onto your back as well.

"I'm sorry. I-" He starts but you interrupt him.

"It's okay. You were asleep. I know it didn't mean anything." He closes his eyes and thinks to himself that it sure felt like it meant something.

You desperately wish that it meant something.

Still, you get out of bed and begin to make breakfast. He follows close behind you and sits at the table patiently.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Oh, it's y/n."

"It's not a Kiowa name?"

"My mother named me. My father's people call me Khoam Khote. It means strong wind. They hoped I would be a force for change. Instead, I became a force for destruction."

"I don't think you're a force for destruction. You saved my life. That's not very destructive." He looks at you sheepishly and a warm smile spreads across your face.

"Thank you, Pacer." You walk to him at the table and kiss his cheek. He looks into your eyes.

"I'm going to call you y/n." You lean forward and press your lips to his gently. Then you pull back quickly and stand up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay, y/n." He smiles for the first time and you feel like you could melt into the floor.

"I won't do it again." His smile falls a little and he nods. He wouldn't mind if you did it again. He wouldn't mind if you did it over and over. But he understands why you might not want to. No one has ever wanted him before. Why would that change now?

******

Several weeks pass by with the two of you in this kind of polite limbo. After you kiss him, you try to keep your distance, despite sleeping in the same bed. And despite the fact that you always wake up with him wrapped around you.

You do get more comfortable with each other as you live and work. He hunts and fixes up the house and you go into your father's village to gather more supplies periodically. You plant a vegetable garden and hope he'll still be around when it's time to collect your harvest. He doesn't seem to show any signs of leaving, though, even after his wounds heal.

Truth be told, he's in heaven living this domestic dream with you. You're all the company he needs and he lives for the nights when he gets to touch you like he wants to under the guise of being asleep. Sometimes when you fall asleep first, he watches you and kisses your forehead or cheeks. He traces the outline of your lips or the line of your nose with his fingertips. He's not sure why you won't let him love you, but maybe he was right when he said you wouldn't want him.

One morning he wakes up earlier than normal and realizes that you're not in the bed. He panics a little and gets up quickly. You're not anywhere to be found in the little house. He walks outside and calls your name in the wind. The air is warm and he decides to walk to the small creek nearby to cool off. As he approaches, though, he sees someone in the creek. He hides behind a bush and then tries to see who it might be.

It's you.

And you're naked.

What he didn't know is that every other day or so you sneak out from under his arms and walk to the creek early to bathe. Then, you slide back into bed and pretend like you're just waking up. He never notices that your braids are wet.

But today, he notices you. He can't take his eyes off of you as you bathe in the cool water. He's completely captivated by your tawny skin glistening in the sunlight, the curvature of your hips, and the fullness of your breasts. He's never seen anything so beautiful. The physical response is undeniable and he wishes desperately that he could go to you and touch you. He needs to put his mouth on every inch of your skin and feel you pressed against him. He's never been with a woman like that before, but here as he watches you, it's the only thing he wants in the world.

He sighs deeply and turns away from you. The last thing he needs is to be caught watching you bathe. Instead, he makes his way back to the cabin. Once he's inside, he sits on the side of the bed and waits for you to come back. But as he waits, he just can't get rid of his erection. He can't stop thinking about you in the water and his cock is so hard it hurts. He stands and walks to the window. You're not anywhere to be seen, so he assumes he has some time before you'll be back. Something has to happen, so he unbuckles his belt and sits on the edge of the bed. He takes his pants off and wraps his hand around his throbbing dick. As he thinks about your body in the sunlight, he begins to stroke himself. He thinks of your slightly hardened nipples and the patch of hair between your legs hiding the place he wants to see most of all. He imagines what it would be like to touch you, to run his hands over your skin and feel all the soft parts of you. He pumps his cock harder and faster as he thinks about your mouth wrapped around him, your pussy on him as he fills you up. He's never had such dirty thoughts about a woman before but he needs you with a new kind of hunger.

A moan escapes his lips just as the door opens and you walk in quietly, fully intending to crawl into bed with him as he sleeps. But he's not asleep. Your mouth pops open at the sight in front of you: Pacer stroking his cock and moaning your name.

"Pacer?"

"Oh God!" He sees you and tries to hide himself frantically. He blushes a deep red and you can tell he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. "God, y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Pacer." You walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Look at me."

You swiftly untie your nightgown, slip it down over your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground at your feet. You aren't wearing anything underneath it, so once it's on the floor, you're standing in front of him fully naked. His eyes widen and he looks at you with desperation. He's dying to reach out and touch you.

You walk towards him and pull the blanket that he used to cover himself off and toss it to the side. His mouth is partially open as you step forward and unbutton his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders and off.

"Y/n, I..." You're so close to him now that you can feel his breath on your body.

"Is this what you want, Pacer?" His eyes move from your body up to your face. You pray that you've judged the situation correctly and he won't reject you.

"Yes. God, yes." You take him in as he sits on the edge of the bed naked. His body is just as beautiful as you thought it would be. His tanned skin matches yours and there's the slightest patch of hair on his chest. Your eyes drift even further down and you see his dick, it's long and hard and straight and for some reason it makes your mouth water. You've never been with a man like this, but right now it's the only thing you need. He's the only thing you need.

In a gesture of boldness that shocks even you, you crawl onto his lap and straddle him, your dripping center rubbing against his cock. He whimpers as you take your place on his lap.

"Pacer, touch me." His eyes drift back up to meet yours. And then he carefully reaches out and grabs your hips. He runs his hands up to your breasts and drags his thumbs across your nipples. You throw your head back at the sensation of his hands on you. He kisses one of your breasts and then your neck and you lean into him and kiss him fully on the mouth. He parts your lips with his and slides his tongue in to dance against yours. When he comes up out of the kiss for air, he pulls back and looks you in the eye, his hands resting on your hips again.

"I've never..."

"Me neither."

"I want to... I want to try..."

"Me too." The passion overtakes him and he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you back into kissing him. You slowly roll your hips forward and he groans. You back out of the kiss and whisper.

"I think you need to be on top of me."

"Yeah, that's what Clint told me." He gently and deliberately picks you up and flips you so that you're on your back. He leans in and kisses you deeply again. When he pulls back from the kiss, he looks into your night-sky eyes and is overcome with affection for you. "You're so beautiful."

You feel like you could cry, but you don't. Instead, you reach up and push his hair back out of his face where it's fallen into his eyes.

"Do you mean that, Pacer?"

"I do. You might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He kisses your cheek gently and takes a deep breath.

"Are you ready for me?"

You nod and he lines himself up with your entrance. You tremble a little at the thought of him pushing inside you.

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe a little, I think? If it does, tell me and I'll stop." You nod again and he slowly starts to press into you. He gets the tip into you and you grimace.

"Should I stop? Does it hurt?"

"Not bad. Please don't stop."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Pacer, please."

"Okay." He pushes into you some more and it stings for a moment and then the pain gives way to something else. After a few more seconds, he's fully inside you and he grunts and lays his head on your shoulder. "That feels so good. Can I? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm ready." He begins to slowly pump in and out of you. You inhale sharply at the sensation and he stops moving.

"Does... does it hurt?"

"No, it feels good!" He smiles down at you and goes back to sliding in and out. You moan quietly and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He whimpers again and kisses your shoulder.

"It's so good, y/n. It's so so good." He begins to move a little faster, slamming his hips into yours passionately.

"Yes, Pacer!" Something is building inside of you, but you have no idea what it is. When it explodes, you feel like you might die with the sensation of electricity running through you. You moan loudly and grab him and hold him close to your body. He feels your walls pulse and stops moving for a second.

"What was that?" He asks incredulously.

"I don't know, but it was amazing. Don't stop!" He kisses your cheek and then resumes his rhythm of pounding into you. His cock slides in and out of you a few more times before he grunts.

"I think I'm gonna..." But he doesn't get the rest of his sentence out. Instead he slams into you one last time and shoots you full of something warm. "Oh, god, y/n, yes!"

He pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out and lays next to you on the bed. You both lie there in silence, sweating and breathing heavily. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks.

"Remember when you said I wouldn't love you?" He turns his head to look at you.

"I do."

"You were wrong." He rolls onto his side and grabs your hand, kissing your fingers.

"Pacer, you're only saying that because-"

"No. I've known it for weeks. We belong together. I love you." You feel like your heart might explode with joy. You smile softly and he melts.

"Will you stay here with me?"

"Y/n, I will stay with you for as long as you'll have me." He presses his lips to your palm.

"Forever, then?"

"Forever." He wraps you in his arms and kisses you deeply. You are what he's been looking for his whole life. He's found a home in you, just as you've found one in him.

From then on you're a tribe of two, until the children come along. All four of them are beautiful, with dark hair and dark skin and their daddy's eyes like the sky. You build a life for yourselves beyond the borders of the war. It will continue to rage for a while longer. Eventually, the white man will win and the Kiowa will be driven from their own lands. But for now, for now you have Pacer, and that's more than you could've ever hoped for.

******

The End

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

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @aliypop @your-nanas-house @rjmartin11 @tacozebra051 @joshuntildawn13 @deniseinmn @pebbles403 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @louisejoy86 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @from-memphis-with-love

[hauntedwitch04]

can you please do a plus size reader insecure with dean winchester?

Perfect

Dean Winchester x plus size!Reader 

Words: about 2.1k words 

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy times since we are talking about Dean so they are obviously there.

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea and I hope you like how it came out!

p.s. I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. Ever since I was a little girl, I was never a very skinny kid, and on more than one occasion I was teased by my classmates when I was in middle school, so I let myself go and put a little bit of me in the one-shot.

Always remember that it is normal to have good days and bad days, but the important thing is not to let the bad days have it. Keep fighting until the end, because losing a battle does not matter, what is important is to win the war. Everyone is perfect and beautiful in their own way, and your body does not define the person you are.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

You look at that slice of cake for the umpteenth time, and you can't help but hear that voice in your head again, evil, whispering all your lifelong insecurities.

Dean has been talking to a girl at the counter for a few minutes, and you can't help but notice how thin she is compared to you, how beautiful she is by the standards society imposes today, standards you have never respected.

You were never a very skinny girl, in fact from a very young age you had your curves, but that never appeared to be a problem until that obnoxious part of your life where children grow up and become teenagers, and that makes them bad there.

For the first time you realized at the age of eleven that your physique was different from the other girls near you, and for the first time you felt different, and that feeling you know deep down never went away.

You tried a thousand diets, and just as many exercises to lose weight, but it almost seemed as if your body didn't want to, so you learned to live with your body. In the beginning it was not easy, you had to face many battles, some you won and some you lost, but somehow your bitter enemy, the figure that is reflected in the mirror every morning, watching you live, judging all the actions you do, is always with you and you cannot get rid of it.

When you first met Dean you were sure that he would not give you a second glance, and that in the event nothing more than a simple friendship would arise as much as you were attracted to the attractive hunter, but against all expectations, only after a few months of knowing you he asked you out and confessed that he was madly in love with you, and that he could no longer live a second of his life. It had been such a strange moment: he was going on and on about all the romantic movies, books, and TV series he had seen himself during that time to find the perfect way to tell you everything he felt and that he finally did it in the bathroom of a movie theater after you had been attacked by a demon while watching a movie; on the contrary, you had remained silent the whole time, wondering how such a handsome, kind, funny, caring, and any other positive adjective in the human vocabulary, man could feel anything for you.

You had realized you were stuck, when waking up from that transe state you had seen him looking at you frightened, and you couldn't help but ask him, with tears in your eyes, "Why me, you could have anyone you want? Why should you only want me, you deserve better." You say sobbing, trying to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him the inner struggle you were fighting all the time with the same voice that is bringing you down today. He had taken your chin in one of his strong hands, made you lift your face and looked straight into your eyes. In those big green eyes you felt as if you could see a meadow in which you could run free of all thought, free to be whoever you wanted to be, and that is what Dean is to you after all, a safe haven in which to seek comfort.

"I want you, and you alone. And already that is a selfish thought, because love, if anyone does not deserve the other it is me, because you are perfect and I am everything but perfect, and I know you deserve so much better, and yet I am selfish and I cannot help but love you and want you to be mine and only mine." Said the man in front of you before kissing you. Immediately you melted like ice cream in the sun in his arms, and you returned the kiss with all the passion and eagerness you were willing to let him know that his feelings were reciprocated. His warm, fleshy lips on yours moved to the rhythm of a dance that only you seemed to know. After a few minutes we parted, needing to breathe again, but both of you had two silly smiles on your faces, of two people stupidly in love with each other, unable to hide it from the world for a second longer. "I have Jane Austen and her Mr. Darcy to thank next time I see her in heaven. Or was it in hell?" Whispered Dean chucklingly before resting his forehead on yours.

"Winchester, we would have a demon to exorcise in the other room." You reminded him, laughing at his earlier statement, before punching him lightly in the chest. "And don't ever make fun of Jane Austen again, I love her books and I won't let you do that." You continued, pretending to give him a dirty look.

"Why do you think I read them?" He replied, winking at you before leaving the room to go deal with the demon, whom you had almost forgotten about.

A voice suddenly brings you back to reality. You look up from the pie in front of you and see Sam's worried eyes trying to decipher your thoughts, which, like a hurricane, are flowing fast in your eyes, too fast to be understood.

"Hey, are you okay?" The smallest Winchester asks you, with a tugged smile, as if you had forgotten how to smile and he wanted to help you learn it again. You then try to smile back at him and nod, not having the heart to tell him that today the battle in the mirror between you and your reflection was won by the mirror, and that as of this morning you feel like crap emotionally, because you feel like crap about your own body.

"I'm just tired, and I'm not very hungry. I think I'll give it to Dean, after all, he's always happy to have a little extra cake." You say trying to be convincing. In fact, it's been about five days since you've really been able to put anything under your teeth, after seeing a girl flirting with Dean in a bar in the town of your last case. Dean had immediately declined the girl's attentions, saying that he was committed to you and loved you, but a self-defense mechanism had sort of been triggered in your brain, telling you that if you didn't want to lose the only person you'd ever really loved in the world, you had to lose weight, and so you started not eating, obviously in secret from Dean.

The lack of food in your stomach has also brought you immense fatigue, in fact you don't even realize that you have left the diner and are now in the car from how foggy your brain is. As soon as you sit in Baby's seat, sleep takes over your body, so much so that you don't even feel Dean pick you up and carry you inside to your motel room. You awaken hours later on the bed you and Dean have been sharing since you arrived in this town, but neither he nor Sam can be seen.

Slowly you get up and drag yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light and immediately a figure is revealed to you in the mirror. You don't even look like yourself anymore, your skin is white and emaciated, so much so that it looks like that of a ghost; the black circles under your eyes are more pronounced than usual, and an immense sadness shines through your eyes, yet you can't help but be happy to see that your face looks slightly slimmer than it did a couple of days ago. Bitter tears run down your face knowing that being happy about that thing is not right, and that what you are doing is not good for your health, yet you cannot stop that little voice in your head from speaking.

Suddenly you hear the bathroom door open and see before you the frightened and confused face of your boyfriend, who looks at you shocked, seeing the tears on your face. Quickly he approaches you, asking if you are hurt and taking your face in his hands. You try hard to pull away from him, but you are not strong enough. You don't want him to feel your impefect body, he doesn't deserve it, yet he continues to hold you in his arms, while a hand gently strokes your back, trying to calm you down.

"Love, what's going on? Why are you crying? What can I do to help you?" Dean whispers to you, in turn with tears ready to run down his cheeks not knowing how he can take away the pain you are feeling so intensely.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm really sorry. I've tried, but I can't." You sob, against his shoulder, stopping fighting him and letting yourself go into his embrace.

"What did you try to do love?" The elder Winchester asks with a veil of fear.

"I tried to be a better girlfriend, I tried to lose weight, but I can't. The voice is right, I don't deserve you, I never deserved you. I don't know how you can really love someone like me." You continue crying, falling to your knees, accompanied by his strong arms, as he follows you, also kneeling on the floor. Your figures seem to merge in this embrace, as you tell him of all your insecurities, of the evil voice that dwells within you and hinders your every hope for happiness, and how these days you have preferred to starve yourself in order to be a girl worthy of being seen at Dean Winchester's side. He listens to you in silence, as tears furrow his face and fall silently on your hair, since he has his chin resting on top of your head, while you hide your face in his chest seeking the comfort of his heartbeat and his scent as you open your soul to him on the motel floor of a godforsaken town.

When you're done, you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your heart lighten, and uncertainly you look into Dean's eyes and see his sadness, and immediately feel guilty knowing that you are the cause of that feeling. In a moment as if he is reading your mind, however, he immediately stops you and reassures you.

"Love, first of all, the next time you hear this voice or these feelings inside you, don't hesitate and come to me right away, because I love you and I don't want to see you suffer like this and you know that I am always there for you, no matter what, even if you just have to ask me why the color blue is blue at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, I am always there for you, I am your love slave." Says the hunter, kissing the last tears streaming down my face. "And secondly, you don't have to change in any possible universe, because you in each of them are perfect as you are. There is not one thing about you that I don't love madly: your hair, your eyes, your intelligence, your laugh, your body-oh God don't get me started on how your body drives me crazy, because believe me I could start a new religion just to worship you as the goddess you are. Every day I have to hold myself back from kissing every inch of your body, from screaming to the world that you are mine, that the best woman in the world is in love with me, and I still don't understand how that is possible. There is not one thing you do that is not perfect in my eyes, and even now I still think that never on earth and in heaven has there been a more perfect being than you, so please don't ever again believe what your brain tells you and believe me." He continues, as he looks into your eyes. You have never felt so loved in your life. The only thing you want to do is thank him, but no words come out of your mouth, so you kiss him, showing him how you feel about him. Slowly Dean gets up, taking you in his arms, not breaking the kiss. Only when you reach the front of the bed and he drops you on it, your lips part and he says a few words.

"I would say it's time to prove that I wasn't joking when I said I would found a religion just to worship your body."

And boy was he not joking.

[deusvervewrites]

I Think I Know Why I Dislike Bakugou's Writing

Yes I know I just did the AFO/Asano Meta, but I feel like I need to do this too

To clarify: this is not me bashing on Bakugou. I want to like Bakugou. If you like Bakugou, you aren't wrong. You just deserve better for him.

Let's begin.

For at least a week now, I have had a picture open in a tab on my browser. This picture is something that I was beginning to think was made up by an Ao3 author because I had only ever seen one mention of it. And now that I've found it for myself, I found myself holding on to it and trying to figure out how to feel about it.

But now that's led to me finally having a way to verbalize the issues I have with how Bakugou has been written throughout the series.

On paper, Bakugou has one of the most interesting character arcs in manga. He goes from being a self-absorbed asshole with a superiority-inferiority complex who only wants to be a Hero because they win fights to the genuinely Hero Midoriya believes he can be.

In practice... well.

Let's play a game really quickly. I'll describe a scene from My Hero Academia, and I want you to guess what chapter it is. It doesn't have to be exact, just a general idea. Here's the scenario:

Midoriya manages to use a Quirk that's destructive to him without seriously hurting himself, and is proud of this accomplishment. In response, Bakugou gets incensed and physically attacks him.

Thought about it? Got an idea? Keep that in mind for later.

So here is my issue with Bakugou: there are two Bakugous. I know that sounds weird but let me explain what I mean. I'll call them Interim Bakugou and Dramatic Bakugou.

Dramatic Bakugou saw his classmates at the Battle Trial and realized that he wasn't the Big Man on Campus. He was furious with Todoroki for not using his fire at the Sports Festival, and infuriated by his internship with Best Jeanist. Dramatic Bakugou was kidnapped by the League because he's an asshole. He blames himself for All Might retiring, and he failed the Provisional License Exam because he's a asshole. Dramatic Bakugou told a kid that he needed to acknowledge his own weakness, took a hit for Midoriya in the War Arc, and apologized to him.

Dramatic Bakugou is improving as a person and a Hero.

Dramatic Bakugou also barely appears in the manga.

We are instead left with Interim Bakugou, the Bakugou who exists in the interim between dramatic moments. Interim Bakugou has not changed from his first appearance on the first page of Chapter 1, when he was five, beating the shit out of Midoriya.

Interim Bakugou tried to attack Midoriya on Day 1, and tried to kill him on Day 2. Interim Bakugou listened in on a private conversation about how Endeavor's obsessions broke him and learned nothing. Interim Bakugou told the League of Villains that he wouldn't join them because he likes how Heroes look when they win. Interim Bakugou told the Help Us Company actors to fuck off. Interim Bakugou dragged Midoriya out to Ground Beta to beat the shit out of him because he was butthurt about his exam and making it all about him. Interim Bakugou won the Joint Training Battle because he wanted to be the Undisputed Best. Interim Bakugou never calls people by their real names.

Interim Bakugou called himself Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Interim Bakugou told the class that Deku is fucked in the head and doesn't care about what happens to himself, while ignoring that he called Midoriya 'Useless' so often Midoriya responds to it like his own name. Interim Bakugou uses Deku right up to the moment that Dramatic Bakugou apologized for inventing it in the first place.

Interim Bakugou never changes, no mater how much Dramatic Bakugou tries.

Here, let me prove it. You remember that game I had you play a few paragraphs ago, yes? What chapter did you say? Chapter 7, during the Quirk Apprehension Test?

Well, I have to admit that I lied a little. That picture I've had on my browser for the past week or so? It's actually a screencap of the manga.

This is from Chapter 253, after Midoriya shows his progress with Blackwhip.

This is five chapters away from the start of the War Arc.

This is 69 chapters before he apologizes, most of which aren't focused on him at all.

This is within the Final Saga, as Horikoshi puts it.

And Interim Bakugou is indistinguishable from Orientation Day eleven months ago

I will freely admit that this is clearly meant to be a joke, and that he did not hurt Midoriya as severely as the class is acting, but the behavior is still there. It hasn't changed a bit. Interim Bakugou hasn't changed a bit.

Dramatic Bakugou, in a flashback, confessed to All Might that he used to bully Midoriya.

Interim Bakugou still does.

This is why I don't like how Horikoshi writes Bakugou. I want to like Dramatic Bakugou and follow his journey, but for every step forward he takes, Interim Bakugou takes two steps back. All of his apologies feel hollow because Interim Bakugou is demonstrably the same.

And that's why his apology rings hollow. Here's a transcript of it from my fan translation of choice:

Do you remember what I told you after Shigaraki stabbed me? (...) "Don't even think about winning this alone!" After yelling that out, my body moved on its own, and I was impaled. Yet I knew that I had to tell you those words.

I always looked down on you, just because you were Quirkless. You were always far away behind me, yet, I felt that you were somehow miles ahead of me. I hated that. I didn't want to feel like that. And I didn't want to recognize that. It's why I grew so distant from you and always tried to beat you down.

I opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you. But I always lost. After entering UA absolutely nothing went as I thought it would. I spent all my days trying to figure out your strengths and weaknesses.

It probably doesn't mean anything telling you all this but that's what I really think. Izuku... I'm sorry for everything I've done up until now.

The path you took as a successor of One For All is exactly what All Might did. Your choices weren't misguided at all. But as of now, you can barely stand on your own. Your ideals alone can only take you so far. If you ever encounter a road bump, you can always count on us for help. To surpass All Might, your ideal Hero, we would all have to protect UA and the civilians in there together. It's the only way.

There are three parts to an apology.

You have to be sorry for the harm you caused. Bakugou says that he is.

You have to understand how you hurt them. Bakugou... acknowledges that he "grew distant" and "beat Midoriya down."

You have to either ask how to make it right, or promise never to cause that harm again. Bakugou... promises that they'll all surpass All Might.

Though I will give him credit for acknowledging the protection of civilians, good job Dramatic Bakugou.

Dramatic Bakugou seemingly can't apologize for Interim Bakugou, because Interim Bakugou isn't sorry. Interim Bakugou is the same as always.

So the truth is that I love Dramatic Bakugou's character arc, and I hate Interim Bakugou for not having one

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

I have a Hazbin Hotel request :} pretty please

What about Sir Pentious x gn reader (platonic or romantic idc) where they're both rivals and fighting, but somehow find out that they've both ended up in the Hazbin Hotel at the same time...

omg! yes! i feel like i hardly ever see sir pentious stuff and he is so sweet. he definitely deserves more love and i hope i did this justice!

rating: PG

genre: fluffy-ish (just some bants and not really angsty)

characters: Sir Pentious x Reader (platonic but could be seen as a prelude to romance)

warnings: talk of turf wars, and use of the word fuck

You had finally gained ground on the terf war that was happening when Sir Pentious finally left, claiming he had a bigger and stronger enemy to lay siege to.

Your eyes rolled at that, but it wasn’t long until you were overwhelmed when a new team came in and wiped the area. You knew when to cut your losses so you left, angry that you had to retreat and loose that footing. You shook your head relaizing you didn’t have a place to sleep or anything when you passed by a store playing the radio and an ad came on talking about the Hazbin Hotel.

‘It’s not too far from here.’ You thought and started heading that way. It’s not like you bought into the whole redemption idea, but if it got you a bed for a while, what the hell. You finally come up to the door and knock. Surprised when the Radio Demon opens the door.

“A new patron, I assume?” He says.

“Ummm, yes?” You say, phrasing it more of a question. He lets you in and who you find out to be Charlie Morningstar bounds up to you and starts to get you checked in. You finally have your key and walk over to the bar, asking for a whiskey, neat, when you hear a gasp.

“My greatest foe! Has come to find me here. You wish to try and best me again in Battle!” You look straight ahead, not believing this.

“You have to be joking. You’re here too?” You ask as Husk slides you your drink.

“I am! You must have been searching for me I imagine! But I must disappoint you, I no longer do battle! My combat days are behind me, for I’ve turned over a new leaf.” Pentious explains.

“Well, it’s not like your villainy career was really workin’ out for ya Pents.” You say and sip your drink. “I can see why you’d retire old man.” You taunt him.

“I am not old! I think I am just two years older than you!” He exclaims, actually looking offended.

“2 years, 2 hours, 2 minutes… Still older. And since you are older, you could never beat me in combat so, I guess age isn’t everything is it snakey?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“Oh if I had my death ray right now…” Pentious says, absolutely seething.

“You’d what? Have it break down in the middle of the field and scream as others come at you with knives?” You say, referencing one time when Pentious’s invention failed on the field and it ended up in a disaster for him.

“IT WAS ONE TIME!” He exclaims.

“It only took one time too and I was able to claim that territory for myself.” You say smug.

“Where’s your territory now, hmmm? You wouldn’t be here if you had won.” Pentious says, sliding up to the bar, smirking.

“Fuck you.” You glare at him.

“I win!” He exclaims as he leaves, calling for his eggs so they may go to sleep.

“Good night to everyone except my mortal enemy, Y/N. I hope you DON’T have a good night.” He says at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” You yell. Angel hears and adds on, “That the only action he’d be able to get!”

“Cheers to that!” You hold your cup up to Angel.

Charlie and Vaggie look at each other. “I think tomorrow may need to have two lessons on building friendships and talking to each other nicely.” Charlie says.

“Maybe throw in a ‘how to be friends when we were enemies in a turf war’ too.” Vaggie adds. Watching the lobby and taking in all the patrons.

“We have a lot of work to do then!” Charlie says dragging Vaggie to the board to plan out the next days activities with their new guest.

[sailorshadzter]

just some random jonsa for your dashboards <3

The war bells echo in his mind, long after they’ve fallen silent. 

There is a stillness to the air, a frighteningly eerie sense of discomfort as he stands there, surveying the battlefield. 

In the end, they’ve won, but he must wonder: at what cost? 

King’s Landing is in ruin, Daenerys had certainly seen to that; there was almost nothing left of the once bustling city and what remained was covered in a thick layer of ash. Through the broken glass of the Red Keep windows, he watches as the smallfolk who survived search through the rubble for their families, their friends, their possessions. He watches with sorrow in his heart, his chest tight with the pain, wishing there had been another way. Wishing with all of his might that it could have ended any other way but this one. 

Across the way, a door opens and he turns at the sound of it, unable to help but to smile at the figure approaching him. Just like that, his reason for everything appears when he needs her the most. She wears a gown of gray damask, something far lighter than she’s ever worn in his presence before, but her hair is still styled as it always was, braids and long flowing locks. “I wondered where you’d gone off to,” she says by way of greeting, her rosy lips curving with a smile. “Are you alright?” She asks, softer now, noticing the darkness that clings to him almost at once. 

He turns away, to face the melted puddle that was once the Iron Throne, imagining how it had been just a few short weeks ago, with Daenerys dead on the floor at his feet and the dragon roaring his displeasure. He does not regret what he did to her that day, in truth, he regrets not doing it sooner- perhaps then the innocent people of King’s Landing could have been spared. “Jon…” Her voice is in his ear, her hand reaching for his, her presence warm as she closes the gap between them. A sigh escapes him as he leans into her, relishing in the way it feels when she slips her arms around his waist, her cheek pressing into his shoulder. “Tell me…” 

“I just can’t help but think of them…” He admits softly, his mind returning to the hellish screams he had to endure, the sight of innocent children slaughtered by the dothraki in the streets below the Red Keep. “If only I had acted sooner…. If I’d done even just one thing differently…” Regret seeps into his bones and turns him cold, the memory of it all almost too much to bear. “I might have saved lives instead of…” He cannot even stand to say the words he’s thinking. 

To his surprise, she’s letting him go, but only so she might force him to turn around, her blue eyes bright in the sunlight streaming in through the broken window. “What happened here isn’t your fault, Jon.” She says sharply, though she reaches for his hands as she speaks. “You did what you thought was best to protect us…” Everything Jon did she knew it was for her, for Arya, for Bran, and for the North. “It’s true, your reign here has begun with bloodshed, but that doesn’t have to define it.” She thinks of all this man has done- every battle, every step, every wound… It’s all been done for someone else, for someone he loved. Even this crown he now must wear he only wears because it was best for the realm. “Show the people of King’s Landing that you intend to protect them just as you’ve always protected us.” 

Her words stir something within him and he’s squeezing her hands back, leaning forward so he might press a kiss to her forehead; a lingering touch that leaves her warm down to her very soul. “Thank you, Sansa,” he murmurs as he draws away, but she keeps him close, her lips hovering dangerously close to his. They’ve been here before, too many times to count, and he wonders just when one of them might take the plunge. 

“Your grace?”

They spring apart at once, she blushing to the very roots of her hair, looking down at the floor as Jon clears his throat. It’s Tyrion there, certainly coming to fetch him for the council meeting he’s now late for. “Apologies for interrupting,” the imp continues with a knowing look on his face, but Jon dismisses him with a quick wave of his hand. “The others are waiting for you to begin.” 

Jon is nodding now, taking a single step away from Sansa where she stands, but he turns back a moment later. “Come with me,” he says when she’s looking up again, cheeks still stained pink. “My council could use the wise words of the Queen in the North.” She’s grinning now, nodding before she loops her arm through his, falling into step at his side just as they once did within the walls of Winterfell. Tyrion watches them go, like a young couple in love, wondering just when they might realize it for themselves. 

He thinks how splendid it would be to host a wedding feast in these walls someday, one which would be celebrated for ages to come, one which would usher in a new age of peace. An age of peace which Westeros has perhaps never truly seen before. 

It would be a love story that they would speak of for centuries, if only the two of them would just figure it out.

And so, he follows after them, laughing to himself and feeling far more hopeful than he’s felt in many years.

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #2 Ging (HxH)

He finds you annoying (at first)

Can’t begin to fathom how he got stuck with you

Or why

Ging, the boar-ish man who’s an absolute ass, stuck with an idiot who can’t take hints?????

“Go away.”

“Ooohhh on a trip!!???? Where we heading.”

And then you look at him with those puppy dog eyes and he gives up.

“Bother someone else.”

“But you’re my friend???”

He may be completely stuck with you, but he will not baby you

You tripped?

Don’t be a baby, get up

You’re cutting with the wrong end of a knife?

Figure it out yourself

Lost your way home?

Good

He does classify you as harmless after he’s gotten used to your presence

But then he sees you fight and his perspective changes big time

He’d gotten himself into trouble, as Ging does, with a couple of angry goons

Now Ging could take care of himself perfectly fine. (He’s just lazy and doesn’t like to put in any effort)

But to you, your stinky little rat friend was cornered 🥺

Poor little buddy was gonna get pummeled

So you stepped in with your nen

And it was a sight to see

“Collapse.” One word and your aura had overwhelmed the enemies.

Not even one punch, just one word and you’d won

He lets you stick around without complaints after that

But only on the condition that you’d fight his battles from then on

He’s a goblin, the same man who left his son for 12 years. Is he not supposed to use your surprising strength to his advantage???

“Y/n, Pariston is being mean.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass!!!!”

You become known as his guard dog, much to Ging’s delight

It means less people bother him

It also means he gets to bring you in on Zodiac meetings

“I won’t go if they’re not allowed in.”

Will not change his mind

You make things more amusing and less boring.

The others don’t mind (except for Pariston)

In fact, Cheadle prefers having an unbiased and unintimidated party to hash out ideas to.

Ging has absolutely no clue he likes you until you leave for your own hunter business

You’d be gone for a month and he’d be alone with his thoughts

No sound of breaking objects

No constant buzzing from his phone (you and kite being the only people who had his number)

And no idiotic ramblings

It was too quiet without you

And it didn’t seem like you to be completely no contact

So little by little he began to worry

What if you were hurt somewhere?

What if you were being tortured somewhere?

What if you had just decided to stay gone?

You hadn’t gotten fed up with him, had you?

He decided to find you

Not because he missed you, what you’re crazy, he would never 🙄🙄🙄

It was because you probably got stuck somewhere and needed his help

And he had nothing better else to do

That was it!!!

He searched everywhere for you

Everywhere

But there wasn’t a trace of your nen

Was this what Gon was going through????

Man he owed that kid an apology when he found him

But that wasn't important right now, you were missing

You were a blacklist hunter so the possibility of you being dead was certain

However, as he checked into a shitty hotel after yet another day of looking for you, he could sense someone was following him.

It wasn't wise to track one of the best hunters in the world

An even worse choice to track one that was already pissed

"Just tell me what you want and get it over with." He was surprised to find himself engulfed in a hug

Then a very familiar voice filled the space

"Ging!!!! I missed you!!!!"

It was you

You were okay

You were alive

Of course you were, he'd seen you take out an entire group with just one word

Why the hell had he been worried???

He pushed your face away with one hand, a pout on his face.

"What did I say about touching."

You begrudgingly let go

"Fine. But what did I say about showering."

Doesn't let you leave by yourself anymore after that

"But Ging, I need to get paid. It'll just be for a few weeks"

"And I told you not by yourself. Last time I let you go alone you had a bounty on your head."

Calls you puppy or pup

Why?

Because you follow him around like a golden retriever

Doesn't let anyone else call you that

Will and has fought them

Doesn't like to engage with Pariston, but loves it when you do

"Oh, looks like Ging brought around his little guard dog again."

"What about it rat man?"

"I just think it's unnecessary for a grown man to have somebody else fight his battles."

"You're just jealous that everybody would rather fight you than for you. That and you're a bi-"

"The meeting has begun!"

He absolutely melts when he sees you interact with Gon

Your eyes lit up immediately upon seeing the small boy.

He was sobbing about what happened to Kite when you picked him up and started cooing

"AWWW!!!! ITS A MINI GING!!!"

And Gon stops crying immediately

"Look at how smol he is!!!! Aww precious boi!"

Gon's blushing, embarrassed by your sudden attention

And Ging is staring at the two of you with stars in his eyes.

His family, happy and complete

But he'd die before he'd admit that.

You and Gon get along so well and are constantly keeping each other engaged

Which is great for Ging, who is glad to have a small break from all your energy

But also not great because this immature man still wants all of your attention

Gon may be his son, but Ging found you first 😡

Ging's actually the one who has to ask if you're dating or not

You two spend so much time together

You live together

You refer to Gon as your son

"Are we dating?"

"Haven't we??? For a couple months, right???"

And he goes along with it because why not.

"Just testing you," and gives you a peck on the cheek so you don't suspect anything.

An: The easiest head cannons of my life ngl. His character was so fun to write for.

NEXT UP: Nico Robin

MASTERLIST

[blazehedgehog]

Do you agree with Gaming Journalists and what do you think of gaming journalism in general?

What does this even mean, dude.

"Do you agree with gaming journalists"? On what?

Do I agree with Shacknews that Super Mario Bros. Wonder is a 10/10, and with Digital Spy that it's also a 7/10? Do I agree with Let's Clear Up Those Halo Battle Royale Rumors?

Like, I've gotten some bait on this blog before, but this is 2/10 stuff, man. This is some hot 2014 garbage. Like no matter what I say, you're gonna go all

"Very interesting. Then do you care to explain why..." No thanks.

My real answer: Something I learned during my time at TSSZ and being around a few people who were deeper into "the biz" than I is that everybody needs journalism more than they realize. Corporations are pushing for consumers to become their personal cheerleaders more than ever before, which makes criticism and the journalistic exposing of information seem villainous.

After all: Xbox is my friend now, so how dare you attack the Xbox. Behavior that used to be reserved for the most dedicated fanboys is now the expected room temperature. I've talked about "The Cult of Naughty Dog" before, and that's the same thing. If a corporation can get you to be parasocial with them, then they have won, and being parasocial with a corporation means shunning real investigative journalism that would otherwise undo them. Journalists and critics used to be marketing tools, but by undoing the press pipeline and talking directly to fans, journalists and critics are painted as untrustworthy for being wildcards that don't always toe the company line.

And there has been more than a decade of people with a "I choose to be stupid and ignorant on purpose" outlook, which just makes that more frustrating. We've all seen screencaps where some brainless rando tries to explain something to a person who is an expert in that field. The rando thinks they're flexing their brain, but in some cases they are arguing with the person who literally wrote the book on their topic of conversation. Some people don't want to know anything but still pretend like they know everything, when there are real people out there doing real work to uncover real truths.

Misinformation is the real problem. It should not surprise anyone that there are people out there deliberately eroding the foundation of journalistic integrity, because the less people trust journalism, the easier it is to get away with lying. The easier it is to lie, the easier it is to control the mainstream, the easier it is to scam people out of their money, so on and so forth.

And misinformation is more than just "this one news article is fake." There are long running campaigns to install people into news organizations themselves to publish false information for all manner of different goals, but it's all the same: nobody trusts anyone and it's making everyone dumber.

That's when we get crypto currency. And NFTs. And now people claiming that generative AI will save humanity. Grift after grift after grift where the people at the top of the snake oil food chain make off with billions of dollars while the rest of the world is left scratching their heads.

The law isn't going to catch them. If they do, it'll take years. Look at how long it took for Sam Bankman-Fried to get caught -- he operated for almost half an entire decade. The amount of damage somebody can get away with in five years is significant.

We need journalism. Real journalism. Good journalism. Watchdogs that keep an eye on things and blow the whistle when it goes bad. Somebody to enforce accountability that isn't a cop.

Where do you find that? That's the hardest question. I'm lucky enough that I know people I trust because they are long time friends, or friends of friends, and thus they've been properly vetted in my circle as The Real Deal. But there are a lot of outlets out there who claim to champion "truth" and "intelligence" in a way to prey upon insecurity. I mean, c'mon, Trump's social media platform is called "Truth Social" and is basically the furthest thing from the truth you will ever get from anyone, ever.

The more obsessively they try to convince you they're telling the truth, the less likely it is they actually are. Which in itself could be an attack meant to undo the foundations of trust in people who actually know what they're talking about. By casting doubt on the very concept of truth itself, they can lie with increasingly greater efficiency.

Any advice I give feels like it is incredibly circumstantial. Which is the point, and is why we're in the state we're in.

Here's a good pdf by The News Literacy Project that's probably a good place to start. The general gist is "you'll have to do a lot of fact checking for yourself" but that's unfortunately where we're at these days.

But by and large I would say life is a lot harder for real journalists right now than I think some of their critics have ever thought about. There are people out there trying to do actual good work and being a bubble-brained moron about it just makes everything harder for everyone.

[dangermousie]

Pre-Joseon Sageuks: a Biased and Incomplete List

So, as promised way earlier, a post on pre-Joseon sageuks that I’ve either watched or plan to watch so am aware of them. I am sure there are others but here is what I got. Obviously my takes on them are subjective blah blah blah.

Jumong - arguably the Daddy of all Traditional Sageuks, this one ran for over 80 episodes and had insane ratings. It follows the rise of the mythical founder of Gogureyo tho it takes fantastical elements of his story and changes them for historically plausible ones. It’s very long and very meaty and politics/battle heavy and has a large cast of complex characters (including pretty nifty women and a LGBTQ supporting OTP) but it is anchored by the incredible performance of Song Il Gook as the titular character as he slowly but believably grows from nothing to a hero if at the cost of losing his marriage.

The King of Tears Lee Bang Won - this is basically a half and half beast as (you can tell by the title), it’s set in the last days of Goryeo and early days of Joseon. The time period covered is the same as in My Country and Six Flying Dragons, but this is the most traditional take of them all, even more so than 6FD. Not a single pretty face in the cast (tho Joo Sang Wook is a mighty fine man, emphasis on “man”), this is for the real fans of traditional sageuks. I enjoyed it a lot but if you want to check out pre-Joseon sageuks but have mainly watched youth sageuk stuff before, you should probably start with another drama on this list.

The Great Seer - set in the reign of King Gongmin, the last proper king of Goryeo (his son King U is technically the very last but there are questions as to his status), this is for those of you who want to watch Ji Sang in a sageuk. It’s centered around seers but don’t expect mysticism, this knuckles down to politics.

Shin Don - hi there, another story set in the reign of King Gongmin! From the title, you can tel it centers heavily on the powerful monk who ruled for the King at one point. This has been on my to-watch list forever because this appears to devote a decent chunk of its time to Gongmin X Noguk and I am dying for a proper drama for those two. This is from 2005 so if you do watch, keep that in mind in terms of visuals etc. That cast is lit!

Bicheonmu - this is sort of cheating because it’s pretty much set in China but it involves Koreans so. It’s a drama take on the same story told in a pretty awesome movie. Tragic love, battles, young Joo Jin Moo etc. i am very fond of it. This said, find and watch the Chinese version, Korean one was shredded.

The Iron Empress/Empress Cheon Chu - set in Goryeo, this was another of women ruler centric dramas that had a mini popularity peak in late 00s/early 10s (a trend I wish continued.) it got overshadowed by Queen Seonduk but by all accounts is a solid drama. It’s on my list but I haven’t watched it yet.

The King’s Daughter, Soo Baek Hyang - by the writer of The Rebel and My Dearest. Have I got your attention? Another woman centric ruler tale set in Baekje. Yes, there is a love story. That cast is great, to boot. I have started and liked what I’ve seen but got sidetracked. Need to get back to it. Before you look at the ep number and faint seeing the number 108, keep in mind that the eps are half an hour long so it’s an equivalent of a normal 54 ep sageuk so if you can watch eg Empress Ki, you are good with this.

My Country: The New Age - Lee Bang Won but make it gay. OK, I kid, sort of (not really) but this is smart and passionate and heartbreaking. If you want a wide scope or lots of politics, probably not a take for you (Six Flying Dragons is RIGHT there), but if you want an intense, emotional tale, come right in!

Six Flying Dragons - to me, this is THE drama about Lee Bang Won. It’s smart and emotional, deals with politics and has heart. It has a large cast of characters I got invested in, OTPs that will blow your mind etc etc.

Faith/The Great Doctor - if you are a fan of old school shoujo like Red River, Basara or Fushigi Yuugi, this or Moon Lovers are your best bet on this list. A time traveling tale with other fantasy elements about a modern day plastic surgeon who ends up being kidnapped into Goryeo during the early days of King Gongmin’s (hi!) reign by a tormented, oath bound warrior played by Lee Min Ho at his hottest (and playing historical General Choi Young. Do RPS at your pleasure), this one is one of my all time favorites.

Seodonyo/Ballad of Seo Dong - I am actually currently watching this one tho I haven’t been posting about it. Set in both Baekje and Silla, this is an angsty love story with a side of politics. It’s filmed in 2005 and looks accordingly but if you don’t mind dated visuals, this is pretty great!

Emperor of the Sea - set in Silla and Tang, this was a huge hit and deservedly so. Our protag is a slave and gladiator and a great naval hero. This is grim and smart and epic. It’s from 2004 so once again, if dated visuals are no-go, skip, but if you want a great story and performances, this has your name on it.

The Kingdom of the Winds - an epic cursed prince narrative, our ML (Song Il Gook at his sexiest) rises from abandoned prince and slave and abused assassin to general, royal and king, sparing time for an angsty delicious love story with an enemy princess. This has serious sageuk bits AND the best shoujo tropes in the business, plus enough whump to keep anyone happy.

Gye Baek - Lee Seo Jin, another sageuk stalwart, stars as the title character in this tale of a Baekje commoner, war slave and general. This is grim but glorious.

Soldier/God of War - this is a traditional war-centric sageuk and grim as hell. Another slave to general tale.

King Geun Chu Go - this is on my watch list; it’s about a warrior king of Baekje. Haven’t seen it but heard good things.

Ja Myung Go - smart and unrelentingly tragic, featuring Jang Ryeo Won and Jung Kyung Ho as doomed lovers and Park Min Young in an evil role, this is great and has deeply flawed characters in the very definition of doomed by the narrative tale.

Arthdal Chronicles - this is obviously a fantasy but the tale of prophesied twins, magical priestess, wars and mysticism is clearly set in a pre-Joseon in terms of aesthetics world.

Alchemy of Souls - like Arthdal this is pure fantasy but also like Arthdal, a lot of its styling is pre-Joseon so on this list it goes.

Moon Lovers/Scarlet Heart Ryeo - ok I think if people have heard of only one drama on this very long list, it’s probably this one. Modern time traveling heroine ending up during the reign of Goryeo’s King Taejo, in the middle of his sons’ fight for the throne, having an epic but doomed romance with shoujo catnip tortured bad boy Lee Jun Ki.

Shine or Go Crazy - if you want a more historical take on Moon Lovers succession fight but still with plenty of hotness, angst and doomed romance, come right in. This baby stars Jang Hyuk, so you know it’s bound to be good. I actually started it and enjoyed it but got sidetracked. Need to get back to it. Fun fact: while Moon Lovers was hugely popular internationally, domestically Shine or Go Crazy (they aired around the same time), did much better.

The Legend/The First King’s Four Gods - for a long time this was my favorite kdrama of all time and is still probably in my top 10. Ignore the odd first episode, the rest is perfection. Expensive and wonderfully written, this was Bae Yong Joon’s last drama before he retired to rest on his pile of money (if you are young, you probably don’t remember what a big deal he was, bigger than all the Hallyu stars nowadays put together. He basically was singlehandedly supporting the kdrama industry at one point), but what a worthy way to go out. It’s an epic Goguryeo fantasy tale of a prophesied prince coming into his own, with such amazing characters and relationships and OTPs and battles and points about destiny versus free will. It is everything and I kinda want to rewatch now.

The Blade and The Petal/Sword and Flower - ostensibly a star-crossed Gogureyo love story, this really is more about politics. It’s a mixed bag. The visuals are insane but Uhm Tae Woong, while always solid in modern dramas, is out of place in a sageuk (in QSD Kim Nam Gil stole his thunder; there is nobody to do so here but that doesn’t help him.)

Queen Seon Duk - probably the most famous entrant into female power sageuks, this was a mad hit and centered on the titular character’s rise to power and fight for the same with her female nemesis Mishil. If you want love stories, angsty fighter Bidam propelled Kim Nam Gil to stardom as he stole the leading man mantle from Uhm Tae Woong.

Empress Ki - currently rewatching this. It’s set in the waning days of Goryeo but takes place mainly in Yuan. Still, the FL is Korean and a lot of the story revolves around one of her suitors’, a deposed Korean king, attempts to get his land back. As you can tell by my rabid posts, this is a great drama - politics, romance (I ship FL and the Yuan emperor like mad), murder, dysfunction and everything good.

Hwarang - it’s so brain dead it might as well be a brain-eating amoeba in drama form but it did give us both Park Hyung Sik and Park Seo Joon before they made it big in drama world. It’s terrible tho, stay away.

River where the Moon Rises - I have such a love/hate relationship with this drama - I loved the beginning, with our tormented assassin heroine slowly being warmed by the loyal rustic ML with his own trauma. And then Ji Soo’s bullying scandal happened and he was replaced by Na In Woo, aka the actor I like least from any country in all my close to two decades of watching dramas. I tried but I simply couldn’t and I am still mad. This said, if you don’t share my NIW allergy, it’s probably worth a watch.

The Great King’s Dream - if you liked QSD and can’t get enough of the period but want an even more traditional tale, you can do worse than this drama. I liked what I saw but this baby is 70 eps and lacks Bidam so I peaced out. Maybe I will get back to it sometime, but probably not.

Jeong Do Jeon - as you can tell by the title, centers on JDJ and the last days of Goryeo. Not really my bag (time period been done plenty in other dramas and I don’t have that much interest in JDJ) but supposed to be solid.

My Only Love Song - a short silly mess but still probably better than River (which tells the same story) because it doesn’t have NIW.

King Gwanggaeto the Great - 92 eps. I can’t!

The King Loves - delicious love triangle (that goes ALL ways), angst, prettiness, a side of bodyguard romance. What’s not to love in this Goryeo tale?

ETA: this post was so long that when I tried to tag every drama I mentioned, tumblr told me you hit the tag limit of 30 tags no more tags for you. Oh well, sorry dramas that ended up I tagged!

[topofmythighs]

same soul

sam winchester x gender neutral, plus size reader

rundown: reader has a bad mental health day but sammy is just oh so sweet

word count: 2.5k

their home is cold, even with the autumn heat and chunky knitted blanket thrown over them. the television is playing their favourite show, but the volume is only on five. on the side table beside the couch they’re curled up on, an iced coffee sits - a special order they get only on the days where they absolutely need it.

today was one of those days. it felt like everyone at work needed them, the phone was never hung up, and like their mental well-being drained with every minute that passed by. when they woke up this morning, they hated the way their clothes clung to their body and felt like their pants fit in the most unflattering way possible. today was a day where their bed begged them to crawl back in it, to cry and not feel anything, but their resilience won the battle.

they made themself look as good as they felt like they could look, pushed through the work day, and treated themself to whatever lunch, beverage, and guilty pleasure they craved. this carried through the rest of the evening, hence the special sad day coffee, their favourite show, and the only blanket in the house that still smelled like sam. there were a few of his hoodies that he purposely bought a few sizes bigger so they could comfortably fit into them that still smelled like him, but those were reserved for the nights where nothing helps but him.

fearing that tonight would be one of those nights, they sent a text to him, prefacing it with, “i don’t mean to be annoying,” and hoping that he was close enough to them to convince dean to drop him off for the night.

his reply is lightening fast, and one text turns to a spam just as quickly.

duh

i mean

no

not duh

not duh like ur being annoying

but duh like i will bribe dean w anything if it means i can see u

hopefully i can make tn better

i’ll text u when i’m omw there angel x

a small smile tickles its way onto their face. they never expect anything less than unconditional love from sam, but it’s hard for them to judge how others feel when their own emotions are winding together into a nasty, record breaking hurricane.

unsure of how long the tall, doe-eyed man would be, they leave their warm spot on the couch to get dressed from their work clothes into comfy sweatpants. they text sam quickly, too.

pls don’t show up in anything but relax clothes

u could show up in nothing and i’d also be happy but for tn the dress code is not nudity

just sweatpants and a hoodie pls :)

they fix their hair as best as they can, put on their comfort sweatpants, and slip on their fuzzy slippers. they scan themselves in the mirror, worried they look frumpy and even larger than they already are, but decided not to waste too much time on caring about their insecurities.

they know sam loves them. even if it weren’t for the amount of trust that goes into intimacy with the two, they know sam loves them from the constant reassurance he gives them. it’s hard to not over analyze their body in the mirror, even though they know it doesn’t hold them back from living a beautiful and fulfilling life. they find that their heather grey stanford sweatpants are fitting a little tighter around their thighs than normal and that their tummy is still bloated, but through years of pulling themself from such a negative mindset, they’ve learned nothing good comes from tugging at clothing. they can feel themself become sucked into the obsessive cycle of tearing apart every part of their body, but a text chime refocuses them.

literally two mins away, be there so soon

another smile dawns on their face, a blush accompanying it. it has been so long since they’ve seen sam, both jobs getting in the way of their time together. they run in and out of the bathroom, scrambling to get things together when their doorbell rings. their heart flutters like it always does. they hurry quickly to the door, opening it to find sam standing there in a similar pair of sweatpants and a large hoodie with a tote bag in hand, seemingly very full.

his heart flutters the same way theirs does. he smiles down at them, swiftly sliding into their home and hooking his bag up on the hooks near the outside light switch. he kicks off his unlaced chuck taylor’s and immediately places his hands on their face to kiss them deeply. he’s glad they managed to close the door past his stocky body, but he wouldn’t have been upset if someone saw him and his angel reuniting.

“i missed you,” he mumbles as he pulls away.

their hands are on his elbows as they whisper it back and looking into his glossy eyes. they smile together and kiss again quickly before sitting on the couch under the same chunky knitted blanket as before. he stretches his long legs out onto the ottoman, covering his legs with the blanket, then letting them rest their head on his lap. he plays with their hair, but notices the iced coffee on the side table.

“sad day coffee,” he says, squinting his eyes to read the order to double check. he looks down at them, furrowing his eyebrows. “what’s wrong angel?”

they sigh and grab his hand, bummed that they didn’t think to chug or chuck that. “just not feeling well,” they whisper. “been a bad day up there.” sam frowns, his bottom lip almost jutting out. he’s about to say something before they sit up and interrupt him. “it’s okay,” they say, turning to get up off the couch and grab things from the side table drawer. “i figured we could do some self care stuff together?”

sam notices how apprehensive they are, but also the glimmer in their eyes. he smiles softly. “i’ve never really done self care stuff before, but, uhm, yes, we can do that.”

they smile and kiss him quickly. “look,” they say, pulling a jarred face mask out of the drawer. “a face mask for us. and also nail stuff. thought it would be fun to paint our nails together?”

sam smiles again, taking their hand as they stand beside the couch. “angel, i’ll do whatever you want.”

they smile, kissing him again, then sitting down next to him with everything in their lap. they both adjust so that they’re sitting cross legged facing each other, still able to look into each other’s eyes and kiss.

“face mask first,” they mutter, still quite apprehensive about dragging their boyfriend into this.

sam smiles and watches fondly as their hands open the container, seeing the brown, grainy face mask and smelling the coffee scent from the jar. sam watches his partner intently, mentally tracing every inch of their sweet face. a few freckles here and there, a wrinkle beginning to set in on their forehead, a blemish on their cheek. he studies it all, falling more in love with the person who’d give him the world.

“wait,” they say, pulling sam out of his trance. “need to grab us headbands.”

sam smiles and nods, watching as they walk to their bathroom to pick some out. he chooses to continue the show that’s on the television, knowing it’ll calm them down. they return with two pink cat ear headbands, and sam laughs as they try and fit it over his head.

“your head is huge, sammy. don’t break my headband, please,” they giggle, finally adjusting it correctly on his head.

he smiles, dimples on display, and says, “of course, angel. i’ll try not to.”

they smile and kiss his soft lips quickly before dunking their fingers into the jarred face mask. they’re careful and slow as they bring their fingers to sam’s face, gently smearing on the coffee scented mask. sam holds the jar for them, asking them a bunch of questions about the brand, the mask, and really anything to try and distract his partner from what’s going on in their head. they notice this and kindly answer all of sam’s questions, grateful that he can read them so well.

“all done,” they say with another smile. “still very handsome.”

sam can feel a blush on his cheeks, but he’s grateful for the brown gunk on his face to hide it. “i can do it for you now,” he offers.

without a face mask on yet, sam can see the blush on their cheeks. he gently holds their cheek, letting them rest their head on his hand. they close their eyes and stay like that for a moment before picking their head back up and nodding, giving sam permission to rub the face mask onto their face.

“okay,” he says, slowly sticking his fingers into the goopy face mask. “i’ve never done this.”

they smile at him, eyes sparkling. “just do it gently.” they walk him through it all: “you picked up lots, ‘should cover my whole face. dot it on, y’know? yeah, like that. smear it around now. okay, perfect, i can feel it all over.”

they’re sure that theres some in their eyebrows and in their hairline, but sam smiles proudly about his application, and there’s no sense in bursting his bubble.

when they both wipe off their hands, they move onto nails. they spend time doing both their own nails and sam’s, letting him watch them shape the nails, fix the cuticles, and make sure everything is even. sam admits to them that he hasn’t had this done before, but that it feels nice.

sam watches as they giggle at him. “hush,” he mumbles. “what colour are you doing?“

they smile again, the feeling of a smile and the face mask uncommon. “i’m not sure. figured i’ll probably just choose whatever you want,” they shrug.

sam can feel his heart warm up, appreciating the little things that his angel does that make his world brighter.

“i was just thinking black,” he suggests, and they nod.

“black it is.”

they spend time meticulously painting their nails and sam’s, careful not to put the polish on too thick or on his skin.

sam begins admiring them again, but this time, he’s unable to help himself from speaking aloud.

“y’know,” he begins, gaining their attention. they look up at him, hands still holding onto his and the nail polish. “you’re awfully cute.”

they blush and look away from him, going back to painting his nails. “hush, sammy,” they say.

“it’s true,” he mentions. “you’re adorable, and i-“

“ugh, got it on your skin. stay still.”

sam rolls his eyes. “angel,” he says, their eyes meeting his again. he watches as their eyes glimmer with only the light of a few small lamps. “i love you.”

their eyes dart around his, flicking their attention all over his face. they smile, finding it sweet how sam wanted all of their attention on him while he said it. “i love you too, sammy.”

sam smiles, his dimples n pearly whites on display. “and, y’know, i’m sorry i don’t say it enough. i really do love you, angel, and i think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

their heart is beating so quickly, and their cheeks are flushed a bright pink. they can feel their whole body warm up, even though they’re feeling shivers from their head to their toes. they smile shyly at sam, feeling small under his watchful gaze - feeling whole again from his kind words.

“thank you, sammy,” they manage to mutter out after a few moments pass. “i needed that today.” they close the nail polish bottle and set it down on the ground. “be careful not to smudge them.” they wrap their arms around sam’s neck, sitting up on their knees and leaving a peck on his lips with an over dramatic “mwah”.

sam chuckles, carefully wrapping his arms around their waist to bring them into his lap. he’s careful not to ruin his nails, not letting his hands touch the back of their hoodie. he squeezes tight though, looking into their eyes and seeing the whole universe. he smiles at them again, analyzing them more and more the closer they get to him. with another short kiss, they offer to wipe their face masks off since their nails are dry.

there’s a comfortable silence between them as they lay on the couch together, faces fresh and nails manicured. sam takes their hand in his, interlocking their fingers and blushing at their matching nails.

they look at him fondly, needing to be as close to him as possible, but they take the hand holding and appreciate it just the same. they shift closer to him so their shoulders are touching, and sam lays his head on theirs.

“i feel so safe with you,” they whisper, holding his hand tighter.

sam kisses the top of their head, squeezing back. “good, that’s my job.”

they giggle and nuzzle their face into his arm, turning the rest of their body so they’re snuggled up next to him.

“angel, just come here,” he says, patting his lap.

they blush and accept the offer, putting each of their legs on either side of his and laying their head on his chest. they’re always apprehensive to rest their body on top of sam, but the way he wraps his arms around them and never complains about his legs getting restless eases their worries. they press small kisses onto his neck as a silent thank you, and he does the same back.

“i’m in love with you,” sam whispers, his large hands rubbing their back.

they lean back slowly, looking into his eyes, bracing their hands on his chest for support, and feeling his hands fall to their thighs. of all the times sam has said “i love you,” he’s never specified that his love for them ran deeper than baseline.

they smile as their eyes dart around his face. “i’m in love with you, sammy.”

he smiles and holds their face, kissing them deeply, and leaving small kisses all over their face. they giggle as sam does this, their hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“you’re adorable,” he says, feeling his heart best out of his chest from their giggles.

they kiss him again, pressing a few kisses over his cheeks. “thank you for making me feel better today, sammy,” they say as their hands continue playing with his hair. “i’m in love with you.”

“i’ll never get sick of hearing you say that, angel.”