#I'VE BEEN PLAYING AND I LOVE MY SKY DOG

[rainbowdonkee]

When you're forced to do anything.

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc answers the internet’s most searched questions

gif by @countingstars-17 <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Charles Leclerc and today I'm going to be answering the web's most searched questions about me."

Charles said to the camera, he was wearing his typical media day outfit, a Ferrari half zip up jacket and his baggy jeans, ones that no matter how hard his girlfriend tried to get rid off it was just impossible because he liked them too much.

"First question, what is Charles Leclerc's number?" he read on the iPad the Sky Sports team had given him to read the question, "I hope we are speaking about the driver number, because my girlfriend won't like that people are searching for my phone number on the internet and I'll be very worried if you can find it," the crew laughed at his comment, "But it's number 16."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite song?" he read the next question, "I think overall, it's Where is the Love by the Black Eyed Peas, but recently I've been loving Sabrina Carpenter's songs, and that's thanks to my girlfriend."

"Did Charles Leclerc retire?" he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the question, "Are people really asking this question? The answer is no, I'm not that old and I hope I don't look that old. I've still got many years in me I hope."

"Did Charles Leclerc win in Monaco?" a small smile played on his face, "The answer changed just a few weeks ago but yes I did. It was a really special moment, my mum cried, my brothers cried, my girlfriend cried. It was beautiful."

"Did Charles Leclerc adopt Oscar Piastri?," he couldn't help but laugh again, "That answer also changed a few weeks ago and yes I did. He's one of my sons now."

"Does Charles Leclerc speak Italian? Yes I do."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a sister? No I don't."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a girlfriend?" he could feel his cheeks blushing as he read, "Yes I do. And as you can tell, I talk a lot about her, so much that there are compilation videos of me just talking about her, I've seen them."

"Will Charles Leclerc win a championship?" he made a thinking face, "I'm curious to know what Google says about that one, but I'll say yes. At least if I work day and night for that, so I hope it will happen one day."

"Is Charles Leclerc good at cooking?" Charles chuckled. "Well, I like to think I'm decent. I can make a mean pasta and I really enjoy it, but my girlfriend is the real chef in our relationship. She loves baking, and her cookies are the best."

"Can Charles Leclerc play the piano? Well I'm not a pianist but I have enough skill to really enjoy it. So yeah, I can play the piano.

"Does Charles Leclerc have any pets?" he smiled warmly, "Yes, my girlfriend and I have a dog named Leo. He's a an absolute sweetheart. He even comes to some of the race weekends with us."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite date night activity?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "Did my girlfriend search that?" the crew laughed, and Charles continued, "If she did, she knows I love our cozy movie nights at home, eating whatever we want and just chilling on the couch."

"Alright, last one," he said, looking back at the iPad, "What does Charles Leclerc do in his free time?" he read, "When I'm not racing or training, I enjoy spending time with my family, friends and my girlfriend of course. I love going to the beach, traveling or just relaxing at home."

He set the iPad down and looked directly into the camera. "Thank you for all the questions! I hope you learned something new about me. Until next time, ciao!"

did i reference my own fic here? anyway i hope you like thisss

[harleywarley18]

God of prophecy, music, and plague 𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I was supposed to post this Sunday but got caught up with stuff so here's a midnight rundown on my relationship to Apollo ;-;

Apollo began showing up around a month after I began my worship to Aphrodite. I was afraid at first. Not of him, but of the idea of worshipping another deity. In the past, I had only ever worshipped one at a time. As a neurodivergent person I was also afraid that my relationship to Aphrodite was just a hyperfixation since I had been playing Hades a lot.

The thought of worshipping Apollo only further worried me. I wanted to assure Aphrodite that she wasn't;t a mere hyperfixation and that she would not be forgotten. The first time I tried to communicate with Apollo via tarot cards, Aphrodite showed up instead and voiced her concerns.

She was afraid that I'd abandon her and forget about her. I knew where this was coming from because I had told her about Hades. Early 2023 I had begun worshipping Hades but after about a month and a half it became too much for me to continue and I kind of just stopped my worship and never went back. I had felt so bad but worship can be so draining sometimes.

Anyways, after reassuring Aphrodite many times I believed I had the okay to begin doing proper research on Apollo before reaching out to him. What interested me about him is his Lo'xias epithet, meaning god of prophecy or messenger of Zeus. I was so drawn to it because throughout my entire life I have always had crazy intuition and predictions.

At first I chalked up to the fact that I'm autistic and can recognize patterns really well. Specifically, I take "data" I've collected about a situation or people and use it to make predictions about what will happen or what they'll do. But, too often did I predict something and it actually happened in a scarily accurate manner. There have been multiple times that it's felt as though I've actually spoken things into existence. For example, while I was ranting to my sister about someone who had talked major shit about me and I said that (for the sake of privacy I will not describe what I said) this specific scenario was going to happen to them. I said it out of anger and in passing but that very weekend exactly the thing that I said would happen to them HAPPENED.

With tarot cards, especially, my readings are always insanely accurate. Even my sister, who is not a believer in anything that I do, is wary about my readings because she knows that whatever the cards say will happen will actually happen. Furthermore, when I first moved to college I had visited a metaphysical store with my cousin and there the owner overheard me say that it had been so long since I had really done tarot that I probably couldn't ever do it again. And she said to me "tarot reading is like riding a bike, you learn once and never forget. She then brought out her own personal oracle cards and had me do a reading on her and her husband. She wanted me to use the cards to tell them who they are. According to them, everything I had said was more than true.

With Apollo, I thought I could use his help to groom and cultivate this proclivity of mine.

After having properly reached out to him, I've come to the realization that I love more than just his prophetic aspect. I stated in my previous post that I had been struggling due to a situation that occurred earlier in the school semester. Even when I was back home, I was struggling with panic attacks and bouts of major anxiety. What always helped, however, was taking my dogs out on their walk and feeling Apollo's rays of sunshine beaming down on me.

Every single time I stepped out of the house-heart racing, hands shaking, ears ringing-suddenly it would all melt away into nothingness the second I felt the sun on my face, enveloping my person, weaving its heat through my curls and over my ears. Even if it had been storming, when the time came to walk the dogs, the sky would magically become clear enough to allow the sun to shine through.

Eventually, I started keeping the tarot cards I dedicated to Apollo under my pillow and asking him to visit me in my dreams. The first night I saw a beautiful, swirling ball of light above my bed, with orange and yellow flares coming out of it. The second night, however, I woke up in a dream. I was in the back of this van sitting next to this man. He looked young with beautiful, black curls. He had his arm wrapped around me and my head rested on his shoulder.

I remember him feeling so warm. He felt like home. He felt like snuggling up under the covers in a cold room. And I just lay there, hands holding his, watching the scenery of the drive we were on. I woke up that morning with the sun shining on my face, clearly attempting to wake me up.

I've heard a lot of people say that Apollo feels like a golden retriever boyfriend or nice frat boy. And while I respect that everyone's experiences with deities is different, Apollo to me feels like some guardian. Maybe an older brother or a father or an uncle. I think people expect Apollo to be boyish and naive because he's always been described as a young thing. We forget that he is just as wise, if not more, as his cousins and aunts and uncles.

Praise Apollo, averter of evil, dark-haired, messenger of zeus!

[chocsra]

yknow tht chuuyas friend got killed during the dragon head conflicts, right?(source dead apple) yea, wht if reader was one of them. letter fics reader confessing her love to chuuya and him finding it after she died.

"Tainted With Sin, Weakness Comes From Love."

16! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

summary: chuuya finds your letters to him after your death in the dragon head conflict

content: angst, heavy mentions of death, swearing

There, the boy remained victorious.

Others would furrow their brows, feel their heart clench into an impending drop. The utter and impeccable fear of such a small body, a young boy who yearned for nothing but a reason - a purpose, holding such power. He was as if he was sculpted by a passionate artist, a woman who presented herself as a 'mother' - soft orange locks, the ever glow of his skin that never left his face, and a harmonic assortment of features, those features that made him special. A child who was stringed together like a melodic harp by a mother is every child, and that was Nakahara Chuuya. He too, was a child.

At least, he felt like one.

"Chuuya," A tall, ginger woman speaks solemnly, clasping her hands together elegantly, as always. "here - [Y/N]'s stuff." Kouyou passes a large cardboard box to the boy; items like notebooks, pens, photos, and sticky notes. It had only been 14 days after the Dragon Head Conflict, and yet, the world's lost all sense of art: skies have been less blue, birds more or so melodically sing mantras of sorrow, rather than blissful chirps. Maybe it was because of his comrades who died, maybe it's because you were one of them, or maybe, it's his brain using his frustration with the world against him. In this box, consider it pandora's box of humanity - perhaps the sight alone brightened the sky, awakened the birds. You existed, and so, he longs to feel your existence once more. Be it through letters.

Chuuya runs his fingers along a folder of letters you've written. He'll close his eyes and pretend it's your skin - he'll close his eyes and make out each indent of each thought, each question you held for the universe on that paper.

Dear Chuuya,

Happy Birthday! You finally turned 16, loser. You're all over the Port Mafia, you know? Double Black is so goddamn popular I've been approached by people I don't know asking if we're friends. So ahem, here are my birthday wishes for my boy best friend - the only one I share my gossip to that isn't a girl.

You get taller.

You find out what the hell happened before you were 8.

A girl would finally like you or something - rare, I know.

You finally get a dog. PLEASE shut up about it :)

Thank you for being my friend, even though you lose your shit when we play UNO with Albatross. Get good, kid.

Sincerely,

- [Y/N].

The redhead can practically feel himself scoffing, even though it was more like a chuckle, before sealing the letter once again; a small smile tugging on his lips even though he finds himself wiping a bit of tears from his cheeks.

"Why did it have to be you?.." Chuuya chuckles, swallowing thickly to cover the strain of tears spilling out. Crystal tears were never a threat to the boy - once again, such things like a heart doesn't suit him - yet, he finds it ironic. Maybe you had it all along.

The boy, molded by the hands of divinity, stringed together by an otherworldly being, was nothing divine. Nakahara Chuuya reigned from torture, yearned for retribution, and became an artist - one acquired dazzlingly with revenge. He took the vessel of himself he loathed and despised it with his entire being. Arahabaki was no divine being, nor a mother who lovingly caressed and loved with dainty hands. He was a monster, Chuuya was too. But from the rippling shackles he's restrained himself to, there was an angel, sacred and divine, who chided him for his hatred, his sorrows, his regrets. You too, knew how it was like to lose, to betray and be betrayed, and yet, you would never bring those to him again, but it seems once again, you've failed.

You were an angel, his angel, a light in the sky that he never failed to follow. And yet, you too fell from heaven's gate. Chuuya, who has been by your side for years, never dare touch you - Nakahara Chuuya may taint you with his sin, ruin the wings that guide him through the light. But shit, as an artist of revenge - he'll repaint it with regret.

To grow from a child, child of hatred to man of soul, touch will remold him to his feet. Rebuke his despondency. Chuuya regrets, for his only reminder of your skin was your life slipping through his fingers like ash.

To be Chuuya's angel was to lace his hair in between your words.

To be Chuuya's angel meant you were going to be immortalized.

To be Chuuya's angel meant that was only going to happen once he's lost you.

Yet he still flips the page.

Dear Chuuya,

I like you.

I thought love was foolish. A four letter word, and one syllable of absolute bullshit. Love is only a fixation in TV shows and movies. Love is a weakness, and contrary to popular belief - love cannot save you.

But you saved me. Countless of times.

The first being when I botched an assignment miserably. I was about to sacrifice myself before you kicked all the enemies' asses! You even took the blame for me.

The second was when I ate too much during a celebration and you had to bring me home safely.

The third was when you didn't say anything after I farted in a closed elevator.

Maybe you're stronger than love, then. You're Chuuya Nakahara, the strongest ability user in the world. But, even if I fell for you - it's not because of your strength, or protection. I genuinely like you, Nakahara Chuuya, not the strongest ability user, but the boy who sought a past, the boy who longs for a wine collection, the boy who cries watching dog movies, the boy who thinks chokers are a fashion statement.

Don't think because you define yourself as Arahabaki I will too. You're so much more than that.

But eh, who cares anyway, its not like you know how to read or write.

Love,

- [Y/N].

The boy who sought a past, felt himself shatter, because now he actually he had one. A best friend of his memories. An angel only in his dreams. A desire he could only do so much but reminisce. But contradictory to your previous statement, Nakahara Chuuya could read, even write now.

All because you taught him.

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[aangelinakii]

TALK.

— swimming... fountains?

summary : the two of you had been best friends since god knows when. maybe things turn out differently when you pull him in.

not proofread !

for as long as he could remember, dick grayson was utterly in love with you. from the way you held yourself, to the way you smiled at him, and down to the jokes you teased him with that he wouldn't let anyone else slide with.

ever since you were kids, you consumed his every thought. but what he didn't realise, was that you felt the same.

of course, it was a situation of miscommunication; simply just being too afraid to bring it up to the other, and not being able to read the hidden feelings of one another.

as nightwing, trained detective, dick knew how to read people. he could match a villain to their alter ego by simply passing them in the street on his way to grab a sub sandwich for lunch, but with you it was just different. maybe because it was a matter involving himself, as opposed to simply onlooking others. he felt conscious of his role in your life, and didn't want to manipulate things to follow his wishes.

put simply, he respected you immensely, and didn't want to force you into a situation he was scared you didn't want to be in. perhaps that was why you were better off as best friends.

on days neither of you had anything to do, you walked through the various parks of gotham, usually talking about how the past week had gone, or how the how many days that had passed between seeing each other had gone.

today, the two of you did just that. it was normal, nothing to be thought of it... right?

"i dunno, bruce has been stricter on us recently," dick chimed up in response to your question about his recent patrols. "so i don't really know what's going on."

pursing your lips, you gave a shrug. "even from when i've met him, he doesn't seem too lively. maybe he's just going through something."

"that's what i'm worried about."

and dick gave a sigh, one that held more weight than he was letting on. clearly this was something bigger than either of you two knew.

for a moment, you sized him up, watching as his eyes trained on the pebbly ground ahead. with the back of your hand, you nudged his arm, causing him to perk up.

"hey, how about we get some ice cream? maybe even sundaes from that shop on fourth?"

at this, his eyes lit up, stormy skies clearing with the reemergence of the sun, along with his charming smile. you knew he would be more than happy to, even if he didn't say so.

before you, the water fountain was approaching, with each step the two of you took. as it came up, you brought your foot onto the ledge, and began to walk along it.

as if like clockwork – because of the amount of times he had been with you as you walked along the fountain – dick held his hand out to your, soft palm up to the sky. in his field of work, it was a miracle he could keep his hands from getting calloused.

without having to think about it, you placed your hand in his, fitting like a puzzle piece; like a glove; lock and key.

"i already know what i'm going to get," dick piped up once again, his other hand snug in the pocket of his jeans. "rocky road, vanilla, and strawberry. maybe some butterscotch and marshmallows. i might gain a few, but i'll work it off tonight, anyway."

a laugh brushed past your lips, and you opened your mouth to reply. but any words about to escape slipped past without a sound, for your foot slipped. the fountain's ledge was slightly wet, probably from where a bird wanted a quick bath, or someone playing fetch with their dog actually threw the ball in and water splashed everywhere.

whatever it was that had happened, you were falling, no birds or dog toys could change that. and when you looked over at dick, mouth agape and eyebrows raised in shock, he was falling, too.

with a deafening splash! the two of you were splayed out in the water fountain, gasping at the chill, trying to push yourselves to sit up.

"oh my god!" you gasped, pushing your soaked hair out of your eyes, which were wide as they looked over at dick, who seemed just as shocked as you. "are you okay? i'm so sorry!"

"no, no, i'm fine," dick replied, running a hand through his raven hair, looking around at the situation as if not truly believing he was sitting in a water fountain, where literally anybody could walk past and find him. if he found any front pages with his photo on them, he would not be too happy.

on his knees, he waded over to you, and your eyes noticed the way his white shirt grew translucent in the water.

"you," he began. "are you okay? you're not hurt, are you?"

for a moment, you were worried maybe you were, but the adrenaline coursing through your body had deafened the pain, and you frantically moved to inspect if you still had all limbs.

opposite you, a chuckle brushed past dick's lips. "you look fine," he hummed. and when you looked up, his expression was soft; almost more stripped, more genuine, with the droplets of water lingering on his cheek and eyelashes.

"fine?" you repeated airily, the ghost of a disbelieving laugh running out with your breath. "like, i'm fine, or i don't look damaged?"

if you blinked, you would miss it. dick's blue eyes roamed your appearance briefly, the smile lingering at his lips. "yeah, you're fine," he replied casually.

he sat on his knees before you, not seeming to mind the cold water seeping through his clothes – which were probably more expensive than your rent – just smiling up at you, the chill causing a light flush to creep onto his cheeks. after a moment, his smile faltered, and he seemed to grow self-conscious.

"i want to talk to you about something."

you gave a laugh. "really? is this really the right time for that?" you questioned with a half-chuckle, eyes glancing around at the situation the two of you had found yourselves in; sitting pretty in a water fountain, where people were beginning to take notice. but hey ho, it was gotham; stranger things have happened.

dick paused, and, passing over a few beats, gave a bashful shrug. "i don't know. it might be. i don't think there would ever be a right time for this."

with a furrow of your brow, you narrowed your eyes at him. "what's up?" you hummed, repositioning yourself to sit more comfortably on your knees, the water rippling around you.

his mouth opened, readying to speak, but he looked away, seemingly thinking over his words, judging by that inquisitive glint in his eye. but he finally looked back at you.

"you know how much i appreciate you, right?"

at his words, the corner of your mouth twitched, aching to hold back a smile. "yeah, of course. i appreciate you too, dick."

"like," he continued, chuckling softly, "i'm not even mad that you ruined my clothes by pulling me into a fountain in the middle of the park. seriously. not even mad at all. if you were tim, i would be holding your head under the water right now."

you gave a nod, eyes flickering to the side. "where is this going?"

dick exhaled through his nose, expression hardening as he looked over at you. "i think you're great. i think you're great when you fall into a water fountain and bring me with you; i think you're great when you send me a text before i go on patrol telling me to 'keep safe'. i think you're great when we go on walks, and when we go share an ice cream sundae, and when you remember my subway order—"

"how am i supposed to forget that you like your subway melts with way too many pickles to even be normal?"

and he laughed, that softness that you just adored shining through once more, causing you to crack a grin as well.

"what i'm saying..." dick began once his chuckle had trailed off, eyes gazing into the trickling stream pooling from the statue in the centre of the fountain. "i guess... maybe i wish we weren't friends."

almost as soon as the words left his mouth, your eyebrows creased and your jaw dropped. "what– that doesn't make sense—"

"i'm in love with you, (y/n)," he finished, cutting off your confusion with barely a full sentence, his lips trembling. "okay? is that okay?"

how could you even reply to that?

noting your lack of response, dick continued to talk, trailing off awkwardly. he was ready for your years of friendship to be over.

"i just suppose we tell each other everything, and i kind of felt – i don't know – guilty that i was leaving this out. especially since it involves you. i know if you ever had a problem with me you would tell me, and the same for me with you, but i could never have a problem with you, i just thought it was the same sort of principle, i dunno—"

warmth clashing against the chill of the water, soft skin meeting soft skin. only for a moment. and it was over.

you pulled away, eyelids fluttering open to look at your best friend expectantly. best friends can't be best friends after this.

he felt for you the way you felt for him.

after every patrol, no matter how tired, he always made an effort to knock on the window of your bedroom, and bring by one of your favourite snacks, or even just to tell you about how it had gone; you adored it, the way he was so thoughtful. you thought he was just doing it because that's what best friends do.

he used to help you study for tests, and make sure you knew the content back to front before you went in.

some nights you would dance in the kitchen to your favourite oldies whilst cooking a dinner to watch in front of a good film; and it was those moments that you felt really connected him to you. but you thought it was just what best friends did.

as you looked up at him, lips thinning anxiously, dick's face softened, eyebrows upturning, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

"you just... kissed me," he breathed, his breath fanning your tingling lips. "why did you just kiss me?"

"why do you think, doofus?" you scoffed playfully, bringing a hand to softly nudge his shoulder, despite the bashfulness evident on your face. "i think i'm in love with you, too."

[hexhomos]

S2 mega spoiler asks/answers. don't click readmore if you're avoiding it.

That entire thing really did not land for me and took me extremely out of the episode ngl. The way it is framed and later on referenced on warwick's delusion flashbacks (IN MY OPINION) seemed to suggest that their mom was embroiled in an unrequited love triangle with these two and i could feel my brain leaking out of my ears because, to get back to a previously mentioned problem; it makes the world feel really, really limited. Like there's 10 real people surrounded by a population of NPCs. The idea of silco/vander as singlehandedly responsible for a 'revolution' that has no lineage beyond themselves is already laughable but?? they frame it as if vander could legit have been vi's dad?? he picks the name?? and that he is maybe seething in rage at silco because he was the reason she died??? huh? whuh? what in all of the wattpad fanfiction. not to mention... it makes silco constant attempts to kill vi in s1 seem contradictory and nonsensical. His motivations???????????

In some ways.. it is still resource exploitation now but Worse and in a time-ticking bomb sort of way that absolutely breaks the idea of Piltover using hextech for decades at a time. Im curious to see if that will be referenced in game content now bc it legitimately has shattered the timeline. I think its once again unnecessary and sacrifices a lot of good stuff for mid hand-wringing. But yeah. P/Z as presented in arcane has had so much personality sapped out of it. a whole roster of characters who might get completely rebooted for no good reason.

stole his whole flow. Disgraceful.

TBH i wouldn't really worry about this because i think if anyone is getting a new sex scene its going to be cait/vi makeup or hatesex. Sky is a plot convenience; her existence for the show's entire runtime is an accessory that they couldn't even bother fleshing out. The definition of the not-gays.

My reasoning is that if they were going to do any of that we would have already seen her do these things, more things, in the scenes she already appears in; but as always she is a static 3D model lounging in the background. (Related: this might be because she is Literally Not Real and the hexcore is just making up a faint mimicry who can only say 1 word.) Their time budget is really messy this season and i just don't see them wasting More time like that. They don't care for sky. never did! She's just a way to avoid letting viktor be an ideologue glorious evolutionist.

We already know internally some of the animators & art team like jayvik & there's even a few for-fun outside of the company interviews w/ crew expressing a preference to jv on a personal level ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the more the script tries to push it as nonromantic the more coded these scenes get. In terms of actual interaction i think a lot is going to depend on whatever the hell happens in episode 6 because their screentime is REALLY low and im unsure act3 can pull off another timeskip. So much left dangling.

IDGAF about meljay and i've never cared about meljay i think it is the culpirit of not-gays #1 so its hilarious how that shit literally didn't matter. The entire noxus storyline is a can of worms i would have thrown in the garbage and have no interest in. Still, in realistic terms, there is a 50/50 chance this season ends with jayce married 2 kids 1 dog 1/2 parrot moving out to noxus and saying 'heh, i never liked piltover anyway' and they'll play it like we're supposed to clap because nothing matters

if i was in charge we'd get full frontal jayvik stigmata scissoring write that down. I still hope if we can manifest 1 thing it is a good fight scene with some choking on it

[monzamash]

possessive!Carlos is one of my absolute faves, so no. 27 for him pls?

27. “i'm not jealous, you're just mine.” rating – mature 18+ (smut, swearing, possessive language, google translated spanish because i'm an uncultured swine) word count – 1.3k a/n – look, i love carlos - think he's gorgeous, but i struggled ya'll. i've learned a lot from writing this so that's something! hopefully you enjoy it x masterlist

The softest giggle you’d been suppressing slipped past your tightly zipped lips, your body completely betraying you as you read over the text you’d just received – a stupid but insanely cute dog meme from your new work colleague, who just happened to be a man.

The reason you tried to quash your amusement was sitting right beside you, huffing every time your phone vibrated between the two of you on the lounge, completely taking you away from him and into your screen. And you sympathised. If the tables were turned, tables would’ve physically been thrown upside down.

You and Carlos were fiery and the passion had been palpable from the moment you locked eyes at a mutual friends wedding – he could blame it on his Spanish heritage but you had nothing. Nada. You were hot headed, strong willed and stubborn, which was why you couldn’t just ignore someone because he didn’t like it. Hell, you almost wanted to do it more whenever his thick eyebrows furrowed and he peeked over at your phone silently. Nosily.

“That better not be the work friend again,” He murmured under his breath, eyes now back on the mounted television that was lighting up the dark room.

“He’s just being silly, darling – relax and watch your game,” You soothed in response, hands still cradling your phone as Carlos grumbled and turned his eyes back to the Real Madrid vs Man City match filling the now awkward silence.

That was until your phone started ringing, your mystery friend’s caller ID in bold letters spelling, Cameron popped up and caught the full, undivided attention of your otherwise sweet, unruffled significant other. And he wasn’t happy – you could almost say he was seeing red. Before you could decline the call and salvage the situation, Carlos lunged over the discarded bowl of corn chips and snatched your phone, eyes black and uncompromising.

Hello? No she’s busy right now having dinner with her boyfriend. Yes she has a boyfriend… Carlos’ eyes narrowed, fuming that you'd failed to mention him and you shrugged, the one sided conversation giving you way more entertainment than the football playing in the background. No, you cannot call her back. Call ended.

“You done?” Your question came out a little more vexed than intended. Carlos’ head snapped your way, eyes darker than the night sky above as he flipped your phone back into your lap with a scoff.

“I think he got the message, no?” He muttered, arm slinging around your shoulders and resting on the couch behind, closing the gap between you. Possessively.

“And I think you’re an arsehole.”

“Ahh, I’m not an arsehole. I’m just making him know what’s what. No worries.” He replied, nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just totally crossed the line with your co-worker and made you feel like an idiot.

“You making him ‘know what’s what’ makes you look like a possessive dick, baby and I know you’re not like that normally so what the hell? Is it because you’re jealous? You’re jealous aren’t you!?

Carlos was beyond exasperated now, hands flailing about expressively as he tried to conjure some kind of response – but coming up short as his temper started to take over. He wasn’t possessive by nature but he didn’t like people taking what was his, especially not the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with. Not on his fucking watch.

“No soy!” I'm not was all he could come up with and you were unconvinced, wickedly grinning as you slung your leg over his lap, straddling his hips and literally pinning him down for an answer.

“Yes you are – I can see it in those dark, mysterious eyes,” You teased, cracking his stoic façade little by little.

Carlos huffed and toyed with the hem of you skirt that was mocking, eyes glued to the dip of your waist, begging to be gripped. And so he did, firmly, holding you in place and ever so slightly rocking you forward, tauntingly. The mood had shifted – you both knew that but you still wanted him to admit that he was envious of not having your full attention, it turned you on thinking that he’d ruin any man who ever put a move on you. On his.

“I’m not jealous, mi amor.” Carlos started, fingers skimming down your inner thighs, “It’s just you’re mine – and I’m yours. Simple como eso.” Simple as that.

It was hard to hide the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, internally cheering your small victory but he sounded so genuine, too sweet to gloat and he was speaking truth. “All yours.”

Carlos hummed in agreement as you felt the pad of his thumb brush over your clit – the rough, sudden circles causing your mouth to fall open in a moan. You fell forward and rested your forehead on his, trying to form a coherent thought but coming up with absolutely nothing except soft moans, the only noise you could muster before your lips were seized, captured by his. Soft kisses turned to desperate ones, deeper ones as you freed him from the confines of his shorts – the Ferrari logo looking better on the floor than on his thigh.

“So pretty on your knees for me.” Carlos’s husky voice rang through your ears, mouth watering from the anticipation, “Where you belong.”

Mmm-hmm, you hummed, mouth full and eyes watering as you took every inch he had for you, tongue wagging. A hoarse moan tumbled from his throat as he occupied yours, loving nothing more than watching Carlos unravel and succumb to the pleasure that your lips were so graciously giving him. Sharp panting, fingernails digging into your skull and the tight grip on the crown of your head were all tell-tale signs that he was right in that sweet spot. Ascending to heaven. 

Mutterings of thick Spanish tumbled from his parted lips as he fucked your mouth, chasing his high, head banging back against the lounge. Mierda, he whispered, spilling all over your tongue before he slid down your throat again, now pushing you to the limit. You gagged, and looked up through hooded eyes, observing the man you loved completely under your control.

One last languid snap of the hips and he was done. You could tell he satisfied with his work as he peered down and watched as you licked your salty lips, mascara and sweat staining your flushed cheeks. You were fucked and you looked it as his fingertips brushed over your tensed jaw, Gracias.

Carlos tenderly interlocked your hands in his and carefully tugged you back into his lap, desperate to taste himself on your tongue. And you happily obliged, snaking your arms around his shoulders and sinking into his warm embrace, lips intensely locked.

“I have a secret to tell you,” You finally mumbled, pulling apart and taking a deep, revitalising breath. Your fingers were entrenched in his thick locks of hair – combing them back into place after all the tugging he’d done during his frenzied high.

Carlos hummed, eternally eager to know all of your secrets, “We’re having dinner with Cameron and his husband next week so that'll be interesting now, won't it?”

It took Carlos a couple of seconds and a flurry of blinks of his wide eyes to process your words. Husband. This man had a husband. His typically sharpened jaw slacked in shock and his grip around your waist took your breath away, again. “No, no, no! Mi amour! Why didn’t you tell me before I did what I did?"

“Because I like it when you lay down the law and I like it even more when you show me that I’m yours… How could I resist?” You cooed, smoothing your hands down his thumping chest with a smile that was mirrored on his handsome face. Head shaking.

“Give me your phone so I can call him back, plēz.”

Carlos wasn't defeated. He sounded more relieved that he could scratch one person off his hit list, wishing it was that easy to fight off the rest of the men who crossed your path. He trusted your judgement, always, but that didn’t mean he sat back, by standing while they made their move. And you loved how protective he was, how loved you were by a man with such integrity. Even if it was a little silly from time to time. But that's what you signed up for.

You were his and he was yours – for life.

let me know what you think!

[falling-star-cygnus]

If you're still looking for billy angst ideas I got something what if he got heavily injured got close to powering off and muttered something like "I don't wanna die." Or something like that

Or he actually did die/power off but by some miracle powered on again and then insert everyone's reactions

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE -> the way i shot up out of my bed and ran to my computer to write this is genuinely insane considering my athleticism abilities [which is to say none]

i don't get a lot of asks, so when i do it always makes me kick my lil feetsies

TRIGGER WARNINGS: robot dismemberment, murder [implied], brief suicide idealization [doesn't finish the thought], kidnapping [i don't write it but he's clearly not there willingly], dehumanization [referring to Billy as an 'it' in a derogatory sense]

"Nicole."

She chokes on nothing but air and nearly drops her phone in the process. What the hell, why did Anby feel the need to do this her. Appearing from the shadows like some sort of cheesy apparition was only funny when other people got spooked! She'd been texting the Proxy!

Anby, at least, waits for her older sister to settle down again before continuing:

"Where's Billy?"

Why would I know!? Nicole narrows her eyes at the smaller girl, pursing her lips in thinly veiled indignance. It wasn't her job to track her teammate's whereabouts off of missions. Or even on missions. They were capable people.

"Huh? I don't know. Why?"

Something about Anby's appearance throws her off.

Her white bangs are looser, tickling her chin and shoulder and out of that itty bitty braid that kept it out of her face. Come to think of it, Nicole hadn't seen her with that braid since yesterday morning...

Weird.

"I wanted him to redo my hair," she answers, placid as ever as she rolls the little green cap between her fingers, "Nekomata hasn't seen him either."

"Oh- Well, I can redo it for you, Anb-" "No thanks, I know how to do it."

Nicole can feel a vein twitching somewhere in her forehead. She loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved-

"Then why ask."

There's a sort of tentative silence that follows as the smaller girl fidgets, almost suffocating and sticky and wrong- Anby was uneasy about something... and that never boded well.

"...he's been sad lately. Like a dog that can't go outside when it rains."

Odd comparison, but I suppose it's fitting.

Nicole hadn't noticed anything particularly different about the android. He had been a little less energetic, maybe, more content to just... sit quietly in the company of the other Hares..

Oh god, he'd totally been acting like a sad dog.

"I thought doing my hair again might cheer him up," Anby continues, like she hadn't just made the older Demara feel slightly guilty for not noticing sooner. They all lived together.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Nicole decides to ask, despite the cloying sense of dread settling in her stomach like cement. "Did he go somewhere recently?"

A voice throws in her two cents in her other ear, "I saw him heading out yesterday, around 12!"

"Ack- Nekomata!"

Why was everyone trying to give her a heart attack today!?

"Oops.. Sorry, Nicole! But Billy promised he'd bring me back mackerel! And then he never came back."

"Billy wouldn't break a promise."

The sword wielder says it matter-of-factly, in the same tone she would use to insist that a boss theme was about to play. Or like how someone would say the sky is blue.

She wasn't wrong, though, Billy didn't break promises. Not the ones he makes to them.

An awful feeling of impending doom washes over the three.

Nicole clears her throat. Time to be the boss:

"Let's think about this, did he mention where he was going at all? Or when he'd be back?"

They all check their messages. Nothing.

Call history. Blank.

…emails? All spam.

Of course.

Don't panic, Nicole reminds herself, He could just be... hanging with Wise! Or that wolf guy.. uh.. Von something?

Anby was getting antsier with each failed clue, her fingers twitching and curling into intermittent fists by her sides. Nekomata was trying to act unaffected, but her ears were tilted back just slightly too far.

"Urgh... OK!" the two smallest members of the Hares jolt at the sudden exclamation, but the boss is too busy dialing Billy's cell number to care, "if he won't come to us, we'll go to him!"

The number rings, and rings, and rings- the android always answered on the fifth- and rings, and rings, and-

Click.

"Well, well~ You sure called faster than I expected. Has it even been 24 hours yet?"

That... was not Billy.

-><-. . .-><-

He didn't know how this happened.

Or- scratch that, he did, but... why? He thought-

"I thought we were friends," the android shouts to the retreating figure, his arms captured by two giant mechanical palms "Really? I mean- seriously? Oh, that's hilarious. And sad." Billy can feel his energy draining, but he doesn't go quick enough to miss the final parting words. "You're the least missed Hare, man, and the cat's only been there a week."

Was that.. true?

No. Nekomata had- Nicole cared- Anby would miss..

him.

Would they? He was still trying to formally befriend the Thiren girl, Anby could do her own hair now, and the Boss- would she even notice?

If he wasn't so sure coming online would cause a spike of pain to ram through his throat, he'd shake the thought away. Nicole would notice! At mission time... probably. Or when she needed him.

How long would that be, though?

Unfortunately, Billy's not allowed to spiral any further when an insistent tap-tap-tap scratches at his face plate. He fizzles into painful consciousness with a groan-

With a groan.

With-

...why wasn't he making any noise?

Any attempts made to speak- to vocalize this awful sparking in his throat- end in silence. Billy 's eyes widen, and from his peripheral he can catch the odd glimpse of wiring sticking out under his chin.

...No- no, no, no- no no.

Raucous laughter breaches his sensors, and suddenly his face is pulled up to see the same man that had betrayed him- grinning and amused.

"What's the matter, android," he jeers, releasing his face to drop something on the ground, "Cat got your tongue?"

That 'something' bounces once before landing in a sizzling, unassuming lump right before Billy's glitching eyes.

...his voice box.

-><- . . . -><-

Anby snatches the phone out of Nicole's hand.

"Where's Billy," she demands, shocking the other two Hares silent

She can't bring herself to care at the moment, the way rage is boiling under her skin. Her voice has never been particularly emotive, neither has her face, this she knew intrinsically. A fact of her life that she didn't care to fix.

But Billy was her friend.

Billy understood her. He did her hair whenever she asked, tried to protect her when she didn't need it- not because he didn't think Anby was capable but because he wanted to. Billy explained things she didn't want to, gave her an in to conversations-

"You really care about this thing?" "Billy's not a thing. Where is he." Anby would not ask a third time.

The voice on the other end snickers, amused for some unfathomable reason. And it's like Nicole can sense her impending neurosis, because she pries her phone out of the smaller girl's hand.

"We won't ask again," she emphasizes, fully in Boss mode now, "Why do you have Billy's phone?"

"Calm your tits, ladies."

Nekomata hastily pries the phone out Nicole's hand before it can be crushed.

"What I mean is- relax! Look.. if it'll make you feel better, I'll return it to you. Er- it's parts anyway. Hah!"

It. He was calling Billy... an it.

Something dark poisons the room.

"Just kidding! Anyway- Keep better track of your things, Hares! Finders keepers, you know?"

Click.

...

"Anby. Nekomata."

The girls stand at attention, awaiting the instructions sure to follow their stormy faced Boss.

"We're going to Random Play."

-><- . . . -><-

...everything hurt.

His throat, what was left of his right arm, what was left of his left leg, his torso where red wire hung out like streamers.. The traitor- because it brought some sort of vindicative relief to call his tormentor that- hadn't been joking about selling him for parts. At all.

Pieces of prior 'conversations' looped themselves over and over again like a broken record- a snake eating it's own tail- and at this point Billy couldn't tell if it was his own busted thoughts or if the man had taken his mind too.

"Wow~ an android with a pain threshold.. that's rare. You can feel all of this then?" Billy, of course, couldn't answer with any more than a twitch as pliers hacked away at his wiring. "Bet we'll get a pretty penny off you then."

"I don't really get the point of androids, you know? This tech could be so much better utilized for prosthetics."

"Called your buddies earlier." That had sparked the most reaction out of him so far, that got him to raise his head with worried eyes. "Oh-ho! What'd you get excited for? They're not looking for you."

His voice box still sat on the ground in front of him, mocking as it hissed out sparks from time to time. At least that could still make a sound.

Were the Hares... really not coming for him? Would there be anything left to find if they did?

Billy could hardly open his eyes as it was, even if the Hares could find him in this Hollow- would they even want him around if he couldn't do anything?

Maybe... it would be better if he just-

The metal doors screech open again.

-><- . . . -><-

The tacky feeling of blood, whether caked under her nails or smeared over her cheek, would normally bother her.

This she wears as a badge of honor.

They had been lucky, all things considered, to have connections to the former Phaethon siblings. It still took too long, in Anby's opinion, but Belle and Wise had found the seller that had listed- for a lack of better phrasing- Billy's parts.

"'Ethically sourced' my fine ass!" Nicole had shouted at the monitor, barely restraining herself from grabbing it and shaking.

Anby flicks her blade to the side, watching disinterestedly as blood splatters against the scorched pavement.

"Alright, you guys," Belle- in Eous' body- piped up, "Billy should be behind this door."

What's left of him, goes painfully unsaid.

None of them want to open the door, not when it could confirm a truth they've blatantly ignored the possibility of. Billy could be nothing but wires and lost data behind these doors.

Schrödinger's Android.

Anby takes the plunge and shoulders the creaky metal open.

At first, she's worried that they had the wrong warehouse. The inside is dark- quiet- and she can't immediately see anything with the rubble blocking the way further inside.

That was fine, Nekomata was the only Hare that could marginally compete with her in speed anyway. Sooner than she could really blink- or think about it- the smaller Demara finds herself atop the rubble pile.

There he is.

Billy is in the center of the warehouse, powered off and forced to his remaining knee by robot palms clamped around what's left of his limbs. The wires in his torso hang out like entrails, frayed and stripped at the ends and wrong.

Anby trips over herself to get to him, uncharacteristically uncoordinated as she finally- finally reunites with the android.

"Billy," she breathes out, watery and insistent as she presses her bloodied hands to his cold face, "Billy, wake up. We're here."

Please wake up, please don't let this be for nothing-

Familiar, warm, yellow eyes finally flicker open. It's a struggle, both to watch and to experience probably, as the Hares' big brother reluctantly comes back online.

Reluctantly. Billy shouldn't be reluctant.

There's no talking, no glitchy recall of her name, not even a whisper of pain- or any sound- as his eyes widen disbelievingly at her. Billy shouldn't be quiet.

This was wrong.

Something sparks in the corner of Anby's eye, and the realization that comes with it makes her wish she had done more than dull her blade. Billy's voice box, crudely ripped out and left in plain sight...

"Anby, did you find him?"

The android's warm yellow eyes somehow widen even further at the sound of Nicole's voice and Nekomata's footsteps. When the two come into view, the faceplate under the smaller Demara's hands trembles.

Anby recounts what she learned, making sure to keep her hands on Billy at all times as the reunited Hares' get their metal teammate free. Obviously, he can't walk- he can barely support himself- and they should really wait to celebrate until they're out of the Hollow, but...

"Billlly," Nicole all but sobs as she pulls the android into a hug he can't reciprocate, "you idiot. We were worried sick about you! You're never leaving the base without telling one of us ever again!"

Nekomata joins in from behind, wrapping her thin arms with exceeding amounts of care around Billy's torn neck. She doesn't say anything, but the way the Thiren girl buries her face into his synthetic hair says enough.

Anby hadn't re-braided her fringe since noting his disappearance and the loose hair sticks uncomfortably to the blood on her cheek as she bullies her way under his remaining arm. Belle stands off just slightly to the side, touched by the family reunion but unwilling to interfere with the tender moment.

The Cunning Hares' had missed their resident big brother deeply; now that he was back, they weren't ever letting him go again.

AND THERE SHE IS!! FINITO, EL FIN, FINIE! sorry if the ending was kinda rushed, but i hope you enjoyed! lmk what you thought and, of course, if there's anything else you want to see me write or elaborate on!

[tookishcombeferre]

i remember you, tucked into your first binder, like an anxiety compression vest, eight years ago, blaring some song far too loud into your headphones, you voted then, too. you, and the, not yet, spouse unit, got pancakes at the diner you loved the waitress who knew you and your gsa friends made sure you had extra syrup, she patted your shoulder, she told you you'd survive to see tomorrow, you weren't sure she was right. but, you tried to believe her. the next time you vote, you have been married seventy-two hours, world's fastest and shortest prayer service, no dance, small dinner, thirteen friends, like bilbo's dwarves, cram into your home for a "reception" before you abscond to a hotel room to sleep. that night, watching numbers, seventy-two hours after your wedding, the two of you curl around each other, as some kind of protective barrier from the outside world. you trust him. the bespeckled face that has always, always been there. he, who, drove you to walgreens at two in the morning when the hives from an allergic reaction locked your knees and forced you to sleep on a futon. my great human disaster, he says, booping your nose as he drops you off, half-carries you inside. both of your are bitter, dorm-policy will not let him stay the night. yet, he strokes your hair, until you are sleeping ... still on the blasted futon. he, who, insists you come to tea friends talking history, literature, and philosophy - sometimes four, sometimes six, sometimes three, once only two ... he bought you tea, and listened to you vent holding your hand as you wept, washing away all that you had carried for far, far too long. when the sun rises on that next day, victory is sweet, and the embrace you share is sweeter. hope is a word that suddenly looks like sunshine, pink on the horizon line, blazing white, dancing golden yellow as it arcs over the sky. when you bring life into the world, you pray the future is brighter still tonight you do not know what to say when they kiss your face lips full of chocolate and cheesecake ... yet, this is a darkness you have fought. you remember that diner, the bitter coffee, the saccharine sweetness of the pancakes, tears pouring down your face. ticking up the music louder, louder, louder, and louder still ... trying to reach some kind of oblivion. the next day? the alarm went off, and you stumbled to class ... tomorrow? a voice will cry your name and you will stumble to task. the checklist works - cry, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, but the powerful play goes on, that we each may contribute a verse ... what may your verse be? mo stóirín, what will your verse be? every parent's prayer; every child knows - p.s. shuller You have got to stay. You have got to fight the good fight. Cry. Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. And, the show must go on. Activism is so important. Now more than ever. And, also, it isn't over till it's over (or whatever the heck that idiom is.) Please, please, there is so much left. There are so many rainbows, and puddles to jump in, and TV shows to watch, and dogs to pet, and pizza concoctions to try. There are so many terrible flavors of Pringles to eat. There are CapriSun flavors you haven't had yet. (Though, we all know that Mountain Cooler is the superior one don't even at me.) You will laugh again. That feeling will be so worth it. There are so many things, good, beautiful, and worthy things to keep on keeping on for. Especially for the littlies out here. I see you. I've been you. I promise you, if you look to history, we will band together like we have for time immemorial to do what we have always done, survive. We will be okay. I don't know what you believe in, but you gotta trust that it's going to be okay. One breath. One day. One week. One year, at a time. I believe that with each other we are stronger than we know Cling tight to those "old songs." There's a reason those legends come back to us in new forms again and again. Read them. Sing them. Learn them. All My Parental and Elder Queer Love to You, Pip

[doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou]

Canis Minor

Prophecies (1)

> larissa weems x fem!reader

> requested? no!

> content/warnings: angst, mentions of attempt su*cide

> a/n: Canis Minor has one myth that includes Icarius, his dog Maera, and his daughter Erigone, that's the story I decide to use here. Anyway, here's the song I played as I wrote this one. The Prophecy by T.S

Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle Oh, but it's gone again

“Surely you know, Tish? I cannot lose her. I cannot lose this chance.”

“Apologies, Ris. But my knowledge about visions ends here. I do not know anymore.”

Hearing the sound of lightning crackling, Larissa sighed as she closed her eyes. She really thought Morticia had the key to unlocking the reason for the incident; maybe, just maybe, Larissa could retrieve your memories of her. Of both of you. Yet, for the nth time this week, her hopes have been crushed.

Groaning, Larissa reached for the wine bottle in front of her, not minding as the calling orb rolled down from the table to the floor. At this point, she couldn’t care less of whatever objects littered her office. Her sole priority was giving you back your memories, no matter what it took. 

“Wait for me, my love, please. I’ll come back to you.” It was like she could hear you say those words to her. She pursed her lips as she stopped her tears from trickling down her face as she drank the entire bottle of wine. 

Pad around when I get home I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said

It was midnight when Larissa decided to leave the confines of her office. Without any eyes judging her every move, she could walk freely, think freely, and reminisce freely. Finding herself on the highest floor of the school, Larissa observed the maps you drew for the students one tedious day.

“It is given that astronomy is hard, for some people, but not for me.” You paced around the room, locking eyes with most of your newest students. Seeing them cower beneath your gaze always made your first day, yet you can't help but think how many students have gone past you and not a single one has said anything bad behind or in front of you.

As you neared the board in front of the class, you saw five students with their eyes drooping, almost as if they had to sleep. So, you slammed your hands on your desk, chuckling when you saw the same five students sitting straight up with shocked faces. 

Smirking, you shook your head and grabbed the numerous scrolls in the bucket on your desk. “These,” you opened one and showed it to the class, “are maps. Study them after class, and we will have a discussion of the different constellations and how they became constellations.”

You clapped your hands, and one by one, all the scrolls floated towards each desk. “Now, who knows the story behind Canis Minor?”

“Canis Minor…” Larissa looked up to the sky, trying to find the first constellation you taught your students. “There you are.” Locking eyes with the stars, Procyon and Gomeisa, she walked towards the edge of the balcony and gripped the railing hard.

“I know only one of the myths surrounding you; I'm here to request that you not take her life the same way that myth ended. Grief is difficult, yet I know I can be the shoulder she cries on.” Blinking away her tears, Larissa bit her lower lip. “I know she decided her fate on her own, but I want to redirect that. I do not care if she saw every single one of my futures, and when she saw she was not part of any, she would leave whatever we had behind.” This time, Larisss let her tears fall down. “I want her to be part of my future, I need her to be part of my future. I do not care that every single one of my predicted future does not include her, I will make one for us. That is how I want my future to be. How I need it to be.”

Larissa felt her knees grow weak, and this time, she let her weakness overcome her. “Please… ”

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

“Grief does things to people no one can predict.” With light emitting from your quarters, Vlad could only hide his emotions behind his 10th glass of bloody Mary. He stood up to close his office curtains, yet when Vlad saw Larissa kneeling down on the balcony of the astronomy tower, he shook his head.

“Only you and Larissa can redo your fates, now that the cards are on the table.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Light Verse Project Complete!

As many of you know, Iron & Wine is my absolute favourite artist of all time. So when he released a new album earlier this year - Light Verse - I decided to do a fic for each song. And it's done! Here is the collection.

For anyone who is curious, here is what I did!

Track One: You Never Know

Fic: you could make light

Full lyric: You could make light, be the silly word Sitting on a tongue You could make nice or beat a drum

Summary: When a sudden blackout leaves May and Buck trapped for hours, the two find themselves getting a lot off their chests, and bonding over several important parts of their lives.

Track Two: Anyone's Game

Fic: no one can be born too many times

Full lyric: Anybody born knows how to play this little game No one can be born too many times First they kiss their lucky dice and then they dig themselves a grave They do this until it's killing them to try

Summary: When Ravi's younger brother shows up at the station unexpected, the 118 gets a better glimpse into his life, and Ravi gets a better perspective on both his families.

Track Three: All In Good Time

Fic: i told my future by reading your lips

Full lyric: All in good time, our plan went to shit I told my future by reading your lips You wore my ring until it didn't fit All in good time

Summary: In 2018, on their way to a call at a child beauty pageant, and feeling a little strange, Buck and Eddie are suddenly thrown into a fast-paced look at some key moments from their future. And, what they see? Well it can only lead to one logical conclusion.

Track Four: Cutting It Close

Fic: time likes pulling my teeth

Full lyric: Time likes pulling my teeth I never knew how many teeth I would need So it goes and it goes It doesn't matter but it's cutting it close

Summary: Buck is enjoying the last day of a family vacation with Eddie and Christopher. Over and over and over again. And Eddie seems determined to keep it that way.

Track Five: Taken By Surprise

Fic: i've seen a couple suns that set forever

Full lyric: I know this kind of moon It looks too full to come back down And I've seen a couple suns that set forever

Summary: Freshly home from Texas and faced with the prospect of his dad's feelings for Buck, Christopher's abandonment issues surface. A conversation with Bobby, and realizing the parallels between Buck's relationship with Bobby, and his relationship with Buck, gives Chris the perspective he needs.

Track Six: Yellow Jacket

Fic: a cold world for such a long life

Full lyric: Doves are losing lucky feathers in the sky Appaloosa's in the moonlight going blind What a cold world for such a long life Dogs are barking on the record every night

Summary: Eddie befriends Bobby's estranged older brother in a virtual support group for queer adults struggling to come out. The only problem? He has no idea that's who Charlie is.

Track Seven: Sweet Talk

Fic: Sweet Talk

Summary: Eddie asks to crash at the loft while Christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. Only problem? There's only one bed, and no couch.

Track Eight: Tears That Don't Matter

Fic: are you not the lost and found?

Full lyric: Fly right, eat a rainbow Speak of the devil when gods in the details Meet the moment, kill kindness Finding and keeping that pot you can piss in

So are you or are you not the lost and found?

Summary: In which Bobby has the opportunity to meet an alternate universe version of his daughter, who has lived to adulthood, but her life has not been without its own complications - including their relationship.

Track Nine: Bag of Cats

Fic: treat an opportunity like it's treating you

Full lyric: Treat an opportunity like it's treating you Another plum thumbing for a ride Love is only fair 'Til all its favorite hair is falling out, falling out Falling out, falling out, falling out

Summary: After losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, Buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him.

Track Ten: Angels Go Home

Fic: all our bruises beg for a chance

Full lyric: All our true believers break like fever All our bruises beg for a chance, beg for a chance

Summary:

Buck is adjusting to life living with Eddie, Chris, and his service dog Cranberry, when his parents visit for the first time since he lost his leg.

OR:

A Cranberry-verse take on the events of Buck Begins.

---

I am thinking of doing this for more albums! This was such a fun project!

[bookns]

Tortured Poets (the analogy) favorite lyrics:

The Black Dog: When someone plays "The Starting Line" and you jump up, but she's too young to know this song that was intertwined in the tragic fabric of our dreaming 'cause tail between your legs, you're leavin'

Imgonnagetyouback: Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you OR Pick your poison, babe, I'm poison either way

The Albatross: A rose by any other name is a scandal (the English major and fanfic reader in me almost died when THE TITLE of so many fanfics is in a Taylor song)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: If you want to tear my world apart, just say you've always wondered

How Did It End: (side note: I love this song) We learn the right steps to different dances OR We'll tell no one except all of our friends but I still don't know...how did it end?

So High School: No one's ever had me (had me), not like you (so simple but so pretty)

I Hate It Here: Like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy (again English major with a business minor I DIED HEARING THIS. truly this one was a no-brainer) OR You see I was a debutant in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside OR I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on purpose

thanK you aIMee: Screamed, "Fuck you, Aimee" to the night sky as the blood was gushing (screaming my tears ricochet at the eras tour while looking at the sky is this lyric to me. that moment is unforgettable eras tour moment to me)

I Look In People Window: Does it feel alright to not know me? I'm addicted to the 'if only' (niche reference but if only was in fact a favorite of this former descender)

The Prophecy: I've been on my knees change the prophecy…Don't want money....just someone who wants my company

Cassandra: Blood's thick but nothing like a payroll (as someone who is currently having a job that follows her passion and not what her parents want..I tend to want to ignore this lyric)

Peter: The goddess of timing once found us beguiling

The Bolter: A curious child, ever reviled by everyone except her own father OR That as she was leaving, it felt like freedom

Robin: You have a favorite spot on the swing set

The Manuscript: (my favorite off TTPD in general so this one is a long one): Afterwards, she only atе kids' cereal and couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed OR The professor said to write what you know. Lookin' backwards might be the only way to move forward. Then the actors were hitting their marks and the slow dance was alight with the sparks. And the tears fell in synchronicity with the score. And at last, she knew what the agony had been for (yes im aware this is legit the entire bridge: I love this song and this bridge)

[cosmicalily]

"i believe you liar" a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

'how to tame lions' - yang jeongin x fem!reader, han jisung x fem!reader (not poly)

'you know i liked it better when we pretended this was for... i do not know what you want, do not know what you want, i do not know what you feel, i do not know if it's...'

author's note: chapter one is here! i've been so excited about this series; this is one of my favourite albums and my favourite people to write for. please remember that this is a work of fiction, and my depictions are not a representation of them as real people. enjoy x

warnings: implied sex (no actual smut, you nasties), kind of betrayal? the whole thing is basically a right person, wrong time trope

There was beauty in the simplicity of childhood love; you just loved or hated whatever and whoever was there. The intangible didn’t matter, the future or past or the consequences or benefits. It was present and physical. You could see it and feel it without a doubt, and there wasn’t ever a need for doubts, anyways.

Yang Jeongin always had a penchant for shoving very large pieces of food in his mouth, risking oxygen, jaw functioning, and his dignity, just to eat something before his younger brother could get his hands on it. He loved playing with small kids and babies, even if at the time, he was little more than a small kid himself. He liked to talk, but not too much, and was the oldest in his year, but the youngest out of his friends. He liked your trampoline. You liked his dog.

Jeongin had never really been friends with someone his own age before, not until he met you. He had his friends in the year above, the ones he considered older brothers. He had his little brother’s friends, the ones who begged him to play with them whenever they were over. Jeongin had lots of friends, but this summer, he felt left behind. 

Until he met you. Or rather, you met him.

His older friends had gone to a summer camp, one that he wasn’t old enough to attend, and his younger brother and his friends were doing a holiday soccer program for young children. Jeongin was bored and lonely and curious of the huge moving trucks that had been coming by daily, particularly of the trampoline strapped onto the back of one of them. He wanted to know who had finally inhabited the two-story house next door, the one with the empty backyard that he’d stared into for years. The backyard that was now set up with a trampoline, on which a girl lay out like a starfish, alone, staring into the bright blue sky.

So Jeongin had put on his baseball cap, found his pack of UNO and made his way down the sidewalk, ringing the doorbell. 

After that first day he’d invited himself over, you’d spent almost every day of summer break with him. You took his dog for walks (although their golden retriever, Cookie, was very strong, and more often than not, the dog was walking you), played on your trampoline and on his back porch. You had never felt so close to someone in your life. It seemed everyone loved Yang Jeongin, but you felt like you loved him the most. You told him this one day, with the kind of unfaltered kid confidence that disappears during teenagehood. He didn’t laugh or joke or tease you, the way he normally did when you made remarks like that. He nodded sincerely, and assured you that you were his best friend, or in his words, his “favourite girl”. You replied that he was most definitely your favourite boy. You treasured each other's words; a reminder that, at least in this lifetime, in this town, you would never be alone. From then on, you weren’t addressed by your name in your birthday and Christmas cards anymore. You were his favourite girl and he was your favourite boy. Your families, who had become quite close after your friendship had blossomed, thought it was adorable, and you often heard jokes about how the two of you would get married someday. You wrinkled your nose at this; marriage seemed so distant, a practice that couldn’t express the kind of connection you and Jeongin had. 

Of course it wasn’t all favourite girls and boys and bubble wars in the backyard. There were petty fights, some so bad that you weren’t sure if you’d ever be friends again afterwards. He could be clumsy and careless, and you could be sensitive and uptight. Once, you received a huge lego set as your twelfth birthday present and immediately invited him over. However, the fight over whether to follow the instructions and actually build the palace that was intended (your idea) or build a plane in the shape of a fox (his idea) lead to pieces being snatched, stolen, hidden and eventually lost, and lots of tears and shouting. He said you were being boring, you said he was being annoying. Then, in a moment of frustration, you dropped the bomb.

“You’re not my favourite boy anymore, Yang Jeongin,” you shouted, then your hand flew to your mouth, realising just what you’d said.

You’d seen Jeongin cry before. When he’d fallen off his top bunk trying to do a trick, the time he sprained his ankle on your trampoline. But you’d never seen him cry like this. He was silent, his cheeks flushing pink, eyes watering. He walked out of your room, down the stairs and left. You wanted to follow him, to apologise, say you didn’t mean it. You were also very petty, and wanted to hold a grudge, to prove a point.

But Yang Jeongin was sweet, the sweetest boy you knew. You broke his heart for the first time that day, yet he was the one to slip a letter through your windowsill a few days later. A letter you still kept today, folded tightly into squares in your wallet.

"I’m sorry I messed up your lego, I know it was annoying of me. I miss you and want to make friends. Cookie misses you too. Do you want to come for a walk with us today? You’re still my favourite girl, even if you don’t like me anymore, I will still like you, I promise. (But I hope I am still your favourite boy, were you just angry and maybe didn’t mean it?)"

You were twelve, reading a hastily written letter from the boy next door who once shoved a whole orange into his mouth, who got dragged into a lake by his overexcited dog, who invited himself over to play on your trampoline, who tried to build a plane in the shape of a fox.

Yes, you’d known you loved Yang Jeongin before that, but as you reread the letter, then ran over to his house and hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder and promising that he was your favourite boy and that you didn’t mean it, you felt something in your chest twinge.

He got under your skin often. It irritated you.

But now, it felt like he was crawling in, making a home there.

He was still there, even though your high school summers had ended, and you were in the bed of someone else, someone who you’d been so deeply intimate with, someone who made your heart and body ascend when you were with them.

You’d told Han Jisung that you’d loved him eight months ago. Only him.

This had been your fourth summer without Yang Jeongin, for he had moved in eleventh grade with his family. His younger brother had gotten into a soccer academy five hours away, and so they had left to move to the city. You remembered that last week with him as clearly as day; as if it was all happening in front of you again.

The two of you had been laying on his bed, crinkled linen and pillows strewn on the floor, sheets pulling loose from the mattress. The window had been open, and a warm breeze had blown through the curtains. His bedroom was hot, despite the fan being on full blast, and you felt as if you were going to melt into a puddle. Boxes surrounded the bed, labelled hastily in Sharpie. Some in your handwriting, some in his. Every surface was emptied and wiped clean, his walls bare. Yang Jeongin was leaving.

Jeongin had laid beside you, your leg on top of his. His bare torso was warm against your shoulder and had a glowy sheen to it, and you suddenly felt very aware of your body in its pale blue underwear and loose white t-shirt. You definitely hadn’t been this aware of yourself two hours  ago. You didn’t know how or why you’d let yourself go, not like this, not this fast. Not now, when it was all too late.

Jeongin rolled over to look at you. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, staring at him. “It’ll make it all more real.”

Jeongin took a deep breath and nodded.

You stayed where you were, bodies entangled, the heat of a summer afternoon and the glow of the midday sun filling the room.

And, like some fucking miracle, the person who moved in next door was another boy. Your age. Sparkling brown eyes, heart-shaped smile, joking and mischievous.

Just like that, Han Jisung crash landed into your life. The gap of loneliness was filled before it properly formed. But maybe, that had been a curse. Because now, as you pressed your cheek closer into Jisung’s neck, your heart ached, and your skin itched.

You’d never forget.  

[grogusmum]

Class of 1974 Taking Chances Part 3: All In

Javier Peña X F!Reader

RATED: EXPLICIT 18+

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: oral sex (f receiving) some swearing, As always, see something? Say something. Pop into my DMs and let me know so I can add anything I overlooked.

SERIES SUMMARY: Javier graduated from high school in 74', it's 1989. On a sort of whim he decides to go to his class reunion and sees his old flame, you.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Javi arrives in Vermont and is ready to take the plunge.

Part 2

Javier turns onto a dirt road, passing three large mailboxes, the faded red one has your last name and a little handprint in sky blue on it. A rippling hayfield and what has to be an ancient beech tree complete with a tire swing are to his left and an old stone wall with raspberry canes growing through it on his right. Javier can’t help but think he's entered a Norman Rockwell painting, and wonders if he's up for that, if he can fit into that. A DEA agent, who bent the rules into pretzels "to get the bad guy".

He has to take this chance; he knows he will regret it if he gets cold feet. Like last time with you and then with Loreena.

Driving past the tree, the road bends to the left and a farmhouse with an attached barn, common in New England, comes into view. A kid in overalls is in the dooryard with a black dog. He turns and calls into the house.

Then there you are, t-shirt, jeans, and tall Wellington boots, a pair of work gloves in your hand, and all trepidation washes away. Javier gets fully out of his fastback and swings the door closed. His hands settled on his belt. He looks down at his shoes and then tilts his head up a tick, his eyes raised to meet yours, eyebrows up in question.

Is this okay?

"Javi?" You ask, astonished, a smile nevertheless spreading across your face. Then you break into a run, gloves forgotten in the grass as you all but crash into him. His arms immediately wrap tightly around you; your feet leave the ground for a moment.

"You're here," you confirm, "you're h- I - wait, is everything okay?"

Your last conversations have been hard ones, Vermont and Texas are just so far, it feels more than just distance when it's not temporary. You feel it’s unfair to ask him to come to Vermont, to give up on his work and be so far from his father, and Javier knows you have a whole life here, making a living as a farmer, no easy feat these days, not to mention with a kid to raise.

"I thought we agreed long distance wasn't cutting it."

"It wasn't," Javier cups your cheek, his eyes roving your features with adoration.

"But I thought we- we decided... what's changed?"

"Me," Javier looks you full in the face, his chestnut eyes trained softly on yours. "I've changed, and I want you, wherever you are."

The corners of your eyes prickle, and you shake your head slowly in awe. Taking his face in your hands, his beautiful face, and slot your lips to his. You're glad he's got a good hold on you because your legs may never work properly again. When you finally come up for air, Javier takes his aviators off and looks at you, his eyes glassy too.

“Come on inside, let's have some lunch,” you take one of his fingers and give it a gentle tug as you lead him in the house. You give him a lopsided smile over your shoulder, and he huffs a laugh, again and again he wonders how he ever let go of you.

On the porch, you give your son, Benjamin a nod to come into the house he and Murphy the Dog, comply together.

Javier first smells the savory soup that must be on the stove. There's music playing from a radio. He takes in the house, from the outside it’s a picture of Americana, inside it's far more eclectic. The plaster walls above the wood wainscoting are painted in colors, rooms of sky blue, barn red, sage green… the floors are hodgepodge some are stained a warm honey color, while others have been painted, old folk art hook area rugs warming them up. Your love of theater, music, movies, and books is evident, from the marquee posters, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and instruments, not just an upright piano that looks like it came from a school but a guitar, ukelele, some instruments he doesnt recognize, and some kind of brightly colored hand drum beside a basket of equally colorful small percussion instruments. Then Javier remembers you saying in the winter you run a sort of music playgroup for little kids to help pay the bills.

Your kitchen is sunny yellow, large with a high tin ceiling with fans hanging down. It feels like the center of the house, it’s heart. Not only a large round scrubbed wood table with plentiful mismatched chairs, but an overstuffed armchair by a pillow covered window seat that looks like an adult could sleep on. The music is coming from a radio/turntable console that has to be from the 40’s or 50’s.

It's all exactly you, and he can’t believe this is the first time he is seeing it. Part of the reason things weren’t working probably; the plan was to save on travel by “meeting in the middle” when you could get together. Then the rest was letters and phone calls, but that at 38¢ a minute... they were not long. He needed to see your life, and you needed to see his. But he didn’t want to show you that. Sure, he gave you the broad strokes, not really wanting to get into details. Another reason… what’s that, strike two? He can't mess up the next pitch.

“You look like you see a ball and chain in the corner,” you murmur, trying to disguise anxiety with sass.

“Nope, just realizing I should have come here months ago, babydoll.”

You smile, relief in your eyes.

“This is Benji,” you say pulling your son to a side hug. Murphy starts smelling Javier, closely. “And 'nosy Joe' here is Murphy.”

“Hi Benji. Your mom’s told me a lot about you, I’m Javi.” Javier pulls back his hips protectively and gives the Labrador a hand to smell. Chuckling, he murmers, “Murphy, huh?”

“Ben,” you say, with a nod at Murphy.

“Yeah sorry, come on Murph get out of there,” your son pulls Murphy away, “Sorry.”

After grilled cheese with soup and chatting with Benji about school (it’s okay) and baseball (I can’t believe we came in third! My favorite is Boggs), Benji asks if Javi brought his gun. (Earning a stern Benjamin Oliver! from you and a wink and a nod from Javi), and you encourage Benji to show Javier the farm while you clean up.

"Sure!" The boy bounds through the house, "come on!"

Javier kisses your forehead and follows.

"You work on a ranch?"

"Mmhm, it's my father's, it's big"

"Ours is small, just a few goats, sheep, chickens... we have two horses. Mom told me you have a cattle farm"

"Yep, cows and horses to wrangle them."

"Knock, knock."

Javier is quite for a beat from the abrupt switch, then smiles-

"Who's there?"

"Impatient cow."

"Impatient cow wh-"

"MOOOOO" Benji cuts across, and Javier gives him a satisfying burst of surprised laughter. He ruffles the boy's head-

"That's a good one, Ben. I needed a good knock knock joke."

Javi brings his overnight bag upstairs. Your room is a soft coral. The bed is tall, with a whitewash spindle headboard and a crazy quilt spread, complete with a calico cat at the end of it, who looks at Javi nonplussed.

“There is a bathroom off of my room, right through the closet- yeah, old houses,” you shrug.

After putting his bag on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, Javi reels you in for a kiss.

“So did I hear Benji go outside?”

You laugh, kissing him.

“Yeah, he went over to the neighbors, I told him we needed to talk about some stuff.”

“Talking’s good. But mmm, I can think of other ways to-“

Javi's hand cradles the back of your neck as he comes in for another deeper kiss. You hum a little at the taste of his lips and his mustache's rasp. You bring your pelvis in to meet his, which is taken as a green light. With the smooth grace of someone practiced, Javi brings your shirt over your head with hardly a break in his feast on your mouth, jaw, and neck. You unbutton his shirt hastily, and not as smoothly – it's been a while, and you aren't nearly as skilled. But you are gifted a soft groaning, ‘fuck’ when you dip your head to his now bare chest, and let your teeth graze one of his nipples. Javier backs you toward the bed. When you're spread out, legs dangling off the edge, he unbuttons your jeans, peeling them off you like a present he is looking to savor, as you watch on your elbows. Your bra and underpants remain. You sit up and pull at his buckle. Javier watches you, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you work his buckle open and off, then unbuttoning his jeans. He remembers his shoes and toes them off quickly, not wanting to lose momentum. Looking at you mostly bare, soft curves, silver stretch marks from carrying Benji, just gorgeous. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, thinking about the first time you “met part way” when you weren’t in a dark cramped car, when he could see you properly for the first time in fifteen years-

“Bonita, babydoll, you’re so beautiful… the years I missed-“

“We’ve got plenty of time, Javi, plenty.”

“I wish-“

“Me too. But we are here now.”

“We’re here now.”

You tug his pants down and pull him onto you, bringing him back to the present.

Javier tucks his narrow hips between your thighs, his elbows holding his torso over you, he searches your face-

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither,” your hand goes into his hair, giving a soft tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, Javier gives a growl and kisses you hard on the lips, its teeth and tongue, nips and licks. When you give an involuntary buck, his smirk is dangerous. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes track down your body, his eyebrows quirk like he’s deciding something. Suddenly he’s off you.

“Jav, what are y-" your confused query becomes a gasp.

Javier puts his mouth on your clothed mound.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Javier’s nose nudges at your clit, making your legs quiver, then he takes the elastic of your undies in his teeth and he draws them down slowly, his fingers looping the sides to help them along.

Your chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, as you look at the ceiling. His breath fanning over your center tells you right where he is, and then the flat of his tongue draws a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Nectar of the gods, babydoll,” Javier moans and makes a meal of you.

Your head is heavy on his chest as you doze, which is no longer tight, and your quiet snores are like music, a comforting song. The afternoon sunshine streams in the open window. He watches the curtains flutter and dust motes dance in the disturbed air, as he hears birds, he doesn’t know. He is in uncharted territory and he has no plans to fuck it up. You are his compass, and years of what not to do is his map.

Before falling to sleep, he showed you his skeletons, you know what he’s done.

You will talk more. About about him, and his work. About what life might look like up here for him, like a warning. You'll stumble over the term 'stepdad', not wanting to presume… but you need to know for Benji, if he really wants this. And he does want it-

All of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

[catsburgers]

chat this MIGHT be dialtown! (closeups under the cut!! ft. their songs and why i paired them w/ the ones i did)

randy - today today (jack stauber)

the lyrics fit him heaps and it actually makes me a little sad. i didn't write out the entire verse bc i ran out of space but the full part is

"Today, today, is one of those days That carries you slowly into next time And as folks walk by, you see with your eye "Hold me" is repeatedly given

and by GOD is that him. pathetic sad sopping wet man who just needs a hug please give him one oh my god

norm - chemical overreaction (will wood) (you'll notice a pattern later on)

that song has a very midwest cowboy feel to me (the line "Nettles on my saddle and a badge on my vest" is a very big give away), and yeah he IS a chemical overreaction like.. yeah. the line i picked was just the one that stood out to me the most

"My mouth is dry and my eyes are red I’m chewing on sand ‘cause the desert’s in my head" uhh yeah

typegingi - popipo (lamaze-p)

i honestly couldn't think of a song for them because they are just So. if you asked me to make a playlist it would be full of vocaloid bc i feel like theyd listen to it. it plays 24/7 in their mind

"ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽ (x11)"

oliver - things to do (alex g)

oliver was someone i struggled with admittedly, i was gonna go for a lemon demon song bc honestly he gives those freak vibes (he IS two trucks and i stand by that) but i feel like things to do fits too. like read the lyrics its so him (or i have a very skewed view of these characters idk sorry)

"Hold on tight to this time, this place cause Everything you know will be erased You were born inside your head and That is where you'll be when you are dead"

karen - willard! (will wood)

please listen to willard! its so her pretty please pls pls plssss. tired bank worker thats so so tired but wants to see the world. plss...

"You know I couldn't hurt a fly, my friend I'm not the type to step on ants I've nearly cried for moths that die at porchlight lamps More for the plights of mice than men See, I myself have been stepped on so many times It's started to feel like my place I've failed to fit in into those nests that scrape the sky Is there room for me in your cage?"

bigfoot

i did his route over a year ago and didnt do it again during my replay sorry bigfoot fans love you :(

EXPLODES I LOVE EXPLAINING THESE

god/hobo - mr capgras

ITS HIM. LIKE IDKK ITS SAUR HIM.

"What you feel and what you do Are those things really you? And if not, then what is? (Never never never) So, my God, what’s wrong with you? And I’m still asking who that is"

roger - i bet on losing dogs (mitski)

hes so mitski coded its insane. we havent got much from the dialtown teaser but we DO have his dsaf personality to go off, and he was a complete mess in that.

"I bet on losing dogs I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place By the ring Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down I'll be there on their side I'm losing by their side"

peter - a pearl (mitski)

all dsaf holdovers are mitski coded bc it was born into their body the moment they became a phone guy. once again not much to go off in dialtown and ik he seemed rlly chill in what interaction we had but god he is my fav and you can pry my mitski from my cold dead hands. also yeah i reused his art from my dsaf drawing sorrry i didnt think it was worth it redoing the exact same ref

"It's just that I fell in love with a war Nobody told me it ended And it left a pearl in my head And I roll it around every night"

mayor mingus - everything i wanted (billie eilish) / laplace's angel (will wood)

ok i couldnt pick between these two, theyre so different but so similar

everything i wanted is rlly her, like even the title is so mingus. she's dialtowns mayor, she has everything she wants, except her grandfathers recognition and she'll never get it.

"They called me weak Like I'm not just somebody's daughter Coulda been a nightmare But it felt like they were right there And it feels like yesterday was a year ago But I don't wanna let anybody know"

laplace angel is also her to a lesser degree, the song is about the difference between good and bad, and UGH we know mingus is evil but she's also hurting and thats not an excuse and [explodes]. the little (hurt people? hurt people!) that's officially in the song title is also her. like the term "hurt people hurt people" arehghks. the repeated "if you were in my shoes, you'd walk that mile/you'd see i wear the same size as you" like. shit if ppl were in her shoes WOULD they do the same thing?? probably not!! but she feels like she HAS to do these things and assumes that everyone else would do it too. yk. i love mayor mingus so much

"You, could you take a look at me? (Man no more than animal is made of moral chemicals) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (Any form mechanical, thank you God) Ooh, whatever you think of me (From the hordes of cannibals, to psych wards of hospitals) If you were in my shoes, you’d see I wear the same size as you (It’s a small world after all) Oh oh right!"

billy - ???

demons dont get songs.

finally

jerry - half decade hangover (will wood)

hes sooo. even the title is him. like yeah he WOULD be hungover on the job if i was jerry id be pounding vodka by the litre. 12 german shepards each with different illnesses. yeah pass me the margarita (i have never had an alcoholic beverage in my life).

"Wonder how I didn’t die This is not my life, I’m no survivor, I only happened to survive Wonder how I sleep at night Well I count pink elephants, blessings, and skeletons"

if you read to the end, thank u so much (and please go seek therapy). if you have any other song suggests lmk in the replies!! but dont tell me songs wont fit i MIGHT cry. these designs r mostly canon but i added my own flair to them (namely typegingis entire design, god/hobo having dog ear antenna (inspired by my own dt oc having cat ear antenna), peters springlock scars, mingus being way more cat then orignally and also making rogers suit just a LITTLE too big for him, showing how he really isnt fit for this position in his job. he'll grow into it eventually <3)