#My brother tries. I see that he tries I see how hard he tries.

[lionneee]

Let The World Burn

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English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x fem!Reader

•Warnings: murder, kidnapping, attempted rape, omicide, fire.•

“Your boyfriend is a tough one.” He smirked as he walked behind you. You tried to talk against the gag, but all it came out were strangled sounds and whines. “He’s also hard to find.” The man pushed the blindfold down your head, over your eyes.

You trembled on the floor, fear consuming you.

“Way harder than you are anyway.” He chuckled. “But you’ll be more than useful to do the trick. I’d be surprised if I won’t see your pretty boyfriend kicking down the door to get you.”

“Sir- I’m sorry, but the lead we had turned out wrong-“

“Get out!” Aemond raised from the chair of his office, his loud voice filling the room. The private detective quickly left the office, running outside.

Aemond was a complete mess.

He managed to resist two days with your missing, before it completely started to tore him apart. He was completely out of his head, he needed to find you.

He threw the papers on his desk on the floor with all the force he had, then he paced in the room, his hair a mess, his knuckles bloody from the amount of jaws he broke to get any kind of information about your abduction.

“Fuck!” He shouted as he hit the wall with his fist.

“You need to eat.” He said as he walked in the room, taking off your gag by undoing the tie on the back of your head. “We’re not trying to kill you.” He said before freeing your hands, sitting on the chair right in front of you. You looked down at the floor, finding a tray with food and water. You quickly started to eat, you had been starving for days. You looked up at him for a moment, curious about your kidnapper.

White hair.

You scooped back on the floor, managing to get away maybe a couple of inches before hitting the pole you’ve been handcuffed to with your back.

“Daemon.” You mumbled, Your voice was shaking as much as your hands.

“That would be me, princess.” He smirked as he sat back on his chair.

“W-why are you doing this?” You kept stuttering, you were terrified. “I-I didn’t-”

“I know. You didn’t do anything.” He cut you off. “But your boyfriend… My nephew did. He killed someone he shouldn’t have touched.” He looked loosely at you, studying your reaction.

You looked at him confused, your brows arching, your expression contorting into one of confusion, then pain, then disbelief.

“Luke.” You whispered as soon as the realisation hit you. Daemon’s gaze hardened but then he nodded. 

“Smart girl.” He commented. “He killed him. So now I have to kill Aemond.”

“No!” Your voice raised, your eyes filling with tears as soon as you saw the seriousness in his intentions. “Y-you can’t! He’s your family!” You shook your head, your hands flying to the knife on the tray. But Daemon was faster, blocking both of your wrists the moment you moved, and handcuffing them back to the pole behind you. 

“Luke was family too.” He growled. You squirmed, trying to get free, but to no avail. Demon put the gag back on and left you to cry as he walked away again in the darkness of the room.

“They’re trying to torture you, brother.” Aegon said as he looked at his brother. He was leaning against his desk table, his nails scraping the expensive wood. His head was hung down, his hair covering his face. “You have to get yourself back together. We have to think of strategies on how to take them down.”

His brother was the last one that had a right to say something like that to Aemond.

They took his girl, damn it.

“Get out.” Aemond growled. 

It had been weeks since the last time he got a proper sleep. He was cold, his bed was colde.

You weren’t there to warm it for him.

To warm him.

His fingers ached to feel your skin again, so soft, and smooth.

He missed your scent, even more now, since the pillow lost any trace of it. 

The first days he pressed his face in it, and fucked his hand.

Then he would just scream in it, then fall asleep surrounded by your scent.

The day he couldn't smell you anymore, he thought he might actually go crazy, for good.

He missed you.

And he needed you, he knew it now better than ever.

“I’m impressed by your lack of preparation for this kind of situation.” She immediately sat up, her eyes snapping open at the sound of his voice. Daemon pushed the tray towards her and she  quickly lunged forward to at least drink some water.

“W-why? Why now?” She looked up at him and he took off her handcuffs. She quickly grabbed some bread from the tray and started eating it.

There was no scheme on the timing of her meals. They seemed random, and curiosity was keeping her mind full.

She didn’t know why she cared so much to find that out, if it was boredness or just a way to escape the fear.

Daemon chuckled as he sat on the chair as usual.

“You think you’re having a hard time, uh? Being kidnapped, staying here, in the darkness and coldness.” He let out a scoff. “You eat whenever Rhaenyra eats.” He explained. 

Rhaenyra.

“S-so that’s your first thought when you see her eat? Feed me?”

“You’re not the victim here. Whatever you’re going through, is nothing compared to Rhaenyra’s pain. You’re hungry? You’re scared? She’s grieving a son..” He hissed as he stood up, walking closer, squeezing your cheeks in his hand. 

Your eyes filled with tears as she only tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a son.

To lose something that you made, that you gave birth to. That you raised and loved.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as strong conflicting emotions grew inside you.

How could you love Aemond, knowing he was the cause of such pain?

Knowing he was capable of killing one of his own family, knowing that the pain Rhaenyra is suffering now, is bigger than anything Aemond could have gone through when he lost his eye.

“You…” He clenched his jaw. “You are going to suffer. You are going to stay here, with fear eating you alive. The fear that I might come in, and beat you, not feed you ever again, touch you, rape you.” He growled, his face a mask of fury. You whined as he clenched his hands on your cheeks, hurting you, and tried to break free, but he was determined to keep you there.

“And whenever one of those things will happen.” He moved closer, his face inches from yours. “You better remember, this is all Aemond’s fault.” He then pressed his lips against yours, but it wasn't out of affection or desire.

Or better, it wasn’t about sexual desire.

It was a promise that he will act on his threats.

“Listen, Aemond, you have to face it. She’s gone. They’re letting you think she’s still alive only to mess with you, okay? We have a war to win, we can’t let an insignificant girl reduce you like-”

Aemond just snapped.

An insignificant girl? She was the love of his life.

Aemond quickly wrapped a hand around Aegon's neck, squeezing tight as he pushed him back against the wall.

“What did you say?” He hissed, his voice low and dangerous. Aegon widened his eyes, struggling against his brother's hold.

“L-Listen man-” Aegon’s voice was strained due to the lack of air. “J-just saying, okay? She was pretty and all but-”

“But nothing.” He shoved Aegon away, letting him fall on the floor. “I’m giving you two more days.” He said as he sat back on his chair behind his desk. “Then I’ll burn the world to the fucking ground, with you in it.”

“Wake up!” You heard a loud yell, a male voice that snapped you out of your moment of sleep.

“I said, wake up!” He yelled again, grabbing your hair and yanking your face up from the floor.

You let out a sharp scream at the pain then went through your head.

“Tell me where he is.” Daemon crunched down in front of you, his hand closing into a fist and pulling your hair harder. You whined loudly as you tried to raise your head to reduce the pain, but it was useless, you were too tired, too weak.

“I don’t know..:” You sobbed, opening your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the strong light that was pointed at your face.

You’ve spent days, maybe even weeks in darkness, your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, let alone such a strong one.

“Bullshit. Start talking.” He growled as he tugged at your hair.

“I swear I don’t!” You sobbed. “We never met in any place of his business, I don’t know!” You cried desperately.

Daemon let out a loud grunt, shoving your head back and sending it against the pole behind you.

Your vision blurred as your body slowly grew weaker to even stay awake.

The last thing you heard was:

“Arrange her funeral. Rhaenys deserves it.”

“It’s been months.” Helaena said as she sat beside him on his couch.

“She’s not dead.” Aemond grunted. His elbows rested on his knees, the palms of his hands holding his head.

He was tired of people remembering him how long it had passed.

He had already been too patient, but Aegon had only one day left.

Then he was going to take the world, and destroy it piece by piece until he’d found her.

“If she would have been dead we would have found the body already.” Helaena patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I don’t think she’s dead. I… I can feel it.” She whispered.

Aemond clenched his hands into fists.

He had always been the first to push Helaena back, telling her that the way she just felt things was absurd and surreal. 

Useless.

“Me too.” He breathed out, passing his hand through his hair in frustration. “She is alive.” He stood up and walked to his desk again.

That was when Aegon stormed inside.

“Found her.”

“Stay away!” You yelled as Daemon grabbed your ankle, dragging you towards him.

“Shut up, bitch.” He growled as he hovered over you, pinning your wrists over your head with one hand, and slapping your face with the other. “You’re just a cheap whore he bought. He doesn’t care about you, he’s not going to save you.” He hissed as he settled between your legs, thrusting his hips between your thighs, making clear his intention. “You’re only good for one thing.” He put his hand over one of your breasts, groping it tightly, making you whine and cry in pain. “He has left you behind. He left you to me.”

You screamed and kicked your feet, trying to get him off of you, but it seemed impossible.

“No! No, please no!” You sobbed as you kept squirming. “Don’t touch me! Please, I’m so sorry for Rhaenyra, please!” You cried desperately, but he simply smiled.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, in a sickening, mad way. “Shut the fuck up.” He laughed even more. “You’re mine now. You’re my prize. My trophy.”

“No -” You screamed as soon as he grabbed your knee to spread your legs, so he could grind against you. Daemon tried to kiss you, but you quickly turned your head, and screamed again as you saw a wooden wall catching fire quickly.

Daemon’s head quickly turned as he smelled the smoke and saw the fire lighting the room.

He quickly stood up as he looked at the fire, which kept eating everything it found.

“Kill anyone you see. I’ll go get her.” He told Aegon before entering the house. He put on his mask and walked in the big fog of smoke, his gun in hand.

Everyone was quickly running out, no one seemed to see or care about him as he walked inside.

Pieces of the house were starting to fall, the fire was burning everything it found.

Then he heard a scream, and his ears suddenly perked out.

He quickly ran toward the scream, stepping to a side of the house that hadn’t really picked up fire yet. He stopped in front of a door and quickly kicked it open the moment he heard another scream.

The fire in the room lightened the room enough for Aemond to see the scene clearly.

Daemon was on top of you.

And he was touching you.

Aemond's vision went red.

With a feral growl, he raised his gun, the barrel pointed directly at Daemon’s head. Before Daemon could react, a single deafening gunshot rang through the room. The bullet struck Daemon squarely in the shoulder, knocking him off of you with a roar of pain.

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Aemond snarled, stepping closer as Daemon writhed on the floor. His icy blue eye burned with rage, his jaw clenched so tight it could crack. He aimed the gun again, this time pointing at Daemon’s crotch, shaking with the force of his fury.

Daemon’s scream of pain almost shook the walls of the room, but Aemond couldn’t care less.

You were trembling, tears streaming down your face as you scrambled back against the pole where your wrists were still handcuffed to. Aemond’s gaze flicked to you, softening for just a moment. His chest heaved as he took in your disheveled appearance, the bruises on your wrists, the fear in your eyes. His heart broke and hardened all at once.

“You’ll die here, Daemon.” Aemond spat, his voice cold and merciless. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger again, this time hitting Daemon’s leg. A scream tore from Daemon’s throat, but his laughter didn’t stop, maddeningly unhinged.

“You think this will bring her back to you? She knows what you’ve done.” Daemon wheezed. “She’ll never look at you the same.”

Aemond's eye narrowed. He took a step closer and delivered a swift, brutal kick to Daemon’s side, silencing him momentarily. He quickly searched him to find the keys to your handcuffs and as soon as he found them he turned back to you, crouching low and reaching out carefully.

“It’s me, baby." He murmured, his voice gentler now. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You flinched at first, but as recognition dawned, you started sobbing uncontrollably. Aemond quickly freed your wrists and wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other gripping you like he’d never let go. “You’re safe now." He whispered, rocking you gently despite the chaos around you. “No one will ever touch you again. I swear it.”

The sound of creaking wood snapped him back to the present. The fire was spreading rapidly, consuming the walls and ceiling. Aemond stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as he carried you out of the room.

You could see Daemon still looking at you, a sad smile on his face.

You almost pitied him, despite knowing who he was, and what he just tried to do to you, you still felt sorry for him.

Because the man that was now carrying you out of the house in fire, had won a third time, and with that, the whole war.

That man, Aemond, destroyed their life, and killed them inside the moment he shot Luke’s head.

Aemond paused at the doorway, glancing back at Daemon, who was slumped on the floor, bleeding and coughing. “Burn in hell." Aemond said coldly before turning and carrying you out of the burning house.

Even if you did want to leave, where could you go?

Aemond looked down at you as he carried you outside, and you coughed because of the smoke. His eyes studied carefully your face as his hands tightened around you.

He was not going to let you go, so where could you go?

Aemond gently placed you in his car and before walking to the driver seat, he gently caressed your face.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, baby.”

A shiver went down your spine, and suddenly, a feeling you never thought you would feel with Aemond spreaded in your chest.

Fear.

Because even if you wanted to leave, there was nowhere to go. 

You were stuck with a serial killer that loved you.

Taglist: @ka1afbr@cynic-spirit@ladythornofrivia@zenka69@queenofthekeep@adorewhatever@diannnnsss@kotadislikesthissite@iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevaghar

[opiopal]

one thing that often crosses my mind, is the brothers watching mams fall in love with Mc and they just can’t bring themselves to be upset about it,

Because all of a sudden he’s getting lost in thought staring at them, he starts to actually save some money just to buy things for them, he gets bashful whenever they’re around and tries extra hard to tell a story or two were he seems cool.

At first they think it’s laughable(and maybe a little pathetic), but every time they go to tease him about it the only thing he can really manage is a simple “shut up” before continuing on, mostly because he knows they’re right. He’s inlove with a human.. and so what!? He’s the Avatar of Greed! One of the seven lords! The Great Mammon! He can do whatever he wants, however he wants, whenever he wants!

but as time passes he doesn’t even say anything back to them when they go to tease, maybe one day asmo leans over to ask what he could be staring at- only for mams to not even mumble anything back or look his way, because he’s just so occupied with staring at Mc who’s just across the room. Maybe they aren’t even doing anything, maybe they’re in class and the teacher called mc up to do a problem on the board- or maybe they’re at diavolos place and mc is chatting with someone. Whatever it is, the look in mammons eyes is enough to not make asmo offended from being blatantly ignored. Sure he knows he couldn’t understand what mams see’s in that human, but knows love when he see’s it. so, over time as asmo starts to watch his brother and the human, he gains a small appreciation for their dorky little relationship… though the appreciation stops being small since he fan girls whenever he see’s them holding hands or whenever mams rushes over to gift mc something small, only for mc to gush and act as if he just gave them the entire world! They’re both just the cutest together!! And he has no idea how he didn’t see it before!? Sure it’s funny to his older brother acting a fool,(when is he not?) but it’s adorable to watch him stumble over himself when doing something as simple as walking Mc to class! It’s just so cute!!

asmo then starts defending mams whenever the others say something or try to tease, maybe at first it’s a quick, “oh don’t say that,” “they’re cute! Don’t be so rude!” “Oh guys don’t tease,” But one day, when mc and mammon both leave the dining room, maybe to go grab something or to do a task that clearly doesn’t need two people, and asmo pipes up, ”you know, im serious,”

everyone turns to look at him a little confused,

“..as in they’re absolutely adorable together!”

“oh barf.” Levi says, not looking up from his phone, a few others mumble in agreement,

“what! You guys seriously can’t say you haven’t noticed how mammon is around them, it’s the cutest!”

There’s a moment of silence at the table and Asmo huffs,

“come on, when was the last time any of you saw him saving his money to buy someone ELSE something?? It’s clear he’s taking this seriously!”

they all take a second to think before exchanging looks with each other,

then from that point they all start to really pay attention- honestly, I could imagine mc and mams not really being quite open with their relationship when they finally do make it official, but they are REALLY bad at hiding it. so the entire household takes notice once the two start holding hands more often, giggling at seemingly nothing at all, running off together randomly at different points in the day, sitting much closer together during meals, and the two are always touching each other, from a full on grab to just leaning on each other. So of course instead of mocking mams for his feelings.. the teasing moves on to flustering the two about their very obvious not-so-secret relationship. Even luci joins in, occasionally asking mc when they’ll marry his little brother, which flusters the both of them. And unfortunately causes the others to join in.

at least they’re supportive<3

[ghostgirl-22]

im imagining one of the many times patrick is begging to fuck art he suddenly says something like “just let me put the tip in at least baby” and art isn’t in the right mind to see why he shouldn’t cause theyre grinding against each other and licking into each other’s mouths so it shouldn’t be much different. patrick cums so quickly too

Whoops anon this is gonna be a 2 for 1. I hope you don’t mind <3 But Patrick begging made me think it’s perfect for the holiday challenge too so… here’s Art staying over a few nights during winter break. Post Patrick dragging him to his dad’s office Christmas party where him and his brother dressed up like Santa (for some Christmas themed reason) sorry this is all over the place anon. <3

Deck the halls 🎄💫

Day 15: Begging

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

Pair: Artrick

—-

“I think you’re so pretty,” Patrick whispers, he’s still wearing the santa hat, and coat, drunk on spiked egg nog. His dad doesn’t even celebrate Christmas but his office sure knows how to put on a Christmas party.

“Shut up,” Art says, but he’s smiling his stupid pretty little half smile.

They stole candy canes from the Christmas tree in the lobby of his dad’s office, even though Patrick’s stupid brother said they couldn’t. And thank god, because Art’s still sucking on his. Lips stained red, cheeks all flushed— Patrick meant it when he kept telling him all night he’d make the perfect Santa’s elf. “You just blush so yummy,” He teased relentlessly, “especially after Santa fucks you.” That was when Art pushed him away.

Art’s all risky business right now, nothing on but his dress shirt, boxers and socks. His slacks are draped over the chair in the corner of Patrick’s bedroom. He’d wanted them off since he spilled a bit of egg nog on them and Patrick teased him for the way it stained.

Patrick grabs at Arts tie and he steps closer to where Patrick’s sitting on his bed, stopping between Patrick’s legs as Patrick loosens it.

“Come sit on Santa’s lap,” Patrick says, grinning.

Art rolls his eyes, but he’s so soft about it. “You’re so stupid when you drink. You know that right?”

“Come on, sit on my lap. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“The perfect backhand,” Art says.

“I’m Santa, not Jesus,” Patrick points out and Art shoves him. Patrick laughs and grabs onto his arm pulling him closer still, takes him by the waist and lifts at his dress shirt. “Come on, lemme fuck you.”

“Don’t do that— they’re right next door,” Art says, pulling the candy cane from his mouth and turning to look at the closed door like Patrick’s brother and his wife are just going to appear in his room out of thin air. When they don’t, he pops it back into his mouth. Patrick keeps touching him. He’s not concerned about how close they are, they’re really boring and Patrick is 100 percent certain they’re probably already asleep.

But he tries to ease Arts nerves anyway. “Please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Patrick sighs, talking to Art’s pretty waist. Art’s got the perfect little belly button. Patrick presses his lips there and feels Art suck it in as he tangles his fingers into Patrick’s hair.

“What are you doing?” He giggles cause he’s ticklish and he pushes Patrick’s head away for the same reason.

“Trying to fuck you,” Patrick sighs. He gets to his feet and he’s suddenly in Art’s face. Art steps back but Patrick steps closer and pulls the candy cane out of Art’s mouth. He presses his lips there instead. Art opens up for him right away. His kisses are sweet like peppermint. And he’s licking and sucking on Patrick’s tongue as if he tastes like candy too. Patrick settles on the edge of the bed again excited at the way Art’s following him. He crawls onto Patrick’s lap so he can keep kissing. Patrick’s hard. Like cut diamonds hard, he’s been halfway there all night. He’s going insane at Art’s tendency to mindlessly grind against it. He’s imagining thrusting inside him, imagining how Art would feel, how he’d react. Art’s already so sensitive all over. Almost like his body was made for sex, Patrick just wants to test it out.

Patrick lays back on the bed resting on his elbows and he puts the candy in his own mouth watching as Art blinks himself into awareness now that he’s not kissing Patrick’s mouth anymore. Patrick can tell he still wants to grind. His hips aren’t moving fast but he’s still gently rolling them along the bulge in Patrick’s pants.

”Fucking please.” Patrick says, quietly. “All I want for Christmas is just to nut in you just once.”

“You’re so fucking…” Art licks his lips. He’s breathless. Kiss swollen. Flushed. Every time Patrick thinks he couldn’t possibly want him more, he gets prettier.

“I will fucking do anything,” Patrick begs. He says, undoing the buttons on Arts dress shirt.

“Patrick,” Art says matter of factly. “Your brother is next door.”

“And I’ll be so quiet. And if you need to you can moan into my pillow. Please. Pretty please. I wanna fill you up and watch it spill out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Art says softly, but he’s squirming.

“I know, I know I am,” Patrick grins, he bites into the candy cane, finishing it off. “But you like it.”

God the blushing. The way he can’t sit still. Patrick hopes he doesn’t lose it in his fucking pants before he even gets inside or all this begging will be for nothing.

“I um— I don’t think I can— your so— so much, Patrick, ” Art says, suddenly shy.

Patrick can’t help himself. He’s grinning like crazy. “Just tell me it’s too big. Tell me it won’t fit.”

“You’re such a freak, ‘m not sayin that,” Art says, he’s blushing something fierce. “I’m just saying…”

“Fine fuck it… what if it’s just the tip? Lemme put in the tip.”

Art sighs, a little smirk on his lips. “You’re so fucking obsessed.”

“Yeah well fucking look at you, princess. Of course I’m obsessed.” Patrick groans. He’s undone all the buttons on Arts shirt and he’s fixating on Art’s bare chest, his perky pink nipples.

Art rolls his eyes at the “princess” comment and Patrick grabs at either side of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss. It’s only moments before Art’s gasping into his mouth and Patrick’s sure if they keep this up he’s gonna come hard in his pants. He rolls them over so he can get Art on his back. And slowly, he pulls back from the kiss. Art’s following, sitting up on his elbows.

“Can I please? Just the tip, baby, pretty pretty please?” Patrick begs.

Art bites his lip and then nods. Patrick doesn’t waste any time, he tugs at Art’s boxers. Slides them off.

Art falls into a sudden fit of giggles and Patrick can’t help smiling at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s your santa hat. I just started thinking about you putting me on the naughty list if I didn’t blow you or something.”

Patrick laughs, he’d forgotten he was wearing it still. He pulls it off his head and gives it to Art. Pulls the coat off and drops it on the floor so he’s only in his t-shirt. “For the record I think you’re just the nicest boy.” Patrick says, looking over his dick. It’s so pretty, flushed purple and so full it’s resting heavy on his tummy. “So so nice.”

“You’re so fucking horny, shut up,” Art whispers and Patrick laughs and undoes his own pants kicking them off. Art’s just watching him. “If you put in more than the tip I’m gonna scream and wake up your brother.” He says quietly as Patrick eases himself out of his boxers. It’s clear he’s getting nervous but the way he says it makes Patrick snicker.

“I’m sure you will.” He says smirking as he rubs his palm over Art’s upper thigh. “I have lube in there, it tastes like cotton candy.” Patrick says, gently. Gesturing to his night stand.

“You fucked someone else in here?” Art asks, curiously.

“My summer time girlfriend. But I bought it for you cause your so fucking special.”

“Cotton candy?” Art makes a face.

“Shut the fuck up and get it.”

Art rolls over and pulls open the drawer, digging around. Patrick’s fixating on his ass. He rubs it gently. Almost climbs on top of him and pushes the head in right then and there. There’s so many things he wants to do to this ass. He’s seen Art’s bare bottom quite a few times when they were in school together, Art coming out of the shower. Patrick acting like he’s fine and then sneaking into the bathroom afterwards to touch himself.

“You have a lot of weed,” Art says as he pulls out a bottle from his night stand and inspects it. Same little unimpressed look on his face.

“Taste it,” Patrick says.

“Ew,” Art says.

“Fine give it,” Patrick says and snatches it away from him. He pulls one of Art’s legs up onto his shoulder to get him closer and Art does the same with his other leg. He’s just got on socks and the open dress shirt. Patrick wants him so bad. He wants him so fucking bad. Wants to be balls fucking deep in him for hours. At least an hour. Just wants to fuck him like crazy till he’s falling apart on his dick.

He coats himself in lube. Art’s holding his breath, there’s a wet spot on his tummy from where his dick is leaking. Patrick lines himself up and Art’s inhaling as Patrick presses up against his hole.

Fuck. He’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to fucking do this. Art’s so feverishly warm and virgin tight. Patrick’s struggling just to get the head in.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. “Oh fuck, you’ve never even put your fingers in here, have you? Holy shit.”

“W-why would I d-do that?” Art whines, pitched too high and too soft. Squirming beneath him. Patrick shivers.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Patrick says breathlessly as he slowly, so achingly slowly, feels Art’s body open up around the head of his dick.

Art is making these little whiny noises, each sound going straight to Patrick’s dick. He can’t sit still, he’s wiggling like crazy and it’s barely… fucking… in.

“Holy shit,” Patrick gasps, he’s throbbing, aching. He strokes himself twice and he’s halfway fucking done.

“Oh my… fuck… oh Patrick it feels so….mm weird,” Art whines. And it’s too fucking much. Patrick pushes just a little more in… thinks he might just start fucking him… but it’s pointeless because just that little bit of movement combined with Art’s whining and wiggling and Patrick is suddenly gasping through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

“Fuck,” Patrick gasps breathlessly as he slips out, all his spend leaking out just after. “Goddamnit,” he groans. He’s literally never come that fucking fast in his life.

”Mm,” Art giggles. “I kinda like the tip.”

“Fuck,” Patrick sighs again, running his fingers tips along Arts legs. “You did that to me. You make me fucking insane.”

”I didn’t do anything,” Art says, grinning. “And you didn’t either.” He adds. He’s such a fucking brat.

Patrick adjusts Art’s legs so they’re on either side of Patrick’s waist and he leans over, buries his head against Art’s neck and shoulder, placing little kisses there. All while grabbing onto his dick. Art starts moaning right away as Patrick jerks him. He lasts longer than Patrick but not that much more before Patrick feels the wet hot spurt of liquid spilling between their bodies.

Patrick collapses on top of him when Arts finished. Feels him trying to catch his breath. He curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair and Patrick kisses at his throat, finishing a hickey he’d started.

“Next time I’m just gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes against his throat.

Art snorts, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll last longer than 30 seconds.”

“So then you agree? I get to fuck you next time,” Patrick says, grinning up at him.

Art rolls his eyes, but there’s hope— because he’s smiling too.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's struggles

authors note: this is super short and not anything major. literally wrote this in like half an hour. i could expound on it if people are interested. just wanted to give some insight to what it was like for roso and leya dealing with her ocd when she was younger.

only gonna tag a few people. if i end up expounding on it, i'll tag my usual "everyone" list.

words: 800

masterlist

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in children

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starts to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the suv behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, she directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, Solana only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling as her little chest moves up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of Leya’s episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers before doing it all over again. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice as her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 14)

Contains: no warnings really

Wordcount: ~2.44k

Masterlist of this story

It was a grey afternoon when Aegon Targaryen finally arrived two days later.

There was a gathering, fanfares and music for the future lord of the seven kingdoms and in addition to Maera and the court there were also some common borns that watched as the crown prince hugged his father.

"My son is back!" he shouted and proudly patted his shoulders.

Aegon had grown into a handsome and slender man, silver blonde of hair and a pronounced jaw. He smiled shyly and waved to the people and then made his way to greet the rest of his family that he hadn't seen in so long.

Maera returned her brother's croaked smirk and then closed her eyes when he wrapped his arms around her.

"How are you, sister? I've heard so much…"

"I'm fine. And very happy."

The hug had lasted only a few seconds and then he held her a little away from him to examin her accurately.

"It's very good to see you," he said after a while and then was quick to turn to Daemon.

"Uncle," he spoke a lot more reserved.

An amused smirk played around the addressed's lips and he inhaled deeply.

"Nephew. How was your tour? I haven't heard a great deal about it."

"No wonder. You seemed to have been occupied elsewhere. Getting my sister pregnant, for example," Aegon hissed sharply and flashed his eyes at Daemon.

Maera's uncle watched him with a mixture of amusement and menace.

"Be careful with your words. You wouldn't want to humiliate your sister in front of the whole court, would you?"

His nephew scoffed and shook his head.

"That's not what I'm after, no. But it seems like that's what you had in mind when you kidnapped her and dragged her to dragonstone."

Maera just had to intervene now and tried to push her brother away from her husband.

"Please Aegon. Don't make a scene. Everything is fine, you don't need to step in for me."

"I'm not making a scene," he answered the anger clearly showing off in his voice. "I'm trying to defend my sister and restore her honour. If there's anything left of it."

Now it was her uncle that narrowed his eyes at the crown prince and his facial expression turned cold.

"Now you're insulting your sister. And as her husband it is my place to tell you that you're not to say another thing about my wife's honour. Have I made myself clear?"

Aegon chuckled and flared his nostrils in the next moment. "It's not your place to tell me what to do!"

To Maera's relief her father finally noticed the confrontation between his brother and his son and he furrowed his brow while approaching the scene. She sighed thinking that someone with a certain authority would finally deescalate whatever this was.

"Aegon," he hissed and placed hand on his shoulder. "Behave yourself."

Unwillingly his son took his eyes off Daemon and instead glared at the king.

"How can you accept this? How can you host him like that and feast with him in your own halls??"

Maera instinctively reached out to her uncle and blindly searched for his hand which he gave her and she gripped it tightly.

"This is a lawful marriage, son. And you wouldn't actually assume that I would send my own brother away and deny him a place in my court, would you? You should apologize to your uncle for questioning his marriage."

For the first time Aegon seemed defensive and lowered his gaze. His father observed him expectantly and seemingly waited for another complain but he just looked like he was searching the ground for something until he lifted his gaze again to glance at his uncle.

"Forgive me, uncle," he breathed and judging by the way he had gulped, these words had been hard for him to say.

The addressed nodded graciously and this smug smile just wouldn't vanish from his face.

Soon the process made their way back to the castle and in the meantime Viserys announced that there would be a feast in honour of the crown prince's return tonight and the surrounding lords and ladies cheered and smiled at the royal family.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evening a couple of handmaidens helped Maera prepare herself for the glorious ball that her father had described the upcoming feasting as and watched the crimson velvet fabric of her dress in awe. It exposed her collar bones and was tight on her torso which made it a form-fitting gown fit for a wedded princess. The dress fell down to the ground looking both heavy and effortless at the same time with the hem touching the ground just slightly like a brush of a finger. She also wore a necklace that felt cold when it touched her but its rubin looked glorious on her light skin.

Daemon who had gotten dressed in a different room knocked on her door just when she was finished and Maera thought that he might be able to read her thoughts.

His eyes flashed up when he laid them on her the first time and he unshamelessly regarded her whole body. Under his gaze Maera felt both intimidated and beautiful and suddenly she felt like her skin was in flames.

"You look stunning," he whispered so quietly that she knew those words were only meant for her ears. "Absolutely beautiful."

Maera broke into a smile and felt this familiar heat between her legs when her husband pressed a kiss on her forehead. She felt like she was turning into an animal when he was that way. When he gave her these intense eyes, watched her as if she was all he had ever wanted and spoke to her so gently that Maera believed she genuinely had never been loved by someone like this before.

"Thank you," she breathed and tried to focus. It indeed was a bad time to feel heated because there was a feast they had to attend and so Maera exhaled a few times and she savoured the breeze that came with the opening of the door. The dizziness faded and she felt stronger on her feet as Daemon guided her through the corridor heading to the throne room.

They were greeted by her brother who actually seemed to pull himself together and returned the honest smile Maera gave him. Then they took their seat next to the king and Maera let her eyes wander over the room.

The hall was generously decorated with candles, tapestries and the Targaryen banner majestically towering beside the king's table. A group of musicians played lively music and lords and ladies were already exuberantly dancing in the middle of the room. Soon Maera felt too excited and jittery to sit around and questioningly looked at Daemon.

"I wish to dance, uncle."

He had just lifted his cup to his mouth and watched her with raised eyebrows while taking a sip of wine. Then he placed it back on the table in front of him and a playful smirk appeared on his lips.

"Is that so?" he asked and ran his hand over his wife's thigh.

"Please. I don't want to sit around all night."

He chuckled lightly but then sighed and got off his chair.

"Alright. If I may?" he asked sarcastically while offering his niece his hand. She felt a bubbly feeling in her tummy and joyfully took his hand.

Daemon guided her down the few steps to the dance floor where she spotted several lords of her father's small council as well as his hand. Her husband rested one of his hands on her waist and then the couple started to move to the music.

Maera smiled up to him. He looked so gorgeous in this light and she simply loved it when his eyes turned so soft and loving. There was a smile on his mouth as well and right now there was nothing sarcastic about it. It was a genuine, honest smile and she couldn't help but feel proud knowing that she was one of the few people in this world who got to see it. Gods, she wanted him so badly in every way someone could want a man. She wanted him to love her, hold her, touch her and praise her. And seven hells, she wanted to carry his child again.

"Kiss me," Maera whispered quietly and now his smile turned into a smirk again.

"Tsk tsk. That's not the kind of behaviour fit for a princess," he said with his raspy voice and Maera swore she felt her heart beat faster just because of the sound of his voice.

"Please," she demanded again and this time Daemon inhaled loudly but looked amused rather than annoyed.

He leaned down and pressed his soft lips on hers. She knew that it was not only inappropriate but also disrespectful towards her brother who had so explicitely expressed his dislike regarding her marriage to Daemon earlier but she couldn't care less. The only thing Maera cared about was the gorgeous man in front of her who only loved her.

But the kiss didn't last long either way because he soon pulled away hinting at the fact that unlike her, he hadn't utterly forgotten about his good manners. He watched her glossy eyes that showed how much she yearned for him smugly and then ran his thumb over her waist just very slightly.

"You're making it very hard for me not to take you away from the feast and up to my room right now."

Maera felt goosebumps on her arms but just when she wanted to answer the music suddenly stopped and the dance was over. That was also the moment when someone approached Daemon from behind and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"If that's not Daemon Targaryen," a voice said and Maera blinked a few times trying to figure out who the slim small man was.

"Otis," Daemon chuckled and didn't seem to have any difficulties recognizing him.

"Maera, this is Otis, a good friend from my childhood. And Otis, I don't believe I have to introduce the princess to you."

She smiled when the man bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand.

"It's very nice to meet you, ser," she said. "We haven't seen each other in years, have we?"

Otis asked and grinned at his old friend. "That much is true."

"How about a drink together? We have so much to talk about."

Daemon nodded but then his eyes fell upon his wife. He really didn't feel like leaving her alone especially considering the fact that there were so many lustful lords in this room who were probably only waiting for a chance to creep up on her. But at the same time Daemon didn't want to reject his friend and he really wanted to know what he had been up to those past years. So he would just have to trust his wife.

"I will be back soon, love. I'm just gonna go sit outside with Otis for a little while so we can catch up," he spoke and kissed Maera on her forehead. "Don't do anything stupid, you understand me?"

She nodded and observed her husband while he rubbed over her shoulder one last time before heading out with his friend. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man staring at her at first but once Daemon had left the hall she turned her head only to look right into the eyes of Cylvin Lannister.

She had known him since she was a child and had always despised him. She hated the way his eyes clenched and Maera had found herself feeling scared of him as a child but now he just disgusted her. His company was definitely the last thing she wished for now so the girl started to make her way through the crowd but unfortunately he was faster than her and managed to cut her way off by stepping in front of her.

"Princess," he said and bowed his head.

Maera gave him a forced smile that he seemingly couldn't distinguish from an authentic one because he took it as an invitation to kiss her hand.

"You look lovely tonight, my princess."

"Thank you," she said curtly.

"I hope your husband is aware of his luck. Having the most beautiful woman in the room at his side, I mean." Cylvin grinned and she felt the urge to throw up right in this moment.

"He is, thank you," Maera answered and was certain that by now her disgust was clearly visible on her face. "Will you please excuse me now, ser? My father has asked for my presence."

She gave him her sweetest smile but before she was able to turn around and walk away he stopped her by placing his hand on her shoulder.

"But sweet child, your father seems pretty engrossed in a conversation, he can surely do without your presence for a few more minutes."

At this point Maera grew very angry and was about to give a snappy answer when she heard another voice.

"Excuse me ser, but he can't. You won't mind me escorting the princess to his grace now."

She turned around and looked into the familiar face of lord Jakor Hightower, a lord in her father's council. Cylvin grinded his teeth but acted indifferently towards him.

"Of course, yes."

The rest of his mumbling Maera couldn't understand but it didn't matter now because he had turned around and left the dance floor. The girl exhaled loudly and looked at her saviour.

"Thank you, my lord."

He smirked at her croakedly. "You're very welcome, princess. I saw you and believed that you might need some rescue."

Maera chuckled and was able to relax now in lord Jakor's presence, who she had always liked for his calm and even-tempered character.

"Yes, he… I've never liked him and he wouldn't leave me alone."

"I don't like him either. He smells of burnt hair, for some weird reason. And spoiled cheese."

Maera had to laugh out loudly and then furrowed her brow.

"I don't like his eyes. They're mean and… evil."

Jakor looked at her thoughtfully but then smiled softly.

"Don't think about his eyes then. May I have this next dance, princess?"

She only fought for a brief moment with herself. He had rescued her so it would be rude to refuse.

And it was only a dance after all and Maera knew Daemon to like and respect the lord as well.

He surely wouldn't have anything against it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I swear, the next chapter will be longer!!

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog @chiminies-noona

[seeking-elsewhither]

me watching the phantom menace be like:

IT'S A SASSY PADA-OBIIIII

Oh Asla— I mean Master Qui-Gon Jinn, a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last

eheheheh Qui-Gon and Padme constantly bickering is so dad and daughter of them ngl

why did nobody warn me I was gonna lowkey ship Qui-Gon and Shmi??? I am NOT a shipper why am I shipping these two hWAT—

sneefle, not Qui-Gon lifting Anakin into his pod ;-;

oh Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon banter I am HERE FOR IT

cri because *swipes my sleeve under my nose* because because in the council scene and and it's like like the prodigal son with obi wan and anakin but it looks and sounds like qui gon's gonna replace obi wan and obi wan's jus tryna be the best and goodest padawan and student and follow to the letter

and obi wan coulda just stood by and let the council dunk on qui gon but he stepped up and told em he could do it he could be a jedi knight

and he questions his master and his master takes it all in stride and he feels bad and apologizes to his master later

and he doesn hate anakin even if he should because he's sorta like a replacement (though qui gon just saw his two prentices) but he doesn hate anakin and he still loves his new little brother-sorry-fellow-padawan even though he has every right to hate him because

because that's obi wan - a kind man, a good man, true and brave, who tries so so hard and so so much and hopes he'll be noticed and he's gentle-spirited and dear and

sobs because he's just like meeeee

I have a thing for brothers where the elder very clearly loves the younger despite it all — Boromir and Faramir, Thor and Loki, Hunter and Crosshair, Peter and Edmund, Savage and Maul, Obi-Wan and Anakin

And the beautiful thing about all of them? All those younger brothers love their elder brothers too. Maybe you don't see it in their faces or their deeds or their words — until, until, until you do

and it, it breaks me every time, because they love each other so so very dearly and truly, but neither believe so. they each always think the love is solely on his end, only I love him in our relationship, he doesn't feel the same way, but that's okay, it's okay, if the love isn't returned, if he doesn't feel as I do, I'll still love him, even if he never loves me back, even if he hates me, even if he cuts himself off, even if the world ends, even in my grave, even if he tears me to pieces and breaks my heart a billion times, I'll still love him

*wipes face* wow so uhhhh I just sobbed over that I'm good

oh also, MAUL

or should I say SMAUL did you see how littol he looked next to the neimoidians?

I like how when Qui Gon and Maul are separated by a ray shield, Qui Gon decides to calm down while Maul paces - it's like staring at contrasts, Jedi and Sith, Light and Dark, Patience and Impatience

audibly squealed when Maul came on-screen because omg hiii doomed brother no. 972428

I still can't believe I ended up liking Maul this much. always knew he was an interesting character, and the phantom menace does well to establish him, but tcw fleshes him out— I mean, not, not literally, cuz he's half, half metal— anyways they made him a pretty intriguing character and that's impressive

oh look a young sheev— PLEASE LET ME SHOOT HIM IN THE FACE IT WOULD FIX SO MUCH IN THE GALAXY I BEG YOU

NO QUI-GON

NOT ONE OF THE OG SPACE DADS NOOOOO

sobs Obi Wan ever so kindly assuring Anakin that he'd look after him

[factual-fantasy]

27 asks! Thanks everyone!! :}} 🍭

@p0wer-up21

Thank you so much! And actually, I can! :D While I was watching episode 4 I saw Gummigoo with his brothers and felt kind'a bad for my Gummigoo.. having to leave them behind like that.. And you know me and brothers. I cant separate them permanently like that XDD

So I changed up my AU! In episode 2 instead of just Pomni and Gummigoo clipping through the floor while Max, Chad and the Rig blast into the sky... I decided that the whole Rig and all 4 of them all clipped through the map together.

The 3 of them have their existential moments and find the strength to move on thanks to Pomni. She brings them back to he circus and convinces Caine to let them stay. Since then the 4 of them have been a tight knit friend group, and they basically follow each other everywhere. Although it sucks that Max and Chad have to bare the horrible weight of sentience and emotions... at least they all have each other :))

As I expected, after seeing more of her good side I like her a lot more XDD I knew she just needed some more screen time. I like her relationship with Gangle and how genuine she is about wanting her around. Zooble went from a D to a solid B :))

Thank you very much for this sweet message 💞💞 I thank and wish the same for you! :}}

Actually, I'll go further! I hope something makes you laugh so hard that any time you think about it over the next week you laugh about it all over again! :))

:DD Well thank you so much for complimenting me and it! :}}]

Oh absolutely! My Caine consults the suggestion box almost exclusively when planning his adventures :D

I don't think I would have the stupid sauce in my AU. Or at least it wouldn't actually have any effect on anyone. Since none of the cast are supposed to eat the food, there's no reason why the stupid sauce should have any taste or effect on anyone. <:/

I imagine Caine would make multiple copies of the same restaurant and split the circus into smaller teams. Maybe he could even have them compete with each other :00

Instead of being a rather empty feeling episode..? With hardly any customers, its a episode with a fast paced work environment and some rude customers sprinkled in there.

Caines intention was to help the cast with their teamwork, problem solving and facing/managing negative emotions.

In the end everyone felt like how you usually feel after a draining 8 hour shift at a crummy McDonalds. <XD But ultimately it was an exercise that had more benefits then consequences on their sanity.

I do not :( Sorry!

I DO have a fanfic blog here on tumblr, but I got so embarrassed by my armature writing that I private the few fics I made 💀

@misscherrypie

It looks delicious!.. Man, now I gotta go make a sandwich XDD

@artistiemi

Aww! Thank you! And that drawing is absolutely FANTASTIC! :DD So soft and adorable.. well done! :))

@holly-opal

NGL, I was rather underwhelmed. I was expecting this frantic episode where the cast tried to learn teamwork and maybe as they failed to server orders fast enough the horror would ramp up and what not..

But what I got was an episode that felt very very empty. And an arc for Gangle that I didn't understand..

I read the comments and everyone was gushing about how wonderful and meaningful this episode was. So I have no doubt that it was a good episode. It just wasn't what I expected and I didn't understand the actually message it was trying to convey with Gangle. Which isn't at all the episodes fault. :0

XDD Indeed he is! It was the only male Sylveon adjacent name I could think of 😔

@taco-hyeh (Creature is from this post)

:DD Thank you so much! And oh yeah! I remember that guy. :0 Some kind of monstrous swamp creature I thought up. His first doodle was a spooky one but I couldn't help myself and made him silly the next time around XDD

@caronaro-flipaclip (In response to this post)

Thank you so much!! :DD Also I hadn't realized it until now, but NGL Jax has been shown a lot of mercy in my AU 💀

Caine has properly disciplined him over the years and hasn't let him get away with any of the crap he's pulled. Over time this has had good effects on Jax's personality and behavior. Realizing that "hey things are better and people are nicer to me when I'm not such a jerk."

Also because Jax is more genuine and isn't a jerk all the time, he has formed a genuine friend group within the circus. With people who genuinely care about Jax and share his sense of humor. These people being Kaufmo, Maufko, Sneemo and Doug primarily.

Not only do these 4 genuinely enjoy hanging around with Jax, but they often side with him and come to his defense when they know he isn't in the wrong. Having people on his side and feeling he has real friendships with these people has done so much to improve his mental health and behavior.

So yeah. Ngl Jax has been shown a boatload of mercy 💀but in my defense its because he's a decently better person in my AU so he doesn't deserve all the hate. Also he's not exempt from any angst. He's still existential about being in the circus which still makes him act out sometimes. :// Hence him crabbing at Queenie for something stupid and getting rightfully pretzeled over it XDD

(Link in ask)

:DD I'm happy to hear that! :))

Oh don't worry, I still love the FNAF and Octonauts and will draw them in private if I ever want to. I just wont post Octonauts anymore and will be hesitant to post FNAF again <:)

Also thank you! I wish the same for you! :DD

Google translation of ask: "Can you translate the comics yourself? I know that fan-translations are stolen from you, I just want to enjoy the comics you make without them being stolen!"

My Google translated response: Lo siento, pero mi blog es sólo un blog de hobby. No tengo ningún deseo de traducir mis cómics a otros idiomas y no quiero que nadie lo haga por mí. Lo siento mucho.

My English response: I'm sorry, but my blog is just a hobby blog. I have no desire to translate my comics into other languages and I don't want anyone to do that for me. I'm very sorry. <:(

Canonically? I don't really care for their personalities much.. but design wise I've always kind'a liked Iggy. Not his slender stature though, I like the Koopas to be short and stout-- Its his lime green and purple shell with the crazy eyes and his association with chain chomps that has always appealed to me.

@beryl-shade

XD oh boy do I know about Pingu. His face is all over the internet! And one of my fav brain rot songs is CG5s song about him XDD

As for how my OCs would interact with him, I'm not sure <:0 there's just too many OCs to choose from!

@v0idish-t3ars

Yeah, all that stealing has been such a downer. I'm glad you like my artwork though <:) I plan to try to just keep on keeping on. 👍

Oh dear :(

To anyone who thinks this; if an artist states they do not want their art reposted? There is absolutely no loop hole or way around it. If you repost it, you are a thief. No matter what. period.

@wolfie-777

Ough... a warm, carbonated, sugary drink. That just sounds like a potion for a stomach ache 😭💀

@howeaboutsomeketchul

Hopefully that doesn't cause you any pain! <XDDD

@teemhaunts (In response to this post)

Great choices! :DD My favorite creature is probably Shararook. But this is only based on appearance. When it comes to playing I really enjoy fast creatures with great mobility. Shararook cant run, jump, swim, glide, fly or even climb! He's just a slow tank that lumbers around... he looks super cool but MAN he's a drag to play as.

So amongst my other favorites based on appearance, my absolute favorite to play as would be Momola. Its so fun to absolutely BLAST around the map collecting things and exploring XDDD All the while my wings don't fold so I can always see how pretty they are! :DD

(In response to this post)

Indeed I do! :DD I played it a whole bunch during my hiatus and still play it everyday. Speaking of which, the winter event started recently and I had a goal to try and buy one of everything in the event shop. After seeing the prices? W o o f. There's no way I can earn all that in time so settled with just buying out half the shop 😅

That was a very poor start to this ask 😅 I nearly blocked you on sight thinking you were yet another anon coming to disrespect my boundaries. Thank goodness I read through the whole thing-

And while I cant say I've had any luck drawing things in private, I can confidently say that I'll just be drawing whatever I want.

And I'm sorry to hear that you are also unwell :( I hope that the both of us find some relief soon.. and I hope that my art can continue to brighten your day in the meantime! <:)) Thank you!! :))

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Did you watch One Piece Fan Letter?! Oh my goodness it was so good!

What if Eri ended up also inspiring a few others as well? Mainly a few marines, civilians and even Tashigi about being brave since she’s a small and delicate child, yet she ran headfirst into the war to save her big brother Ace without any hesitation even though the odds were definitely against her (She might’ve even ended up with a Fan Club)

The Benevolent King of the Waves was my freaking favorite because of his reactions to Chopper’s cuteness (And who’s to say he wouldn’t have Eri’s wanted poster and a few pictures of her alongside Chopper because both are ridiculously cute?) and he was going to stop the weapon out of fear that Chopper and Eri were going to get hurt

I actually just watched this! I kept putting it off and decided to watch it while I was sitting here stuffing my face! lol

Eri definitely winds up with more fans after the Whitebeard War, to see a child willing to protect her big brother and her grandpa, even putting herself at risk to do so, is so inspiring to everyone. So many civilians see this child facing danger head on made them realize that they're braver than they seem and made them stand up to their own fears.

Many marines became fans of her bravery (ballsyness) while many others were disgusted to see how many tried to take her, now knowing what she was able to do with her ability. Tashigi admires Eri's bravery and knows that she seems to be safe with the Straw Hats, at least for the moment, while Garp is the Eri Fan Club leader in the marines, as grandpa is her number one fan and if anyone else tries to claim this it's hands on sight with Garp.

The Benevolent King of the Waves was such a funny character! I loved seeing how powerful he could be, but the moment he saw Chopper I couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard. He would also adore Eri, wanting to adopt her as his daughter and shower her with so much love! And Chopper could come too so he could just admire and love them both so much! However, if he sees or hears anyone threatening Chopper or Eri (especially Eri), I feel like he will be just as scary as an angry Garp.

I feel, during the time skip, knowing how many people, pirates, marines, World Government, etc. were looking for Eri, civilians and other allies of Eri, like Zeff, the inhabitants of Cocoyashi Villages, and civilians all over, without being asked to, in order to throw everyone who was looking for Eri off, told them false rumors that she had been seen, or that they had her, anything to keep them off Ace and Eri's tail.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

*slamming the table*

IF INSPIRATION STRIKES I NEED A PART 2 OF THE GHOST ONEEEEEE

In The Sight Of Ghosts: part 2 (18+)

TLR!Turtles (Michelangelo) x reader

Part 1 (Suggestive) (18+?)

A/N: *Slamming back on the table* Inspiration struck, so after a few days of writing, I have a part 2! Honestly, I think I can play around with this concept in many more stories to come. Stand alone one shots or something else, IDK. Only the future will tell. Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy🖤

Mikey is in his 40’s. The reader is in their early 20’s. Leo, Raph and Donnie are in their early to mid 20’s.

Warnings: Raph being gross I guess, age difference, mentioning of ghosts and dead brothers, ghost voyeurism, ghost instructions, ghost masturbation, spanking, doggy, mentioning of missionary, implied sex in the future. I think that was all, lol.

When Raph said he was going to find a way, he certainly meant it. It was now his personal goal to find a way to push Mikey over the limit in some way, so that he would - in Raph’s own words - finally dick out his frustrations. And he had no intentions of stopping, no matter how angry Mikey would get. No matter how hard Mikey tried to ignore him and his brothers. Raph just kept going. And it was always whenever you were around. Raph could never just leave you alone. Whenever you entered Mikey’s field of view, Raph was on you, doing some lewd acts that only Mikey and his brothers could see. If you passed Mikey in the hallway, Raph would make a show of making it look like he was about to pin you against the wall. If you stood somewhere in the room, Raph would walk up to you, and place his hands somewhere, making it look like he was groping you. Hands on your ass and chest, his ghost hands fondling you like an animal, smirking in the direction of Mikey and the others. And it made Mikey’s blood boil, trying his best not to watch as Raph acted like he was grinding your hips together in a lewd act. Mikey’s anger and frustration was so strong that even Leo and Donnie could see it.

“Maybe you should do it”, Donnie said, as Raph came with overplayed moans from the couch were you sat, holding your face and thrusting his hips like he was fucking your face, while you - totally unbothered - read the book in front of you. “You obviously find her interesting, and well… she is pretty”.

“Don’t you start as well”, Mikey groaned, just low enough so you wouldn’t hear it, leaning further down over the book that laid in front of him on the table.

“I’m only trying to help”, Donnie said, watching as Raph crouched down in front of you, trying to get a better look at your chest through your shirt. “And, well, if I was in your position, I might have done it by now”. That comment caused Mikey to give Donnie a look that could kill. Had Donnie actually been alive, this look might as well have been what killed him.

“Calm down, Mikey. Just ignore them”, Leo said, from his other side, with his shell facing the show Raph was trying to put on.

“You can’t ignore me forever”, Raph said, having taken a seat next to you on the couch, where he smoothed his hand over your hair, watching you like a predator would watch its prey. “Especially not the day when you start imagining my dick in her instead of yours”.

This comment seemed to trigger something within Mikey. If his blood was boiling, it was now bobbling over the lid. Mikey tried his best to restrain himself, but he just couldn’t, slamming the book in front of him shut, causing you to yelp in shock from the couch, looking at Mikey in shock. However Mikey avoided your eyes, quickly picking up the book from the table, before making his way to his room. You sat in confusion, watching as he left, unaware of the three ghosts that were hot on his heels, following him down the hallway.

He quickly hurried into his room before slamming the door behind him. With a growl he flung the book across the room, before slumping down on the bed, elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands.

“Seems like I touched a soft spot there”, Raph chuckled, earning him an eye roll from Leo.

“Just stop it, and leave her alone”, Mikey mumbled, still not looking up from the floor beneath him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Mikey flinched at the sound of your voice, looking up to find you in his doorway, slowly making your way into his room. The three ghosts stayed quiet, giving each other a look as if they knew something Mikey didn’t.

“No one”, Mikey said, rubbing his hands against the fabric of his overall. “Just… myself”.

“Ah”, you said, staying quiet for a moment. You looked at the door in thought, before you - to Mikey’s surprise - closed it. You turned and walked over to Mikey on the bed, before taking a seat next to him. This even made his brothers silent as they watched you with intent. Mikey felt his fingers getting clammy as he tried to avoid eye contact with you, suddenly finding the sight of the floor under his feet very interesting.

“Mikey… have I done something wrong?”, you suddenly asked, catching Mikey off guard. But the next part almost made his heart stop. “I’ve noticed you… looking at me. You seem… mad… So I was wondering if I did something”.

Mikey finally looked at you, staring directly into your beautiful eyes, feeling a pit opening in his stomach. It was never his intention… He never wanted you to think it was you he looked at… Oh god no…

“No”, Mikey said, shaking his head, ignoring Raph who started moving around out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong”.

“Then why are you looking at me… like you are?”, you asked, your voice so small it almost broke Mikey’s heart.

“It’s hard to explain… But I’m not mad at you, and I never have been, (Y/N)”.

You placed a hand on Mikey’s knee, almost making him choke on his own breath as he did so. It was then he noticed just how close you were to him. How you had been leaning closer, ever since you first took a seat next to him. The revelation made his heart beat hard and fast behind his plastron. That was when he noticed a smell. A wonderful smell taking over the room. What was that smell? Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

“Can you at least try to explain it?”, you asked, your voice low and soft, sounding smooth in Mikey’s ear.

“I’m not sure how”, Mikey said, suddenly finding himself very fixated on your lips. How soft they looked and just how close they were. Just a little further, and he might just be able to… god, he really wanted to…

“You don’t have to use words”, you whispered, sending shivers throughout Mikey’s body.

“Kiss her”, Raph's voice suddenly sounded from somewhere to the side. “Come on Mikey. Kiss her”.

Mikey found himself continuously staring down at your lips, contemplating whether or not he should do it. It was so tempting. So tempting…

“He’s right, Mikey”, Leo said. “Do it. Kiss her”.

And with that, Mikey slowly leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you, connecting your lips in a soft kiss. You kissed him back less than a second later, turning your sweet kiss passionate in an instant, with one of your hands coming up to rest on Mikey’s plastron. The wonderful smell in the room grew stronger as Mikey’s big hands came to a rest on your hips, before slowly making their way up.

“You smell that?”, Donnie asked, sniffing around the room.

“Uuuh, she likes it”, Raph laughed. “Give her some tongue, Mikey. I bet she will love it”.

And finally, Mikey allowed himself to do as Raph told him, poking at your lips with his larger tongue, asking for entrance, while one of his hands came to rest on your cheek. You reacted with a sound, much closer to a moan than anything else, opening your mouth and granting him access. Without breaking the kiss you then rose ever so slightly from the bed, before making your way onto Mikey’s lap, straddling him as he leaned further into your increasingly needy kiss, letting small sounds of pleasure escape you.

“Shit”, Mikey heard Donnie mumble as he took in the sight before them, before taking a seat on a chair in the opposite side of the room.

Mikey placed his hands on your bottom as you slowly grinded yourself against him, allowing him to control and increase the speed at which you did it, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier.

“I knew she would be hot”, Raph said, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, so he could get a better look at you.

You then suddenly broke from the kiss, making Mikey fear for a moment that you had been able to hear Raph. But when you then reached for your shirt before pulling it off and throwing it across the room, letting it fly straight through Leo’s form, leaving your top half in nothing but an old see through bra, leaving very little to Mikey’s imagination. You gave Mikey a bright smile, before diving back down into your needy kiss, moaning against his mouth as one of his hands came to massage your breasts. Your hands started fumbling with the straps of Mikey’s overalls in order to undo them. Mikey’s hands moved from your chest to your pants, where he started pulling them down one leg after the other, before throwing them onto the chair Donnie was sitting on. You sat back down on Mikey’s lap, grinding against him once more, with your smell of arousal stronger than ever before. Mikey could feel himself as he was about to drop inside of his overalls, his thick member already aching to be inside of you.

“Time to see if that ass jiggles”, Raph said, his own hand groping at the forming bulge in his pants. And so Mikey did, letting his large hand come down on your left ass cheek with a loud smack, causing you to yelp out loud in pleasure.

“Mikey!”, you cried, letting your head fall to rest against his shoulder. “Please, Mikey, please”.

“Fuck”, Leo groaned, finding himself completely absorbed by what he was watching. “What’s she begging for?”

“Please what, (Y/N)?”, Mikey asked, smoothing his hand over where he had just slapped you.

“Please just fuck me, Mikey!”, you begged.

“Holy shit”, Donnie exclaimed from his chair, where he too had started to feel himself through his pants, all while Leo stood in total silence, his eyes fixated on you and your movements.

“Tell her to get naked”, Raph said, getting ready to pull himself out of his pants. “Ass up”.

Mikey did just as Raph had told him, and gave your ass another smack, before telling you to get naked and get on the bed. You stood up with no hesitation, taking your bra and underwear off in eagerness, before getting on your knees and elbows on Mikey’s bed, unaware that you were facing directly towards Raph.

Mikey made quick work of his overalls, taking in the way your eyes widened when you saw his member spring free from its confinements. And if it was even possible, the scent of your arousal grew stronger once more. Mikey got behind you on the bed, taking in the sight of your juice cunt before him, already feeling dizzy at the thought of you around him. The sight of you, mixed with your scent and under wonderful sounds, Mikey felt his own urge and need growing within him, getting more and more desperate to feel you clench around him.

Mikey placed a hand on your left cheek, before grabbing a hold of his member with the other, guiding it through your folds, picking up your slickness as he went, before giving your ass a sudden slap, causing you to let out another needy moan, begging him once again, your hands gripping onto the sheets of his bed beneath you.

“Please, Mikey! Please!”

With a groan at the sound of your begging, Mikey began pushing himself into your tight hole, moaning when he felt your walls tightening around him. You let out a flurry of lewd sounds as you took in Mikey’s massive size, sinking further and further into you. Mikey’s eyes were glued to the sight of his member slowly disappearing into you, using his hold on your hips to sink you further along his length. However, should Mikey have taken his eyes off of you and looked to Raphael, he would have found the ghost with his member in his hand, slowly working his hand along it as he focused in on your pleasured expression. At the other side of the room, Donnie too was about to wrap his own hand around his member, eyes intently locked on you. Leo was the only one that still hadn’t opened or pulled off his pants, yet his dilated and hungry eyes never left you.

Mikey stayed still inside of you, letting you get used to his impressive size. But when you started wiggling and swaying your hips in front of Mikey, showing him just how needy and inpatient you were getting.

“Ask her what she wants”, Leo suddenly said, his voice low as he spoke, obviously affected by what he was watching.

Mikey started rubbing your behind, keadling you flesh in his large hands. “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?”, he asked, taking joy in how you started shaking in his hands. “Use your words”.

“Please, just move, Mikey”, you whimpered, trying to back yourself up against him. “Move. Fuck me. Use me”.

“Holy shit. She’s a freak”, Raph said in a smug tone, his hand speeding up ever so slightly. “She deserves a good fucking”.

Mikey’s hand came down on your cheek once more, drawing a loud moan from you once more, clenching further around him. “Of course, when you ask me so nicely”, Mikey said, slowly pulling himself halfway out of you. “I’m going to fuck you untill you can’t walk or talk anymore”. And before you could react to Mikey’s words, he rammed directly back into you. You let out a moan like scream, your face falling to your mattress with your eyes closed and Mikey continued thrusting into you, bringing you large sparks of pleasure with each thrust into you.

Donnie cursed under his breath, his hand moving faster against himself. Raph stared at you with parted lips and hungry eyes, dreaming of what it would feel like to be the one fucking you from behind. Leo still stood with crossed arms and an intense look on his eyes, when suddenly…

“She wants to be used, Mikey”, Leo said. “Spank her again. Show her she’s being used”.

And Mikey did, drawing an almost animalistic sound of pleasure from you when his hand made contact with your skin once more.

“And it continues to jiggle”, Raph chuckled, watching your flesh bounce with every slap, and every time Mikey thrusted against it.

You rested your forehead against your right forearm, reaching down between your legs with your left hand, where you let your fingertips glide over your clit, rubbing it as Mikey increased his speed on you, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, bouncing against the stone walls.

“Mikey, I’m close”, you whimpered, your legs getting shaky underneath you.

“Let it happen, (Y/N)”, Mikey groaned, keeping his brutal speed as he fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Grab her hair”, Donnie’s voice sounded, his voice somewhat wavering from his hand’s work on his member. “Let us see her face”.

And so Mikey did as asked, and grabbed a firm grip at the base at the roots of your hair, before pulling your head up and back from the mattress. This resulted in a clearing of your vocal ways, causing you to get much louder. Your back naturally arched downwards, causing you to back up against Mikey, making each of his thrusts into you much harder than the last. Your hands frantically grabbed for the sheets beneath you, trying to hold onto something as your high came rolling, threatening to crash into you at any moment, your moans coming out as begging like screams.

The ghosts watched you with intensity, trying to match the movements of their hands to the speed at which you where getting fucked, imagining themselves in Mikey’s place, taking you from behind. Leo shifted his legs where he stood, as if trying to act like he wasn’t getting affected by the sight before him. Like he wasn’t imagining how you would feel around him, screaming that you were about to cum.

“I’m cumming!”, you yelled out, your hips squirming against the snaps of Mikey’s hips, as he continuously hit your sweet spot with no signs of slowing down. “I’m cumming, Mikey!”

“Cum for me, (Y/N)”, Mikey groaned. “Cum on my cock. Show me how good I’m fucking you”.

And so you did, your orgasm coming crashing down upon you, your walls clenching around Mikey as he continued to pound into you. Raph and Donnie let out audible groans at the sight and sound of you, taking in all of your beauty and raw pleasure. If only they could be the ones making you feel such pleasure, and have you squirming and moaning at the end of their cocks.

Letting go of your hair, Mikey let you fall back down to the mattress, moaning as you felt the waves of your high still washing over you. Slowing down his thrusts, Mikey kept himself up above you, slowly pushing in and out of you, savoring the feeling of you around him. Even from his few of your back and the side profile of your face, you were beautiful, shining in the light of your slowly subsiding orgasm.

Slowly Mikey pulled out of you, his member still fully erect, begging to be buried within you again. No matter how much Mikey wanted to keep going, and fuck you further into oblivion, releasing himself into you, Mikey decided against it. You were probably tired and in need of a break. He could wait. Your comfort was more important than his pleasure. He couldn’t force you-.

“Mikey”, you whimpered from below him, looking over your shoulder with pink cheeks and disheveled hair, out of breath with a sultry smile on your lips as you lifted your ass up against him, as if to present yourself for him once more. “Please don’t stop now, Mikey”.

Mikey was shocked. Extremely turned on but shocked. And judging from the choked sounds of Raph and Donnie, so were they, not expecting you to still have energy for more. Leo seemed to be the only one that wasn’t shocked.

“You heard her”, Leo said, arms still crossed with a stern look on his face. “Get her on her back and give her what she wants”.

Leo didn’t have to say that twice. Mikey was quick to grab a hold of one of one leg and one arm, flipping you onto your back in one throw. You yelped, followed by laughter, laying fucked, naked and smiling before Mikey, your legs open and inviting for him. And it was at this moment, staring down at your beautiful body, just before diving straight back into you again, that Mikey wondered why he waited so long. Why he had let Raph get his blood boiling for so long, instead of just taking you straight in the kitchen all those days ago. But now, he wasn’t going to let another opportunity go. So there, right in front of the ghostly forms of his brothers, Mikey fucked you right into the matteress, determinded to make up for the many days he had waited, before feeling your warm cunt around him and your desperate moans in his ear.

And so, you and Mikey continued your lewd dance of arms and legs tangled together, all in front of the watchful eyes of Mikey’s dead brothers, long into the night and again the next morning, and many more occasions to come.

[dee-writes-anime]

Hopes, Dreams, and Trials with Choso Kamo

FEATURING Choso Kamo x Reader

SUMMARY Trying to start a family in general is hard, but trying to start a family with a cursed womb painting is even harder.

CONTENT WARNINGS WARNING, WARNING!!! this fic is really heavy and deals with themes regarding infertility, please please please read at your own risk and prioritize your mental health <3

AUTHORS NOTE four fics in two days?! I must be an imposter... just kidding! The truth of the matter is that these drafts have been ROTTING in my files and I finally decided to busted them out and finish them up 😼

SERIES MASTERLIST

The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating the quiet anguish etched into Choso’s features. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the small stick lying on the nightstand. The room’s oppressive silence was broken only by the faint hum of the heater, struggling against the winter’s chill. Choso’s hands trembled slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not yet. Not while the negative result stood as a glaring reminder of another failed attempt.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, arms wrapped around your knees, the tension in the room pressing down on your chest like a weight. This wasn’t the first time—not even close—and both of you knew it likely wouldn’t be the last. Yet, the knowledge didn’t dull the sting of disappointment. It never did.

“Maybe we should…” you began, your voice a fragile tremor in the stillness.

“Don’t,” Choso interrupted, his tone softer than you expected. His shoulders sagged under the invisible weight he carried, his posture speaking of defeat. Finally, he turned his gaze to you, his expression a raw mix of guilt and despair. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” you countered, your voice steadier now despite the tears pooling in your eyes. “We’re in this together. It’s not about fault.”

Even as you said it, you knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Choso had always carried the burdens of others—a habit formed from years of protecting his brothers, even in death. Now, with this, he felt as though he was failing at something he desperately wanted to give you: a family.

Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your knee. The gesture was tentative, almost apologetic, as though he doubted he deserved to touch you. You covered his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing tightly.

“I just…” Choso’s voice broke, and he exhaled sharply, his free hand scrubbing over his face. “I don’t understand. We’ve tried everything. The doctors said it could take time, but… how much more time? How much more hope do we have to lose before…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by the quiet despair hanging in the air.

“As much time as it takes,” you said, though the words felt like a fragile thread of hope in the face of mounting doubts. “Choso, we have to believe it’ll happen. It’s the only thing keeping me…” You faltered, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Keeping me going.”

Choso’s heart broke at the sight of your tears. He shifted closer, pulling you into his arms. The familiar scent of him—a blend of sandalwood and the faint metallic tang of his cursed energy—washed over you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. Any of this.”

“Neither do you,” you murmured against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm amidst the turmoil.

That night, tangled together under the weight of heavy blankets, you whispered promises into the quiet. He swore his love for you would never waver, no matter what happened. You promised not to let this struggle drive a wedge between you, even when the burden felt unbearable. It was a fragile truce with fate, but it was enough to see you through another night.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The routine became all too familiar: tracking ovulation, scheduling doctor’s appointments, enduring endless tests and invasive procedures. Each visit to the fertility clinic felt like navigating a labyrinth of sterile rooms and clinical jargon, leaving a gnawing sense of inadequacy that neither of you voiced aloud.

Choso loathed the way the nurses looked at him—with pity masked by professionalism. He hated the hushed tones and the apologetic smiles that seemed to suggest he wasn’t enough. And worst of all, he hated the way a small, insidious part of his mind whispered that you’d be better off with someone else—someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

You despised the way the world moved on around you, oblivious to your struggles. Friends’ pregnancy announcements, baby showers, the cheerful chatter of parents in parks—each was a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have. Yet, despite the cracks forming in your resolve, you clung to each other. Even when the silence between you grew heavy with unspoken fears, you stayed tethered to the love that had carried you this far.

One evening, after yet another exhausting day at the clinic, you sat on the couch in the dark. The only light came from the muted television, casting flickering shadows across the room. You leaned against Choso, your head on his shoulder, while his fingers absently traced patterns on the back of your hand. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours, content to simply exist in the shared quiet.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Choso stiffened, his hand stilling in its movements. “What?”

“All of this,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “The appointments, the treatments, the constant disappointment. Do you think we’re just setting ourselves up for more heartbreak?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Are you saying you want to stop?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” you admitted, tears spilling over once more. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Choso’s arms encircled you, pulling you close as though he could shield you from the pain. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop,” he said firmly. “But if there’s even a part of you that wants to keep going, then we’ll keep going. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. In that moment, you realized that no matter how difficult the journey, you weren’t alone. Choso was your anchor, your partner, your everything. Together, you would face whatever storms lay ahead, one day at a time.

The following weeks brought a mix of cautious hope and deep uncertainty. Your doctor proposed trying a new treatment, one that was more invasive but held a higher chance of success. The decision to move forward felt daunting, like stepping into uncharted waters, but neither of you could bear the thought of giving up on a dream you had nurtured for so long.

Choso stood by you through every step—every injection, every scan, every procedure. He held your hand tightly in the waiting room, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. On days when the side effects left you exhausted and irritable, he met you with patience and quiet reassurances. Warm tea. A favorite blanket. Silent companionship when words felt too heavy to bear.

There were moments of light amidst the darkness. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling appointment, Choso surprised you with a small potted plant. “It’s a symbol of hope,” he explained, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “Something we can take care of together.”

You laughed through your tears, touched by the gesture. The plant found a place on the windowsill, a small but enduring reminder that even in the bleakest times, life could still flourish.

As the months wore on, the emotional toll on both of you became undeniable. There were arguments—raw moments where the grief and frustration boiled over, leaving scars of guilt and misunderstanding. But each time, you found your way back to each other, reminded of the love that had brought you together in the first place.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber, Choso took your hand in his. His voice was quiet but steady as he said, “I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I know that whatever happens, as long as I have you, it’ll be enough.”

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned into him, your heart swelling with a bittersweet mixture of love and sorrow. “You’re enough for me too,” you whispered. In that moment, a fragile sense of peace settled between you, the knowledge that no matter where the journey led, you would face it together.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[dee-writes-angst]

THE DAWN COURT (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Lucien Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY On the way through dawn, Lucien begins to open up to you and your stubborn heart can't resist falling deeper and deeper into the warmth of his beautiful smile.

CONTENT WARNINGS childhood abuse, abusive relationships, beron, Lucien is a momma's boy, brothers being pitted against each other, BERON VANSERRA, more mentions of Elain

AUTHORS NOTE I'm not sure how the Courts series became my constant proof of live update, but here we are again, and I can't say I feel bad about it.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The road to the Dawn Court stretched out before you in an endless array of soft pastel hues and rolling hills, the sky above tinged with faint lavender and gold as true dawn approached. Unlike the lush forests of the Spring Court or the frozen majesty of Winter, this land bore a gentler beauty—one that whispered of new beginnings and the quiet hush between night and morning. The air here felt lighter, as though each breath you took was suffused with the promise of a sunrise not yet fully formed. It was a place of transition, where the darkness of the night yielded gracefully to the first touch of day.

You and Lucien had ridden hard for hours, leaving the stark cold of the Winter Court behind in pursuit of the next alliance to be reestablished. Both of your horses moved with weary steps, their sides heaving gently, their coats dusted with sweat and flecks of road-grime. As you crested a gentle slope, an oasis of sorts revealed itself below—a small watering hole nestled in a shallow dip of land, surrounded by wiry shrubs and clusters of pale wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Tall, slender trees with silver-gray bark stood sentinel around the pool, their leaves rustling with the same airy hush that seemed to settle over the rest of the Dawn Court.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, its rays slicing through the mauve-tinted sky in shimmering beams. A light, warm wind caressed your cheeks as you guided your mount down toward the water’s edge, relief stirring in your chest at the thought of a short rest. Lucien followed close behind, his features illuminated by the first true glow of dawn. The lines of tension you’d grown used to seeing in his face had eased somewhat during your travels, but every now and again, you caught a glimpse of the pain he tried so hard to hide.

You dismounted, carefully leading your horse to the water. Lucien did the same, quietly checking his horse’s bridle and running a soothing hand along its flank. His gaze drifted out over the pool, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke, letting the hushed magnificence of this new land envelop you. The sky above faded from lavender to rose, a gentle wave of color heralding the day’s arrival.

When Lucien finally broke the silence, his voice came out softer than usual, as if the serenity of the Dawn Court compelled him to speak more gently. “You asked me before about Beron,” he began, his tone laced with a cautious vulnerability. “About what it was really like… growing up under him.”

You looked over at him, meeting his amber gaze. There was something raw in his eyes, a memory or a series of memories too heavy to keep locked away. You approached quietly, your footsteps muted in the soft ground, and took a seat on a low rock near the water’s edge. Lucien followed suit, sinking down beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him in the mild dawn chill.

“My father,” he continued, drawing a shaky breath, “wasn’t just cruel as a High Lord—he was cruel as a parent, too. Some days, it was the smallest thing that would set him off: a gesture, a slip of the tongue. Other days, it was nothing at all. He… he thrived on instilling fear, on making all of us believe we were never quite good enough.”

His words hung in the air like an echo, and you felt your heart clench at the thought of a young Lucien forced to navigate that sort of chaos. You wanted to reach out, to rest a comforting hand over his, but you kept still, sensing he needed to release these memories in his own way.

“My mother,” Lucien went on, the faintest tremor in his voice, “was the opposite. She tried her best to protect me from Beron’s temper, to shield me and my brothers from his worst impulses. It wasn’t easy, and… well, you can guess how things ended up. But she loved me fiercely, abundantly. I think it’s what saved me, that knowledge that at least one parent cared. Genuinely.” A wistful smile ghosted over his lips, gone as quickly as it came. “She was quiet about her affection when he was around, but behind closed doors, she was everything a mother should be—kind, supportive, protective.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “She sounds incredible. I wish I could have known her.”

Lucien’s gaze flickered with gratitude. “She is. And it was she who first asked Eris to keep an eye on me. That might sound strange, I know—Eris, of all people. But he wasn’t always… well, he wasn’t always what he is now. At least, not with me.” He paused, brow furrowing slightly. “He could be cold, quick to anger, but there were times when he’d intervene if things got too bad with Beron. It’s why I can’t hate him entirely, not the way some of our other brothers do. He protected me when it truly mattered.”

A gentle hush settled between you, the soft ripple of the watering hole and the rustle of leaves in the breeze the only sounds cutting through the dawn. Your heart was pounding, heavy with empathy and unspoken understanding. Lucien had revealed so much of himself—his pain, his past, the people who shaped him.

“And the rest of your brothers?” you asked softly, aware of how fragile this moment felt. “I know there are… many.”

A humorless laugh escaped him, bitter edges clinging to the sound. “They mostly hated me. Saw me as weak because Mother favored me, or perhaps because I was the youngest. Or maybe it was just Beron’s poison that seeped into everything. He pitted us against each other. Turned us into rivals. And after I left the court for good…” He trailed off, a sorrowful light in his eyes. “I suppose they wrote me off. Or, more likely, they never think of me at all.”

Silence settled again, deeper this time, weighted by all the memories and regrets Lucien had just laid bare. Without overthinking, you reached out and rested your hand on his arm, your thumb brushing gently against the fabric of his jacket. It was a small act of comfort, but you hoped it would say what words could not—that you heard him, that you saw him, and that you cared.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one deserves that kind of upbringing.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to where your hand touched his arm, and a flicker of warmth softened his expression. “It’s all right,” he said, though the catch in his throat betrayed him. “I’ve lived with it for a long time. Talking about it helps, I think.”

He set his free hand over yours, gently squeezing. A delicate beam of sunlight caught in his hair, highlighting the copper tones, and for a heartbeat, the two of you were perfectly still—two people who had traveled so many miles, endured so many struggles, and found a measure of solace in one another’s presence.

When at last Lucien drew away, a faint smile touched his lips. “Thank you. For listening.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice barely above a breath.

The horses stirred behind you, drawn to the water, and the moment shifted. But even as you both rose to tend to the animals, the Dawn Court’s sky now blazing in pink and gold overhead, you knew that something had changed between you. You’d peeled back another layer of Lucien’s guarded heart, and in doing so, had opened yourself up to the kind of bond that could either mend you both—or break you altogether. For now, you chose to let hope settle in your chest, buoyed by the promise of dawn and the faint trace of Lucien’s touch lingering on your skin.

The Dawn Court’s gentle magic seemed to cradle you both as you traveled deeper into its lands, where the sky forever hovered between the last shades of night and the earliest colors of morning. Soft lavender clouds floated overhead, their undersides brushed with gold. In the distance, pale hills rolled into the horizon, blanketed in fields of wildflowers that looked as though they had stolen the very colors of sunrise for themselves. Everything here whispered of beginnings—fresh starts, second chances—and perhaps that was why Lucien found it easier to open up in this place, where dawn’s light might cast away shadows of the past.

You had been riding for most of the morning, the conversation between you and Lucien ebbing and flowing with comfortable ease. Sometimes you talked about mundane things—the best tack for your horses, the surprising flavor of Dawn Court tea, small jokes and observations about the people you passed on the road. Other times, you fell into quieter moments, letting the hush of the open road surround you. But there was a notable shift in Lucien’s demeanor. He seemed lighter, as if the bitter memories he had shared with you at the watering hole had momentarily loosened their grip on him.

Eventually, you came upon a small village nestled at the base of a pale, sloping hill. The houses were low and built of sun-bleached stone; the roofs sparkled under the gentle daylight as though dusted with starlight. A winding stream ran through the center of the settlement, a ribbon of glittering water that reflected the pastel sky overhead. Lucien proposed you stop there for a short rest, and you readily agreed. You could use a break from the saddle, and you couldn’t deny you wanted more time in this peaceful realm—more time with him.

A local baker, cheeks ruddy from the warm ovens, directed you to a quiet courtyard where you could hitch your horses. The courtyard was bordered by slim, arching trees whose leaves were tinted with silver on the underside, rustling in the perpetual dawn breeze. Lucien handed you a small pastry—flaky, filled with a sweet fruit compote—and you laughed when he coaxed you to try it, proclaiming it a specialty of the region.

“Better than Summer Court fruit?” he teased, a playful sparkle lighting his eyes.

You took a bite, rolling your eyes in mock challenge. “You’re just trying to one-up Tarquin, aren’t you?”

His grin spread slowly, more genuine than you’d seen before. “I’d never admit to such a thing,” he said, his tone light, though the humor in it was real. The tension lines that so often pinched the corners of his eyes and mouth were markedly softer now. He looked… happy.

You leaned against the trunk of one of those silver-leafed trees, watching as he broke off a piece of the pastry for himself. That fragile warmth in your chest—something that had been growing steadily since your journey began—glowed brighter. You couldn’t help but notice the way your pulse skipped whenever he smiled at you. Or the twist of quiet anger that bubbled up when you remembered what he had told you of Elain—how she wouldn’t return his feelings, how she had turned him away time and again. It grated at you, how someone could ignore a man who had endured so much, how they could cast aside the vulnerability he offered so rarely.

It felt selfish to think like that—Elain’s story was hers, and maybe she had reasons you didn’t know. But still, you couldn’t stop the frustration from gnawing at you, at her seeming rejection of someone who was worth so much more than he gave himself credit for.

“Thinking about something?” Lucien asked, drawing you back to the present. He dusted his hands free of pastry crumbs, then stepped closer, tilting his head as he studied your face.

You realized you’d been staring at him—at the faint freckles on his nose, at the slight curve of his lips. Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Just… random thoughts,” you managed, though your voice sounded strangely breathless even to your own ears.

He nodded once, gaze flicking away as if politely choosing not to press. You respected that about him—his ability to give you space while still being open. He turned slightly, letting his attention wander over the sleepy village. Children played in the distance, their laughter weaving through the streets. A few villagers tended to gardens, brimming with soft, dawn-colored flowers that drank in the perpetual half-light. Everything felt caught in that threshold between night and day—like Lucien, in so many ways, suspended between past pain and future hope.

“It’s strange,” he said at length, slipping back into that gentle, confessional tone you had grown to treasure. “Feeling this… peace. Traveling with you, seeing these courts—helping them—it’s unlike anything I’ve done before. Maybe it’s because I never really had the chance to just… be.” He paused, as though searching for the right word. “With Elain, things are always tense, always so painfully uncertain. I don’t blame her for that, truly. She never asked for our bond, and I can’t force her to accept it. But every moment with her feels like… I’m waiting on a precipice, wondering if she’ll finally see me.”

His expression dimmed slightly, the ghost of heartbreak flickering across his features. As much as you wanted to rail at Elain for hurting him—even unintentionally—you couldn’t ignore the sincere love he still harbored for her. It both warmed and pained you in equal measure.

“Do you still hope she will?” you asked softly. Your heart squeezed painfully at your own question, but part of you needed to know.

Lucien sighed, looking down at his boots as though the dusty cobblestones held an answer. “I… don’t know. Part of me will always hope. It’s my nature, I guess—to hold onto that little spark. But lately…” His eyes lifted to yours, that flicker of warmth returning. “Lately, I’ve been wondering if there could be something else for me. Something that doesn’t revolve around a bond that might never be accepted.”

Something else. Something… or someone.

His gaze caught yours, a quiet intensity there that made your pulse pound. Did he mean you? Or was he simply speaking in generalities, about finding a purpose beyond waiting for Elain?

Your throat felt tight, but you managed a small smile. “Whatever you choose, Lucien, you deserve someone who sees you as you are. Not as a burden, or an inconvenience, or an unwanted tie, but as a man worthy of love and happiness.”

He froze for a moment, the air between you suddenly alive with unspoken sentiment. Then, that slow, genuine smile returned. “I’m starting to believe that might be possible,” he said softly, amber eyes glowing with something close to gratitude. Or perhaps hope.

You swallowed hard, your own emotions tangling up in your chest. You wanted to shake Elain for not seeing him—this Lucien who was open, kind, protective, and so very ready to give his heart. But you also recognized how deeply your own feelings were rooting themselves inside you, pulling you closer to him in ways that were both exhilarating and terrifying. You had never expected your mission—your dream of traveling Prythian—to lead to this.

“Well,” you said, voice trembling slightly, “if there’s anything I can do to help… you only have to ask.”

Lucien’s smile deepened, and you caught the faintest hint of color warming his cheeks. “I appreciate that, more than you know.”

You stayed there for a while longer, the conversation drifting in and out of serious topics. He told you more about his childhood—fond recollections of his mother reading to him by the fire, the way Eris would covertly slip him books or sweets when Beron wasn’t watching. Amid these small rays of kindness were darker tales, too—brothers who mocked him, a father who used fear as a weapon. Each new story made you both ache for him and marvel at how he had risen above it all.

Yet there was no denying the lightness that settled over him now, in the Dawn Court’s hush. His laughter came more easily, free of the ghosts that so often haunted his eyes. He teased you about your knack for stumbling into interesting situations, and you teased him right back about his tendency to hide behind wit and sarcasm. For once, he didn’t bristle at the observation, only shrugged with a lopsided grin.

When the sun climbed a little higher—though never truly reaching full day in this eternal sunrise realm—you both decided it was time to press on. With the horses rested and watered, you saddled up again, exchanging a quick, companionable glance. Something about this land, about your shared experiences, had forged a deeper bond between you. It was as if you were both stepping onto a new path, leaving old hurts and uncertainties behind in the gentle glow of dawn.

As you rode out of the village and resumed your journey, your mind wandered back to that moment—when he mentioned something else, something beyond Elain. The hope in his eyes, the quiet thanks he offered when you told him he deserved happiness. It replayed in your thoughts, making your pulse flutter each time.

And with every stolen glance and every smile he gifted you, you felt the terrifying thrill of falling deeper into something you couldn’t name. All you knew was that here, in the Dawn Court, amidst pastel skies and rolling hills forever suspended between night and day, you and Lucien seemed to be forging something new together—something that made the day brighter and the long road ahead far less lonely.

TAGLIATELLE

@littlest-w01f @rcarbo1 @mirandasidefics @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @megscabinetofcurios @thecraziestcrayon @surielstea

[merkerlerspeaks]

You know. Sometimes you can just tell when God has put people in your life on purpose to show or teach you something.

My robotics teacher is a very, very compassionate, gentle Christian man, and very much persuing Jesus. And he is very understanding when my chronic condition effects my ability to attend class- perhaps likely due to his wife also having a condition like mine, perhaps due to the fact that he is just a very kindhearted person. (Luckily, I am able to do the majority of the class online, so it hasn't effected my grades).

There is also a young Christian man/late teen in my class as well who is also just such a big sweetheart. Very meek, very gentle, very smart. Also very much persuing Jesus.

I just very much admire it. My exposure to Christian men for the past 6 years has been predominantly my brother, which...well if you read my personal posts then we know how that has been going lol. I really appriciate being able to see...the variety, I guess. The ability to be able to speak to these people and not feel as if I am being spoken down too, and instead actually listened too. And the fact that they are christian men feels very healing.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[gingermintpepper]

Extracts from The Greenhouse Floor

[seleneprince]

Sanzu waited for Senju to leave the house before slashing Takeomi's eye and run away. For two reasons:

1. He didn't want Senju to see that, not only because she would've intervened, but because he wanted to spare her the bloody spectacle.

2. So Senju didn't try to stop him from leaving. Because despite what complex feelings he harbours for her, he couldn't bear having to say goodbye to her or the pain that moment might've caused. So he avoided it.

[19catsncounting]

Hey does anyone still think about the thematic differences between Supernatural and the Wayward Sisters and how self-isolating male hunters are compared to community-building female hunters and how this was shown from the Harvelles to even arguably Missouri Mosely and even Samuel Campbell who is his daughter's father almost more than a man himself (especially in Season 6) is not immune to this?

And how the Wayward Sisters could have been built not on sacrificing yourself to this singular all-consuming relationship with your brother and sacrificing yourself for the world second or in name only, but instead on what it takes to cut yourself into useful and digestible pieces for the sake of keeping your place in that community because you're almost certain that it's This Community or Solitude Forever (Alex you can never escape the life no matter how much you don't want it you've gotta pitch in do you want your family to die on this hunt Claire you know you'll never find anyone to love you unless you make yourself softer and then are they really loving you are you even worthy of love anymore Jody your husband and son would still be alive if you listened and learned you can't lose another child in every sense you can't quite let your children be defenseless children either and you know so well how sick this fear makes you and how you're dealing with it the wrong way your son got to be a child but your daughters can't be that vulnerable Even Donna you have Your Role to play here you're not good enough as a hunter but you're funny and happy and you don't take up that much space so that's exactly how much space you're given to exist in).

And yes, a lot of these things are echoes of Kripke Supernatural but instead of too-intimate and dark and quiet confessions that the Winchesters share and know that no one else could ever have the context to fully understand it's Community it's All Our Problems the humiliation and shame is all-encompassing because there is no privacy Everyone Sees You Everyone Knows You Everyone Wants To Fix Help You.