#admittedly i am drunk posting

[cosmic-day]

Well that was shit even by RTD finale standards.

I would elaborate, but I'm not sure that episode deserves it.

[da3drat]

hope you're doing okay!

Thank you anon<3

I am doing okay! Lots has been going on and I’ve just spent all my free time getting fucked over repeatedly and trying to fix it so it doesn’t ruin everything I’ve been working for. cannot overstate that at every turn things have been blowing up in my face with no warning and potentially big consequences. Like once a week minimum for the last month and a half. And ofc I have no days off with my current schedule.

And then today I went into work at 6am (I usually start at 8:30 but we had an all dept meeting) after having slept 9 hours all weekend only to find out all our closers called out so I would be working an insane 9 hour shift and by the time I finally got out of there I was soooo far past my limit! But hey. One foot in front of the other. I am sober now and tucking into bed with a big water bottle so I’m set for class tomorrow morning✌️

[agoddamnednerd]

Also

Fun Fact! Alcohol makes human interaction much easier!

[festivalofthe12]

I'm gonna be honest with y'all. I have put a lot of thought into it, and I quite simply cannot see Yuki Sohma at the club cheerily throwing down jelly shots off some one-night-stand's muscular chest.

(Like... once, maybe? If Kakeru drags him and it's such a sensory overload he gets way too drunk and wakes up regretting every one of his life choices and a deep paranoia that the stranger he vaguely remembers making out with stole money from his wallet and/or kindly drove him home and now Yuki can't even contact him to offer thanks.)

I get that a lot of people want him to have like these 'universal gay experiences', but I'll be real: some of us are just fucking boring. And there are sooooooo many other ways to let an early 20s Yuki explore that queer side of himself!!

Like, let him get a proper interest in fashion (since god knows he already dresses well enough for it) and really lean into his glorious androgynous somewhat-femme model energy up against Kakeru's gremlin manchild. Get him into independent theatre and dance. Give him a friendgroup of disconnected bohemians who chat about poetry and entry-level philosophy, smoke weed, and share tips on dealing with their no-contact abusive families while Yuki sits expressionlessly in a corner, gripping on just a little too tightly to his appletini before driving home in silence.

[moyokeansimblr]

Caio Sunkissed Collection

I COME BEARING GIFTS! (and Moyo is drunk atm shhhh)

This is Caio's Sunkissed Collection, which I really hope nobody already converted, I couldn't find it if so. There's a whopping THIRTEEN items for you guys! Because it's summer and it's stupidly hot where I live and I saw the Barbie movie so I'm good at beach 😉

Because there's 13, it's all AF only for now. Everything has morphs except the yoke doesn't have preg morph because tbh I lost patience with it. Everything's compressorized and includes swatch. Everything is in one rar but in separate folders so feel free to delete anything you don't like.

❗ I should point out the straps on the swimsuits are wonky, they ended up like that during texture baking and I'm admittedly not comfortable enough with gimp to have edited the textures. So you get some off-the-shoulder moments I guess.

As with always I can't claim perfection, and with a set this size please do not hesitate to point out any issues you find to me!! I'll never be upset and am happy to fix issues! (Did I mention I've had alcohol idk why I feel like that's obvious...) (I forgot how I do my posts.......)

🌴🏖️ Caio Sunkissed Collection download on Patreon (FREE)

But please consider becoming a patron if you want to show me support or make requests! ❤️🙏 Any support is extremely appreciated and really helps me out!

Shoe credits: @platinumaspiration, @deedee-sims, @sanneke94

(Also because moyo's drunk pls tell her if she forgot anythingggggg)

[ghouldtime]

Hello again! Since you said that you HC König to be Styrian, do you think he'd be the kind of person to sometimes speak his dialect with reader to tease them a little? The dialect is kinda hard to understand for people, who only speak High German (the German you find in texts and the one you're taught at school and stuff). Because I speak with a dialect as well and I'd love nothing more than to banter with König in our Austrian dialect together! Of course, there's a thousand dialects in Austria! So, someone from Styria has a hard time understanding someone from Vorarlberg, but still! (Also, because I HC him from the southern part of Styria, I like to imagine he "barks" a little when he speaks! It's gotten better as he grew up, but when he gets drunk he still barks, which makes it harder to understand him! It's really hard to understand some people from southern Styria >.< Are we allowed to share our own HCs with you? I just thought it'd make sense since I am Austrian! Not trying to sound entitled or anything, of course! But I just love giving him HCs of things I'm familiar with :>)

Anyway, sorry for the long ask! Have a nice day! ^^

💚💚💚💚💚 HELLLLOO it's great to see you back again :D I hope you're doing well! Also prefacing this with I'm an American so I'm admittedly not the most well versed in everything Austrian! I do put in my research and know some but I haven't even been there so if I'm ever wrong, absolutely feel free to correct me (I try my best not to be totally ignorant)

To answer your question simply in one word: ABSOLUTELY. Caps, bold, and all.

Naturally, his default IS his dialect. That's what he grew up speaking, that's what he learned, that's what sounds the most correct to him. Yes, it's not the standard, but it's HIS standard.

If reader doesn't know his dialect or if he's going out of his way to be a bit of a little shit, he'll be teasing about it - he's got a sense of humor (as unconventional as it might be). Assuming reader is learning German, he of course will still be helpful with teaching! He'll speak the "textbook" standard, but he's still slipping his dialect in, especially if they're catching onto what he's saying and he wants to make a sly comment.

What did he just say? Oh, nothing, you'll figure it out :) .... eventually, in due time.... and maybe a few post it notes in your text books there...

If they already know German, he'll pretty much insist on his dialect and will maybe speak a bit slower if you're lucky. But he'll talk so much if he likes you, you'll catch on - sooner or later (all apart of his masterplan). He's far more comfortable speaking German so he naturally adopts a faster talking pace too to match

Side note Dialects are SO interesting. One of my pals is Norwegian and he'd look me dead in the eyes and switch to another dialect whenever I understood him. Frustrating, actually pretty hilarious, and gives me MORE incentive to learn and to try and figure it out. How a single language can vary so differently from place to place in the same country is very interesting to see and hear alike

(Also you're absolutely welcome to share head cannons with me anytime!! 💚💚💚 I love hearing them and I love seeing that people can relate and have their own experiences to add. It really adds depth when we know we're never getting more than the bare minimum and it's not entitled at all its so nice to hear these little details)

I'm absolutely on board with that head cannon and support it FULLY in every sense of the word. That's 110% HIM. Since he wasn't much of a talker as a kid too I think it certainly was much more pronounced for that reason before it lessened as he grew up, and especially had more exposure to his peers.

I adore niche head cannons like this, it's my bread and butter. Because you KNOW we'd not get that level of love and attention to detail with or from the game alone and it's just adding that extra pizzazz, that extra depth that he deserves

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 If you don't mind, I'll adopt that for him because it's so perfect??? It's so him I just love the idea so so so much

[therabbitthatpostthings]

I admittedly made Nanami a lot less mean than the original post intended. Idk, I just feel like he's better at hiding his emotions, the only person who truly riles him up is Gojo. I just can’t imagine him foaming at the mouth with jealousy in sorryyy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*

“You never get this dressed up for me.” Gojo dramatically sighed

“And yet, you look extra put together today.” You gestured to his half button silk shirt.

“No need to be jealous, not all of us can look this amazing.” He smirked

You swallowed your come back and turned back to checking your reflection in the passenger window. You took solace that at least Gojo’s ‘extraness’ offset your outfit. Then again, who could outshine Gojo Satoru?

“All this ‘cause your two boyfriends are showing up?” He chuckled

“Nanami finally agrees to come out with us! Can’t I be a little excited!”

“A little.” Gojo scoffed to himself.

Nanami wasn’t having much luck either. Punctual as ever, Nanami stood outside the bar in an off white shirt and slacks, his jacket hung over his arm. Like Gojo, he switched his regular eyewear for tinted glasses. He was already regretting spending his day off like this but couldn’t bring himself to not come. Even after Shoko and Utahime canceled, something pulled him to this outing. Being stuck with you flirting and Gojo non-drunk-drunk ramblings wasn’t exactly an ideal situation but, he couldn’t shake the idea of you being alone and possibly vulnerable with Hasegawa. Something still bothered him about it all. Everything fell too nicely into place. Yaga was very tight lipped about Hasegawa’s sudden inclusion, Nanami was beginning to think that he wasn’t told all the details either. All Yaga would say is that Hasegawa would be working in Tokyo until he had a “suitable” place in Kyoto. He never specified just what kind of work he would need to be so close to both schools but Nanami had a hunch.

He brushed the thoughts away as he heard a familiar voice call out to him. Hasegawa hurried over, “Big city life really isn’t for me.” He wore a black and brown button up over a white shirt. The short sleeves and black pants showed just how skinny he was compared to Nanami and Gojo. With his hair tied back he looked younger. Very different from the disheveled man he was imagining. “Am I late?”

“No, (L/N) and Gojo should be here soon.” Nanami answered plainly

“Fashionably late, that’s (Y/N) for you. They always like this- oh right, you don’t come drinking much do you?” He laughed awkwardly.

“I couldn’t find the time until today so, I wouldn’t know what (L/N) is like.” Nanami replied

“Oh, I guess you two aren’t that close.”

“We’ve drifted apart over the years but I considered them a friend back in highschool. They were my upperclassmen.”

“Ah! No way! That makes me older than you!” He smiled.

His ability to switch attitudes at the drop of a hat was impressive. Nanami was already at a bar he didn’t want to be at and was wasting his day off. The last thing he wanted to do was play mind games with this strange man.

(L/N), just what is your relationship with him?

You and Gojo, mercifully, arrived and stopped the conversation that quickly turned one-sided. You thanked Ijichi and hesitantly stepped out of the car. It was strange seeing you dressed up and outside your normal attire. Not even on the joint missions You and Nanami used to go on were you ever this casually dressed.

“Hope we didn’t keep you two waiting,” Gojo grinned, watching Nanami hold his gaze on you.

“No, I just got here.” Hasegawa replied. He stepped forward towards you, “(Y/N), you never fail to amaze me.”

“At least buy me something before you sweet talk me.” You jokingly rolled your eyes. You turned back to Nanami, “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“It was no problem.” Nanami stated. You two stood there for a moment before Gojo broke the silence and led everyone inside. Not even a single drink down and he already knew this would be an entertaining night.

* ✧ *

It was such a shame that Utahime and Shoko couldn’t make it. Gojo desperately needed someone to witness the minefield he was watching unfold. He could call Mei Mei but it would cost him more than anything she would order. Alas, he had to be entertained all alone. Nanami, suddenly very invested in the stories You and Hasegawa had to tell about the life you lived before coming back to Tokyo. Hasegawa, not at all subtly flirting with you and challenging Nanami. And You, unaware of it all.

Just when he thought this would be another night of complaining about work, he’s treated to a show.

“Excuse me,” You finished your drink and left for the restroom. With you gone, Hasegawa turned to the two men.

“What was (Y/N) like back then, weren’t they your senior?” He smiled nonchalantly.

“(Y/N) hasn’t changed much since then, they’re still the same.” Gojo replied.

“Ah, so still loud and fun.”

Gojo smiled, like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Yeah, they used to go around telling everyone they would marry Nanami one day.”

Nanami took a hard swallow of his drink glaring daggers at Gojo. Gojo returned the favor, peering over the rim of his glasses.

Hasegawa laughed, “That’s funny, (Y/N) barely mentioned you at all. It was so long ago though, you shouldn’t take it to heart.”

His fist clenched around the glass, “Funny. I could say the same for you.”

Before he could respond, Hasegawa got a phone call and excused himself outside.

Gojo whistled once he was out of earshot, “You really know how to welcome a guy to town.”

“Gojo, I wouldn’t advise you to be so casual around someone you just met.”

“Aww are you worried about me.” Gojo teased. “Or worried about, someone else?”

Though Nanami didn’t show it, Gojo knew he struck a nerve.

He continued, “You know, if a stranger is going to be around my students, I’d want to know about it.”

“And what do you know?”

“He was stationed in America a year out from graduating, that’s it.” Gojo said in a serious voice .

“That’s all you know?”

“That’s all I’ve heard.” It bothered Gojo that everyone seemed to know except him. Especially when it came to his student. Of course the higher ups wouldn’t make it so easy. They could risk it. Gojo can’t. For now though, Hasegawa wasn’t a threat to anyone. Well…

“I will worry about Yuuji, I’m his teacher. You should worry about your competition.”

“Competition?” Nanami scoffed.

Gojo smirked. “Isn’t that why you don’t like Hasegawa, Nanamin?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you're worried about (Y/N) changing their mind,don’t be. They are still utterly in love with you!”

“Like that’s what I would care about right now.” He was annoyed but the blush on his face betrayed him.

“You deny it?” Gojo smirked.

“We have more pressing issues to worry about.” Nanami stated.

“Right, so Hasegawa can steal (Y/N) away and it won’t bother you? I guess that’s a way to get rid of him.”

Nanami rolled his eyes, “(L/N) can do whatever they want, it’s not my concern.”

“What’s not your concern?” You asked, appearing behind them. Nanami almost choked on his drink.

“About how you were so worried Nanami wouldn’t like your hair-”

“Gojo!” You whined.

“What? Nanamin already knows you love him! Why hide it?”

“I’m not hiding it. Not everyone needs to know.”

“Really? A couple years ago you would have been screaming it from the rooftop. Have your feelings changed so much?” Gojo jokingly gasped.

“My feelings never changed, I will always want Nanami but at least I’m less pushy about it now.” You huffed sitting down, “Nanami, I want you to think of me as a friend, okay?”

“Right..” that was all he could muster.

* ✧ *

The cool nighttime air hit your face as you and Nanami huddled out the bar first. You placed your phone back in your pocket after hanging up with Ijichi. You and Nanami had a higher tolerance but it still concerned you for him to drive home or ride the train alone. Nanami thanked you, of course.

“I sobered up because I knew Ryo would get hammered.” You assured him.

“You two must have gone out a lot.”

“Yeah, but that was years ago,” (Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad you came tonight Nanami. I hope we can still hang out like this.”

“Yeah. Of course.” For once Nanami didn’t know how to speak to you. The air around you had shifted and it felt like you two were on the same plane of existence, finally. The distance he was worried about before suddenly became shorter. He saw you differently. A part of him thought it was ridiculous, come Monday morning you’d be back to your aggressive flirting. Was that really a bad thing though?

Gojo and Hasegawa came hurdling out the door before he could think any further. “(Y/N)-chan!!!!” Hasegawa cheered. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders, “Take me home with you!”

“You’re too old to be acting like this.” You laughed. “I should get him to bed. See you guys later.”

“Get home safe.” Nanami called out. For a moment he saw Hasegawa look back and smirk at him. He’s drunk…

Gojo cleared his throat, “Lighten up, like you’d lose to someone like him.”

“Gojo, please do not make assumptions about people.”

“Oh that is rich coming from you!”

[vivalas-vega]

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.” 

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.” 

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get. 

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?” 

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous. 

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought. 

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed. 

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out. 

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue. 

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast,  we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.” 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again. 

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

[strange-and-off-putting]

Smegtober Prompt 12: Promise

I'm working on catching up, but I'm going out of order. These will all show up on AO3 eventually, but I don't want to upload out of order, so when I've caught up and fill in the gaps, they'll be there. It's still the 13th in my time zone, so I am, like, 1 and a half prompts behind, lol. This one took the prompt real loosely.

For the first week, he tried desperately to recreate the situation that landed him on Mimas in the first place; pub-hopping, getting blind drunk, and hoping for the best, thinking that maybe whatever landed “Emily Berkenstein” on Mimas would land David Lister safely back at his home in Liverpool.  But after a week of waking up on the bathroom floor of a pub, under a bush by a bus stop, in hospital (twice), and in the drunk tank (no fewer than three times), Lister started thinking that maybe he needed to be a little more intentional with his plan.

So instead of leaving it to chance, he started simply sneaking aboard ships. Passengers vessels, though the most desirable, were far from the best option to sneak aboard; there was far too much gatekeeping, too many checkpoints, “where’s your ticket?,” “can I see your ID?,” and so on.  So Lister considered the next best thing – postal ships. The postal ships that docked at Mimas had the benefit of being direct flights and regularly scheduled; a fleet of hundreds in a constant rotation, from Earth to the Saturnian moon.  

And while the ships themselves were closely guarded, there were numerous post boxes throughout the city that no one gave a second thought to. So on the first night of his second week stranded on Mimas, instead of getting blackout drunk and hoping for the best, Lister got simply moderately pissed, picked a lock, and wedged himself into a post box.

It was only a few hours later, when the service courier came to retrieve the mail, that he opened the access door to the impressively contorted torso of Dave Lister.  

He recoiled quickly, then took a moment to process what he was seeing.  He gingerly pulled open the mail tray and peered inside.  A pair of brown, bloodshot eyes looked out at him, sheepishly. “Hello,” the courier said, awkwardly, not really sure what sort of greeting was appropriate for the situation. “Hey.” “Um… are you okay?” The courier shuffled on his feet.  He looked up, glancing left and right at the still bustling streets.  He was trying to gauge if anyone else was seeing this, though admittedly, given where they were, what was transpiring in front of him didn’t even breach the top five most scandalous things currently occurring in the immediate vicinity.  Lister's brow furrowed as he tried to shift his weight. “Uh, dunno?” he said, grunting against the tight confines of the post box.  “Can’t feel much of anything below my belly button.  Right foot’s gone all staticky and honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on with my left.  I’m assuming it’s still there, since I ain’t gone nowhere.  Could you check?  I’d feel better if someone had eyes on it.” The courier blinks slowly, and kneels down. “It’s… yeah, it’s still there.” “Good,” Lister sighs relieved.  The courier crooks his elbow and rests against the top of the box, watching Lister. “Mate,” he says conspiratorially, “I think you may be drunk.” “Oh, I’m absolutely drunk,” Lister confirms.  He looks around the tight box and then down at his twisted body. “I am a little worried I may be stupid,” he admits.  “Uh… can you help me out of here?” — “I should call the cops, you know,” the courier says, sitting cross-legged on the ground, back up against the post box, as Lister sits beside him, massaging the feeling back into his legs.

“Technically, what you did is a crime,” he continues.  “Tampering with the mail and all that.” “I didn’t tamper with the mail,” Lister says, wincing at the pins-and-needles pricking painfully up and down his legs.  “I tampered with the box, yeah, I’ll give you that, but I didn’t touch the mail.” The courier takes a quick look back in the still open post box and eyes several crushed and crumpled parcels.  He sighs. “Look, what were you doing in there, eh?” He asks,  He looked Lister up and down. “Young bloke like you.  You get yourself in some trouble?” Lister snorts, pausing for a moment in his massaging.  He stares out at the street, at the strings of lights canopying the darkened alleyways and illuminating the writhing and undulating figures taking refuge in the shadow and sighs. “Long story,” he says quietly, rubbing feeling back into his feet.  “Short answer’s yes.” He sighs and pulls his knees to his chest, stomps his feet on the pavement, willing sensation back into them. “Stranded out here,” he says.  “Home’s back on Earth. Liverpool.  Promised myself I’d find my way back, find out what happened to my mates.” “Your mates?”  “Yeah, my friends.  Drinking buddies,” he explains.  “Went out for my birthday, got bsolutely wasted. I wound up here, but I was alone.  No idea where anyone else ended up.  Could all be back home in Liverpool wondering where the smeg I am.” He shrugs.  “Could be scattered all around the bloody solar system, wondering where each other is.  Gotta find out, you know?” “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” the courier says.  Lister shrugs. “Yeah, well, also promised them, didn’t I?  We all swore to help each other out of any scrapes we got into.” “Yeah?  You think they’re tying themselves in literal knots, like you, trying to find each other?” He shrugs. “Only promise I can keep is my own,” he says.  He grabs the post box and starts to pull himself up.  His ankles almost buckle, but he catches himself nd pulls himself to his feet.  He stomps his feet against the pavement.  He smiles at the courier in triumph, before it fades to something more like a grimace.  “So, you gonna call the cops, or…?” The courier is already on his knees, loading mail into his satchel.  He shakes his head, flattening out a letter with his hand.” “Nah,” he says.  “Place is a cesspool.  It’s a good night when no one’s pissed in one of these things.”  He looks up at Lister. "Might as well just take off, “ he says.  “Stay safe.” Lister laughs.  “Not my strong suit.” “Aye, well,” he sighs.  “Stay alive, then.” “Yeah, man,” he says, walking away, hands deep in his pockets.  “Always do.”      

[nomorefstogive]

Funfact, there us a yugioh archetype based on dark souls. Look up ashened. It would be amazing to see your reactions and analysis on it if you want to.

Hello, again I am sorry for the delay with this, I will be answering both this ask and your previous one regarding the Umbrella Academy Dance Off idea in this one reply.

First, let's start with the most humorous of the pair, that being the dance off, I am admittedly not that experienced with Umbrella Academy, but the image that post has painted in my mind left me chuckling for quite a while after reading it.

As for how such a thing would occur in a SAGAU setting...hmmm...I have two ideas for the matter, the first involves Venti's one true love and the other involves the one thing you can always expect to occur when such wildly devoted individuals over hear something and make an assumption.

The first one, as I stated, involves the one true love of the Tone-Deaf Bard; Booze. To be exact, it involves the acolytes getting drunk off their asses at a celebration and someone, perhaps even the reader themselves, inadvertently starting the dance off as a means of showing off for the reader who, along with the other sober participants, is watching with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment at the mess before them.

The second involves the acolytes being sober...well...oaky all of them but Venti who is rarely, if ever truly sober, with them misunderstanding something the reader says and trying to impress them at a ball or other such form of celebration, with the ensuing chaos being a game to try and court the readers favor...or make them die of embarrassment and laughter, they are not certain because while some of them can dance...others...well...the kindest descriptor is an epileptic chicken with a strobe light tied to its face running around with a sparkler shoved somewhere sensitive...in other words, a mess.

As for the Ashened, it does indeed remind me a great deal of the Soulsborne series, the naming schemes for the characters, along with the link to fire and a constant cycle of conflict, with their souls having been trapped within an unending cycle of battle for a nation and cause long swept under the ashes and dust of the past.

The character designs seem like they would be quite fitting in the gritty and grim setting of the Soulsborne verse as well, along with the mechanic the main boss of the deck seems to have involving consuming the souls of the fallen to enhance its own strength. which calls to mind the Lords of Cinder from DS3...a dragon Lord Of Cinders...oh that is a nightmare that will haunt me for some time.

Veidos...hmmm...why do I suddenly hear Dark Eater Midir's theme?

The idea of them being trapped in a cycle does make me wonder just how powerful each of them would be when they are taken out of their ashen city, as, assuming we are following the logic of the Souls genre, they would have been growing in power and skill with each life and death as they gained the souls of their fallen comrades to further fuel their struggle against extinction made flesh.

Which also asks just how powerful Veidos would be if he does indeed absorb all of the fallen inhabitants souls should he be pushed too far, with the surge of power likely placing him on par with, if not superior, to the Archons in terms of sheer destructive power, and that is assuming he does not also gain their memories and power to further enhance himself.

I am curious as to just what would happen should their cycle end, as it seems to be caging Veidos and preventing it from taking any actions against the rest of the world due to it appearing to be trapped with them, assuming I am reading this correctly, so I wonder if the cycles breaking would herald him being released on the world in full, or if they would have worn him down over the aeons spent battling him.

Regardless of that matter, the idea of them having been fighting for so long that not only has history forgotten their names, but it is likely their entire nation has long been swept from the maps, which would cause no small amount of chaos should it be discovered as the nations would likely try and search for whatever wealth and power is hidden in the ruins of the nation, only to be pulled into the cycle, likely being viewed as enemies by the people of Obsidim.

I feel that by the time they are able to bridge the language barrier or convince them that they are not on the side of Veidos, that iteration of the cycle would likely have reached its conclusion, with those dying being enveloped by the same power that seared the Ashened warriors souls into their city and thus joining in bein g trapped in the cycle until it is at last broken with Veidos' death.

Something that will not come easy.

That is all I have for now, sorry for the delay with this again, take care and stay safe.

[gabessquishytum]

okay babe i just remembered that post from a bit ago where you mentioned you want more intox kink around here so! a thought!

this could work with a few diffenrt parts -- definitely including the corinthian -- but mallory's recent fic has me craving more of dream and destruction playing with hob so i'm going in that direction i think. so. hob being immortal means he doesn't have to worry about pesky little things like. you know. alcohol poisoning. so maybe sometimes his partner likes to play with that a little bit. hob's probably more of a "fun drunk" type by nature, but with a little coaxing? he'll turn teary and needy and absolutely desperate to please.

so! imagine! they're in the new inn after hours, hob's been closing up, and destruction is eager to play with his favourite little unbreakable plaything. so the moment hob's finished? he's pinned against the bar, helpless to do anything but brace his hands against the wood, as he feels something cold and hard press against his hole. it's not the first time destruction's fucked him with a wine bottle, though he admittedly... doesn't normally bother fucking hob with the neck? but hob figures it's probably just a warm up, and soon enough he'll find himself being stretched wide by the base of the bottle.

instead, destruction hauls him up onto the bar, chest down and ass up, with the bottle still in place. and hob realizes it... wasn't an empty bottle. was probably full, or close to, considering how much liquid hob can feel pouring into his guts. and all hob can do is lay there as destruction starts fucking the bottle deeper and deeper into him and hob's head starts to spin.

once he's good and drunk, destruction helps him down off the bar and sends him wobbling off to dream, who loves to coo over their sweet little pet when he's all flushed and dizzy and desperate to be a good boy. even when destruction's got him plugged with a full beer bottle, ready to spill more alcohol into his guts the second hob tips too far forward.

-🐈‍⬛

EEEE it's so sweet of you to send this!!! I am an absolute fiend for intox (and I am also VERY obsessed with mallory's fic which I will link here - everyone mind the tags, pls).

So yes!!!! I think we definitely need more of Hob being Destruction & Dream’s lil unbreakable sex toy. He likes it when things get weird and disgusting and a little dangerous.

He loves it particularly when Destruction manhandles him, gets him slung across the bar-top like he's no more than a ragdoll. Hob can squirm all he likes but he's going nowhere until Destruction lets him up.

The wine is cold inside his body, and he can feel it rushing into all kinds of places where it ought not to be. As it's made such a direct path into his guts in such a short space of time, he can feel the impact almost immediately. The wine sloshes around inside him and his head gets fuzzy as his eyes start to tear up. He goes from giggling and squeezing his hole around the bottle, to whimpering and begging for mercy as his limp body squirms and hiccups.

Poor Hob can barely walk back up to the flat but Destruction makes him do it - so he can stumble right into Dream’s arms and complain incoherently about what's been done to him. Of course Dream pretends to be sympathetic, rubbing his cold hands against Hob’s trembling stomach. Hob crawls into Dream’s lap and hiccups and whimpers and before long, he's rutting his half hard dick against Dream’s hip. Poor baby can't even manage to get completely hard because he's so full of alcohol.

Destruction makes sure he stays topped up and full - while Hob is squirming around in Dream’s lap, he's inevitably tipping more of the drink into his body. At this point he doesn't even notice - he's just incoherently mumbling about how hot he feels and how much he wants to be good.

And his lovers never want to deny him an opportunity to be a good boy. The bottle is quickly replaced with something much, much bigger, forcing its way into Hob’s trembling hole. As always Destruction's cock is just a little bit too big to be comfortable, but Hob is past the point of pain. He's just eagerly humping against Dream (and accepting the large mouthfuls of the wine that Dream presses to his lips... just to make sure he doesn't get too thirsty, or too sober).

His body is so loose and trembly he can barely keep himself sitting up, by the time Destruction is finished with him. A perfect little fucktoy, sloppy and drooling and barely conscious. He's absolutely everything that his lovers could possibly want (and of course, they nurse him through the killer hangover that follows).

[bright-and-burning]

thank you for the tag @albonoooo <333

star sign: leo (attention whore signs 4 the win)

favourite holiday: my neighborhood does neighbor day every year and that’s a solid percentage of my favorite childhood memories. my neighborhood is very very close (very much so an “it takes a village” mentality) so i grew up with essentially twenty aunts and uncles. and also like ten dogs and thirteen vaguely cousin-esque figures on my block. anyways it’s like a massive potluck barbecue thing, it goes from like noon to whenever the last person heads in (which can be quite late). think like. potluck barbecue to casual day drinking to big bonfire w smores as the day goes by. as a kid i spent the whole day roaming the neighborhood and coming back every so often to grab food from the tables before heading off again. as an adult i got to get drunk on seltzers with a bunch of 50 somethings and it was incredible

last meal: omg it was my last ohio meal… i got it from this really special like local version of sonic’s (like a drive up food place). they make their burgers w a little bit of brown sugar and mashed banana (they’re the best burgers i’ve ever had). so i had a double hamburger w fries and a mint shake w brownie spindled in. if you’re ever driving through ohio PLEASE hit me up to get this place’s name it’s GLORIOUS. 1980s pricing (admittedly 80s portions too lol). neon signs everywhere. what i will miss the most

current favourite musician: i tend to just hit play on my liked songs so whatever i liked most recently gets played wayyyy more. a lot of the backseat lovers rn

last music listened to: mama’s gun by glass animals (BANGER OF A SONG!!!)

last movie watched: the muppet christmas carol i think . yeah according to letterboxd that lmfao

last tv show watched: i just binged monarch: legacy of monsters w my parents (amazing godzilla tv show but godzilla’s only in it for like. 10 minutes total lol. gay people <3) and then we started lockwood & co tonight on a whim

last book/fic finished: the invisible library by genevieve cogman !!! so good. librarian spy thieves…

last book/fic abandoned: oh gosh. i am such a completionist that i don’t think i ever leave books unfinished. technically i won’t be able to finish the masked city (the sequel to the invisible library) bc it belongs to the library and i am moving. but i will be picking it back up as soon as i have a library card in my new area so? does that even count? yeah i don’t really dnf things

currently reading: the masked city by genevieve cogman technically. lol. i’m trying to read at least a page a day in january. some days that means literally reading a page other days it’s reading 300. since i started the masked city like four days ago ive only made it through 30 pages bc moving is a nightmare so.

last thing researched for writing/art/hyperfixation: hm. technically for the last thing i like posted that would be the drug testing guidelines for f1 (tldr fun fact party drugs are fine out of competition). i read like. 60 pages of legalese. and a bunch of medical stuff and then several wikipedia pages and guides for athletes. the last wikipedia article i opened was for NATO and i have no idea why LOL

favourite online fandom memory: i have the memory of a goldfish… i’m also pretty sure f1 is the first time i’ve been involved w a fandom like. as it’s happening. i’m usually a latecomer . i did enjoy whatever the fuck went down w supernatural and putin that was fun second hand (literally thru a groupchat bc i was in my significantly less terminally online era aka i was in college)

favourite old fandom you wish would drag you back in/have a resurgence: newsies (1992) my beloved… i plotted out a fic that would stretch over like. 40 years. i went INSANE on historical accuracy research. and then i got depressed… someday my magnum opus (slice of life polyamory through turn of the century nyc) will come to fruition

favourite thing you enjoy that never had an active or big fandom, but you wish it did: i feel like there’s been a million times i’ve walked out of a movie (or finished a book, or a tv show) and gone to ao3 and then it has like. 4 works. the rivers of london series by ben aaronovitch only has like . 1k fics on ao3. and not a lot of ppl posting on tumblr. so maybe that?

tempting project you're trying to rein in/don't have time for: all of them tbh… runners au really (it’s spawned into like three different fics of plot lines Plus an epistolary type companion…). i literally constantly come up w ideas (usually hyper specific aus) all the time ask dees it’s a PROBLEM for me. bc i have no time for any of them…

no pressure tags if u wld like <3 @userkritaaay @leclercenjoyer @drivestraight @oscarpiastriwdc @eyes-likepilotlights (i have not paid a ton of attention to who has done this/been tagged sorry)

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Six

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: I am getting some feedback that Chuck is OOC and I am AWARE he is OOC, I was going for a Chuck that is somewhere between prophet!Chuck and initial nice!God!Chuck because Cas needed a father that wasn’t a) a hopeless mess of a drunk or b) a megalomaniacal child having a constant temper tantrum. :D

Pretty much just fluff and smut in this chapter, not much else. New chapter next Thursday or Friday, depending on my schedule! Can also be read over on AO3!

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Six By Senashenta

The next day after school, instead of Dean walking Cas home, Cas walked with him back to the motel. They needed to upload the cocoon photos they had taken the day before to Sam’s laptop, and this way they could spend a little more time together before Cas had to head home. He called his father to let him know he was at ‘Dean’s place’ and would be home in time for dinner.

He and Dean, admittedly, made out a little before Sam got home from school, but no one was surprised by that fact. This time the door was properly locked behind them, so Sam had to knock, which meant he at least didn’t walk in on them like last time. It could have been worse.

Once Sam was there (and Cas and Dean had fixed their clothes), they wasted no time in uploading the photos, and then all settled in for a research session while Sam went over the pictures with a fine-toothed comb.

Eventually, Sam was laying on one of the beds, going through a pile of old books, while Cas and Dean sat at the kitchenette table, Cas also going through books and Dean reading articles on Sam’s laptop. Cas had left his own laptop at home, mostly because he didn’t want to chance taking it to school with him and having it broken—or stolen.

An hour and a half in, Dean disappeared from the room and came back with his arms full of cans of soda, bags of chips and chocolate bars—he had raided the vending machines in the motel lobby. They all helped themselves and continued to work, munching away quietly.

When it got close to time for him to be leaving, though, Cas’s attention began to pull away from the book currently in front of him and toward Dean because—

“Hey, Dean?” His voice came out hesitant, but Dean didn’t notice, too focused on the article he was reading on Sam’s laptop.

“Yeah?”

“My Father is going to be out of town this weekend. He has a seminar in Maine. Do you want to come over after school tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure.” Still distracted.

Over on the bed Sam faceplanted into his book and muttered, “oh my God,” under his breath.

Cas tried again, this time reaching to take hold of Dean’s arm. When Dean finally looked up, he cleared his throat and offered, “do you want to come over for the night?”

This time Dean got it. Realization dawned in his eyes, and he coughed, looked down, then looked back up and adjusted himself in his seat. “Yeah, definitely.” He managed, voice just a touch strained.

“Gross.” Sam protested.

“Watch it, brat.” Dean warned, ignoring the flush of red that was tinting the tips of his ears.

Cas squeezed his arm with a little smile and then returned to his own research. “We can order pizza.”

“Yeah ‘cause pizza’s what I’m gonna be worried about.” Dean muttered, making both Cas and Sam snort.

It was only a short time later that Cas had to excuse himself. It was a long walk home and he had promised his father he would be there in time for dinner. So, he packed up his things and headed for the door—only for Dean to stop him on the threshold and pull him into a kiss.

Sam grumbled, but Cas smiled against Dean’s lips and angled his head for another one—longer and deeper—before stepping back and giving the older teen a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” There was just a touch of nervousness in Dean’s voice.

Cas found it downright adorable.

-- --

[Cherry, I think. Why?]

Cas was fully aware that Dean had a thing for pie, and that night, while sitting in his room working on his homework, he had texted Sam to ask what his brother’s favorite kind of pie was. Sam seemed baffled by the question. Cas just responded:

[I want to make a pie for him. For tomorrow night.]

There was a long pause before Sam replied to that, seeming to understand now:

[OH. I get it. In that case, definitely cherry, but with chili peppers.]

Cas made a little confused noise to himself: [Chili peppers?] He questioned. He didn’t know much about cooking or baking, but that sounded… odd. Still, he trusted Sam, so he just waited for the younger boy’s answer:

[Yeah, like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers? It’s a hot-and-sweet thing they do with desserts sometimes. Dean loves it.]

Cas supposed that made sense. He knew people put strange food combinations together all the time, even if he didn’t understand it himself:

[Okay. Thank you, Sam.]

Now, Cas was of course not particularly known for the culinary skills. He had told that to Dean before on more than one occasion, and it was true, that was why he packed the same sandwiches for them every day for lunch at school. But he really wanted to at least try to do this for his boyfriend, so he grabbed his wallet, shoved it in his pocket, and headed downstairs.

“Where are you going? It’s getting late.” Chuck called from the living room when he saw Cas pulling on his shoes.

“To the grocery store.” Cas replied, “I’m going to bake a pie.”

Chuck nearly spit his coffee. He winced visibly (Cas couldn’t blame him), but in the end didn’t protest, instead just offering, “okay, good luck with that!”

-- --

After he got back from the store, Cas spent a good portion of the night attempting to bake a pie with minimal success (he set the smoke alarm off three times), and, after his final product was set to cool on the counter, locked up in his room doing research. The kind of research that he definitely didn’t want his father walking in on. The kind of research where he huddled in his bed with his laptop volume way down and his earphones in anyway, just in case.

Because. He had never done this before, and if things went the way he thought they were going to the next night, he wanted to know what he was in for. As much as he had tried to tell his father that he’d already learned everything from health class, that had been a blatant lie—because school health class only covered straight intercourse, and that was not what this was going to be. Like at all.

He had a general idea what was involved in sex between two men but didn’t know the details—or hadn’t. Now he did, and he understood why his father had shoved a tube of lubricant at him a couple days before. It made logical sense. It didn’t make it any less mortifying.

But even though all his research was, yes, mortifying, and at times confusing, it didn’t make him want it any less, especially since it would be with Dean. There was something about the thought of being that close with Dean—physically, emotionally—that made his stomach squirmy in a pleasant sort of way. Made him smile to himself, even though he was the only one in the room.

Assuming Dean wanted to, of course, which, judging from what had gone on between them so far, seemed a given, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, could he? Cas would just have to wait and see.

Sufficed to say that he didn’t get much sleep that night, and stumbled through his morning routine when his alarm jerked him awake at seven. He had fallen asleep with his laptop in his bed, his earphones still in from his forbidden and embarrassing Internet searches.

At least with little sleep there had been little time for nightmares, though he had still dreamt something vague about absorbing utter darkness into himself and then melting away into nothingness in a river. It had actually been one of his less distressing dreams, all things considered.

When he managed to get showered and dressed and make it downstairs, his father took one look at him and shoved a cup of coffee in his direction. He didn’t comment on the ‘pie’ on the counter. Cas downed the coffee like he’d been lost in the desert, and it was the first liquid he’d seen in a month.

By the time he had to actually leave for school he was feeling mildly more awake, and Chuck wished him a good day of classes and said goodbye, told him to behave and asked him to please not burn the house down—he would be leaving town while Cas was still in class.

The walk to school was long and arduous, and when he arrived at Caspar, Cas still felt partly asleep, but managed to locate Dean where he was waiting for him outside the building, regardless. He all but collapsed into the older boy’s chest, his head coming down against Dean’s shoulder. He yawned hugely.

“You look rough.” Dean observed even as he wrapped Cas up in his arms and tilted his head to kiss by his temple lightly. “Long night?”

“So long.” Cas agreed, stifling another yawn into Dean’s shoulder. He pushed back enough to look up at Dean, “I’ll be fine, I just have to wake up.”

Dean hesitated, then, “you sure you want me to come over tonight?”

But Cas shook his head immediately. He leaned in for a kiss. “I’m sure. Definitely.” Especially after all his preparation the night before. Between that and his father being out of town, it would be a waste. “I just need some caffeine.” Then, after a pause, “some more caffeine. I already had coffee.”

“Mm, I can taste it.” Dean smiled at him and kissed him gently again. “As long as you’re sure, Cas.”

Cas hummed and just leaned back against Dean again. “I’m sure, Dean.”

“Okay. Good. Because I already gave Sammy the whole lecture on Motel Safety since he’s going to be on his own overnight.”

A soft chuckle. “I’m sure he loved that.”

“Loved is a strong word.”

Another quiet laugh. Cas brought one hand up to pat against Dean’s chest, amused. For the first time in days, he wasn’t hearing the whispers that were surely going on around them. “Sam will be fine. He’s capable.”

“He’s thirteen.”

“And he was raised by you and your Dad, right? So, he’ll be okay.”

“I guess.” Dean allowed.

It was hard for him to think of Sam as anything other than a little kid, because he had practically raised him himself. Their dad had been there, sure, off-and-on, but he had been absent as much as he had been around, Dean had been the constant in Sam’s life. But realistically, Cas was right: Sam was growing up. He wouldn’t die just from spending one night in the motel by himself. Dean just didn’t like to admit it.

“If he rats me out to Dad about all this, I swear I’ll kill him myself.”

Cas gave a little snort and brought one hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, gentle reassurance even as he continued to rest his head on the older teen’s shoulder. “You will not.” He accused softly, breath warm at the crook of Dean’s neck, “you live for Sam.”

But Dean shook his head and tightened his arms around Cas slightly. “Not anymore.”

Cas’s fingers paused in Dean’s hair, then curled, tugging gently just once. He swallowed. “Dean, I—”

And then the first bell rang.

Cas jolted a little—and then sighed and pulled away from Dean, giving him a small smile. “You’re coming home with me straight after school?”

Dean reluctantly let him go, arms falling back to his sides, though he leaned close for one more kiss. “Yeah.”

Cas returned the kiss but didn’t deepen it, instead easing back to head inside. “See you at lunch, Dean.”

Then he ducked away and hurried into the building, leaving Dean to follow at a much more reluctant pace.

-- --

Lunch was spent quietly that day, the two of them just eating and sitting together, mostly in silence. Cas couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Dean was coming home with him—really coming home with him. And as much as he wanted it, there was a little ball of nervousness in his stomach, too. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

Dean seemed to be contemplating something himself, but whatever it was he didn’t share—and Cas didn’t ask. He never pushed Dean too hard. He knew Dean had his secrets, and sometimes it was better to let him keep them. Everyone was entitled to their own private thoughts, after all.

After school, Cas got out to the front of the building first, which was of course the typical way things went, and spent a few minutes fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt while he waited for Dean, perking when the other boy emerged from the school and headed over to where he was sitting.

“Up you come,” Dean reached down to take his hand and haul him to his feet, and Cas allowed it with a laugh. “How was your afternoon?”

“It was good. No cocoons in gym. Charlie says hi.”

“I don’t even know Charlie.”

“But she knows you.” Cas brushed off the back of his jeans with his free hand, his other hand still holding onto Dean’s. He picked up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder, then tugged at Dean’s hand gently. “Let’s go.”

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked as they stepped off school property and turned right. “You don’t look as rough as you did this morning.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, adjusting his backpack, and then looking sideways at Dean, “I feel better. Just had trouble waking up this morning. Long night on the laptop.”

Dean smirked a little. “I never would have figured you as one for porn, Cas.”

Cas flushed red. “Dean!”

Dean laughed and squeezed his hand. “I’m kidding!” And then, “homework, right? Sam sometimes spends all night working on homework too. Then he drinks way too much coffee for a kid his age. What class?”

“Uh,” Cas was still bright red, but to his credit he shrugged and lied, “ancient civ. I had and essay due today and I’d, um, really procrastinated over it. I had to cram most of it in last night.”

“’Procrastinated’?”

“You are very distracting, Dean.”

A grin and Dean leaned over to kiss by his ear. “You’re still blushing. It’s adorable. I’m sorry.”

Cas grumbled under his breath but didn’t have anything to say in response to that. He just turned his eyes to the ground, watching his feet as he walked and willing the blushing to go away. That was embarrassing.

“You mad at me?”

“…no. Of course not. Just… embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It’s cute.”

“Saying that will not make the blushing stop, Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

When they got to Cas’s house, the door was predictably locked, and Cas dug his key out to let them in. Once inside with the door closed behind them, they paused in the entryway to take their shoes off—his father may not have been home, but No Shoes In The House was still the rule—and Cas set his backpack on the little bench by the door. He would take it upstairs later. Maybe.

Then he turned to look at Dean, hesitated, and finally informed him, “I made you a pie. For tonight. To go with the pizza.”

Dean started to perk—and then stopped. “Wait, you made a pie?”

Cas nodded.

This was worrying for a few reasons, but mostly because they had established early on that Cas could not cook. He had once said he could burn water. Dean hesitated, probably too long, and then finally said; “sure, let’s have a look at it!” With as much false hope and enthusiasm as a person could possibly convey. Cas didn’t buy it for a second, but also didn’t fault him for it, either.

So, they made their way to the kitchen, where… something, certainly not a pie, was waiting on the middle island, practically radiating malevolence. It was lopsided for sure, but one half was burnt black while the other half was somehow still practically raw. Frankly, Dean wondered if he should be Hunting it or something. He was pretty sure if you poked it, the thing would utter the word “eeeeevil.”

Cas just looked down on it and deadpanned, “nothing went according to plan, Dean. I suspect I am not good at baking pies.” Then he looked back up at Dean and added, “you don’t have to eat it. I just wanted you to know I tried.”

Oh good. Dean nodded and questioned with morbid curiosity, “what flavor is it?”

“Cherry,” Okay, a respectable flavor at leas— “with chili peppers.”

Dean balked. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“You know, like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers.” Cas explained, as if the words coming out of his mouth made perfect sense, “Sam said cherry was your favorite, and that cherry goes with spice like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers and—and you are looking at me like I’m saying something stupid. I’m saying something stupid, aren’t I?”

Sam. Of course. Dean palmed over his face and muttered “that little shit” before returning his attention to Cas, reaching to pull him closer and leaning in to kiss him gently. “Cas, my brother was screwing with you. And me. This is one hundred percent a prank. No one eats cherry pie with chilis. And it’s the Red Hot Chili Peppers, they’re a band. Like music, not like pie.”

Cas frowned. “Apparently Sam can also be a jerk sometimes.”

Dean actually laughed at that, grinning at his boyfriend before going in for another kiss. “That’s what brothers are for.”

Cas hummed against his lips and decided, “next time I’ll just buy a pie.”

Another grin. “That sounds like a good plan. Also, I’m going to make you an essential music playlist, your lack of music knowledge is just sad.”

“If you must.”

“Oh, I must.”

-- --

They ordered pizza for dinner (pepperoni, sausage, bacon and extra cheese—no vegetables for Dean, it seemed, but that was fine with Cas, he actually found it amusing) and took it to the living room, taking over the coffee table with the box and a couple of cans of soda, and then flicking through Netflix, discussing what to watch for several long minutes until Dean decided on a movie Cas probably had no interest in. The younger teen didn’t mind, though, he was more interested in Dean anyway.

So, they ate their pizza sitting side by side in front of the television, Dean explaining the movie to Cas along the way because the other boy was (predictably) lost right from the start.

Once they were done eating, they sprawled out over the rest of the couch, Cas leaning into one corner and Dean stretched out on his back, his head in Cas’s lap and a little, content smile on his face while Cas stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair, just toying with the soft strands gently.

Neither of them was really watching the movie anymore. Dean’s eyes were closed over and Cas was looking down at him, not at the TV, but the film continued to play in the background, regardless.

“Hey, Dean?” Cas asked finally, tugging gently at a strand of his hair.

Dean hummed out a happy noise. “Yeah?”

“You should be kissing me.”

“Oh, thank God,” Green eyes blinked open again and Dean began to sit up, “I was going crazy trying not to touch you over here!”

Over here was literally in his lap, but Cas got the idea anyway, especially when Dean made a point of immediately dragging him over and maneuvering Cas into his lap so that Cas was straddling him, then pulling him into a kiss.

The next while was spent continuing to ignore the movie entirely, making out heavily, hands wandering, hips grinding and little, nonsensical murmurs between kisses until Dean began trailing them down Cas’s jawline and neck, biting gently, and Cas muttered breathlessly, “my Father says I have to watch out for you. You’re just another horny teenage boy, essentially.”

Dean grinned against the crook of his neck. “And what do you think?”

“I think… I think we’re both teenage boys.” Cas swallowed and licked his lips, then sat back a little and lifted a hand to tug at Dean’s shirt lightly; “and I think we should go upstairs.”

Dean paused at that before leaning in to kiss Cas again, just gently this time. “You sure about that, Cas?”

Sliding his hand up to grip in Dean’s hair, Cas bit his lip and rocked his hips firmly into the older boy’s, making it more than obvious how hard he was, as if it hadn’t been already. He nodded, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sure.”

“Oh shit—” Dean swore, his own hips bucking upward in response, and panted softly, drawing Cas into another series of kisses, hot, deep, and hungry, “you’re incredible, do you know that?”

Cas laughed breathlessly and teased, “you’re just saying that because you want to get in my pants. As they say.”

But Dean shook his head. He bumped their foreheads together again and gave him another kiss, this time just brief and warm. “No. You’re incredible.”

Surprise. A blink. Cas tilted his head curiously, “but why? I’m not…” Trailing off, he glanced down, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he considered his words; “…special. I’ve never been special.”

“You are special, though.” Dean sighed, tightening his arms around Cas to pull the other boy even closer, and tilted his head to press soft kisses along his jaw back to his ear; “so don’t be stupid, you know I adore you.”

“I—” Cas leaned into the kisses, blue eyes closing over. “Same. But about you.”

Dean smiled against his skin. “Mm, I know.” Nipping by his jaw lightly, he sat back to give Cas another proper kiss. “Still want to go upstairs?”

“Definitely.” No hesitation. Cas smiled and began disentangling himself from the other boy so he could climb out of his lap and stand, “I did research. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Dean followed him up, brushing at his clothes once he was standing—but then stopped. “Wait, research?”

“Well yeah.” Cas shrugged, flushing just a little as he reached for Dean’s hand and then headed for the stairs, “it’s what I was actually doing last night, not homework. I’ve never done this before, so I thought I should know what I’m in for.”

“Oh.” Dean managed weakly. “So, you’ve really never…?”

A pause in Cas’s steps. He glanced back over his shoulder. “No.”

“Not even with girls?” He had known that he was Cas’s first boyfriend, but still.

“No… why? Does that matter?”

Dean’s face was getting progressively redder and redder. Cas just tugged at his hand to get him walking again. “Uh, what kind of research did you do?” He asked finally, voice just a touch higher than normal.

Another shrug as they climbed the stairs. “Just all kinds of things. Articles and videos and stuff. Most of it made sense. There was one video with a babysitter and a pizza man that was really… baffling, though.” (Most of the videos hadn’t been in any way logical, if he was being honest with himself.)

That made Dean laugh again, though. “I think I’ve seen that one.” He joked weakly—and then tugged Cas to a stop just outside his bedroom door. “Cas, I—” He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “Are you—I mean, I know you said you were sure, but are you sure-sure?I don’t—it’s just—shit, man, I want this so bad, but if you’ve never…” Green eyes met Cas’s searchingly, “I just really don’t want to screw this up, that’s all.”

Cas just looked at him, ignoring the faint redness in his own face. “Are you nervous because I’m a virgin?” Dean sputtered an affirmative, and Cas gave a little half-smile, “but you’ve never slept with another boy either, right?” Another somewhat squawked agreeing noise; “so aren’t we in the same boat?” He squeezed Dean’s hand gently and offered; “besides, you… you won’t mess it up. I don’t think you could. And even if you did, how would I know? Anyway… I want it to be you, for my first time. Okay?”

Dean looked at him in astonishment. “Why—why do you want it to be me?”

“Because I—” This time Cas hesitated, but only briefly before turning around to face Dean properly. He sighed and lifted both hands to rest against Dean’s chest, feeling how hard his heart was beating under his palms. “Because you care. Because you can be so gentle when you want to be. You always are with me, anyway.” Glancing down, he shrugged one shoulder and added, “because I’m very seriously falling in love with you.”

And oh. Dean’s eyes widened and he paused to gather his suddenly swirling thoughts, swallowing and licking his lips before wrapping his arms around Cas and pulling him closer, tilting his head to press a kiss against his forehead. “You know how I feel about you, Cas. You’re the most important person in my life, along with Dad and Sam, and I…” He trailed off then, ducking to nuzzle into Cas’s neck warmly. “Cas, I…”

Cas brought one hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair and smiled fondly. “I understand.” Then, a little worried that he might have pushed Dean too far already, he murmured, “do you not want to have sex tonight, Dean? We could just finish the movie and cuddle. Make out some more. That would be nice, too.”

But as much as Dean was worried about screwing things up, he still really did want to go through with this—he did suffer terribly from being a Teenage Boy, it was true—and he laughed against Cas’s neck at the very idea of waltzing back downstairs and just going back to the movie like nothing had happened.

“Not a chance.” He grinned and reached to open the door to Cas’s bedroom, bumping it open and backing into the room, tugging Cas with him. Cas went along willingly, closing the door behind them—and then Dean crowded him back into the closed door, pressing close and drawing him into a series of heated, wanting kisses.

Cas uttered a muffled pleased noise, hands coming up to hold at either side of Dean’s neck. He returned Dean’s kisses in kind, holding him close even as Dean’s hands rubbed at his hips before sliding up his sides, under his shirt and the older boy slid a knee between his legs to grind against him.

“Oh, God,” Cas broke off with a gasp to let his head fall back against the door and Dean dove in to trail messy kisses along the curve of his throat, his hands still under Cas’s shirt and rubbing hotly along his skin. “Dean…”

“Mmh.” Was Dean’s response. He slid his hands around to Cas’s back, still under his shirt, and pulled him away from the door and over toward the bed, kissing along his neck the entire time.

Once they were across the room they basically tumbled into the bed, Dean settling over Cas easily, comfortably, and Cas reaching up to pull the older boy down for more kisses even as Dean pulled at Cas’s shirt, pushing it up as far as he could without the younger teen’s cooperation. Then he just made a soft frustrated noise against Cas’s lips, almost pouting.

Cas laughed breathlessly and pushed Dean back a bit, then pulled his shirt off and tossed it away. That was followed by bringing his hands up to grab at the front of Dean’s shirt. “Yours, too.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, sitting back and pulling off the long-sleeved flannel shirt he was wearing, discarding it before grabbing at the back of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. It was pitched somewhere on the floor, too.

Cas just looked up at his boyfriend for a moment, swallowing thickly. Dean was already reaching to undo Cas’s jeans, and suddenly this was very real. Cas took a shaky breath but lifted his hips up when Dean started tugging his jeans down, allowing them to be pulled away and discarded easily.

“Dean…”

Something in his voice made Dean freeze, halfway to having his own jeans undone. “Cas?” He let go of his zipper and carefully lowered himself down, this time next to Cas, pressed into his side, leaning to kiss him gently. “Is this still okay?”

“I—” It wasn’t that he was having second thoughts, he still wanted this, he just… “I think I just—realized. That this is actually happening.” Then a short pause and he looked sideways at Dean to tell him, “sorry, it’s kind of a lot.”

Dean gave a relieved sigh and relaxed, tipping his head to kiss by Cas’s jaw. “You still want to?”

“Mm.” Cas hummed at the kiss and closed his eyes for just a moment before opening them again, giving Dean a smile. “I really do.”

“You sure?”

“Dean.”

“Just checking.” Dean defended and then added softly, “I really don’t want to screw this up, Cas. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And I appreciate that, but still.” Cas lifted a hand up to card his fingers through Dean’s hair, tugging gently, and ordered, “take your pants off, Dean.”

A grin from the older boy. “I can do that.”

Dean climbed out of the bed long enough to shuck out of his jeans and boxers before clambering back onto the mattress, easing up against Cas’s side again. Cas swallowed a little again—and leaned in for a kiss, even as he reached with one hand to palm at Dean’s cock. Dean groaned against his mouth, muffled against his lips, and rocked his hips into Cas’s hand lightly.

But that wasn’t what the goal was, here, no matter how much they both enjoyed it. And it seemed unfair that Dean was stripped completely bare while Cas was still wearing his boxers… so Cas let go of Dean’s dick, placated him with another little kiss, then quickly stripped his own boxers off and pitched them out of the way.

Dean propped himself up on one arm to lean over Cas and ducked in for another kiss. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His free hand was wandering now, sliding hotly across Cas’s skin, along his chest and down to his abdomen—then lower.

Cas just whined at the compliment and arched into Dean’s touches, bringing one hand up to grab at the side of Dean’s neck and pull him closer again. “Dean.”

“I’m allowed to think you’re beautiful,” He was told firmly, Dean ducking to kiss down his neck to his chest, nipping there lightly, licking over one nipple. His hand closed around Cas’s cock and Cas bucked into it with a gasp. “Do you have condoms, Cas? Please tell me you have condoms.”

Blue eyes opened and he looked at Dean, gave him a little smile. “Yes.” Batting Dean’s hand away from his cock gently, he scooted over to reach into the bedside table drawer, pulling out the box of condoms and the tube of lubricant that his father had given him earlier. Then he returned to his place, tugging Dean down on top of himself again and holding the box of condoms up. “My… Father.” He explained embarrassedly, “insisted on giving them to me.”

Dean blinked, taking the box from Cas’s hand—then just grinned down at him. “What, really? I bet that was embarrassing.”

“You have no idea. He tried to give me the Sex Talk. Or at least the Cliff Notes version. When he told me he was going to be away for the weekend. He… assumed. This would happen.” One of Cas’s hands rubbed up and down Dean’s side restlessly. He shrugged. “I guess he was right. He also gave me this,” He held the lube for Dean to see. “Which we are definitely going to need.”

Another blink from Dean and he looked at the lubricant almost blankly. “Uh.”

“It’s different with guys, Dean.” Cas muttered, “you can’t just—I won’t get naturally wet, I—you have to prepare me, or you actually could hurt me.”

“Define ‘prepare’.” Dean said it as a statement, but it was actually a question.

Cas made a soft sound, half frustration and half embarrassment. His eyes skittered away to focus on the stars on the ceiling. “You won’t, um, fit. Unless you stretch me out first. That’s what the lubricant is for. If you don’t do that I—I mean. It’d hurt. A lot. I’d probably bleed. And that’s obviously not what I want from this…” Trailing off a little, he looked back at Dean again. “I’m sorry, we should have had this conversation earlier. It’s probably a turn-off.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, then dropped the box of condoms down on the bed beside them and took the lube from Cas’s hand, adding that to the little pile. “Cas,” He said firmly, “first of all, we’ve already established that the last thing I want to do is hurt you in any way. So, this little talk is necessary. And second?” He grinned and leaned down for a kiss; “we’re currently naked in bed together for the first—and hopefully not last—time. There’s very little that could be a turn-off right now.”

Blue eyes blinked up at Dean in surprise. “Really?”

Another kiss. “Really.” And then a grin and, “you weren’t kidding when you said you did research.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Cas agreed. One hand reached to grab the lube again and he inspected it for a breath before he held it up for Dean to take. “So…?”

Dean chuckled and plucked the lubricant from his fingers. He kissed Cas again—then once more for good measure—before easing back and sitting up. He shuffled his way down the bed a little, then patted at one of Cas’s legs. “I think… if you have your knees up and apart, it’ll work the best.” He let Cas adjust himself accordingly before asking, “how many fingers?”

Cas bit his lip, feeling more than a little exposed at the moment. “Um, start with one. Obviously.” He said, hips shifting awkwardly and only half-hard now, “but the general consensus seems to be at least three. But. In stages.”

“Three.” Dean’s eyes flickered from his hand to between Cas’s legs and he swallowed slightly. “Okay.”

“Just… go slow and use lots of lube. I think.”

“Right.”

It started out awkward, with Dean using probably too much lube and then oh so carefully easing one finger into Cas’s body, slow and steady, then starting to carefully push it in and out of him. Cas swallowed thickly and flung an arm over his eyes, mostly to hide the flaming blush that had overtaken his entire face. Dean kept asking if he was okay and he kept assuring the other boy that he was, of course, it just felt weird.

Adding the second finger changed things. Suddenly there was a stretch and a burn—but a pleasant stretch and burn, one that flared up his spine and made his cock twitch and start to fill out properly again. Cas bit his lip to stifle a little groan—and Dean caught on that immediately, a pleased smirk stretching across his face. He started moving his fingers a little faster and a little deeper.

And then he accidentally brushed against Cas’s prostate for the first time, just slightly.

Cas jolted, and yelped out a shocked cry, his arm flying away from his face and down to grab at the bedcovers.

Dean looked up, eyebrows lifting, and grinned.

“Shut up.” Cas gasped out, even though Dean hadn’t actually said anything. “Don’t stop.”

Of course Dean kept going. Over the course of the next few minutes, he managed to work up to three fingers and reduce Cas to a panting, writhing mess and it was so. Goddamn. Satisfying. He was hard again, now, too, just from watching Cas, his own cock throbbing against his stomach. And he had a pretty good idea of where that spot was inside the other boy, now, he could reliably hit it most times he tried, even if he wasn’t completely sure what it was called.

Finally, Cas arched his back and waved one hand down toward Dean, pulling at the blankets with the other. “D-Dean—that’s enough—oh, God—you’ve got to stop or I’ll—please—!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean pulled his hand back and hurriedly grabbed for the box of condoms, pulling one out and ripping it open, rolling it over his aching dick. Then he settled himself between Cas’s legs—and paused, leaning down to bump their foreheads together. “Last chance to back out.”

But Cas just shook his head and tipped his chin to kiss Dean almost desperately. “No way.”

Dean gave a breathless laugh—and then pushed himself into Cas’s now-pliant body.

Both of them just kind of… stopped, once Dean was fully seated, each taking a deep, shuddering breath because—oh God, it felt so damned good. Then they were moving again, Cas to wrap his legs around Dean’s hips and Dean to start thrusting into the younger boy, hard and deep.

Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas’s neck, panting, and Cas did much the same, pressing messy kisses along Dean’s shoulder in between gasps and moans, his arms around his boyfriend, fingers digging little furrows into the back of Dean’s shoulders.

And Dean was good at this, Cas decided distantly as pleasure thrummed through him, flared up his spine and tingled in his limbs, made his vision go starry—meanwhile Dean was thinking much the same; Cas was fantastic, felt perfect against him, around him, with him.

It didn’t really last long, though, especially with Dean’s pace and Cas’s inexperience. Soon enough, Cas was grabbing harder at Dean’s back, throwing his head back against the pillows and crying out loudly as he came—and Dean followed soon after, his hips jerking out of rhythm a few times before he shoved deep and tensed, coming hard with a low grunt.

Then Dean slumped down over him, and Cas lowered his legs back to the mattress, loosening his grip on the older boy with a breathless little laugh.

“We’re laughing?” Dean asked, just as breathless, muffled into Cas’s shoulder.

“We’re laughing.” Cas confirmed and slid one hand up to thread his fingers through Dean’s sweat damp hair. “I just… wow. That’s all.”

Dean grinned against Cas’s skin and tipped his head to kiss at the crook of his neck. “Yeah.” He agreed, “that sums it up nicely.”

-- --

In the morning, Dean woke up to the sun streaming through the window, soft sheets, a comfortable pillow and the smell of perking coffee. Good perking coffee. Not the shitty motel stuff. It was like waking up in Heaven.

Then came the gentle touches against his back, fingers tracing the edges of his muscles and scars, a palm sliding warmly against his skin. A smile tugged at Dean’s lips, and he murmured something unintelligible before cracking his eyes open finally and rolling over onto his other side to face Cas, Cas’s hand dragging the entire way.

The other boy had his other arm tucked under the pillow, his head resting there, and his eyes were the bluest of blue in the early sunlight. Cas smiled at him with just the faintest edge of shyness—but when Dean leaned forward for a kiss, he returned it unabashedly.

“Cas, you…” The words were whispered like a secret between them, even though there was no one else in the room—or even in the house; “last night was incredible, I’ve never… I mean. I’ve been with people before. Girls. But you were… you are…” Shaking his head, Dean glanced down, almost embarrassed, “you’re amazing.”

“So are you.” Cas’s lips quirked and he admitted, “I saw stars.”

Dean laughed at that, “were you looking at the ceiling?” He teased.

But Cas shook his head, even as Dean was angling for another kiss. “No, it was all you. And before you ask? I don’t regret a thing.”

“You really are beautiful, you know.” Dean murmured against his lips, making Cas laugh softly and kiss him again. “What? I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Cas brought his wandering hand up to cup Dean’s jaw. “But look who’s talking.”

Dean hummed and turned his head to kiss against Cas’s palm. “I guess you can have your opinions.”

“And you yours.” Cas agreed, then smiled again, this time almost shy once more; “I didn’t have nightmares last night, with you here. I…” Glancing down, he murmured softly, “you’re my dreamcatcher, I guess.”

Dean regarded him fondly and tipped his head to kiss against Cas’s forehead. “I’m glad.”

“Stay over every night?” Cas asked, only half-joking.

“I wish.” Dean leaned back and stretched until his back popped, making a satisfied noise afterward. “I haven’t slept that good in ages, either.”

Cas’s little smile widened, and he watched Dean quietly for a moment before reaching out to touch one of Dean’s scars, a small one by his clavicle. “What’s this from?” He asked softly.

“Got shot.” Dean shrugged, “about a year ago. It doesn’t hurt anymore or anything.”

“Who shot you?”

“Someone bad. Doesn’t really matter. I survived, that’s the important thing.”

Cas considered that for a moment before deciding to just accept it for what it was. Dean obviously didn’t really want to talk about it. So, he just changed the topic: “I woke up before you, so I made coffee. Do you want some?”

Dean perked considerably at that. “Oooooh yes, black as a moonless night!”

Cas snorted a laugh and shoved at Dean’s shoulder but climbed out of bed regardless. He was already dressed-ish from his foray down to the kitchen to get the coffee going, just a pair of boxers and—

“Hey, is that my shirt?” Dean pushed up on his elbows, regarding Cas with surprise.

The younger boy shrugged with one shoulder. He looked down at the AC/DC shirt he was wearing blandly. “I couldn’t find mine in the mess we made last night, so I borrowed it. You can have it back later. Why is your shirt about batteries, anyway?”

“Batteries?!” Dean sputtered, but before he could get any farther than that, Cas had already disappeared out the door, heading downstairs for coffee. He padded around barefoot, pouring two mugs of the stuff (an expensive brand his Father insisted on keeping in the house) and then doctoring his own with cream and sugar, though he left Dean’s black as requested.

Then he turned the coffee pot off and carefully made his way back up to the bedroom, where Dean had finished having his fit over the shirt, and bumped the door closed with his hip when he entered, crossing over and handing Dean his mug before gingerly climbing back into the bed with his own.

Dean obviously thoroughly enjoyed his first sip, which made Cas smile around the lip of his mug. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You have no idea the kind of crap I’m forced to drink on the road, Cas. No idea.” The older boy took another drink, humming out a happy noise, then paused, green eyes flicking up to Cas again, “so. You did the… research, right?” He asked, “that… spot. Inside you. That made you… jerk and moan the way you did…”

“My prostate,” Cas murmured around the lip of his mug, “or at least I’m pretty sure, anyway.”

“What does it… feel like?”

Oh, God, how was he even supposed to explain this? Cas swallowed slightly and busied himself taking another couple drinks from his coffee, hedging for time. “It feels…” He trailed off before trying again; “it’s like electric pleasure, shooting up my spine. Like you’re touching some livewire inside me and—God, Dean, it feels—” Breaking off, he shook his head and managed, “it’s so hard to explain. I’ve never felt anything like it. It feels so good. So good it almost hurts.”

Dean was watching him, obviously fascinated, but a little surprised as well. “That good? Really?”

“Yes, I…” Cas nodded, eyes on his coffee now, “when I was looking things up online, it all said it would feel good, but I was not prepared for... I mean. Just. Wow. And you are really good at finding it.”

Dean gave him a little, self-satisfied smirk. “Natural talent?” He suggested.

Cas laughed softly, sipping at his coffee for another moment before asking, “hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

He hummed softly and lifted his gaze to look at Dean intently. “I think we should have sex again.” He informed his boyfriend, before continuing; “for science. To make sure it’s still as good as it was last night.”

Dean nearly choked on his coffee, sputtering a little. “Yeah,” He croaked finally, “we could do that, definitely.”

Cas muffled another small laugh and offered, “I think it turns out I’m ‘just another horny teenage boy’, too, especially now that I know what it’s like. I feel like my Father would be disappointed in me.”

But Dean was already setting his half-empty mug of coffee on the side table and reaching to take Cas’s cup from his hands to set it out of the way as well. “Pretty sure he’s aware you’re a teenage boy,” He informed Cas. “Now, c’mere.”

Dean didn’t get back to Sam and the motel until after dinner time. Sam would probably never let him live it down.

[algolagniaa]

actually fuck it I’m posting it anyway. who gives af about a tumblr reputation

a couple years ago I was very deeply in love with somebody. like the strongest feelings I’d had for anyone since my relationship with my ex fiancé ended. and I talk a big game about not giving af about anyone but the reality is when I care about someone I REALLY care about them, like I am EXTREMELY all or nothing about it as Jess could tell you lol. and I was not quite recovered from being not only cheated on but also told (well I read it in Levi’s diary but same difference) that they’d never really loved me or been attracted to me at all and only got with me bc they didn’t think they could do better basically. so basically I was very emotionally fragile at this time and the fact that I had opened my heart enough to love again was a pretty big deal

and this person knew how much I cared about her. and one night she got really drunk and confessed her love to me in a big grand gesture that lasted literally an hour. and talked about how wonderful and beautiful and smart and kind I was, and how she wanted to marry me and have a big wedding so everyone could see how beautiful I was, and how she loved me so much and the reason she did xyz things was all to impress me but she couldn’t believe that I could also love her. and also she told me she shouldn’t be telling me any of this because she was going to take it back the minute she was sober, not because it wasn’t true but because she knew it wouldn’t work out between us so she was going to deny it all in the morning. and the reason it wasn’t going to work out between us was because her parents didn’t approve (did I mention she was a trust fund baby) and also because I don’t wax my eyebrows and that’s a dealbreaker bc my natural eyebrows make me look ugly. but she was also basically begging me to say that I also thought we were just like a fairytale and it was this big overwhelming thing and then in the morning she said she’d lied because she was trying to drink herself to death and it would’ve made a good story.

and it WOULD have made a good story if I had stopped talking to her on the spot. only I didn’t. because I wanted to believe that everything she had said was true. she did say she was going to deny it after all. and by the time I figured out it definitely wasn’t true - well at that point she and I were really close and she’d done a lot to show she was sincerely sorry for what she’d done and I still kept her around. and I just tried to push down how shitty and unlovable she’d made me feel. because after Levi I hadn’t felt like anyone could love me. and then somebody did, and it was that. and we spent years in the most fucked up situationship of all time that eventually became an admittedly pretty good platonic friendship but I never fully got over it and am only really processing it now after she did some new fucked up shit to me.

and I’m in a relationship now with the best kindest most wonderful woman of all time who makes it clear every day how special I am to her. and I’ve also had poetry written about me and artistic nudes done of me without me like specifically posing for it or anything like I’m obviously not some undesirable wench. but I feel like one constantly. when I’m with Jess I don’t feel like that but when we’re apart I start wondering how long it’s really going to last. I read tumblr posts about being a femcel loser virgin or whatever and I think “oh that’s me” even when my pussy is actively sore from having sex. like. it’s insane. but between her and Levi I spent p much my entire 20s in that mindset when I really didn’t have to. and it’s really fucked up. and I don’t mean to make myself sound like an innocent victim because I have continued to choose the circumstances that make me feel like this, but also it’s really fucked up that someone made me feel this way because I don’t and shouldn’t have to. and I don’t know how I’m going to get over it like I actually don’t know how to rebuild my self esteem from here.

also - the girl I’m talking about reads my tumblr and will definitely read this. and I’m not even going to bother hiding it from her tbh 🤷🏻‍♀️ kind of hope the guilt keeps her awake at night

[wanderer-on-the-steppe]

Songs about the Khmelnytsky uprising, part 1:

I’ve been asked for more music about the Khmelnytsky uprising (the first song I posted – by Хорея Козацька, based on a poem by Hryhorii Skovoroda – can be found here), so I thought I’d do some blog posts on the songs I know. Starting with a classic that, for me, is both fascinating and thoroughly frustrating: the song about Khmelnytsky and Barabash (Дума про Хмельницького і Барабаша).

It’s fascinating because it recounts the famous episode of Khmelnytsky tricking Ivan Barabash into getting drunk at his house and in the meantime sending a servant for stealing the king’s letters from Barabash’s own house – and damn, I wish we’d get to see this in the “Ogniem i mieczem” movie. I know well that it doesn’t fit in there as far as the course of the plot is concerned... but I’d love to see it anyway. Because it has Khmelnytsky being clever and cunning, and Bohdan Stupka would have done wonders with a scene like this.

And here we have a historical song that tells exactly this episode in a style that’s just made for a performer with some acting skills – and on top of it, Bohun gets mentioned.

That’s the good part.

The scary part: In the song Khmelnytsky doesn’t only trick Barabash, but also kills him (admittedly after Barabash wanted to hand him over to his enemies, so... considering what that would have meant, it’s really not surprising) and sends his wife and children into slavery. And if I understand it correctly, there's absolutely nothing that indicates this last deed was considered unworthy of the protagonist in any way.

Thankfully, as the real Barabash is supposed to have been killed by his own rebelling Cossacks, there’s some hope that the fate of his family here is simply a literary invention. But it could have happened, and it just says a lot about the hate and bitterness that accompanied the rebellion if a detail like this could have been thought to make the story better.

Now, the frustrating part? Even though the song is well-known enough that I could find material for school lessons about it, it rarely seems to get performed anymore. And if it does, there either isn’t a decent recording of it, or… I simply haven’t found it so far ;)

What I have found is a fragment of it in an operatic interpretation – and if you want it, simply adding “mp3” to your google search for "Дума про Хмельницького і Барабаша" will make it show up in your first results, but please be aware that I cannot assess the safety of these sites. I’ve played the file online (though I didn’t download it), and so far, my computer seems alive and well, but… that’s really all I can say about it.

There’s also a more traditional interpretation by Nazar Bozhynsky (Назар Божинський), recorded in a town square – and this is on Youtube, and the link is fine –, but (did I mention the situation with this song is frustrating?) there’s a voice from a loudspeaker at a blaring volume chattering throughout the whole performance. Which, at least to me, renders the song completely unintelligible even with the lyrics at hand. Honestly… if this had been during the hetman’s lifetime, it would have ended badly for that loudspeaker ;)

So, all I have to offer is a spoken version. I promise, the next post in this series will have some actual music not drowned out by announcements!

[To avoid misunderstandings that can probably easily happen with as controversial a historical topic as the Khmelnytsky uprising: Despite my Ogniem i mieczem-related enthusiasm for the movie character Khmelnytsky (played by Bohdan Stupka), I am aware of the horrors that happened during the real uprising, and I’m posting these songs for their historical interest only – not to glorify a brutal war, and certainly not to mock its victims.]

[broken-clover]

ky whump anon: i was thinking strive era, but this was before the reveal that our catboy got woobiefied. so, morally gray asuka who while is cordial about sol’s allies/friends, he’s more heavy handed with them versus sol now. something about figuring out how the scales of juno can threaten his plans—so ky’s captured or something, for a just general lab/medical whump set up? asuka might be professional and not out to cause pain, but he’s not taking no for an answer lmk if you receive this ask and it didn’t get munched.

While it took me a while to flesh this one out, I finally come bearing words! Thank you kindly for your patience, anon, I hope the wait was worth it. Admittedly, I am not entirely finished, but I have at least completed the first two chapters in full, the first of which I'll post here. Asuka was a lot of fun to write! I liked trying to balance his well intentions and slight callousness from prior games.

As far as I can tell, currently this should be around 6-7 chapters long, possibly subject to change depending on how long things get, I'm going to see how it goes!

-

The treatments were not working. For all their initial confidence, King Ky only seemed to wither further and further by day.

The culprit was an obvious one, the ever-spreading blue-black veins that lit up his skin yet seemed to suck in all light nearby. A telltale sign of Gear cells running rampant in an infectee’s body, gradually tainting more and more human flesh. Still an irreversible condition after the crusades, only hardly slowed with even the most top-notch of magics and medicines

(His Majesty looked at the royal physicians with dismay and annoyance whenever they used words like ‘infect’ and ‘tainted.’ They were passed over in conversation, but remained unaltered in his medical files)

Ever since the debut of Dizzy to Illyria’s public, rumors had already run rampant among the various tabloids and salon gossip, but the idea that their beloved First King was something inhuman was one that stayed confined to the level of absurd housewife chatter, at least to the average citizen. King Ky, a Gear? Utter nonsense, how much have you drunk today? But it was true, every word. One of the biggest scandals in political history, obfuscated by its own absurdity.

It was for the best, really. Things could carry on as they normally did, with nobody the wiser of their own monarch’s rapidly-declining state.

Ky was not a man who took days off, nor one that would burden others with his own suffering. He hadn’t been. Now, after every daily speech was done, every necessary meeting dealt with, he hobbled down to the castle’s medical wing to fall into the arms of his personal caretakers, weakly whimpering for something, anything to ease the pain. They replied with syringes of painkillers and anticonvulsants, a line of fluids in one wrist, and soft, meaningless reassurances of his own strength and ability to weather it all. The only option available was palliative care, doing all they could to ease the symptoms of a disease that they could not cure.

“He shouldn’t be going out at all anymore. The strain only worsens the symptoms further.”

“I h-have to. I have to-” While some may have seen the king’s frail state as pathetic, the pained, warbling timbre in his voice was enough to find sympathy in the hardest of hearts.

“Don’t force yourself to speak.” One of the physicians stroked his face in a way that should have earned a scolding from his co-workers, but none of them could think of many better ideas to comfort him. “Give the medication a minute to take effect, it will be easier to talk if you need to.”

More often than not, by the time the medication kicked in, Ky was already half-conscious, unwilling- or incapable- to force himself awake and to power through. It left the staff to talk over his unresponsive body while they attended to him, distinctly more uneasy now that he wasn’t aware enough to notice it.

“There are no Gear specialists that we know to call. Even if we did, reaching out to them could prove disastrous. We have to keep this knowledge in a very close circle. We can’t risk anything.”

“And if our paranoia ends up killing him?” One asked, with a pointed glare.

Another stepped between the two, hands raised. “Fighting won’t do any good. Focus more on solutions, not more problems.”

“What solutions could there be that we haven’t already tried?” Asked another. “Transfusions, folk cures, exorcisms, we’ve done everything shy of amputating his arm and flaying half of his face!”

“There must be something, we just haven’t found it yet.”

“Come to the west entrance.”

“I’m certain there’s a test we-” The speaker paused. “Which one of you said that?”

They turned to one another, muttering.

“Come to the west entrance. I wish to speak with you.”

“Do you hear something?” The voice had not come from any of their mouths.

“I…I thought I was hallucinating. I thought the stress had finally gotten to me, do you all hear it too?”

“Yes. I am speaking to all of you. Come to the west entrance. It is better if we speak in person.”

“Telepathy.” One of them noted. “That’s…that’s not a magic many people are capable of.”

“I only know a couple of them. No offense to any of you, but I doubt you have that level of aptitude.”

Someone shook their head. “The only one offhand that I can think of would be…oh. Oh, no.”

“You mean…him?

“I don’t think any of us want to.” He replied.

“But it sounds like he’s already here."

++++++

With an epithet as vague as ‘That Man,’ perhaps it was only natural that rumors sprung up like weeds about what he was and what he did. Was he even a man? Was he even human?

He certainly cut an imposing figure. Though not particularly large, even by human standards, That Man radiated an intimidating, unsettling aura that none of them could fully explain. He hovered several feet off of the ground, arms spread and robes billowing like some twisted parody of the messiah. A chill unease passed over them.

“Your eyes…” His voice was soft, but snaked into their ears without issue. “I take it you’re familiar with me, then?”

“Everyone is.” One of the bolder among them managed to speak. “I daresay there’s few alive that don’t.”

“I see.” Not a judgment, not a refutation. Just a statement of fact.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He replied. “There was an abnormal reading coming from this area, I sought to investigate.”

Someone scoffed.“You were stalking us then, I presume?”

“No such thing. I measure frequencies worldwide to ensure there are no concerns. If an issue is deemed important enough, I set out to intervene and fix it. I watch mankind to ensure everyone’s safety.”

The doctor glowered. “You are not God.”

“No. Nor do I claim to be.” Slowly, That Man shook his head. “If you must, then view me as a repentant devil. I do not ask for your praise. I do not even ask for your forgiveness. All I ask is for your cooperation, and even then, it will be a brief one.”

“And why, knowing that, would we willingly aid a self-professed demon?”

The hood shifted. Though the face was still hidden from view, he knew he was being stared at.

“Tell me, many of you are religious, are you not?”

“That’s correct.”

“Excellent. Are you familiar with the tale of Meridiana?”

He tilted his head. “The star?”

“The succubus.” That Man said. “Just a story, of course, but in the 12th-century work ’De nugis curialium,’ the author claimed the era’s Pope, Sylvester II, was aided and advised by a demon called Meridiana. It was claimed that she was the true source behind his power and wisdom.”

Someone asked, “What of it?”

“Pope Sylvester II was known for his endorsement of intellectual pursuits. He encouraged the study of mathematics and astronomy. Why would a succubus allow him to do so? Had that knowledge come from her in the first place?”

Another replied “Well, it’s just a story. I imagine it was meant to be satirical.”

“Oh, of course it was. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make.” The mage shook his head. “But I suppose we’ve wasted enough time already. I am here because I am the only one who can help you.”

“With what, exactly?”

“Don’t insult me with a question like that.” He replied. “You and I both know full well what brings me here. I wish to speak with your king.”

The group suddenly turned defensive. “He cannot speak with you right now.”

“I know,” That Man replied, nodding again. “I meant that moreso in the sense of formality. Likewise, I am going to see your king, whether you approve of my presence or not.”

“We can deny you audience.”

“Certainly you could. But, as I said, I do not care about your approval.”

“We can bar the doors and remove you from the premises.”

“No. You can’t.” Despite his words, the tone came off not as threatening, but as little more than lightly scolding a child. “I will say this once, if I truly believed you were any kind of real difficulty to handle, I would not so much as let myself be seen. Again, I am acting merely in the way formality deems appropriate. This is a matter of personal intrigue to me, and I do not care about your petty objections, well-meaning or not. Open the doors and bring me to your king, or I will do so on my own.”

“W-we…I…”

As committed as they were to their duties, none of them were deluded enough to genuinely believe they stood a chance against the fabled Gear Maker. With tension thick enough to cut through, the group stood just close enough to That Man in order to guide him into the castle. He was brought through the maze of corridors until they ended in the sterile monochrome of the medical ward.

That Man never slowed, never flinched, never even turned his head beneath the hood. Ky was in the same place that he had been left, flopped over on a cot with his eyes blurry and unfocused. Whether or not the painkillers were working was of no consequence, he looked too delirious to notice the difference.

Though several of them squirmed as the world’s most well-known criminal approached their monarch’s bedside, the best they could manage was halfhearted fumbling. That Man brushed a few locks of hair out of Ky’s face in order to get a better look.

“What information do you have?”

It took the staff several moments to realize that he was speaking to them, not to the unconscious Ky. “Nothing. Pretty much nothing. The pain comes and goes, it’s exacerbated by work, but that’s expected. The fevers come randomly. More recently, he’s been eating poorly. The nausea and vomiting come as arbitrarily as most of his symptoms do.”

“We keep testing for different problems, but nothing concrete so far.” Another said. “Or, perhaps, it’s entirely common, and we don’t know enough about Gear cells to make that call. I don’t suppose it’s the simple Gear equivalent of the flu, is it?”

“That's an idiotic question. Do you think I would come out here for something like that?”

“R-right. Erm. Forgive me.

“...Do you want me to save your king’s life?”

That immediately got everyone’s attention. “Of course- of course we do!”

The Gear Maker turned to face them. “Then I need you to promise me something in exchange: nobody is allowed to know about this. Not even the king himself. Never speak a word of this after we leave this room today, not to anyone. Today was an ordinary day. Nothing of any interest occurred.”

“‘Today?’ You can cure him today?”

“I never said that.”

They bit back a shout as That Man suddenly scooped Ky right from his bed. Several of them instinctively summoned weapons or reached for any nearby supplies that could be used as one, but the thought sank in quickly that there was nothing they could do that wouldn’t hurt their king. That was, if any of them could even land a scratch on the Gear Maker.

“W-what are you doing?!”

That Man hoisted the unconscious body in his arms and looked down. “I will take him. I will treat him. I cannot guarantee he will be cured, but I can still ease the pain.”

He vanished into a magic glyph. The medics were overcome with a sinking feeling of whether or not they had made the right decision. Now, they supposed, they couldn’t do anything to change it. All they could do was hope that they hadn't made a terrible mistake.