#and she might do something really dangerous

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Truth or Dare

Jinx x F! Reader

Warning: NSFW Minor DNI, Smoking, Freaky deaky stuff, Truth or Dare

Summary: You and Jinx are having a sleepover while there has been tension building between you both with friendly game of Truth or Dare.

Author note: This was heavily proofread so I hope you all enjoy ⭐️ #RunningoffofRedbulls

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Can you Roll?” You asked Jinx, showing her the bag of “goodies” you received from Ekko.

“Yea, I can. Just go to my desk and grab my kit,” She tells you. You and Jinx planned to have a sleepover over at Jinx’s place. It’s turned into a normal routine between the two of you since Jinx enjoys your presence and vice versa. Isha is over at Sevika’s for the night so you and Jinx have the place to themselves - after a while of not having one on one time.

As you are searching Jinx’s desk, you couldn’t find her kit, which had you checking inside each of her drawers. In the second drawer, you open you find something quite… interesting.

“Jinx, can you come over here,” You choke out. Jinx walks over and find you looking at her blue and black strap designed with light blue accents. “Shit, I should’ve told you my kit’s in the third drawer,” She chuckled at your embarrassed expression.

Jinx moves over your body and opens the third drawer open where she pulls out her metal kit that has her rolling paper and tray, a lighter, and a grinder. “Is everything okay toots?” She whispers in your ear, moving her hand to your waist as she rest her head on your shoulder. Your breath hitches from her cold hands, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just never knew you owned one of those,” You manage to get out, “So spill. Who is it for?”

Jinx moves from behind you sliding her kit in her hand as she hums, “Dunno. Just decided to have it, that’s it. Or it might be for someone who commissioned me. You think I’m some pervert?” She then raises her eyebrow, “…or do you want me to test it out on you?” She says in a teasing tone.

You quickly respond, “Hmm I don’t know, what if you had Violet test it with Caitlyn?” The air between you two goes dead silent for a beat, and Jinx’s face twitches slightly—caught off guard by your complete lack of awareness.

Her grin falls as she processes what you just said, and then, with a laugh that feels more like a snort, she opens her rolling kit while in mock exasperation. "Oh, sweetie," she says, her voice dripping with playful amusement, "I was totally not talking about that." She gives you a sideways glance, her smile returning, but now there’s a glimmer of something more devilish in her eyes.

You stare at her, blinking in confusion, and she can’t help but laugh again.

“Alright, alright, God you are so innocent when you wanna be,” she finally says. She starts rolling the blunt shaking her head. “I’ll just… leave it to your wild imagination.”

You change the conversation and make plans about later with Jinx until she finishes rolling the blunt and glances up at you, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "All done," she says, holding the freshly rolled blunt up between her fingers. “You can have the first hit since you rolled it,” You say, with a dismissive hand gesture.

Without missing a beat, Jinx pops the blunt into her mouth, pulls out her lighter, and with a flick she ignites the end. She takes a long drag, her chest rising as she inhales deeply, savoring the taste. After a moment, she exhales a thick plume of smoke and then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"Come over here, toots," she says, her voice low.

You blink, not thinking twice, and crawl over to where Jinx is lounging on the couch. Your movements are casual, but to Jinx, they feel like slow, deliberate torture. She watches you with narrowed eyes, a spark of something dangerous flickering in her gaze. “How does she not know?” Jinx thinks to herself, a sense of confusion in her chest. She's been around you enough to know how comfortable you are with her—how you’ve never judged her, always accepting her for who she really is.

Bur despite all that, Jinx finds herself fighting the urge to close the distance between you two in a way that goes beyond friendly banter. You don’t even realize how you drive her mad. “How can she be so oblivious?” she thinks with a mix of frustration and desire. She’s always been protective of you, but it goes beyond just friendship. She’d never admit it out loud, but the way you look at her—so trusting, so pure. You’re so precious to her, and the idea of anyone harming you—of anyone taking advantage of that innocence— she would destroy anyone who dared hurt you, without a second thought.

Jinx’s chest tightens as she watches you settle closer to her, unaware of the storm swirling inside her. You’ve shown her kindness when others only saw her chaos, and she wants to keep you safe from all the bad people in the world who would take advantage of your trusting nature. She wishes she could protect you from everything, from all the hurt and heartbreak that life could throw your way. And, deep down, she knows she’d do whatever it takes to keep you from ever feeling that pain.

Jinx breaks out of her thoughts when she hears you whining looking up at her, “Jinx, can I take a hit?” Your lips are so pouty and cheeks are so flushed, Jinx just wants to have fun with you a bit. “Hmm, I don’t know if I want to share.”

You furrow your eyebrows, hopping in her lap and straddling her thigh— you bury your face into her shoulder and cry into her. “I was the one who got these. You’re so unfair,” You protest as Jinx takes another puff, exhaling softly. “I’m not sure you deserve it… convince me.”

You look down and grip her shoulders slowly bouncing on her thigh, “Please Jinx, I will make it up to you and we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night,” Your voice dips slightly, and though you might not realize it, the quiet sincerity behind your words only adds to the tension between you two. Jinx feels her pulse quicken, but she hides it behind a playful smirk. “Okay fine, here.” She pops the blunt into your mouth and you take a hit, blowing out a big ball of smoke. You hug Jinx, saying happily, “Thank youuu!”

Time passes and you both of y’all take hits off the blunt until it was all gone. Afterwards, you both decided to take your showers and put on your pajamas. Jinx has on a white tank top with her Cookie Monster pajama pants, while you had on a baby pink and black nightgown that cupped your soft breast as it fell to your upper thigh.

Jinx is sitting on the couch, her eyes following you as you move around the room. The moment you step into view, she takes her time looking you up and down. Her gaze lingers longer than usual, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hmm, cute," she murmurs, her voice low, but playful. She walks over to you and gently cups your chin in her hand, her touch soft but sending a spark of electricity through you. There’s a shift in the air, and Jinx seems to sense it, her eyes darkening slightly as her fingers traces your jaw.

She giggles, teasing, "So," she starts, her voice low, “what was that promise you were going to make up to me?” Her eyebrow raises, her playful tone mixing with something more calculating as she takes a small step closer.

You, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, smile brightly, hopping up in excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” You rush to the kitchen, “I got your favorite!” you call out over your shoulder, grabbing the tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and rushing back to the counter. You grab the toppings from your bag — whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a jar of cherries. You're not aware of how Jinx's eyes never leaving you as you move.

You assemble the perfect bowl—two scoops of vanilla ice cream, topped with a mountain of whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top. You carry the bowl to the couch, setting it down between you both. You hand Jinx a spoon, smiling brightly. “Here, hope you enjoy!”

Jinx takes the spoon, and as she digs into the ice cream, she savors the flavor slowly, clearly enjoying it more than she lets on. She nods approvingly, but there’s a certain glint in her eyes that you don’t pick up on. “This is so delicious, sweetness,” she chirps, her voice teasing but also carrying a note of something else. You don’t notice the way she says sweetness, how the word rolls off her tongue, hinting at something deeper.

As you both continue eating, the ice cream quickly disappearing, Jinx suddenly breaks the silence. Her voice drops a little, but it’s still playful. “Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, her words laced with a subtle tension that you completely miss.

You hum in response, turning to her with a smile. “Sure, what are we playing?”

Jinx scoots closer, her body language shifting. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Truth or Dare.” Her voice is thick with mischief, but your brain processes it as nothing more than the next fun game for the night. You blink, tilting your head, completely unaware of the weight behind her words. “Oh, okay! Sounds fun,” you say, your tone bright and excited.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

At first, the game seemed harmless—questions like “Tell an embarrassing story,” “Have you ever broken a law?”, and “Send a random person a crazy text.” But as the night wore on, the questions grew more personal, more daring. “What’s your non-sexual turn on?” “Give me a hickey”, “Show me your favorite sex position.”

Now here you are on top of Jinx, and your head’s dizzy. Your whole body is feeling hot as you’re whining in Jinx’s lap. Jinx is groaning under you, her hand traveling up and gripping your hip to move your body against her clothed crotch. She rasps in your ear, “I would’ve never knew someone this innocent would do this with other girls... you dirty girl.” She quickly travels her hand under your nightgown to your ass, giving it a light smack and making you silently squeal into her chest. “How many girls had you do this to them? Huh? I bet there are many people that want a piece of you. You’re so cute, so innocent, ‘m almost sure I can make you do whatever I want because deep down you will chase that pleasure like a needy slut.”

You cry into Jinx’s shoulder gripping onto her blue locks for dear life, grinding your body harder and faster against Jinx. You look up to Jinx, cupping her face, looking deep into her eyes. Both of your lips are inches apart from each other. Before you can kiss her, Jinx puts her pink fingernail against your plump lips, “Nuh-uh toots.. your time is up.” She pats the side of your thigh signaling you to get off. You move off of Jinx, crawling back to your spot across from her while Jinx flashes a look at your ass. You sit in your spot looking down, while your hands trap between your legs to lessen the dull hum you’re feeling between your thighs.

“Dare,” Jinx practically purrs, giving you a devilish smile. You meekly ask, “Kiss me.”Jinx moves over to you, holding your chin in her hand as she caresses your soft skin. Her thumb toys with your bottom lip, slowly moving her lips to yours teasingly. “Please Jinx…” You whine softly, and Jinx closes the gap between you both, giving you a sweet but hungry kiss. You moan softly into the kiss. You needed her so bad.

Jinx pushes you back on the couch, needing to feel more of you as her mouth travels down your neck, creating more marks along with the ones she decorated your neck with before. Suddenly, she stops and moves back to her spot. Flashing you a sickly sweet grin, she looks at you. “So, what’ll it be, Truth or Dare?” At this point, you were so desperate and wanted to feel her more. You didn’t even think about what possible outcome could come out— “Dare,” You answered, absolutely certain with your choice.

“Grab the whipped cream from the fridge and hand it to me.” You scurried over to the fridge, grabbing the whipped cream… you had no clue what she was planning in that head of hers. That was one thing about Jinx, you never knew her next move. You walk over to her, waiting for what scheme she had planned. “Take off your nightgown but keep your panties on,” she demands. You slide the thin straps of the shoulder of your nightgown, it falling to the floor. The cold air hits your skin and as you stand in front of her, you can’t help but feel vulnerable especially since you’re almost nude while she is still fully clothed. Jinx guides you to lay down back flat on the cushion of the couch. “W-What are you going to do?” You manage to choke out. Jinx hums, looking down at your body, “Oh, you’ll see.” She darkly chuckles against you.

Jinx puts the nozzle of the whipped cream against your nipples, making you shudder from the cold hard plastic against your sensitive chest. She presses down and the white cream spreads on your breasts. You whine from the new sensation as the sweet treat is making a mess on your chest, down the valley between your breasts and onto your stomach. Once she finishes her masterpiece, she takes a minute to take It in… you looked so delicious she had to take a mental photograph to refer back to. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Can’t even believe I’m seeing this right now,” She giggles and dips her head down to your chest and starts attacking your nipple, taking it into her mouth. You shriek from the feeling of her tongue and her sucking hard on your poor chest. “J-Jinx please be gentl- ah!” You cry out loudly. Jinx completely ignores your request, going to the other side giving the same treatment. Her free hand grips your chest, teasing and pinching your nipple.

You feel your bottom half of your body tingle and you didn’t know what to do. All you can do is babble and moan from her mouth latching onto your over-sensitive chest. Once Jinx is finished with you, she lifts you up and all you both can do is giggle. “Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” She teases you. Your head is so hazy from the pleasure. To tease her back, you pick up her sticky hand and put her middle and ring finger in your mouth, sucking the lingering whipped cream off. All Jinx could do was just look at you hungrily as she spreads her slender fingers in your mouth, as your tongue is dancing between them, slightly gagging on her digits. You take your mouth off her fingers as a string of saliva comes off her fingers and onto your chin.

You sigh softly, looking into her eyes with nothing but desire. Jinx then takes a deep breath, “You know what… fuck it.” That’s all she says. She grips your hand and drags you into her room, closing the door for whatever the night has in store. You both knew for sure, you both will take your time with each other.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Part 2 coming soon !! Hope you enjoyed

- Angel 💋

[strawberryforks]

slipping smiles//tim bradford x reader

reckless smiles adjacent (call fic)

warnings: you could have died, swearing, animal-in-danger, no beta we die like my sleep schedule

a/n: writing calls is surprisingly fun! SORRY for the (definite) inconsistencies. asks are open! dedicated to @scenesofobx because your comments have made my day <33 enjoy!

You’re dressed in a cute little workout outfit. Leggings, a cropped skintight long sleeve top with thumb-holes, overtop of that a gray sweater, and over that, a puffer vest that you leave open because it’s not as cold as you thought it would be. The vest you realize, might be a little extra, but you’re already committed now, halfway to your favourite taco truck. It’s your day off and since you can’t just do nothing, you’ve decided to go on a jog. It’s around lunchtime (you’re headed to get yours) and you pick this time purposely—you’re a cop, you’ve seen a lot. Enough that you don’t go running when it’s dark out and when there aren’t other people around—12PM ensures witnesses and sunlight and since you’re jogging on a sidewalk in the suburbs; in a relatively wealthy neighborhood, you don’t expect anything to happen. You run this route often and know that in a little bit, you’ll run across a bridge, that the small lake running underneath will be frost kissed, reflecting sun back at you. You know you might stop to take a picture—what you don’t know is that the group you’re nearing, jogging towards, are buying.

Up ahead, a man with a hood pulled down, obscuring his face passes a brick—not a baggy, a brick—of something into the hands of another man, this one wearing a ball cap and baggy jeans, sans face covering. You reach for your off-duty weapon and the badge you keep tucked into your wallet. “LAPD, hands in the air!”

Because nothing is easy and karma is against you, all hell breaks loose. Two of the guys pull out their guns, one shoots bullet after bullet in quick succession—you dive out of the way, ducking behind a grey civic that acts as a shield, absorbing bullets so you don’t have to. The other two start running and dammit, those ones are the guys who brought the drugs. The ones you really need in custody. You dial 911 and give your general address, you give your name and badge number, “10-57, requesting backup,” then you hangup. You call Chen—knowing she should be patrolling in the area; that she usually does, at least. “Hey! Pursuing armed suspects or about to… would love some help. Drug deal gone—“ and then you hear dispatch regurgitating your earlier words, hear her TO accept the call and then you’re shooting back, running behind other cars paralell parked on the sides of the road, using them as cover, and darting after the two escaping. A bullet whizzes past your side—you turn and bury one in the shooters shoulder. The other man, you shoot in the hand, causing his gun to go flying. Then you’re sprinting after the two. Distantly you hear sirens. Up ahead, alongside the criminals, is a scraggly looking stray. A cop car skids to a halt on the other side of the men, Chen and Bishop jumping out, guns raised. The criminals are now paused atop the bridge, looking at you like they’re planning to go through you, like it's the easier option now that the cavalry has arrived. You approach, another car sliding behind you. This one, Tim Bradford climbs out of, looking like the soldier he was—dangerous, determined. “It’s over! Interlace your hands behind your head!” you shout. The two men, both shot by you, are already stuffed into the backseat of a shop, headed for hospital before they’re to be booked.

The criminals are outnumbered and outgunned. They raise their hands slowly, fingers splaying, guns clattering to the ground and you approach, wrenching brick-boy’s hands behind his back, your own outstretched, waiting for a pair of cuffs to be thrown into them. Tim passes you a pair and you shove the restrained criminal towards your TO, past the cowering stray who the asshole swipes his foot at. The criminal kicks the dog who yelps and is knocked under the guardrail. You shove him harder then, forcing him to his knees in front of officer Bradford as you throw yourself at the fence, peering over where you see water. The dog fell through the thin layer of ice. You see him paddle up once, twice, and then he dips under again. Comeon, comeoncomeoncomeon, you plead. He doesn’t surface. Tim Bradford’s the last person you look at, the one who reaches for you as you vault over the guardrail and take the plunge yourself.

The water is cold. So cold that it seems to slow time down. Everything takes an extra minute, everything slowed as your eyes shoot open, blinking to adjust to the feeling of wetness against them. Underwater, you paddle, spinning around, looking for the dog. You see him, his little legs are frantic, pawing against the water. Still holding your breath, cheeks puffed up, full of air you’re losing faster than you’d like, you make large strides and close the distance between you and the pup. With the dog in your arms you try to surface. A layer of cold glass stops you. You bang your fist against it—breakbreakbreak. Weighed down by panic you climb along the underneath, looking for the crater you fell through. You claw your way to the hole in the ice and the dog surfaces before you do because you stick your hands out, up in the air, and pump your legs as quickly as you can. Your head breaches the water and you grab the ledge of the ice, wincing, terrified, when it gives way, only widening the break in the ice. You push the dog up onto the ice—the solid kind, and watch as it coughs up the cold water you’re still in. The cold water that’s feeling less cold. It's not the water, you know, it’s just you feeling less. Your feet are numb, your hands too. People are shouting but it still feels like you’re underwater. Still feels like something’s blocking your ears. Vaguely, as you attempt to pull yourself onto the ice you see flashing lights. Cop ones, ones from LAFD vehicles, too. There’s an ambulance here—as much for you as the men you shot, if only you could make it to them. If only. You’re getting tired. Sounds blur together, sensations, and colours too. You’re cocooned in a haze, a fog that just keeps getting thicker and thicker. A voice breaks it.

“Boot!” snaps Bradford. He’s closer than the others, you think. “Look at me,” he demands. You do, of course you do. He’s lying on the ice, body weight dispersed over a larger part of it so nothing shatters and he’s reaching out for you. There’s a few blurs behind him, firefighters, you think, telling—yelling at him, but all you can focus on is the words he’s saying. “Focus!”

You do your best.

“I need you to grab my arm. I’ll pull you up,” his hand is reaching towards your own and even though you can place your fingers—can’t feel them, you watch them carefully, making sure you direct your hand into his. Then, Tim pulls you from the water, sliding you along beside him and shifting so you’re between his legs, his forearms wrapped around your chest, holding you tightly. You’re shaking—still are, as two LAFD members drag Tim backwards to the bank, you with him. They take you from him and you didn’t fight his hold but you squirm in theirs, remembering the reason you took the ice-bath in the first place: the dog. “They’re going to help you,” Tim says, “you need to get warmed up.”

Your teeth clash with each other brutally in agreeance but you shake your head. “The d-dog. I-I have to get him, make sure he’s okay.”

Tim shakes his head incredulously. You don’t budge, insistent as ever and finally he relents. “I’ll get the damn dog. You, get warmed up. Listen to them.”

The dog would be okay, Tim would make sure of it—he’d take it to the vet himself, pay the bills, buy it a fucking sweater. Tim would do anything as long as you get seen by the paramedics because your lips were blue and he was terrified.

He hides that fear under a scowl as he searches for the pup and pulls him into his arms. The dog is small—a scraggly chihuahua mix of some kind—and he’s just as cold as you; a little less, thanks to the matted fur he’s covered in. Tim unzipped his jacket and wrapped the dog in it, then he headed up the bank to check on you. You, who had been ushered into the back of the ambulance and despite your assurances, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just a little chilly. Guys, this really isn’t necessary, I could warm up just as easily at home—“ shut in. A woman climbed into the driver's seat, her partner in the back with you and the doors were wrenched open a second time, your TO and the stray in his arms joining you. “I’m riding with her,” he tells the paramedics. He sits down on one of the small half-benches. “You’re okay?”

“Is the dog?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll take him to the vet to be sure but he seems okay. Now, Boot, answer.”

“I’m okay, just a little cold and sore. Don’t take him to the shelter after the vet. I’ll pay the bill just let me know how much.”

“You want to adopt him?”

“Yeah, I could use a roommate.”

[arsenysworld]

No Pickles, No Problems

April Ludgate x Male Reader

Y/N wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation. He wasn’t even that hungry, but April had insisted on dragging him to Paunch Burger after a long day of avoiding work at city hall. Now, he found himself staring at the towering Big Mac in his hands, feeling his chest tighten—not from the grease, but from the green abominations peeking out from under the bun.

“Uh, April?” he murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

April leaned against the counter, scrolling through her phone, her ever-present smirk plastered on her face. “What, did they forget your precious extra napkins or something?”

“No, it’s… it has pickles,” he whispered, glancing nervously at the cashier a few feet away.

April froze mid-scroll. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, pickles?”

“I—I’m allergic to pickles,” Y/N admitted, voice so quiet she had to lean closer to hear. “Like, my throat could swell up, allergic.”

April blinked, and for a moment, Y/N thought she might just laugh it off and tell him to man up. Instead, her expression darkened, and her smirk twisted into something far more dangerous. Without a word, she grabbed the offending burger out of his hands.

“April, it’s fine, I can just—”

“No,” she cut him off, her tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “They had one job.”

Before he could stop her, April stormed toward the counter, her combat boots thudding against the floor. The few customers in the restaurant turned to watch as she slammed the Big Mac down with a force that made the soda cups on the counter tremble.

Travis, the cashier, looked up from his phone, startled. His expression shifted from bored indifference to pure terror as he met April’s withering glare.

“He. Ordered. No. Pickles,” she said, enunciating each word like a knife being sharpened.

Travis blinked at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Uh, I-I can fix that,” he stammered, his voice cracking.

“You’re damn right you’re gonna fix it,” April snapped, leaning forward until her face was mere inches from his. “Because if he eats a pickle and drops dead, I’ll make sure you’re the one explaining to his mom why her precious son kicked the bucket in your crappy restaurant.”

Behind her, Y/N tugged at the sleeve of her leather jacket. “April, it’s not a big deal—”

She spun around, silencing him with a look. “Not a big deal? Do you want to die choking on a pickle? Huh? Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life avenging your death like some sad, goth widow.”

Y/N’s face turned crimson. “Uh… no?”

“Exactly,” she said, turning back to Travis, who was frantically assembling a new burger. “Get it right this time. No pickles. Not even a hint of pickle juice. Do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” Travis squeaked, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

When the new burger was handed over, April inspected it with the intensity of a forensic investigator. After a long moment, she nodded. “Good. You live to serve terrible food another day.”

As they left the restaurant, Y/N glanced over his shoulder to see Travis slumping against the counter, visibly relieved.

“Was that really necessary?” Y/N asked, biting his lip to suppress a nervous chuckle.

April shrugged, casually slipping her hand into his. “Of course. No one messes with my boyfriend. Not even fast food morons.”

Despite himself, Y/N felt a shy smile tug at his lips. “Thanks. For, uh, sticking up for me.”

April smirked, leaning closer. “Don’t get all mushy on me, nerd. Now eat your pickle-free burger before I throw it in the trash.”

Y/N laughed softly, his chest feeling lighter. She might have a dark sense of humor and a terrifying streak, but April cared in her own unique way.

And that was more than enough for him.

@fandomnerd9602 @jacenradio7 @6rookie-writer0110 @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[bettystonewell]

What Happened Last Night? - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. Friends to Lovers 18+ only

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two

Or read it on AO3 here

A/N: Hey 👋 This is my first time posting a fanfic on Tumblr. The names’s Beth (Aussie/Dean-girl/tired mum). I’ve been on AO3 (and Wattpad) for over a year now and thought it was about time I put my big girl pants on and join the community here because it looks fun (though the social media side of this scares my close-to-midlife-crisis-ass). So, yeah, newbie in terms of everything here - please be kind. If you recognise me from the other sites, please say hi ���� This is a cross post - there are two chapters total. Let’s see how this goes!

in vino, veritas

in wine, there is truth

Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill. 

You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.

"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed. 

Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.

It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.

In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference. 

Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.

Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching. 

He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.

You knew better.

Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text. 

You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.

Past you was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it. 

Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.

A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.  

And she was almost there. 

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable. 

Well, more uncomfortable than normal.

“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”

“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.

But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation. 

Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.

“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.

Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.

Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.

Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand. 

While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”

And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.

Fuck. Your head was pounding.

Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked. 

Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.

They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.

‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.

You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.

At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.

The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.

Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.

You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.

Odd. You didn’t own white sheets. 

You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space. 

Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there. 

You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor. 

Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?

Fuck.

Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.

This was Dean’s room? 

This was Dean’s room. 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. 

What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.

Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower... 

You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.

The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…

Oh… Oh…

Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.

You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes. 

And that was before you’d gotten to know him.

Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate. 

Not that he’d done it so much lately. 

Except, maybe now.

You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.

You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you. 

Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.

You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.

Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?

Yeah right. 

You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.

Go you... That was something to be proud of, not. 

You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on. 

While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did. 

You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side. 

Hmm.

There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.

Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game. 

“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?” 

In other words - Where’s Dean?

Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge. 

Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.

Coffee. You needed some of that.

“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”

Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.

“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”

Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor. 

You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.

“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.

There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.

Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.

“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”

“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”

“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across. 

“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times. 

Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”

“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.

“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.

Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.

“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”

Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.

You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.

“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?” 

Fuck.

You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.

As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world. 

Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.

You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.

Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”

Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.

“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.

Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you. 

Not for his ego, but for yours.

You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that. 

“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”

Wait. He was? “You were?” 

“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.

He thought. Thought what?

You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.  

The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.

“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.

There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body. 

You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.

Had you gotten into those jeans last night?

“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”

What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him. 

All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours. 

He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.

“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away. 

“Dean. Did we…” 

He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something. 

Something that led you to his room and into his bed. 

There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter. 

And now, he was disappointed.

Could it be that he felt the same way you did? 

————————————————————Thank you for reading! I’ll try posting part two same time next week - or you can read it now on AO3 here. In the meantime, I’ll be trying to work this site out (and finishing my WIPs whose updates are overdue… 🙃

[brotherwtf]

How about Gale overhearing John talking about him to someone? (with positive outcome)

oooo now this is a very interesting prompt, thanks anon!!

decided to basically mash up all of my fave clegan scenes into one big rainbow scene, I hope you guys enjoy :))

----

John often ran his mouth, both sober and with a drink in him, but the stories always seemed to flow more with the flow of liquor into his system. Always bragging, always galavanting about someone or something to any ear that would listen, especially if it was about his favorite subject, Gale Cleven.

Exaggerating stories until the Major seemed more myth than man, talking to anyone who would listen about all of their escapades, good and bad.

And John would do it no matter if the man himself was there or not, and often did it despite Gale's best wishes.

But even now, as Gale sits on the edge of the dance floor, he can hear John's loud and unabashed laugh as he starts to weave another tale for the poor dames he has coerced. Gale noticed the slightly tense smiles of a woman who was originally only interested in getting beneath John's uniform now being blathered at by a Major far drunker than she expected.

"Nah but my buddy, Buck, here, he don't like sports. Not team sports anyway, likes boxing, 'test of manhood' or whatever the fuck that means," John says, eyes lazy as he points jovially back at Gale, recalling the night Curt lay an RAF pilot on the ground with a singular jab. Gale couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"Was gonna slug that RAF pilot himself the nasty fucker. Ah, he had it coming, don't you worry girls. Buck woulda knocked him straight on his British ass I just know it, there's nothing our Buck can't do, can probably take on the whole Luftwaffe by himself, all engines feathered. Hey, Buck!" John says, turning back towards Gale with loose limbs and gesturing for him to stand next to him.

Usually, Gale would be content to sit on the sidelines and watch John act a fool, but John was gesturing so heavily that it felt like he had a string attached to Gale's chest, pulling him over with just a beckon. Even when Gale puts himself right in the crook of John's body, right where he seemed to fit, John so easily puts his arm around Gale's shoulder.

"Tell em, No-Engine Cleven, nah I'll tell em, he's the best damn pilot in the 100th, hell, maybe even the whole air force, my Buck here is just too good, I wish I could fly half as good as him," John says, leaning his weight into Gale's, leaning so that his face is dangerously close to his.

Gale feels warmth bloom in his stomach but he just lets himself roll his eyes, wrapping a stabilizing arm around John's waist to prevent him from toppling over, giving the women a friendly yet tight smile.

"Easy there, Major, now I think it's best we turn in for the night. It was lovely meeting you ladies," Gale says, keeping his voice clipped and polite despite hearing the girls murmurs of how drunk John seemed to be.

The cool of the English night hits Gale's hot cheeks as soon as he drags John out of the officers club, hiding his tight smile into the night.

"Don't gotta go bragging on me, Bucky, I can hail my own victories," Gale says, breath misting in the air.

John smiles at him, swaying dangerously into Gale as they walk clumsily back to the barracks.

"It's all true, my love, someone's gotta say it and it might as well be me," John says, planting a wet smacking kiss to Gale's cheek.

Gale really should be more careful, but he seems to be getting drunk just on John's warmth and turns his head to press a careful kiss to John's lips, one that's far too slow for John's liking.

"It's my pleasure, Gale, you're my favorite thing to talk about," John says, a rogue hand coming up to squeeze Gale's cheeks and bring him in for another kiss, not being able to help the smile that spreads across both of their faces.

[raintemper]

More of them,, but they’re robot cats this time lol… I’ll draw Moon and Pebbles soon, and some others maybe

I’ll do anything but actually draw them as Iterators apparently

Don't look too close, Ive never drawn such mech heavy designs until now...I don't know what I'm doing. I got a little more confident with NSH but I was absolutely just going blind with Suns. It took me 2 days to figure out how I wanted to start with Suns...

Some background info dump of them for this? Au??? Idk yet lol, under the line if interested

Erhm. Set in a post apocalyptic world, much like how Rain World actually is. Alternative timeline where iterators don't exist?? Failed??? The ancients have not yet ascended?? Maybe??? Idk the details are still blurry to me also 😞. They are in a high security lab facility ground type setting. (Perhaps just an excuse for me to draw apocalyptic higher tech designs????) It is cold outside, some failed iterator structures still produce rain, and occasionally the air may become toxic.

Suns is an offensive/surveillance model meant for fighting and protecting as one can probably tell with his tail blades. It folds back in an attempt to make it less dangerous and also functions as a way to swiftly cut into something if needed. They are the only one of them (excluding Pebbles for special reasons) to be equipped with a mouth hiding sharp teeth and/or lasers for even more attack prowess. They are also still huge. Sorry I run with the huge Suns agenda. He is a tower. Easily wrestles most lizards. I still like the idea of fluffy Suns, so he still has it as a robot cat. Some insulation for the colder outside temperatures, he's outside a lot. Suns is not built to be friendly. Mostly acts and behaves as an unassuming robot early on.

Moon and Suns were the first properly functional/successful projects. They were edited and reconstructed a lot from beginning to now. Maybe they were both originally purposed as therapeutic companions.

The overseers are little drones that fly around. They still project things and are still sometimes unhelpful with directions, follow at your own discretion. The lizards and predators mostly ignore them as well. They do recognize the different drones with time. They've learned to recognize NSH's drones, which sometimes might contain some edible collected material, so they do occasionally try to eat those. And most of the smaller predators try to leave the area if they see Suns' drones.

NSH is closer to a pet model. He is made for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still tiny because I like him tiny, he's adorable. NSH has three pairs of legs for rough terrain traversal, and is a fast little guy. He helps in collecting samples and materials from the outside, marking maps, as well as finding viable safe spots/shelters. He has no mouth but has a component in his chest where he can collect small samples, as well as storage units in his drones to store excess. He has small vials of decontaminate fluid to clean any samples he collects, they have to be refilled occasionally. Also, as mentioned in the art, he can open his neck and chest area and just swallow bigger samples. He can even keep them alive inside him if he wants to. Otherwise, they're killed and turned into power for him to use. Sometimes he finds lizards with cool patterns and tries to swallow them to show Suns, who oftentimes will kill it afterwards.

He was the experimental project for emotive programming alongside Unparalleled Innocence/UI, hence his fully functioning screen as a face. As opposed to Suns, who functions more as a security camera. I think NSH and UI are both similar in the more playful/chaotic personalities, so I decided for them to be created around the same time and put into the same testing. Overtime, UI did not respond very well and was repurposed (She's not gone). Emotive sentience was programmed into NSH first and then tested on Moon. It was generally successful in both cases. NSH really enjoys messing around and can even imitate his fellow iterators faces. It works really well temporarily scaring predators using Suns' color markings lol.

Because NSH and Suns are both outside often, they have solar panel components in their design for extra power. The two of them are very close because of their shared experiences. NSH likes the outside more, Suns has little opinions of it. They worry about NSH because he's so small and curious and occasionally brings back dangerous things.

Suns is a little bit of an outcast here because of his difference in role. He is mostly left to roam and function on his own/not approached as he carries his role. The others are research focused and Suns is more obviously purposed for battle, so there is a little bit of a divide. Not to mention, he technically does not have the programming for emotions that Moon and NSH have. Suns does learn on his own though :D, some of it is learned from NSH too

I will leave it here for now. I will probably talk more about Moon and Pebbles for their own post. And the others as well. I'm still thinking about their designs though.

Erhm hopefully this makes sense somewhat and was at least a fun read.

[shazzbaa]

Asking the FLoc crayon [neon carrot] bc someone has to.

neon carrot: if you could give them any npc as a spouse, who would it be and why?

THIS IS SUCH A HARD QUESTION.

To address the obvious answer given recent activities: no i dont think he should marry Feducci, but he… might, if given the chance. The man CANONICALLY sent Sam 12 cellars of wine with a note reading "TO PASSIONS UNMATCHED" i dont think anyone can blame him for feeling like they had something special!!!! Feducci seems like he could make him very satisfied intimacy-wise but would also almost certainly Make Him Worse.

Samuel's constant difficulty with Marriage is that he isn't really… romantic in the traditional sense. HE HAS A LOT OF PHYSICAL DESIRE but romance rarely does anything for him outside of stories, and he gets antsy whenever he's locked in to a particular life plan. HOWEVER: he is usually too Catholic(TM) to really embrace a no-strings-attached lifestyle, and his tastes are well outside the typical Veilgarden hookup anyway (one of his most sensual experiences was getting murdered by an actual literal lance through the gut, so…). The real reason he bought multiple viric dreams of the Bishop of Southwark was that he was trying SO hard to Want Marriage, but even with someone so physically intense and driven, that dream of settling down for life isn't what he really wants; he just wants the part where they're wrestling by the fire.

The other complication is that he has finally found partners he can be happily intimate with: Peter and Jack (@little-red-notebook and @reliably-derogaffectionate's characters, respectively), to whom he is essentially a friend with benefits. He was best man at their wedding somewhat wistfully, but since they've both assured him that they still want him involved in their relationship, it feels very easy to be with them; a closeness he wants without the expectations that come with being a Spouse. It's still, you know, making love outside of marriage, but Samuel has never been good at avoiding that, and at least here he knows he's not leading anyone on or cheating on anyone.

An Ideal Marriage for Sam would involve some amount of polyamory to give him room for these inevitable, ah, extracurricular activities, someone that doesn't tie him down, ideally someone he can do physically dangerous things with and, importantly, have sex (these two activities can be combined). But I also think in an ideal world he would have someone who respects his own principles and doesn't try to smother his hope for compassion with duty, which feels like the big sticking point for a lot of the aggressive characters (like Southwark and Feducci) that Sam's attracted to.

I don't remember well enough to say how many of these points she hits, but I keep thinking of the Zubmariner from the Sunken River ES, as someone no-nonsense in a way Sam really respected and found attractive, but who also has people she cares about. She might be too cool to fall for this soggy loser, though, and the chances of her turning out to be a lesbian seem high. (Also Sam left her behind…. that's a choice he regrets, and I kinda wanna replay that story at some point, with the idea of him actually trying to go back for her). But in general, the idea of Samuel marrying a principled pirate where they both know their first love will always be the zee feels like something that could turn out to be a genuinely happy partnership for him. BUT WHO KNOWS maybe in a year I'll come back with a totally different answer I never saw coming.

[amuseintime]

Shattering Realization (Pt 3)

Star Souls AU

Bonnie doesn’t understand why Stupidfrin isn’t moving or why no one can do anything about it. So they take matters into their own hands, sneaking into the tent.

<<PREV || FIRST || NEXT >>

Bonnie squinted at the setting sun. They were still camping at the same place as yesterday. They should’ve still been moving, but Dile said they could wait until tomorrow afternoon, no later. If they waited, the curse might get them. So they should’ve still been moving!

But they couldn’t, because Frin couldn’t.

Za was still distracted talking to Belle on watch, and Dile was reading, so no one was guarding Frin’s tent. They slipped through the cloth barrier as silently as a cat, stopping in the doorway. It was dim inside, but maybe that was better. They didn’t like looking at his face like this, didn’t like seeing him stare at nothing forever and ever no matter whether they were standing in front of them or not. He was still curled up in his sleeping bag, looking almost like he was sleeping but he wasn’t… was he? Not even Dile seemed to know, and she knew everything!

“Frin… Frin!” They whispered, lightly shaking him. He didn’t respond.

“… is this really you?” They said, taking his arm and pulling up the sleeve. It was cool to the touch. “I know you said you’re you and you’ll be back, but you’re not acting like it! You’re all cold and stare forever and won’t move!” Their whispers were verging dangerously close to yells. They swallowed the lump in their throat, eyes stinging. “Why won’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell us, you- you…” They sniffled, rubbing tears away from their eyes.

More than anything they wanted him to wake up, to be flesh and blood, to tell them they had a nightmare and he never got hurt. They wanted him to move and talk and just do something besides lie there! Anything! Even if it was yelling at them!

“Frin? C’mon, wake up! Wake up, Stupidfrin! Belle said you aren’t cursed, so you gotta get up now!” They shook him a little harder, but nothing.

“… Frin?”

Nothing.

Bonnie bit their hand to muffle their sobs, big fat tears blurring their vision. Desperate for something, anything, they pulled up the corner of the sleeping bag and wiggled in. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, Frin was hard. He was hard and cool to the touch, but it was as close as they could get. They tugged one arm to hold themselves to his chest, feeling their own warmth seep into his clothes, into the sleeping bag, slowly replacing what should’ve been there, but wasn’t. All the while, their tears made an increasingly damp spot on his cloak.

“Please, please wake up…”

Something touched the back of their head. At first they thought they imagined it, but it repeated. Gloved fingers threaded through their hair in a slow, rhythmic pattern, and they held Frin all the tighter.

“Frin! That’s-that’s you doing that, right? I feel it! You’re here! You’re here…”

They didn’t know what else to say, just nestling against him as he stroked their hair. No more words were said, they just held each other until Bonnie fell asleep.

————

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[nikethestatue]

Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. And just because Elain thinks she is ready, doesn’t mean she is.

Nah this is weird to say. I thought you were all "we respect what Elain says" and then you pull up with this..

Azriel not wanting her exposed to the dread trove is straight up coddling, especially when Elain says she wanted to do it. That is not a good look. He's holding her back for her potential as a made seer. How could they go on spy missions if he doesn't want her in danger?

But when Elain had to claim she was a part of the NC, then we take her word for it? Though none of the others has had to claim to be part of it, it's show, don't tell with them. Even though "the spring court was made for someone like Elain", she smells like "a promise of spring", and "black suck the life out of her, no matter how much she claimed to be a part of this court"??

It comes across as a bit... pick and choose imho🤷

Just saying..

You guys are strange when you think that 'coddling' is some type of an insult. No, caring for people that you love and not putting them in danger is not coddling. It's being cautious and smart.

Azriel has a first hand view to what powers that are unknown and uncontrolled can do to a person--namely Nesta. She is destroyed. She is suffering. She is plagued by horrible visions, which he saw in person. Azriel saw how Elain was after she was Made. She was destroyed. She was suffering. She was plagued by horrible visions, which no one could explain (until him).

Azriel who went to Hyben to rescue her might have felt the connection that she had with the Cauldron. Cauldron's infatuation with her. Two days later, she made that thing purr.

She also clearly states that she needs to 'dust off' her powers. Aka, she doesn't use them and doesn't really know how to utilize them. NONE of them know how many of these powers work. And Azriel's seen again and again and again how rushing into things--which is something Rhys tends to do--and having awful plans or no plans (remember that lil trip to Hybern? THAT was a raging success. Or that trip to Summer? Or ten other things that Rhys half-assed and failed at) -leads to more failures than successes.

Furthermore, was Cassian coddling Nesta when he set her in a tree and forbade her from moving from there? And what happened when she did? She was SAed by the Kelpie. When she was sent to the Prison, she was almost killed, Cassian was almost killed, and when Cassian ordered her to run, did he coddle her?

Azriel is the first person to say: this is a bad idea. He is RATIONAL. And he is a strategist.

When he told Mor--the warrior queen of immense power--that she may NOT sneak into the Queens' Palace, he wasn't coddling her. He was mitigating a potential disaster.

When he advised the IC that Elain shouldn't be exposed to the darkness of the Cauldron, he wasn't coddling her. He was acting as a member of the governing body of his Court and an experienced warrior.

Interesting how you don't bring up how the same Azriel didn't 'coddle' Elain during the war, but offered her Truth Teller and told her to take care of herself.

He didn't attempt to hide her powers from her--he named the and gave them a way to be used and explained.

A woman saying 'I don't like this man' or 'I belong in this place, where I live' is NOT the same as her saying that she can go and essentially diffuse a nuclear weapon or look for nuclear warheads in the middle of Kandahar because she's read the manual once.

Be for real.

And, I, for one would LOVE to see a woman being loved, protected and coddled by a man, for a change.

It's funny how all of the hardcore Nesta stans are raging over Cassian NOT coddling her enough, not caring for her well-being enough, not protecting her, and listening to Rhys all the time, but when it comes to Azriel putting his foot down, suddenly it's him preventing Elain from doing stupid shit for Rhys.

(side note, this is not an anti Rhys post. But the dude isn't a very good strategist)

[alexa-fika]

First off i love all of you one piece fics. I just recently got into the fandom again and i found you fics and they are just amazing

I wanted to request whitebeard crew x teen reader

This js kinda based of my cat, so here's the backstory, we originally had 2 cats until recently when my mom brought back a "stray", really cuddly cat and we all loved it, unfortunately later it turned out that this stray was already someone's cat so we gave it back, but while it was here one of the original cats was really jealous. Usually she hates being picked up except when it's me, but while the "stray" stayed with us she became really mean and not even I was allowed to pick her up

And I wanted to ask if you could write something similar to this, were the whitebeards maybe pick up another teen or just a new crewmate and the reader is kinda jealous/mean and scared the they might be replaced (abandonment issues) and maybe add one person they usually have a great relationship with but suddenly they completely avoid/ignore them and won't let anyone be near them.

I hope you can work with this, sorry for writing so much

Have a great day/night and know that you are amazing!! <3

First Envy (teen!Marco x winged!teen!reader)

A/N . Throwing a tantrum because I left the app to get a pic of young marco to share and tumblr deleted my progress. Anyhow something about young marco just tickles my fancy, he’s just such a goofy guy and even more lovable

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc characters both!

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

“Come on, Dokucha! Join the party!” Vista called excitedly

“You can’t drink yet, but there are a lot of other things you can do; we have set up a lot of games since we have more kids around,” he prattled on, only to pause and wince at the glare the teen sent their way.

“Okay… I’ll leave you be then,” he muttered as he backed away from them and turned around, making a quick exit.

Dokucha sighed, watching from their place on the nest as the rest of the crew below them partied; what brought a scowl to the face, however, was the center of the celebration: their newest addition to the crew, Momonosoke.

They enviously observed as everyone fretted over him, ensuring he didn’t run anywhere dangerous or, God forbid, fall and start crying. Oh, the cries. Every time they cried, it was as if everything had to stop in order to check on him.

“If you stare any harder, Momo won’t survive-yoi!”

“Huh?” They snapped their head around at the sound only to see an empty space beside them rather than a person.

“Up Here-yoi!” Marco laughed as he called to the teen, his devil fruit activated as he used his wings to hold himself upside down in the air.

“Agh! Marco! I told you to stop doing that!” they called, scurrying back to make space between them.

“Haha! But your reactions are just the best-yoi!” he cackled, righting himself up and perching on the railings of the nest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was lonely down there-yoi! I was missing my best mate!” he called jovially.

“Din’t seem that way, you seem to be just fine with the new people,” they sneered, taking hold of a rope and swinging themselves to an adjacent crow’s nest, their wings flapping on instinct behind them.

“You mean Momo? Well, it is refreshing to have new faces, not to mention that they are quite adorable!” he gushed, a small blush on his face as he did.

“Then, by all means, please go and spend your precious time with them.” They scoff, turning away from them, earning Marco a frown as he glided his way down, straight onto Whitebeard’s shoulder.

“Hey Pops! Something’s going on with Dokucha.”

“Hah, What do you mean?” he grumbled, looking up at his youngest

“Well, they are kind of snappy-yoi”

“They are always snappy, Marco,” he called with a roll of his eyes.

“Huh? No, they’re not. I mean, they aren’t a ray of sunshine, but they aren’t snappy, either. But now they seem to have been avoiding me. They seem to have been like this since Momo arrived,” he mused as a thought hit him.

“Are they jealous of the baby-yoi?!”

“Marco, you idiot!” he growled, bringing his fist down on the armrest of his chair, scaring Marco enough to make him jump off the older man’s shoulders.

“P-Pops?” he called as he took to hovering in front of the man.

“They’re scared!” he snapped.

“Of a baby?!” he cried.

“Listen Here, Marco, the kid has been here for a month. Do you remember where we rescued them from? How they were?! They were close to dying with their wings completely mangled! They are still trying to get used to the fact that not everyone out there is an abusive bastard that will sell them for some spare change!” Whitebeard barked

“T-They think we’re going to leave them?! But we aren’t! Can’t you talk to them, Pops?”

“That’s no good; they won’t listen to me,” he muttered as he tilted his tokkuri all the way, u,p, taking in every drop of the sake inside.

“What is that supposed to mean-yoi? Who would they listen if not you, Pops?” he asked as he flew closer to the man, his worry increasing as time went on.

“You! You Moron!” He boomed

“Me?!”

“Marco, I took them in, but they only trust you at this moment; they relate the most to you physically,” he started, gesturing to his avian features

“And you are the closest in age to them, too,” he finished. It was a small detail, seeing as the next youngest, Vista, was only 2 years older than Marco, standing at seventeen, but it seems that to the thirteen-year-old, this was a significant gap that his older sons were still unable to cross. However, he thought this to not be the defining factor, unlike the features that they both seem to share, Especially now when the teen found themselves in a stage where they had to re-learn everything that had to do with their wings as the appendages slowly grew back, as such they did the most reasonable thing and looked for the person who could guide them, Marco.

“I thought I told you to leave,” they snarled, hearing the flapping of wings behind them and the breeze of wind that came from them.

“You did-yoi.”

“You talked to the old man? He put you up to this?”

“Not really-yoi, he did made me realized you might be feeling lonely though!” he called flying In front of them, giving them no other option but to pay attention to the teen.

“You know we’re just excited for Momo to be here, right? We’re happy you’re here too,” he asked, getting excited as they hummed in response, knowing that they had caught their attention.

“You’re one of us, too,” he grinned, putting himself upside down once again.

“Besides! can’t imagine being without a flying buddy! t was starting to get on my nerves to be the only one able to do air scouting-yoi!” letting out a snicker as he noticed their bashful response at his honest words.

“I can’t really do much of that right now, though,” they muttered, glancing at their tiny stubby wings.

“You will, but you still won’t be able to beat me, so don’t get your hopes up,” he teased.

“As if! give it a few months, you will be eating those words!”

“You’re on-yoi.”

“Ha! I don’t need them to beat you now!” They smirked, taking hold of the ropes once again as they swung away, grabbing a hold of another rope as soon as their current one ran out, effectively gliding around the ship with little to no effort.

“You better not regret taking me on-yoi.” He called as he righted himself and propelled himself forward right after Dokucha.

“Ha! You show that prick, Dokucha! Someone has to put him in his place!” Fossa grinned as his crewmates joined in, cheers and whistles sounded across the Deck as the two avians traversed the ship, their own glee evident.

Look at this goofy guy

Was trying to find the one of him upside down but this will do. Also this fic just made me realized that Marco isin’t the oldest one in the crew :p I had thought he was older than the other commanders but theres like five older than him.

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[petitelepus]

Okkkk ammm,Demon reader x platonic hashiras (gender neutral or female) where the reader is a kind of magpie or avian demon, loves shiny and expensive or flashy things and steals them from humans, but does not kill or eat them, what he steals he takes to a nest, reader is somewhat wild and aggressive, but avoids conflicts and is quite playful

When the Hashiras heard about you, they were all ready to kill you, just like what they did with every Demon there was... Only it looked like you didn't consume humans to live?

Either way, a Demon was a Demon and you were a threat to humans! Or so they thought, but you seemed to avoid humans until you couldn't.

"Ooh, shiny...!"

There were reports of your voice echoing around your potential victims and huge eyes gleaming in darkness...! But you never took a life but you seemed to take something else entirely.

People who were unaware of Demons thought you were only a talented thief and they were almost right. You were a talented Demon thief.

Your nest was hidden from the sun, but it still gleamed with all the shiny things you had stolen, such as hair pieces, coins, and anything that shined, gleamed, or glowed, you had to get it to your collection.

Giyu wasn't exactly jumping in joy. He thinks you need to be killed, but you make it hard to point out where you are and where your nest is. Your little song seems to ring around the area and it makes it hard to pinpoint your location.

Sanemi thinks you should have been killed on the spot, but you avoid him like the plague. He is loud and brash, he isn't welcome to your nest! If he finds you, you create a diversion and take your chance to escape with your nest.

Kyojuro had taken up the job to inspect you and your behavior... But you seem to avoid him? The truth is that his eyes, while pretty to normal people, make you feel uneasy and alert. It doesn't help that he is very loud, ouch, your poor ears.

Shinobu was after you when she heard you giggle and shoot down in an attempt to steal her hairpiece, but before you could do that, she had her sword out and cut your avian legs that reached for her beloved hairpiece. You screeched at her as your legs grew back, but you quickly flew away before she could get you for good. Needless to say, you are a little bitter and she just smiles, daring you to try that again.

Muichiro doesn't really care, a Demon is a Demon that needs to be killed... But you seem to take a liking to him. No one really knows why, but you had this urge to spread your wings, sing, and dance around him.

Obanai, much like snakes with birds, is after you, but like real animals, you detest him and that snake around his neck. You hide and won't make a sound when you sense him nearby, but he doesn't need to trust his eyes or ears when he has Kaburamaru with him. If things get dangerous, you might use your winds to blow him off, grab your nest, and make a run for it.

Mitsuri was alerted when approaching the area where your nest was rumored to be located... But as you heard her sweet voice, you couldn't help but whistle at her, much to her confusion. When she whistles back at you, you return the sound with your own little chipper song and she smiles. You don't appear so bad, you sound rather juvenile to her.

Tengen both likes and hates you. Your passion for shiny and flashy things is amazing but he didn't appreciate it when you swooped in to steal his headpiece. Unlike with Shinobu, you succeed, but Tengen is a ninja and quickly follows you to your nest. Seeing all the treasures you have is impressive, but he wants his headpiece back. Give it to him, and maybe he will give you something in return?

Gyomei couldn't sense any ill will from you, other than your will to protect all the shiny things you had collected. His blindness seems to interest you, but more than that, his praying beads look really nice...! You may try to sneak up on him and grab his beads when he isn't looking, but he is wiser than that and slams his palms together, startling you and making you take off. The weird thing is, you seem to follow after him from the shadows and trees, those pretty beads plaguing your mind.

[the-thread-of-muses]

Sometimes, it’s the simpler things that gained the Monkey’s attention. Let it be her invitation – which the Monkey King was going to accept after pretending to give it some thought later in the day – or of how a simple chime caught his attention. His ears almost wiggled, but he suppressed it; not wanting to give himself away just yet. As it seems, currently, he was either just a Monkey with no wares or a rather hairy, and abit short, Human with an affinity for brightly colour glass. It’s blue, greens, teals, and purples sparked up memories (some that Sun wondered were necessary to remember); of a time that seemed far more simple.

Of a time where he didn’t need to think of being an annoyance for annoyance sake; of a time where he had some sort of purpose. Yes, as the memories of his pilgrimage came flooding back, he didn’t notice the Witch. In fact he seemed to have forgotten her, at least for the moment.

Scattered about in the colour refractions were idle thoughts and wonders, joys and anger and hate and peace and longing, all before him. It seemed like an idle movement, but he went to reach, hesitantly it seems, at something that wasn’t there. Something only his eyes, as bright and golden as they were, could see. Sun only paused once her head the sound of coin hitting the booth.

That’s what broke him out of his trance.

Blinking a few times and shaking his head to recompose himself, Sun looked over at Mortem and pretended to gawk at her generosity. While, honestly, he was grateful and touched by such selfless actions, he couldn’t help but to wonder what she got out of it. An amused titter left his lips then, going to smile at the merchant who examined the coin with such focus.

It was true, he was without money. Well, not really; he could afford himself a simple chime such as this, if he had simply remembered to bring the correct tinder. But for the moment and the moment alone, he was in her debt.

Which. . .

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎. . . Truthfully, felt like something he should be more worried about. Being indebted to a Witch was far too dangerous – too reckless, some might say. But he couldn’t see any harm in it. He’ll steal something for her later on, he decided, going to gently take the wind chime as it was handed to him.

❝Thank you, Grandma.❞ He said to the stall’s owner, who seemed to smile at how ‘respectful’ he was to his ‘elder’. It was the small things like this that made Humans so. . . Entertaining. So unique. Respect for one’s elders was something he’ll use for the ‘younger’ Gods and Deities about then.

He was a few thousand or so years older than most.

As he gently, carefully, handled the chime, he went to carefully slip it away into his robe. Clearly, there was a hidden pocket or two (or three, or four, perhaps even more) that he was using. It helped, certainly, that he wasn’t dressed as one would see the Monkey King to be dressed up as.

Going to catch up to her, another titter leaving his lips to get her attention as if she was a Monkey herself, he went to lightly elbow Mortem in the rib.

❝You didn’t need to do that, you know.❞ He said once they were walking side-by-side again. He wanted to thank her, but of course, his ego made it far too difficult to so something so. . . Simple. ❝If it wasn’t an elder manning that booth, I would’ve gotten it one way or another.❞

Old habits died hard, and they died harder with Sun.

❝You’re far too kind, you know, for a Witch.❞ He meant no ill intent with that statement, and he was sure at this point the other would understand what he meant.

Mortem laughed lightly at the thought of his boredom leading him to harass the Heavens. She'd love to be a fly on the wall for that. Upsetting deities was a respectable hobby, in her opinion. Though, given his reputation, she was sure it would cause quite the stir.

"But I see your meaning. I've had plenty come to my home demanding the same. Or not even having the courtesy to ask - sometimes they go straight for the jugular under their own assumptions." Mortem lamented playfully. She wasn't really that bothered, it kept life semi-interesting. At least, when someone worth the interest came along. But even when it wasn't someone of interest, at least the corpses could make for good fertilizer for her gardens.

Despite the audacity the deities had, she supposed it was nice they recognized his power enough to talk first instead of trying to attack. Showed a bit of wisdom on their behalf, also meant his mountain wasn't constantly getting banged up or worse. Unlike her cabin. The enchantments she had to place upon it to cease fixing it constantly was a bit ridiculous - if not a bit sad.

His opinion of the festival was one she was amused by. It was rather quaint they upheld such a tradition, especially in an age where harvests weren't a thing mortals struggled with any longer. Still, appreciating the trials of the past was something that would always garner her respect. The importance of history, the value and relevancy it had - setting a foundation for the present, as the present set a foundation for the future... it was all of value. She worked hard to ensure history would not be forgotten, regardless of where in the world it could happen.

"If you'd like to attend a festival that celebrates a great battle that was overcome, I certainly know of a place back home. You ought to come visit at the end of spring." She invited. The capital city and high kingdom that unified all the others often held a celebration. A remembrance. It was a bittersweet event, but it possessed a reminder of their history - the value of keeping that knowledge alive was important beyond words. And hearing people speak so fondly, so admirably of the people she knew so longer ago still... It was always worth attending for that alone.

As they walked, she observed the passing people - the happy children, smelled the various foods in the air. All before she noticed his hand signaling her to pause. Curiously, the witch followed - wondering just what caught his eye.

How unexpected... an appreciation for stained glass? He'd really like the festival in her capital, then. Those from the neighboring desert always brought with them sand-blown glass. Wind chimes, vases, art of all kinds with such beautiful craftsmanship.

The chime of it was pretty, no wonder he was drawn to it. Mortem observed the way it swayed, the hum of its chimes, the way the light caught the glass.

"This would look nice upon a mountain, I'd think." She took her chin between her fingers after a moment, "I can imagine the sunlight catching the glass - the breeze making pleasant music." She considered aloud, totally encouraging and enabling him without an ounce of shame. To see such wonder and appreciation from Wukong, well, how could she not suggest such when it clearly made him so happy to see and hear?

From her pouch, she pulled out a coin that would suffice in its payment. It idly rolled across the back of her knuckles before she set it down on the counter before Wukong as a gift - unsure if her new friend had the currency for this country or not. Not wanting him to feel put on the spot to buy it or not, or possibly regarding whether he had the currency or not, the witch walked away to let him decide what he wanted to do. She opted to meander down the tables, admiring the glasswork as she flicked a bell from another wind chime along the way.

Money meant nothing to someone as old as she. What was priceless was seeing the little joys that adorned another's face. Especially the face of someone whose company she was enjoying.

[review-anon]

Mikako why don’t you want to tell Review Anon about the Void Juice? Shouldn’t she know about it?

Look I'm sorry but given everything that has happened, this is the kind of thing Review Anon should know about.

So why in Utsuro's name do you want her to be left in the dark about it?

...I understand some of you probably think this is a stupid idea, after all Review Anon is the main person in charge here, so by all accounts she should know what has almost happened in her home.

But I am completely sincere and honest when I say that telling her about the Void Juice is the worst thing we could do right now.

How could telling Review Anon about the Void Juice be the worst thing we could do?

Besides what if she finds out on her own? She will get mad with us hiding his from her.

Then is your job to ensure she doesn't, keep information as tight as possible.

You haven't answered the question, why are we not allowed to talk to Review Anon about this?

As some of you know...before everything regarding Utsuro occurred. I was studying psychology and was planning to become a therapist when I graduated from Hope's Peak Academy.

Obviously I wasn't able to finish my training but thanks to the resources here, and help from both Gekkogahara and someone who I cannot disclose right now, I now have enough skills to give therapy to people.

To cut a long story short, I'm Review Anon's therapist and have been helping her with some of her issues. With both my psychology and therapist skills I've been learning plus my expertise with spirits, I was uniquely qualified for the role.

What kind of issues does Review Anon have? Aside from her being afraid of water but I mean... she drowned. Anyone would be scared of the things that killed them.

I get nervous with open wires since I got electrocuted for example.

For confidentiality reasons I'm not at liberty to disclose what kind of issues Review Anon has, but she has a very good reason to see me.

And when I heard about the Void Juice and its properties I got hit with a sense of deju vu but couldn't put my finger on it...until I remembered one session where Review Anon got really scared.

And the things that scared her....their similarites to a monster spawned from Void Juice was uncanny...almost as if they are one and the same?

Woah woah woah woah! That's BIG! Y-you are suggesting Review Anon has SEEN these creatures before?

I'm afraid so and this could also tie into where the Void Juice has come from...

Does...anyone know where Review Anon comes from?

Of course not she has ghost amnesia. That's why she looks the way she does, because she has zero sense of identity.

But...this means that Void Juice must have come from Review Anon's home dimension.

So...why not tell her? If anything this is even more reasons to tell her since she might know more about this stuff then we do.

Trust me...the panic attack Review Anon had with this creature...its the worst one I ever seen from her. And that's from a bad memory...if she learns the same kinds of creatures were roaming here....

I fear she might do something really drastic that puts ALL of us in danger.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[bitchthefuck1]

Rewatching succession it really is wild to see Kendall and Shiv convince themselves over and over again that they can "fix ATN/Waystar from the inside" only to completely abandon their morals the minute it gives them a strategic advantage.

When they're on the outside it's an endless diatribe about how evil and rotten the company is to its core, but the second they get the slightest whiff of power they suddenly decide the problems are actually really manageable and that with the right leadership it could be a force for good, and like...the saddest part is that they genuinely seem to believe that.

[florainkingdom]

"They're still young, and don't mean any real harm, yet their powers are still developing at an odd pace. I guess it's to be expected from someone born from chaos itself, though so far, they've taken to the lessons well and do have a certain level of awareness to not get out of hand." Blitz had them set on a pretty good path, and reject whatever Fate throws at them to get them to break it. Still, they're young, eager, and like screwing with people.

"In my opinion the future is what we make of it, though I think I've offered my opinions enough," Blitz said as he stood up. "And my offer to have Blaze come to my domain for a few trials still stands as well. They'll be rather rough, though nothing to put her in any serious danger. She'll certainly be knocked around a bit." After all, he couldn't make them too easy, or they wouldn't be trials. "Thriving isn't the word I would use, though they're still kicking where I'm from. I'm just hoping I can keep it that way this time." The fennec then seemed to think. "I wouldn't want them to be like me. I'd rather they be better." He was far from perfect and had no intention to hide that. "Well, if you ask for my help hopefully, I can keep you from kicking the bucket all together, so I suppose I might see ya later." He then began to make his way back to the shore.

"Well, I didn't tick her off, so I'm going to say things went good," Blitz said as he walked over to Morpheus. "Unless I did tick her off and she has a really good poker face and a lot of self-control. Wouldn't be the first time I had actually ticked off a God or Goddess and didn't know with how well they hid it." The fennec doubts that was the case, though he assumed and didn't assume every outcome. It's a tricky line to walk with thinking like that, though he makes it work.

"So, if I ever come by feel free to drag me into the dream world and lock me in with some crazy threats. I've never dealt with something like that, and I think it'd be an interesting challenge to break out of. Provided I don't end up dying and have to revive myself, though I'm guessing if you do decide to do that you won't go THAT far." Blitz doubts the other would put him in that level of danger, assuming he'd actually take him up on his offer.

She was in no condition to deal with another god of Chaos, then again that didn't necessarily make them evil. She'd seen her share of trickster gods who were entrenched in chaos but far from evil. But she did pray they kept to there own domain. Sol had its protectors still, and powers the others had yet to understand. But she saw no reason to speak on such things with Blitz, even if she found him to be rather agreeable and handsome to. If she were younger perhaps she were younger--- no, she couldn't fancy such thoughts. The curse of being a fertility goddess.

" Chaos is a fickle thing, thought not always evil... it does lead to trouble all the same. I trust you can handle it you do see most capable. "

she smiled weakly at the other realizing how this meeting was wearing her down. She would have to fall into darkness again soon, a dreamless sleep she always feared she would never wake from.

" The future is a fickle beast... best to face it head on, with courage and fire. I wish you much luck on your journeys, and i thank you for your kind offers. Should i change my mind i shall send word... you have given me so much to think about "

She covered her muzzle when he spoke of being older then he looked. He seemed rather young to her, full of life and a good sense of humor. She rather enjoyed his company, it was to bad that her time was short in this life. Had they met 1000 years earlier, perhaps she could have enjoyed a walk across the surface with him. But alas, she was far to weak now and had long ago accepted this as her fate. The moment she tore herself apart to create Blaze, she knew that this would happen.

" Farewell... and thank you, for your company. It has done me good to see that gods still thrive in the universe. I hope the new gods born in sol in the coming days are as kind and benevolent as you "

Once blitz departed and found his way back to shore. Morpheus waited calming staring out across the dreaming sea. He was surprised that Blitz returned so soon, he must have made a good impression on Sol.

" Things went well i hope..."