#but i guess i'll never finish it so rip

[morcegoz]

LUCIFER study x

[ink-going-insane]

random question what do you call it when you occasionally get the sudden urge to just sing the entire pikmin song (pikmin on the gamecube) constantly to the point that you sing it over and over again either to yourself or around friends.

just. asking for a friend

[bakafurai]

Saw my 3-year-old art of Mimi got a bit of attention recently so uhhh here you go I remade it, look at her pose!!!

I actually did manage to get past her after i made that old drawing so go me!

[scarlettcryptid]

hardcore projecting my avoidancy onto dabi in this soulmate au thing i started in november

[blondieeu]

self righteous. rafe c.

rafe, who’s got an idea when he catches kelce's pretty little pouge sister sneaking back into the house in the middle of the night after a halloween party.

he sits with his arms crossed, leaning against your marble island counter as he waits for you to finish struggling through the window. the kitchen being only lit by the stove light made his figure seem a little more intimidating.

when you think the coast is clear and dust the spider webs off your tight, skimpy shirt, you start into the kitchen and are met with one of the biggest shit eating smirks you think you’ve ever seen.

“so, where’d you end up runnin’ off too?”

your heart drops into your chest as you look back at your elder brothers best friend, as well as your friend groups worst nightmare. dressed up in a plain white t-shirt, and some plaid pajama pants. why the hell was he up this late anyway?— and who was he to ask you that question!?

“or—who’d you end up runnin’ off with? oh no, let me guess, the good for fucking nothing pouges.”

rafe, was only supposed to be staying over your house for the weekend. he and your brother, just crashing here for the night since their car broke down on the way to somewhere else, that’s all! so why is he all up in ur grill?

“don’t be an asshole rafe”

"oh well I don't know," he started off, condescendingly "pretty sure your little friends acted like assholes to me when they sunk my boat." he leaned his head down like he was about to take a peak under it. "wonder what your brother would do if he knew you were back with them"

with a sigh you furrowed your eyebrows to give him the best puppy dog face you’ve ever put on for absolutely anybody. he still stood there though, uncrossing his arms and even going to make a movement to tell you to come a little closer—you oblige him.

he put his hand on his trap and rolled his neck around. rafe already looked like he was about to start spouting some bullshit, like he always does. at around this time he also started to really look at what you were wearing too, you were dressed up like a damn hoochie.

“please please rafe, be cool? just this once” you pleaded with him trying to think of any way he could just not be an asshole and be cool for once. the male chuckled and put his hands on the counter, he’s so antsy, why?

"alright-i'll make you a deal, alright?" rafe wiped his nose with his thumb and crossed his well built arms once again. he paced around the kitchen like he was trying to hype himself up to ask the question. "I won't say anything if you let me fuck you."

you laughed nervously, looking around for a couple of seconds with a awkward smile on your face before coming to terms with the fact that he's being serious. you could almost feel your heart dropped as you looked for any playfulness in his face.

“are you fucking serious?! no??-what the fuck”

"hey-hey I should be sayin' that, alright?" rafes brows pushed down as he angrily pushed his finger into his chest. "you're the one out fuckin' around at night, not me ok?! and don't act like you don't like me, I read it in sarah's diary."

you watched as rafe tried to come up with some insane explanation for why he's in the right, as per usual. "are you forreal?" he shrugged. "gonna do this or not?" you quietly weighed your options.

•••

a mean chuckle erupted from the man behind you, "you cryin' ?" he asked teasingly, just from his tone you could hear the shit eating grin on his face, he was never gonna stop holding this over your head.

sobs poured from your mouth like a facet with every thrust as the he fucked you from behind, both of your hands tightly pinned behind you from rafe getting quickly irritated with you trying to stop his movements.

the couch. thats how far he made it on the very short walk to the bedroom before getting impatient and just ripping your clothes off you right then and there; your white skirt laying on the foyer floor as proof.

he had you pushed right into the piece of nice furniture- your white leather family couch. your hands rested on the crest rail of the couch and your knees were widely spread out on top of it, from when he pushed his knee in between yours and forced them open.

"cryin' cus you know you got no business letting me fuck you" he mocked you as he pressed all his body weight into your lower back. rafe whispered into your ear while he gifted you full strokes of his cock. "what if I tell your friends you let me fuck you, what if I tell my sister hm? what's she gonna think?"

"i-" just as a breather loud yelp escaped your throat your brothers best friend wrapped a hand around your mouth, swiftly muffling all your sounds. "be-quiet"

blondieeu xx

[anantaru]

— taking care of his wounds

including xiao, scaramouche, diluc, childe x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & angst, crack, mentions of blood, sweet n cute

— xiao

"you do not have to do this."

"but i want to!"

deep down inside, it was imperatively embarrassing for xiao to have you mend his wounds and scratches— especially considering the fact that you were seeing him this way for once, a shelter of vulnerability and weakness, as he always seem to put it.

a good for nothing who cannot even be strong enough to defend himself, let alone the person he fell in love with.

keep in mind, you were very much aware of your boyfriend and his cruel views on himself, precisely the hurting words chosen by him, which he would insult himself with on a daily basis.

as punishment? one can only guess or say that much, but there was a translucent underlining that only a handful of people were able to take a grasp on.

"and you‘re my boyfriend xiao." that happiness in your voice, he couldn't get enough of it. but you always add the right words into the mix, catching a bolstering blush on xiao‘s handsome face the sweet moment he picks up your chosen name for him.

'boyfriend' was he worthy of such a name? he shivered, it took all his self control to not run off from this vulnerable moment.

"i‘m also worried." and you sigh so sweetly against him, melting your skilled fingers into his flesh and filling all the cold emptiness within his heart. "i don't want you to worry." his voice almost breaks in midst his sentencing but it's low, his words mumbled, "you could find someone better than me."

it's a graven fear the man held for what felt like an eternity. to see you leave one day due to his weaknesses.

because every time he experiences you taking care of him, yes, xiao does turn embarrassed— his eyes twinkling open wild, but he feels that static, as if he could actually reach the heavens behind the sky.

he suddenly hisses when you began to wrap a small cloth around a bigger wound on his hand, sneakily sealing your lips over his roughened up knuckles to kiss each and every one of them.

"there will never be someone better than you, xiao."

— scaramouche

"how childish."

scaramouche's face was mounted in a discomforting tinge while he gazed at the cute, little, not to mention pink, band aids covering the majority of his face and chest. "shut up."

you shake your head, laughing at your boyfriend's bright, assessing eyes while he hopelessly attempted to wholly conceal the agonizing pain bound within his facial features, keeping them in check with a hard look, brows criss crossed and squeezed together, "you're using too many of those."

"i wouldn't have to if there weren't that many scratches all over you."

but above and beyond, there it was; a crucial, meaningful expression that sneakily slipped past his own eyes— your current state, when you lock away the smallest amount of warm tears glinting nervously, finishing it with a soft smile, not wanting to make scaramouche feel even worse.

what confused you, and, frankly, scared you in the first place was the severe rarity of this situation— it was uncommon for him to get this beat up, this littered up with scratches and bumps, you can still remember the mere seconds earlier, when he showed up in front of your door step— dirty clothes ruptured and ripped, his bottom lip popped open and blood sliding down his chin, eyes low lidded, barely any life behind them.

by all means, scaramouche was doing better now, with the help of you and your quick responses doing wonders. needless to say did he too, catch a glimpse of your distress when you suddenly had stopped mending his wounds.

"hey." he pokes your left cheek, once, twice— "hey," and his comforting, warm voice ever so softly slips past your ears.

"i'll be okay, besides, i will take it as an insult if you think that is enough to end me."

and judging by the hitch of your breath, scaramouche felt a rambling burn deep inside, at nothing but that distraught look on your person. He opens his eyes wide, steady as glass, before sloping his head towards you, a faint, transient smile lightening his bruised face when you lean in to kiss his lips, tenderly, but compelling enough to lift the worry off your shoulders.

— diluc

patience— and the adequate plenitude of pressure were the very two notions you had channeled tonight, with your trembling hands slowly dapping the blood off diluc‘s injuries.

you truly cannot remember the last time he had shown any signs of recklessness in his usual behavior when it came to fending of intruders, so whatever must‘ve happened today had to be of graven importance or a powerful enemy catching him off guard.

"thank you." he suddenly speaks, but averts his eyes, and although his voice was raspy and chill, diluc managed to quickly snap you out of your stinging thoughts. you move to his face, tilting his chin up to catch an ideal view on the main bruises around his left cheek, allowing you to tackle those as well, "for doing this i mean."

at his words, you stop your hand, smiling serenely, almost angelic.

"you don't have to thank me for this."

"—but, do you want to tell me about what happened?"

diluc's face twitches when you retorted back to brush a splotch of dried blood from his jaw— you noticed how his lip was busted open, this thought again, of someone hurting the love of your life, it compared to sharp needles jabbing at your skin, over and over until drilled in its entirety.

but he didn't, diluc would never tell you about anything dangerous, not even when he showed up to your home, looking like that. "i rather not." there it was, that brave smile he'd manage to put on whenever he found himself in a situation like that, regardless, worry gnawed away at you, your gaze piercing through him like a freezing blast of ice.

"yet worry not." all of his attention was on you as he slants close to take your cheeks in his roughened palms, feeling them shake against your skin awakened a murky, dull feeling where you wanted to just cry in his arms, "i'd never let someone hurt you."

sigh, deep down, you wonder if diluc will ever comprehend that seeing him like that was already hurting you, was already pulling the hot air off your seized throat and clenching your heart with dread, feeling as if you could not breathe.

instead, you smile kindly at him, foreheads resting against each other, overcome by a dark sense of silence.

— childe

"hah! you should see the other guy!"

excessive boasting upon boasting, your sweet childe was out here acting like he had just experienced the best day in his entire life— a certain smile, brighter than ever witnessed before, if it wasn‘t for his black eye and bloody nose breaking the illusion he attempted to portray.

however, in contrast, childe found it exceedingly cute and appealing whenever you were severely worried and concerned about him— as is someone was ever able to greatly harm nor scratch the overenthusiastic harbinger. "you really shouldn‘t be this reckless sometimes."

you sigh deeply, then shake your head, mending the bigger wounds with a wet cloth first so they were clean and ready to be wrapped up.

but, important side note, you being brightly concerned for him made his heart flutter unexpectedly and childe suddenly expels a large wave of pride, "but you love it when i'm reckless."

"i do not."

"you don't?!" his smirk fades.

"i want you to be save." you kiss the corner of his mouth, and a vast deal of weariness sweeps over you, claiming your energy with it when you remember that this wasn't possible.

ajax was a harbinger after all.

his voice, now thick of seriousness, greets you closely, "don't worry about me." he speaks so idly, listlessly and without a care in the world, as if he doesn't care about his own wellbeing. and it left a bitterness littering on the tip of your tongue.

"because as long as you have everything in your life, i too will be fulfilled." with that, childe kisses you, all around passionate, needful and telling. on the assumption that he longed to show you his determination to protect you in a different way than solely using his own choice of words.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[azrielslittleslut]

Rhys x F!Reader

Lingerie with Rhys (Drabble)

Warnings: NSFW, mostly teasing, mention of pegging if you squint

Word Count: 741

a/n: i don't know how i feel about this one... hope you guys like it!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You peeked around the corner of the kitchen wall, your eyes searching the room for your mate. You found him sitting in the chair in front of his brothers, his head bent down over a stack of papers as he discussed only the Mother knows what with them.

Cassian and Azriel were in the chairs closest to the kitchen, their backs to you. You had shielded your scent with your magic, so they didn't know you were there. Even Azriel's nosy shadows would be unable to detect your presence. At least that's what you hoped.

Rhys was lounging in the chair farthest away from where you stood, but he had a perfect view of the kitchen wall where you were.

Perfect. Right where you wanted him.

Rhys had been so busy with High Lord matters recently, and you could see the toll it was taking on him. He never slept or ate, and he barely made the time to make love to you anymore.

You weren't mad at him, of course, but you missed him. You wanted to do something special to take his mind off of his stressors, and you had found the perfect thing while you were shopping earlier today.

You stepped around the wall, just enough to get Rhys's attention. His violet eyes met yours, and he offered you a small, tired smile. He quickly returned his attention to the papers, his mind more than likely making battle plans or creating new trade routes.

Now, that just won't do.

With a smile on your face, you untied the sheer robe around your body, moving it off your shoulders until it hit the ground in a pile of black lace. Beneath it, you wore a new lingerie set of deep purple, one that Rhys hadn't seen before.

The bra had delicate lace cups adorned with crystals that looked like stars. It was completely see-through, and your nipples hardened as they came into contact with the chilly air. The straps were also filled with crystals, sitting perfectly on your shoulders, outlining the collarbones that Rhys loved to mark with hickeys.

The matching panties were also made of purple lace, and it was barely enough material to cover your pussy and ass. Around your stomach, you had tied a purple bow, intending for you to be a present for Rhys to unwrap as a gift for his hard work. You had paired the whole ensemble with a set of shiny black stilettos, the heels lengthening your perfect legs.

You leaned seductively against the wall, arching your back just enough for Rhys to see your ass. Rhys, you said into his mind, your voice a caress. Come to bed.

In a minute, darling. We just need to finish the last few papers. Rhys's mental voice was absolute, giving you no room for argument. But you didn't care. Not when your sleep-and sex-deprived mate was sitting there, the tension in his shoulders so tight you could see it from across the room.

Fine, you murmured. I guess I'll just go enjoy this new lingerie I got by myself.

At that. Rhys's eyes head shot up, his wings twitching as he drank in your body like a glass of water. Darling. You look... fucking amazing.

Now, you could smell the arousal wafting off him, and so could Cass and Az. "Damn, brother," the former grumbled, his nose twitching. "I didn't know paperwork would get you off like that."

Az chuckled. "It's not the paperwork, Cass," he said. "You know that scent blocker doesn't work against my shadows, right?"

Damn that nosy shadowsinger.

"What-" Cassian started, his head turning to look behind him.

Rhys snarled. "If you look behind you, I will rip your fucking head off, Cassian."

Damn baby, you crooned into Rhys's mind. So worked up. Let me make you feel good.

Rhys's jaw twitched, a sign that he was considering the consequences of giving up on the paperwork. He just needed one more thing to persuade him...

I got the dildo we were looking at, you said, already turning around to head back to your bedroom. You know, the one that you said you wanted me to fuck-

You ran as you heard Rhys's chair hit the ground, his feet already carrying him over to you. You laughed as he caught you and winnowed you to the bedroom, ready and willing to see what all you had in store for him tonight.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

Kinktober tag list: @littlest-w01f @fourthwing4ever

@huff-le-puff-puff-pass @halo-hanging @velarisnightsky444 @whyshouldihaveanam3

[kpop---scenarios]

It's You

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Warning: Violence, Smut, Unprotected Smut [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This sucks, and I know that, plz don't hate on me too much. Trying to get my groove back lolol

“You're not going.” San says, crossing his arms, standing in front of your front door.

You laugh as you grab your purse from your table, slipping on your heels. “San, it's just a date. We're only going to get a drink.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Y/N. Mingi is in a frat.” San sighs. “Those guys are douchebags.”

“Aren't you also in a frat?” You giggle. San scoffs. “Yeah, that's how I know. Anyways it's besides the point. I'm not a douchebag. And I had something I wanted to tell you tonight…” he trails off.

“Stay here. I'll be back in a bit and then we can talk.” You say, giving him a small peck on his cheek. He groans as he moves out of the way, watching the girl he was so fucking in love with, walk out the door to a man he knows is only going out with her for one reason.

You smile and laugh to yourself as you walk to the bar, thinking about how San was acting. The only reason you were going out with Mingi tonight was because you were tired of waiting for San to make a move on you. You have had a crush on him for at least the last year, and you knew he liked you too but he never did anything. While you could make a move on him, you wanted him to be the one to do it, and honestly Mingi was the perfect way for this to happen.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Mingi smiles as you walk up to the table. He's already got a couple drinks on the table in front of him. He must have gotten here early and started drinking right away. You were beginning to second guess your decision to go out with him, especially after 5 minutes, he moved seats to sit beside you, his hand resting on your knee. You had barely finished one drink, while Mingi was on his fourth and with every sentence, every sip, his hand inched up your bare leg a little more. You made a poor choice in wearing a skirt today.

“Can you move your hand please?” You ask, looking down at it now half way up your leg.

“Move it up? Yeah I can.” He chuckles, doing just that.

“No, move it off.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, c'mon, don't be like that.” He chuckles, leaving his hand on your leg.

You roll your eyes, grabbing your class to take another sip of your drink. The second the glass touches the table, Mingi leans in, trying to kiss you.

“What the fuck. Get off of me.” You yell, pushing him away. “You're out of your fucking mind.” You snap.

“Don't be a fucking prude.” He spits, trying to kiss you again.

“Do your fucking ears not work?” You hear from behind you, when suddenly Mingi is ripped off of you. You look up, shocked, seeing San hovering over Mingi.

“No, means fucking no! Or were you not taught fucking manners.” San yells, landing another punch onto Mingi's face.

“San! San, stop. Stop, please.” You say, grabbing his arm. He instantly relaxes, letting you pull him back.

“You ever go near her again, I'll fucking kill you.” San spits, turning around to look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?” You ask, looking over his body to make sure he's not injured.

He just stares at you before he squats down, quickly and swiftly, throwing you over his shoulder. “San!” You giggle, playfully trying to fight to have him put you down. He takes you out of the bar, walking down the street until he turns into the alley. San sets you down, pushing you against the brick wall.

“What's going on?” You whisper, looking him in the eyes.

“I'm so fucking in love with you, Y/N.” He sighs, smacking his hand against the brick, leaning in closer to you. You smile widely, biting your lip as San breathes heavily, inching closer.

“Finally.” You breathe, just before San crashes his lips onto yours, pressing his body against you. You move your hand between you and San, moving it to his stomach, inching your way down to his crotch. You feel the bulge in his pants growing with each desperate pant, as he slides his tongue into your mouth. San doesn't say anything as he pulls away. He turns you around, pressing your face against the brick wall as he hikes up your skirt. He kneels down, gently and slowly pulling your panties down your legs, making you step out of them before he shoves them in his pocket. You hear the jingle of his belt being unbuckled as you gasp against the wall, desperately waiting for whatever San was going to do with you. You feel San press up against you once more, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. You do as you're told, spreading your legs as you feel San's fingers lightly graze against your cunt before he pushes his fingers deep inside of you.

“Fuck.” You gasp. San presses up against you again, breathing heavily into your ear as he thrusts his fingers deeper inside of you. He groans as he feels you clenching around his fingers. His cock twitches in his pants, urgently wanting to be buried in you.

As quickly as it began it ended, San pulls his fingers out of you, pulling his cock out, using your juices to lube himself up. He lines himself up with you, pushing his cock into you. You let out a small squeak, trying to stifle your moans. San wraps his arm around your head, covering your mouth with his hand as he thrusts faster and harder. You move your hand between your lips, rubbing your clit fast.

“Such a good girl.” He groans. “You take my cock so fucking well.” He moans into your ear, pushing himself inside of you deeper.

“Mhmmm.” You moan, his hand pressing harder against your mouth.

“Quiet down, baby.” He grunts.

Your hand moves faster on your clit, your orgasm building with each thrust of San. He releases your mouth, grabbing a clump of hair, pulling your head back. You can't stay quiet any longer, pant loudly, screaming out as you cum, hard. “Oh…my fucking… god.” You scream out, clenching around his cock. San’s pace increases, ramming himself into you, his orgasm right behind yours.

“Shit.” He cries out, cumming, shooting his load deep inside you.

He thrusts gently, milking himself for everything he has. He pulls out of you, cum seeping down your leg as he pulls your skirt down before he tucks his cock back into his underwear and pants. He pulls you from against the wall and into his arms.

“I'm so happy.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Me too.” You whisper, holding him tightly.

“Come on, let's get you home.” He says, pulling away from you, but you hold onto him.

“Yes please… but I'm gonna need you to carry me again.” You whisper, your knees buckling. “I can't walk.”

San laughs as he throws you over his shoulder again, smacking your ass as he makes his way to his car.

“I can't wait to make you not walk again, later.”

[icaruspendragon]

remember in 1x12 (faith) when dean has the conversation with the faith healer and he says, "why? why me? out of all the sick people, why save me?" and the healer answers, "well, like i said before, the lord guides me. i looked into your heart and you just... stood out from all the rest." and dean asks, "what did you see in my heart?" and the faith healer answers, "a young man with an important purpose- a job to do. and it isn't finished."

and then remember when in 2x13 (houses of the holy) when sam asks dean, "why can't you even consider the possibility?" and dean says "what, that this is an angel?" and sam says "yes. maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop. maybe this is god's will." and then dean says "okay. all right. you know what? i get it. you've got faith. that's -- hey, that's good for you. i'm sure it makes things easier. i'll tell you who else had faith like that -- mom. she used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. in fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me." and sam says, "you never told me that." and dean responds, "what's to tell? she was wrong. there was nothing protecting her. there's no higher power. there's no god. there's just chaos and violence. and random, unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. so you want me to believe in this stuff? i'm gonna need to see some hard proof. you got any?"

and then remember in 4x01 (lazarus rising) when dean meets castiel and asks "who are you?" and castiel says, "i'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." and then again dean asks, "who are you?" and castiel responds, "castiel." and dean says, "yeah i figured that much, i mean what are you?" and cas says, "i'm an angel of the lord." and dean says, "get the hell out of here. there's no such thing." and cas shows him the fearsome wrath of heaven and later dean says, "look pal i'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" and cas says, "i told you." and dean says, "right. and why would an angel, rescue me from hell?" and cas tells him, "good things do happen, dean." and dean says, "not in my experience." and cas asks him, "what's the matter?" and then tells him, "you don't think you deserve to be saved." and dean asks, "why'd you do it?" and cas tells him "because god commanded it. because we have work for you."

and then remember when in 4x16 (on the head of a pin) when cas is talking to dean in the hospital and dean asks, "is it true? did i start all of this?" and cas has to say, "yes. when we discovered lilith's plan for you... we laid siege to hell, and we fought our way to get to you before you --" and dean cuts in to say "jump-started the apocalypse." and cas' gaze turns skyward as he says, "but we were too late." and dean asks, "why didn't you just leave me there, then?" and cas, with eyes still upward says, "it's not... blame that falls on you, dean. it's fate." and cas turns his gaze downward once more as he says, "and the righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it." and then he turns to dean, looking at him for the first time, and says, "you have to stop it." and dean asks, "lucifer? the apocalypse? what does that mean?" and cas looks away from him and says nothing so dean says, "hey. don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. what does that mean?" and cas is staring resolutely forward as he says, "i don't know." and dean exclaims "bull!" and cas once more says, "i don't." before looking at dean again and saying, "dean, they don't tell me much. i know... how our fate rests with you." and then dean, with tears in his eyes says, "well, then you guys are screwed." and then he says, "i can't do it, cas. it's too big." and then he says, "alastair was right. i'm not all here. i'm not -- i'm not strong enough." and then cas looks back and dean and dean looks away from cas for the first time since the conversation started and says, "well, i guess i'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be." and cas looks away and dean says "find someone else. it's not me." and the tears dean has been trying so hard to hold back finally fall.

anyway. i just thought all of that was kinda interesting.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

[vintagegirl01]

A Christmas Wrap

Steven Grant x female reader

Summary: Steven can’t wrap Christmas presents correctly. Good thing he has you to help him.

You walk in to find Steven sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by wrapping paper, tape, and several gift-wrapped boxes of various sizes. He's focused intently on trying to wrap another present, but it's not going well. Every attempt he makes seems to end up in a messy mess of paper and sticky tape. Frustration is starting to build up on his face.

Not wanting to see the love of your life upset, you decide to catch his attention. “Hey, baby? What’s wrong?”

Steven looks up from his wrapping job gone wrong and sighs in frustration.

"Bloody hell, this gift wrapping is just not cooperating with me. I can't seem to get it right, and I'm about to tear my hair out."

“Would you like some help?”

Steven looks up at you, a mix of frustration and gratitude on his face. He nods and lets out a sigh.

"Yes, please. I'm terrible at this. I don't seem to have the knack for making gifts look like they came from a professional wrapping shop."

You smile at him. “It doesn’t need to look professional. It just has to look somewhat decent until they are opened on Christmas Day. Remember, they are to be unwrapped anyway.”

Steven looks at you and smiles a bit sheepishly.

"You're right, I suppose it doesn't really matter how perfect the wrapping is. Everyone's going to rip it open in a few days anyway. I guess I just want them to look nice."

He hands you the present he was trying to wrap, along with the wrapping paper and tape roll.

You kneel down to sit next to him on the floor. “My family is going to love you because I love you. Therefore, they shouldn’t judge you too harshly on this. If not, I’ll personally talk to them about it. Okay?”

Steven chuckles a bit, feeling reassured by your words. He smiles gratefully at you.

"Thanks, love. I guess I'm just a bit nervous about making a good impression on your family. I want them to approve of me, especially since I'm meeting them for the first time. But you're right, they'll love me because you love me, and that's all that should matter."

You smile. “That’s the spirit! Now, let me show you how to wrap presents more easily.”

Steven watches intently as you show him how to wrap the presents with ease, effortlessly laying the paper out and neatly folding and taping the edges. His eyes widen a bit in wonder as you effortlessly wrap the gift he was struggling with just moments ago.

"Blimey, you make it look so easy. I had no idea there were tricks to this. My wrapping skills are abysmal in comparison to yours."

”At one time, I didn’t know how to do this either. Therefore, I always used gift bags.However, it eventually got to a point where I realized I couldn’t use gift bags for everything. Therefore, I learned from watching others, as well as a bit of trial and error of my own. ”

You then take another gift from the side to get Steven to wrap. “Now you try. I’ll guide you using my hands.”

Steven takes the gift from your hands and follows your instructions, wrapping the paper with your hands gently guiding him.

"All right, I'll give it a go."

He carefully unfolds the wrapping paper, lays it down, then folds the edges neatly and tapes them together, all while your hands are guiding him along the way.

Steven can't help but smile at the comparison to the iconic Ghost scene. The sensation of your hands guiding him brings a sense of connection and intimacy as you work together. As he finishes wrapping the present, he looks up at you, pleased with the result.

"I think we make quite the team, don't we? I never thought wrapping gifts could be so... enjoyable."

“I’m happy to help. If you don’t need anymore help, I’ll leave you to it.”

Steven glances back at the pile of presents still waiting to be wrapped, then back to you with a warm smile.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind a bit more of your company. This task feels a lot more enjoyable with you by my side. Besides, there's no telling what kind of wrapping disasters may occur if you leave me alone."

You give him a quizzical look. “What kind of disasters?”

Steven grins sheepishly."Oh, just the classic wrapping chaos. Tape sticking where it shouldn't, paper ripping, bows falling apart... the list goes on. I can be a bit clumsy when left to my own devices, you know."

You shake your head in amusement at your boyfriend’s silliness. “You’re not hopeless, my love. Nevertheless, how could I ever refuse us having time together?”

Steven chuckles warmly, appreciating your understanding and good natured attitude.

"True, I suppose I'm not completely hopeless. But spending time with you is always a pleasure, so I'm glad you'll stay. Now, shall we continue this merry wrapping adventure together?"

You nod eagerly, leaning into kiss Steven. Steven leans into your kiss, enjoying the tender moment. As the two of you continue wrapping presents together, the evening passes by in a blur of paper, laughter, and the occasional wrapping mishaps.

Despite the mishaps, the atmosphere is filled with warmth and companionship. It's a reminder that even mundane tasks can become treasured memories when shared with the right person.

Taglist:

@autismsupermusicalassassin

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@missdictatorme

@emma23

@clemdango04

@lunalockley

@bit-dodgy-innit

@angel-of-the-moons

@ominoose

@melodygatesauthor

@juneknight

@female-hysterics

@reallyrallyauthor

@faretheeoscar

@official-mr-knight

[two-bees-poetry]

4!

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

Oh... oh I'm so bad at picking just one, so I'll give you a long list, I guess.

"he is our brother; he never let me play alone. i miss him and i miss him and now he'll never know." this test of the mountain

"i crack myself open, blood floods from the mountain; i will fix this with my bare hands." this test of the mountain

"i miss you / i hate you again / i'll make you eat it raw like revenge" are you hungry (medea, alone)

"i hold enough inside of me, crying over a biography" i have no words (macduff, a girl)

"i build myself with ichor from your veins / sink teeth into the parts that i love most. / i am become a weapon of remains- / if i can't have you here, i'll have your ghost." i am become

"damned are those who bear the witch's mark- / i love you; please don't leave me in the dark." i am become

"i'm done asking- done asking (i hate this part) can i come home for forgiveness. dad. dad. dad. will you be kind this time?" can i come home?

"you know i'm right, you men- you know this well, / but you have your pride, and village talk is cheap. / hear- i can hear- i can feel my death knell. / i can hear you when you call me infidel." village girl's villanelle

"open, like an animal, raw like a whipped dog. like a bruised throat, something that won't die." my voice is in my sword

"deny me salvation, but don't let me die running." my voice is in my sword

"it's like a snake eating its own tail when they talk, his sentences picking up where hers finish. he has an easy laugh and a smile like a serrated knife. nobody likes who the two of them are becoming, but nobody can stop it, like a hurricane ripping through the south." stages of a king waging war on his daughters

"cordelia's new favorite word is JUSTICE. she demands it from the world, screaming herself hoarse at rallies, slowly realizing that she is a young woman marching in the rain, turning fury into change." stages of a king waging war on his daughters

"i look like dad. she looks at me and sees him. i look at her and see a punishment." a house tour from electra

"you ask her if she plans to leave. she unwraps another lollipop and sticks it in her mouth. if this house doesn't collapse by itself, i'm gonna burn it to the fucking ground." a house tour from electra

[noellawrites]

The Concert - Yandere!Marcus White x Younger!reader

summary: Marcus seizes an opportunity to join you at a concert, but gets jealous when he realizes you have a crush on the lead singer. Marcus does what he has to to make sure you go home with the right guy tonight.

warnings: alcohol use, non/dub-con touching, kissing and fingering, age gap (15-ish years), possessiveness

requested by: @wicked1will0sparkles

Ever since your first day at Cloud 9 when you had met Cheyenne, the two of you barely went anywhere without the other.

You two were close in age, always had weekly sleepovers and you had been right by her side when she took the pregnancy test that ended up positive.

So you were completely devastated when she bailed on your sacred, long-anticipated plans for Bo of all people.

“Cheyenne, come on! We bought these tickets like three months ago and my parents won’t let me go alone!” you whine, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration as you lean against the lockers.

“I’m sorry (y/n), but Bo needs me right now! Who else is gonna hype him up before he gets on stage at Kenny Roper’s bar mitzvah?” she explains with a frown as her hand rests on her bulging stomach.

“Ugh okay, I guess I’ll just sneak out and hope my parents don’t notice,” you shrug.

After Cheyenne walked away, you shove a hand into your locker and feel around for your blue vest, tugging it out angrily.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?” you hear a voice ask from behind you. You look to your side, then slightly up, where Marcus White stood next to you with his arms crossed across his broad chest, a concerned expression on his face.

“Oh, I was just supposed to see my favorite band tonight, Shattered Hearts. Chey and I were going together but she had to cancel,” you explain sourly.

“Oh man, I love Shattered Hearts!” Marcus exclaims with a dopey grin.

Truthfully, he'd never listened to the band before. But he wasn't going to miss out on his chance to spend an entire night alone with you.

After you both finished your shifts for the day, you parted ways. You had planned to meet at the small downtown venue once you got changed and ready for the night.

Later on, you gleefully rummaged through your closet, trying to pick out the perfect outfit. Shattered Hearts' lead singer, Tommy Valentine, would be front and center like always so of course you planned on wearing a Tommy-inspired outfit. Ripped white tights, short shorts and a low-cut top (covered by a long coat) and your favorite jewelry pieces to complete the look.

You went for a heavier makeup look than usual, as Shattered Hearts was in the pop-glam-rock vein. It couldn't hurt, making yourself look a bit older and hopefully catching Tommy's eye if you could get close enough to the stage.

"I'm going to the concert with my co-worker tonight so don't worry, I'll be safe!" you yell to your parents as you make your way out of the house and into the evening air.

Once you arrive at the venue, you see Marcus standing outside, leaning against the wall. He immediately brightens up and you don't miss the way his eyes rake over your body from top to bottom.

"Hey, (y/n)! You look... wow!" he laughs, a blush heating up his cheeks. He can't help but look your body up and down once more, taking in the way your white tights stretch over your thighs and your top hugs your body in just the right ways.

"Thanks, Marcus! Here's your ticket," you say, handing him the ticket that was supposed to be Cheyenne's.

"I'm really excited to hear Breathless," you sigh, walking up to the end of the line as Marcus follows.

"Uh, yeah, me too. I'm like— I'm just excited to hear their newest album," he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? This is the anniversary tour for the Rock Solid album, I don't think they'll be performing much of their new stuff," you frown.

Marcus is saved by the security personnel, approaching you both and patting you down as you entered the doorway and handed your tickets to the employee.

"Damn, this place is dark," Marcus laughs, looking around as you step in together.

"C'mon, I wanna get close to the front!" you exclaim, grabbing Marcus' hand and pulling him with you towards the stage.

He barely has time to process your hand on his as he follows you across the dirty, dim room.

"This is perfect, he'll definitely see me here," you say with a smile, looking up at the rusty light above you that illuminated your area. You leaned against the wooden pole next to you which supported the shabby balcony above.

Marcus raises an eyebrow. He? Who was he? Marcus was hoping to at least kiss you tonight, but were you already obsessed with some other guy?

"I'll go get us some drinks," he says, gesturing towards the bar.

"Oh, thanks! I'll keep our spot," you smile, looking down and adjusting your outfit to show off even more skin than it already was. Did you know what you were doing to Marcus? How his skin buzzed whenever you touched, how he imagined leaning down and kissing your lips? How desperately he wanted his hands all over you?

He fumed as he headed over to the bar, ordering some cheap beers and shots of vodka. Who was this asshole you were so obsessed with?

When Marcus returns, you knock back your shots together. Some men in black tee shirts bring equipment onto the stage as the sound of applause echoes through the room.

"So, uh, this guy you want to see you... did you invite someone else tonight?" he asks, trying not to sound like a jerk.

"No, I just think this is the best spot for Tommy Valentine to see me. He's single, just broke up with Maxine McDonald. Did you know the band's guitarist met his girlfriend because she was a fan at one of his shows?" you say excitedly, watching the stage.

Of course. The jerk you were obsessed with was the band's lead singer. Marcus couldn't help but roll his eyes, thankful that you were turned away from him.

"C'mon, drink up. I'll go grab us some more," Marcus says, playfully tilting your beer up in the direction of your mouth. He would need to be a lot drunker if he was gonna watch you lust over some punk poser all night.

By the time Shattered Hearts came onstage, you and Marcus had already finished several drinks. Marcus felt fine, but you already felt woozy, tipsy, almost falling over a few times. Marcus caught you of course, and you leaned on his body as to not embarrass yourself further.

Marcus went to grab another beer for himself, and when he returned, you were clinging onto the wooden pole.

"This one's my favorite," you mumble as Marcus cracks open his fourth beer.

"Yeah? Is it?" he asks, an amused expression on his face.

You nod dumbly and Marcus wraps his warm arm around your waist, the drinks emboldening him.

He looks down at you, your beautiful face illuminated by the dim lighting. He just couldn't help himself anymore. Marcus leans down, pressing his lips to yours and deepening the kiss into a make-out session as your brain catches up and you start to realize what's happening.

His tongue pushes into your mouth, silencing your protests as he traces his warm hands over your shirt. You almost think you're having a bad dream until you hear someone nearby say, "eww!"

It's only as his hands move into your shorts that you're able to push him off of you. He recoils, staring at you with a pissed-off expression.

"Wh-what was that, Marcus?" you exclaim, putting your hands out in front of you to keep him at a distance.

"I thought we—"

"I told you, I'm interested in Tommy!"

"He's way too old for you," Marcus hisses.

"So are you!" you huff, crossing your arms.

"I'll go get us more drinks," he sighs, realizing you've both sobered up a bit.

When he returns, you're miraculously still there, eyes fixed on Tommy.

Marcus keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the concert, suffering more and more as each song thrums and passes. The band wasn't even that good and Tommy Valentine was just some forty-something, washed-up guitarist with eyeliner.

After the concert, Marcus heads to the exit but is surprised that your small hand manages to pull him back.

"We're staying. Tommy usually comes out afterwards if he sees someone he likes. And I definitely seduced him with my eyes. Will you get us a round of shots for when he comes out?" you ask, waving Marcus away as you watch the curtains for any sign of movement.

Twenty minutes pass, the venue almost cleared out and heavy with the stink of sweat. Your shots sit untouched as you slump down in your seat.

"You wanna go outside?" Marcus asks tenatively.

You shake your head like a petulant toddler.

"You... wanna finish these off?" he asks, gesturing to the shots.

You nod, sitting upright and taking all three shots consecutively. It had sunk in now that Tommy didn't see anything special in you, hadn't been wowed by your sexy outfit or your eyes or how you knew every word to every song.

Almost immediately, you slump sideways against Marcus and he rests his arm against you comfortingly.

"Let's get some fresh air," he sighs, leading you outside where you lean against the brick wall, fighting the urge to pass out.

"You look amazing tonight. It's Tommy's loss," Marcus says, hand stroking your arm.

You look up at him, tears in your eyes, mouth framed in a pout to either keep the tears from falling or the vomit from escaping.

Marcus sighs, leaning down and bridging the gap between you. You return the kiss in your own sloppy, half-conscious way. One of his hands plunges into your shorts as the other makes it's way up underneath your shirt.

You're mumbling, moaning, making some sort of noise with your mouth but his mouth covering yours muffles it.

Marcus can't wait any longer, mouth drifting down your neck and chest, sucking and leaving marks of his affections.

"N-n—stop—" you mumble, hands awkwardly trying to pull him closer or push him away, you weren't fully sure.

"Fuck," Marcus mumbles against your chest, causing a gasp to rise up your throat. His fingers trace your hole, spreading around your wetness as you let out a whimper.

"God, I wanna fuck you so badly," he groans, grabbing your waist and sucking on a new spot of skin.

"M-marcus— I-I should go huh—home—" you mumble.

He pulls away and examines his work with a big, dopey smile. You were so messed up, clothing rumpled, hair undone, love bites all over your neck and chest.

He turns you and leads you to a reflective window, and you gasp at the look of yourself. So many hickeys that your coat couldn't even cover. You looked... like a slut.

"I—I can't go home like this! My parents will kill me!" you whimper.

"You can come to my place, my mom'll love you," Marcus offers.

"Uh— no, that's—“

"I'm not letting you walk somewhere alone. Come with me and we can take the bus to work tomorrow," Marcus suggests, raising his eyebrow.

"Ugh, fine," you sigh, leaning against Marcus as he walks the two of you to his mom's house.

You try your best to ignore Marcus' childish, messy room and dirty sheets as you undress and climb in next to him, still feeling drunk and used up.

You hold back a shriek as he pulls you into his chest, body flush against him. "This is nice, huh? My perfect toy," he laughs, kissing your bare shoulder. You shudder at his touches and objectification of you.

"Marcus, stop," you sigh, and his grasp loosens, but not forever. You know he'd be pulling you close in the middle of the night and you had half a mind to sleep on the dirty floor.

The next morning, you borrow one of Mrs. White's long-sleeved shirts for work but it still doesn't cover everything. You walk into Cloud 9 beside Marcus, embarrassed and red-faced.

Marcus throws an arm around you, and when you get to the break-room, he pulls you into his lap as all of your co-workers stare.

"Pretty epic, huh? Got 'em all to myself," Marcus grins, placing a big hand on your thigh and rubbing it creepily.

"Uh, (y/n), your neck—" Cheyenne stutters, eyes wide at the confusing scene before her.

"Yeah, it was all me. We had a pretty crazy night last night. You were all over me, begging for it, huh?" Marcus brags, leaning back and bumping fists with Isaac as he passes by the two of you.

You keep your eyes fixed on the ground, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You were quite a catch in the store, everyone knew it, and now Marcus was asserting his dominance at having made you his.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

chasing infinity

@howlsofbloodhounds for you my most enabling moot. i think this is way harder to write than anything i've written before so...

shamelessly ripping off arrival (2016) and story of your life. go watch/read it!!

(cw: suicidal ideation, abuse)

chara is about to turn their back on me as they excitedly go on and on about another game that they've thought of. i want to imprint every detail of this moment in my mind. the cadence of their cheerful speech, the unsuspecting smile on their face, the weight of my knife hidden in the sleeves of my jacket.

this is it. this is when it will all change. an end of a story, and a beginning of another one.

years from now, you'll have heard of this moment recounted by me. we will be sitting in a cafe at the corner of a small street as i finish my story. i will laugh at the gobsmacked expression on your face, and you'll splutter, your rainbow-colored flames sparkling like fireworks.

"what type of story is that?" you'll ask me.

"a tragedy," i'll say, sipping on my piping hot milk coffee. "as life is wont to be."

you'll argue that reality is not a story with a definitive end, and i'll humor you. i can't help but wonder though, what the genre of our story is. i've been wondering for a while. i know how the story will end - i've known for a while. in thousands of you's and me's out there, our story repeats itself over and over again, but i don't think i was, am, and will be tired of it. i wish i could tell you about our story some day, but we'll never have the chance.

i haven't understood how to feel about it, and i doubt i will ever do either.

i guess it is cliche to start the story at the very beginning, but maybe it is warranted. it was disorienting - the moment of birth. the softness of the golden flowers enveloped me, but it was small comfort in the face of the pain shooting across my body. everything about it felt wrong - the broken joints, the hollow face, the nakedness. and yet, it was right.

people say babies are born with limited eyesight that develop slowly after time. but i am doomed to forever be cocooned in infancy - a broken prototype of a being, just good enough to be allowed to exist with the rest of the world.

chara didn't mind me. "hello, partner," they said to me, minutes after i started to exist. i couldn't see them, only able to hear to voice so close to my head. "are you ready for the rest of your life?"

the secret is, i'm always ready. like that one time your friend delta will begrudgingly invite both of us to a hangout, i'll grab an umbrella on my way out. delta will look at me strangely.

"it's scorching today. what are you taking an umbrella for?" he'll ask.

"killer often has a sixth sense when it comes to unexpected things," you'll chime in for me. "and it doesn't hurt being prepared."

delta will squint his eyes at me, who will sport a not-so-innocent smile. "really?"

"really," you'll say before i can say anything, knowing that i'd cause a scene just outside the door just to rile the hotheaded skeleton monster up. "let's just go now, shall we?"

we'll leave our house that we'll have chosen together just three months before. the food at the bar that delta will bring us to will be just average, but you'll enjoy the atmosphere too much for me to say any disparaging comments. we'll sit together in a secluded booth - just the two of us - listening to terrible music and watching as the first snow rain fall down on the street. your hand will hold mine as i'll put my head on your shoulders, finally still.

waterfall is chara's favorite place to visit after new home. there is that one statue in the rainy corridor that they like to visit from time to time, most of the times without me. it is easy to tell that is a weakness to look into, but for some reasons i always refrained myself from doing so. too late now anyway.

like usual, chara took two umbrellas in the bin but neither of them was for me. i was ordered to leave them for an indefinite amount of time, and of course i had to be productive during that free time: finding flowey, finding the remaining survivors, finding new ways to entertain chara.

i went to the echo flower field this time. the usual scripted dialogue lines repeated themselves over and over across the field. i was trying to find anything new, anything that would indicate another change in this game, in this script, that would intrigue chara. this time, i found one.

"hey, do you think we're stuck here forever?"

"why would you think so?"

"... i don't know. it's just a feeling i have lately. everything's been too much."

"... yeah, i understand what you mean. but hey! maybe this won't be the end! maybe we'll get through this." a strained laughter followed. "come on, you're such a pessimist. it's good to practice some radical optimism once in a while, you know?"

"maybe. it's just difficult to have hope when everything is so, well, hopeless." silence. and then, "if you knew this would happen, what would you have done differently?"

"hmm i don't know-"

"-maybe i'd have tried to visit people i love more. tell them what i feel before, well, this happened."

"that's all you'd do?"

"like i said! i don't know what i'd have done. you're the one randomly asking me this!"

"mmmm sorry..."

"hey, no need to apologize. i know you're just as anxious about this as i am."

"don't want to make you feel sad, habibi."

"i'm not. being with you, it's the best thing to happen to me. i wouldn't have done anything differently."

it will be a full four years after we start to live together that you say the word. and i'll freeze. the world will stop as if waiting for what i'll say back to you.

"i love you too," i'll say, and you'll beam, arms carefully hugging my smaller body. i don't know what emotions i'll be feeling at that moment. logically, happiness. most likely, guilt.

i'll be thinking about what i think right now, and i'll laugh at it.

the medics will tell me that it is an inevitable conclusion of your condition, that they are extremely sorry for me to hear this. i'll tell them it's all fine, that i've expected this. and i'll know they won't believe me.

i know illnesses like i know my own body and soul - there's no difference between them. i remember the way the insides of my body burned for the first time, the agony, the delirium. it felt wrong, but it was so right at the same time. this was how i was supposed to be - this is how i will always be. and i've accepted that a long time ago.

chara once used my body as a flower bed. strangely, it was one of the most peaceful game they played with me. just lie there in the dirt and play dead - easy enough. the way the dirt was deposited into my skeleton frame was uncomfortable, but thankfully not painful. chara has always been interested in gardening, but they lack the patience for it. but this time, as they said, this time they would get it right.

"what do you want to grow?" i'd asked them before all of this, as i prepared to lie down in the pit i'd dug for myself with my bare fingers. it'd taken a long while, and my fingers were all sore and dirty by the time i was done.

"buttercups," chara hummed. "i miss them around here. asgore never has them anymore."

i didn't question how chara knew. i didn't question why they cared. i just accepted the answer as it was and plopped my body beneath the dirt. chara had taken care to put my soul somewhere else. somewhere safe. it was nice of them to do so, i thought.

my body, with all its needs, was nothing but a burden anyway.

i don't know if being with you will fix me. i don't know if you care about it. i don't understand you, truly. i wonder if i will.

but i don't have infinite time to think. the world doesn't stop when i languish in thoughts. i'll have infinite time later, but never now.

so i'll remember this moment - this last moment between me and a dead child who has been here for too long. i knew this would happen, that everything would come to this point. and then after this, there will be more to come. there will always be more to come. so i hold my knife above chara's head as their back is fully turned. after them, there will be another, then another, then another, then one day it will be you.

i can't wait to see you.

[jesuis-assez]

We know that Lucy calls Tim babe (I refuse to use past tense I’m in denial lol), if you could have your way, what would Tim call Lucy as a pet name? #ChenfordChats

Hmm... I think I'd melt if he called her 'Baby' or 'Sweetheart' I have a soft spot for those ones. I don't know what that's about. I don't want to go there 🤣

And if I think of moments where those terms of endearments could've been used:

6x04:

When he rushed to the hospital and comforted her by touching her head ever so gently. Him softly telling her, "My god, you didn't have to take my hero suggestion so literally" If we were to replace "my god" with "sweetheart" or "baby" ?? 👌

6x06: ( Everyone put your pitchforks down and hear me out ) 🤣

If he said "I'm sorry, baby" or 'sweetheart' right before kissing her forehead. Although, I'm not sure how it would have fit exactly in the scene. But, I wouldn't object to it. It actually was one of my favourite scenes of theirs in season six. It had everything for me. It ripped me apart emotionally and left me wanting more. I loved it, no sarcasm here. I'm being genuine.

The scene itself is already packed with so much angst. But, then there would be them holding hands, " I'm sorry, [term of endearment]" and a forehead kiss in there. We're already on the ground dying and that would just finish us off.

In 6x03:

Lucy is over preparing for her detective exam with Tim being so amazing and supportive.

What he said here was truly enough and It doesn't matter so much that a sweetheart wasn't at the end of him saying 'yourself', but I would've loved it even more. I thought him saying that to her was a huge thing to say, coming from someone who ALWAYS needs to feel in control.

Because Lucy was so far in her head with it. So much that she had been projecting all of her self-doubt onto Tim. She couldn't see that he was being supportive, because it's not like her parents were ever supportive of her career. She's never had that support.

Yes, Lucy. And not even yourself, either.

That's what she was doing. Listening to that voice in her head telling her that she isn't good enough. That she's not ready and she can't do it. And Tim being her number 1 supporter was there reminding her not to do that. After all... he had taught her not to.

And to see her going back into that mind-set, to see Lucy filling herself with all that self-doubt again? To second guess herself again... It must be hard to watch someone you love, spiral like that. To try and help them through it and no matter what you say or do, it only pushes them further to burning out.

I focused heavily on season 6 for examples. Even if he were just to say, "Are you okay, baby?" I am aware that he said 'baby' to Isabel before (When she got shot in the head) but, that doesn't mean shit here 🤣 It's obviously a term he has been comfortable with using in the past. I don't see why he wouldn't use it again, unless he were to come up with something specially for Lucy. (What I am hoping for)

If he were to actually use 'sweetheart' that would also fit well for Lucy, for how kind-hearted she is and has been to him.

I do hope that Tim might use something that we've never heard before. *fingers crossed* for this one. It won't matter if he doesn't. I'm ALMOST sure whatever endearment he comes up with (if he even does) some of us will probably pass out on the spot *raises hand* Me. I'd-- I'd do that. Ok, I might (very unlikely)

But what most likely would happen is what usually happens. I'll either be internally screaming or I'll sit there on the spot inaudibly screaming 'Ahhhh' while pointing.

I'm hoping it would be something that's unique to their relationship. Or at least Lucy. I'd be so on board for that! I am a sucker for those kinds of nickname/endearments, too.

Y'know, something similar to when she was his rookie and he would incessantly call her 'boot'.

Thank yooooou for sending me this ! I may have put waaay too much thought into this. I'm incapable of answering without talking extensively about it. This ask was a lot of fun 💖🤭