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aurorawritestoescape · 1 year ago

Text

FLASHER

Pairing: flasher!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you take an elevator with a stranger. He surprises you. Then you surprise him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, non-con due to exhibitionism but reader is into it, flashing, mutual masturbation, sweet Joel, it’s basically a meet cute😅, semi-public (no one sees them), pet names ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, swearing

Word count: 2k

A/n: I blame Pedro’s curls for this! And that coat😵‍💫

MASTERLIST

******

You’re rushing through the streets maneuvering around gray puddles. The rain is so heavy that your umbrella barely helps. You see your building and breathe out with relief. Soon you’ll be in the warmth of your home.

You close the dripping umbrella, unlock the entrance door and get inside from the wet street and into the darkness of the hall. You can’t wait to take your damp clothes off so you run up a short set of stairs and hurry to the elevator. With a bag in one hand and the umbrella in the other you push the button with your elbow and wait shifting on your feet with impatience. You look up at the display over the entrance - …6,5,4,3,2,1.

Finally you hear the cabin stop on the ground floor and the doors slide open. You’re about to get inside when you see him. A man is standing in the corner of the small dimly lit cabin facing you. He’s wearing a beige trench coat and wide dark blue pants. His hands stuffed into the coat pockets. But you notice all of that later. The first thing you see are his eyes, sad and beautiful. Dark and pleading. Then his hair. All curls and softness. Some locks are sticking to his forehead which must be wet because of the rain. You’ve never seen him in your building before, you’re sure of it. You’d remember someone that handsome.

“Hello,” you greet him quietly and wait for him to get out but when he doesn’t move for a few moments you quickly step inside. The elevator doors close behind you, you press the number of your floor and the cabin starts moving up.

The stranger is looking at you with his kicked puppy eyes and you give him a warm smile. He smiles back shyly and slowly opens his coat. You see a white shirt underneath, which looks too big on him. Your gaze slides down his body and you see his cock. The band of his pants is tucked under his balls and his whole dick is out. Your jaw drops and you blink quickly staring at his member. His cock twitches and it looks like the fat tip nods at you. It’s semi hard, quite big, and, you have to admit, very pretty.

You raise your eyes to the man’s face as your mouth opens and closes silently. You should be scared, should cry for help, shout at him at least but for some weird reason you don’t. You want to ask what’s wrong. Help him. Touch him.

“Do you need help?” you ask and he shakes his head with an apologetic smile and mumbles, “Just wanna show you my penis.”

Your heart flutters hearing his voice, deep, velvety and warm.

“Ok,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say or do. You’ve always been bad at small talk and especially now you feel lost for words with a cock of a stranger in front of you. The nature of the situation makes it all feel like a dream. But it’s far from a nightmare. You don’t feel scared, you feel…

Aroused? Attracted to this man?

He’s the one who started it so you do what comes to your mind first. Your hand darts to the elevator panel and you push the stop button. The cabin jerks and stops moving and the lighting inside gets even darker.

“Can I touch it?” the question flies out of your mouth unexpectedly and it seems to flabbergast you both. The man’s expression mimics yours just from a short time ago, mouth agape, eyes widened in surprise as they dart between you and the doors.

He mumbles, “‘msorry,” and closes his coat covering his crotch.

“No, no, you can leave it. I’m not scared,” you raise your hands still occupied with the bag and the umbrella.

He furrows his brows.

“Why?” He sounds almost offended.

“Because… ehm,” you try to give him an explanation, but fail. Why are you not scared?

“I don’t know,” you give him an honest answer and add, “are you dangerous?”

He blinks at you a few times. “No,” he replies quietly as his hands fall at his sides. His cock peeks out from behind the coat again and it looks less hard which makes you sad.

“Well.. Can I touch it?” you repeat the question and his brows shoot up.

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders and a corner of his mouth quirks up before he comments, “You’re weird.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who flashed me a minute ago so we’re both kinda out of the ordinary, right?” you quip and your answer seems to amuse him. His gaze trails down your body and then slides up pausing at your lips.

As soon as he says “yes” you place your bag and umbrella on the floor and step up to the man. The beauty of his features takes your breath away when you get closer and you bite your lip lost for a second in his doe-eyes. He opens his coat a little wider and you both look down at his cock. It stands at attention and you shift on your feet as your pussy starts aching with need.

After taking a deep breath you bring your hand to his crotch and take the shaft between your index finger and the thumb. The velvet softness of his skin almost makes you whimper. You check his reaction and see his lips parted and half lidded eyes glued to your hand on his cock.

Wanting more you carefully wrap your palm around it and hold it gently rubbing your thumb along his length.

It’s warm and heavy in your hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes out and his moan makes you gush.

“Can I stroke it?” you ask, batting your lashes at him though judging by his blown eyes you can easily predict his answer.

He nods and whispers, “yes.”

Your hand leaves his cock as you bring it to your lips. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit it into your palm. Then you take his hard cock in your hand again and start jerking it.

He’s watching your hand move easily against his length and a drop of precum beads at the red slit. He moans again and leans back against the wall closing his eyes shut,

“Yes, baby…like this.. Fuck…you’re amazing.”

You smile with satisfaction watching his handsome face contort in ecstasy.

Your core tightens just from looking at him, touching him and you press your thighs together searching for a crumb of pressure.

He opens his eyes as if sensing how desperate you’re getting and you hear through heavy breathing,

“May I touch you too?”

A blush peeks from behind his scruffy beard.

You’re blinking at him for some time while your hand is working his cock and then give him a short nod.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he takes your forearms in his hands and pulls you gently to the side, making you exchange places with him. Now your back is pressed to the wall and he’s caging you in with his size. You feel so much smaller against him now but a light pang of fear turns you on even more.

His gaze takes in your body, hunger swimming in his dark eyes. The man brings his hand to your crotch and takes the zipper pull between his thick fingers.

“You sure?”

You’re surprised that he needs so many conformations of your consent as if he didn’t flash you just a few minutes ago. You don’t say anything though, just nod.

He braces one hand on the wall near your head and with the other opens up your jeans. His breath on your cheek makes you shiver. You look up at his lips but stop yourself. Kissing feels too intimate right now. So you swallow your desire and drop your head.

The stranger flattens his hand, palm pressed to your lower stomach, mumbling “gonna put my hand into your panties now, ok?” When you reply with a breathy “yes” he slides his big hand into your soaked underwear and engulfs your whole pussy. You whimper at his touch and buck your hips into his palm. When two of his fingers push in between your folds you moan closing your eyes and barely breathing.

“Oh, baby,” he moans as his index and middle finger nudge at your slicked up entrance. He slides them up bringing the wetness to your hardening clit and starts rubbing it in tight circles. You feel you might melt under his caress and join the rain puddle from your umbrella on the floor.

You lick your palm to coat it in saliva and return it to his cock. You proceed by jerking his length, twisting your hand and sweeping your thumb over his bulbous head. His and your moans fill the small space of the elevator. You’re sure that someone might hear you from the hall but you don’t care.

His fingers find your hole again and he inserts them inside you slowly parting your walls and watching your reaction with blown eyes. He leans down, his forehead rests against yours and your noses brush as you grab the sleeve of his coat.

“It’s so warm and wet, baby…wish I could stick my cock inside you.” His words make you whine louder and you speed up your hand movements as he begins fucking you with his thick fingers. Your pussy aches pleasantly at the stretch. You both find your rhythm and give pleasure to each other with delirious generosity.

You feel a knot tightening in your core as the pads of his fingers massage your sweet spot. You squeeze your eyes shut feeling your climax approach fast. ��Gonna come,” you whine and after a few moments you come undone, contracting around his thick fingers. Your legs tremble and you might fall but he wraps his arm around your waist and pins you to the wall not letting you collapse.

When your climax subsides you return your full attention to his cock and move your hand against him vigorously. The head brushes against your lower belly smearing precum over your skin.

With one arm still wrapped around you, he grabs a fist full of your hair with his free hand and gently pulls at it tilting your head back. Your neck is exposed to him and his lips latch onto your delicate skin, kissing, sucking and nipping at it.

He moans against the column of your neck and the next moment you feel warm spurts of cum landing on your belly. You jerk him off through his orgasm milking his cock until the last drop.

You both are panting heavily when his forehead finds yours again and you rest for a few moments, eyes closed trying to catch your breath.

When the aftershocks pass he straightens up and you smile at each other. He tucks his cock back and takes out a handkerchief out of his pocket. He gently cleans his spend off your belly and you watch him marveling at how gentle he is. When he’s done you zip up your pants and fix your clothes. He picks up your things off the floor and hands them to you before pressing the number of your floor again. The cabin starts moving and you look at each other as the pleasure is still coursing through your body.

When the doors slide open his expression changes - his sad eyes return and he’s shifting his jaw.

“Can we meet again?” he asks hurriedly, taking your wrist in his hand. You drop your head and smile shuffling your feet. Then you lock eyes again and you tell him the number of your apartment. His face brightens which warms your heart and ignites your core again. You step out of the elevator and turn back to say “bye”.

“See you, sweetheart,” he says as you give each other one more warm smile before he pushes the ground floor button and the doors close.

*****

Thank you for reading!💕

Comments and reblogs will make me very happy!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #flasher!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #tw noncon #cw noncon #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader

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zepskies · 11 months ago

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Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor.

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you.

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car.

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters.

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed.

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down.

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety.

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it.

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side.

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can.

He disappears before you can spit at him.

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it.

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel.

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary.

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down.

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says.

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash.

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel.

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery.

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves.

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously.

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow.

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window.

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown.

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker.

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head.

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify.

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

“Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state.

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing.

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes.

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer.

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile.

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it.

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face.

“Are you angry?” he asks.

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him.

“No. Why?”

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh.

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence.

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you.

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there.

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself.

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency.

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes.

“Cas,” you breathe in content.

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage.

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free.

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks.

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

Castiel Masterlist

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev

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#love by any other name #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x female reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #mutual pining #angst #spn #supernatural #comission #reader request #castiel fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #misha collins #supernatural x reader #zepskies writes

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amymbona · 5 months ago

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1950s Patrick is cool, but imagine how tragic the story of 1940s Patrick is...

The war started and he is taken into the army, you cry and are afraid of losing your wonderful beloved husband. You can never be sure whether he will live or not, but can only believe and hope that at least he will remain alive, not to mention the injuries both physical and psychological, since war does not spare anyone. You spend your last night of love with him, whispering to him how much you love him and that you won't let him die. Maybe the conversation will even get to the baby, about how they want a baby and what you would name the baby after him. Patrick or Patricia :)) When a tear runs down cheek, he comforts you, says that he loves you, that he will never die and leave you alone. You end up falling asleep hugging him, and you look at him for the last time, knowing that tomorrow he will leave. In the morning you see him off, constantly kissing and hugging him the whole way, 'cause you understand that this is the only chance to be satiated with his love and adoration. You wave your handkerchief at him, shedding a tear, and here he is, leaving. All that remains is to believe that his service will be easier than others and that he will return to their home with the same wonderful smile and bright, shining eyes that you fell in love with.

Every time I realize that I'm a damn director, not a screenwriter. Give me my lovely screenwriter!!!

I haven't written to you for a long time, girlie. Amy, how are you?! What's up? 🤗🤗

- 🐦‍⬛

I'm gonna give you a blow job for this one, little bird. How am I doing? After reading this? Absolutely fucking wonderful.

One thing people must know about me is that I love angst and THIS..... 🫦🫦🫦 SO SO SO GOOD!

Imagine Patrick somewhere in the trench, the sun is falling down and he's shivering, purple bruises on his cheeks, his hair a complete mess. Unwashed, starving, the lack of sleep and warmth is very much evident in the way he's shivering but by some miracle, he hasn't gone crazy yet.

Perhaps it's the image of your beautiful face that he keeps in his pocket, a little photograph he has torn out of your family memory book that you keep in the living room, just to have you with himself at all times. All the men in his troop know about you, know your name and age and what flowers you like, that you love to dance to Glenn Miller's songs and wear the prettiest dresses. Patrick keeps talking about you nonstop.

And currently, he's writing a letter to you, one that he's been writing for the past there weeks and he honestly has no idea if his writings are ever gonna be seen by your eyes. Patrick is desperate to remain in contact with you, but he knows that even if all the letters would remain stuffed in his pocket, you'll know damn well what messages he is attempting to send you.

Luckily, through some begging and mutual contacts, he manages to give the letter to some guy. Patrick kisses it a thousand of times, hoping you'll get a whiff of his scent, even though he smells like dirt and piss.

My darling,

I miss you dearly and I miss you every day. Remember how I told you Remarque was a stupid fool? How I couldn't believe a single word from his book? This place is worse than All quiet on the western front, it's worse than hell itself.

Every day I thank myself for taking that little picture of your beautiful face to look at. It keeps me sane, I think, and I look at it more than I used to look at your real face. Forgive me it I've ever made you cry, my love. I cry every night.

Don't waste your words asking me how I'm doing, write about your days instead. Are you doing all alright? Are you keeping the place clean and that stray dog that keeps sneaking into our garden well fed? Has your mother's flu been treated and is she feeling better?

Please, darling, spray your perfume on the paper when you write me a response. Use the whole bottle it you feel like it's not enough. I just need to feel you somehow. If you can and find away, send me some food. Anything. In cans, preferably. Me and the boys are starving. They want to meet you when we're all back home. I talk about you and our memories every night.

I will be missing you until my heart stops beating.

Yours, Patrick

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig angst #ww2!au #soldier!au #soldier!patrick zweig #ask #🐦‍⬛ anon

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zellink · 11 months ago

Text

all the bells say

a pre-calamity zelink longfic. [chapter 1 of 28 // Act 0 of 5]

>> Read Act 0: "Genesis / Heavy" on AO3

Summary:

Rating: M Main Tags: canon compliant / angst with a happy ending / character study / romance / slow burn / all the goddamn tension. / mutual pining / self-doubt / following all the botw memories / Zelda is an unreliable narrator / Link is so hopelessly in love (until it's not) What will you do with what you've been given when the story forever tolls the same way? Link and Zelda, the Calamity, and their tale of inevitability and doom, and most of all, of love.

Notes:

Here I am, 7 years late to the party, 3 years after witnessing my boyfriend first play BOTW, with a Starbucks in hand and yet another pre-Calamity long fic that absolutely nobody asked for. But I have to do it. I have to bounce these two blonde elves in my head indefinitely and breathe life into my many, many headcanons.

All my love and thanks to my trench buddy and writing soulmate @1up-girl for all your invaluable beta'ing, brainrotting, and everything in between—I seriously owe you forever and ever. Thousands of thanks to the lovely @mustardcheesedog for your amazing energy and hype as an early reader and the daily zelink brainrot.

I also wanna to thank @milkywayes for doing the beautiful banner art for Bells; for understanding my vision and for all the conversations we've had about zelink—headcanons concocted in our DMs that I eventually adopted into this fic.

Fic title taken from the famous John Berryman poem, "Dream Song 29".

~~~ Please go to the fic page on AO3 and read the extended author's note in the beginning for warnings! ~~~

Anyway..... here's Act 0, y'all!

Act 0: Genesis / Heavy

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time Henry could not make good. […] Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking. “Dream Song 29” - John Berryman

Link is no stranger to death.

At five years old, he’s already witnessed more than his peers ever would. Growing up at a farm can do that to a kid. Cows, lambs, cuccos—all to the slaughter for sustenance, for profit. He stations himself beside Father and Mother as they butcher them to sell at the family shop. He’s also seen Father shoot countless deers and elk during their leisure hunts whenever Father is back home from Castle Town. More often than not, Father would let him borrow his old bow, and Link would contribute to their hunt, too.

But then Link’s pet fish dies one afternoon—a fat white freshwater carp with gold and black splotches he named Goldie—and he weeps and weeps in Mother’s lap. Goldie was his friend. Goldie was always there in the morning when he would wake up, and was there at night before he’d go to bed. But now Goldie is floating in the pond, its tiny mouth agape.

Mother strokes his hair. “It’s okay, Link. Goldie is with the Goddess, now.”

“Can I be with the Goddess, too?” he asks. Snot runs down his nose.

“Well, no.” Mother huffs a laugh. “Where Goldie is… we cannot go there. But what you can do is pray.”

Link withdraws his head from Mother’s lap. He wipes the tears from his face with the heel of his palms.

“Can we pray together, Mom?”

At that, something unreadable passes through Mother’s face. Her blue eyes turn steely.

“You can pray, Link,” she says, something sad about her small smile. “I won’t join. But we can arrange a funeral for Goldie, if you would like that?”

So they spend the rest of the day gathering flowers from the brambles that surround their estate until Mother’s wicker basket is full of white roses, blue nightshades, and armoranths. Mother also allows him to use the small wooden box that sits atop her vanity—a coffin perfect for Goldie. Mother says that it’s a box that used to house a necklace she bought and gave to Father long ago, but that necklace is long lost, so she has no use for it now.

Link wraps Goldie in an old rag and lays it gently inside the box. Then, they dig a hole in their backyard and bury the box and Goldie in it. He cries again, but not as hard as earlier. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, shuts his eyes, and utters his prayers aloud.

“Goddess Hylia, please welcome Goldie in your loving arms, give it many, many worms to eat, and bring it back as a strong and healthy fish in its next life.” Let its next life start tomorrow, please, Link does not say aloud.

When they make it back inside the living room, Father is already there, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee. He asks about what they have been up to, and Link answers honestly. Father doesn’t press on, and he looks rather exhausted, so Link goes back into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He climbs into his bed and crawls toward the far end of the wall, looking out from the window and into the backyard. He sees it—a small grave by the shrubs, complete with a rock roughly the shape of an oval as the tombstone, with flowers surrounding the little plot of land.

He hears voices from beyond his bedroom door.

“I don’t think it is best for us to go soft on him.”

“Wha— soft? He is five and his pet just died!”

“And you helped him throw a funeral. For a fish.”

“Because he’s just a child!”

There’s a grating sound—a chair being dragged on the floor. “Well, he’s always said that he wants to become a knight. Then we must prepare him for such an occupation.”

“Being a knight does not mean he can’t feel emotions.”

“Eleana, being a knight is not easy. He will see hundreds of deaths in his lifetime. The next death he’ll witness won’t be of a fish, but of a comrade. I just want to prepare him for when he eventually becomes one.”

“Well—” a pause, “—then I hope, for Link’s sake, he never becomes one.”

Link, however, doesn’t pay much attention to his parents’ conversation. Instead, he imagines Goldie wiggling its way past the layers of cloth and wood and soil, flopping around the backyard until it finds its way to the pond again. Once everybody is asleep Goldie will rise up from its grave, he thinks. He prayed to the Goddess, after all.

But come morning, the pond is still empty, and Goldie remains lifeless in its little coffin.

And he never sheds another tear after that.

****************

Link is no stranger to death, and no stranger to funerals, either.

A year after Goldie’s humble funeral in his backyard in Hateno Village, Father must attend one of the most important funerals in the kingdom for as long as Link can remember.

(Well, six years is quite long for him, anyway.)

So here he is, holding Mother’s gloved hand, in the congregation at the Grand Chapel of Hyrule Castle. It’s a sad occasion, of course—everyone’s wearing black, all the women have their faces obscured with a veil, and he can hear sniffles from the crowd. But Link also can’t wait to tell his friends back home of his first real experience in the castle.

There are speeches, sermons, hymns, and many, many other long-drawn-out processions that he has no choice but to zone out on. But once the burial is over, Link is rather excited, because the Royal Guards (and by extension, Father) must accompany the Prince Consort to the Sanctum for an intimate reception.

The Sanctum is grand—big, luxurious, grand. Red velvet is draped everywhere—the thrones, the floor, the curtains, the banners. There’s also a lot of gold, and streaks of blue here and there. Link likes the blue the most.

When Father makes his way through the crowd to find Link and Mother, Link knows it’s time. He straightens his back, draws his chin a little bit higher, and follows Father.

“This is pretty exciting, right, Mom?” Link whispers. “Meeting the Prince!”

“The King,” Father corrects him. “He was the Prince, and now, without the Queen, he has become the King.” He sounds annoyed. “Please don’t make that mistake in front of His Majesty.”

Link clears his throat. “Sorry, Father.”

He gazes up at Mother again, but she’s quiet, and it’s hard to look past her veil.

They climb the grand marble staircase leading to the floating dais above the room, and find a large man standing in front of the throne.

Father and Mother immediately drop to their knees. Link follows suit.

“Your Majesty,” Father says, his head bowed.

“Sir William! Please, no need for this,” the King’s voice booms. Father rises, followed by Mother, and then Link. “I am very pleased to see you again, Lady Eleana. It’s been too long.” The King sounds friendly, but there’s a lot of sadness at the edge of his voice. That makes sense, Link thinks. He just lost his wife.

Then, the King sets his eyes on Link.

Link’s hands feel clammy, all of a sudden.

“And you, young boy—how you have grown! It was not that long ago when your father brought you as an infant to the Castle to celebrate my daughter’s birth,” he says. Link can only muster up a nod and a shaky smile. “Speaking of—” the King turns around to shoo something from his back. “Don’t just hide! Introduce yourself.”

From behind the King’s robe, a little girl emerges, clad in a black dress and a black surcoat. Her face, however, isn’t covered with a veil like the other women, and the first thing Link notices is how golden her hair is compared to the rest of her outfit. It’s almost blinding.

The second thing Link notices is how green her eyes are. Very green. Like grass, like trees. Like the forests that he likes to spend time in.

The girl extends a gloved hand. Palm facing down.

“I’m Princess Zelda,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

Link takes her hand in a gentlemanly way that Father has taught him when greeting noblewomen. His thumb pad rests on her knuckles. His left hand rises to splay over his right breast. Then, he puts one foot in front of the other and bends his knees, bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” he says. “My name is Link.”

As he straightens up again, Link finds it hard to let go of her hand. The Princess doesn’t, either; her forest green gaze is still piercing through his eyes. It feels like vines are growing out of his wrist and twining around his hand and the Princess’.

“Hello, Link,” she says.

Oh, his heart is racing.

Father lets out a cough, and the vines vanish. Link withdraws his hand as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The Princess lets her arm fall limp at her side once more, but her eyes are still on him. Mother grabs him by his shoulders, pulling him back to stand next to her again.

“Your Majesty, once again, Eleana, Link, and I would like to offer our deepest condolences for your loss,” Father says. “For this kingdom’s loss. The Queen is—was—a strong and wise monarch, and as a people, we shall mourn her absence forevermore.” His lips are trembling a little, Link notes. He’s never seen that on Father before.

“Thank you, Sir William,” the King says. “You were a steadfast presence in her life, truly.” At that, Mother’s grip tightens. Link tilts his head up to look at her, but is met with that layer of veil again. “Well, I must be on my way. Duty calls upon us all, after all.”

With one last bow from Father, Mother, and Link himself, the King makes his way toward the other end of the dais and descends the opposite staircase. The Princess follows, her back straight and steps never once faltering.

She doesn’t turn back to cast one last glance at his family, but Link watches and watches and watches. He’s still watching as she disappears beneath the grand archway that leads further into the castle.

On the walk back to Castle Town where Father resides, Link feels something heavy settling in his gut. Like his little inconsequential life makes sense, all of a sudden. Like being six years old doesn’t really matter because, in that moment, he feels like there are hundreds of ancient men residing within the confines of his bones. And all those men are whispering the same name over and over.

The name he heard just a half hour ago.

So he speaks up.

“Father, I think I’m ready to really train,” he says. “I really wanna be in the Royal Guard.”

Father laughs.

Mother, beneath her black veil, stays quiet.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#my fic #zelink #zelink fic #breath of the wild #botw #botw fic #tloz #the legend of zelda #ao3 fanfic #bells tag

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eriyu · 4 months ago

Text

People I Wanna Get to Know Better

tagged by @wildstar25 (thank you!!!)

Last Song: i just rewatched Marianas Trench's video for Who Do You Love!!! it made me cry again!!! (although also this happened because of a conversation stemming from their new album; go listen to it.)

youtube

Favorite Color: indigo. as rich as possible. in the spot right where you're not sure whether to call it blue or purple.

Currently Watching: multiple things, but biggest is probably that i've been slowly making my way through Doctor Who? i gave up before Matt Smith many years ago, but i'm currently in the middle of series 6 with the help of this guide

Last Movie: i'm not sure it's the most recent, but i rewatched Lion King II not too long ago. it may not be the original Lion King, but legitimately, it's pretty good??? i was feeling kinda nuts over One of Us. "Born in grief / Raised in hate / Helpless to defy his fate / Let him run / Let him live / But do not forget / What we cannot forgive."

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet!!!!! i love sugar!!!!!!! i mean, spicy and savory are also good. but if i have to choose.

Relationship Status: single

Current (OC) Obsessions: am i supposed to be more specific than just "Ehryu"??? i've been thinking a lot lately about her and Thancred, i guess. i just adore their friendship. how much they have in common. how straightforward they are with each other. how much they end up leaning on each other. how they have the absolute best banter.

Last Thing I Googled: "indigo dye" LMAO. before this it was "laser pointer milliwatts" because someone on reddit claimed that you could use a "regular-ass" laser pointer for laser therapy.

i've seen a lot of people get tagged by others already so i'm just going to blanket tag all mutuals. 8') if you haven't done it already, please do!!!

#eriyu has an irl #ask memes #Youtube

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islandofsages · 1 year ago

Text

return to ... wonderland?

hello everyone!!

i won't lie to you, i didn't think i'd ever revive this account. i even thought of deleting it sometimes but i know that some may still want to take comfort in my writing and the thing is, i do get notes from time to time despite the state of this account.

but recently i found myself in the x reader trenches once again ... just not for genshin unfortunately. i'm no longer part of the fandom. rather, now i'm rebranding this blog to become a twisted wonderland x reader blog instead!

but aside from that, nothing much has changed. i will still only write non-romantic requests, despite me now being unlabeled and definitely experiencing some romantic attraction here and there ahaha. crazy what time does to you.

i did want to try writing for multiple fandoms but i don't think i have the passion for writing x readers for them so i'm still sticking to one central fandom for this blog. if that changes, well, i'll cross that bridge when i come to it.

i've decided to loosen up the boundaries here a bit and now fem/fem-aligned readers are allowed to interact with my work but you can't follow nor request for fem!readers bc i'll just be blunt with you - most x readers are still fem reader-dominated. i've even seen some anons default to she/her pronouns for allegedly gn readers. so no, fem readers are not a thing here. mutuals are an exception to this rule, you can follow, but you guys still can't request for fem!readers. that is one thing i will absolutely refuse to write.

also, since this is focused on twisted wonderland now, requests should specify if reader is yuu or not. i know it's a normal to assume reader would be yuu since yuu is supposed to be us but some of us just can't really insert ourselves into yuu regardless (like me, my self-insert is not my yuusona. they are different characters).

oh and i also write for character x character now !! i absolutely love exploring dynamics in this game bc it feels like any pairing is possible. still no romance but you can request them :D

those are the main changes. you can find smaller changes + more details in my rules (which is in my pinned!). and don't worry, the old genshin stuff will still be there for you, i won't remove them. just keep in mind that i won't be writing for genshin anymore.

and that is all for now!! feel free to send in requests + spread this around :] and don't be shy to ask me anything or even just chat through asks <3

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isa-ghost · 3 months ago

Note

Seeing you talk about the egos is always such a blast from the past for me because I used to be SOOO into it when egopocalypse and stuff was going on. I was in the TRENCHES back then bro.... I even feel like I recognize you from that era??? but that could also be wrong since i barely remember who I was friends with back then anyway, let alone what artists i followed save for a few names that still stick out

Oh I'm sure you recognize me, in the same way I've been called a famous author in Phil's community, I'm called a famous theorist in the JSE community. :P A lot of my closest friends on Tumblr are mutuals I met in the community. <3 They know who they are reading this (hi ily guys :D)

And strangely?? I used to be vaguely on Sean's radar back when he was still on Tumblr too, the same way Phil will see me in chat or donos and call me by first name like I'm some infamous criminal LMFAO. I have a whole tag of times Sean noticed fanart I made or theories I wrote. Which. Is still surreal to me to this day tbh. He was my internet dad and comfort CC before I found Phil. :)

A LOT of my followers on here are from 2018 when ego content was at its peak and I was writing notes on suspicious hint activity in videos or theories using the next crumbs of canon ego stuff we received. Mayhem 2018 my beloved <333 So yeah, I have no doubts you've seen my unhinged ass around before LMAOOO. I've been here for more than half of the JSE community's lifespan on this hellsite, I've seen a LOT.

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cloudbitch · 7 months ago

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*Sticks ♧ shaped sticker on your forehead* :3

Yippee a sticker :D

You’re my: victim of the great april wars of 2024 (and beloved mutual)

How I met you: in the trenches. Booping war, we had a friendly fight that went on for so long that my screentime was tru the roof. Worth it

Why I follow you: reblogs, and the daily snails?????? Yes please, i need it. Its not an addiction, i swear. Its always fun to see your tags pop up in my inbox

Your blog is: okay so, the inside of the shell of a snail. But its bigger on the inside and it has a bunch of rooms. Its drawn in the gravity falls art style to be specific

Your URL is: for at least a month i was convinced your url was "ham-some". So i just assumed you were a big fan of ham. Then i learned it was "hand-some" and i started into the void for a few minutes.

Your icon is: snail snacking on some popcorn, have fun little one

A random fact I know about you: disco elysium fan (another fun fact, you and a friend of mine are the reason i started playing that game). Never played mario kart????? A crime

General opinion: 10/10 vibes. Amazing reblogs and snails. I really love the snails thank you for sharing them with us. Were stuck in this hell hole (lovingly) togheter. And like wise, would love to hang out, but in the meantime for your social battery (which so valid) the social enrichment of the tags and reblogs are enough

A random thought I have: "I dont talk about feelings alfred, i dont have any, ive never seen one. Im a night stalking, crime fighting vigilante, and a heavy metal rapping machine. I dont feel anything emotional, except for RAGE, 24/7, 365, at a million percent. And if you think theres something behind that, then youre crazy."

#this took so long to type because my hand is fucked atm #and ofc youre music taste is amazing too. that just goes hand in hand with the good vibes. it just works like that #have a great that mutual hope you see some snails after the rain stops

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bitter-sweet-coffee · 10 months ago

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Quick question, if you had to pick one, ONLY one ship would you pick: Espave, or Dog and Hog?

Asking for a friend :)

HAH, well isn’t this an oyster of maggots? okay anon, you’re clearly someone who knows me well enough to say dog&hog so you also know me well enough to know there isn’t a short or concise answer to this.

now, if you want my kneejerk reaction, the answer will always be Espave. i’ve shipped them for almost 18 years now, ever since wave’s debut as a character, and that fundamentally forms a person. there’s no denying what this ship means to me

… however. i have to say dog&hog for a teleological reason. the greatest joy of espave for me is also its tragic flaw: it means everything to me, and nothing to everyone else. shipping infinite and shadow brought me mutuals, a server, a community, and a microfandom status as an ironic CEO. there’s a *fandom* and a *market* for dog&hog, so in its own way, the ship gifts me comfort and social validation because i’m not fighting for my life alone in the trenches.

but it all comes back to fandom misogyny, doesn’t it? i’ve been a sonic fan for what, 2 decades now? i’ve seen the rise and fall of 06, witnessed the painstaking unleashed renaissance, and have been subjected to all sorts of shipping discourse and doxxing, yet it was the utter lack of respect for Wave that has made me go cold feet on making sonic content in 2024.

anyone who knows me knows i was on a ROLL, i was rereading all the comics and taking notes and using topology to explain how the universe was created:

and then i stopped.

because it felt like no one gave a single fuck outside my pre-existing friends, who i only gained because i shipped infinite and shadow. it all comes back to them. sure i’ve baited people into shipping espio and wave, but it was never really about them at the end of the day, just what they were part of. but it didn’t have the same effect because the fandom just likes gay edgy male characters and will reduce every female character, regardless of her role, to a lesbian uwu girlboss.

so i couldn’t take it. i snapped, and if you didn’t already notice i’ve halted all my projects to just mindlessly drown myself in stardew valley, which isn’t a BETTER fandom, but at least i haven’t dedicated nearly the duration of my entire life to it, so it hurts less.

sorry anon. i know you probably just meant “hey what should i draw?” or some shit, but i felt like this was the time to get real for a second.

my final answer is dog&hog, but my heart will always belong to Wave.

#bsc anon #infinite the jackal #shadow the hedgehog #wave the swallow #espio the chameleon #espave #infinadow #shadfinite

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shegetsburned · 2 years ago

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𝐨𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 —

tagged by the lovelies @marivenah @madparadoxum @nightbloodbix @strangefable @voidika @kyber-infinitygems and @clonesupport tysm for the tag! ♡

no pressure tags @poisonedtruth @unbindingkerberos @unpetitoiseau @children-of-epiales @trench-rot @captastra @florbelles @ri-a-rose @simonxriley @nightwingshero and anyone who I might’ve forgotten, I apologize I’ve seen a lot of my mutuals do it already!

favorite oc —

Braise has to be my favorite one. Probably due to my never ending r6 obsession. I absolutely love writing about her and her story. I’ve got many ideas for her and I’m very excited to share them! I also love the r6 oc community and the fact that she’d be friends with many of my moots ocs.

newest oc —

If we’re talking about me sharing her, she has to be the newest one, but in terms of ideas and being in my head, she’s been there since 2016, since I first watch rvb. So I’ll put her as new since Kansas is new to you guys, and I’m also excited to share more about her.

oldest oc —

She’s honestly been in my mind forever. I’ve started playing r6 a long time ago and fell in love with the game and the lore. I also had this idea of her starting of as a love interest for Thermite but then not working out and then going towards Mute. She’s the oc I’ve shared the most about too.

meanest oc —

I mean this guy, where do I start. I don’t want to say he’s pure evil, since he really is looking for his other half, but he’s also looking for help to conquer the galaxy. He won’t ever hesitate to manipulate and hurt to get what he wants, including a lover. Partly why he manipulated Lou so much. What makes him pretty evil is probably his lack of empathy and regret. Gralous will never regret his actions, like ever. The only thing that can stop him is probably death.

softest oc —

He’s such a sweet man, look at him. He’s so sweet for his girl especially. Always seeing the good in things and taking care of the ones he loves. He won’t ever give up on them. He forgives and forgets. There’s a reason why Lou has so much trust in him. He’s very pure. He was pure as a Jedi master and even better as a bounty hunter. (he chooses his bounty carefully, considering what he’s done wrong) I love him.

most aloof/standoffish oc —

She’s always been kind of distant. Carefully choosing who she trusts. Mostly because her family was always hesitant to trust the authorities and always thought the Jedi Order were abusing the system. It didn’t help with her issues. As a Jedi and as a Sith, she’ll be cold at first, warming up to the good persons.

dumbest (affectionate) oc —

In this universe, how can she not be dumb. Despite her being in the Project and being a freelancer, she does act just like the reds and blues sometimes. Mainly why she gets along with them. Being impulsive and in love with vehicles doesn’t help her case. But in the right moments, she’ll always be serious.

smarest oc —

Lou is intelligent. She sees opportunities were others doesn’t. It did help during her Jedi training to speed things up. That is also why Isaak will, at one point, ask if she can lead minor missions at first, seeing all of her potential. She is also very smart as a Sith warrior, defying her opponents with difficult combat techniques.

oc I’d be friends with —

Definitely Braise. I’ve given a lot of personal trait I like to Braise, which is why I know I’d love to be friends with her. She’d probably be my idol with everything she’s done and how strong she is. I love her very much.

Also special mention to Kansas, she’d be so fun to have around.

#oc: braise #oc: lou kesyk #oc: isaak axar #oc: darth gralous #oc: kansas #burned ocs #r6 oc #sw oc #rvb oc #tag game #tysm for the tag!

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emerald-dragonflame · 1 year ago

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yoooooo um hi fellow stranger here i dunno if you're still doing these or whatever but i've seen you draw my mutuals' gents on my dash and i'm in love and pardon the forwardness but if I may be so bold uh

this is Béla he's a skeleton and I love him and I've wondered what he'd look like in your style since Bridei cam across my dash I love your art slinking away now

Here you go! I didn't have an idea what his clothing under his trench looked like, but I found this really cool pose that I thought suited (lol "suit") him.

I haven't drawn skeletons since... *cringes* Undertale, but I hope I did Béla right :3

#asks #art requests #art asks #littlebluebarista #other people's ocs #art #digital art #small artist #artists of tumblr #artists on tumblr

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naivety · 6 months ago

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Hey! You don’t know me, but I’m a Black Sails fan from ~2020-2022 who still checks the tag for fun and I enjoy what you said about Silver and Billy, in addition to what 4x05 foreshadowed about the ending of the war and Silver’s relationships with Flint and Madi… I always called 4x05 the “John Silver Divorce Episode” for that exact reason… I literally have a playlist on Spotify for it. 😂😂

it is genuinely so fundamental to the audience's understanding of silver and yet i forget that episode exists. the duality of black sails. this ask did make me rewatch the episode though and i forgot billy literally tried to kill flint and by extension madi in a shootout preceding all of that, which just makes the gut punch of it all more insane because silver literally did not need to shake cry throw up about betraying billy. when he'd literally just betrayed flint and madi's coalition and by extension silver like one episode ago. but he did! he does! cause that's his buddy! silver and billy were in the flint understander hater trenches together just last season. he's pissed at billy for fucking up an incredibly delicate situation while also putting the two most important people in his life directly in the line of fire at the same time, and yet he knows exactly why billy did it because they used to be on the same page about flint not even that long ago, so he can't even hate billy for it. he can't and he doesn't!

and as he and flint and madi go around trying to clean up his mess, flint betrays madi! in silver's eyes, of course, not madi's as we learn later, but flint does what flint always does which is his own thing with or without the say of the people he's asking to go along with it. though we explicitly know silver, who is building this entire thing with flint and is actually integral to flint's own desire to decide to build it back in 3.06, is right next to him moment of and begs flint not to bargain with the maroons' cache and his own life in one fell swoop, and he, of course, does it anyway. silver doesn't care about this war, he cares about these people, and they care about it, so he does what he must because, well. where else would he wake up in the morning and matter? but flint keeps asking more of silver than he knows how to give! and silver keeps trying to give it anyway!

it's this very thing, in my opinion, that he tearfully reveals to madi has him so scared back in 3.07. not responsibility for flint's crew, but flint himself. the responsibility of protecting the crew and even the world around him from flint in the role billy first fulfilled, or tried to, after gates, as well as the responsibility of being all flint asks him to be, who silver keeps saying he is in answer. he can't help himself and i think he knows this, which is why he and billy's mutual understanding starts to have tiny fractures in the duldrums. his response to billy saying he needs to garner enough of flint's respect to maintain his position as both gates and miranda did is 'both of those people wound up dead', and billy has no response for him because it's true! billy almost wound up dead too, which silver himself was willing to manipulate to maintain his position on the chess board next to flint and his crew at one point back in season 2. the difference between billy and silver in the duldrums is insanely that silver believes in flint, and billy does not. which is the exact opposite of silver's claims back in season 2 as well. billy believes in the utility of flint's mythos, while silver has begun to believe in flint like. a deity. which is beside the point, but i think after charlestown, silver's realized he's reshaping himself to fit more permanently here, quite literally considering his actual physical shape changes as a result. for the crew, not flint, which is something that builds a trust with billy, but as silver reveals in the maroon camp, he has come to care for flint as well. silver has seen both the myth and the man in flint at this point, while billy has only ever caught glimpses of the latter, and the outline of his own morality clashes to harshly with the little he has seen anyway.

silver, on the other hand, has no outline to clash with other than his own survival, which we have seen him fundamentally put on the line for the crew, but silver choosing to listen to billy in the duldrums and secure his position beside flint, even if those who did it before all wound up dead, is silver doing it for flint too! in a way billy never had to, much to his relief, i'm sure, because he can only stomach flint in small doses, as the shootout on the plantation illustrates. flint's utility as the face of their movement often demands a high toll on the people building it for and with him, and billy is similar to silver in that he's always cared more about people, even if he can see the merit in most of the schemes flint proposes, often more than even silver. silver balks at the idea of picking and choosing who to feed in the duldrums while billy doesn't, because he knows where flint is coming from, that it must be done for the bigger picture, but he doesn't berate silver for balking either, because he also knows where he's coming from is genuine care for the people who make up the picture.

(hi this is j from the future and i spent like two hours typing and thinking about this because i am normal about television. you may read sooo much black sails meta blabbering in many circles at your own discretion below the cut <3)

this is why silver likewise balks at flint's plan to gamble the cache for nassau's bigger picture, because in doing so he's not only gambling with is own life as collateral, which is something silver's come to hold dear, but doing it without consulting with madi and her people first, who the cache now belongs to, who have also become dear to him. this is why the first person he goes to after billy is madi. while with billy, silver's ironically kind of become who billy was to him and flint in the duldrums, and he defends flint's decision to a balking billy, he can be vulnerable with madi because of what she promised to be to him; a tether to keep him afloat in all of flint's gravity. silver knows his defense of flint comes from a different place than billy's in the duldrums, which is his attachment to flint the man, not any inherent, bigger picture, because it's a picture silver's never been able to see. he's not an idealist, which is the one thing billy and flint have in common. he sees what's happening in the world around him now, and what he must do to ensure his own survival through it, but slowly he's decided to ensure a crew's survival with his own, and then flint's and then madi's, and her people. not because he can see what they can, but because he can see them. i think he knows this about himself, and it's why madi offering herself as a tether to keep him grounded amidst deciding to follow someone who he can do nothing but blindly believe in impacted him so much. he feels like he's flying blind because he is, but madi offers him support in case he falls.

and he does!!!! in the beginning of 4.05 he is absolutely falling!! flint has done another thing he can only sort of understand, at the cost of things important to him, and he hates it but he's defending it to billy's face, which also feels a little like betrayal even if billy's earned it because silver is absolutely doubting flint's judgement even if he says he isn't and billy knows it, and silver runs straight to madi for that support. to be caught. he explains what flint's done rather gravely, especially compared to how he relayed it to billy. it's an environment safe to admit his doubts to, but it almost appears like he's braced to have to defend flint to her as he did with him anyway. he thinks he's telling her she's been betrayed by someone close to him, who she has expressed nothing but doubt and skepticism about by the way!! until her mutual widower arc alongside flint opened up an understanding between them, she was honestly similar to billy in function; someone silver constantly had to explain and excuse flint's actions to. but he doesn't realize there's been a change until she absorbs the conflict of it all live in front of him, and then she turns to him and says 'i think he made the right decision'.

when i first watched this episode, i was flying blind, and found myself constantly unable to track where silver was going to come at a situation from at any given moment. i did not understand him and did not understand why he was so upset by her reaction to everything. like. isn't she parroting the things silver's just told himself? she's defending flint's judgement, as he just did to billy, as he's done all season long and long before. and yet he is in utter disbelief about it!!! he is watching in real time madi take the blow like it wasn't a breech of trust on flint's part, to make this decision without asking anyone else involved, without asking her, directly ignoring silver's asking him not to as he made the deal anyway. the very same person who he's had to try to convince to trust flint for the last several months of his life. who, i think, he found safety in because of their skepticism and doubt, because his split between disciple-like belief in flint and constant doubt that it might kill him at the same time frightens him. he knows the multitudes of flint, why he's worth believing in just as much as why that belief could kill and has killed people before, and he knows he keeps choosing to believe flint anyway. someone who believed in him and absolutely not flint was a tether to reason, escape from something he felt might be inescapable, and she's barely batted an eye at yet another patented flint betrayal of mutual cooperation in decision-making, in painting this bigger picture, together.

she does not balk! she does not catch him!!!

and then. and then!!!! she asks him to betray billy! she doesn't know it, but she proposes to him the same kind of proposition(s) that flint had that threatened to drown silver in the first place, that she said she'd anchor him from! silver's overplayed his hand, except. and yet he's underplayed it. he's given madi and flint all the reason to think he's on the same page as them, that he cares about this movement just as much as they do, and when flint asked him point blank for elaboration, he denied it. they have no reason to doubt him, so they trust him. to do what he must to keep their revolution alive, to understand why he must, because he's done it before and they think he believes in it, and he keeps selling that he does. madi asks him to betray billy, and silver rebuts with skepticism that what they want out of nassau is impossible without billy's utility to it because all he has is a farce of half-real fear, his inability to see the same picture she and flint do, his doubt, and she asks him to have faith that it's survivable. that it will be hard, but they can survive it. but right now, silver feels like he can't! not if they keep asking him to do these things! flint asking him to betray madi like this, madi asking him to betray billy. he doesn't want to do any of these things! he cares too much about the present (and the past) to sacrifice it in order for the future.

he doesn't want madi to say it's survivable, he wants her to tell him he doesn't have to do it. yes, he can understand why they might need to betray billy for the greater cause, he knows intimately why, actually, because he's aligned himself with the two people who could convince him to do such a thing, but he also knows billy is his friend! just like he knew why flint made this deal in the first place, but he also knew he loved madi, and madi loved him, and trusted him, and to try and put both of those things together is too contradictory. it's fucking hard! flint's entire inner conflict is just how fucking hard it is, and he and madi ask him to do it anyway! the difference between flint and silver is that flint's vision for the future could always guide him to make all these sacrifices worth it, worth something. and the two times we see flint think about giving up, making all those sacrifices mean nothing because they're fucking hard and it's torture to keep making them, it's actually silver who convinces him to keep going. not because he believes it, but because it's what flint needs to believe to survive it, and silver knows him enough to know it. he justifies flint's own actions to him, just as flint had before he ran out of lies to tell, just as madi does to silver in that moment. and he says it, 'you sound just like him'. idealists. words silver knows well, but the difference between them and him is that to him they're just lies you tell yourself to keep going. they're lies he told! and they're asking him to believe it, believe them.

and despite himself... he does! billy parrots sentiments we see silver parrot to flint in the finale, of this cycle of sacrifice for a vision they are never privy to, offers him this tether and silver severs it, another part of himself that holds a kernel of something real, something true, because he doesn't think they want that part of him. he is in tears!! it is absolutely devastating, and he does it anyway. he falls right back into the whirlpool cycle he feared would drown him and thought madi could save him from. she asks him to sink down further into it, and he does, because he's made himself entirely unknowable if he's not known by them, known as this; trustworthy enough to suffer sacrifice as they do. he needs to be that person, so he is. he thought he and madi agreed to be each others' tethers, agreed to trust that instead, but he refused to be truly known at the same time, so it was never going to work. she thinks he's someone he's not, and he refuses to give her an alternative, so what else is she supposed to trust him with other than what he's said she can? she trusts him to sacrifice billy for them, and he does! she knows it hurts him, and she tells him that, that she might not know all of him but she knows him enough to know this is hard for him, but she thinks it's survivable. together, for the future they are trying to build, it's survivable.

but silver can't see that future. his response is to ask her if he would be enough, if he were to ask her to sacrifice what she held dear, if he could ever dare to ask, would it be enough for that future, and she can't answer. and he runs away from the unknown of it. he knows in that moment he could do this until it kills him. he'll do and become whatever he thinks they want him to even if it kills him, because he thinks her picture of the future and him in it requires it, because she couldn't give him an alternative. because he couldn't give her one! something about it resonates not just with silver asking flint if what is known about him can be enough maintain their trust in each other, but with flint asking who silver is, who he was, and silver being unable to answer. madi and flint and silver's futures worth so much sacrifice are diverging. he tries so badly to see her's, flint's, to pretend he can, but then it kills madi, and it's all he has left of her, but then she's alive again, and... it's not worth it. it isn't. he can't keep pretending and flint doesn't know silver well enough to convince him to believe, because silver himself has denied flint of knowing.

thought i was done but i hit play again on my rewatch and billy literally says to silver's face that he'd follow him. that he thinks flint thinks they need him, that it would all fall apart without him, but he believes it could be silver instead. billy offers this tether of skepticism to silver in this moment, this mutual inability to see the future flint and madi are asking them to believe in. and it is complete harmony with silver's conversation with madi we see in the premiere!! in which madi calls back to silver's fear of the fates of those closest to flint and tries to tell him he doesn't need to sew himself to this man to matter, for her to follow him. that she would follow him wherever he lead. she believes in him! she believes in him even though he denies her of knowing him fully because he does not believe in himself. he doesn't know who he is outside of their belief in it, which all started with a lie anyway. my name is john silver, and i happen to be a very good cook- i mean and i have a long fucking memory. he doesn't believe billy when he says this and, try as he might, he never convinces himself to believe madi either, or flint when he says he believes he's the best of them. hands asks him in his moment of wavering why he should follow him if he doesn't know, why should anyone. he is not a real person and he knows it, they know it, all of them know it, but he refuses to be known as anything else to any of them!! flint asks him to betray madi, madi asks him to betray billy, billy asks him to betray flint. they are in a square of trying to convince each other what's lies and what's truth, believe in me, trust me, and only silver knows what his corner contains in a way none of the others or their dynamics with each other can compare to. silver knows all of them, and all of them know each other, but none of them know him, so he's always the one who could make or break them. and he's the only one refusing to bare the whole truth of himself to any of them in the end, so of course he breaks them.

#starbuck #j rewatches black sails #black sails meta #ummm cannot say how sorry i am for this dec you sent one (1) ask and you get this #thank you for sending it though it feels like an excuse to squeeze the crazy gay media analysis out of my brain with a hydraulic press #cleansing ritual #this is more for me than you please do not read all of that unless you're like. billysilver corkboard and string on occasion because #well i didn't even know i was billysilver corkboard and string on occasion. and here i am #i am So normal about television #p.s. obi wan voice of course i know you i'm a long time follower!#i am very sorry this is your first interaction with me probably hsdfdsk um. i would very much enjoy your john silver divorce ep playlist #were that something you were willing to share <3

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