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meiyvsdesire · 22 days ago

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VII. HIS VESSEL

Ryomen was never a soft spoken person and likes to say it as it is without considering how the other person would feel, what was important to him is the answer his looking for. Which was you, admitting that you were after something much more than just this marriage.

"I'm positive that this marriage was all your father's idea, correct?"

This wasn't his first rodeo. He had been offered marriage many times because of his status but because some families were greedy, he proposes to meet with the candidates alone to get to know them but mostly to investigate about their intention.

But you were an honest person yourself, it is very hard to communicate your own emotions to your family so you learned that speaking in an honest manner is what gets attention. You desire transparency with anyone you communicate because you knew how it felt being misunderstood. You nodded with your eyes down on the table like it wasn't a hard question at all.

Ryomen proceeded to ask.

"Why didn't you oppose to his idea?"

The question made you smirk as if you never tried and your mind just flashed back the day you ran away after finding out your father's plan.

"Do I look like I have a choice?"

You questioned as you shifted your eyes to look at him.

"You do. Everyone has a choice."

He answered quick finding bluff in your previous words and he leaned back on his seat crossing his arms against his chest.

"Unless you're in it for the prize."

At first you never really understood what he meant about the prize, like what prize? This is basically torture. But then you slowly realize that he was hinting the wealth his family possess and it you scoff feeling offended of how he thinks of you. Do you look like a woman who's after money? For all he knows, your family is wealthy too but just not in the same level.

You wanted to walk out, tell him to fuck off. You wanted to say keep your fucking wealth. You shook your head thinking this was gonna be somewhat peaceful meeting but who are you kidding? your marrying into a group of criminals, of course their gonna interrogate you.

The room became silent as you still thought of your answers and Ryomen allowed you take your time because no lies can escape his ears. No action can go unnoticed. His been too experienced in this things that every move you make similar to the people he handles in the basement he'll be able to read.

On the other hand you can tell he was observing you but you were into psychology as well but didn't go deep into it. Saying what you thought of earlier will only make things bad for you so you decided on answering him with the facts that you experienced growing up.

"As you know, I am my father's eldest and being a woman in this role doesn't give as much as freedom as a son is given."

Ending your answer with an isn't obvious? tone. Ryomen didn't speak after realizing your answers could be true and factual. He had been seeing women in the industry with less opportunity and always standing behind their husbands. Suddenly, all the questions in his mind started to fade as if they were quickly answered with one word.

It was his turn to be silent, eyes down on the table trying, to think of other questions to throw at you. But the silence made you feel awkward and it helped made you think of a question. Since he started fo asking you questions, you decided that you'll be doing that as well.

"What about you? Don't you feel tortured by all of this?"

Ryomen was quick to shift his eyes back on you and shook his head confidently.

"Not at all, my grandfather's choices were always of great intention."

Your eyebrows slowly furrowed after realizing that this was his grandfather's doing. You thought he had a word on this but it seems like he too was in the same predicament as you, only that he wasnt reacting to it negatively.

"So you just trust him to decide for you? in this marriage? Or in everything?"

Hearing your question Ryomen felt slightly offended, that to you he portrayed himself as a fool following another man's order. He soon realized that you'll think his in the same situation as you but no, his was different. His more independent, unlike you he is a man of his own decisions, although sometimes in order to have his grandfather trust him with the family throne he had to follow his commands until the grandfather decides for him to get married.

"For the meantime, until I'm able to take his position."

"Position? What position?"

Ryomen scoffed and shook his head finding your question ridiculous. Slightly covering his smile by rubbing his fingers under his lips.

"Have you not done this before?"

He smiled in a mocking manner, like he was talking to a fool. He couldn't believe you asked that. The seriousness of your face made him realize that you weren't joking at all and just shook his head but his smile remained.

"Boss, as boss."

You tilted your head to the side trying to make sense of the term boss, like isn't he already a boss? A CEO?

Ryomen smirked clearly seeing your cluelessness upon entering this marriage.

"The family ruler."

Your mouth slightly gaped open now that you slowly have realized he meant being the head of the family. The ruler, the monarch, the once who call the shot. Ryomen saw the change in your expression and smirked, grabbing this opportunity to pressure you.

"And if this proceeds, that makes you the mother of the family."

He placed an arm on the table with his index finger reaching out and started tapping on the table while the other fingers folded.

"Are you even able to cater on that responsibility?"

Your eyebrows furrowed at his question not completely understanding of what he meant by being this mother. Ryomen was ready to eat all that confusion up and tear you slowly a part. Maybe then he'll get answers from you or get you to back out?

"The mother is the representation of her husband's ruling. She takes care of young affiliates and mediates between them and her husband. Wives and partners of the members support the group in a peripheral way."

Ryomen licks his lower lip not even close to bring done about torturing your mind.

"Although you won't be participating on business activities because you'll be baring the most important responsibility aside all that."

You lifted your eyes and met his sharp red once staring down at you as if he was sucking all the life out of you. Your body language changed into a timid type crossing your arms and legs, showing how uncomfortable you are.

"Baring the future heir."

Your brain slowly connecting his words but you could barely utter a reply and suddenly noticed him eyeing parts of you that you felt sensitive about. He scanned you from your head to your breast as if he could see through your clothes and you just felt the need to cover your chest.

Ryomen exhales sounding a bit disappointed. It was clear to him that you knew so little of the position you were going to have and caught himself having his own second thoughts about this marriage.

"You know little yet you never opposed to your father's idiotic plan."

His comments were true, no one really prepared you for the responsibility. You were just told that you were going to be married which you greatly opposed too because who would want that!? And now his telling you that your greatest purpose in marriage is baring his child?

"It's clear that you're a family of leeches."

What. The pressure on your shoulders suddenly felt more tensed, your mind quickly shifted to the most offensive thing you ever heard. Hearing him insulting your family struck you and easily boiled your blood, getting into your skin.

You scoffed admitting to yourself that it is true, this is an idiotic plan that your father decided on but what gives him the fucking right to insult your whole family? Calling us leeches? Parasites? when this is something his grandfather initiated.

Your eyes couldn't help but shift into a glare once you laid your eyes on him with anger filling your thoughts. Suddenly all your fears and worry were replaced with anger and without you noticing.

Ryomen did not feel a single fear from you though he does feel offended that you suddenly got some guts starring at him like you can take him down.

"Don't look at me like that."

He commanded but you only stood up from your seat with both of your arms placed on the table.

"You, do not. Insult. My family. You desperate fuck!"

You say as if you spat at his face with venom in your mouth. Although your intention was only to say how rude he was and to never say such thing again, to him you sounded like you were warning him - giving him an 'or else' tone.

Now Ryomen can take any insult you throw at him, all his life his been hearing how much of a dinasty child he is, how criminalized his family is and how much of a mole they are in the industry. He was able to take all the harshest things in but what he doesn't take lightly is when you raise your voice at him.

He demands respect at all times and for him, respect is given to him all his life that even the person who wanted him to get killed had given him that.

Ryomen was quick to hear that change of tone, he was a ruler himself and no one under him has ever again raised their voice at him especially after an event where he had to cut out an affiliates tongue. Ryomen felt disrespected and carefully stood up himself with his shadow slowly took over your small figure. His face blank but his demeanor carried so much authority.

Slightly your body twitched in fear that you hoped he didn't noticed it.

"Do not. Raise your voice."

His tone was deep and frightening. It was weakening the strength of your feminity but you kept your stance cause one thing you've learned from your family is being a hard head gives you peace.

"Then don't. Disrespect. My family."

A stare off is happening between the two of you but the longer the seconds came by, the awkward it was making you feel inside since he wouldn't back down. Your anger subdued by the second and your eyes shifting back into your normal round once where they were round and filled with emotions that can easily be read.

Ryomen remained silent, still in the same aura but once he started to notice the change in your eyes, his mind started to question about the sudden change of mood in the room. Is this fake? A tactic? Usually in business it takes a lot of days or even years before enemies become allies but in this case those puppy eye orbs was giving him a feeling that he hasn't come to understand yet.

Women have always been so submissive and pleasing towards him. They were the once to make the first move. At first he didn't understand why but two things were always reaching his ears and those were his looks and status. He had come to understand his gifts and once took advantage of it to which got him in trouble from his mother, who telling him how important his genes are and that it must not be thrown away nor given to reckless decisions for it was far more precious than gold. Thus why he never physically acts on his lust and releases it on other activities.

Ryomen trust his mother but she was always scaring potential women away, the reason why his grandfather always had a hard time finding him the proper partner because he wasn't the only final boss these women have to face.

Ryomen's mother reminds him to look for someone who was is pure and true to her traidtion, religion, family and most importantly to herself.

Suddenly the small event between the two of you went back into his mind and realized how protective you are to your family even though you were being forced into something against your will, you remained loyal and respectful to your blood. That was something that didn't go unnoticed.

"Welcome back, Master."

Uraume greeted and watched his master enter the passenger seat behind him. He was observing his Master's expression since he looks preoccupied.

Uraume gave him a moment to relax before he decided to ask how he was.

"Did it go as you expected, Master?"

Ryomen releases a heavy sigh. He barely rested everyday, an 8 hour of sleep is never enough to get him through the day of facing the fuck ups of the people in his life and now he has to deal with this arranged marriage that will probably be another disaster on his shoulders considering how clueless you were.

"No."

Ryomen coldly answers and leaned his head back on the seat and slanted a bit starring at the ceiling of the car before closing his eyes. He doesn't know what to think because he was too tired.

Uraume kept silent seeing how tired his master is and proceeded to start the car.

As Ryomen was relaxing, his mind suddenly remembered the look on your face as you tried to fight the cowardness crawling in your skin. Yes, he could see through you. It's a talent he was able to possess, the ability to read people during their weakest moments. It was always so funny to him watching the iris of his prey shiver in fear, but you? It wasn't so funny when your eyes strated to shift back to normal. He suddenly asked himself if your eyes had always been so round and...beautiful.

They weren't begging for mercy, your eyes they were...deep and empty. Pitch black and mysterious that every second he looked into your eyes, it made him feel fragile. Just like how he saw fears, yours were telling him that you saw his past. Your eyes were speaking for Sympathy. To be understood. They looked, Authentic...Innocent. What the fuck is this? It felt like witchery.

Ryomen felt the vehicle's vibration as it was turned on. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the window next to him seeing his other vehicle that he told to take you home. It wasn't as heavily tinted as his but it was dark enough to blurr the person's face inside. He easily spots your figure sitting at the back seat. He tried to analyze what you were doing without realizing that you were looking out your window as well. As soon as he knew you were looking at his window he turned his head to the front of the car catching Uraume's blank stare at the rear view mirror, starring back at him.

"Should we head home, Master?"

But Ryomen ignored his request only looking out the window. He didn't want to to answer because answering might just show an emotion he wasn't familair with and he doesn't want to be unprepared for whatever it is this annoying emotion was.

Uraume hasn't moved and looked to the side without moving his head, the car you were present in had started to leave the parking. His eyes then shifted back to the rear view mirror where he found his master still looking out the widow with his chest heavy breathing.

Now, Uraume had been standing beside Ryomen for decades, through thick and thin. Uraume can easily tell if something is of his master's insterest. The moment your vehicle was out of view, his master then shifts his head to the rear view mirror. It was clear to Uraume that his master found some interest in you which will be good news to the boss.

This is actually not his master's first time to meet up with his brides. His been offered a lot of marriages for years considering their family's background in the industry, a lot of families have been offering their daughters to him. Some were genuine, some were greedy and some were simply trying to get by life.

So far, a lot of these women have not caught his interest simply because Uraume could see how his Master can barely spared a glance at them after meeting them in person. His master was always putting his responsibilities first. But this meet up with you gives a different air judging by how his Master reacted after parting ways with you.

"How was it, darling? Was it bad as the others or perhaps even worst?"

Mrs. Sukuna had approached his son the moment he stepped into the living room of the house. She had been waiting for him the whole day as she usually does, a mother simply wants to check the health of her child every moment she can.

Ryomen doesn't answer her and let's her remove the coat he was wearing. Mrs. Sukuna handed the coat to the maid on her right before grabbing the glass of whiskey from the maid on her left, handing it to her son and dismisses them.

"I saw her pictures, read her background and ugh! I must say she looks cheap. Not in our level, your grandfather always picks the worst one."

His grandfather experienced this many time during his lifetime thus why it was their role to lead the grandson's future. Old Mr Sukuna had introduced a lot of candidates to his grandon that he found suitable but they don't last after meeting up with his family.

Ryomen's mother has a bit of a high pitch voice when she finds interest in the topic she talks about. One of those topics were judging the women that her son meets. Sometimes these women look good but never fit enough to be married to her son.

But Ryomen doesn't really care much about marriage or women. He just wanted the throne, the sole purpose of why his allowing himself to be married, wanting his own way of ruling the clan, his authority. His grandfather has been feeding him all his life the ego he has now and thus why he was always been aiming for the throne.

But because of his mother's judgment, it causes the delay in dethroning.

"Xayah is the perfect choice and I am sure of it."

To the mother and son's surprise, old Mr. Sukuna had joined them in the living room. The old man usually rested in the west wing of the mansion, loved his own peace without hearing any nags since he became a widower. He adores his alone time and likes to be away from Ryomen's mother since she was a fiesty, mouthy woman whom his son married but barely understood the tradition of the family.

On the other hand, Mrs. Sukuna is indeed as he described but only wanted the best for her son...and the fact that old Mr. Sukuna doesn't let her in the decision which causes her to intervene more.

"You're always so sure of the women you introduced to my son yet where are they now? They cannot bare the responsibility of being his wife. If anything, I should do the picking."

Mrs. Sukuna snobbishly answered as she sat at one of the single seater.

One of the reasons why Ryomen doesn't interfere is because of this ridiculous opposing statements that his mother and grandfather have. He just sits back at one of the single seater and let's them argue.

Old Mr. Sukuna shook his head feeling displeased with the mother's idea and tapped the edged of his wooden cane on the floor causing a thud that echoed in the room.

"A woman who is blinded by her son's worth could not choose a proper partner. Thus why I take over since Ryomen here barely knows anything about dating."

Ryomen smirks after taking a sip of his glass and comments.

"I believe I was told that violence is far more important than dating."

Old Mr. Sukuna took a seat at one of the velvet couches facing the lightened fireplace.

"That's your mother's doing."

He mumbled before landing himself on the couch. Mrs. Sukuna rolled her eyes since she was always hearing the blame as to why her son thinks so highly of himself but in her eyes it was all the Grandfather's doing since her husband was mostly ruling the clan in Nagoya, the one that was able to shape Ryomen was the grandfather since he spent so much time shaping him to be his next heir.

"So tell me, how is she? I personally haven't met her but her father tells me so much about how wife material his daugther is."

Mrs. Sukuna couldn't help but role her eyes hearing the old man's words. She knows how naive he can be when it comes to trusting people, especially where these people agrees to his accord.

Meanwhile Old Mr. Sukuna wore this hopeful look on his face that his grandson indeed had a great time. False, he did not. After you raised your voice at him he found you disrespectful and not emotionally intelligent. His moral compass is too weak to make him realize his fault on the situation because what he said was factual to him.

Ryomen circled the glass of whiskey that his fingers held as he recalls the meeting with you. He remembered how you told him so easily that you did not like the marriage at all.

"She's...tactful."

And how you asked him about his point of view on the marriage.

"Nosy."

How you didn't know much about the position you were going to be responsible for.

"Naive."

And the reaction he received when he insulted your family.

"Reckless."

Old Mr. Sukuna's hopeful face slowly changed into disappointment. His face suddenly looked drained losing hope in his grandson's case. Meanwhile Mrs. Sukuna felt victory was on her side once again wearing that small smirk ok the side of his face as she took a sip on her glass.

Meanwhile Ryomen was still in his thoughts remembering how you glared at him, raised your voice at him in defending your idiotic father's honor.

And those deep...depths, in your eyes. That made him feel...fragile, weak.

"She should be kept near me if that's the case."

⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊

part viii

#jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #dark fantasy #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #uraume #uraume x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen x reader #anime x reader #sukuna x reader

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bluegekk0 · 2 years ago

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the exiled god and the old light

au lore below the cut:

the sibling gods who guarded the dreams and nightmares of mortals. in the past, they were united in the dream realm, but grimm's fondness towards the mortals, and the radiance's obsession with living up to their father's legacy brought conflict upon them, and the resulting battle ended with grimm's defeat and exile from the dream realm

---

grimm has always been a rebellious type. unlike his sister, he did not care for worship, and instead found pleasure in mingling with the mortals. he watched over their nightmares, but was no stranger to causing them on purpose and feeding on their essence for his own enjoyment. however, he was just as fascinated by the arts created by the mortals, and grew fond of theatre in particular. unfortunately, his actions did not go unnoticed by his sister, which caused conflict between them, eventually resulting in a battle that he lost. he was exiled from the dream realm, and weakened after the fight, he was forced to flee to the nightmare realm, now split from the plane of dreams. he continued to guard and feed on the nightmares of bugs, but in order to sustain his physical form, he became a slave to the endless cycle of death and rebirth, as the nightmare heart was unable to support the body indefinitely and needed to recycle the flame. he had the choice to burn the physical form and remain in the nightmare realm, and yet, over the years, he gained a certain fondness for the mortals, a fondness which eventually turned to envy. he saw them create bonds, fall in love and make the best of their short lives. he craved a deep connection with someone, but feared getting attached, as he knew that he would outlive any of his loved ones. the troupe, which he formed soon after his exile, was the closest he had to a family, though it wasn't enough: he was still lonely. he tried to distract himself with the pleasures offered by the mortal plane, he drank wine, he made love, and yet it still wasn't enough to fill the hole in his heart. he wouldn't find true happiness until he met the king of hallownest, whom he would start a relationship with following the latter's hibernation

---

the radiance despised her brother's affinity for the mortals. unlike many gods of the dream realm, she did not possess a physical form. she believed in the old ways, where the worship received by the lower beings was the only acceptable relationship with them. she saw grimm's actions as betrayal of their father's trust, and believed that he was not worthy of the powers given to him. after grimm's exile, she remained in the dream realm, unwilling to follow in the footsteps of the other gods. what she did not realize was that the mortals, while easy to intimidate, worked in simple ways. with many of the gods residing in their plane, they gravitated towards believing in what they could see and touch, and over time abandoned the radiance. watching her followers slowly leave her terrified her, but her breaking point would not come until later, when the moths abandoned their ways and chose to follow the pale king. she felt nothing but disdain for him from the moment he arrived in hallownest. she knew he was not born a higher being, that he was a false god, and yet he would still slowly gain followers, a fact which infuriated her. over time, she was almost entirely forgotten, and in a desperate attempt to regain her worship and preserve her father's legacy, she began to infect the mortals' dreams, breaking their minds and forcing them to follow her. however, while the infection claimed the lives of many and lasted many years, it was eventually brought to an end by one of the pale king's vessels. she died overwhelmed the void united, an ancient enemy, the same being her father sacrificed himself to defeat and seal away down in the abyss many centuries prior

(note: the details of their backstories might still change, as i'm actively thinking of new ideas and trying to piece together the chunks of story i have in my head)

#hollow knight #feral pk au #hk grimm #nightmare king grimm #hk radiance #the radiance #gekko.art #nkg #radiance #fpk au: designs

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holdinggrudges · 3 months ago

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splinters in my knuckles - ruby

pairing: ruby x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, angel!reader, reader is an angel in an afab vessel, mostly gn!reader (she/her used once), enemies to lovers (in a sense), implied sam x reader, brief but explicit samruby, voyeurism, dubious consent (the sex is consensual but some of the scenes leading up are questionable), RUBY HAS A HAPPY TRAIL AND A BUSH IDC, dom!rudy/sub!reader, wall sex, oral sex (ruby receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), thigh riding, name calling/degradation (whore, slut), use of angel as a pet name, religious imagery

word count: 6.6k

summary: It would not be your first choice to work with the demon girl. But the younger Winchester, the boy with the demon blood, seems to have grown quite fond of her. And Dean, well…he, like you, doesn’t trust her, you can tell, but he trusts his brother more implicitly than you’ve seen some of your brethren trust their own. And so Dean Winchester insists, and every angel in heaven knows that, in the end, what the righteous man wants, the righteous man will get. But you have a job to do. Your mission is to protect the brothers, and Ruby’s presence sticks in your mind like a splinter. She’s dangerous, she must be. You need to neutralize the threat.

notes: you can all thank daisy for this one. i have been enabled. also, it seems i am genuinely incapable of writing fic without mentioning sam idk. ALSO also (sorry guys i'm a yapper), i love spn angels. i find them so interesting (probably the religious trauma idk) and it is VERY MUCH EVIDENT in this fic. the religious undertones are overtoning, frankly. and, btw, the title is from harry styles' only angel, which i thought was appropriate. anyways... i hope you enjoy my first ruby fic just know that it shan't be the last >:)

crossposted on ao3

It would not be your first choice to work with the demon girl. Nor would it be your second, or your third. She’s a traitor even by hell’s standards, and you don’t trust her as far as you can throw her (which, admittedly, would be quite far. You’re still getting the hang of the human turns of phrase). But the younger Winchester, the boy with the demon blood, seems to have grown quite fond of her. And Dean, well…he, like you, doesn’t trust her, you can tell, but he trusts his brother more implicitly than you’ve seen some of your brethren trust their own. And so Dean Winchester insists, and every angel in heaven knows that, in the end, what the righteous man wants, the righteous man will get. Besides, you’ve grown a fondness of your own for the Winchesters, even, and perhaps especially, the boy king, as it were; their judgement seems to be generally quite sound, and their hearts nearly always in the right place.

You’re cordial with her when you must be. It’s not often that you meet her face to face. The Winchesters like you, you think—more than they like most of the angels, at least—and they must know you’re not too keen on interacting with this Ruby. Though they call on you and Castiel like you’re their own personal guard dogs, though you can sense her continued presence all over Sam everytime you speak to them, the men do a good job of keeping the two of you entirely separate. You’d find it considerate if you didn’t have a job to do. Your mission is to protect the brothers, and Ruby’s presence sticks in your mind like a splinter. An itch you can’t scratch. The way she occupies your thoughts—she’s dangerous, she must be. You need to neutralize the threat.

You cannot track her, not the way you could anyone else. You’d fear she warded herself physically, but a few pointed conversations with the Winchesters lead to a bemused Dean telling you the shroud comes from some sort of spell. A hex bag. This, you know, will be much easier to deal with than any sort of markings on the skin—or, Father forbid, the skeleton—of her vessel. All you have to do is sabotage the spell, and all you have to do to accomplish that is find her.

It’s not hard. Ruby may be hidden from you, but Sam is not. The younger Winchester is a bleeding heart; he trusts you. Following him to his pet devil, an angel on his shoulder, is no challenge at all. The motel he meets her at is exceptionally normal. Somehow, you expected something overtly evil. She is hellspawn, after all. But the room is simple, nearly identical to the ones you’d grown accustomed to Sam and Dean calling you to over the past few months. You’re not sure you like the association.

You slip the hex bag from its place tucked in the pocket of a coat, careful to keep your actions as silent as possible. You may not be visible to the two occupants of the room, but if you make enough noise to draw them from their conversation, your cover may still be blown. Strangely, as you carefully untie the knot at the top of the cloth, you feel almost…guilty. It is true, you suppose, that you’ve betrayed Sam’s trust by following him here, but what you’re doing is for his good, in the end. That’s what you tell yourself as you remove a bone from the cloth and replace the bag exactly where you found it. If Sam Winchester’s trust is the only casualty in keeping him and his brother alive, then that’s simply a sacrifice you will have to make.

Your sabotage works exactly as you expected it to. The next time you search for her, when you’re sure Sam is occupied on some hunt or another, you find her as easily as you’d find anyone else, demonic or otherwise. It sends something smug up your spine, and your wings, which usually after flying would return to relaxing at your back, flutter and spread wide like a preening bird, watching Ruby wipe the blood off her knife on the shirt of the fallen demon at her feet.

It would be so easy to smite her, here and now. She could fight you, perhaps, if you don’t quite have the element of surprise you think you do, but she has no way to kill you. Her puny knife has no effect on the heavenly host. Still, something gives you pause. A hesitance that emanates somewhere near your gut, rather than your mind. It makes no sense, but gives you a moment to think. You may be willing to sacrifice the Winchesters’ trust in you, but Heaven needs the begrudging trust they’ve gained with the righteous man. Dean may not like Ruby, but for you to kill her despite their hesitant allegiance…he will see it as a betrayal, and in his eyes, a betrayal on your behalf is a betrayal on behalf of Heaven itself. So no, you can’t kill her, not without reason—a provable reason.

You assume it would be fairly easy to find one, but Ruby doesn’t seem to do much of anything at all. She meets up with Sam, interrogates the occasional demon, but outside of that she seems mostly to be lying in wait. 9 times out of 10 you find her drinking, eating. Nothing really all that debaucherous at all. The lack of anything substantial should soothe your mind, but, if anything, you fixate even more with every day that passes by with no proof. Obsessive, every moment you have to yourself is spent over Ruby’s shoulder, watching. She will slip up, you know it, and when she does, you will be there to see it.

You find yourself watching as she patters around a motel room. From your station at the corner of the room, you can see it all. She picks up a takeout menu, she picks up a phone, sets them both down, seemingly changing her mind. She stretches her arms over her head, and your eyes drop and catch on a strip of smooth, tan skin above the waistband of her jeans where the tank top she wears has ridden up. Her bare skin holds your attention even as she drops her arms. She doesn’t fix her top. Your heart—your vessel’s heart, technically, that still beats to keep the skin and muscles that contain your angelic form from decaying and rotting around you—stutters and begins to race. It’s such a novel event that you don’t notice Ruby’s approach until it’s too late.

She stops in front of you, less than a foot away, and you are suddenly stuck between a rock and a hard place. You cannot back up, the bedside table directly at your back prevents you from doing so. Obviously, you cannot move forward past her. You’re stuck.

Ruby faces you, but she does not look at you. Instead, her gaze casts downwards, and you follow her eyes to see her chest, cleavage accentuated by the deep cut neckline of her shirt. Your hand twitches, warm at your side. Her hands shift to the hem of her top, fingers hooking underneath it. With her arms in front of her, the space between you grows even slimmer. You don’t breathe, you have no need to; still, you hold your breath as if it would help you pass undetected.

Time seems to slow—every inch of revealed skin feels like it takes hours as she removes her shirt. Your gaze lingers on every one, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes take in acres of tan skin, catching on the tuft of coarse hair below her navel. It becomes increasingly clear with each passing moment that she wears nothing underneath, clearer and clearer until her bare torso is laid out in front of you and there is—

There is something wrong with your vessel. It should have been obvious from the moment your heart began to race, but you allowed the hellspawn to distract you. Now, though, it is undeniable. Your skin is hot, especially your face, and your pupils are blown wide as if the room was pitch dark. Your muscles are tight, something twisting in your chest, your gut. She turns to the side, facing the bed, and stretches again, and the shift of her shoulders makes your heart beats so loudly you fear the sound will give you away. Most concerningly of all, though, is your wings. Again, they spread wide and preening at your back, almost as if you were presenting them. Something is very, very wrong.

You stumble back in an effort to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, and you knock into the table in the process. Ruby’s attention snaps to the noise, and the grin on her face leaves no doubt in your mind. She’s done this. She knows you’re here, she knows you’re onto her, and she’s performed some sort of spell—though you know of none that would have this effect on your kind.

In the split second between the flutter of your wings and your leaving, you swear you hear her laugh.

You’re determined to keep your distance for a few days. You have no idea what she’s done to you to make your vessel react like that, and you have no idea what other effects it could have. Despite your urge to tail her even closer in response, you know it would be unwise.

Except you can’t stop seeing the way she grinned, like she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Except you can’t stop seeing her. The expanse of her stomach, the small of her back dusted with soft peach fuzz. The dip between her breasts. Her visage plagues your mind incessantly, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself in a motel room, staring her down.

“I told you before, Ruby.” You’re so fixated that Sam’s voice startles you. You don’t know how you could have missed him; he sits on the edge of the bed, hands on Ruby’s waist where she stands between his legs. She cuts her eyes to the side, and if you weren’t sure there was no way she could see you, you’d be worried. “I’m not—I’m not doing that anymore. I meant it.”

That piques your interest. If you could prove to Dean that Ruby was drawing Sam back to the dark he’d been so adamant on keeping away from his brother, he certainly would not protest putting her down.

Ruby smirks, drawing her hand up Sam’s chest. “I heard you. But you can’t think I’d be opposed to some good, old-fashioned hedonism.” Then, in a mirror of her actions the last time you saw her, she draws her shirt over her head, letting it fall from her fingers carelessly. Sam’s fingers tighten on her waist. Yours tighten into fists at your sides. “Hmm?”

You really should leave. Following Sam to get to Ruby was one thing, but this, the look on his face, this is…vulnerable. You never wanted to get him caught up in your obsession, not like this. You shouldn’t be here.

But then Ruby leans forward, her mouth brushing his skin, to speak quietly in his ear. You can’t quite make out what she says, but you’re almost sure she says your name, falling like a hymn from honeyed lips. Entranced, you take a step towards them just as Sam groans, his hand slipping across her skin to settle at the small of her back and drag her closer. He sinks his teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and you can almost feel it. The warmth of her back under your palm, the plush of her skin beneath your teeth.

Your eyes meet Ruby’s, the warm, chocolate brown irises of her vessel drawing you in, so much so that you ignore the echoing strangeness of the eye contact until it finally clicks in your mind. She’s looking at you; not just near you, but at you, as if she could see you, but that is not possible. Although, you consider the way she walked straight up to you the last time she antagonized you. The way she’s looking straight towards you now. She shouldn’t be able to, but she knows exactly where you are. And she is doing this on purpose, you know she is. And you are done playing her game.

Your wings flutter, taking you out of the motel room and into the quiet rose garden of an elderly midwestern woman’s heaven. It’s peaceful here, and it leaves you with room to think, finally, a million miles away from that devil. What she’s done….you’re not really sure, exactly, what she’s done, but you know that it is vile, and you’re sure that if Dean Winchester knew what you do, he would not hesitate to agree that Ruby needs to be neutralized.

Your hand tingles with phantom sparks, your teeth grinding where you pace along the edge of the garden. Righteous man be damned, the next time you get her alone, you will put that blasphemous creature down, so help you God. Heaven will thank you, in the end.

You must wait. It’s hard to do so now that you’ve made your mind up, but patience is a virtue. The last thing you want is to end up in a similar position to the last time. Sam Winchester must be as far away from Ruby as possible when the deed is done. In the end, it takes two days for the distance to be wide enough for you to feel comfortable.

Ruby lounges on a motel bed when you arrive. Her eyes are closed, but her smile tells you she knows you’re here. So much for taking her by surprise. “You know, I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” she says, speaking out loud to what to her is essentially an empty room. But, of course, she opens one eye to look right at you. “How about you come out and play, huh?”

Her voice, so taunting, draws a billowing sort of rage from your chest. You cross the room before you appear before her, just so you don’t prove her right. “There should have been no way for you to even tell a difference,” you tell her, your own voice tight with your growing frustration. She’s toying with you.

She rolls her eyes, her head lolling to the side to look at you. “Chill, feathers. Don’t get your halo in a twist.” She pushes herself up and tosses her legs off the side of the bed, now sitting facing you where you stand near the wall. Her hair is mussed from the cheap pillows. Your mind unhelpfully provides you with an image of your fingers smoothing it down. “I thought it was only fair, seeing as you decided to ruin my hex bag. Was I supposed to let every holy roller from on high come and zap my ass just because you wanted to shadow me?”

That certainly would’ve made your life a lot easier. You shift on your feet, straightening your spine as you stare her down. “So you have placed a spell upon me?” At least you’re not going crazy.

Ruby scoffs. “No, I placed a spell upon myself, genius,” she retorts, her voice mocking as she shoots your words back at you. The irritation in your chest sparks and shoots down your spine where it twists into…something else. “Just so I’d know if you or any of your buddies were coming after me. Came in handy, though.” She shifts her eyes, then, from your face to somewhere to the side and just behind you, and she grins—that same, infuriating, ‘you’re playing right into my hand’ type grin that got you here in the first place. “Your wings are pretty, angel. You preening like that for me?”

She’s bluffing. It doesn’t matter what sort of spell she’s using, there is absolutely no way she could see your wings. Her eyes would melt from her skull before she could even catch a glimpse. Still, your jaw grows tense, teeth clicking together as you close your wings behind your back self-consciously. “What have you done to me?” you growl, taking a step towards her that you hope is threatening.

She just laughs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Your eyes flick down to the neckline of her shirt before you force them back to hers. “You poor thing,” she coos, the condescension twisting your gut even further. “You don’t even know you want me, do you?”

Her words give you pause. Arousal. That is what you feel twisting around your spine and your gut and dipping between your legs, that is what has had your heart racing and your skin heating and your mind stuttering and stalling. Like many things when it comes to Ruby, it shouldn’t be possible—not for you, not for any part of the heavenly host—but as she points it out, you cannot deny it. Not to yourself, anyway. “I am an angel of the Lord,” you say, your voice carefully level. Purposefully impartial. “The only thing I want is your head on a pike.”

She doesn’t seem to believe you. In fact, she doesn’t seem threatened at all, hasn’t since you got here. “Sure. So why don’t you kill me then?” She stands and takes a step towards you. You take a step back. “If you want me dead so bad, why didn’t you kill me right after you sabotaged my hex bag?” For every step she takes towards you, you take another away. It doesn’t deter her—it only makes her smirk as she mocks you. “Or when you were watching me change? Or, you know what, how about when you were watching me and Sam?” Your back hits the wall, and she laughs in your face. “You know, I think he likes you—”

“Enough,” you grit out, ignoring, once again, the pounding of your heart. She stands so close. You could count her eyelashes, if you wanted to. You almost do.

Her lips turn down in a little pout. You kind of want to bite it. “Oh, don’t get all upset, angel,” she purrs, lifting her hand to brush her fingers against a strand of your hair. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you watch her eyes follow the movement. It’s a little intoxicating. “I like you too. Why else do you think I put up with you trailing me like a lost puppy for so long?”

The space between you—what little remains of one, anyway—sparks with tension, heavy and thick like the air before a storm. You gather yourself, dragging your voice up from where it’s dropped out along with your stomach. “I don’t…” you trail off, lost for words to describe this because you don’t know. In the abstract, of course, you understand. Sex, desire—you understand these things in perhaps the same way a human might understand your metaphysical form. Something entirely theoretical, something that wasn’t meant for you. But here you are, wanting, yearning. Desiring. And you are left with no concept as to how.

Ruby smiles again, but this one is…not quite so biting. Not soft, nothing about her is soft, but it’s something close. “I know,” she mutters, and her voice brushes over your skin brimming with mirth, a joke passed between the two of you that you’re not sure you quite understand. Then her hand slips behind your head, firm against the back of your neck, and you don’t care anymore. “That might just be the best part.”

Then she draws you in, presses her lips against yours, and as your eyes flutter shut, you know you were wrong. She is not soft, not even now, not even as she kisses you, deep and intent, but her lips where they move against yours, the skin on her face where you lift your hand to hold her, they are soft. They are plush and warm and deceiving, and you understand, in an instant, why Eve bit the apple. You sink your teeth into Ruby’s bottom lip, swallowing her groan as sweet, ripe fruit.

You chase her lips as she pulls away, and she laughs as you land another kiss, two, three, before she catches you with a hand buried in the hair at the back of your neck. “You sure you’ve never done that before?” she teases, tugging at your hair and sending shocks of pleasure-pain down your neck until you open your eyes to meet hers. “You’re a quick learner, angel.”

It takes you a moment to catch your breath again, your hands smoothing down her neck and across her shoulders. Her skin is warm under your hands, and you want to feel more. You want to feel it all, you want to draw up a map on her flesh, mark down all the places that make her shudder. “My…vessel, perhaps—” you start, but she interrupts you before you can get much further.

“I don’t actually care,” she tells you, and though the words are blunt, they are not unkind. You think she may be just as impatient as you are. Her hand drops from your neck to your waist and the other comes up to meet it, shoving their way under your shirt to press against your bare skin. “I’ve got something better planned for that mouth of yours. Come on, arms up.”

Ever obedient, you lift your arms and hers follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head. You feel her heated gaze like a physical thing as it roves over your skin, a phantom touch as her eyes linger on the line where the fabric of your bra ends and the swell of your breast begins. She raises her eyes to meet yours again, and then she smirks, and for the third time, you watch her remove her top. The difference is this time, you get to touch.

She presses you back against the wall in another all-consuming kiss, distracting you from her hands fiddling with the button of your jeans. You give as good as you get, a new mission growing clearer and clearer in front of you. You want to know every part of her, you want to leave your fingerprints on every inch of her skin. You start at the small of her back, drawing her closer until she shoves her knee between your thighs, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. The noise that it draws out of your throat shocks you, leaves you panting into Ruby’s mouth as she smirks against yours.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, ducking her head to lay a line of biting kisses up your throat as her fingers finally pop the button on your pants. “I’m not so bad, am I?”

You slide your hands over her waist, drawing your fingers through the hair at the center of her lower belly. Your mouth waters at the thought of it. “No. No, you’re…” you trail off, too busy cupping her breasts in your hands to come up with a word to describe what she’s making you feel right now.

You feel her moan against her neck, and the vibrations of it against your skin encourage you to brush your thumb over her nipple. She rewards you with the sensation of her teeth against your collarbone and her fingers hooking into your belt loops and dragging you bodily forward. Your senses are so overwhelmed that you don’t even realize she’s flipped your positions until she’s using your belt loops to pull your hips against hers as she backs against the wall.

“You know, angel, I’ve gotta say…you look good like this,” Ruby tells you, dragging a line of hot, wet kisses all the way up your throat and smoothing her hands over your stomach, your ribs. She pauses when she gets to your bra, paying a little extra attention to your clothed breasts and huffing out a laugh when it gets you to whine. But, soon enough, her hands continue their journey until they land on your shoulders and begin to push you down, down, down, until she’s got you kneeling in front of her. She draws a finger along your jaw before using just the tip to tilt your head back, until you can see her smirking down at you. Towering over you. She’s an idol, and you’ve fallen at her feet. “But I think you look better on your knees.”

There isn’t a view on Earth or in Heaven that could compare to the one you have right now. You draw your hands up her thighs, the denim of her jeans rough against your palms. With your hands on her hips and your eyes cast up to meet hers, you press your lips to the soft skin above her waistband, just to watch her pretty lips part around a gasp. And then, because you can’t help yourself, because you’ve wanted to since you first saw it, you lave your tongue over the trail of hair there, a low, satisfied moan escaping your throat as you do.

You can feel her lungs inflate with the sharp breath she takes. Her knuckles brush your throat as she fumbles with her jeans’ button. “Damn, that fucking face,” she mutters, shoving her jeans down her hips. You take over pretty quickly, dragging them down her legs until she steps out and kicks them away. “Can’t wait to cover it in my cum. C’mere, pretty thing.” She gets a hand in your hair, firm on the back of your head, and then draws you closer, practically shoving your face against the fabric of her panties.

You can feel the warmth of her through the lace, and you groan, open mouth dragging over her as she uses her grip on your hair to shove you even closer. God, you can smell her arousal—it’s so distinctive, sharp and musky, and your mouth waters with the need to taste it. You stick your tongue out, moaning as it drags over the rough fabric.

“Oh, you’re just a natural, aren’t you, angel?” Ruby says, her voice pitched deep and almost raspy. It sends a shiver down your spine to know that you’re the reason for that. “You want it? You wanna taste?” You don’t even need to breathe, and yet you’re panting like a dog against her. You nod, and she reprimands you with a sharp tug at your hair. “Uh-uh, ask. Come on, nice and polite. I wanna hear it.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice. Right now, you’d rip your grace from your chest and present it to her with a bow without a second thought if it meant you could get your mouth on her. “Can I taste you? Please?”

Her hand leaves your hair in favor of hooking her fingers under the waistband of her panties. “I’ve got an angel begging at my feet,” she mutters, a short laugh punctuating the statement. “Yeah. You can have it.”

It takes longer than it maybe should for her to tug her underwear off, entirely due to your unwillingness to budge even an inch from where you’re pressed against her. The fabric snags on your nose, your chin, but soon enough, it’s gone. Or, at the very least, out of your way. It makes no difference to you; you get what you want either way.

Although, now that the opportunity is right in front of you, you hesitate. You want to do this right; you want to hear more of those sweet, raspy moans, you want to hear your name in that low, affected voice of hers. But you have no idea where to start.

Ruby, of course, has no patience for your internal dilemma. She shoves her hand into your hair and drags you in, her stance wide to leave room for you. “Do I have to do everything for you?” she complains, even as she presses your face against her cunt, your nose buried in a shock of coarse curls. “You were so eager before, fuckin’ begging for it. You really gonna get shy on me now?” Well. When she puts it like that.

You open your mouth, experimentally pressing your tongue flat against her wet cunt. The taste of her explodes on your tongue, the sensation so overwhelming that for a moment, it’s almost blinding, deafening—the entire function of your mind too focused on consuming her to make use of any of your other useless senses. The two of you moan in tandem, and in an instant, your hesitance fades, replaced with a gluttonous desire for more, more of her taste on your tongue, more of the feeling of her pussy against your lips.

Your hands slip from her hips to spread over her ass, pulling her hips forward to press her more firmly against your mouth. You’re not sure what’s more obscene: the noises coming from you as your tongue works her over—the slurping, the whining and moaning—or the words falling from Ruby’s lips between her moans.

“Look at you, angel,” she coos, using her hand on your head to guide you even closer, even deeper. You press your tongue inside her, and the gasping moan you pull from her is more beautiful than the choirs of Heaven by far. “Eating me out like a pro. Only took one taste to turn you into the perfect little whore for me, huh?”

Her words only spur you on, encouraging you to be better, to press deeper. You’re glad you don’t need to breathe because you know, as your nose smushes against her clit, that you wouldn’t be able to. Her core spasms around your tongue as you fuck it in and out of her, the entire bottom half of your face slick with her cloying wetness.

Her thighs have started to tremble beside your head, and her hand holds you steady against the back of your skull as her hips rock against your face. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop—” she moans, as if you would ever dream of stopping, come Hell or high water. Not when her cunt is pulsing so beautifully, not when she’s keening with every movement of your tongue. Her hand twists in your hair, pulling at it, and you moan, muffled against her skin.

Her arms and her stomach and her thighs tense, and the whole world holds its breath. And then she cries out, her cunt gushing as she comes on your tongue; and she certainly fulfills her promise to cover you in her cum, smearing all over your mouth and chin. She’s breath-taking, riding out her orgasm with a firm grip in your hair just to make sure you stay right where you’re meant to be. You don’t want to pull away, anyway, lapping at her clit until she twitches with oversensitivity and quite literally drags you away.

For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, both panting and messy with her slick. That is, until she drops to her knees in front of you, on your level now, and drags you into a bruising kiss, moaning into your mouth when she tastes herself on your tongue. “Fuck, you’re so good, angel,” she murmurs, hardly even pulling back to talk, just muttering against your lips. “Gonna make you come so hard for that, gonna rock your multidimensional world.” Her hands paw at your jeans, shoving them down your hips as she licks into your mouth. You hardly even notice.

Your chest practically glows with the praise, and you draw your hands through her hair, smoothing it like you’d imagined when she’d first sat up what feels like a million years ago now. “It was good?” you ask when she pulls away, her forehead still pressed against yours, to yank your jeans down your legs, apparently frustrated with her inefficient shoving. You don’t pay attention to where they land, focused instead on the soft flush to her cheeks, exertion and pleasure coloring them rosy.

She lifts her eyes to meet yours and grins, snapping the elastic of your panties against your hip as she reprimands, “Don’t fish. I told you you were good, didn’t I? Greedy.” Her voice, while teasing, seems to hold some finality. Take what you get. You suppose if you wanted soft, if you wanted praise, you shouldn’t have chosen to do this with a demon. You don’t regret it for even a moment. “God, I can’t believe how good you look. I just know Sam’s gonna be so jealous that I’m the first person to touch you like this.”

You open your mouth to tell her you don’t think Sam would ever find out, not that you’re sure he’d care even if he did, but your words cut off with a gasp as she shoves her hand between your legs, cupping your clothed pussy with a soft pressure that sends sparks throughout your whole body. You hadn’t realized how much your cunt was aching for relief until now, with Ruby dangling it just out of your reach.

“You’re so wet,” she says, teasing a fingertip over you through ruined, messy fabric and laughing when it makes you whine. “Look at you. God’s perfect little soldier soaked through her panties like a slut, just from eating me out.”

You reach down, closing your fingers gently around her wrist. “Ruby…” You’ve never heard your voice sound like that, breathy and downright needy, and it almost shocks you when it reaches your ears. You’d be embarrassed, but it makes her eyes darken and the meat of her hand press more firmly against you, so instead you lean into it, brushing your lips against hers. “Please.”

She hums, her gaze flicking down to your lips. “Mm. Pretty whore,” she mutters, her breath puffing over your skin like the words are a physical thing, wrapping around your core and pulling tight. “Yeah. I’ll give you something to rut against.” Her fingers, deft and sure, tug the fabric of your panties aside to dip into your cunt, and her mouth swallows your gasp as she presses her lips to yours in a lingering kiss. All too soon, though, her hand draws back along with her kiss. She taps your waistband before flattening her hand there and shoving you back, just a little. “Take those off.”

You do as she orders, dragging your underwear down your legs and placing them to the side once they’re off, although you think they might be well and truly ruined. When you turn back to Ruby, she’s sitting on her calves with her back against the wall, her legs spread just enough that you can see her glistening cunt. Her eyes rove down your body, then she lifts them to meet yours again and beckons you closer. “C’mere.”

You shuffle towards her until she can reach out and grab you by the hips, guiding you to settle over her thigh. “Oh,” you breathe, finally understanding her intentions.

She laughs at you as she encourages you to lower, to settle fully over the plush of her thigh. Even just that, just straddling her, has you clutching her shoulders, searching for something solid. “Yeah. Oh.” Her hands on your hips guide them forward, rolling against her skin, and your mouth falls open—this is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. This is carnal, this is pure sin, and you’re not sure you’ve ever felt need like this before.

“Oh.” A broken record, that exclamation seems to be the only thing that can fall from your lips as her hands guide you back and forth, white hot pleasure zipping from your aching clit all the way up your spine. Your hands move from Ruby’s shoulders to bury themselves in her hair; you’d kiss her, but you’re not sure you’d be able to do much more than moan and whine into her mouth.

She doesn’t seem to mind. She moves one hand from your hip—the other still encouraging your movements—to cup one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your bra, brushing her thumb over your hard, pebbled nipple. You drop your head to her shoulder, your whimper muffled against the skin of her neck. “You were just made for this, weren’t you?” she coos, shoving your bra out of her way to get her hand on your bare skin. Your hips stutter in their rhythm, shocked by the chill of her hand against your sensitive nipple, but Ruby doesn’t hesitate, her other hand immediately dragging your hips right back into their rocking. “Forget the leagues of Heaven, baby, you were made to be my pretty little slut.”

“Oh, my—Ruby—” The pleasure builds and builds and builds in your core, and you can’t help but sink your teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, desperate for something, anything, to ground you against the overwhelming onslaught.

She rewards you with a bounce of her leg, pushing her thigh even firmer against your pussy. Your panting breaths catch on a sobbing moan, your hands white knuckled in her hair. The muscles in your abdomen go tense and tight, and you recognize it only because you had seen it in Ruby just minutes ago: you’re close. “Yeah? Are you gonna come for me, angel? Gonna soak my leg like the whore you are?”

Your cunt clenches, and you’re sure she can feel it where you’re pressed against her, humping her leg like a bitch in heat. You’re so close, you only need a nudge now to tip over the edge. “Please, please, Ruby. Please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, only that Ruby is the only one who could give it to you.

She knows what you need. Of course she does. She ducks her head to close her lips around your nipple, the warmth of her mouth and her sweet, velvety tongue dragging you ever closer to your peak, the coil in your gut growing ever tighter. And then her hands—both of them on your hips now—drag you, firm and slow, over her thigh at the same time her teeth graze your nipple, and the hint of pain coupled with the intense pleasure has the coil finally snapping, your pussy spasming as you come for her.

Your vision goes white, your whole body buzzing and humming with ecstasy. Distantly, through ringing ears, you think you hear something shatter. You can’t bring yourself to care, not with Ruby’s mouth on your breast and her hands guiding you as she works you through your orgasm.

Of course, once you come to and open your eyes—when had you closed them? You can’t remember—you can’t help but notice the room is significantly darker than it had been before. Ruby laughs and, with a hand on your chin, guides you to look to the side, where the shattered remains of the lamp’s lightbulb litter the floor. “Talk about explosive,” she quips, bouncing her thigh underneath you just to hear you whimper. “Next time, I’ll make sure to turn the lights off first.”

You could be cast out of Heaven for this. If you were found out…you could be killed. You certainly would never be allowed back into the pearly gates. But…as Ruby turns your face towards her again and draws you into a kiss, you think this may be worth falling for. At your back, your wings spread wide.

#grudges writes ;#ruby !!#dividers by toastray #ruby supernatural x reader #ruby supernatural #ruby supernatural x you #ruby supernatural smut #spn #supernatural smut #ruby x reader #x reader #wlw smut #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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everestgale · 2 months ago

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Do you have any Skeptunist headcanons you'd like to share?

[kicks down the door] IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE!

So, uh, I should probably warn everyone, it's 1500 words worth of random headcanons. And that's not even all of the HCs I have, I know there are a couple I'm forgetting... So yeah, it's gonna be long. I am so sorry, dear anon, I went a little crazy-

Well, have these old doodles of them that I think forgot to share before [I genuinely can't remember if I put these on my Tumblr before], just so that this isn't just one giant block of text. These are from like February or so, but I updated them to match their new designs [I gave them mouths], yippee!

Warning: I squish and stretch these guys like playdough, especially Opportunist. And by that, I mean they are likely very, very OOC, especially as they get further from the events of the game time-wise. So if you're looking for an accurate analysis and representation of how these two would interact, you might not like this post and my headcanons.

Also for context: this is all set in my main post-canon [post-Unknown Together ending] AU, where voices and vessels start off separately, and it would take a long, long, long while for them to meet. Without voices making vessels worse, and vessels making voices worse, everyone gets to slowly address their problems. Essentially, it's "everyone gets therapy" /j

With that said, Skeptunizm:

1. I like to describe the way they start their relationship / get to know each other with the word "curiosity". Opportunist is always scheming, always playing games, always trying to gain an upper hand. His mind is one giant puzzle, and Skeptic is very much curious about it and is drawn to figure out how Oppy thinks and what's going on in that rat brain. Oppy, meanwhile, is very much a suck-up, always looking for people to cozy up to, and so Skeptic, with his intelligence and general levelheadedness, feels like a natural choice for Opportunist to try to gain the favor of. He is interested in Skeptic, curious to see if he could get his trust and get him to join his schemes. Skeptic, of course, isn't stupid and doesn't fall for Oppy's tricks, but he's doing an investigation of his own, so he plays along. And so there they go, spending a lot of time together, naturally drawn to each other and curious about each other's strengths-

Okay, I know this is less "headcanon" and more of a "hear me out" on Skeptunist, but I had to write down exactly why I got so interested in these two in the first place. This is what started this train, and now I can't get off /silly

Here are some of my actual HCs:

2. One of the first HCs I made for these two: they are both yappers and will not shut up unless you interrupt them. In Oppy's case, he likes the sound of his own voice (/j), or rather, he likes to brag and talk all about his wonderful accomplishments (they are all greatly exaggerated, and no one buys it). Skeptic, meanwhile, is bursting with weird esoteric knowledge and interests, and he will talk about it all if not stopped. And part of the reason why they get along so well is that they actually *listen* to each other's endless yap: Skeptic listens to Oppy because he likes trying to piece together which parts of his stories are exaggerated and which parts are true, and of course, he's also taking extensive notes on Oppy and his bragging tendencies (still gotta figure out the rat). As for Oppy, I think at first, he is half-listening to Skeptic out of politeness, just to get on his good side, but at some point, he genuinely gets interested in some of the topics that Skeptic talks about, especially ones he thinks could be useful for his schemes and general persuasiveness, like psychology or linguistics/pragmatics. So they both talk a lot, but they also listen to each other-

Oh god, these are all so long- Well, more are under the cut!

3. Skeptic likes to investigate and learn about his fellow flock's experiences with the Construct, and since he and Oppy never really met there (outside of Razor and MoC, but they haven't even talked to each other once during those), Skeptic is extra curious about what the routes he was in were like, what the Princesses looked like, how he acted during said routes, and so on, and so forth. Of course, he knows that Oppy was a notorious betrayer and backstabber, but he wants to hear about it from the man himself. Generally though, Oppy avoids the topic (until they get closer) because he doesn't really like talking about the Construct (the only exceptions are Wraith and Witch, which he talks about quite a bit as an explanation to his hurting right ankle and back, but that's more of an Oppy HC)

4. On the topic of Oppy's ankle, once they are actually in a romantic relationship, Oppy will sometimes pretend that his ankle hurts (or back, but usually ankle) just so that Skeptic can carry him places. Skeptic can very easily tell when Oppy is lying, so sometimes he goes, "You're not fooling anyone, Oppy," but sometimes, he plays along and goes, "Fine, just this once though" (it will happen again). Though, if Oppy's ankle actually genuinely hurts, and he's having trouble walking, Skeptic can usually tell that, and he will very gently carry him around even without asking. God, these birds make me so sick-

5. On the topic of the game routes, I'd like to think they would also bond over their experience with HEA (now that Skeptic is there instead of Paranoid). I feel like neither of them is particularly fond of that route (especially the "lit torch" ending), and I actually had a fic idea where Skeptic comforts Opportunist after the latter wakes up from an HEA-flashback-nightmare. Yes, I did also reference that idea in my "It was in your nature" fic. I will write that idea one day. Maybe-

6. Oppy is really good at figuring out everyone's likes/preferences without ever asking them directly, and of course, he did so for Skeptic, too. So whenever he brings Skeptic gifts, he just oh-so-happened to know that Skeptic's favorite flowers are irises, that he likes super dark chocolate, and that his favorite dessert is carrot cake. Skeptic tries to get Oppy to divulge where he learned these from, but Oppy just charmingly smiles (the answer is Smitten, and Skeptic figures that out fairly quickly, Grey brothers my beloved <3)

7. On the topic of Oppy figuring stuff out without asking, I don't remember if I ever mentioned this on my Tumblr, but I used to HC Skeptic as touch-averse aroace / demiromantic ace. If you've seen my recent Skeptunist art, you can probably tell that I've since changed my mind (and finally decided that he is a demiromantic ace), but I do still think that Skeptic is pretty particular about hugs and prefers certain gestures over others. He doesn't think it's that big of a deal, however, and wouldn't complain about that to Oppy, and if he ever mentions it, it'd be more of an "isn't it interesting" kind of statement. Oppy does his best to respect these preferences because as much as he is an annoying little rat, he doesn't want to make Skeptic uncomfortable, especially once he genuinely grows to care about him <3

8. On the topic of physical touch, I HC touch-starved Oppy (because of that one PatD line where he asks the Narrator about what Dragon's hand feels like) who desperately tries to hide that fact from everyone. Skeptic eventually figures that out (with some help from Smitten), and while Oppy is not happy about that, he does actually really appreciate physical contact: hand holding, hugs, cuddles, and more, though, of course, he will never actually admit that out loud.

9. They enjoy playing games together, specifically card games or stuff like chess. For chess specifically, a friend suggested this idea where Oppy, at first, has no idea how to play chess besides the basics, and so when they play, it's them mostly just chatting, and Skeptic barely paying attention to the game (he doesn't want Oppy to feel bad about not understanding the game)... but over time, Oppy actually learns different strategies and whatnot, and while Skeptic isn't paying attention, Oppy just puts him in checkmate. Wait, I actually have an old crappy sketch of that idea.

There you go, them! I had a few other HCs related to them playing board games with other voices (mainly that they would be scarily good at a game like Codenames together), but with the HEA update, I actually think now that they both would have trouble playing board games on a "voices game night" so they (along with Hero) don't really participate in those, at least not for a while.

10. Oppy is very embarrassed to admit that he hates and has trouble sleeping in pitch darkness. Skeptic, meanwhile, is a night owl who will stay up until 4 am reading books or writing random notes, so Oppy likes falling asleep in Skeptic's room since he always has a light/candle with a very soft/warm light. Yes, this is all set up for cuddles. No, I am not sorry /silly

11. Skeptic writes his notes almost exclusively shorthand, and none of the voices can read what the hell they say. Except for Opportunist, who learned shorthand just so that he can understand Skeptic's notes (and do just a little bit of snooping). Skeptic is fully aware of what Oppy is doing, but he doesn't mind, most of his notes are random nonsense anyway.

12. Skeptic often gets very lost in his readings/investigations/writing/whatever, and other voices often have to remind him to eat and take breaks and stuff. Of course, Oppy is one of them, and he constantly pokes fun at Skeptic for his terrible eating habits. But he also definitely brings Skeptic snacks and lunch, and also frequently takes him places just so that Skeptic actually takes a break (I certainly did not write a fic that started from that idea). In general, Oppy does a lot of small favors for Skeptic, which originally started as him trying to get on Skeptic’s good side, but as they got closer, it just became part of Oppy’s love language, if that makes sense. I imagine neither of them is good with words, so both express care in literally any way that’s not words /lh /exaggerated.

13. They banter. A lot. It’s EG ship, and EG cannot live without banter. So of course that’s included in the ship [aggressively nods]

…Again, I am so sorry, this ended up so long, and it isn't even all of my HCs, those are just the ones I could remember off the top of my head like that. I, uh, am not okay about these birds. Please send help /lh /j

Anyways! Thank you for asking, I'm sure you got way, way more than you were expecting, I hope you enjoyed reading my silly HCs for my favorite silly ship! As long as it turned out, I do love yapping about my voices, my designs, and my silly HCs, so I genuinely always welcome these kinds of asks!!

#ask #slay the princess #stp fanart #stp opportunist #voice of the opportunist #stp skeptic #voice of the skeptic #voice shipping #skeptunist #stp headcanons #headcanon #art #fanart #eg chatting #i cannot be stopped once i start yapping #the yap is overflowing sdlkfjsdkl #also if something doesn't make sense or there are any mistakes - sorry about that - i tried my best to proofread it #but i probably missed some mistakes or wrote some things in a weird convoluted way #i'm not that good with words but i sure do like to yap /lh

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silver-stake-through-the-heart · 3 months ago

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Tell me more about Dean’s sensitivity of perception, I beg you.

Of course 💖

First point, I love the joke turned to headcanon that is psychic!Dean.

Second, I think about Cas' "Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage." every couple of days.

5x18 – Point of No Return

The situations are different, I know. The employee is hearing and seeing Michael's true form, and Dean is killing Zachariah while Zachariah is wearing his vessel. But it's sure a choice to remind what seeing an angel cause to a human and have Dean's eyes reflecting

The only similar scene and lighting I can remember is in the Rapture, with Castiel leaving Claire to take back Jimmy as a vessel.

Dean and the angels

Dean's reaction to angels shining seem more linked about who is with him at the time than about what it can do to him. He will hide his eyes if Sam is here and/or if Cas is the one killing or banishing the angel.

But if he's the one doing banishing or killing the angel? He tends to watch them.

There's also his reaction being different when it's about Cas. If he does close his eyes, it's a decision not a reaction.

It's following enough of a pattern to raise questions (and have fun with theories).

8x17 – Goodbye Stranger

I'm singling out this one because the angel tablet does something to Cas, something violent enough to make an angel cover their eyes. And Dean? Dean watches Cas for a while before closing his eyes and lowering his head. He'd look peaceful if not for the injuries all over his face.

Fun fact: a human can't close their eyes after seeing an angel true form. Their eyes burn at the first glimpse (and it kills them more often than not).

A little aside: the Faery episode

For once, there's an explanation about Dean seeing things others don't see: people who are taken to their realms can see them even back on earth.

Dean acting as a witness of heavenly events is a constant.

It could be have been played by arcs. This arc is about Sam or Cas so we'll show Sam or Cas, but there's this decision of focusing on Dean (Dean seeing, studying something).

In 4x22, the Cage opens. This is Sam's plotline. Sam is the one who opened the Cage, he's the one "fated" to be Lucifer's vessel, and yet it's Dean is who watches the Cage open.

In 8x23, (my fav of the list... it'll have its own post later) the Fall. The scene features Dean, Sam and Cas, all looking up at the sky. There's this sequence of Dean watching the sky and the camera zeroing in on one angel falling, before showing Dean's reation (shock). Dean watches as this angel falls, lowering his head as the angel approaches the ground and crashes.

In 11x09, there's once again a close up on Dean's face cutting a show of angelic powers.

Sometimes I wonder if him "not seeing" the angels is a mental block. I mean... his first interactions with angel true form are Cas shattering glass at him and burning out Pamela's eyes.

Or he's just trusting Cas and Cas got the wrong conclusion.

#i don't know if it actually answers ><#i may have more thoughts about this later #but thank for the ask i had fun with it #(and it triggered a whole bunch of posts)#dean + angelic perception #dean + angelic association #asks

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cruyuu · 8 months ago

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The proof of sukuita's soul resonance and their oneness. Yuuji is shown without two fingers and cannot salvage them, considering how the person responsible for him losing those fingers (the missing piece) is dead and gone.

Fitting, no?

Let's talk about it.

Yuuji lost both his ring and pinky finger.

The pinky one (representing promises– pinky swear) was torn by Sukuna and used to overtake Megumi, symbolically representing Yuuji's failure to keep his promise- keep Megumi away from Sukuna and, in general, protect Megumi. In the beginning, Yuuji was shown as someone incapable of defending and keeping people alive despite the fact that he very much wished to. You could say Sukuna reminded him of that by taking over the very person that saved his life in the first place by postponing his execution.

The pinky remained in Megumi (because that's how Sukuna got to Megumi) until Yuuji tore it away- tore Sukuna away- and then spoke to him, leading to Blobkuna and Sukuna's passing. Of course, knowing Gege's love for everything sukuita, they fittingly made Sukuna the one to rip that finger away to be in someone else and conveniently not return it by instead choosing to die.

Mind you, the reason why this happened was because Yuuji didn't place a condition in the Binding Vow (the one he doesn't nor will ever even remember making) that he cannot be hurt when Sukuna has control which is, again, an insane thing because it implies he trusts him not to cause harm to himself or truly doesn't care what happens to him after he's "dead to the world" (kinda like Sukuna who doesn't care what happens to his body after his death).

So that's for the pinky. Yuuji also never got the ring finger back.

Now, Sukuna believed that his finger was eaten by Rika, but that wasn't the case. It was revealed to us that the finger Rika ate was Yuuji's, and according to Yuta, anything she eats cannot be salvaged by RCT. It cannot be healed and I'm crazy over the symbolism of Yuuji losing his ring finger because of the general, well-known meaning of the ring finger. He gave up that finger because of Sukuna (giving up his love in order for his downfall) and, conveniently, we're shown a single finger that remains of Sukuna. I also truly do wonder why the location of Sukuna's finger (for some reason) was fitting with the location of the music video for that one song.

Yuuji never got back the ring finger in form of a person who he had also asked (twice) to return. Who he could live with no matter what he had done. Who he would accept no matter what. Who he thinks back on fondly while looking at his lost fingers. He gave up that finger for him and that one finger (one person) remains in the Stevenson shed- right where he found him.

Through symbolism, the implications are insane because love and commitment (the ring finger) remains with Sukuna.

If you want more insanity, well... Remember what I said about the pinky? That it was how (basically) Yuuji lost Sukuna? Well, Sukuna didn't return to Yuuji (no matter if Yuuji wanted him to) and hence Yuuji couldn't truly get that finger back.

The fact is that Yuuji was supposed to be the only vessel (specifically made for him, so much so that he inherits his techniques and cursed energy like come on, you couldn't get more perfect than that, he even has his face!) for Sukuna and one made intently for the purpose of his true return and yet... Sukuna chose another one and reincarnated via that one. Lost because of that very choice.

So it's basically the fact that these two were practically perfectly made for each other (spelled out by the story), but unlike their mirrors (Yuta/Rika, Hana/Angel), they never acknowledged it nor chose to accept one another.

Yuuji only accepts Sukuna when it's over, during 268. Fittingly, Sukuna "accepts" Yuuji in the afterlife and to Mahito's face (which is hilarious because Yuuji hated Mahito's guts and Sukuna *of all curses* telling him off too was just chef's kiss).

If you think about it, if Sukuna ever reincarnates (and it's highly probable because of how the door to the shed is open, quite literally open for return), perhaps he'd stumble upon that finger in the Stevenson shed and that is so awfully romantic to me. Considering the placement of the finger being near Yuuji's high school, you could also say that's Yuuji leaving a clue for Sukuna to find him, should he ever reincarnate in this lifetime while he's still alive. If he doesn't, well, at least it could serve as a reminder (to jog his memory if he doesn't remember).

Yuuji got his permanent reminder of Sukuna- right there on his left hand. Hell, he can't even get married because of him (wedding rings are worn on the left hand in Japan and I'm cackling because oh the implications lmfao).

#melspeaks #jjk spoilers #sukuita #jjk 271

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watching-spn · 1 day ago

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oh this is so painful. sam saying he wouldn't have done the same thing (stopping his brother from sacrificing himself in the process of closing the gates of hell) and both being disappointed in another, just because they don't understand the other's concept of love and sacrifice.

dean thinks loving someone means protecting them. saving them. he thinks he's letting sam down if he can't stop him from doing sacrifices of his own. he'd rather take all the pain hell has to offer than let sam be hurt. because to him, the pain of knowing he's let sam down is unbearable. i don't think it's the fact that he can't be alone that made him stop sam from finishing the third trial. he's been alone many times. he didn't have anyone when he was being tortured in hell and he still endured it willingly, to save sam. it's just that nothing could compare to the pain of letting sam down. of having failed his little brother, who he was supposed to protect.

and sam can't understand dean's choices because to him, saving someone is secondary when it comes to love. not because he doesn't care if they live or because he wouldn't take their place if he could. he would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat (which is what led them to this argument in the first place), so i'm not letting anyone shit on sam for not having the same opinion on this as dean does. his view of love is just different, because to him loving someone means respecting their choices, trusting them. the way he sees it, dean didn't save him when he let gadreel take him as a vessel, he betrayed him. all his life he's heard people tell him what he should do or be. john, the angels, lucifer, everyone had a way laid out for him which he didn't want to go. being able to choose his own fate is what he has desired all his life, so letting someone make a decision and respecting it even though it hurts is what sam views as love.

so the question here isn't who loves whom more. they both do. just differently.

#this has probably been said a thousand times already but i needed to get that out #because there's so many misunderstandings between them and they're both just doing their best #i understand them both and i want them to understand each other's point of view :(#spn #watching supernatural #supernatural #spn watch updates #spn watch #dean winchester #sam winchester #the winchester brothers #sam and dean #spn thoughts #spn posting #spn 9x13 #spn season 9 #spn s9 #supernatural season 9 #spn meta

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aychama · 7 months ago

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G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER

The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.

G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!

L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!

G: Bullshit. They promised-

L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!

Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.

L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?

G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!

Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.

G: Gah-!

L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!

The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.

L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.

G: Fuck you.

Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally

G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?

L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.

G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.

L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.

G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.

L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.

G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?

Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.

G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?

L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!

The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.

G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!

Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.

G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!

Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.

G: What did I ever do to you!?

The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go

G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?

L: ...

They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.

L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.

G: ...

L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.

G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-

L: I did... I tried to help you out.

Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.

L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...

Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...

G: (You crybaby)

The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.

G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.

L: You...

G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.

They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.

G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me

L: Fuck you... Heh...

G: Same to you. So-!

The goat pulled the lamb to their feet

G: When are we killing this giant spider?

Awwww this is adorable!

Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf

And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch

I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!

Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️

#ask #others writings for royal au #making a new tag for these ❤️

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yona049 · 11 months ago

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𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚡 𝚐𝚗! 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1? (maybe)

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Warning :

> lil blood

>cosmophobia

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

His pace was strong and exact as he walked through the ships shining white hallway. Hair cut to a precise straight line with pointed ears, a shining example of his Valcan linage.

His uniform was nothing short of excellent, no wrinkle or crease would dare disturb it's perfection. The tablet in his hand had many names of crew members across the screen.

Behind him, hundreds of cadets, Ensign's and officers ran through the hallway. Some carrying baggage or equipment for the long journey that lay ahead.

The blue, red, and yellow uniforms looked like smudged lines to Spock. No one daring to crash into him or hinder his way, as his intense focus on the tablet demanded his presence to be known.

Behind him came a red uniform, short skirted Lieutenant Commander Uhura runs closer. Her pace quickened to a jog to catch up to him. She dodged one of the Cadets carrying heavy boxes until she finally caught up to Spock.

"Spock!" she called to him but his attention never faltered from the tablet screen.

One name of the many pops up and he selects it. The profile of Ensign Y/n L/n appeared.

"What is it, Uhura?"

"I just needed to enquire on the specific time of launch."

Spock scrolls down to the information on the profile.

"There's no question, we leave O' eight hundred hours, current planet time. We've given everyone sufficient time to prepare for a life long expedition of exploration."

Uhura growls and dodges another Cadet carrying some equipment and engineering tools.

"Yes I understand! But some Cadets have questioned the captains choice to bring inexperienced Ensign's on board for this mission."

Spock finally stops once they've reached the back of the hallway with a large door at the end. His hands are placed behind his back delicately and without hesitation he answers.

"Uhura, I can see the unease that this may have caused. However our Captain has never put us in harms way before and he certainly won't now. I trust Kirk's decisions whole heartedly."

Uhura sighs and nods slowly. Her arms fold into a somewhat comforting hug.

"I guess I should too. It's just a really big decision for everyone to make. There's a chance we may never come home."

She slowly glances through the large window beside them at the spinning blue and green planet below.

Spock looks at earth and then back at her.

"The U.S.S Enterprise is our home now. And like earth. We must protect it."

She laughs a little through her nose at Spock.

"Yeah, you're right."

With a small hand, she pats on his shoulder and then makes her way back down the hallway.

"Oh! And Good luck with the new Ensign!" she calls back to him before disappearing into the corridor.

Finally, the hallway seemed a little quieter. Spock looks back down at his tablet and scrolls through the profile. The first thing he noticed is no picture of the Ensign. Odd.

The second thing he notices is the lack of specified species. The Enterprise was a decorated vessel with many mixed species staff. A proud ship of the The United Federation of Planets.

The doors at the end of the hallway finally slide open.

"Ensign L/n! You're-"

He looks up at the new Ensign but stops when he sees a short bodied, light blue skinned species. Not a harsh blue, but a pale skin tone similar to the planet Andoria.

The blue uniform perfectly hugging their figure and snow-white hair covering their ears.

"...-Late."

He finishes looking at their profile then back at them.

"Sir, I'm sorry. They had some trouble confirming my authentication due to my incomplete file."

They look down shyly. Holding a suitcase and a box of glass tubes and bottles.

"Then let's make an effort to complete it."

Spock walks a circle around them them with a raised eyebrow as he studied their species.

"Tell me, Ensign, what's your species? Your skin and hair would suggest Andorian. However, I see no antennae."

Y/n slowly scratches the bottom of their ear and clears their throat.

"I am Andorian, sir. I lost my antennas in a chemical accident."

Again, Spock looks down at his tablet. His face showing no visible confusion, but he was, in fact, a little confused. Yet also mesmerized.

"It says here you're a Medical Ensign."

They quickly nod watching Spock.

"Yes! Chemistry is my main practice. I can't have the Medical Officer mixing the wrong, atorvastatin with fluticasone and causing someone to come down with some disease!"

They finish their explication but quickly step back after.

"Apologies! I didn't mean to sound so accusatory."

Spock nods before turning on his heel and starting his walk.

"Not at all, I am Vulcan. We try to keep our emotions-"

"-Controlled." Y/n says, catching up to him.

"Yes, I'm aware." they confess, looking down.

Spock squints for a second before looking back at the tablet for some information.

"Now, your room is on deck 37. This deck is reserved for medical and research personnel. Med Bay is also on deck 37."

He explains as they walk to the turbolift, taking them both up to Deck 37. The lift is filled with a few seconds of awkward silence. Spock takes this time to study his blue skinned Ensign.

Their existence is shrouded in mystery. The story of their antennas being chemically detached is questionable, Andorian's antenna grow back after time. Their short stature compared to many of the tall built andorians. An incomplete file made Spock's curiosity spark.

Finally arriving at their room. Spock hands them a key card. He turns his back to them without a goodbye.

"Spock!" Y/n calls.

Spock turns back to them. A darkened blue color covered their cheeks like blush would a human's face.

"Yes, Ensign?"

Y/n takes a breath of confidence and looks at Spock.

"Thank you for accompanying me. You have other duties to see to. But I appreciate your time."

Spock only bows his head.

"It's my duty, Ensign. Now hurry to your medical checkups. We launch in 5 hours."

Y/n gives a happy nod, then entering their room with a little excited skip.

Spock couldn't tell why, but his heart gave a pleased thump when he saw the excitement from Y/n. A young new Ensign is unaware of the vastness of space that lays ahead.

The crew started settling into their bunks and rooms with quick paced ease. A fast five hour jump to the launch and Spock was confident in his preparation.

He was sat at his launch pad watching all systems make necessary calculations. As Head Commanding Science Officer and First Officer. He had to be sure the Enterprise was ready for Captain Kirk's arrival.

A sudden hand placed on Spock's shoulder pulls him from his thought process. Jim Kirk stood behind him. His close friend and captain. Even though he was human, Kirk knew what to say to let Spock know everything was ok.

"Well, Spock! How's she lookin?"

Kirk questions.

Spock straightens himself out and with a proud, non emotional face, then says.

"She is, in human terms, Spick and span!"

Kirk smiles giving Spock a good smack on the shoulder.

"Good! Because I'm about ready to head on a life long adventure. To explore strange new worlds!"

Kirk monologs while he strides over to the Captains chair. His palm slides over the arm rest and guides him to his seat.

"Yes, Captain. We're about ready for launch!"

Kirk smirks and turns to a button on his seat. Once he presses it the button starts broadcasting his voice though the entire ship.

"This is your Captain speaking."

Y/n was in a room with a scanner in their hand when they quickly look up at the speaker.

"We are preparing for Launch now. So to start off our journey. Here's a little quote from the very first Starship Captain. Captain Johnathan Archer."

Y/n smiled hearing the name of a big Historical hero. looking back at the Cadet they were doing a Medical check on. Y/n delicately pushes the Cadets head to the side and presses the scanner against their neck.

"He started the voyage by saying and I quote: 'We're going to stumble, make mistakes - I'm sure more than a few, before we find our footing. But we're going to learn From those mistakes. That's what being explorers is all about.'"

Captain Kirk smiles to himself hearing a few Crew members cheer down the hallway.

"This Voyage will be long. But it's purpose is to bring species together united. To Explore and to forge alliances. With that being said! Everyone hold tight!"

Cadets suddenly run off and hold steady to a rail or to anything nailed down. A brand new ship, Y/n stumbles past everyone while packing up the equipment. They look down at the list of Cadets to check but sees one name still open.

Spock had yet to be checked. With seconds before lift off, Y/n decides that the Bridge Control room isn't too far, and they might be able to make it there on time for launch.

With a little stumble, they make their way past the cadets and run for the lift to the Bridge.

Captain Kirk on the bridge looked at his pilot and smirked.

"Hit it!"

The ship yanks a little at the sudden force blasting them into hyperspace at warpspeed.

Y/n still in the turbo lift gets yanked forward suddenly and their hand slips from the rail with a heavy thud.

Spock holds carefully and waits till they get to an even pace. He watches everyone applaud as the ship steadied and they comfortably sat at hyperspeed.

The Captain pats the pilots on the back and Uhura gives Spock a smiling nod.

The lively energy circled though the bridge, even when Y/n fell through the door holding their head people surrounded them with cheers.

They smiled, clapping along and laughing a little before silence once again fell and everyone returned to their posts.

Uhura walks up to Y/n and shakes their hand. Brief conversation that Spock couldn't hear but he could tell Y/n was anxious.

Their hands clutching onto the medical case and their shoulders tightened into a straight, tense, posture.

"Y/n!" he called.

Y/n runs over to him with a thankful smile.

"Ensign, may I enquire as to your purpose on the bridge?"

Y/n sets their equipment down and stands straight at ease.

"Sir, I was on my way to take your vitals and complete medical check up's. But I was interrupted by launch! And I took the lift-"

During Y/n's anxious ramble, Spock studied her movements and noticed a light trickle of dark blue blood coming from beneath the white hair.

"Ensign."

"Yes sir! I know it was foolish! But I wanted to finish soon to get to other duties-"

"Y/n!" Spock's sudden voice brings Y/n's attention back to look up at him.

The chatter of crewmen in the background started fading out as Y/n's heartbeat took its place.

Spock delicately moves his fingertips to the side of their head and wipes the blood away bringing Y/n's attention to it.

"I.. Fell in the lift." they confess with their hand looking for the point of injury.

Spock looks down at the medical box and lifts it back off the ground.

"Ensign. I will report to Med bay for my medical check up in two hours. For the moment, see to your own medical care. Please."

A soft plea from Spock brought Y/n's heart back to a calm beating. They inhale and exhale slowly, focusing back on the problem at hand.

"Yes sir! I will be ready once you arrive!" Y/n says with a determined smile.

They take the bag with new found bravery but once again shyly smile at Spock before walking to the lift.

Uhura watches Y/n walk off and the doors slide shut as Uhura arrives at Spock's side.

"You saw it too?" Uhura questions still watching the lift doors.

"Yes. No Antenna scaring or any signs of growth. Andorian's antenna usually grow back in a matter of weeks."

Spock turns to Uhura and they start their deduction.

Spock continues :

"I considered the fact that it was a Chemical accident into my theory. However even a chemical wound wouldn't stop antennae from growth."

Uhura taps her finger on her folded arms while nodding in agreement.

"Y/n's accent has no clear signs of being raised in an andorian environment. No matter how faint the accent is. As the Communications officer I can hear it."

Spock takes a tablet off his desk and opens Y/n's profile once more.

"Y/n is not Andorian."

°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○

I had fun writing but I'm not sure If it'll become an ongoing series. 👀🖖If you enjoyed this and want a part two please let me know in the comments!

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pardonmystardust · 27 days ago

Text

I'm still digesting the album and will be for awhile, and I don't know that I've coaxed any finer details out of any individual songs but one overarching theme I think that's jumping out at me is just.... This tension and conflict between the rewards and the terror of vulnerability.

Both the vulnerability that comes with the stage and the spotlight as talked most obviously about in Caramel and Damocles but also a rawer, more interpersonal, more intimate interpersonal vulnerability like maybe in Past Self or Dangerous or Gethsemane.

I think a lot of these songs come from a place of loneliness and fear and courage and a terrifying intentional choice to open the gates a bit.

I think Vessel is writing as someone who's been hurt by his vulnerability being mishandled by people he trusted in the past, who's retreated into the instinct to hide and isolate, and for whom that self imposed isolation and loneliness has been a slower but more devastating pain, and as someone who's making a very difficult decision to be vulnerable again, and being honest about how hard that is.

If you don't think I mean it, then I understand; but I'm still glad you came so let me see those hands

Maybe I'm just projecting a bit. That's what the masks are for, yeah?

#unpolished thoughts #should i maintag these?#Sleep Token #Even In Arcadia

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electrikworm · 3 months ago

Text

Like New

Relationships: Crosshair & Wrecker, Crosshair & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Injury Recovery, talk of seizures and decommissioning

Summary:

After the explosion that took Wrecker's eye and hearing on his left side, he has to paint his new helmet, Crosshair helps him, worrying about how safe deploying Wrecker now really is. But, there's nothing he can do against the decisions that are made for them by the Kaminoans.

Written for the @wrecker-week Bingo prompt "Armor painting"

Word count: 2,024

Read on Ao3

New helmet under his arm, Crosshair walks to the Marauder. His footsteps echo across the hangar, feeling eerily quiet at the moment. Tech takes care to land the Marauder in the less active hangars when possible, but as much as Crosshair values the peace and quiet, away from too many regs, it's still putting him on edge. The Marauder's ramp is still down, just like Crosshair left it. Walking up it, he finds the inside exactly the same as twenty minutes ago too. Wrecker hasn't moved a bit, still sitting on the lowest rack, back leaned against the wall, Lula clutched to his chest.

His damaged eye, his blind eye, Crosshair reminds himself, is pressed closed, the other half lidded. The injured half of his face still looks raw, irritated, seemingly only held together by strips of medical tape and sutures. "I'm back," Crosshair announces. The door's in Wrecker's blind spot like this and he doesn't want to spook his brother. Wrecker nods, pushing himself upright. "Everything good?" Crosshair asks, not really sure what to say. He's not suited for this. Kark, he's probably the worst choice out of the squad to handle a situation like this. It's a cruel stroke of fate that the man most suited to handle this is the one that's in need of emotional support. "I feel great," Wrecker lies, rolling his shoulders and grinning at Crosshair. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Can't wait to get back out there and fight!" Even that lack's Wrecker's usual enthusiasm. Wrecker isn't ready to fight again, the Kaminoan's never should have cleared him. But of course they did. Hunter and Tech are at the briefing for their next mission, a mission that takes place in one night cycle's time. They put Wrecker through the wringer to test his capability to keep fighting. Crosshair doesn't want to know what would have happened to him if he had failed. But, unsteady as he still was, they'd deemed him fit for combat. Without dealing with his blind eye or deaf ear of course. Fixing those would be expensive and put Wrecker out of commission for longer. Crosshair just hums in response to Wrecker's clearly false answer. Wrecker's been a lot more quiet since the explosion, it's unnerving. Not for lack of trying of course, Wrecker's been near constantly trying to act like he always does. But Crosshair's not fooled, nor are the rest of the squad. Wrecker's tired and in pain, even if he tries to hide it. And then there's the seizures. They showed up suddenly after the explosion and just keep coming back. There's no saying if they'll ever stop. As much as the doctors had argued that it's just a natural part of the injury Wrecker sustained, Crosshair can't help but not trust them.

What if the next time Wrecker drops, he doesn't get up any more? They rushed everything with the recovery, what if they missed something vital? The confusion's getting better at least, but that's a small mercy. Crosshair places the helmet, Wrecker's new helmet, down on the rack beside him. The explosion shattered the old one, leaving a big hole in the left side. It wasn't salvageable. "You'll probably need this," Crosshair says. Wrecker turns his head to see what Crosshair's indicating. His eyes seem to light up at the sight. At least his good one does. The other has become dull, blood vessels that burst inside it being the only colour left in it. Wrecker places Lula down on his other side before scooping up the new piece of armor. He's still getting use to his lack of depth perception, almost knocking the helmet off the rack before correcting his movement. "I got it!" Wrecker announces quickly. Crosshair hadn't even noticed that he's held his hand out to stop the helmet from falling, so used to helping his vod out by catching things he knocks over. "It's exactly the same as the old one," Wrecker beams, turning it around in his hands. Wrecker had been somewhat upset at the loss of his helmet, Crosshair's certain he wouldn't have been as happy with something completely different to his old one. "I thought you might like to paint it, so you're not going out there looking like a shiny," Crosshair says. There's also the fact that Crosshair doesn't want his brother to die in unpainted armor, even if it's a thought he doesn't like. Their squad may stand out, but at the end of the day, they're still just numbers to the higher ups.

They'd seen as much time and time again growing up, just had it proven again when Wrecker was almost decommissioned for being caught in an explosion. If Wrecker has to die, Crosshair would at least like for him to have the dignity to do so in armor that's personalized. Of course, Crosshair isn't going to let it come to that. He's going to be watching Wrecker's back constantly over the next mission. If there's any threat of him seizing or the injury getting to him, Crosshair will get involved. It's very likely they'll have to give Wrecker stims to get him through the next few missions. But as long as they do get him through the missions, that's all that counts. "Thanks Cross," Wrecker says. A look ghosts over his face, telling Crosshair that he'd shared the same thought he had. Once again Crosshair is struck with the fact that he doesn't know how to handle this. "I'll grab the paint," Crosshair mutters, already walking off. It takes some rummaging to find the cans of paint. They all use red, but Tech uses the most white. Crosshair's still baffled that Tech's stuck to the stupid idea to paint the entirety of his armor white. He's stopped arguing about it, since Tech clearly won't change his mind. Grabbing the few paintbrushes they own too, Crosshair makes his way back to Wrecker, sitting down next to him. Opening the can of white, having to fight the dried paint trying to keep the lid stuck, Crosshair places the paint between himself and Wrecker. "There," Crosshair says. "All yours."

Crosshair sits at Wrecker's side, cleaning his Firepuncher. Or at least pretending to. He spends much more time listening to Wrecker, watching him paint. Crosshair never thought he'd miss Wrecker's voice so much as when he was out cold after the explosion. He didn't talk much shortly after waking either. At least that has fixed its self.

Wrecker's never been very good at focusing, always being easily distracted by the smallest thing. Now, concentrating seems even harder than otherwise. He keeps interrupting painting to talk, mind wandering all over the place. Usually, Crosshair would at least pretend to get annoyed with his vod. He can't even bring himself to do that right now.

Once the white paint is applied, Wrecker sets it aside to dry a little. The edges aren't as neat as with his old helmet, but that can always be fixed later, when Wrecker's feeling better. Wrecker pauses, just looking at Crosshair.

“Need something?” Crosshair huffs, putting his rifle down.

“Have we got any new med patches?” Wrecker asks, looking away from Crosshair. The demolitions expert is always difficult about medical aid, but he's been having an even harder time articulating what he needs about this injury.

“I'll check,” Crosshair says, knowing full well Tech came back with a lot more medical supplies than they're allowed. The sniper hasn't got the slightest clue where Tech stole them from, but doesn't really care either. It's not their problem any more.

Crosshair fishes two from their medkit, getting the bandage scissor whilst he's at it. Med patches combat pain locally, so it's good to split them up and spread the effect over Wrecker's injured side as well as possible.

Most of Wrecker's injuries still have bandages and tape covering them, stitches still very visible. The med patches are stuck between those areas, making their removal less difficult. They need to be changed a lot more frequently than the bandages.

First, Crosshair peels the old patches off Wrecker's face, one just below his cheek bone, the other to the top of his skull. There's a third on the back of Wrecker's neck. The rest are less easy to get to, requiring Wrecker to slip the sleeve off his shoulder. Despite the action clearly paining Wrecker, he refuses Crosshair's help in freeing his shoulder.

Wrecker's shoulder is a mess, even after multiple skin grafts and an absurd amount of bacta injections. It's clear how much Wrecker favours that side, even when under a lot of pain killers. Crosshair isn't sure he'll ever get the same range of motion he had before the explosion out of the limb.

New med patches applied, Crosshair helps Wrecker with his sleeve before sitting back next to him. It's eerily silent, not something the inside of the Marauder is often.

“I missed you,” Crosshair says, words falling from his lips without being planed.

“You weren't gone that long, half an hour at most,” Wrecker replies, nudging Crosshair's side.

“Not when I was getting your helmet,” Crosshair glares. “When you were passed out in med bay after blowing up.”

Wrecker doesn't say anything in response, picking at the sleeve of his blacks.

“You should finish your helmet,” Crosshair says, abruptly changing topics.

“Right, can't go out there without everyone knowing what squad I belong to,” Wrecker laughs, opening the red paint and taking a second, thinner paintbrush.

Crosshair pretends to clean his rifle for a little longer, but soon can't take his eyes off of Wrecker struggling to paint the 99 on the front of his helmet. It keeps looking like he's about to do it, but he hesitates every time. Wrecker's usually steady hands are shaking.

“What me to do it?” Crosshair offers. Wrecker nods.

Taking the helmet and paintbrush from his vod, Crosshair quickly completes the 99 neatly. The paint runs a little, but that only makes it more accurate to the original. Crosshair holds it out to Wrecker once he's done.

“Thanks Cross'ika,” Wrecker beams, turning the helmet as he looks at it. Crosshair doesn't have the heart to complain about the nickname.

“No need for that,” the sniper mutters. Crosshair feels like he should say something more, but the words evade him. This really isn't his thing.

Thankfully, he isn't left to struggle for long, their ori'vode interrupting the conversation by entering the Marauder.

“Look,” Wrecker announces, holding up his helmet. “Cross did the 99 for me. It'll be almost like I never blew up in the first place.”

Crosshair frowns. Wrecker keeps wanting to do that, pretend like nothings happened. But it's not that easy. He's half blind and deaf now, and his balance isn't the same. Crosshair's still not entirely sure the seizures will ever go away. Sooner or later, Wrecker's going to have to stop pretending he's fine.

“It does look nearly identical,” Tech says, adjusting his goggles as he leans down to look at the helmet.

“I'm glad to be back,” Wrecker says, swinging his arm around Crosshair's shoulder, squishing him slightly. Crosshair doesn't miss the wince Wrecker tries to hide beneath his laugh.

“Well, it would be a much wiser move to let you recover longer,” Tech says, displeasure on his face. Wrecker shakes his head.

“Nah, that place was driving me crazy. I'm happy to be out,” Wrecker laughs. Getting up on shaky legs, he hugs Tech too, reaching blindly to pull Hunter into his embrace as well.

Watching the way Wrecker moves, Crosshair knows there's no good way this mission can end. But, it's the hand they've been dealt by the Kaminoans, and it's not like Hunter will just let the whole squad run off. How would they even survive without the supplies the GAR assigns them?

Hesitantly, Crosshair stands too. He leans onto Wrecker, loosely laying an arm around his back. If Wrecker doesn't make it, Crosshair's going to kill everyone involved in deciding to deploy him this early. That's the best promise Crosshair can make him right now, even if it's not a particularly good one.

#tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb hunter #wrecker weeks #wrecker wednesday #wrecker whump #wrecker tbb #the bad batch wrecker #my writing #crosshair tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfiction

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saythatuwill · 3 days ago

Note

Helllllo! I'm here again! Asking about The Android Playlists!

I wanna know about Abstract (Psychopomp) on the Vessel!android list

(I'm tottaaally not looking for a song for that fic, no that's nots what's happening)

and

Telomeres on the Noah!android list!

<3 @lyricallymelodic

OUGHHHH MY BELOVED FRIEND... i'm always happy to share! if this is a song you're considering for the fic, what a GOOD CHOICE. shall we?

if the format isn't the same as the last analysis please forgive me i'm experimenting. and writing this on my phone because walks help me think.

i have a mouthful to say abt "abstract (psychopomp)" so we'll under the cut it.

update (a WHOLE HOUR LATER): i might actually have to do a SEPARATE POST for android!noah because of how long this explanation is. i locked the fuck in for you my friend.

obligatory delta tag!!! @astronoids

ANDROID!VESSEL — ABSTRACT (PSYCHOPOMP) // HOZIER

this song was one of my more creative choices i'd say. i was hoping someone would ask about it!

Sometimes it returns like rain that you slept through

That washed off the world, the streets looking brand new

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

The feeling came late, I'm still glad I met you

so, what is "it"? in the context of android!vessel, it's a particular memory. how that memory can come back, even if current events or Other Memories cast a shadow over it.

in this case? the memory is of sleep, specifically the day you and the force came to rescue him and the other androids. the regrets he has about his time in the cult and way he literally nearly attacked you that day. and how it took him a long time to realize that he could trust you and meant you no harm. that his time with sleep was not positive. but despite the trauma, ultimately it was what led you to him. despite everything, he's still glad he met you.

The memory hurts, but does me no harm

Your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

The poor thing in the road, its eye still glistening

The cold wet of your nose, the earth from a distance

it's a painful trauma that haunts him, but ultimately those experiences will never happen again. and you're there, with him.

now, here comes vessel's internal conflict. we have to remember how heavily vessel was manipulated during his time with sleep. he KNOWS the memories are not fond or good, but in his mind, it still distorts itself.

so in the second half, the "you" is not you. it's sleep. sleep is the poor thing in the road, he is recounting that very same day he met you. except he's seeing sleep as some "poor creature" that maybe he damaged.

(wait, sherry! isn't that kind of hypocritical of vessel?) sure! but let's not forget what vessel is; a victim. i actually pull his mentality from personal experience. i want to take a second to properly unpack that.

vessel has no recollection of his life as an android before sleep. and sleep essentially gaslit and manipulated him into thinking he was a freaky android deity. any time vessel strayed from that path, sleep would remind him; "hey! behave yourself! no one else is going to love you or want you except for me. and me? i'm so good to you!"

that's conditioning vessel to believe that what sleep did to him was love. so in a sad way, he kind of just began to feel grateful and happy for it. it took him time to realize that was never love, and now he has you (who is a very healthy partner).

but sometimes, in intense or particularly lonely situations, at least in my experience? i find myself trying to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. i'm just dramatic, i should've been more grateful. minor good memories feel like proof that the abuse wasn't that bad. and unfortunately, that can cause doubt, or maybe make you question if YOU were the real problem.

vessel misses sleep, but not sleep themselves. the idea of sleep. does that make sense? whatever he was manipulated into thinking sleep was, he misses that sleep. but in the same breath it's not like he wants to go back.

tl;dr : he kinda gets in his own head. convinces himself at times that maybe sleep was the victim and not him.

Sometimes there's a thought, like you choose what you're doing

But it comes to naught when I look back through it

I remember the view, street lights in the dark blue

The moment I knew I'd no choice but to love you

first two lines; that's actually about you during that same memory. initially he believed that you chose to take time of your day to save him and the others, that you were just sorta doing your job. when he looks through it knowing you now, he knows that really, you're selfless and considerate. even if being that way could've killed you.

second two: i think this could be about sleep or you. if it's sleep, it's literally about how vessel eventually realized he was trapped and LITERALLY HAD NO CHOICE but to love sleep. if it's you, it's a flash forward to the day he realizes he's in love with you. he tried to avoid those feelings for so long, but they won't go away. his mind and his "heart" have already decided.

The speed that you moved, the screech of the cars

The creature still moving, that slowed in your arms

The fear in its eyes gone out in an instant

Your tear caught the light, the earth from a distance

okay so this is also vaguely a double meaning.

meaning one: vessel recounts witnessing you on that day, trying to save... well, here's your first lore piece about you in this au!

sleep had ended up grabbing your partner at the time (both romantic and your partner at work), it was an effort to get you to back off. and in fear for their life, you were ready to back off. you had backup swarming the manor anyway, that sleep didn't even know about. you agreed to back off, and asked them to return your partner to you.

sleep fatally wounds your partner and drops them on the ground before taking off. your partner dies in your arms. fueled by heartbreak and rage, you immediately sent backup in and put everything into rescuing as many androids as you could.

you were selfless and compassionate. but also reckless, fueled by your grief and the shock you were experiencing. vessel saw all of this. from the top of the staircase, he watched it. that was the first seed of doubt about sleep, but he wouldn't process it for a long time.

meaning two: vessel is referring to himself as "the creature". mainly, him when infected by the virus and him just generally not being trusting, as well as afraid of you.

your willingness to protect him from M.I.N.D literally killing him and scrapping him for parts. and the part about him still moving, slow in your arms?

it's a more recent recollection of you literally holding him. he doesn't pull away, he doesn't stiffen the way he usually does. the fear in his eyes going out in an instant is him finally not being afraid of you anymore.

the tear in your eyes isn't one of grief or sadness, that's a tear of joy.

Darling, there's a part of me I'm afraid will always be

Trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life

The weeds up through the concrete, the traffic picking up speed

All my love and terror balanced there between those eyes

he's talking to you. he's admitting the war he wages in his mind between his love and trust in you, and the memories that make him question if sleep was the real victim and missing the idea of sleep.

he's admitting to you that he's afraid that those memories, those feelings, that trauma, will never go away.

"those eyes" are his eyes. his love for you and his fear of the past, even the future at times (of somehow going through the same pain again), it'll always be there.

See how it shines

he wants you to look into his eyes, see it. see him. for who and what he is, for who he was then and who he is now. he wants you to see his hurt, his anger, his sadness and fear, and love him anyway.

( of course you do. )

#♡ sherry shares #♡ requests/thoughts #♡ lyricallymelodic #♡ playlists #♡ au: androids #song explanation #android!vessel thoughts #android!vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token au #vessel x reader #sleep token

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