#i feel even more displaced than when i first got back

[135-film]

my moms trying to kick me out again...

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

_______________________

Despite not being comatose anymore, Danny’s health still wasn’t the greatest. After getting introductions for who everyone was they had started to explain to him what had happened. Only for him to fall asleep again before they got very far. After being assured by Bruce and Leslie that it was normal for those who had been in a coma to not be able to stay awake very long in the beginning, the others had found ways to entertain themselves while letting him rest more. When he woke up again hours later they let him orient himself again before trying to pick up where they’d left off. They had to repeat the same sequence again two more times before they got through the entire two months worth of events.

The hardest part of catching Danny up on everything had been admitting they didn’t know what had happened to Maddie and Jack. During the third time of being awake Danny had asked where they were, being confused why they hadn’t shown up to see him yet despite everything. And when Jazz had finally admitted it was because they weren’t there, and they didn’t even know if they were okay, Danny had panicked slightly. If he’d been in better health Jazz knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from running out into the city to try and find them himself. Yet at this point he couldn’t even push himself upright without help, and changing forms or even floating seemed impossible. Which had left him collapsed in Jazz’s lap, sobbing, “You don’t get it, Jazz! None of this matters at ALL if the people I care about aren’t alive! That includes mom and dad! None of this matters if they’re not okay too!”

Jazz knew that Danny really only fought to keep certain people happy. He’d protect everyone, sure. But the reason he kept going, the only real motivation he had for throwing himself in harm's way all the time, was to protect his friends and family. He did a lot of crazy heroic things, but he didn’t want to be some big time famous hero like she had learned Batman and Superman were. It was hard to not be able to tell him that he hadn’t failed. Only Sam, Tucker, and Danielle had been able to get him to calm down by reminding him how resilient Jack and Maddie were. Despite all the fights they got in, it was very rare that those two got hurt. So odds were they were still just fine after this disaster too. It had been enough to calm him down at least enough to stop crying, and allow himself to rest more. But his words still rang in Jazz’s head the next day.

Throughout the days Leslie was present more, checking Danny’s vitals, drawing a little more blood for another panel, bringing him room temperature water to sip in the afternoon. She strangely didn’t try to get Danny to eat anything until the next day. When Jazz asked about it Leslie had explained that while Danny definitely needed to eat again, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet. While the cryo stasis had helped him not deteriorate as much as anyone else would have over a two month coma, he still had. He was underweight, malnourished, and easily fatigued. And that included his digestive system. She tried to help by giving Danny another vitamin IV with a slightly different formula. But even with that the first time she’d let him try eating two plain crackers he’d ended up throwing up less than an hour later.

That was when Bruce happened to come check on them. With the biggest hurdles for now having been taken care of, most of his kids had gone back to their own homes, as they usually did. It was hard to keep them around for more than a few days, and while there was still the task of getting these displaced kids back home they all knew that could wait until Danny was feeling better. Especially after learning through bits and pieces of information that there was a government team back there that would just love to hunt him down the first chance they got. So with Duke and Damian currently at school that left the house rather empty, and Bruce found himself taking charge of checking on their visitors. He had learned a lot about them in the past two days. The kids were obviously used to helping patch Danny back up, without the help of any adults. But they still relied on Danny being okay to feel secure. Danny was the one that protected them. Danny was the one they relied on being okay to judge whether or not everything else was okay. When Danny was cracking jokes the others were at ease. But when Danny couldn’t force himself to reassure them, there was a harsh spike in their anxiety. And usually Jazz was the one that took charge, trying to keep them all calm and reassured.

It was an unfair, but understandable situation that didn’t allow for Danny to truly rest. And that was what motivated Bruce to enter the room and approach the kids this time, stopping by the connected bathroom to grab a soft towel first. Jazz was once again the only one sitting on the bed while the other three hovered nearby, waiting to be directed. Her hands were on Danny’s back and arm as he was curled over the bucket Leslie had made sure was left just in case, coughing and half heaving despite there being nothing left in his stomach. Bruce couldn’t imagine how much stress it must be to have an audience, so decided the first thing he’d do would be to get the others to disperse. When he raised his hand to Tucker’s shoulder he couldn’t blame Tucker for jumping in startle.

“D’dude! You scared me,” Tucker protested shakily.

“He’ll be alright,” Bruce chose to assure instead of apologizing for inevitably sneaking up on the kids. “Can you three go work with Alfred to find a change of clothes and bedding?”

The three almost jumped on being given something to do, a series of affirmatives before they scurried from the room. Bruce sent Alfred a text to request he keep the three of them occupied for a while then knelt down next to the bed and offered the towel to Danny. It seemed his stomach had decided to stop throwing a fit for now, and as Danny took the towel and buried his face in it Bruce relocated the bucket to the nightstand. He didn’t need to wipe his entire face, but from that angle Bruce hadn’t missed the tears, and realized Danny was hiding.

“Jazz, can you join the others?” Bruce requested on Danny’s behalf. “And find Leslie to help waterproof his injuries so he can have a bath?” Not only would that give Danny some time away from the others, but he actually really needed one too. A fact Bruce realized when he’d reached up to help pull Danny’s hair out of his face. He’d probably feel a little better after getting fully cleaned up for once too.

Jazz seemed reluctant to leave, but at least seemed to know when her presence was a detriment more than comfort. She knew her brother well, and after leaning down to give Danny a peck on the head and whisper a quick ‘I love you’ she headed out the door.

“...Am I even allowed to have a bath?” Danny’s question came after he was sure Jazz was gone, raising his head and looking and sounding as miserable and pathetic as he probably felt.

“Of course you are,” Bruce assured, using his thumb to brush away another tear that escaped when Danny blinked. “We’ll just have to waterproof your injuries and IV site. But then you should be fine to take one for as long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

The idea of getting some time to himself was welcomed, but after realizing what he was thinking Danny’s expression crumpled again, and Bruce had to raise a little to catch him as we swayed. He was a little surprised when Danny actually curled into him then, his form shaking.

“Sorry,” Danny whimpered, and Bruce couldn’t keep himself from gathering the boy up in a tight hug. “...I’m not okay.”

That sounded like it had been incredibly hard to say, and Bruce had to wonder if it was something someone had been working on with him. He’d heard from Jason that it was relatively recent that Danny’s parents even knew what he was, let alone what he’d been going through. Perhaps one of them had been the one to talk him into letting them know when he wasn’t doing well.

“...I know,” Bruce responded quietly as he moved to sit on the bed and pull Danny into a ball. Everyone knew Danny wasn’t doing well physically. But Bruce knew he wasn’t just talking about that part of his health this time. “You’re going to be okay though.”

It felt good to be held by someone he didn’t have to protect. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing for. Act like he was just fine and nothing fazed him. It had been something he had just started getting after his parents got involved with all aspects of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he would miss it until they weren’t there to give him that comfort. Jazz had a habit of calling out the fact that he was just a kid, but she was too, and couldn’t quite give him what he needed. But Bruce was an adult. And someone who seemed to have also lived through similar injuries. Hearing him say he’d be alright felt like a stated fact instead of just a confident reassurance.

It didn’t take long for Leslie to arrive and expertly shoo Jazz away again to help Alfred with the others. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Danny had thrown up, and instead just assured him he was going to be okay, and to think of it like having the stomach flu. The comparison did wonders in helping Danny calm down more, to the point he was only sniffling quietly as she took care of dressing his wounds in a waterproof covering.

“Don’t scrub too hard on the edges of the bandages when you’re washing up, okay?” Leslie directed while rubbing the said edges of the last bandage she was placing around his arm to encase the temporarily detached IV. She’d taken some time to clean the sites that would be covered so Danny would be able to feel completely clean after his bath, and was pleased to see he was healing a lot faster now that he wasn’t in some sort of stasis mode. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wounds were completely healed by the end of next week at this rate.

Danny gave a small hum in acknowledgement, understanding that he couldn’t break the seal if the bandages were going to work properly. The desire for an actual bath was strong enough that he was willing to comply with their conditions, even if it meant he had to have Bruce in the bathroom with him, just in case. It made sense considering he couldn’t go to the toilet on his own just yet, but at least Bruce had promised to stay facing towards the door as long as he could. He also had his phone with him to work on his own projects, so wouldn’t even try to get Danny to talk to him.

It was exhausting, but Danny also didn’t realize just how much it would feel good to be clean. To not have his scalp itch, and skin feel like a layer of grime was coating it. And also just to lounge in the warm water, in the silence and almost complete isolation. He was there for a little over an hour - dang fancy rich people's tubs and their ability to keep the water just right - before it became uncomfortably apparent he wasn’t just imagining the aching starting to get worse. Which led him to reluctantly using his foot to nudge the plug out to allow the water to drain and reaching out to knock his hand against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Done already?” Bruce asked easily, glancing over his shoulder halfway.

“Morphine is wearing off,” Danny admitted with a grimace, resting against the side of the tub.

“Ah,” Bruce nodded in unfortunate complete understanding, turning his phone screen off and tucking it into his pocket while grabbing the towel and soft robe to hand to Danny. “Let me know if you need help.”

Danny hummed once again to acknowledge what was said, but stubbornly took care of at least getting the bathrobe on himself on his own once the water had drained. Unfortunately he had to ask for help to get out of the tub, still too weak to lift himself up or stand. But Bruce didn’t react differently towards this than if Danny had simply asked for help opening a jar or something. It was nice.

Alfred had already brought a pair of soft pajama pants and fluffy socks when he’d returned to change the bedding as well. And once Danny was dressed Bruce had carried him back to the edge of the bed where Leslie could double check that the bandages had worked, get the IV reattached and another dose of morphine going. He found he was so worn out from the simple task, but also found that once the morphine did its job taking away the aches and pain he did feel a lot better than before. Enough that Duke pausing in the doorway while returning home from school didn’t make him feel too wary.

“Oh- First post injury bath?” Duke asked, pointing a finger at Danny as he noticed the bathrobe on the bed and Danny’s still damp hair. When Bruce nodded, Duke grinned. “Nice! Those always feel amazing somehow. You should take him to the couch next.”

“The couch?” Danny couldn’t help asking. Was it just the family room couch or something different?

“In the study. It’s quiet in there, and being stuck in bed sucks,” Duke explained. “I bet he was actually already planning on taking you there. After living here I came to find out Bruce is actually really good at helping people feel better. Even though he’s not perfect, no one is, he still makes a nice dad-”

“Duke,” Bruce interrupted, a slight scowl hiding his embarrassment. “Make sure you have enough time to finish your homework before patrol.”

Other people may have been put off by the glower, but Duke just laughed. “Sure sure. I’ll meet you in the study?”

It took Danny a moment to realize Duke was talking to him, and couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping. He didn’t really want to entertain people yet, he was already feeling physically drained on top of emotionally.

Surprisingly Duke picked up on the mood easily. “I’ll keep quiet. Promise. But trust me when I say it’s really nice,” he offered, easily picking up Danny’s anti-social vibes.

“...Sure. We can try,” Danny accepted, figuring he could at least attempt the idea since Duke didn’t seem to want to spend the time talking.

It was just a few more minutes for Leslie to finish giving him another routine checkup and add an anti nausea patch behind his ear before allowing Bruce to pick him up again. Danny inevitably felt tiny as Bruce was able to carry him with just one arm, leaving the other free to bring the IV pole with them. But he found he didn’t mind. It had only been two days of him being awake in that bedroom, but Danny found getting to leave the room was nice. The study was quite a ways down the hall, and when they reached it Alfred was already there.

“I’ve provided the usual snacks for Master Duke and Master Damian. There’s also a thermos of warm broth that Dr. Thompkins has approved for Master Danny to try if he’s up for it. I will continue to keep the rest of the children occupied until supper,” Alfred informed, bringing their attention to the mentioned food on the low table in front of the very plush couch.

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce responded simply, heading further in the room to get settled.

There was a fire crackling gently in the fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm despite the autumn chill outside. There was already a slight frost on the windows, but the glass was the only thing that reflected that cold. All the colors of the room were warm, and the faux fur blanket Bruce grabbed to help bundle Danny up in only increased the cozy feeling the room had. It was quiet, as Duke had said, and comfortable. Even when Duke and Damian joined them to work on their homework they rarely spoke. And when they did it was in low voices, and to each other about their homework or school day.

Danny had accepted being brought there with the thought that he’d have to end up asking to go back to the bedroom later. But after having spent some time quietly looking around the room his gaze had settled on watching the fire. And slowly the crackle of the wood, soft scratch of pens and pencils, rustling of paper and quiet taps of technology muddled into a soft haze. Eventually Danny’s eyes drooped closed as the soft sounds and comforting warmth became a lullaby coaxing him to sleep. 

Duke was right. The couch was pretty nice.

_____________

This entire chapter was unplanned X'DD but I ain't complaining.

Bruce was as hard to draw as Dick was 8 | my art style is too cute coded for these rugged american comic characters.

Also I am extremely distracted translating a manga that not available in english just so I can know the story |D updates might be a little slower.

_____________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[galaxygermdraws]

Finally designing the Sonic cast. or. at least. Some of them. There are too many characters in this franchise these are just the ones I think about the most often. So uh. Ya. I will leave any notes under the cut since I have a lot, although not every character will have notes because we haven't explored every character (and share them with @shadesofvermillionvoid)

(reblogs with tags/comments are appreciated. Thankyu)

Sonic

Sonic's earring is Chip's bracelet. I don't think Sonic particularly likes having anything on his wrists, and Sonic Forces made that worse

The regulators are based directly on Sonic Prime, as I love the regulators in that show and think the idea of giving Sonic something similar to Shadow's Inhibitor Rings makes a lot of sense

He got those little markings due to accidentally absorbing some of Chaos' DNA

Tails

Tails has goggles like in Sonic Boom, because I like Boom Tails' design

He still has his robotic bits from Sonic Lost World, he still managed to keep his free will, but what happened was Zavok used his ability to control robots to force Tails to fight Sonic. Since then, Tails has updated his cybernetics so he can filter out any suspicious frequencies that could take his free will.

The cannon arm from Lost World is now basically like the guns from Mario and Rabbids, where you hold it in your hand and it like covers your arm. It's like that

Tails is a skeptic. This is the funniest bit but also thanks to Boom (the bad luck episode) it has some precedence

Knuckles

Knuckles in our lore is deeply spiritual (we are developing Mobian belief systems because we are Insane) , and the first time he saw Sonic he noticed he looked similar to the murals in Hidden Palace. So when Sonic turned out to be good, that made sense to him, as Sonic was common in a lot of prophetic murals around the island.

Knux actually thought Sonic was a god at first. Then he saw him choke on a Chili Dog.

He put beads around his spines after the events of Sonic Forces, since the war was over and he could relax for the first time in months.

Amy

Amy, like Knuckles, actually has a deep connection to her belief systems. We haven't figured out everything exactly, but she and Knuckles quickly bond over this aspect of their lives

I styled her quills differently because I kind of like giving her something that makes it obvious she is a hedgehog

Similarly, I gave her a back spine, and the hedgehog nose, since I had never realized she has the same kind of nose as Tails or Cream

Shadow

Shadow wears eye makeup. He puts it on every morning. For a while he had to have help with it (from both Rouge and Amy), but eventually figured out how to do it himself

He has yellow sclera due to the Black Arms blood. Similarly, he has a longer tail than most Mobian hedgehogs, and he cannot retract his fangs. His blood is green

He has some less favorable urges. Mostly related to the whole "Black Arms feed on living creatures" things, but they don't crop up often

He and Rouge have matching earrings

Rouge

I based her design off of Sonic Prime because I honestly prefer that design more. One because she looks like an actual spy, and two because it's based on her Sonic Heroes design. Similarly, she has Prim's hair tuft

Gave her the bat nose a lot of people do because I like the way it looks

I don't have a lot of thoughts about Rouge as of right now I am so sorry.

She and Shadow have matching earrings

Silver

Silver has a lot more scrapes and burns from his future, even though it's been fixed several times

He is displaced from time. He doesn't feel connected to his current future, especially since in our lore he is one of the few people to remember Sonic 06 (it's because in our lore, Timeline B Silver got his powers from Mephiles, in the sense that those time powers had to go SOMEWHERE after the timeline reset.)

I am going to be designing a weird messed up form for Silver (like Werehog or Doom Morph for Sonic and Shadow) based probably on Mephiles to some extent

Blaze

Like Silver, she has remnants of powers from the previous timeline. She already had fire powers in Timeline A, but she has much stronger ones now, as she still has Iblis inside of her, although the powers are no longer destructive, as they were never provoked

Her dimension is actually a result of Solaris ceasing to exist. That power still existed and had to go somewhere, so it ended up resulting in the Sol Dimension.

[sp00kymulderr]

it might be nice

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. FEELINGS. Angst. love. just...feelings. Mention of f receiving oral, reader is a not a us-citizen (visa stuff), commitment and intimacy issues all round, did I mentioned feelings? This just kinda started writing itself, i appreciate there isn't enough Dieter in it but it is what it is. Unedited, unbeta'd.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now.

"We could get married"

You look up from your book, drawn back from your far away to the sound of his voice. Dieter is looking at you expectantly.

Your eyes widen as you process the four words that just left his mouth.

"Dee, we…why would we…" You trail off, drawing your legs up and out of his lap, his thumb presses down on the arch of your foot once more before he lets it go.

The conversation had moved on hours ago. Over takeout you'd mentioned trepidation over being able to stay in the country, struggling with your visa and having no sponsorship since you couldn't seem to get a fucking job right now.

Dieter had listened, sympathised, and then eaten you out for dessert just to make you feel better about your situation.

It helped. He'd been pretty mediocre but extremely enthusiastic when you'd met, but now you'd taught him some tricks he knew just how to turn your mind off for a moment.

The conversation was finished the moment he put his mouth on you, or so you thought. He could help you pay for an extension but he wasn't influential or wealthy enough to sway the embassy into letting you stay longer.

"I'd bribe the fuck out of them if I could, you know that"

You did know that. You knew he'd do anything for you. He'd been saying it since the day he met you, once famous (more like infamous) movie star turned rehabilitated recluse with no one willing to be by his side until that day.

He'd met you in a Dennys, of all places. 3am waffles served to his lonely little corner booth because he found it hard to sleep these days, and he got hungry at random times. You took the late shifts because they paid the best, and you could be available in the day for calls from your agent that never came.

It hadn't been sexual at first. It hadn't been anything but a displaced, alone man and an exhausted, untethered waitress sitting in a booth and sharing free fries because chef made too many and they'd only go to waste. It had been whispered giggles, and sharing ridiculous Hollywood horror stories, and 'same time tomorrow' over and over again.

No one in LA had made you laugh. Not until you met him.

Dieter hadn't heard genuine laughter in years. Now he got to hear it every night.

Back in the now, you shake your head. He's being silly. He's trying to make you laugh again.

"Don't be stupid" You playfully shove his shoulder with your foot, but his face falls into a frown, and you feel a little crack in your heart at the sight. You watch as he stands, rubbing fingers across his forearm and muttering a little 'Stupid, yeah'. The tremor you feel inside you is nameless, and you will it to remain that way.

In the last six months of your knowing each other, there have been times when you've felt this same feeling. An ache at the thought that he could be anything other than happy. You'd long since left Dennys for the upward trajectory of the Cheesecake Factory but still when the late shift rolls around you feel a tug at your lips and a name on them, even when you'd seen him only hours before.

You're not an item, that's the thing. You're not a couple. Neither of you have ever said the words outright, no 'I want to be with you', 'I want to be yours'. Not to each other, at least.

It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now. It's enough, it's enough, it's enough. Enough that he will sit up all night long and read lines with you again and again and again. Enough that he tells you not to come over on his bad days but you do anyway, and hold him while he cries.

It's enough to be just this. Because more would only make it hurt more when he relapses, when you have to leave.

When you have to leave…

You close your book, set it down on the table that's strewn with pages for your latest audition. Last night he'd coached you through every single line, and then told you with passion just how perfect you were. You can hear him in the kitchen, and you know he's making himself a decaf latte with way too much caramel syrup and a dash of the kitkat sprinkles because that's what he always makes when he might be starting to crave something else.

That's how you know he wasn't making a joke. That's how you know your hurt his feelings. That and every look he's ever given you, every smile that lights up his eyes that's only been for you. That and the way his hands never stray far from you, always grounding himself with the touch of your skin to his.

"Dee…" You pad up to him slowly, watch as he tenses at your presence. Another prickle in your chest, you can't let him think you don't feel...what it is that you feel.

"Would it be so bad?" He asks without turning, the tinge of dejection in his tone making you reach out. "I'd treat you good, you know. We wouldn't even have to live together or anything…it can just be a way for you to stay. That's all. I didn't think it would be so bad for you"

God, you've had him right in your grasp this whole time. The two of you dancing around your feelings all because of fears you didn't even fully realise you had til now.

"I'd- I wouldn't even tell anyone you were my wife, if you didn't want me to. I wouldn't expect anything from it. I just…fuck,"

You turn him around with a pull to his arm, shake your head and bite back something hopeful and beautiful that inches up your throat,

"I don't want you to go"

Your arms are around his middle, a stifled sob as you bury your face against the soft, worn fabric of his favourite t-shirt - your favourite by extension because everything he loves you love too. He smells like him.

You breathe him in.

He smells like home.

You look up at him and smile. Not the pretty smile you give to casting agents - the one that makes you look perfect - but the big, happy, loving one he saw the very first night you two met in that Dennys at three in the morning on a random Tuesday. The one he gives you back is the same; he's smiled a thousand times on camera, in films and press appearances and award shows. No one else but you has ever seen this smile.

You take a deep breath. The crack in your heart starts in fusing back together.

"We could get married"

[helslastangel]

Mini Observations #5

based on my synastry with a friend/unrequited love interest

Sun Sextile Pluto

Powerful chemistry. Both parties are left changed by the connection. Can become completely obsessed with each other if not controlled. Both Sun and Pluto feel a bit lost or displaced without each other from the first time they meet. Especially Sun, as Pluto is less averse to isolation. This is generally positive bit can take a very dark turn if Pluto has bad intentions. The Sun person loves the Pluto person "first" if you will, or at least expresses it faster and more confidently than Pluto, who will either lower their inhibitions and reciprocate the sentiment or give and withdraw their attention at will to break the Sun person's confidence and keep them under control. This is one of those aspects where when it's good, it's truly amazing, but when it's bad, it's downright horrible for both parties.

Sun Sextile Venus

A soft, supportive aspect. Love at first sight vibes, even if not acted on. Not the strongest connection indicator out there but the emotional connection is real between them. The Sun person feels happier and more radiant when around the Venus person. Very much "life is worth living when you're here with me" vibes. Venus thrives on the Sun's energy and is attracted to their charm. Venus feels the urge to do anything to make Sun happy ("Oh hey, I notice you really like x, so I got 3 of them for you"). Sun adores Venus and will protect them at all costs ("They said WHAT to you at work? Oh no they don't! Drop the name and address, who do I need to beat up?").

☆●☆○☆●☆

Pluto Conjunct Venus

Strong sexual attraction. Moderate emotional attraction. Can be one-sided or more commonly lop-sided in terms of willingness to emotionally invest. Karmic. Love-hate dynamic possible. Pluto person can easily read the Venus person. Pluto person can become extremely attached to the Venus person, who is aware of this but may or may not be able to reciprocate.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Mars Trine Venus

Again, mutual sexual attraction. The Venus person admires the Mars person's physique, energy and confidence in themselves and their appearance. The Mars person admires the Venus person's spirit, aura, general behavior and way of being. This is a comfortable connection. Warm. Both romantic and lustful. Likely to keep the "spark" alive for s long time.

Mars Trine Pluto

Possessive. Intense. Soul ties are very strong here. Can be explosive or have many power struggles if not careful. Mars person is the muscle, Pluto person is the mind of the relationship. Mars person gets things going after Pluto person has given it thought and come to a conclusion. Can have an on-and-off friendship or relationship. Or tend to drift apart and back again regularly, even if in very small ways.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Venus Square Saturn

Could go either way. Other aspects and placements can heavily influence this one. Venus views Saturn as wise and an authority figure in a sense, but Venus might feel restricted from expressing themselves freely and creatively. May feel a sense of always being in trouble, annoying or disappointing the Saturn person in some way. Saturn views Venus as a ray of sunshine-that never sets. They enjoy the exuberance and freespirited nature of the Venus person whether they admit it or not, but feel irritated by it at the same time. Saturn may be overcritical of the Venus person, leading the Venus person to leave in frustration or stay but become depressed, if other placements do not balance this out. This aspect can also indicate 'right person, wrong time' relationships, or one-sided, unrequited love between friends. Delays of one kind ot another are common with this aspect.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Mars Opposite Neptune

Difficult aspect to balance. Mars wants to do everything now. If it's an argument, they want to finish it then and there. If it's a task, they want to get it out of the way. If it's a fun activity, they want to jump in and immerse themselves in it. Neptune is easily fatigued, easily overwhelmed and finds it difficult to keep up with Mars-and probably does not even want to. Mars is also blunt which Neptune can only handle in tiny doses, if at all, leading them to need space often, which hurts Mars' ego and leads them to push even harder, which in turn leads Neptune to resort to white lies to get the recovery time they need to remain in the connection. This is a difficult aspect that is only sustainable if Mars learns to be quiet and slow down and Neptune learns to speak up and pick up the pace. They can meet in the middle, but both have to be willing.

↤ go back to the masterlist

[gatheringbones]

[“As history has shown, and as I was at the time experiencing, a strap-on can be sexy, but it can also be a failure and a threat. It draws attention to how contradictory and fragile our definitions of male and female are, and how tightly we cling to them, even in relationships between women, where gender and sexuality are more flexible.

I think it’s important to look at how this played out, not just in the history of straight men policing lesbians but in the lesbian community policing itself. In the 1940s and 50s a bar scene began to develop in cities across the country, marking the first time when lesbians, particularly working-class ones, gathered publicly and in large numbers. During this time a butch/femme culture developed that included strict codes of dress and behavior both in and outside the bedroom. Butch women slicked back their hair, wore suits and jeans, and were, generally, the “givers” of sexual pleasure. Femme women wore dresses and makeup and were the “receivers” of sexual pleasure. In some ways, this culture was liberating, as it represented a powerful, cohesive group aesthetic and safety in numbers. Especially for women who actually identified as butch, it was also a chance to finally adopt masculine dress without being seen as failed or dangerous but rather as sexy and loveable. For others this culture was a trap, pushing women into restrictive sex and gender roles in the same ways heterosexuality had. It is by no means the only lesbian aesthetic, but I think part of the reason it has stuck around for so long in the popular imagination as the way lesbians are is because it allows straight people to again see themselves as the center of the sexual world.

In either case, strap-ons were not widely used, or at least not talked about. In Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold, a book that documents the lives of Black and white lesbians in Buffalo, there is a pretty exhaustive set of interviews about sex acts and terminology, but no one mentions owning, liking, or even trying sex with a strap-on. Indeed, the one mention of a dildo is one of bewilderment as Vic, a self-identified butch, talks about her friend pulling her into the bathroom to show her the new strap-on she got. “Jesus, she whipped this thing out . . . I’m supposed to be butch and my face felt like a neon sign. I could feel the embarrassment. How do you admire a dildo? No seriously, what do you say?”

Butches in the book took great pride “in their own hands and their ability to please,” which “did not dispose them to think that a dildo would improve their lovemaking.” It’s interesting that they considered the dildo less potent and successful than hands. This could be read as displacing the power of the dick, but, coupled with the silence surrounding strap-on use, it also points to a greater fear about the lesbian body. How regulated and small it had to be to exist. How easily it could be diminished by something outside itself, or destroyed altogether.

In the lesbian radical feminist movement of the 1960s and 70s, there was also a great deal of attention focused on creating distance from dicks. Jill Johnston argued in A Lesbian Nation that the only true road to female liberation was the conscious “withdrawal at every level from the man to develop woman supremacy.” This meant that not only butch/femme dynamics but also penetrative sex were out. Anne Koedt developed the theory that the vaginal orgasm was a myth perpetrated by Freud in order to center male sexual desire for penetration, though her evidence for this was a study done by Kinsey—a man—that found the vagina was not particularly sensitive to touch. True orgasms, Koedt argued, only came from the clitoris—even though she interestingly also called the clit “the female equivalent of the penis”—so if women wanted to have enjoyable sex there was no need for penetration, only clitoral stimulation. Andrea Dworkin went so far as to call the penis “a hidden symbol of terror” and argued that “violence is male, the male is the penis.”

Dorothy Allison writes about the effects this had on herself and other lesbians at the time. “No one admitted to using dildos, wanting to be tied up, wanting to be penetrated, or talking dirty—all that male stuff . . . my lover wanted us to perform tribadism, stare into each other’s eyes, and orgasm simultaneously. Egalitarian, female, feminist, revolutionary.” In attempting to free themselves from the penis, in many ways radical lesbians ended up reinscribing the power of the dick and sacrificing the range of sexual pleasure they could experience in the process.

In a counter to this, the lesbian sexual outlaws of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s argued that dildos were actually great, not problematic, but primarily because they didn’t reference the penis at all. Some even argued that wearing a dildo turns a woman into a cyborg, not woman, man, or even human, just a body involved in the mechanistic movements of giving and receiving pleasure. While there is something freeing about this argument, as it gets us out from under the idea that we can’t talk about strap-ons and that a woman wearing a strap-on is only trying to make up for a never-ending lack, it still bypasses the sticky, complicated reality of the gendered/human world we live in and the simple fact that sometimes lesbians want strap-ons to look like penises.

All of this begs the question: can a dyke wear a dick and just have some damn fun?”]

amy gall, from my dick, your dick, our dick, from wanting: women writing about desire, 2023

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

[livfastdieyoung69]

We both need punk x reader x drew so im just sliding this in front of you and waving it aggressively

Punkinytre x reader where they fight for your attention and you just kinda live for it

MENAGE A TRIOS

(Cm Punk x Gn!Kinda bratty!Reader x Drew Mcintyre)

You had always been quite close to Drew ever since his return to the WWE. You had been in NXT together for a short amount of time, and you got to spend plenty of time with him. Drew was probably one of the sweetest men on the roster, especially when you both moved to the Smackdown roster and had to put up with many big egos. The way he looked after his comeback made him not only great to be around, but great to look at. He had always been on the more handsome side, but the filled-in beard, and improved and much bigger muscles made his babyface disappear, and goddamn did he look good. Considering your many years of…friendship, it was a little nerving to see him so out to get Jey Uso that he offered to help The Judgement Day during War Games. He knew your feelings about TJD, and sure, he apologized and said it was nothing but business but it was kinda out of character for him. Even more than your displacement for TJD, you were great friends with the entire other team.

Also that night, directly after Drew’s loss, which you had made your way to the Guerilla to comfort him for, TV static and guitar hit the speakers and a man you hadn’t seen for many years, walked through the curtains. A man you held very close to your heart, just as close as Drew. You had a pretty similar relationship with him too. Around the start of COVID, WWE hadn’t been doing so well and neither was your career. You’d gotten a couple of calls from a new wrestling company looking to make it big and took a chance. With that chance, your career grew massively, enough to eventually make a great return to WWE just six short months ago, and your relationships grew too. You were held to higher standards in the locker room and looked upon as wrestling loyalty. One of the men who helped you achieve that was the one who just made the arena shake, made the wrestling community break in damn half, the CM Punk.

As much as you wanted to run out into the arena, to grab ahold of Punk and hug Drew, tell him everything would be okay, you unfortunately had to stay back. You stood with a good part of the production crew, as well as HHH himself, the man who had brought you back, who watched you practically shake in your excitement as the main eventers started to pour into the room.

Drew was one of the first to stomp into the Guerrilla, angrily making his way towards you. As much as you wanted to give him the whole ‘I told you so!’ speech, he didn’t look up to it, so instead you settled for balancing on your tippy toes and hugging as close as you could reach around his armpits- two things about Drew had never changed since you met him. His kindness towards you, and his height, the man was a damn beanstalk.

“You’ll get em’ next time, D, you did great! I’m sure it was Dominik’s fault, anyway.” You rub his back, giving him a little pat while he breathes out a sad chuckle into your shoulder. Before you begin to try to pull away from him, you catch a glimpse of the curtain moving one final time, prying your eyes from Drew’s pouting face. You aren’t able to help the scream that leaves you as you practically push Drew off you.

“OhmyGod, Phil!” He watches you rush towards him with a glint in his eye and the same grin he always greeted you with, arms opening to hold you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back!” You’re all but yelling into his ear, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just laughs down at you, rubbing your back like you had done to Drew, who is now stomping his way to his dressing room and pouting even more.

“Couldn’t ruin the surprise now, could I?” The cheeky son of a bitch hadn’t told anyone but HHH, whom Phil had made it clear to that he was allowed to tell the whole roster except for you. Hunter just so happened to decide not to tell anyone. You’re just about climbing up him while he sways the two of you, stumbling away from the curtain entrance to get out of the way of the staff.

“I’m so glad you're back, Phil.” You muttered into his chest, covered by a new CM Punk Chicago flag shirt, just about in tears. “God, I missed you.”

His hand is placed on the back of your head, squeezing you tightly once last time with his other arm before pulling away an arm's length. He keeps his hands on your elbows, thumbs gently feathering across your skin. “I missed you too, Champ.” You didn’t even have a championship at the moment, but that was what he’d called you since your first meeting in AEW. You held the FTW Championship for most of your time with the company, passing it onto Hook when it was your time to leave in a brilliant FTW Rules Match after holding it for over two years.

Since the heartwarming (for you) return of Phil, things between you and Drew were…different. He huddled closer to you when showing you pictures of his adorable black cat Chaz, or grabbing you by the hip and dragging his fingertips up and down your side when he catches you in the hall. It's even worse when he spots you around Phil, which you usually are, he’ll wrap himself around you from behind and refuse to let go. Then again, Phil seemed to do the same thing around McIntyre. He had been touchy like that in AEW though, so you didn’t chalk it up to anything. But sometimes, you start to second guess if maybe you should chalk it to something.

Like the time you’d been waiting to get your hair fixed before your match with Phil in the chair next to you, scooched until you were maybe a foot apart. The two of you had been giggling at pictures of Larry when Drew stalked up behind you, kilt in one hand while dressed for the ring, bringing his other arm to rest just above your chest. You looked up from Phil's phone in surprise, feet pausing in their soft kicks against the bottom metal of the chair.

“Oh, hey, Drew.” You give him a grin while shutting your phone off and squeezing the warm muscles of his tricep. He gives you a warm smile through the mirror in return, scooching in closer and giving you a quick, barely touching kiss on the head.

“Hey, sweetheart. Have you seen Brittany?” He places his kilt, the blue one, on the arm of your chair. You shake your head, letting out a ‘nuhuh’.

“Why, what's the matter?” You ask, confusion and concern painting against your face as you turn to face him, his arm falling to your shoulder. Brittany was one of the few medical personnel that traveled with the roster, and the nicest one. Most people went to her if they had the choice. “You’re not feelin' good?” You stand from your chair and quickly circle it to place your hand on his forehead. Too worried about him, you didn’t notice the smug look he sent Punk or the snare he received. He takes your wrist and gently prys you from his forehead.

“Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet thing. Just a bit of a headache, that's all.” Another thing about Drew, he had picked up a recent thing for nicknames. Like, really, really cute ones that usually have you battering your eyelashes, but you were too worried for that at the moment.

“Well, why didn’t you say something? C’mon, Brits busy, y’know I’ve always got some medicine in my bag.” You tugged him along with a quick reassurance to Phil that you’d be right back, once again missing the look Drew gave him over his shoulder.

Or the time you had been walking the halls towards catering with Drew, laughing so hard at something he had said it forced you to stop and wrap around his arm so you wouldn’t bend your knees. They’d been feeling a little sore and Brittany had suggested stretching and trying not to use them as much as you could. Drew had even offered to carry you to catering, but you wouldn’t let him. Maybe after your match. Anyways, you’re pressed against Drew who's looking down at you like the love-sick puppy he (and Phil) is, when you’re moment is interrupted.

“Hey, there you are, Champ!” Phil is jogging up from some random hallway that cuts through the one you were currently in. You slip from Drew's grasp as you look over at the sound of Phil’s echoing voice. You greet him with a warm smile and a short, warming hug. Phil was always warm, you could remember the first time you met- he pulled you into a friendly side-hug, radiating warmth physically and emotionally.

“You’ve been looking for me?” You ask him while Drew leans against the cold, white-painted brick wall behind the two of you. With your back to him, you couldn’t see him smoldering in his new spot.

“Well, I figured,” Punk starts, looking at you teasingly while he takes off his cotton zip-up jacket, printed with his iconic fists and the Chicago flag. “Knowing you, you’d dress for the outside weather and not the weather in here, of where we will be all day.” The arenas were always freezing, but you always forgot and instead dressed for whatever season it was, so, in turn, you were always freezing too. Phil throws his jacket around your shoulders and you’re quick to pull your arms through the sleeves.

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver! I’ve been freezing all day, I keep putting off my warm-ups.” You rattle off as you hug it close to you, the fabric holding onto the remnant of his warmth.

“Anytime, babe.” That was a new one. You weren’t usually a fan of the term, but from him…it just fit, from him. “Hey, let me know when you decide to do those warm-ups, I’ll come and find you again, yeah?” You nod and bring him into another small hug while he gives your cheek a small kiss before saying goodbyes. Of course, you don’t notice this either, but Drew won’t stop staring at you bundled up in another man's, let alone Punks, clothes all night long.

Moments like those, really do make you look back and question everything. The jealous? glances anytime you’ve somehow obtained the others’ jacket, merch, or even just an ounce of the others' time. The names don’t help either. Neither do the kisses, and hugs, and constant, never-ending praise. Now that you thought about it, it couldn’t be more obvious that they both had a thing for you. But when you really stopped, and really thought, it was kinda great! I mean, C’mon! Two great, very handsome guys who were constantly fighting for your attention and also a little fruity with each other? What could possibly be better? Even with your new revolutionary thought, sometimes you still doubted yourself.

Until the one day, when about half of the roster was stuck in the airport in a delay, and to make it worse, it was pretty late and the airport was tiny. All the stores and restaraunts were closed, and you weren’t allowed to leave cause there was no way back in. You’d been stuck in the terrible, flimsy chairs, freezing your ass off for atleast half an hour. Just like the arenas, you always forget to dress for airport weather. You’d been sitting with Naomi and her husband Jimmy, who Jey was tagging along with. The trio could always make you laugh.

Drew had been the first to approach, plopping his duffel into the seat next to you, quick to notice you just about shivering in your spot, beginning to ruffle around in his bag for something you could wear. You’re attention had been on the twins and the never-ending jokes they send back and forth when the soft material draped over your shoulders, so you assumed it was Drew. The twins’, following in the footsteps of Naomi, laughter stops as they look over you before quickly looking away awkwardly as if they were intruding. The three’s actions confuse you, but Drew’s big hand gently peeling the jacket from you and replacing it with a different one does so even more.

You finally look behind you, finding Drew and Phil glaring at each other while this time Phil removes the jacket, replacing it with his again.

“I put it there first.”

“I got here first.”

Drew rebukes, reaching to take the hoodie off of you for a third time before you twist to face the both of them, Phil's hoodie falling from your back either way. Clearly, the whole fighting thing was working on a first come, first serve thing but it seemed to finally catch up. Even with you out of reach, the two continue in their bickering, Phil even rounding your chair to get in Drew's face.

Now, the whole fighting over you thing was great when you were benefiting from it. Now, you were freezing and they kept torturing you with an ounce of warmth and taking it away and they just kept arguing and getting louder through your attempts to stop them, there was no benefit to any of this at all. Jimmy and Naomi were whispering under their breath and Jey was pretending that something was important on his phone’s home screen. God, why did they even have to argue, couldn’t you just have two boyfriends? Who said you can’t have them both?….Actually, why couldn’t you?

“Hello??” You finally yell and stand, now between them, annoyed at being ignored. You pull Drew’s hoodie from his grasp and take Phils off the back of your chair. “It’s great that you both want me and everything, cause I totally want you too, so can’t we all just chill for a second?” You take your seat again, curling up while pulling Phil’s hoodie on and placing Drew’s over your lap considering Drews was bigger. Your The boys look down at you in confusion while you get comfy.

“Wha..wait, wait. Who are you talking to, you want me or Drew?” Phil speaks up first. You look back up at him, completely exasperated, so much so your face makes Naomi burst into laughter way louder than she meant (All three of them are trying too hard to keep it together).

“Both of you, dummy! Who said I couldn’t have the best of both worlds?” When no one speaks up, your hands wave around before falling back to your lap. “Exactly. And don’t pretend like ya’ll don't look at each other either, I’ve seen everything you do on TV.” They blush at your accusation, but before Drew tries to defend himself you speak up again, grabbing both of their hands. “Now, c’mere, I’m cold.” You tug them forward, each falling into the seats beside you.

You turn to lean into Punk's neverending heat, curling up against his heat while shoving your feet into Drew’s lap. Theres still tension in the two of them, along with the three across from you, but as time passes and silence washes over it seems like everyone realizes maybe they did have no reason to fight. Drew breaks the silence with a scoff, his hand running up and down the back of his leg.

“You’re a bit of a brat, eh?” He teases you, eyebrows raised with a grin.

“Oh, gets whatever they want, this one,” Phil responds before you can, the arm around you going up to gently slide under your chin. “Just now noticing?”

“Wow, alright. I see how it is. No excuse to fight each other so we’re taking it out on me now, huh? I get it-“ You raise your hands in fake defense, moving to get up from your seat but they both pull you back down with noises of denial. You fall into laughter, the boys quickly following shortly before silence returns for a moment. You turn away, looking at the screen to see if there's any new information on the delay.

“Think you’ll be able to put up with the both of us?” Punk mutters against your head. You scoff, your hand coming up to hold his as you search for your flight on the screen.

“You think this is amateur hours or somethin’? I’ve put up with the both of you for years, seems like no one else can handle one of you, let alone two.” Your sock-padded foot prods against Drew's thighs, his grip on your leg tightening for a second in response as he looks over at you fondly. He pulls your other hand out from under his jacket, putting it in his before placing a kiss on it.

“Seems like you’re stuck with us then, lover.” Drew speaks with an all-knowing smirk as you turn bashful (those damn nicknames and that damn accent, ugh!).

You respond with a muttering of ‘Guess So’, falling back against Phil after finding your plane and seeing nothing new. Figuring you’ll be there for a while you do your best to get comfy, and thanks to your boys, it's pretty easy. Even if you weren’t the most conventional…couple? group? and even if the other two acted like they wanted to rip each other's heads off, it worked, no matter what. In every universe, you worked, no matter what.

i hate the ending but i need this out its getting ridicolous and im not reading ts over AGAIN either way it isn’t as much as i thought it was i was just fr dragging my feet through this like i love it but i just dont wanna do anything

im sick :( i havent been productive in like weeks so i figured id finally do something while im finally at home and i have nothing else to do lol.

i miss my man jeffrey and in the time that ive been doing nothing my attraction to weird little freaks has started to dominate even more over like.. normal? people? girl idk im losing my mind someone give me freak(i went to a rob zombie concert oohhh i need that man so baddddd)

anyways…enjoy ig oh also i literally just looked up throuple cuz i was stuck on a title and that was the first thing that poppedup and it made me giggle so

[nwjws]

when you break something important to him - yjw 🎐

; pairing - idol!jungwon x gf!reader

; synopsis - you didn't mean to break jungwon's ipad, and he didn't mean to let all his stress and anger out on you.

; tags - fluff, angst? one shot, ; warnings - swearing, jungwon gets pretty mad, but he also ends up begging for your forgiveness, not proofread so there may be typos/grammar errors and other things i missed

; wc - 2.1k

; author's corner! this was requested! not my best work, but i hope u enjoy! :)

you're in deep shit.

staring at the broken screen of your boyfriend's ipad, you know you're in trouble.

with jungwon's schedule packed with practice and shows, you decided you wanted him to come back to a clean and tidy home. so you used the spare key he'd given you to enter the boy's dorms and do them a favour.

upon opening the door, you were met by the sight of clothes spread around the floor, piled on top of each other. unwashed dishes sat in the sink, and- is that a receipt from something sunghoon bought two months ago?

yeah, you had your work cut out for you.

taking a deep breath in, you mentally prepare yourself for the next hour or two.

you got through it though, and seeing the place get cleaner made you feel proud of yourself. it's like the dorms suddenly increased in space, with the lack of clothes and displaced furniture littering the rooms.

you only had to polish the surfaces though. so you'd been wiping the dining table absent mindedly, thinking about how jungwon would react once he saw the place. maybe you could even pull a few kisses out of him.

but you should have paid more attention, and you would have noticed his ipad sitting on the side of the table.

the device fell to the tiled floor with a loud crack, having fallen on its corner before flopping onto it's screen. you'd knocked it off the edge.

a gasp escapes you, and you quickly knelt down to inspect the damage.

the corner had been scratched, the damage seeping into black at the corner of the actual screen. a crack striked through the screen, and colourful lines lit up rather than the lockscreen when you turned it on.

god, how did it even manage to get that bad? you hadn't thought the fall was that bad at first. clearly you made a misjudgment.

panic seized through you as you realised how important the device was to your boyfriend, using it in his practices almost every day. and now it was sitting in your hands, broken and unusable.

your hear the door unlock and voices filtering in.

perfect timing, you groan in your head.

"oh- y/n?" you hear jungwon's voice shout in surprise, the happiness in his voice making you apprehensive.

"hi..." you greet him weakly, trying to hide the broken ipad behind your back.

"wow, you cleaned up the place?" riki gasped. "it's amazing!"

"i wish i had a girlfriend who'd do this for me," heeseung chuckles, placing his bag on the table.

"oh my god, what's this?" you hear sunoo gasp from behind you.

you quickly spin around, turning to look at him, while the device stayed behind your back. you and the boy stare at each other with wide eyes, and you're about to say something, when jungwon speaks up.

"y/n... what happened here?"

only then do you realise that you'd forgotten jungwon was right behind you after turning to face sunoo.

"i... accidentally knocked it off the table..." you admit hesitantly. "it happened just before you guys entered."

"ah..." jungwon sighed, taking the ipad from your hands.

you gulped as you watched him check the device, before deeming it completely useless, seeing as it couldn't even show the screen.

he gave heeseung a look, who then signalled the others to go to their rooms. they didn't want to see their leader angry after a long and tiring day on stage.

"look at this... do you even realise how stupid that was? how am i supposed to practice tomorrow?" jungwon says to you, pinching his nose bridge.

"i know... i'm so sorry. i should have been more careful."

"yeah you have! i just wanted to come home and rest today, you know? but now i have something else to deal with after a busy day."

"i'll buy you a new one," you offer.

"no, i just- i don't want to talk about this right now. not to you," he shakes his head and turns away, opening his phone to text his manager. "it might have been better if you never came in the first place."

you're shocked. you understood that he had a tiring day dancing - that's why you wanted to try and lift some weight off his shoulders. but is he seriously disregarding your own efforts?

"are you being for real right now?"

"yes i am, why wouldn't i be?" he challenged. "i just spent all day on stage, using up all my energy, and i come home just wanting to sleep but instead i have another problem to deal with?!"

"i just wanted to help you!"

"i didn't need your help! it did less for me than you thought," he shouts.

"you aren't the only one working your ass off all day! i also have my own job, and still decided to go here straight after to clean up the dorm - which, by the way, was so messy?! it's like you guys don't know how to clean up after yourself."

"you know we don't have time! isn't that why you wanted to help?"

"oh, so you're twisting my words on me now, huh? i spent two hours cleaning the floors, the dishes, i even washed the clothes just laying around! you seriously didn't have enough time in your packed schedule to just put a piece of clothing back in your closet? you just let it pile up like garbage!" you huffed out.

"if you're just gonna shout at me, leave! you know how much this is going to set me back? if you didn't break my ipad i could easily do my work with no problem," he yells at you.

"i can't believe you right now. you're letting a stupid device - which i obviously broke by accident allow you to ignore everything else i did? to get in between us?" you stare at him with exasperation in your voice. you want to cry, and it physically hurts having to stop the sobs from escaping your throat.

"what?" his tone shifts from an angry to a more dejected one.

"i know your ipad is important, and i had planned to get you a new one because of it. i just wanted to take a burden off your back. but if i'm clearly not doing enough, then i guess i wasted my time here."

you pick up your own belongings and make your way towards the exit.

"wait-" he grabs your wrist, but you shake him off.

"i'm leaving, like you asked. sleep well jungwon, you clearly need it."

.

jungwon hadn't left you any missed calls or texts the next day. and you hadn't really expected him to.

in your time dating him, you had learned that it was best to give him some time to process things. then you'd start pestering him to talk about it after a day or so - you two always came out of your arguments stronger this way.

by the time his first attempt at talking to you again came - a call at 10pm, of all times - you decided. decided that you wouldn't make this easy for him, not when he made it hard for you the other night.

so you ignored the call. sat and stared at your screen, waiting for him to stop.

when he did, you turned your phone off and watched some new series on your tv until you fell asleep peacefully.

the next morning, you woke up and found that your boyfriend had tried to call you five more times, but went right to voicemail since your phone was off. you also received the 20 messages he had sent.

still, you resisted the urge to reply, and went off to the store.

again, jungwon tried calling you throughout the day, when he presumably had breaks during practice. every time your phone lit up and rang that familiar tone, your fingers itched to press answer and accept his apology and offer for a date out on the town. but you persisted in your resolve to keep him on his toes. he's going to have to grovel for your forgiveness.

after picking out a new ipad, you paid and left the store with the box in your hands. you fished your phone out of your pocket and finally turned your phone off again, so his incessant calls would stop disturbing your peaceful shopping (read: everyone was giving you weird looks for not answering the ringing of your phone).

someone should give you an award for not giving into your strong urges to do so.

looking at the time, you think jungwon's probably leaving practice now. no doubt he'd find you soon, if he wasn't already on the way.

is it unfair? you ask yourself, but you know the answer is no. jungwon had been completely unreasonable during the argument. you understood he was tired and how important the tablet was to him, but it didn't give him an excuse to overlook everything else you did. to shout at you like that, over something stupid like a cracked screen, none the less.

okay... maybe it was more than a cracked screen. you should apologise for it again.

"y/n!" ah, there he is.

you turn to see the face of your lovely boyfriend, who's been chasing you all day.

"jungwon." he ran up to you, panting, but not giving himself time to breathe when he took your hands in his.

"please, y/n. i'm sorry, really," he started, staring at you with those wide, beautiful eyes. "i know i was harsh, and it was stupid. you did so much for me, a big favour, and i had the audacity to react like that. over an ipad!" he laughed.

"i'm literally the biggest idiot on earth. in the whole universe. you're amazing, you know? i feel like you give me way more than i give back to you. so i want to show you how sorry i am.

"let's go watch the latest movie at the cinema tomorrow. it's on me. and then, i'll ask for some time off so we can go to that butterfly garden 20 minutes away - i'll try to catch some for you. not that they'd be as pretty as you, though."

you watched as he gradually lowered to his knees, looking up at you with pleading eyes. you quickly pulled him back up, shaking your head.

"don't- don't beg for my forgiveness," you sigh. "i understand. i'm sorry too, for breaking your ipad. so i got you this-" you handed him the bag that held his new ipad. his jaw dropped as he took it from you, gaping back at you.

"thank you..." he trailed off softly. in disbelief.

"this doesn't mean i forgive you just yet, though," you harrumphed. "you'll have to work harder. that butterfly garden does sound nice."

jungwon smiled and followed as you began walking away, arms folded.

"i'll bring you to that cat cafe downtown," he said, trying to take your hand in his, but you refused.

"even if you're allergic to them?"

"i'll just take my meds," he shrugged nonchalantly. "as long as you're happy. i know you love their little calico."

you gasp, remembering the adorable cat from the cafe. "i miss him so much! can we go now?"

"you have your own cat! me!" he pouted, going in front of you to stop you.

"well, it seems like my 'own kitty's' been misbehaving," you rolled your eyes playfully.

"i know, i know! i'm sorry. i'll bring you there right now."

jungwon called for a driver, who picked you two up and dropped you off at the cat cafe.

you failed to keep your snickers to yourself as you watched him sit in your booth, sniffing and rubbing at his (now red) nose, while you played with the cute little cats.

the corners of your mouth tug upward when you see him open the case you had bought, which you had customised at the store to have your lipstick stains all over it. he immediately ran to you and snaked his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into the air, and spinning you around while shouting 'thank you, i love you'.

"i love you too," you laugh as you kiss him on the cheek, leaving another mark on his face, identical to those on his new ipad's case.

; perm taglist - @lovelovelovebts

[ddejavvu]

Hello hello my lovely Mei!! How’s it going? I am a bit scared to go into my kitchen because I saw a long bug that was really fast and it disappeared somewhere behind a cabinet :/ I’ve come to you for some comfort maybe a little something about this with Bradley or Jake? I hope you’re doing well <33

Bradley's sleeping. The whole reason you're in the kitchen in the first place is because you want to make him breakfast in bed, so waking him seems counterintuitive. But something long and squirmy and crawly just slipped behind one of your cabinets, the one you'd wanted to reach into, and there's no way you're making pancakes with an extra houseguest.

"Brad," You push at his shoulder gently, marveling the way he's face-down in the pillow and somehow still breathing, "Bradley!"

"Mmf?" Comes his rather unsavory reply, muffled as he groans it straight into the pillow.

"There's a bug," You hiss, "In the kitchen. A big one, and I'm scared."

"Okay." He pushes his palms flat against the mattress to lift himself off of it, and you adore the way he muscles through his sleepy state to help you. He barrels down the hallway towards the kitchen with far less coordination than he'd have if he was fully awake, but it doesn't seem to bother him; he's tired, so he'll go after the bug tired, because you need him to. He's not going to make you wait and worry while he scrolls through his phone, and he's not going to get coffee first to wake him up. You need his bug-catching services, sleepiness be damned.

"Where?" He grunts, eyes still struggling to stay open. You point warily at the cabinet it had escaped behind without crossing the threshold into the kitchen itself, merely poised at the doorway watching.

"Got it," He grumbles, taking a spatula from a jar on the counter.

"Oh- Bradley, no!"

"Hm?" He turns to look back at you, spatula in hand, "What, babe?"

"That's for the food," You fret, "The bug's dirty. And- and so is behind the cabinet."

"Okay." He agrees thoughtlessly once more, taking orders like you're his commanding officer, "Can you get me a hanger?"

You retrieve a metal one, so that it can be bent and warped to however he wants to fish the bug out. But his brain isn't functioning that intensively yet, and he merely swipes it behind the cabinet. To his credit, he pushes it out and away from you, but all he does is displace the creature, not capture it.

You let out a mangled sound, something between a gasp and a cry. The bug scuttles away from you at first, but then to your horror, rounds on you, like it knows you're the one who snitched on it.

"Ew- I- Bradley!" You gush, already backing away from the doorway that it's charging. He's finally more awake now, and though you'd have liked to merely set the thing outside, you're not upset when Bradley crunches it with the bottom of his slipper.

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief when it's trapped beneath his foot, and you try to calm your racing heart.

"You okay, honey?" He asks, and you nod disjointedly.

"That was scary," You note, and he hums in agreement.

"He's gone now. I'll clean him up." He grimaces slightly at the mess under his shoe, "Can I have some wipes?"

Bradley doesn't make you move the bug's corpse, just scoops it up into a bleach wipe and scrubs down the floor. You watch with a perpetually nervous expression, even though the threat has been neutralized.

"All gone." Bradley reports, the bleach wipes falling sadly into the garbage can. You nod, gratefully accepting the embrace that he tugs you into, leaning into the kiss that he smushes against your forehead.

"Why were you up so early?" He asks, some of that sleepy fog still thickening his voice.

"I wanted to make you breakfast in bed," You admit, and you feel him chuckle against you.

"Should I go get back in bed?" He asks.

"I think I want you to stay," You fret, holding the end of his too-long sleeve, "But I won't make you cook. You just have to be on bug patrol."

"Bug patrol," He echoes curiously, testing the title on his tongue. He seems to approve, leaning in with a smug smile on his face to peck at your lips, "That's me, honey."

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being another displaced Padawan with Cal Kestis

Cal Kestis x jedi!reader

warnings: angst, STAR WARS JEDI SURVIVOR SPOILERS

a/n:

prompt:

you and cal went way back

like, jedi padawan back

so after the purge, about five years later, you guys reunited by chance. thanks to cere junda, no less

and, god, seeing someone so familiar after trying to get by on your own, someone who knew the feeling of the trajectory of your life being thrown off before you were ready, that wasn’t easy to come by

“you’re here” -cal

“i’m here” -you

“we survived” -cal

“just barely” -you

cere was delighted that the two of you could have lifted each other’s spirits so much, which was very much needed in desperate times, as you two were just given a very important mission by a former jedi master in your order

you and cal kicked some serious ass together, helping one another relearn old lessons your masters had taught during your youth

“i think running across walls was the hardest thing i was ever taught” -you

“it took me forever to get that right! i could only get two steps in before i plummeted to the floor!” -cal

you shared a lot of stories and emotions during travels, in private

and not all of them were positive, but this was the first chance you’d had in five years to face these emotions, to air out your feelings

“do you miss the clones? i was so fond of our battalion, they were always so kind to me” -you

“i think…i think that was the worst part. the people who defended us in battle, gave me pep talks before training, always there, that same face at every turn suddenly behind the blaster that was meant to put me down” -cal

“i miss them” -you

cal and you had your missions together…and separately. you’d be on one planet and he on the other, trying to race the empire and inquisitors to the holocron

“it could happen all over again” -you

“it could be the key to saving the galaxy” -cal

“or we’d be creating a generational tragedy” -you

“so would the empire” -cal

“you’ve got me there” -you

cal gifting you ponchos from his travels (lol)

“any chance you like pink?” -cal

“well…” -you

braving zeffo alone while you knew cal was somewhere far more dangerous, you had a bad feeling about it

but your teachings from the order were always the same, no attachment. mission first, feelings second…no, last

but on cal’s adventure, he found merrin, a nightsister from dathomir

you hadn’t seen any nightsisters since ventress, which did happen to make you feel a bit off

“cal…you sure?” -you

“trust me, y/n. things have changed. merrin is just like us” -cal

“cal told me much about you. another survivor. a pleasure” -merrin

you and merrin grew quite close actually

she was truly spectacular, and swapping stories with her was sort of educational

“wait…the jedi responsible for the nightsister genocide? you said lightsabers, plural? how many?” -you

“four” -merrin

“two green, two blue?” -you

“precisely. how did you know?” -merrin

“hang on, no way—” -cal

“my master killed him shortly before we were split up…when the clones turned” -you

“grevious? really? master kenobi finally got him?” -cal

“who is this ‘grevious?’” -merrin

“general grevious, he was a separatist general—a cyborg. he wasn’t a jedi, he stole lightsabers from his kills. he ordered the attack on your home” -cal

“i’m so sorry, merrin” -you

you three were still healing from many scars, but doing it together was much more achievable than trying alone

it was a wonder you even made it to fortress inquisitorius

you, cal, cere. all three of you fought like hell to save those kids.

now, cal and you, you two had much different perspectives than say, cere or trilla

displaced padawans. little guidance. cal was barely old enough to even be a padawan learner, but times were desperate and the order called upon the youngling to start quite early. you were in a similar boat. it made you two see eye to eye better than most

trilla, a padawan with much more training and insight, one who was failed by the order that she was most loyal to. failed by her own master.

cere, a devout jedi master who failed many people who were counting on her. who lost herself to a side of herself that every jedi is supposed to fight.

and just before any resolution could come of all of you together, the famed and feared darth vader showed himself

and the sinking feeling you felt before he arrived froze you

“what is it, y/n? y/n?” -cere

*ominous breathing sounds*

you shook off the feeling, fleeing instead

cal and you were split up when you swore vader made a point to hold you back

“run cal! get out of here!” -you

“y/n l/n, i was hoping i would see you” -vader “where is obi-wan?!”

“i thought you were dead” -you

“is that what he told you?” -vader

“you’re going to kill me to get back at him? i haven’t seen him since the purge, anakin! i left!” -you

“there is no anakin!” -vader “did you leave, or did he leave you?”

“are you just going to let cal get away?” -you

“he can’t get far” -vader

“my journey is not important to you” -you

“you are like me, y/n. obi-wan failed us. these inquisitors are weak, impressionable, disposable. but i know how you think. i know how he thinks. i give you the opportunity to join me. fight with me.” -vader

“i saw the holotapes, anakin. i saw what you did to the younglings and i will not let you do it again. we are not alike, obi-wan did not fail me. i took a page out of ahsoka’s book, i found my own path. and it is not beside you.” -you

“this is not over, y/n. i trust you’ll find your way out” -vader, force pushing you off a ledge

you did find you way back out and merrin was quick to save you before going back for cal

you were left completely unharmed, as well, which was quite the surprise to everyone else

“what happened back there, y/n?” -cal

“nothing i’d like to relive” -you

cal nodded and let it go, focusing on the holocron floating before you all

your mind kept replaying memories as they discussed what to do with it

memories of anakin’s massacre. vader’s speech. younglings you couldn’t save. luke and leia somewhere across the galaxy. the inquisitors.

“destroy it.” -you

in one quick swipe, cal took his lightsaber to the glowing blue cube. no questions asked

and from there on, it was no longer about the order. you remembered why you left in the first place. the purge, the politics, your master couldn’t contain himself. your troops turned their blasters on you. everything you were taught was bantha fodder. and you were just a padawan

it was now about disassembling. scaring the people in power while giving the little guy some hope.

“this is a much better gig than obi-wan playing by the rules” -you

“from what you told me, him and anakin never played by the rules” -cal

the name made you shudder, but you pushed past it

“well, anakin was known as the rulebreaker. obi-wan always tried to reel him in. but, i’ve noticed a rule or two that master kenobi had bent” -you

“anakin has a padawan too, right?” -cal

“he did. she was also a rule breaker. when she left the order, i almost followed her. last i heard, she went to mandalore with half of the 501st. i, uh—” -you

“right…” -cal

you were still haunted from the encounter on nurr. still hadn’t told cal and it was eating you up inside.

but the fighting made it feel better

dismantling, stealing, helping

and then merrin left. and cere. and greez settled down. and you and cal were just two makeshift jedi knights with your tragic pasts and your need to keep your place in the galaxy

and keep each other close

but not too close

those rules you followed, the one’s obi-wan followed, you threw them out a long time ago. the jedi order was corrupt. you examined each council master postmortem and decided that they were all flawed despite their rank. you hated them for it.

but decided the one teaching you would follow would be to lose hate, a step to the dark side.

you didn’t really even know at this point, what was the difference between right and wrong anymore

cal and you continued fighting. joined up with saw gerrera. never left each other’s sides

which…sparked feelings you’d never really been taught or told how to deal with

only aversion, really. but it wasn’t like you didn’t really talk about it

“i don’t really see the problem with it. look at everything else we do, that’s not exactly the jedi way” -you

“it’s dangerous” -cal

“love is dangerous?” -you

“attachment is” -cal

“i figured you already had attachments. we were all a crew before this” -you

“i let them all go” -cal

“and you’d let me go?” -you

you began constantly questioning these ways and trying to fight for a new future with cal, without pressing too hard

but it was hard to ignore those feelings and harder to constantly be denied by your old life

and it was harder when the new crew always teased you two

“come on, kestis. if you don’t, i will” -gabs

“yeah, just go for it. who’s it hurting?” -bravo

“i’m just not ready to go there” -cal

you were more bothered than you let on

but you always put the mission first

up until your trip back to coruscant

“this is just a reminder of how little it all matters now. there’s no one left.” -you

“that’s why it matters” -cal

the intensity of this mission made it so it was just the two of you again

and maybe that would spark something…but you doubted it

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 // @pheonixfire777 //

[corazondebeskar-reads]

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter four

ain't no rest for the wicked series

four: no telling what tomorrow holds

series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 5.9k

summary: Joel and Tess pay you surprise visits after work.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, stalking, threesome, light rope bondage, light choking with a belt, paddling, punishment, aftercare, strap-on, anal sex, rimming, light angst, orgasm denial, hurt/comfort, light description of a wound, flashbacks to outbreak day (reader), double penetration

This is the penultimate chapter.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t get any warning the next time. It’s not more than a week later, and when you step out into the dying sun, Joel’s waiting outside your office building.

You’re pissed, because when he croons, “Where you goin’, sunflower?” from behind you, your heart shoots about sixty feet into the sky.

“Cheese and fucking Christ, Joel!” You’re clutching your chest, but you can’t even pretend to be mad for more than a minute.

Not the way he’s smirking, something bright behind his gorgeous eyes. He looks fucking beautiful like this, bathed in amber, dark coat against the snow.

“I can just leave by myself,” he says.

But you break and smile. Goddamnit. It isn’t just your cunt that’s happy to see him.

Though it very much is. You’re a little concerned about icicles forming, the way you’re abruptly dripping at the prospect of an evening with them.

He can read it all over you. Of course he can. He shakes his head and pushes away from the wall, not bothering to swallow down the smug curl of his lips.

“They been treatin’ you alright?” He asks as you make the walk across town.

“Who, work? Yeah, I mean. A job’s a job.” You shrug.

He’s looking at you like he thinks he’s some kinda human lie detector.

“Nobody’s bothering me, I promise,” you say, rolling your eyes.

His jaw ticks. You don’t realize how close he’s leaned until he’s murmuring into your ear. “Watch the attitude, little girl.”

You swallow hard. He leans back, but you’re acutely aware now, that he’s stayed close the whole time. There’s not five feet between you as you scramble to follow. No, he’s been near enough that your shoulders occasionally brush.

Thinking about it makes your stomach feel a lot like your very first (and only) cellphone. It had slipped from your pocket into the lake up north when you crossed from the dock to the little motorboat, and you just watched as it sank slowly. By the time you thrust your hand below the surface to save it, it was too late, and the water you displaced pushed it deeper into the darkness.

Your daddy had been mad beyond words, not that it stopped him from lecturing, and while you sat there peering over the edge, it lit up with a call from your best friend, even underwater. It rang over and over and over until your dad started the boat, and the motor buried it in a puff of kicked-up sand.

She had been calling from back home, where you’d be in about six hours. You figured you’d stop by her dorm and see what her latest fuckboy from the neighboring floor had done now.

By the time your dad pulled up to campus, though, the world was half over. He didn’t let you out of the car, your brother holding you back while your daddy peeled away from the curb and the bodies.

He was gone by midnight.

When you blink back to the grimy streets of Boston, you can’t remember what you were thinking about before. Joel’s still looking at you, brow furrowed.

“Where’d you go?” he says.

“Oh, uh. I dunno. Just got lost in my head,” you try to smile and shrug. Silly you, as always, drifting off in the clouds.

He doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t push it.

When you get to the apartment, you’re startled to find Tess in an apron. As far as you know, Joel’s been the only one cooking when you came over. She spares you a kiss before she turns back to chopping carrots.

You kind of want to drop to your knees right there in the kitchen, watching her tuck back a loose strand of hair while brandishing a knife.

There might be something deeply unwell about you, you suspect. But it seems like the kind of thought that hampers your quality of life, so you scrunch it up and toss it in your mental waste bin. It bounces off the rim.

Damn. You can’t even make a basket in your own mind.

Joel smirks at the way you already look a little dazed. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs in your ear. His thumbs hook into the belt loops at the front of your jeans, tugging you back so you can feel him press against your ass. “We’re gonna have dessert first tonight.”

Tess snorts. “Been workin’ on that one all day?”

“Shut up, like you didn’t tell me to go pick up something sweet.”

You think maybe you’re going to die from secondhand embarrassment. “Can’t believe I used to be scared of you guys,” you say, foolishly, “you’re just a couple of dorks.”

Tess shakes her head, lip twitching into a smirk. “Baby, you just going to let her disrespect you like that?”

Oh, shit. If you weren’t wet already, well.

“Do whatever you want with her while I finish this up,” she says to Joel, meeting his eyes over your head.

Her words are anesthesia. Your whole brain seems to fuck right off, and it’s like you’ve been a mermaid turned human, the way your legs don’t seem to work anymore.

He lets go and steps around before throwing you over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to slap your ass.

“M’sorry,” you say, clawing at the back of his shirt for stability. Not that you really think he’d drop you, but all in all, you’re a little off-kilter right now.

“You will be,” he says.

It should scare you, you think. Despite your joke, outside of this apartment, these are two terrifying individuals. Together? Well, your initial tornado siren instinct wasn’t far off.

Instead, you moan.

He shakes his head. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“She said whatever you want.” You don’t have a clue where the boldness is coming from, but you think you like where it’s going.

“You got a mouth on you today. First thing is gonna be findin’ a better use for it.”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

He swings you down from his shoulder, and you sink straight down to your knees.

“Open,” he says, belt buckle jangling as he tugs it from the loops.

You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, but he doesn’t give you his cock yet. He grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, and spits onto your waiting tongue.

You startle back a little but moan and swallow it, only for his hand to fly out and slap you.

“I didn’t say you could swallow that,” he growls.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, eyes wide and sorrowful.

He leans back down and spits again. You hold still, and he gives you a crooked grin. “Attagirl. Hold that for a minute.”

You whine until he brings the belt around your neck, sliding it through the hoop on the buckle and pulling it snugly around your neck. It’s not too tight, and the sight of the loose end wrapped around his fist almost does you in.

“Yeah, you like that,” he says, shaking his head. He leaves you waiting while he pulls out his cock.

You whimper when you see it, but he tugs on the belt to abort the sound and rests his cock on your tongue, thrusting so shallow that he’s barely inside the cavern of your mouth.

When it’s nice and coated with your saliva and his own, he pulls out and slaps it across your face.

The moan you let out would be humiliating if you had it in you to care. But you don’t, only concerned with getting his cock back in your mouth.

You give him your best pleading eyes, wide and sad, with your mouth still open.

“Aw,” he coos, dry and mocking, “are you not getting what you want?”

You shake your head.

“Brats don’t.” He rubs the leaking head of his cock over your upper lip, smearing precum in his wake.

You move instinctually to lick it, but he pinches your tongue between two unforgiving fingers.

“I don’t think so. You’re just going to sit still and be good. And quiet."

If you thought Tess’s words made your mind go blank earlier, then this made you think nothing. Literally nothing. The weight of his belt around your neck, the smell of him on your lip, and the rigidity of his commands are all you can handle. Like the shutdown of your old, chunky computer, your brain whirrs to a stop.

He pulls you forward by the belt, cutting off your air and leaving no room for resistance. Not that you’d have even dreamt of it. He slides in farther this time, the head just grazing against the back of your throat.

You keep your eyes and mouth open wide. The pressure on your throat eases up, not entirely, but enough to allow you air. He begins to gently thrust in and out, reaching deeper and deeper.

You whine, jaw aching for more.

He smirks. “What? You don’t like me usin’ your mouth to jerk off?”

Your cunt clenches, with nothing, nothing to comfort it. It’s strong enough that your head tips back a little, a raggedy gasp slipping around him.

“Did you just almost cum?” he asks, tugging a little on the belt.

“Uh-huh,” you try to say.

He whistles. “Damn. Don’t you dare, though.”

Easier said than done, but you manage to hold back. His cock sent sparks to your clit as he masturbated with your throat.

The door clicks softly shut as Tess comes in, apron abandoned in place of a shit-eating grin. “Havin’ fun, baby?” she asks Joel, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking in the scene.

“Y’should have a go, use her tongue,” he says. “Fuckin’ slut almost came from bein’ used as a cocksleeve.”

You moan and try to grab his thighs, but he just steps back, pulling his cock away. The whine you make is soaked with desperation and hurt feelings.

“Why don’t you tie her up, and I’ll have a turn,” Tess says. She comes close to you, a hand in your hair to tip your head back. “Same rules, sunflower. You just stay still and be good.”

You can’t do much more than blink up at her as Joel crouches behind you and tugs your arms back, binding your wrists together deftly. He moves to help Tess strip down, his movements gentle and devout. Her neatly folded clothes get set on the dresser, and he sits on the side of the bed to watch, cock drooling over his fist.

She makes use of your mouth, rubbing her cunt over your tongue. You’ve stretched it out as much as you can and your chest aches with the need to lick, to taste, to have anything more than they’re allowing. But the ache to be good for them is deeper and undeniable.

She grinds until her clit is pushed against you and rides your steady tongue until she cums. You don’t dare swallow what’s left in your mouth, remembering the scolding you got earlier.

“Good girl,” she croons, stroking your cheek. She steps back, and you jerk a little with the intense throb that seems to rattle your bones. You’re so close, and you know what’s about to happen.

You whine and give Joel sad eyes again, begging for mercy. He doesn’t grant it, but he does rub his dick through Tess’s slick where it sits on your tongue, groaning at the warmth and ease as his cock slides smoothly into your throat, pushing the taste of her with it.

Each thrust makes you whimper and plead, not that he can technically understand you, but the grin on his face makes you think he does perfectly.

“Damn, I wasn’t gonna let ya, but makin’ you cum untouched like this…” he muses out loud.

You hold back the plea, not wanting to dissuade him.

He cups your cheek, stroking his thumb up and down. “Nah.”

Your eyes are wide again, unable to stop the pout that turns your lips down around his cock.

“None o’ that,” he scolds, using his hand on your face to fuck into you. “You mouthed off. You can wait to cum on our cocks.”

You can’t help the way your head snaps to the side to look at Tess, where she’s leisurely sprawled on the bed. His next thrust was already in motion, and his cock jabs you below the ear.

He growls and yanks your face back to him, pushing inside while pulling on the belt. Your clit pulses with the beat of your heart, or maybe the beat of his cock. As if they’re any different right now.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he says. “And now that I think about it…” he trails off to look at Tess. Out of the corner of her eye, you can see a responding grin creep across her face.

She gets up from the bed and comes over to you. “Let me have another go, and you get it all out for me, baby,” she says to Joel.

He pulls out immediately, and you can hear him rustling through a drawer while she rides your tongue to a second orgasm.

“Look how sweet you’re being,” she says, bending to kiss your forehead. The praise settles somewhere in your ribs, a warm, wriggling thing.

The cock he’s picked out is smaller than the one he took last time and smaller than his own, but not by much. If you weren’t already drooling, saliva dripping down onto your tits and their carpet, you would be now.

She slips the harness on with practiced fingers, vibrator tucked snugly inside her, though she doesn’t turn it on yet. When she sets the plastic on your waiting tongue, you gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

Instead of fucking your face with it, she gives a jerk of her head to Joel. He comes around behind you and puts a hand on either side of your face, fucking your head back and forth on the cock.

“That’s it, baby,” she moans, reaching out to caress him. He presses his lips to her hand, and she pulls him in for a kiss. He doesn’t miss a beat the whole time, still using you as a fleshlight for her strap.

It’s not his roughness that brings tears to your eyes, though, or jealousy. He’s not expecting it when you break away, his firm hands guiding more than forcing.

“Please,” you beg. “Please let me touch you.” You squirm in the ropes, knocking a tear down your cheek. “Please fuck me, please something.”

Tess wipes the tear away. “Think she’s had enough?”

Joel grunts his agreement, grabbing you by the arms to help you to your feet. He hands a bottle of lube to Tess, who situates herself on the bed, one hand slickening up the cock.

He stands behind you and holds your jaw in one hand, so you watch her, not that you’d be looking anywhere else. His other hand slides down to your cunt, and he chuckles. “Y’ain’t even gonna need it,” he tells her. He pushes two fingers in with little struggle and starts working you open for her.

You writhe. It’s almost too much; it hurts a little. Somehow, you’re overstimulated, and this is the first time all day that anyone has actually touched you.

“I know,” he murmurs. “You’ve been so good. Let us both get in ya, and I’ll let you cum.” 

He yanks his hand away, and you nearly sob. He unties your wrists and pulls his belt from your neck. “Go on,” he says, slapping your ass.

Tess grins at you as you climb up. She’s turned on the vibrator on her end and beckons you with open arms to crawl to her. You lean down, and she tugs you in for a kiss, her hands sliding to your hips to guide you down onto her strap.

“Can’t believe I haven’t fucked you yet,” she murmurs between kissing and nipping at your lips.

Your eyes roll back as you slide down, your pelvis angled just right so that when she bottoms out, you can grind your clit against her bush. She smirks but digs her fingers into your hips to stop you.

“Hold still and wait just a little bit longer,” she says.

Once you’re settled, Joel pushes you down by the shoulder to lay against Tess. It leaves you only partially seated, but you nuzzle into the nape of her neck, pressing kisses where you can reach.

It’s not a shock when his slicked-up fingers breach your asshole. You kind of assumed when he said they’d both be fucking you. He didn’t ask if you’ve done this before, though. He doesn’t really need to ask anymore.

You’re a little embarrassed that he’s got you pegged correctly as a slut. Before you came to Boston, you had fucked your way through the hard days, desperate to feel, well, anything.

But here, it had been harder. You made a point not to get to know anyone; it didn’t seem wise after everything fell apart before.

Then again, you think, they’re both experienced enough that they can hardly judge you for it.

You stop really thinking after that as Tess wraps her arms around you, gently thrusting up as Joel’s thick fingers work you open.

“Doing okay, sunflower?” she says.

You intend to respond, but Joel chooses that moment to stuff a second finger in you, and all that comes out is a broken, starving moan.

“Attagirl,” he says, rubbing his other hand over the dip of your spine.

When he finally deems you ready, he wastes no time.

“Oh god,” you pant as he pushes in with a strong, smooth stroke. “Oh fuck.”

They don’t really wait for you to get acclimated, not that you’re complaining. The back-and-forth rhythm is soothing, but you’re trembling, trying to keep it together.

True to his word, Joel slides his hand around and hovers his finger over your clit. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says. Blunt teeth nip at your neck as he presses firmly down, their thrusts jostling you and doing the work for him.

You cum immediately. It’s not a choice. You’d been barely holding on, and once he finally touches you, it’s like you break open. Vaguely, you’re aware of how loud you’re being, but he’s holding you tight and unrelenting. They both still and let you shake apart on their cocks, Joel’s dark chuckle against your neck as you fuck yourself through it.

You don’t think you fully come back to yourself the whole time they fuck you. You’re floating somewhere vaguely in the middle of the throng of bodies, lightheaded. Every pore feels electrified, each brush of their skin against yours drawing a gasp or cry. You know you cum again. Maybe you don’t ever really stop.

An endless wave of aftershocks, some orgasms in their own right, roll over you, and you just take it. Take them. Let them move and pinch and rub your body; just a soft vessel to soak up their attention.

When they’ve exhausted themselves and you, Joel spilling deep inside, he tugs you to the side to let Tess up. He lays behind you and tugs the sheet up as the sweat cools and leaves you shivering. His warm body presses against yours, an arm loose over your waist.

When Tess goes to leave the room, he sits up, but she’s not having it. “It’s my stew. Don’t even think about it.”

He grumbles, something you don’t catch as you fall asleep.

It feels like only a moment has passed when he shakes you awake. “Gotta sit up and eat somethin’,” he says. It’s gruff, as he always is, but there’s something that stirs you to seek him out. Instead of sitting up properly, you turn over to snuggle against his chest.

He huffs, shaking his head, but it doesn’t stop him from holding your head to him. He presses a kiss atop it before nudging you to sit up.

You can’t help the small, stupid smile that lingers. You’re too well-fucked, the pleasure still loosening your muscles and inhibitions.

Tess pushes a thick bowl of stew into your hands. You’re irritated at your own surprise. Why did you ever think it was going to be some normal canned Campbell’s shit? You literally saw her chopping fresh carrots.

It’s full of rice and tender meat, tomatoes, onion, and herbs. More than you can identify, but it’s so rich and hearty that you think you could die happy. All your senses are satisfied, and your stomach is full.

“Kill me now,” you sigh, leaning back against the pillows.

Joel and Tess exchange a look over you, but you don’t give a damn.

“Is something wrong?” she says.

“No,” you say, a soft smile settling as you close your eyes and nestle into their bed.

Joel shrugs, and they make the wise choice to ignore you while they finish eating. He wins the argument about who does the dishes, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean yourself up while he handles them.

You only try to argue once against them walking you home. You’re pretty sure everyone is aware of how half-hearted it is.

Tess jumpscares you a couple of weeks later. Well, nearly. You’ve been on high alert since the Surprise Joel Incident, but your heart gets lodged in your throat at the sight of her.

It’s so incongruous that you stand there for a moment, just blinking stupidly, hand shielding your eyes from where the sun bounces off the freshly frozen snow.

“Hey, sunflower,” she says, and kisses your cheek, leaving you flushing hot enough to melt the drifts in your path.

“Hi,” you squeak.

She doesn’t hold your hand on the walk, but she sticks close and guides you through throngs of people with a palm burning at the dip of your spine.

When you let slip your worry—not that you aren’t just as happy to see her, but that the change makes you paranoid—she fesses up to Joel’s current predicament.

She warns you, this time. “I promise it won’t be like then. I’m not gonna put you in that position again.”

You’re comforted a little, but it’s still an upsetting prospect. You don’t want to see him get punished. And she won’t tell you what he did, but she does tell you she knows you’re going to understand her point.

“Lay down over the bed next to him, sunflower, just like that.”

You obey, quietly settling your top half on the mattress beside him. He keeps his face buried in the duvet while you squirm around, trying to figure out what to do with your arms.

His are bound behind him. Should you mimic it? You tuck them under you, lay them by your sides, and clutch at the sheets above your head. Tess comes in the room and snorts at your fidgeting.

“Want some help with that?” She’s holding another length of rope, and you know it’s not a question.

“What’re you doin’ to her, Tess?” Joel grumbles, finally lifting his head. He doesn’t look at you, only at her.

Her hand cracks against his thigh before you realize she’s even moved close enough. “You wanna try that again?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, hiding back in the blanket.

“I can do whatever I want with her, right? She’s yours, and you’re mine. You know what that means, sunflower?”

You’re suddenly a little jealous of grapes, as you try to respond but only manage a squeaky whimper. Under the focus of the sun, they get to shrivel up and hide. Instead, you automatically turn to face her.

“Well?” She prompts, but she doesn’t wait for you to respond before tugging your arms behind your back and threading the rope around.

“It means I’m yours, too, ma’am.”

At your words, Joel is finally, finally looking at you, but unlike Tess, his attention scalds.

“That’s right.” She tugs at the rope to check the fit, and when she’s satisfied, she crouches down and spreads your cunt wide open.

You jerk a little as her cold fingers swipe between your folds. “She’s wet already, baby.”

You’re burning, one step closer to your new life dream of being a raisin, when you hear what is unmistakably Tess sucking her fingers clean of you. You moan and finally turn your head to seek out Joel.

He’s fuckin' sick and tired of you seeing him like this. But there’s a good part of him that knows he brought it on himself. If she thinks humiliating him in front of you is going to work, she’s probably right.

So far, though, you don’t seem to have lost any respect for him. When he finds your eyes, they’re soft and pleading. You don’t need to say a word; he knows you’re seeking the grasp of his firm hand.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he says.

You smile, but you don’t get to respond, distracted as Tess fists her hand in Joel’s hair and yanks back.

“You wanna tell her why you’re here like this instead of fucking her tight little cunt?”

Joel does not, but he’s not stupid. It wasn’t really a choice.

Tess tugs, sharp pain blossoming across his scalp, so he has to face you.

“I made a reckless decision.”

“And?” She prompts.

“And I nearly got shot.”

You suck in a breath but don’t look away. He, however, does—still facing you but eyes looking anywhere but.

“Nearly,” Tess scoffs. She tugs him to roll a little bit, and you see the bandage on his side, stained like rust.

“It grazed me. That’s nearly.”

She nudges him back into position but doesn’t let him turn away from you.

“Now you both get to see what happens when you do careless shit, baby. Don’t look away.” She pauses for a moment, taking something out of a dresser drawer. “And Joel?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Count for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He wants to close his eyes to brace for the hit, but you’re looking a little nervous. “S’ok, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I can take it.”

But when Tess swings the paddle down, it’s on you. They’ve never used it with you, you’re not any kind of prepared for the broad, heavy stroke. You cry out, something akin to a yelp and a gasp, jerking forward into the mattress.

“No,” Joel snarls, wriggling against the ropes.

Tess clicks her tongue. “Not what you’re supposed to be saying, baby. Let’s start over.”

You’re slightly more prepared when she hits you again. It’s not any softer but a little easier to bear.

“One,” he bites out.

She catches you by the hair when you subconsciously press your face into the bed. “You keep looking right at him, sunflower. He needs to see.”

He looks at you, brows cinched and eyes wide. His lips part, but the words don’t come out.

You nod, a small duck of your chin, and he closes his eyes for just a moment.

When he opens them, they’re lined with pain, his aching muscles taut as he grapples with guilt. He returns the nod.

She doesn’t go easy on you. No, you get exactly the punishment Joel would have gotten. By the time you’ve taken 25 (or, well, 26), you’re sobbing softly, squirming to try to alleviate the burn.

“See, baby?” Tess says, setting the paddle down and running her fingers over your hot, aching skin. “This is what happens when you’re reckless. Someone gets hurt.”

Of course. No lesson in the world could make Joel more careful with himself for his own sake.

She cuts his ropes first, and he’s on you immediately, tugging the knot so you’re freed and pulling you into his lap.

He holds you against him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you sob into his chest. “I’m so sorry.” He lets you cling to him while you cry, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. He steadies you in a way you can’t explain. So does Tess.

It takes you a long time to recognize that feeling as safety.

At some point, Tess hands him something out of your line of sight. He reaches around you to unscrew the lid from the tub, and you jolt when his fingers move to the raw skin on your ass, but whatever he rubs on it instantly cools the burn.

You let out a sigh, leaning lax against him.

“You okay?” Tess murmurs, a hand on your shoulder.

You blink up at her and nod. “M’okay.” You crane your neck to kiss her hand, and she smiles.

Her other hand threads into Joel’s hair, gently this time. She gives him a kiss there. “Learn your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, voice like a knife on toast.

“Good. You were both so good.”

It’s the final string for you, the snap of the last tether. You mumble what you think is a thank you, but it comes out undecipherable. She gets the idea anyway.

Everything is warm and heady, your limbs like silicone, but your mind like a sieve. You’re wet enough that Joel can feel the heat where your bare cunt lays across his bare lap.

He dips a finger in and strokes gently through your folds. “Gonna make you feel better,” he says, laying you down on the duvet. You keen, fingers reaching for him, but Tess catches them and kisses you, kneeling beside you on the mattress.

“Hang on,” she says as Joel gets to his knees on the carpet. “Lay down,” she tells him, gesturing to where he’s frozen.

He obeys, and she tugs you forward to the edge of the bed.

“Sit on his face, sunflower,” she says.

Joel groans and reaches his hands up to help you down, but you hesitate.

“I—” you start, but she sees right through you.

“If you haven’t figured it out by now, he likes eating pussy.”

“Fuckin' love it,” Joel says, fist clenching around his cock while he waits.

“I don’t wanna be ungrateful,” you say to the wall behind him.

“You wanna get fucked?” she says.

You nod.

“You can ride him first if you want. Or you can start on his face, and then we’ll switch.”

“No,” Joel says, and you both look at him.

“Get down here and give me your cunt, now.”

You look at Tess, and she shrugs.

Knowing you’ll still get his cock makes you care a lot less what order it comes in—you snort out loud at the pun—so you do as you’re told. He settles you down and doesn’t wait for Tess; he just starts licking you—almost too gently.

You don’t complain. It feels good, and you think he’s still apologizing.

Once Tess helps herself to his cock, she reaches for you and takes your face in the cradle of her palms, licking into your mouth.

It’s all slow and luxurious. Dangerously so. You and Tess are content to make out while she rides him, a gentle cant to her hips, and he holds you open with both hands to eat you out. He’s careful to avoid the irritated skin on your ass, prying at the inside of your thighs instead.

You don’t know how many times he takes you apart on his tongue, but when it crosses the line between just enough and a little too much, Tess lifts off his aching cock and taps you in to switch.

As nice as his mouth was, sinking down on his cock is fucking divine. Life changing. You could start a church.

Well, not quite, but anyway. The point is your cunt had been painfully empty, and now that it’s stuffed full, you think you might cry.

Instead, you go back to making out with Tess and groping her tits.

She lets him cum when she does, after you’ve both had your fill. She holds you down on him and rubs your clit so you all share an orgasm.

She stands up on trembling legs and tugs you to do the same, even though you really want to just collapse on the floor.

Joel’s moved to the bed when you come out of the bathroom, dozing in the slice of streetlight from the window. Tess is nowhere to be seen. You’re still feeling a little fuzzy and dazed, but you take your cue and slip out of the bedroom to get your things.

“Hey,” Tess’s voice cuts through your haze.

You stop where you stand, bag over one shoulder, leaning against the door with one boot tugged just past the toes.

“Do me a favor? Stay here tonight,” she says.

“What?” Your heart stutters. It’s never been an option before.

“Stay. I know I was harsh on ya. Both of ya.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. Your body betrays you, as always. Fuckin’ narc. Your hands are shaking and it rattles the zipper of your boot like an SOS.

She steps closer and cups your face in one hand.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of her calloused palm.

“C’mon, sunflower. Let me look out for you. Please.”

“Okay,” you whisper, pressing your lips to her hand.

She pulls you in, and when her lips meet yours, you moan softly. It’s less from your cunt than from your aching chest. She pulls you close, tucking your head to her shoulder, and you snuggle in, arms tucked up around her back.

It ends all too soon.

“Be good and go cuddle up to him, alright? Keep my spot warm,” Tess says, patting your cheek.

You nod, brain fuzzed over with the siren song of sleep.

Joel startles when you slip back into the room.

“Is this okay?” you say.

He blinks up at you with sore eyes and nods, peeling back the duvet for you.

You strip down. No one had said to, but you don’t feel right being clothed when he isn’t.

When you’re pressed against his warm body, he wraps an arm around you, and you sigh in tandem.

When you wake, the room is silent save for the light breaths of your companions. Moonlight refracts off the fresh banks of snow and scatters through the blinds. The city holds its breath and waits for the sun.

You lie as quiet as the streets. At some point, despite her quip about warming her spot, Tess slipped into the bed behind Joel. Her arm is snug around his waist in the way that his is around yours.

The moment is not lost on you. These two predators in symbiosis, lax and peaceful. You’re ever the ensnared dinner guest. Their places here are natural, and you… you’re scared. Scared of the way your heart is fighting to escape its cage and lay itself on their plates.

You either have to let it, or you have to run.

Joel wakes when you try to extract yourself from the bed, but he relaxes his grasp when you whisper something about the bathroom. He kisses the nape of your neck and lets you free. It’s not a lie, really. You do use their bathroom, and then you turn the light off and wait until you think he’s fully asleep again before you slip out.

It’s a longer trek home, what with having to sneak around. You’ve never been out past curfew before, and you really, really do not want to know what lockup is like.

But you don’t see much of FEDRA, and before long, you’re nearly outside your apartment building.

It wasn’t FEDRA you should have been looking out for, though.

next chapter

*title from "Duality" by Bayside

pls feel free to tell me how you feel 😬

[heller-castiel]

🥳🥳It’s my birthday!🥳🥳

celebrate by reading some of my old fics

Bobby Day - Sam and Dean don’t have a mom to celebrate on Mother’s Day - they just have a Bobby.

This’ll Be The Day That I Die - “They had this song, before they got married, that they loved. Cheek to Cheek, you know? And they’d look so damn sad when it’d play on the record, even though he asked her to marry her to that fuckin’ song. Had to tell Sammy to stop playing that record cause they hated to be reminded of their marriage so much.” Dean swallowed. “Hell, the song feels more like a funeral march than anything else after a childhood of that. Promise me? Promise me we won’t be like that? Together and hating each other for it?”

Castiel took in a mouthful of smoke and lied. “I promise.”

Or: The American Pie (by Don McLean) fic

Holy Palmers’ Bloody Kiss - It’s nice, getting to take care of his family, getting to heal his family. Dean’s always been looking out for everyone else, was raised for it, bred for it even, and he’s made his peace with that. Held his baby brother in his arms and he knew what he was made for, going to sleep in beige hotel rooms stained in dark browns and reds with a baby in one hand and a revolver in the other.

He’s never gotten to offer healing, saving, before. It’s the first time since he was a kid that looking out for family didn’t mean guns and death and revenge.

Goodnight, Moon - Cas shifts in his arms, turning to face Dean, and just as Cas wants to hold him, Dean is ready to be held in return. Their left arms reach across their chests where they are pressed together, and they do not clasp hands but rest the backs of them against each other, and Dean’s right arm falls to rest on Cas’s hip just as Cas’s right falls to Dean’s hip, and together they let their foreheads rest on each other’s.

Or, Cas has insomnia sometimes. Dean brings him back to bed.

You Can Start to Make it Better (Beautiful Beautiful Boy) - Dean goes to bed with Cas on the night Jack's finally ready to reform heaven and give up his Godly powers; but before he does, he pulls Dean into heaven to bring someone back, one last time.

Or: Dean Winchester works through his mommy issues with some heavenly therapy.

if you ran away, just come home - Dean wandered, after. The night that Chuck died, subsumed into Amara, he had silently climbed into his car in the dead of night, walking past Jack's room, past Sam's room.

In his room, Sam laid in his bed with Eileen, and felt the air displace itself around where Dean slipped past in the hallway, instincts attuning him to movement just as they made Dean move soundlessly, without a thought to it. but Dean didn’t think of that. Dean only thought of moving, getting out, going -

Going to something the bunker couldn’t be, anymore. Something he couldn’t ever go to.

But he had to go.

[sleepyjuice-juice]

//TBHK 114 SPOILERS

okay okay imagine

this is kou's perfect tl, right? His family is together, his mom is alive, and not only is Sousuke alive and well, but they are close. First name basis. Sousuke knows that Kou is an exorcist even though he keeps that a secret from his other living friends, Yokoo and Satou. They share some sort of exclusive relationship.

And then... Nene, Akane, possibly Teru (Teru is a wildcard atp - Minamoto mom in the mix complicates his motives), possibly others are trying to revert the timeline, back to the one where absolutely nothing is working out for him. Dysfunctional family, loved ones dying, weight of the world on his shoulders all over again.

I mean, one part of this to analyze is how this affects Kou's character development. In the og tl, he's in a very tough spot in his character development, in which he still feels responsible for everyone else's happiness, always putting others first, always at his own expense. He feels weak and unreliable, but holds himself to such a high standard, because otherwise he doesn't know how to hope. He's barely voiced his insecurities to anyone, besides Mitsuba, and also Teru when they fought during the severance arc.

We don't know how much Kou remembers now, nor the rate he'll remember things, nor how adjusted he really is to this new tl. Because Nene, even though she initially struggled to remember the old tl, she also was foggy on some details about the current tl. And Kou set a table for three instead of 5. So, the question this begs is how displaced is Kou's memory atp?

Alright. Moving on. Depending on these factors... how is his development affected by this? He is in an environment that is fulfilling for him in every way, but it is being threatened to be taken away by people he may or may not remember (doesn't remember Nene yet, status with Akane not confirmed, Teru's motives still in question)

And even if he does remember, how will he react? He has everything he's ever wanted, and it's real this time, unlike in picture perfect. Will he finally put his own wishes first, or will he relinquish a life that's better for him, his family, Sousuke, and so many more? And would that really be selfish of him to decide, if this timeline is objectively healthier?

It's suggested that one of the Yugi twins even grew up to be one of Tsuchigomori's colleagues, likely Amane. If he thought about it, Kou could argue that if Nene loves Hanako/Amane, she would choose the world that he got to grow up in instead of the one where he dies prematurely. It's even hinted that Aoi still likes Akane despite her engagement to Teru, so, logically he'd have a really good argument against everyone opposing the new tl, right?

But... it's not his story. We know he's more than likely going to have to lose this life. Lose his loved ones all over again

And of course... to choose Sousuke Mitsuba, he has to unchoose Mitsuba No. 3. Which is another ooooof biiiig storm coming

It's gonna hurt me, I know. I'm just SO goddamn invested in how this is going to play out

[slashmeharderdaddy]

HOMECOMING

SUMMARY: Art really missed Mal while she was out of town.

Face-fucking, oral (M receiving, F receiving)

NOTE: I’m in the middle of writing a novella and I did copy + paste some of this into a scene in my novella.

Mallory staggered in through the door and dropped her backpack on the hardwood with a dull thud. She was too tired to care that her Switch was in there; she’d worry about it later. Stretching her hands to the ceiling, she let out a yawn. Her back popped and she smiled. Mal was stiff all over from the flight, not to mention jet-lagged from the time difference. It could be worse, though; the jet-lag she’d suffered from last year’s trip overseas had left her with a churning stomach for a few days.

Mal flopped down on the deep green loveseat. Her eyelids had been heavy the whole way home, and she’d worried that she was going to fall asleep in the Uber.

BANG. BANG BANG.

Mal jolted upright. Her heart gave a flutter that she was still getting used to. Leaping to her feet, she darted back to the door and unlocked it before her visitor could knock it off its hinges. She knew he was fully capable of that; he was capable of a lot of things.

The door swung open to reveal a gaunt, white-faced clown with a black top-hat, a black and white jumpsuit, and oversized black shoes. His dark eyes glittered dangerously even as a smile stretched across his face. His expressions were always jarring, thanks to the black makeup that ringed his mouth and eyes, and the drawn-on black brows. Mal gulped. She knew having the Miles County Clown was a risk to her life, and more than once she’d wondered if she’d wake up the next morning once she told him she was going out of town. She didn’t think it would matter to him that she was returning.

Perhaps that’s why she’d brought him back a souvenir—not as a gift, but as a bribe.

Perhaps this’ll be my last night alive, Mal thought, her mind fuzzy from exhaustion. She smirked at the thought. At least I won’t have to unpack.

“I got you something,” Mal said before Art could do anything.

His eyes widened and his mouth formed a black O as he gestured to himself. Mal giggled. She still found it odd that someone as brutal as Art could make her giggle.

“Yeah. Hold on.”

Mal grabbed her backpack off the floor. It was checkered black and white—something she hadn’t even noticed until the cashier was handing her the receipt. Perhaps she’d been thinking of him without even realizing it when she bought it.

The plush moose keychain was stuffed in a side pocket. In a way, Art reminded her of mooses: goofy-looking at first glance, but they’d absolutely fuck you up. She didn’t know if he’d had anything to hang it from, but maybe the plush would be enough.

Art’s hands fluttered in the air on both sides of his face, and he flashed Mal another wide grin. He stuck his thumbs to the sides of his head, careful not to displace the artful tilt of his hat.

“No, I didn’t actually see any in the wild,” Mal laughed.

Art held his hands palm-up and tilted his head from side to side.

Maybe next time, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She was lucky Art was fine with her flying to Vancouver…that she knew of. There was a silent understanding between the two that she was his, and the past two weeks would have given him ample time to make sure she never left Miles County again.

Art snatched up the plush keychain and grinned his Cheshire Cat grin. Mal couldn’t help but feel relieved as she watched him mime a conversation with the moose. Silently giggling, Art booped Mal on the nose with the moose’s snout.

Again her heart fluttered. This was nothing but a game to him—a long con to get her nice and comfortable before he struck. She had to remember that.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could get you something to eat—“ Mallory said, stepping aside to let Art through before he barreled past her anyway. He paused on his way and turned to stare at her.

A chill ran down Mal’s spine. She knew full well the man was a cannibal. His blood-smeared lips on the night they’d met had made that perfectly clear.

After a moment he shook his head. Mal let out a breath.

He took a step forward. She sucked that breath back in.

Art threw his arms around her, knocking her off-balance for a second. Though he was much taller than her, he nuzzled against her stomach. His shoulders rose and fell, the violent clown breathing in her scent. Mal couldn’t help but smile.

“You really missed me, huh?”

In an instant he had her thrown over his shoulder, long strides carrying them both to the couch. She bit back a scream as he threw her down. This was it. This is what she had been waiting for with a sick dread curling in her stomach.

Art towered over her, a gleam in his half-lidded eyes. It was impossible to know what was going on inside his head. Again he stared down at her, considering. Reaching out a hand, he trailed his fingertips down her cheeks. It took every ounce of self-restraint for Mal not to shudder. Yet she leaned into his touch, craving the very entity she feared. Her lips brushed a kiss against his fingers.

Art withdrew his hand. A second later he was crouching between her legs, hands planted firmly on her knees. He had eaten her out before, but that still didn’t give her any power over him. He was a cannibal, and this was just one of many positions that gave him full access to her body.

There was his tongue, and the occasional scrape of his teeth—a warning, Mal knew, of what he was capable of. The temptation he was fighting. But the risk gave her a sick thrill. She’d known ever since whatever they had began how it would end: her blood on his hands, her guts spilled across the floor. Torn to shreds like every other victim. She worked to keep his interest. In the rare moments when she knew she was truly alone, she wrote out her will. The final line was an apology to her loved ones and the loved ones of his victims. An acknowledgement that she got the ending she deserved.

Mal gasped, her back arching. She bucked her hips against Art’s expert tongue. She still had no idea where he learned it, but knowing what he did, she knew it was better that way. One hand gripped his shoulder, while the other groped along his back. Her fingers curled around the folds of his suit.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. She knew from the familiar crinkle at their edges that a smug grin was stretching across his face. Mal smiled back.

Art reached behind him. Mal’s stomach tightened. She braced herself for what was to come, her eyes never leaving his. If he was to kill her, then she would look him in the eye while he did it.

Zzzziiiip.

Art’s jumpsuit pooled around his ankles. He was slender, wiry, but strong despite his slight build. There was a dusting of dark hair at his chest. A dark happy trail started just below his belly-button, fanning out around the base of his long, slender cock. Again, Mal let out a breath.

His fingers curled around her throat, yanking her off the couch to kneel before him. Eyes glued to his, she leaned forward. Art watched her as she wrapped her fingers around his thighs and nuzzled the tip of his cock. His chest hitched. A bead of precum formed at the tip. Mal lapped it up, slowly trailing her tongue along the slit. Art’s cock twitched. He dug his hand into her hair. She hissed at the tightness of his grip.

She took his cock into her mouth, slowly bobbing her head up and down. Her movements were achingly slow; she wasn’t sure what Art thought about it, but he still let her tease him a little. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he would grab her face and fuck it, jackhammering into the back of her throat. She swallowed every time.

But now, she pulled back, releasing the head with a pop.

“I’m glad to be home,” she said softly. Art lifted a brow. The movement was almost imperceptible—his real brows were painted white, like the rest of his face. “I missed you.”

The clown’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp. Still, he smirked down at her. One hand lifted to give the side of her face an approving pat.

“I thought about you every night.” Mal buried a hand between her thighs. Now both of Art’s brows rose.

Her tongue ran along Art’s cock and she moaned. Art shuddered in delight. Gazing up at him, Mal swallowed his cock, fighting the urge to gag. Art loved being balls-deep in her mouth. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her choke on his cock just yet.

His grip tightened on her. He was getting impatient. Not wanting to test her luck with him any longer, Mal picked up her pace. One hand fondled his balls while the other ran along his length. When she looked up at him next, his head was thrown back, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy.

Art’s hips bucked against her. Her throat convulsed with a gag. He glanced back down at her, grinning as he ran his palm along her cheek.

Yes. Just like that, the gesture seemed to say.

Mal smiled around his cock. Art thrust into her again. She grabbed his thighs, bracing herself for what was to come. The first time she had done this, she’d squeezed her eyes shut, only to have Art slap her cheek. He wanted her to look at him when he fucked her face.

She remembered this now. As his hips snapped back and forth, she held his thighs in an iron grip, keeping her eyes on his. Art’s eyes were impossibly black, impossibly cold, yet when they held her she felt warm all over.

Mal’s throat spasmed. She dug her nails into his flesh, fighting the urge to gag. Drool ran down her chin, coating her chest. She knew he loved to see her like that.

Art’s pace quickened, grew sloppy. He huffed above her as he grew closer and closer to the tipping point. His fingers tangled in her hair, so tight as to send a jolt of pain through her scalp. And this time, she did gag, and a sadistic smile spread across Art’s face. Mal moaned around his cock.

One thrust. Two. Three. Mal choked as his cum spurted into her and coated her throat. Art thrust into her mouth again. This time he pressed his cock deep into her throat, burying her nose in his crotch. Mal was sure she was going to suffocate. Just when she was sure she was on the edge of passing out, Art pulled out, cupping her chin with an odd, detached tenderness.

Mal panted, still gazing up into his cold dark eyes. She beheld him with an adoration she never knew she could feel for anyone. Her grip on his thighs loosened. Art tugged on her chin, ordering her to stand, and she did. His hold on her was like a vise as he devoured her with another kiss.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 14

I really loved the title page showing how Marcille does her hair. If my hair was long enough to do it, I'd try it myself. My favorite part is the braid around her ears.

Her actual hairstyle this chapter isn't the same as the title page though. Instead, she keeps the side braids but wraps her long hair into a large loop ending in a ponytail.

I love these little beat panels. The party is so prone to awkward silences and it's always funny whenever it happens. All of them try very hard to be polite but no one ever knows what to say when they know being honest would upset someone.

We've got some info on magic. It requires the user to take care of their hair. And poor grooming can affect how well support magic can work on a person.

Senshi ought to engage in proper grooming to at least make sure hair doesn't get into the food.

There is some light environmental storytelling about the first expeditions to 4F. By the looks of things, the first people to reach 4F had to smash the walls open to actually access the level. Then builders had to come in to build platforms for adventurers to actually be able to enter the floor.

I get the feeling the upper level was either opened first or had to be made so builders could safely haul and drop the walkways into the water.

Since Senshi doesn't have any means of crossing the water, this is probably the furthest he's ever gone down the dungeon.

All his earlier instances of deriding Marcille's magic had some merit to them, but now Senshi is just being a stubborn old goat. Even if his concern about relying on magic too much will harm his ability to act without it being available, the waterwalking skill is a practical solution to the situation at hand.

He's acting like that employee who's worked at the company for thirty years and takes several hours to fill out a spreadsheet because they don't know how to use any of the calculating tools. Then they stubbornly refuse to let you show them how to fill it quickly cause it's the way they've always done it.

The way Marcille applied waterwalking to Senshi implies that the part where she taps her feet was just performative. As long as she hits you with her staff, the spell is applied.

Senshi didn't immediately sink so the spell works somewhat. I guess the waterwalking spell is less "You can now stand on water" and more "the rate at which your body displaces the water beneath your feet is reduced."

I hated physics but I kind of want to go back through topics related to density, waves, buoyancy, and kinetic energy because of this moment. Real quick, buoyancy is the force that fluids exert in opposition to the gravitational force of an object in it. If buoyancy is stronger than the gravitational force, the object will float over the fluid. If gravity is stronger, the object will sink. There's more to it of course, but I think this is enough background for my upcoming ramble.

When Marcille jumped into the water, there was a tiny splish and some ripples formed around the point of contact. So she made physical contact with the water, but her spell prevented the kinetic energy that would transfer to the water on contact from dispersing the water to any degree that would cause her to fall into it. So the gravitational force she's exerting on the water is so low that she can stand on the water.

I know this is one of those "It's magic. Don't worry about it" moments, but I'd love to consider alternate uses for this spell considering what it appears to be doing. If the spell actually reduces density or weakens the gravitational force that acts against bouyancy, could a sinking ship be saved by applying this spell to it or a sunken ship be raised using it? And can it be used with other liquids? Could a variant be made that can let a person float in the air (This would have to be made with caution cause if it works the way I'm describing, it could easily catapult someone into the stratosphere).

Of all people to oppose Senshi's idea of riding a Kelpie across the water, you'd never suspect Laios. He's the one who comes across as the most likely to want to befriend monsters. But it turns out that he has far more sense about things.

Yes, Laios loves monsters. However, he isn't blind to the reality of what they are. In chapter 8, Senshi talked about the care that goes into living in the dungeon and feeling like you're part of it, but he's overstepping his bounds with Anne. By assuming he can tame and ride her, he's not respecting that she is a dangerous creature that should be treated as such.

The initial interaction with Anne reminded me of a Youtube video of a guy sitting by a river and a grizzly bear casually walks up to him and sits next to him. The bear was docile and the guy wasn't in any danger, yes. But it would be a bad idea to walk up to the bear or try to pet it. And the guy in the video was definitely afraid during that interaction because he was sitting next to a grizzly bear.

Laios also seems to be speaking from experience.

The first hint that Anne wasn't as sweet as she seemed is she chewed on Senshi's blood-soaked beard.

Laios saw what was going to happen from a mile away and lassoed Anne's tail just before she submerged. He even looks like he's saying "I told you!" when Anne begins to descend.

After killing her, Senshi decided to prepare Anne's body to eat it. He's not very emotive, but he's genuinely upset that the bond he thought he had didn't exist. He sees himself as part of the dungeon, but even though he helps take care of it, that doesn't mean the monsters are going to treat him as anything other than potential prey.

Maybe he started to realize that he hadn't given her the proper respect she deserves as a dangerous kelpie. Eating her is a way to give respect though. He's not going to leave her body to rot. If he's going to be part of the dungeon, then he should participate in its ecosystem. His eagerness to use the soap Marcille made from Anne's fat might be an extension to that respect.

Marcille knows how to make soap from scratch. Since hygiene and grooming are important parts of magic, she probably was taught how to make use of what's available.

Oh my gosh! He's so fluffy!!

Senshi's stubbornness and insistence on doing things his own way almost got him killed. At least he's willing to be more flexible now. And he's noticing there are some enjoyable experiences that require magic.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back