#i had this line as an idea and RAN with it

[meadowfics]

cryptic

kang dae-ho x f!reader

one of the scariest things happens to you after leaving the games

warnings: cryptic pregnancy, near death, at the time I am writing this season 3 is not out yet, angst, comfort at the end

when you entered the squid games, the last person you expected to see was dae-ho.

your heart nearly stopped when you spotted him in the crowd for the six-legged pentathlon.

you had to take a double take before starting the race with your group..

yup, there he was...broad shoulders, haunted eyes, and that same furrow in his brow you used to know so well.

he froze when he saw you up there ready to play with your own group, his lips parting in disbelief, but the guards didn’t give either of you time to process it.

the game began, and survival instincts took over.

you had the fastest group, luckily.

you completed the jegi game and ran to the finish line as everyone cheered for your group.

however, your ears tuned out everyone except for dae-ho, who made sure that you witnessed his support.

waiting for his group to come back to the dorms was torture for you.

its been nearly six-months since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend.. however, you still loved him.

he broke up with you, and you had an idea as to why.

he felt like you deserved better, in terms of finding someone who had a bit more masculinity.

you never wanted that, or anyone else.. you always wanted your dae-ho.

a glimpse of relief was caught in your eyes when his group, the last group, entered the dorms.

he spotted you and gave you a light smile, before he turned away, retreating back to his group.

you wanted to talk to him, but what could you possibly say?

throughout the night, the exhaustion that settled over you wasn’t just from the constant fear of death but from the hunger you couldn’t shake away.

those pitiful trays of food barely sustained you, and your body craved more.

you kept with your group you had in the six-legged pentathlon..

when someone in your group couldn’t stomach their meal, you always took it, masking your desperation with a lighthearted

“don’t want it to go to waste.”

deep down, you hated that you were lying, but survival had its price.

dae-ho was always watching you, even when you weren’t aware of it.

he kept his distance, knowing how complicated things were between you two, but his protective instincts never faltered.

when you almost stumbled into danger during one of the nightly fights that broke out.. he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he pulled you to safety underneath his bunk before you could get hurt.

dae-ho didn’t say much, just a light, “stay alert, don't play any heroics,” before disappearing again.

the rebellion with the guards was a turning point.

the chaos had triggered dae-ho’s ptsd, and he was trembling, muttering under his breath about orders and mistakes.

when you witnessed him dropping the jacket full of gun magazines, you jumped up from your bunk bed to jog over to him.

007 nearly did too, but you stopped him.

"I got it.. ju- just stay with your mother."

approaching dae-ho, it broke your heart to see him like that because it reminded you why he left you in the first place.

the reason for the breakup is because he thought his brokenness from the marines would be too much for you to handle.

he pushed you away before you even knew how to help.

this time, you refused to let him spiral alone.

“dae-ho, look at me,” you said softly.

you tapped on his knee while rubbing his elbow softly, some physical reassurance while his ears were blocked by his strong hands.

“you’re not in the marines right now. you’re here, on this bed.. with me..."

you mumbled...

the man flinched hearing you, which caused you to nearly flinch as well.

did he think that you were going to hit him??

"we’re going to get through this, but you need to come back to me, okay?”

it took a long moment, even after hyun-ju came back, but your voice reached him.

after a while, his breathing steadied.

the next games were brutal. human chess left you rattled, knowing how easily a single wrong move would’ve ended you.

during the monkey bars game, you thought you were done for. every muscle in your body screamed, and it felt like your arms were going to give out at any second.

as a teenager, you had superior upper body strength.. whats so different now?

your arms were shaking for those last few bars, but at least you are alive.

when you collapsed on the other side, you were still shaking.

dae-ho was there in an instant, crouching beside you and muttering something you barely caught.

“its okay, you're okay, you made it. I'm here,"

it was a miracle that both you and dae-ho made it to the end.

his group—jun-hee, myung-gi, hyun-ju, and gi-hun—were all battered but alive.

you were the sole survivor from your group, most of them dying during dongdaemun.. and the weight of that loss lingered heavy in your chest.

when the games finally ended, and the guards began preparing to release you, dae-ho pulled you aside. his hands were rough but gentle as they grasped yours, his voice low and urgent.

“i didn’t think i’d survive this, let alone see you again. but we did, and i… i want to fix things. if you’ll let me.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you knew there was no denying the truth anymore. despite everything, you still loved him. you missed him. you wanted him back in your life.

“okay, we can fix this--”

you said softly, your voice cracking.

"but dae-ho.... why did you leave?"

you nearly cried, thinking about the last time you saw dae-ho before now.

the way he left your apartment, the way you could not eat for days, you wanted to make sure that something like that did not occur again with him.

"it was not you, like I said-- I thought you deserved better than me.. someone who was stronger than me."

the man frowned.

you placed your hand on his strong bicep, just on top of his marine tattoo.. your other hand went to his face.

"dae-ho, you're the strongest man I know. even if that wasn't the case, I do not want anyone else.. ever! I just want you."

you say.

at this point, the guards start taking everyone away to go back home.

“meet me at our cafe spot in seoul on november 16th!!!"

the last thing you remembered was the sound of his voice before the guards released the gas that knocked you out.

the impact of hitting the pavement still lingered in your body as you woke up, tied up, and blindfolded.

the cold concrete under you only added to the disorientation, and your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

all you could see is black.

then, a voice...soft and filled with concern...called out.

“oh my god, are you okay? hold on, let me help you.”

the blindfold was pulled away, and you blinked against the sudden light.

the woman in front of you had a kind face, her brows furrowed in worry as she quickly untied the ropes around your wrists.

“who did this to you?”

“i…” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“thank you. i don’t even know.”

"do you want me to call the police for you?"

"oh no, its okay do not worry about that!"

she helped you sit up, her hands hovering as if afraid you might collapse again.

“what’s your name?”

your mind raced, but you dodged the question.

“what’s today’s date?”

her expression shifted to confusion.

“it’s november 7th.”

november 7th. you exhaled deeply, relief and anxiety warring within you. nine days until november 16th.

nine days until you’d see dae-ho again. far too long, but at least you knew where to be.

time in the games had been meaningless, stretched and warped in the absence of phones and clocks.

as you stood up, you glanced down at yourself.

your old clothes were back...a black windbreaker jacket, green cargo pants, a black shirt, and your worn out adidas sambas.

it was strange to be out of the green tracksuit you had grown accustomed to, the one that labeled you as player 399.

instinctively, you reached into your pockets and felt something solid.

pulling it out, you saw a golden debit card. you stared at it, baffled, knowing it hadn’t been yours before the games. with shaking hands, you excused yourself.

“okay.. well i’m fine, really. thank you for helping me. i just… i need a moment.”

the woman hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving you alone.

“are you sure? you don’t look fine.”

“i’ll be okay,” you insisted, forcing a smile.

“thank you again.”

only six steps away, an atm caught your eye. you slid the card into the machine, your hands trembling.

the screen loaded, and when the balance appeared, your breath hitched. 11,398,890,025.33 won.

its the money you won in the games, split between the survivors..

before you could process the shock, a sharp pain shot through your stomach.

it felt like a punch, but there was no one there.

the pain grew worse, twisting and radiating until you doubled over.

“ahhh!” you yelped, clutching your stomach as the cramps intensified.

your knees buckled, and you collapsed, gasping for air while clenching your teeth.

the woman hadn’t gone far and came running back at the sound of your cries.

“hey! what’s wrong? oh my god, are you okay?!”

she knelt beside you, her panic rising as she saw the state you were in.

“i don’t know,” you choked out, tears welling up as the pain overwhelmed you.

“it hurts—my stomach—”

“okay, okay, stay with me. breathe! i’m calling an ambulance.” she pulled out her phone, her voice trembling as she gave the dispatcher your location.

“hang in there, okay? help is on the way.”

the pain was unbearable, and your vision blurred, the edges going dark as you struggled to stay conscious.

the faint sound of the woman’s voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens were the last things you heard before everything went black.

waking up, you felt a strange tightness around your stomach and a dull ache in your body.

the beeping of machines surrounded you, and cords were attached to your belly. you blinked, your heart racing as you noticed an iv in your arm.

panic set in when you realized your clothes were gone.

sitting up too fast, you scanned the room. relief washed over you when you spotted your jacket draped over a chair.

the golden debit card was still tucked in its pocket. you exhaled shakily, clutching the fabric for reassurance.

the door creaked open, and a doctor entered..a woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

“hello! I love to see that you’re awake. that’s good,” she said gently.

“please, lay back down. you need to rest.”

reluctantly, you complied, your mind still racing.

“what happened? why am i here?”

the doctor grabbed a clipboard, jotting something down before meeting your eyes.

“i need to ask you a few questions first by obligation... how have you been feeling lately? any nausea, fatigue, or changes in appetite?”

you frowned, her questions making no sense.

“i don’t know… i thought it was just stress. why are you asking me this?”

her expression softened, and she set the clipboard aside.

“miss. l/n… you’re in labor.”

the words hit you like a freight train.

“what?!” you gasped, sitting up again, ignoring the ache in your body.

your hands instinctively flew to your stomach.

“that’s not possible. i didn’t even know i was… i mean… i can’t be pregnant!”

the doctor gave you a reassuring look.

“your bloodwork confirms it, and you’re already in active labor. you didn’t notice the signs?”

you stared at her, your mind spiraling. sure, you had a small bump, but you chalked it up to overeating during the games.

you never connected it to something like this.

“you’re 36 weeks along,” she continued gently.

“it’s a bit early, but your baby seems strong. we’ll monitor you both closely since you haven’t had prenatal care. it’s a girl, by the way.”

the revelation stole the air from your lungs. a girl. you were carrying a child...a child you hadn’t even known existed.

your heart pounded as reality crashed down on you.

“oh my god,” you whispered, tears welling up.

the doctor reached out, her tone soothing.

“is the baby’s father here? do you want us to call him?”

you shook your head, panic rising.

“i don’t know how to contact him. i don’t even have a phone.”

“that’s okay,” she said softly.

“we’ll make sure you have support. we can arrange for a doula to be with you during delivery.”

the next few hours blurred together. the contractions came faster and harder, and you clung to the voices of the doula and two doctors, their encouragement keeping you grounded.

after two hours of pushing..

“here she is,” the doctor said, placing the tiny, squirming bundle on your chest.

you stared down at your daughter, your breath catching. she was beautiful, with the softest features... dae-ho’s nose, his eyes, his face in miniature. but her lashes and lips were yours.

“hi, baby,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she was quiet and calm, looking up at you with wide eyes. after the chaos of the past week, her presence felt like the first peaceful thing in your life.

the doctor explained that your stress likely triggered your early labor, but at 36 weeks, your daughter was healthy enough.

as the hours passed, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. she was perfect, even though the circumstances were far from it.

the looming question hung heavy in your mind...how were you going to tell dae-ho?

he was the only man you’d ever been with, the only person who could be her father.

without a phone or any way to contact him, the thought of reuniting with him felt impossible.

clutching your daughter close, you whispered a silent promise.

no matter how hard it would be, you’d find a way to tell him. he deserved to know, and your daughter deserved her father.

november 16th felt surreal as you approached the cozy cafe where you and dae-ho had agreed to meet.

your daughter was bundled up snugly in soft layers, her tiny face peeking out from the ivory blanket that kept her warm against the autumn chill.

the weight of her in your arms felt grounding, a reminder of how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

stepping inside, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, pulling you back to the times you had spent here with dae-ho before everything fell apart.

your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.

he sat at a table in the corner, wearing one of the casual outfits you remembered so well...a simple black jacket over a gray hoodie and dark joggers.

it was such a stark contrast to the green tracksuit you had last seen him in during the games.

when his eyes lifted and met yours, they softened, lighting up with a mix of surprise, relief, and joy.

then, his gaze dropped to the baby in your arms, and his expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

he stood as you approached, his movements hesitant but filled with emotion.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet but trembling slightly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped in front of him. you glanced down at your daughter, then back at him.

“she’s yours.”

dae-ho’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms.

“mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

he reached out cautiously, his large hands trembling as they hovered near her, afraid to touch but desperate to hold.

you nodded, gently placing your daughter in his arms.

“yeah. she’s our daughter, dae-ho. eight days old.”

the moment he held her, his composure shattered. his hands cradled her so delicately, as though she were made of the most fragile glass.

a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he looked down at her, his lips parting in awe.

“you were pregnant?” he finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

you nodded again, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t know. not at any point throughout the nine months.. not until after the games, when they dropped me off. i thought the cramps were just stress, but then… i went into labor. the doctors said I had a cryptic pregnancy, their first ever in their careers actually.”

dae-ho looked at her tiny face, taking in every feature—the little nose, the faint dimple in her cheek.

“she looks just like…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“she looks like my second oldest sister.”

“she does,” you agreed softly, watching the way your daughter gazed up at him with pure love in her sleepy eyes.

his voice cracked as he whispered,

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve…” he paused, guilt flickering across his face.

“i wish i had known. i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm.

“dae-ho, none of this is your fault. the circumstances… none of it was in our control. you’re here now, you have us.. and that’s what matters.”

he looked up at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i promise you,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion, “i’m going to be here for both of you. no more running, no more excuses. we’ll be a family, and we’ll put everything from the games behind us.”

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you watched him hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his heart seemed to melt at the sight.

the three of you will make it this work. you’d leave the trauma of the past behind and move forward

together.

masterlist

[impala-dreamer]

Skin on Skin

A Supernatural Story

~ While working a case of multiple random deaths in New Jersey, Y/N finds out that the old adage of “be careful what you wish for” isn’t just a saying…~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader

6,087 Words

NSFW, Magical Curse, Unconscious and Pain, Sexual Acts of Multiple Varieties, Slight Temporary Death, Swoon-worthy Romance, Oral, All the Sex… | Originally posted to Patreon Nov 2024

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The contents of Mrs. Claudine Hofstadter's purse were piled in the center of the small round table surrounded by notepads, pens, two old taco wrappers, and a manilla folder containing a copy of her autopsy report. The fourth odd death in Warren County, Mrs. Hofstadter, new Marchant, had perished when her stomach burst after consuming seven pounds of raw horse meat. According to the report, the previous evening, she had snuck onto her neighbor’s ranch and attacked Ember Blitz, the prizewinning racehorse that was revered by the community. Mrs. Hofstadter mounted the steed and bit down into its throat, taking the creature down in under two minutes flat.

She was dead within seven minutes.

While the other three deaths were seemingly unrelated - no animals were harmed in their demises - they were certainly strange. Once Sam Winchester had picked up on the news, the trio piled into the freshly washed 1967 Chevy Impala and headed for the New Jersey mountains.

Now, the brothers Winchester were talking through various theories while Y/N Y/L/N wasted away from boredom at the table. The case wasn’t uninteresting, but she was simply too distracted by exhaustion and bodily tightness to pay attention.

Days on the road trapped in the backseat were cramped and smelly, and nights locked in a single motel room with the manly hunters were more of the same. She had no time alone, no place to escape to for a moment of peace, no moment to rub one out and calm down. She had tried that morning, waking up early and silently sneaking into the shower, but Sam was up moments later, interrupting her private time to grab his running shorts from the bathroom floor.

She was dying from stunted release.

Fading away from lack of attention.

Desperately craving a warm body pressed up against her and roaming hands groping her flesh.

Absently, Y/N fiddled with the objects recovered from Claudine’s purse. The golden butterscotch hard candies called to her, but she knew better than to eat candy from a stranger’s bag. She pushed the sugary temptations aside and sifted through neatly folded, hopefully clean, tissues, and more packets of Equal than she’d ever seen. There wasn’t much else in the pile: a well-worn Revlon lipstick in mauve, two pens, a blue emery board, and a lighter.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Dean gesturing towards her and for a moment, she tuned back in.

“Y/N agrees with me, don’t you?”

Startled, Y/N grabbed the silver lighter from Claudine’s pile and closed it in her palm. Quickly, she cleared her throat and nodded. “Absolutely, I do.”

While she had no idea what she’d agreed with, she knew it was easier always to answer each of them affirmatively or they’d know she hadn’t been listening. Besides, she usually sided with Dean on matters that required wild gesticulation, if not just to annoy Sam.

“See?” Dean turned back to his brother and the younger man groaned.

“Fine. But-”

The lighter was old and its once shining case was dull and dented by years of use. Y/N rubbed her fingertips over the cool metal, tracing the embossed lines and clicking the lid open and shut while keeping her attention on the boys.

Sam was annoyed and he ran his fingers through his hair. The chestnut strands kept to their place, tucked neatly behind his ear and Y/N found herself imagining them falling to tickle her cheek while Sam balanced himself above her in bed. She wondered what his giant hand would feel like trailing down her naked body, what his long fingers would be like tenderly weaving through her hair. It had been too long since anyone had touched her, and Sam was always so kind and flirty and-

Y/N bit her lip and sighed.

The click of the lighter lid closing went unnoticed below the heated conversation.

“All I’m saying is that people eat horse meat all over the world, Dean. It’s not that uncommon.”

Dean leaned back as if disgusted by the idea, which he was. “OK, sure, but they don’t eat enough to kill themselves. Also- gross.”

His freckled face scrunched up adorably and Y/N’s eyes sank into him. His lips were extra pink and shining, and Y/N’s nipples hardened at the thought of his mouth closing around them, kissing his way down her body, tasting her. He was just too sexy and it had been so long since she’d even kissed anyone. She needed to be touched and devoured, and Dean was always looking at her with hungry eyes, teasing her about going to bed and-

Another click of the lighter, another jolt of desire to her clit.

“So what’s with the other guy- Mark-”

“Marcus Whitmore. He was found with a bullet-hole-like wound to the temple, but no evidence of actually being shot.”

“Yeah, what about that guy?”

Y/N was completely zoned out of the conversation, staring dreamily at Dean’s impossibly broad, muscular shoulders and Sam’s tight little ass lost behind slightly baggy jeans. Dean crossed his arms, flexing his biceps, and Y/N squirmed in her chair. Sam tossed his head back, lengthening his thick neck, and Y/N bit back a desperate whine.

She rubbed at the lighter’s wheel, the dull ridges catching in her thumbnail.

“I’m not really seeing a connection here, Dean.”

“Well, something’s fucked up. Explain to me the first victim- that had to be a witch, dude.”

“What kind of spell fills a woman’s stomach with butterflies?”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be talking about it, we’d be out ganking some bitch.”

Y/N’s body was on fire; her mind wrapped up in explicit scenes starring each man. She struggled to hold in a moan when Sam plopped down on the edge of the closest bed and threw himself back in exasperation. Her eyes followed his long form from feet to forehead and back down, lingering on the perfect line of him.

Tired of arguing, Dean pulled out the chair opposite Y/N and sat down, his long, bowed legs spread wide. Y/N’s eyes flew right to his crotch and her mouth watered as Dean unknowingly tempted her by dragging his palms down his thick thighs.

Her pulse raced. Her cheeks burned. Her pussy throbbed.

She clicked the lighter closed.

God, I need to be touched…

Sam let out a deep breath and she watched the rise and fall, wanting to run her hands over his muscular chest.

She flipped open the lid again.

I haven’t cum in so fucking long…

Dean slouched in his chair and put his head back. She blinked slowly as her pussy dripped, wanting to nibble on his throat and suck a mark by his ear.

She spun the flint wheel.

If I don’t get fucked soon, I’m gonna die.

Suddenly, her hand started to shake and she let out a hard gasp. As she opened her fist, the antique lighter began to glow bright and hot. She dropped it on instinct and a burst of white light flooded the room.

Blinded, the trio lifted their hands to block the light, but it was over before anyone could reason out what was happening.

Sam jumped up from the bed. “What the hell was that!”

Y/N’s stomach churned as panic pushed lust aside. ��Um…” Sheepishly, she looked down at the lighter and cringed.

Dean, noticing her expression, grimaced. “What did you do?”

Defenses flared. “Nothing!” she protested. “Why do you always think I did something?”

Annoyed dimples popped above his plump lips and Dean held out his hand, ticking off instances as he spoke. “Spilling the potion in Rochester… Knocking over that safe in Wyoming and letting the demon loose… Taking a peppermint from the witch in-”

Sam stepped between them. “OK Stop! What was that flash?”

Y/N swallowed hard and pointed to the floor. “I think it came from the lighter…”

Calmed but worried, Sam nodded. “And why did it? Do you do something?”

Offended, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “Et tu, Brute?”

Redness rose in his cheeks. “You must have done something!”

Y/N stood in a huff. “I have done nothing wrong, ever! Today, at least.” She sighed, feeling a little strange. “I’ve just been sitting here thinking about life and how I…” Her vision blurred but she blinked it away. “Um…” Her head felt funny as if the room was spinning, but she shook it off. “Uh… I was just thinking…” A phantom hand tugged at her legs and she swayed, about to drop. “Oh, fuck-”

Dean was quick to catch her, reaching with strong hands to set her back on her feet. “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I…” The dizziness was almost painful and her legs felt like jelly.

Sam dipped his head to look her in the eyes. “What did you think, Y/N/N? Were you holding the lighter the whole time?”

Her eyelids were fluttering; irises floating upwards. “Y-yeah…”

Still holding her, Dean pressed his palm to her cheek and instantly, she felt better.

Gasping in a deep breath, she smiled. “Oh! I’m ok.” She stood up on her own. “I think I’m better.”

Confused but optimistic, Dean let her go. “You sure?”

Feeling perfectly fine, she left his arms and nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m good.”

The moment his touch was gone, Y/N swayed again. The room was spinning and colors were brightening, nearly blinding her.

Dean grabbed her once more, this time closing his hands around her bare arms.

Skin on skin, she felt fine once more. “I’m good, Dean. Really.”

Pushing away, Y/N moved free of his touch and instantly hit the floor. Her balance vanished and her breaths were slow and strained. As she crumbled, Dean followed.

“Son of a bitch!” He gathered her into his lap and clasped her hand. “What the hell were you thinking about?”

Y/N breathed deeper, feeling a thousand times better. “Just about…” Awkwardness tightened in her gut as she looked up at Sam. “...Your ass.”

The imposing tower of a man blushed.

Dean tensed up and chuckled. “My ass?”

Y/N shook her head. “No. His.”

“Uh…” Shyly, Sam straightened up and tried not to grin. “Thanks?”

Disappointed, Dean groaned. “Yeah, well…” He caught Sam posturing proudly and wagged a finger at him. “You shut up.”

Once again feeling right, Y/N sat up and away from Dean. In a split second she went from well to bad. A terrible pain gripped her stomach and she coughed up a mouthful of hot bile. “Oh God- Dean, I’m…I think I’m dy-”

“Whoa, hey!” Dean pressed his hand to her forehead, feeling for a fever. “Hang on.”

The pain vanished and she swallowed the nasty taste. “This is not fun…”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

The second Dean removed his hand from her head, Y/N lost consciousness, dropping like a stone to the ground.

Sam fell to his knees to help but Dean got there first, scooping her up back into his lap and gently shaking her. He held her cheek and called her name softly.

“Y/N, come on…”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Guys, I think the lighter is cursed.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, no shit.” Shifting, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a well-worn navy bandana, waving it at Sam. “Don’t touch it-”

Sam took the rag and rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to.” Carefully, he wrapped up the magical lighter and placed it back on the table to be examined later.

“I feel horrible,” Y/N muttered, shifting against Dean to sit up a bit.

“I bet.”

He pushed away to give her room and immediately regretted it as her eyes rolled back to white.

“Damn it!”

A hand on the back of her neck brought her back and Y/N groaned. “Don’t.”

Dean flinched, ready to pull away. “I’m sorry- I just-”

Y/N shook her head and grabbed his wrist, holding his hand on her neck. “No. Don’t stop touching me. Please.”

Confusion circled the room, washing over them like a midnight fog.

Sam leaned against the table, looking back and forth between Y/N and the lighter. His eyes narrowed. His brow creased.

“Y/N, what exactly did you think?”

Nerves ran down her arms. “It’s embarrassing.” Carefully, she stood up, Dean’s wrist still clutched in her hand. “I don’t wanna say.” Faced with confession, she forgot her predicament and dropped Dean’s hand. The floor undulated like a tidal wave, knocking her off her feet.

This time, Sam was there, his overheated hands delicately holding her elbows. His touch surged through her and Y/N looked up with a hazy smile.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think you need to.”

Sighing, she slid her hand down Sam’s massive forearm and slipped her hand into his, holding on. “Well… It’s been a long time since… ya know.” She shrugged at Dean and then up at Sam, hoping they would catch her drift without writing it in the sky. “And… you guys are always around and I…”

Dean climbed to his feet and crossed his arms. “Spill it.”

Y/N screwed her eyes closed tight and grit her teeth. “I thought… ‘If I don’t have sex soon, I’ll die’!”

One eye peeked open at Dean who frowned. “Son of a bitch.”

The other eye joined to find Sam rubbing his free hand down his cheek. “Son of a bitch.”

Y/N chuckled nervously. “Oops?”

Generally speaking, a curse can be broken in one of two ways: kill the witch who cast the spell, or destroy the object that carries the magic.

Since there seemed to be no witch around to dispatch, the hunters turned their attention to the lighter. Looking back through the case files, Sam found two instances where other victims had the antique firestarter in their possession at the time of their death. There was no way to track the origin of the offending trinket or know how it moved from person to person, but it was more than clear that it instigated a deadly game of wordplay with its victims.

Y/N squeezed Dean’s bicep. “So, the second vic, Mark-”

Sam rolled his eyes and carried on preparing the table for a fire. “Marcus. Whitmore.”

“Yeah, that guy. He… Well, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he said something like “I need that like I need a hole in the head!”... right?”

Dean held back a laugh. It wasn’t funny, but it was funny. “Yup.”

“And the first woman- she had butterflies in her stomach. I get that. Also… ew.” Picking up the lighter, Y/N let go of Dean without thinking and began to fall flat on her face as the air left her lungs. Thankfully, Sam reached over and grabbed her hand in time. She smiled gratefully. “But what happened to Claudine?”

“Easy,” Dean said with a smirk. “She was so hungry she could…”

Y/N cringed. “Eat a horse. Got it.”

Dean licked his lips, accentuating his grin. “Hey, Sam says it’s not that bad… I’d try it.”

“I’ve seen you eat a taco off a dirt road.”

He nodded. “And I’d do it again.”

Sam interrupted by clearing his throat and passing Y/N’s hand back to Dean.

Without further discussion or ceremony, the lighter was blessed with salt and ironically, lighter fluid, and set ablaze by a single match struck by Sam.

The trio watched it burn. The metal glowed a bright orange and sparks erupted as the magic was released into the ether forever.

“Well, there’s another one for the books,” Dean commented victoriously.

Y/N sighed happily. “Thanks, guys. And I’m sorry. I promise not to touch anything dangerous again.”

Sam laughed sweetly. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep…”

Turning away from the boys, Y/N threw her free hands up into the air and rejoiced. “I’m free!” She spun once and felt her stomach lurch. “I’m…” Momentum pulled her into another spin and the ugly red-floral wallpaper began to dance a dizzying tango. “I’m…” The third spin had her legs twisting and her knees buckling.

She hit the floor like a heap of useless bones, crumbling down like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Sam reached her first and revived her with a sweep of fingers across her forehead. Y/N gasped and sat up, exhausted and defeated.

“I don’t think it worked.”

Sam sighed. “It didn’t.”

Near tears, she looked between the brothers, desperate to be unburdened by the deadly magic. “What now?”

Sam looked up at Dean who tried his best not to smirk while balling his right hand and placing it over his left palm.

Sam won, and with Y/N’s consent, carried her to the bed farthest from the door.

Dean hung his head, muttering something about rocks and scissors, and set off to take up residence at the bar on the corner while the deed was done.

Nervous and still holding hands, the pair lay together for a long while. The silence was loud but not uncomfortable, as neither knew what to say or how to begin.

Suddenly worried, Y/N turned onto her side to face him. “Ya know, if you don’t want to, I get it.”

“No!” Realizing he answered too quickly, Sam cleared his throat and smiled. “No. I want to. I’ve wanted to forever. I mean… Uh… It’s just a little strange.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his confession and pushed her fingers through his. His hand was so much bigger than hers, so much stronger. She looked away shyly, but Sam pulled his hand free and set it upon her cheek, drawing her eyes back to his.

His kiss was hesitant but Y/N urged him on. She hummed against his lips and tipped her head to the side, giving him room to move. He licked into her mouth and a dizziness overtook her, this one just as magical, but so much better. She closed her eyes as her lust grew and rolled onto her back, taking him with her.

It wasn’t easy to undress, and each layer of clothing shed had Y/N nearly passing out again only to wake up safe in Sam’s arms. He was gentle with her, kissing his way down her body, tracing her curves with his hands. His skin was hot, his movements sure. He was stirring her passion and literally keeping her alive.

Sam held himself up on strong arms, hovering over her just as he had in her daydream. He bent to kiss her lips and his hair fell into her eyes, swept over her lips, tickled her cheek. She reached with a careful hand to push it back behind his ear and Sam smiled, touched by the tender gesture.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, hazel eyes hazy and locked on her face.

She burned for him, every inch of skin tingling and calling out for him. Y/N spread her legs around his trim hips and squeezed him between her thighs. He felt her wetness against his cock, the heat coming off of her sex.

She rocked her hips, pressing the tip of him into her pussy.

He sucked in a quick breath and shivered.

“Please, Sam…”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled sweetly and nodded. Sure, they had to do it, but she also wanted it. She wanted to feel all of him deep inside. To experience the magic of Sam Winchester.

“So fucking sure,” she breathed, wrapping her hands around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

He sighed and dipped to kiss her again, slipping his tongue between her lips and drawing out her breath. She moaned into him and dug her fingers into his flesh, needing him more than anything.

Slowly, he pushed inside. Her vision exploded into fantastic clarity. Colors danced, the lights seemed brighter, and the world was right again. She held her breath as Sam jerked his hips, fucking her with long, deep strokes that made each muscle tighten around him.

A deep kiss closed her eyes; a hard thrust made her gasp.

Sam kept her riding the edge of bliss for longer than she thought possible. He moved his body with precision, playing her lust like a musical instrument. She dug her nails into his shoulders and chewed her lip to hold in a chorus of blasphemy that would shock the angels watching above.

“God, you feel amazing,” he moaned.

Shifting between her legs, Sam pushed her left knee up high and the new angle made her eyes roll back. She could feel her pulse raging in her cunt; the pleasure building higher with each thrust.

Sam threw his head back as he quickened his pace. Sweat was beading on his brow and upper lip, glistening on his firm chest. He held her knee up against his side and grunted with each pulse of his hips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

His jaw dropped. His eyes squeezed shut. His body went stiff and then shook as he let go. In the depths of a ragged breath, Sam whispered her name and then fell down, covering her completely and kissing her lips.

“You are incredible.”

Y/N gripped his arm and kissed his shoulder. She sighed happily and snuggled deep against him as he rolled over.

“That was so hot, Sam. Thank you…”

He blushed at her thanks and kissed her again. Once he started, he didn’t want to stop, but exhaustion struck him hard.

“How do you feel?”

Y/N paused for a moment as she took stock of herself and then smiled gratefully. “I think I’m cured!”

“That’s amazing,” Sam said with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

“Thanks to you.” Y/N let her eyes trail down to his cock. “And you.”

With bright red cheeks and a shy laugh, Sam turned away and grabbed the blanket from the floor, covering himself. “Be right back.”

Y/N winked as he left and Sam shut the bathroom door.

Staring into the mirror, he took a few calming breaths as his mind replayed what had just happened. He was amazed and excited, shocked and sated. He laughed thinking about how many times nearly dying had brought him closer to someone, and he was glad this time it was Y/N.

Deed done and hands washed, Sam walked back into the bedroom. “That really was something amazing, Y/N,” he mused, reaching for his discarded shorts. “I mean… I guess I can tell you now that I’ve thought about it before… A lot, but…”

Y/N hadn’t answered or looked up. She was turned on her right side, her head softly laid upon the pillow, fast asleep.

Sam pushed his head through his gray tee and smiled at his sleeping beauty. Carefully, he moved to the side of the bed and pulled the sheet up over her shoulder, tucking her in. An overwhelming surge of happiness struck him in the chest and he bent to kiss her soft cheek.

Her skin was cool.

“Y/N?”

Sam shook her shoulder but she didn’t wake.

“Fuck. Y/N!”

He grabbed her face between both hands but she didn’t stir.

“Come on, come on! Wake up!”

Keeping one hand on her cheek, Sam grabbed his phone from the floor and rushed to dial Dean’s number.

The phone rang in his ear and another rang outside of the room.

The lock turned and Dean stuck his head through the door. “You decent?”

Sam huffed and threw his cell down. “Get in here!”

“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting grown-up time,” Dean joked, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

“Dean.”

“How’d it go?”

His answer was found as soon as he shut up and looked over at his brother. Sam was crouched down at the side of the bed with his hands on Y/N’s face and bare arm. She was unmoving beneath the sheet, not even the rise and fall of her chest was visible.

Dean froze.

“What the fuck happened!”

Frantic and confused, Sam shook his head. “I don’t know! We… ya know. And she was fine! I got up to pee and-”

Dean raced to the bed. “And ya killed her!”

“She was fine, Dean!”

Green eyes examined the scene. Y/N was still as in a deep sleep, but the absence of breath told him otherwise. “Do the hand thing! Touch her-”

Tears strained against his eyes and Sam looked up at his brother, desperate for any help. “I am. It’s not working.”

“Fuck. Fuck!”

The wheels turned in Dean’s head and before Sam could say another word, Dean was tugging his jeans down and ripping his shirt off.

“What are you doing?”

Dean shrugged and climbed into bed beside Y/N. “I don’t know, but this can’t hurt.” Naked but for his boxers, he pulled back the sheet and rolled close to her. He covered her in his arms and crushed her face to his chest. He held her there, counting the seconds until he felt her breathe again.

Magically, the air returned and Y/N started shaking beneath him. She struggled to push away and coughed life back into her body.

Dean swallowed hard and rubbed her back. “Jesus, Y/N/N, you scared us.”

“What the fuck happened?” she asked, wide eyes looking between the brothers for an answer.

“Romeo let you die so he could go pee.”

Offended, Sam popped up from the floor. “That’s not what happened, Dean!”

“OK, stop yelling.” Y/N tugged at the thin white sheet and pulled it with her as she sat up. Her body was aching but not in a good way. The lights hurt her eyes, her head was pounding, her chest burned. “I, um… I feel really like- like crap.”

Dean scooted closer, keeping one hand on her. “I know.”

She looked up at Sam. “But why? We… didn’t we?”

He shrugged. “We did. It should have broken the spell.”

Dean bit back most of a smirk. “Did you stick it in properly?”

Despite her swaying pain, Y/N laughed with him.

Sam did not find it funny in the slightest and rubbed at his temples. “I know how to- Damnit, Dean!”

 A true smirk pulled through.

Y/N shivered. “I don't get it. I thought…” The answer smacked her in the face and she cringed. “Oh.”

 Dean leaned in. “Oh?”

Sam narrowed his gaze. “What’s ‘Oh’?”

“Well…”

The brothers sighed in tandem.

“I maybe…”

They hung on her pause.

“I maybe thought something else right before the sex thing and I-”

“Y/N…”

Sam’s disapproval and exhaustion went through her like ice and her defenses rose quickly.

“I didn’t realize the thoughts went together! Hell, I wasn’t planning on this!”

He softened and sat on the edge of the bed by her side. “It’s OK. I’m sorry. Obviously, this wasn’t planned.”

She smiled sadly and tucked her arms around her knees, hiding.

“What exactly did you think before the sex thing?”

Her stomach flipped nervously. “Uh… well…”

 Dean squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Come on, can’t get worse than this.”

 She took a breath and then spelled it out. “I was watching you guys and thinking about how I haven’t exactly had time alone and… well, how I haven’t come in forever and… then the sex thing.”

Silence floated around above them while the pieces fit together.

Dean licked his lip. “Wait…”

Y/N hid her face in her knees.

Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Did you not- come?”

She tried to play it off, to act like it wasn’t a devastating thing for Sam to hear, but it wasn’t great. “I mean… it was really nice, Sam. Like really hot.”

Dean tried to hold on and not laugh out loud. “But he didn’t… You didn’t… finish?”

 Sam growled. “OK, shut up, Dean! It was stressful.”

 The elder cocked a brow. “Did you?”

Standing up, Sam turned away to hide his awkwardness.

“You did!” Dean sucked his teeth in disappointment. “Tisk, tisk, brother. Ladies first. Always.”

Y/N shivered as Dean turned his eyes to her and dragged his fingertips down her arm. “He didn’t do anything wrong, I just didn’t… get there.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Dean shifted onto his knees and looked into her eyes. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

Sam was out the door before Dean had tossed his leg over Y/N’s middle, pinning her to the bed. He grinned and wet his plump bottom lip. “Never leave a boy to do a man’s job.”

Y/N laughed but lost the glee to arousal when Dean dropped down close. He held himself barely an inch away, too far to kiss, but close enough to breathe in. He smelled like crap beer and wing sauce, and suddenly it was the most appetizing scent in the world. She lifted her head and took a taste, kissing him hard and licking deep into his mouth.

Dean’s eyes closed and long lashes brushed the tops of her cheeks. She smiled and drank him in.

“Hi.”

He laughed gently. “Hey. You cool with this?”

“Do I have a choice?” she teased.

“There’s always a choice.”

“You know what I mean.” She turned her face away, embarrassed and unsure.

He chased her. “You wanna know if I’m just doing this to save your life?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Dean let her linger for a second longer than was kind. He closed his eyes, gathering up the right words.

“I don’t want you to die,” he said finally. “But I also want you to cum on my tongue.”

Her entire body shuddered with need and he savored the look of passion in her eyes. He kissed her softly and she scratched her hand through his short hair making him growl into her mouth.

Never creaking the connection, Dean moved slowly down her naked body, sweeping his lips over each dip and curve, igniting every nerve he touched with tingling fire. He licked at her pulse, blew a gentle breath over her ear, strummed her lips with his thumb.

When his hot mouth closed around her nipple, Y/N arched upwards, as if she was a magnet and he a slab of iron. She curled her arms around his shoulders and dragged her nails down between his shoulder blades. She could feel his shiver and it drove her mad.

“You’re so fucking hot,” she mumbled, shocked when the words came out.

Green eyes looked up and Dean grinned. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was enough. A flick of his pink tongue forced her back down onto the pillow and Dean slithered down to settle between her thighs. He slid one thick finger through her wetness and then matched it with his thumb, carefully spreading her lips apart.

His breath was slow and hot, and her clit hardened when he held his lips there, not touching but teasing, letting her need grow beyond what she could stand.

“Please…”

Dean pulled away and dropped kiss after kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She squirmed and lifted her hips, whined when he passed over her pussy again.

“Dean- please…”

He sucked a kiss on her outer lip and Y/N cried out, utterly desperate for him.

Looking up, he licked his lips slowly and Y/N dropped her hand to his head, swept her touch down his temple, curled her fingers around his ear.

“Please,” she begged, near to tears. “I need you.”

Dean moaned under his breath. “You got me.”

Tongue flat against her pussy, Dean lapped at her wetness before sealing his perfectly plump lips around her clit. Sparks pulsed bright white behind her closed eyes as he licked and suckled, devoured her heat. When her legs began to shake, he slid his middle finger into her, his knuckles disappearing as he sank deep inside.

“Fuck!”

She gripped the bed sheet.

His tongue rippled against her clit.

Her eyes rolled back in pure pleasure and she came with a tight-lipped shout, her hips bucking up into Dean’s handsome face.

“Goddamn!”

She panted and wiggled to get away, but Dean refused to let go. If she scooted back, he followed. She squirmed to the left, he pulled her back.

Finally, he pushed his arms beneath her legs, hooked his hands around her hips, and tugged. Trapped, Y/N had no choice but to hold still and let him carry on.

He started slowly, winding the tip of his tongue gently around her pulsing. Y/N sighed happily as her heart rate calmed and her breathing caught up. She stretched her arms out across the bed, enjoying the attention and the feeling when he hummed against her skin.

“You’re… really fucking good at this,” she whispered.

Dean pulled up with a kiss and a wink. “Did you expect anything less?”

Y/N shook her head and lost all thought as he dove back down and picked up speed.

Words were piercing the air. Unintelligible, filthy, cursed words that had to fight through clenched teeth to be heard.

Her toes curled and dug into his back.

His fingers pumped into her, forcing out another orgasm, but Dean wasn’t satisfied. He rubbed deep inside until her shoulders were off the mattress and her breath was stopped in her throat.

Her eyes went wide and he held her gaze as her body convulsed and let go. A hot stream flooded his mouth and the cheap bedding below. Dean drank her down and kept thrusting, eeking out every last drop until she collapsed and whined, pushing at his face to move him away.

“Fuck! I can’t… that’s never happened before-”

Smug and a beautiful mess, Dean climbed back up to frame her from above. His lips were swollen and his jaw ached, but he’d never looked so content.

“You just needed a little help, is all.”

Y/N shook her head and pushed herself up to kiss his glistening mouth. “No. I just needed you…”

It was a while before Sam returned, and thankfully, everyone was clothed and clean when he opened the door.

Y/N was lying on the bed with Dean by her side. His hand was resting on her stomach and she covered it with her own.

Sam took a hesitant step into the room. “How’d it go?”

A grin lit Dean’s face and Sam held up his hand, halting the details.

“Never mind.” He looked to Y/N. “How are you feeling?”

She sighed happily and sat up. “Amazing.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am. I promise.” Pushing Dean away, she leapt up from the bed and stood in front of Sam. “See? No touchy.”

He exhaled in relief. “Good. I’m glad.”

Reaching for his hand, Y/N smiled up at him. “Thank you, Sam. You saved me.” She kissed his hand and his cheeks burned bright.

“Hey!” Dean cleared his throat and looked offended. “I helped.”

Y/N laughed. “Yes. Yes, you did. Thank you, too.”

“So… what now?” Sam asked, still clinging to her hand.

“Now… we move on. Lighter’s destroyed so no danger there.” She smiled sweetly and turned away to grab her laptop. “I’m sure there’s another case lurking just around the corner.”

Sadly, Sam let her fingers slide away.

“Yeah. Probably.”

It wasn’t what he meant, but he didn’t want to get into anything else just yet. Y/N was safe and that’s all that mattered.

Other things, other feelings could be dealt with another day.

As if reading his mind, Dean walked up and clamped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. The brothers passed a look between them, promising never to talk about it, and to be civil in the forthcoming fight for Y/N’s affection.

Light was shining from the screen, lighting up her smile as Y/N looked up at the guys. “I think I got something! Three bodies turned up in the woods about two and a half hours south of here. Buzz online is that it’s the Jersey Devil.”

Dean laughed and turned away. “No such thing.”

“Sure there is!”

Sam shook his head and ran his hand through his hair to right the mess. “Sorry, Y/N. It’s not real.”

Y/N huffed. “So sex curses are real but winged, kangaroo-looking monsters in the forest aren’t. That’s what we’re going with?”

A shrug.

A smile.

A story for another day.

2025 Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @caplanbuckybarnes @cevenasdove-baby @cosicas-cuquis @deanwinchesterswitch

@feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @illicithallways @jackles010378 @k-slla

@luvr4miya @mxtansy @nightxcreature @peytongoose @shadyloveobject 

@somebrokeartstudent @the-wounded-healer05 @zepskies

Add Yourself To The List

[crescenthistory]

Cariiiiina, love!

Congratulations on this amazing milestone, I am so so so proud of you! It’s a well deserved achievement and I really love your celebration event. (So sweet like you!)

I love your writing, your ideas, your thoughts! Just as I love the warmth of your blog and how sweet the insights about you and your wife are! Truly lovely people here! And that’s why so many lovely people gathered here!

A toast to you, and for the next deserved milestones on the way!

I wanted to ask if I could request a domestic Argue? With 49 family photos + 74 vhs tapes? With precious Remus Moony Lupin?

I thought of f!reader, and something along the lines of „as happy as the photos make it seem, the times weren’t happy. It was sad / hard and hurtful“ (could be applied to both/ one of them, whatever you think suits best!)

Thanks for considering! Lots of love, and congratulations!

- Lel

hi lel!! thank you so immensely much<33 you are just such an angel, i appreciate your enthusiasm and kind words so much 😭🤍 i'm glad my blog comes across the way i hope, big hugs to you xx loved this prompt:,)

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 49 "family photos" and prompt 74 "vhs tapes" with remus lupin

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: established relationship, references to the war but not canon-compliant, melancholic, sweet fluffy hurt/comfort, referenced fertility struggles (hope&lyall) remus' self-loathing, lycanthropy

wc: exactly 1.6k

The Lupin Cottage was quiet in a way you had never experienced before.

Sitting cross-legged in a plush armchair in the reading room on the second floor, you stared out the window. You could see how harshly the wind was treating the trees and you knew the walls of the narrow home were not thick, yet you couldn't hear a thing. You wondered if Lyall had set up a spell of some kind.

Despite the silence, the house was talkative, always alerting you to the other inhabitants' movements. The creaking by the doorway made you turn your head over the shoulder to see Remus leaning against the doorframe with a wistful smile.

"Hi, cariad," you greeted cheekily, smiling around the nickname his mother calls him. "You found me."

Remus huffed a laugh as he looked down, pushing off the doorframe and leaning on his indoor cane as he moved to sit in the chair across from yours. "Was wondering where ya ran off to. My mother hasn't scared you off already, has she?"

You shook your head with a small smile even before you could think of what to say.

This was your first time meeting Remus' parents properly – you had seen them in the passing on the platform or in doorways over your years at Hogwarts, but with the way the war immediately picked up after graduation, you were unable to spend an extended period of time with them. To be with them for the month of January now felt like a blessing; one you didn't take lightly.

"Hope is lovely, she could never scare me off," you assured Remus, holding his gaze to ensure he knew you meant it. "I just wanted to look through the house and found this room. It's sweet, I really like it."

You looked over the room, the shelves on shelves filled with worn out books, seemingly passed down over generations. There was a small fireplace and an even smaller television, beyond outdated but with a few VHS tapes and movies stacked beneath it that indicated it still worked. It was cozy, the exact thing you would have imagined the Lupins having.

When you looked back at Remus he was still looking at you, a deep look in his eyes. A bit haunted, but no less loving. Loving. You counted your lucky stars that you got to keep the man you loved.

"I'm glad you like it," he all but whispered. "It was my favourite growing up. It was actually supposed to be a bedroom for any potential younger siblings, but, well, that didn't work out, did it?"

There was more guilt than grief in his voice and you furrowed your brows, reaching out across the small space to give him your hand. He took it with a small smile, intertwining your fingers and squeezing.

You already knew why he didn't have any younger siblings; his parents struggled with even conceiving him and kept trying after he was born. They gave up the day he was bit.

"I can tell it's been well-loved. That's a good thing."

Another squeeze of your hand. "It is."

A look came over Remus' face, as if he remembered something. "Mum wanted us to keep our sentimentals in here, to make sure it remained a room of love. If you want, there should be a box over by the television. You can bring it over.”

Anyone else might not have been able to read the vulnerability in Remus’ voice, but you knew him better than that by now. “I would love to,” you said reassuringly, letting his hand go in favour of placing it on his shoulder as you passed.

The wide TV stood on top of a small shelf filled with DVDs and VHS tapes – some of which had handwriting on them, you could barely make out words like WEDDING and REMUS BIRTHDAY. Beside them were compartments with boxes of various contents, but you understood which one he meant by the look of it. There were tracks in the dust on top of it, showing that it was taken out semi-frequently, and you could see some pictures through the holes near the top.

Sliding it out of the shelf was no problem, but it was much heavier than anticipated, causing you to laugh at yourself as you carried it over. Remus was looking at you bemusedly and you just flashed him a bright smile and climbed up onto his chair, sitting on the armrest and placing the box in his lap by your feet.

“Show me. Please.” Your voice was quiet and earnest, laden in love and smiles as you looked at him.

You could swear you saw the tips of his freckled ears grow red at the attention, turning his head down towards the box abashedly. 

He brought up a thick photo album with dark brown and gold details on its outside. If the books on the shelves were worn, then this album was well-loved, with fraying edges and some pictures almost falling out. Your fingers itched to cast a preservation spell over it, but that was far from your place. For now, you just wanted him to show you every little detail of who he was and who he became. 

“This one is from when I was quite young – think toddler,” he narrated as he began to flip it open.

Any further explanation he might have had was cut off by the massive coo that escaped you at the sight of the front page. Remus John Lupin, aged 2, wearing a paper crown with his name on it and grinning at a  piece of cake, chocolate frosting on his nose and chin. 

You leaned forward, almost burying your face in the book to see, fighting back tears at the absolute sweetness that was baby Remus. “You were such an adorable baby,” you cooed, tracing the air just above the picture, scared to damage it. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen baby pictures of you before.”

“I was just a normal babe,” he tried to brush it off, redness now creeping from his ears and into his cheeks.

When you turned your face towards his, you were much closer than anticipated, only furthering your grin as you regarded his flustered expression. “No, love. You were adorable.” A quick peck. “Still are.”

You laughed and leaned your head on top of his, encouraging him to continue flipping through the album and showing you. If he was bothered by your teasing, he didn’t show it – on the contrary, one of his hands came to rest around your hip, steadying you, and his thumb traced loving, absentminded circles there. 

As he whispered commentary about the various pictures – Remus in his rain boots, Remus with sheep that wandered into the garden, Remus playing in the sand – and you kept gushing over how adorable he was, you felt gratitude settling comfortably within you. 

He stopped short when he flipped a page; no comments, no reactions, just regarded what he saw. It was an image of Remus, now around the age of 7, back to the camera as he decked the table in a new living room. It was dark, but you could just barely see Lyall in the background, working in the kitchen.

Eventually, he cleared his voice and spoke. “This was when they started taking pictures again.” 

Your grip on him tightened, giving him time and space to feel. You knew what he referred to. Humming in approval, you began pressing kisses to his tawny hair, making sure not to shy away from his touch, but instead lean into him. Show him you were there.

Remus began flipping through again, though his comments were much more sporadic now. You didn’t hold back on your cooing, commenting on his beautiful dimples and his cute I-got-dressed-by-myself-today outfits. His thumb kept going at your hip.

At the sight of an up-close picture of 8 year old Remus smiling awkwardly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to smile with teeth yet, he stopped once more to trace the line of the scar on his nose. “You know,” he whispered. “Seeing pictures like these is so odd. It was such a painful time, but it didn’t really translate to camera. Sans the scars, I almost seem like a normal kid.”

You drew out the kiss to his hairline so you had time to think of what to say. “You were a normal kid, though. Even with everything, you were always just a sweet boy. Still are.”

He breathed through his nose in a half-laugh, tilting his head up to look at you. “Of course you would think that, you’re in love with me.”

You hummed happily and leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his awaiting, soft lips. “I’m glad you’ve got that right at least,” you murmured before you pulled away, caressing his cheek as you watched him. “I like seeing pictures from then; both before and after. It’s a part of you and I do love every part of you.”

His smile was melancholic but no less genuine. “I will never understand that, I think.”

“You don’t need to, my love. You just need to let me.”

Remus huffed through a smile once more, dragging you closer to him by the arm around your hip and breathing you in. “I’ve never been one to deny you anything, have I?”

“Are you good for looking at more pictures or is it time to go help Hope with dinner?”

Remus regarded you for a second, smile growing. “Look through a few more, my love.”

[popcornforone]

Appreciation

Day twenty one of the Seasons of Life Drabble Challenge

A Frankie Catfish Morales Fic

MASTERLIST

It’s the day @berryispunk has been waiting for. It’s Frankie’s Turn, & for Aviators as the Prompt it was the natural choice for sure. Also I’m sure @lady-bess & @fanfictionoverload will still love it.

Synopsis:- It’s Frankie Birthday.

Word Count:- 500 (on the button)

No real warning here, I like doing soft Frankie.

Don’t worry no additional post today just this one, yesterday was a one off. See you all tomorrow.

Frankie had never been one for the limelight. So when his birthday rolled around, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t make much of it. To Frankie, it was just another day. But you had other plans.

The idea came to you one night as he fiddled with an old, scratched pair of aviators he’d bought years ago at a gas station during one of their ops. He wore them religiously, despite the crooked fit & fading tint, they meant the world to him.

On his birthday, you waited until everyone else had piled in for breakfast at the diner they always met at. Frankie had strolled in last, his ever present baseball cap slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Frankie asked, sliding into the booth beside you.

“Just breakfast,” Pope said with a shrug, not quite hiding the wink he threw your way.

The moment came after the plates had been cleared, the coffee cups refilled, & Frankie had loosened up enough to lean back with a small smile on his face. That’s when you slid the neatly wrapped box across the table toward him. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it,” you urged, unable to hide your grin. Frankie’s rough hands made quick work of the paper, revealing a black case. When he unzipped it & pulled out the aviators, his breath hitched. They weren’t just any sunglasses; they were a designer pair, the kind pilots swore by. Sleek, sturdy, & stylish. He ran his fingers over the frame, his lips parting slightly as he tilted them to catch the light.

“These are nice,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“You needed an upgrade,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “Those gas station specials were an insult to your whole vibe.” The table erupted in laughter. He slid the aviators on & looked around, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

“How do they feel?” Pope asked.

“Like I could take on the world,” Frankie replied, & though the line was delivered with a hint of sarcasm, there was no mistaking the genuine gratitude in his voice.

For the rest of the day, he kept the glasses on, even as the sun started setting. It wasn’t about the price or the brand, it was about the thought. Every time he glanced your way, his lips curled into a smile that seemed reserved just for you.

Later, as the two of you sat on the hood of his truck, watching the waves roll in under the sun set, he turned to you. “Thanks for the aviators,” he said simply, but the way he said it held more weight than the words alone.

“I know your old pair were sentimental Frankie,” you replied, leaning back & watching as he adjusted the glasses, . “& If you don’t like these…” you then hand him a carrier bag”… I also got this pair for $5 at the gas station” he laughs loudly.

“That’s my girl” he kisses your forehead.

“Happy birthday Frankie”

[endiness]

"Epic fantasy has responded poorly to too much oversight from above. I think that was The Witcher’s problem. You had that visionary: It was Henry Cavill. And they didn’t want to listen to him. So, well, there you go." — Brandon Sanderson

Yeah, anyway, just a friendly reminder that Henry Cavill massively over-exaggerated how much of a fan he was of the franchise and how much he knew about it as he hadn't even read the books when he first sought out the role because he thought that the books were based off the games (and for some reason despite proclaiming himself to be such a lorebuff, he ~curiously never bothered to check them out; he can't have ever googled or wiki'd the series, either, despite finding out that Netflix was making the show from the internet, because if he had, then surely he would've learned that the games were actually based on the books and would've read them; and somehow he also ~curiously never noticed that the first thing credited in the games is Sapkowski and the books.) He only read the books after Lauren told him about them and even then, he only read the series once right before he was cast in 2018. He also only ever really played the third game and even then, he never played the DLC for it.

By his own admission, he also didn't actually do any research or preparation for the role because, as established above, he hadn't read the books when he first sought out the role, he only read the series once after Lauren told him about the books, and he's really only played the third game.

"I asked my agent to put me on the spot and wanted to meet Lauren as soon as possible. I didn’t even need to prepare specially for the role. Because I breathe, I experience this universe every day. I’ve already had many opportunities to think about this character when I was playing the game. My preparation was already done before the casting even began!"

Henry Cavill was also directly responsible for a lot of the show's deviations from the books, or he at least had a hand in them, and the idea the he was such an advocate for the source material is actually just a massive pr campaign he ran against Lauren, the writers, and the show to deflect from his own responsibility for those changes and because he was mad about how he was co-lead with two women and the general prominence of women on the show.

He fucked up Geralt's characterization in S1 and made it inaccurate to the books by cutting his lines and either saying nothing or just grunting instead — often leaving his scene partners in the position of not knowing what was going on and if he was going to say his lines and even having to take his lines just in order to move the plot along. (Half of Geralt's dialogue was cut in the S1 finale, btw.)

"Henry tends to cut his lines, say less, which means I have to say more. So I had to improvise quite often." — Joey

Then in the press for S2, Henry Cavill started heavily pushing the narrative about how important adhering to the source material is to him and how much he advocated for a more book accurate, verbose Geralt — and not only did he virtually never take any responsibility for how it was due to his acting choices that happened in the first place, but he also lied about the whole thing and tried to act like Geralt was never originally written as being verbose and blamed Geralt's lack of dialogue on Yennefer and Cir's prominence — which can't be true as confirmed by Lauren. (Yennefer and Ciri's scenes were actually the ones cut in S1, btw.)

He tried to act like he was inspired by Doug Cockle's performance to make up for the lack of Geralt's dialogue — which can't be true because he only decided to use his "Geralt" voice in January 2019 but filming for the show started late October/early November 2018 and meanwhile he started cutting Geralt's lines from the pilot episode.

And he tried to act like the lines he was cutting weren't even really that important anyway so it didn't really matter that he was cutting them — which can't be true as confirmed by Joey.

Whenever Henry Cavill went on about how important adhering to the source material is to him in the press for S2 as if Lauren's vision of the show was somehow contradictory to that and the books, he was actually just mad about the prominence of women on the show. (Ciri is the main character of the main book series, btw, and women move the plot forward in the books in massive ways and are absolutely integral to the story.)

(In the press for S2, he also went on about how important men being three dimensional characters is to him as if women being three dimensional characters on the show somehow came at the expense of the male characters.) (Also, here's a quote from him during the press for S2: "I believe that real men are very sensitive. They are very capable of doing things which can be violent, if possible, or necessary. But at the same time, they are incredibly capable of love and caring amongst men and towards children and family and all sorts." Weird that he doesn't specifically list women as people that real sensitive, violent men can be loving and caring towards and reduces them to just being part of "all sorts." 🤔)

Henry Cavill also fucked up Geralt and Jaskier's friendship — beyond, y'know, just cutting Geralt's dialogue in scenes with Jaskier. (Imo given everything he's said, I think it's likely a lot of the dialogue he was cutting in their scenes was any, all, or most affirmation on Geralt's side of things that he cares about Jaskier and that they're friends and, in general, just any positivity toward Jaskier and their friendship .)

"In the books, they are very, very close friends. That is so obvious. They speak to each other fondly. The opportunity is different in this story because Jaskier turns up and he’s not an immediate player straight away. We sort of had to show that essence of Geralt and Joey playing the complete opposite, which creates a wonderful dynamic. If I were to play it more directly like the books, it wouldn’t quite have the same sense of two fated friends. They’d just be like, “Hey, buddy!” Instead, Geralt cares deeply for Jaskier, whether he wants to admit it or not."

He cut a sex scene between Geralt and Yennefer in S2 because he didn't understand Geralt and Yennefer's characters and their relationship dynamic as it absolutely would've been in character of them to have sex after reuniting.

"We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page. […] That's not how they behave. How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space."

He nixed even the idea of Geralt and Triss just platonically finding comfort with each other — which is what happens in the books.

"The thing that was important to me, which we took directly from the books, is that Triss asks Geralt to spend the night with her and, in the books, he actually says yes once she says just basically lay with me, nothing is going to happen. Henry felt very, very strongly that when we were playing this scene he still believed that his one true love, Yennefer of Vengerberg, was dead. He was still mourning her. So he didn't actually want to go that extra step and have them have any intimacy whatsoever." — Lauren

He didn't want to play Geralt struggling with fatherhood in any way in S2 nor with any character flaws and only positive character traits (because he was overcompensating for how he fucked up Geralt's characterization in S1 and was embarrassed that redditors were dunking on him for it and that even the show was completely harmlessly making fun of Geralt's "grumpy snowman" characterization) — all of which resulted in the domino effect of Yennefer's betrayal, Eskel's death (which in itself led to Vesemir trying to create new witchers and Lambert's harsher attitude toward Ciri), and Voleth Meir being the big bad of the season.

So yeah, anyway, a friendly reminder that the conspiracy theory that Henry Cavill ragequit the show because he just cares about the source material oh so much and he's the only one in the cast and crew to know anything about it and he's the only reason why the show followed the books in any way whatsoever is, actually, just a conspiracy theory based off nothing more than Henry Cavill saying that he cares about the source material while all of his actions and everything else he's said, as established above, proves otherwise. 👍

[melliae]

Hong Lu, An Analysis-Prediction

Before beginning, as always, I've to clarify something: I haven't read Dream of the Red Chamber. My best source of information are the thematic connections drawn in the Reddit sub of Limbus, and that only gives me a slight idea of what Project Moon may have in mind.

So, everything below here is complete and utter speculation based on my own knowledge and impressions about Hong Lu's character, Sins, EGOS, and Abnormalities. Beware, and feel free to comment your own opinions!

Now, let's go with the post!

What We Know

So, I think the best way to start this analysis is by recapitulating Hong Lu’s overall character so far. For that, we need to return to the first ever explanation of his personality: the “resume” given in the game page and during his presentation in Selva Oscura.

“As such, he has a certain admiration for a free life; but occasionally, he may make ignorant and unsavory questions in regards to the food cooked by a certain other Sinner or other aspects of the low-lives' lowly culture. [,,,] However, it is important to note that no sarcastic undertones are contained in his curiosity-driven inquiries, so it is ill-advised to let them get physical over it.”

As a general thing… It surprisingly holds up! Don’t misunderstand me, though. It isn’t that the description is perfect; it’s just not untrue. In fact, his first even line in the game, about Dante’s head being some sort of trend and not waiting for an answer, totally falls there. Similarly, there are several other moments showing Hong Lu’s innocence and naivety without any ulterior or hidden motive, from wondering if the casino workers of Canto II were trying to make the Peccatula their pets (likely because his grandmother collects weird animals) to unintentionally insulting Outis’ watch in Canto VI. I’d say the biggest proof of his lack of experience is the moment in Canto V where he adjusted the LCCB badge of a pirate that very obviously wasn’t a member of Limbus. Though all of his weirdness may derive from the fact that his elders—which are weird as hell—are his point of reference.

Now, since his most notable trait has been explained, we can move into the discrepancies of the description, and the biggest one is mentioned at the end: that under Hong Lu's comments there is no sarcasm—which is a complete lie! This man is a menace, and the Sinner’s experiences in District 20 during To Claim Their Bones and Canto VI shows it, from agreeing Caiman’s assessment of LCB to joining Nelly’s teasing, including his lines while helping Heathcliff with his appearance and clothes. But arguably, my favorite example of this is the horror story he told during Canto V that scared Sinclair and which he only finished when the latter ran away. Don't tell me Hong Lu was being innocently insensitive back there: Sinclair was visibly shitting bricks, and the pretty boy here is keen enough to masterfully play the most compassionate and kind member of the League of Nine.

“Brother Young-ji was a man of kindness. He was not one to rashly harbor spite or reproach for others. You resemble him in that sense.” - Yi Sang, Blossoming League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

Though I suppose the difference between them is that Hong Lu clearly has a more optimistic and fun-loving attitude. This is an obvious trait that he has had since his childhood, when he played with and complained about his “cheating” siblings, sneaked into the dining hall of his manor for snacks, and simply didn’t follow his family’s rules. But since we know his family is extremely strict (if not outright sadistic), this sanguine streak may have developed (or gotten worse) as some sort of defense mechanism, which is seen better with Wakashu Hong Lu and his “lack of manners.” In fact, all of his Identities show an unnatural or improper calmness about his situation, no matter how horrible it is.

Another thing to highlight is his inquisitive, curious, and surprisingly understanding nature. While most of the examples above, especially him playing Young-ji, are proof of that, as it plays very well with his sheltered life. But I want to point out the best and most recent example of Hong Lu’s surprising contemplativeness: Time Killing Time. In particular, the most important scene is near the end, when Rodya and Hong Lu discuss his motivation to pursue the Time Reaper:

“I... just wanted to understand. Because, to me, the world was full of things I couldn't understand. In truth, I still understand so little of it. Why do people hang on so desperately to something like time? Something so... ephemeral?” - Hong Lu, Chapter 15: The Final Problem.

It’s normal to assume Hong Lu’s words are solely referring to the miserable monetary system of T Corp., but I don't think that’s all. We know that Hong Lu and Xinchun are well acquainted with the “immortality of the mind” the elders of their family are obsessed with, and what is immortality but infinite time? Thus, what Hong Lu asked there was why people hang on to the erroneous belief that life should not move or change, remaining constant and hence perfect for the rest of eternity. Yet, that isn’t what life truly is, right? It’s not for nothing that Hong Lu’s introductory quote is that “life has its vicissitudes as jade has its flaws,” which conveys his philosophy of detachment perfectly.

“When you’re distraught, simply remember that life goes on even if what you’re doing now doesn’t work out. Then, you’ll be free of worries.” - LCB Hong Lu

However, while the idea of detaching oneself from the whole without renouncing loving it is respectable, the way in which Hong Lu lives it is far from perfect, because detachment is not about carefreely admitting you will just simply gather the remains of your sister in case she is mutilated or readily accepting a horrible death just because you don’t mind dying. Even he himself admits from time to time, as with his jealousy over Heathcliff’s propensity to “ignore what he doesn’t like” (Rooms Past the Door) or Rim’s capacity to fly freely. In fact, one may even say that he hasn’t become detached at all, because doing so implies the complete acceptance of the “jade’s” beauty and flaws; Hong Lu, however…

“A thousand hours… Will a thousand hours have passed in the blink of an eye? [...] Then... I like that. Rip my time away.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 14: The Clock Tower of Fear, TimeKilling Time.

He has become detached from life altogether, and how could he not with the disaster that his family is? That likely was his only way to survive in such an environment, and unlike the rest of the Jia, he doesn’t seem to have that lucky predisposition for resentment and hatred. Even when his siblings tried to kill him the first time, Hong Lu didn’t come to hate them; he fully understood them because that’s the kind of person he is, just like Young-ji. However, since he realized such a thing through his big heart, he’s now fully aware that he will ultimately and cruelly die by their hands thanks to his love. In such a case, what other option does he have beyond merely “dancing”? A joke here, a sarcastic comment there, and a final appreciation for everyone so nothing is taken seriously and causes dissatisfaction, no matter how dim his eye becomes.

So, as of the 5th Walpurgisnacht, Hong Lu’s character can be summarized as follows:

Has a friendly, compassionate, and understanding personality that clashes against the violent and strict nature of his family.

Became detached over his own life because he can’t bring himself to hate and hurt his family.

His carefree attitude and sheltered life lead him to not understand some of the social conventions of… anyone who still has some respect for their own life.

Has a certain sarcastic and teasing streak, likely originating from both his personality and ideology.

There’s 1 aspect remaining that I didn’t mention above because I think it’s better to analyze Hong Lu’s EGOs first, to see what else we can rescue before giving a sort of “conclusion.”

About EGOs

Before any of you ask, no, I will not analyze Land of Illusion here; it’s best reserved for the next section, about Hong Lu Base ID. Instead, the first EGO I’ll deal with is, fittingly, the first one he ever received: Roseate Desire.

Roseate Desire originates from Pink Shoes, an Abnormality that evidently is an Aberration of Lobotomy Corp.’s Red Shoes, with their shared meaning being that of a single-minded and very violent obsession that’s impossible to resist—one of the purest expressions of Lust. But while Red Shoes and its EGO are fundamentally egoistic, not wanting to share the glory and pleasure of their desire’s fulfillment, Pink Shoes and Roseate Desire are of a softer shade, spreading their overwhelming lust to as many people as possible. The difference becomes clearer when you compare Rodya’s and Ishmael’s respective obsessions: the longing to be special vs. the desire to kill the “source of all evil” in retribution for all she has done.

Applying the former logic to Hong Lu, we can conclude first that he has a desire as strong as Ishmael’s hatred for Ahab, which is quite unexpected for someone who has basically given up on life! Thankfully, the Sin resources his version of Roseate Desire costs tell us a couple of things about his “fixation”: 4 Lust and 2 Envy. The dominance of Lust is self-explanatory, so that leaves us with Envy, which I commented on in the previous section: jealousy over those who can ignore and escape their problems—those who are “free.” Yet, since Roseate Desire and Pink Shoes are characterized by a sort of collective hedonism, so is Hong Lu’s wish to escape his family. Surely such a thing will bring joy to his cut-throat siblings.

And speaking about escapism, Hong Lu’s next two EGOs are all about that, beginning with the one whose Abnormality I analyzed in one of my previous posts: Dimension Shredder.

While Wayward Passenger is an Abnormality that is clearly about the trauma inflicted by W Corp.’s method of operation, it has a secondary meaning that Project Moon uses for its EGO too: being trapped in a horrible duty, necessity, or “path” that makes the individual envious of the life and possibilities others hold. This is best seen with Outis’ Dimension Shredder due to the Envy affinity, though Hong Lu’s Pride version isn’t that far off thanks to the Sin costs: 3 Pride and 3 Gluttony. Basically, it means that Hong Lu is “lost” due to external necessity, by things he can’t control (i.e., his family), but instead of resenting it as any other person would do, he takes pride in that, in having to follow a “terrible path,” because that’s the type of person he knows he is—the kind and understanding one that sacrifices himself.

The second EGO about escapism originates from LobCorp and hence from an Abnormality I haven’t analyzed: Soda and Opened Can of WellCheers, respectively. The two come from a Korean urban legend about people being drugged through juice cans and sold to fishing boats as slaves. Needless to say, the parallels with Hong Lu’s Soda are more than obvious: an envy born from a necessity (Gluttony) that grimly (Gloom) pushed him into a role he doesn’t want. Alternatively, and considering the ending of the Abnormality’s story log in LC, it’s the fulfillment of a fantasy born of jealousy, sadness, and necessity, though that doesn’t explain the Envy affinity of the EGO. Either way, nobody can deny that Soda stands for Hong Lu’s “murdered” wish to flee his circumstances.

The next EGO luckily is from another Abnormality I analyzed some time ago: Ambling Pearl and Effervescent Corrosion. However, unlike Rodya, who keeps the Abnormality’s original meaning mostly intact (safekeeping the “pearl”/one’s meaning from the “filthy” outside), Hong Lu gives it a twist: it’s not about protecting his “life treasure,” but something else

“Faust: For instance, let’s say that Hong Lu held a belief he was certain would be an unchanging constant as he lived in the City. Or, it could be a hope for some other psychological sustainment that has supported his life. Hong Lu: …Hmm. Faust: If that support suddenly collapses in a massively shocking event that causes one to let their “ego” go, his mind would crumble, so to speak. Hong Lu: …Well, I could see that happening. [...] Hong Lu: Hm… I thought I knew, but I can’t seem to elaborate on it with words right now.” - Chapter 3: Hell’s Chicken, Hell’s Chicken.

Unlike Rodya’s desire to be special and her notorious inner conflict, which is reflected in how similar her Corrosion is to a broken Ambling Pearl, Hong Lu is much more secretive about his opinions, usually referring to his frivolous comments instead of using the great insight he has, according to Dante. Nonetheless, even if we don’t exactly know the “core belief” he holds close to his heart (though we should have a general idea at this point), we do know that his version of Effervescent Corrosion, beyond Gluttony or the desire to survive, requires Gloom. So whatever Hong Lu is hiding, it’s far from happy, as his Sin weaknesses further show after EGO usage: weak to Lust and Sloth, to love and inaction—to the idea of not protecting himself.

In a similar vein, Hong Lu’s next EGO is entirely about sadness, as it comes from Blubbering Toad, aka depression incarnated. However, Cavernous Wailing isn’t a Gloom EGO but a Sloth one, and whose Sin costs are Gloom, Sloth, and Pride. That’s to say, Hong Lu’s refusal to take action and the resulting self-pity (“A heart shaken by sorrow bursts… like this.”) are fed by his sadness, indolence, and distorted self-perception, an aggrandized mental image of himself as able to carry all his pain without problem.

“It goes like this. Any of our siblings who managed to survive on their own up to the age of thirteen in our household will probably be a-okay even if they were to be tossed out to the middle of the Outskirts! Hehe…” - Hong Lu, Chapter 20, Canto VII.

Finally, the last EGO is the newly added Lasso, which comes from Rose Hunter, and really, its Mirror Dungeon Encounter puts it the best: Rose Hunter is the one who makes sure all stories follow their natural course, their flow, and “he” is no exception; the Hunter is willing to get lost if that’s the story it must obey. Fittingly, Lasso represents the same idea of not resisting one’s “tale” or “myth,” going along with what’s written not out of indolence or apathy, but because it’s necessary, akin to the motif of the “fetters of fate,” for example. In that regard, their underlying archetype is the same as that of the Orphic Ananke, the deification of the necessity that created the universe, which can be best understood through the following aphorism: existence came to be because it exists. Or put it in a simpler manner: you must follow your nature because that’s who you are.

Hong Lu’s Lasso, in the same way as Faust’s, requires first and foremost Gluttony to work, for that’s the entire deal of the Abnormality. Then comes the Lust requirement, which implies this “work” is also done out of either love or a twisted desire, a mania for things to follow their assigned nature or role. The final Sin cost is the variable one, which for Hong Lu is Pride again, his aggrandized sense of self that drives him to fulfill his role without complaining, solely out of love and necessity.

So, with all the EGOs analyzed, we can rescue the following:

Hong Lu, more than anything, wishes to escape the situation he has been put in. He wants to be free behind all those frivolous and/or insensitive commentaries.

However, due to his upbringing, he “murdered” those wishes so to speak, and remains walking the path his family has put him by many reasons, chief among them his love for them and his distorted perception of his own self.

Thus, all that longing and yearning for freedom remains hidden, barely able to see the light of the day except in the rarest of occasions. That’s likely his “pearl,” the thing that he ultimately hides for his own survival.

About His Base ID and EGO

You know, I have always been curious about why people are so adamant about Hong Lu being depressed. No doubt he has depression at some level, but I don’t think it’s as severe as people normally think it is because his Base ID simply lacks any form of Gloom. This is in stark contrast to Sinners such as Yi Sang, Gregor, and especially Ishmael, since she has a Gloom Base EGO as well. But if such is the case, then what does Land of Illusion means, since it requires Gloom to be used?

However, I think it’s important to understand Hong Lu’s Sin spread first, his psychology in this particular possibility:

His third skill, that is, his most inward and deep trait, is Lust. This Sin placement is only shared with LCB Heathcliff, whose devotion to Catherine is quite literally a multiversal constant as per Canto VI; everything he does, he does it for Cathy. Thus, Hong Lu must have a similarly romantic or affectionate nature, and we know that he isn’t the type to stop “loving” due to the cruelty of a person; his reaction towards the attempt against his life says enough. He even tried to understand the Time Ripper at some level during TimeKilling Time.

His second skill is Sloth, an inaction that’s much shallower but no less decisive, so to speak. One can understand it as deriving from his much more encompassing Lust or Love, which is to say that Hong Lu refuses to take action or initiative in his life out of the love and understanding, in a similar manner to how LCB Faust lets her every move be commanded by the Gesellschaft thanks to her need for self-realization.

Finally, his third skill, his most outward and shallow trait, is Pride. This position is only shared with the Base IDs of Faust (again) and Sinclair, although the former is the easiest one to understand: Faust is somewhat haughty without a doubt, but not egocentric or self-absorbed by any metric; she’s just socially naive and with a great deal of knowledge that tends to ostracize her by her own volition. Pride is, after all, the de facto Sin of distorted self-perception, of thinking you are more capable than you really are.

Again, all of this tells us what we already know: the kindness of Hong Lu, his indolence born out of said kindness, and the weight he alone bears on his shoulders. We can’t even say that he has a low self-esteem unless we include in that definition a “imposing limits on who you are,” which, yes, sounds right, but it leans too much in the territory of semantics for my taste. Furthermore, Hong Lu’s strange relationship with Gloom and sadness can also be contrasted with the Sinners I mentioned before, those with Gloom and whose Cantos are available:

Yi Sang was the living stereotype of the depressed person: cold, distant, unfeeling, dead inside, etc. Whatever you name, Yi Sang likely had it.

Ishamel’s emptiness and self-destructivity were well-hidden until her Canto, during which all hell was let loose.

And Gregor is possibly one of the most realistic approaches of all, as we can see with the flashbacks of his past during Canto I. Even so, he… well, remains somewhat functional (and I’m really stretching the definition there xD)

And don’t get confused. In this case, Gloom isn’t equal to feeling sad or being traumatized by any means; every Sinner has their own share of problems, and not all have Gloom. Sinclair had his family and town massacred thanks to Kromer's obsession with him, for example, and while I don’t doubt he feels a deep sadness and regret about it, he doesn’t have Gloom in his Base ID. The same applies to Rodya, her low self-worth, and her guilt about the fate of her neighbors, lacking any sort of Gloom as well. The most extreme and recent case of this is boss Sancho, who doesn’t have any Gloom skill at all, despite her character and story being more than fitting.

Therefore, Gloom, in the straightest sense and avoiding exceptions or little quips, refers to a deep-seated hopelessness, a melancholy that devours all dreams and hopes, causing one to become completely lost in life. In such a case then, it’s not that Hong Lu isn’t sad or, damn, depressed, but that he knows how to manage such emotions so they don’t overwhelm him as they do with Gregor, Yi Sang, or Ishmael. The same likely happens with his wish to escape and his jealousy, for he seemingly knows that no life is truly a “flawless jade.”

“In a way, we’re all ‘deprived’... and that can change a lot of things. Maybe there are things that we can understand only when we’re left with nothing.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights, Canto VI.

This self-control naturally falls in line with his inclination for Pride and Lust, creating a sort of “transpersonal” point of view that allows him to curb his emotions in order to understand others. It’s quite Buddhist or Taoist, no? This kind of detachment over life I explained before, I mean. In a way, it strengthens the theory of Jia family elders treating Hong Lu as a golden child, and while he doesn’t seem to really like the idea, he resigned himself to it.

“I can't do much about what I was born with~ To them... I was a gem of a child.” - Hong Lu, Liu Association South Section 5 Uptie Story.

He renounced all the transient things in his life, all of his wishes and sadness, in order to carry out his family’s expectations: the preferred family head candidate. And what is another form to call transient things? Illusions.

Land of Illusion is the culmination of Hong Lu’s hidden sadness, his yearning to escape that will forever remain out of his reach—or at least he thinks so.

“With this there is often, to a smaller or greater extent, a savior complex, or a Messiah complex, with the secret thought that one day one will be able to save the world; the last word in philosophy, or religion, or politics, or art, or something else, will be found.” - Marie-Louise von Franz, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

Hong Lu doesn’t believe himself to be a savior, naturally. But I cannot deny that it would be very much in character for him to imagine or fantasize about a world where he doesn’t have to fulfill his family expectations, where they can all be happy. That would explain the Lust cost of Land of Illusions, as well as the weaknesses to Envy and Wrath, which are a stand-in for the rejection of his innermost wish.

But alas, at the end, life has its flaws, and there’s no way Hong Lu will raise a fist against his family. Even if his survival depends on it, Hong Lu won’t defend himself because that would mean choosing and thus losing, and there’s nothing more terrifying to the eternal child than losing things. Death is a much more merciful and tempting possibility than acting and suffering.

“The puer aeternus very often has this mature, detached attitude toward life, which is normal for old people but which he acquires prematurely—the idea that life is not everything, that the other side is valid too, that life is only part of the whole existence. [...] So before he has gone down to earth, he already has the offer of death.” - The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

In this regard, it doesn’t matter much Dante’s rewind or the actual existence of an afterlife. It’s the idea of death as a solution for a hard life, instead of confronting the problem itself, of standing up and withstand the uncertainty and pain of life.

AAt the end of his Canto, Hong Lu will have to stand up for himself and to carry on the pain. That's how a "child" becomes an "adult," or better said, an actual family head.

Post-Commentary

... Yeah.

To be honest, I don't know where the inspiration behind came for this. It just fell on me one day, like Faust's theory. But where I'm confident in that one, I'm completely lost in this post, especially because while the conclusion seems right (standing up to the abuse and expectations coming from one's family), the reasoning is somewhat flimsy? I don't know. I have the feeling that I'm retreating Canto VII's (and even Canto III's) story and themes somehow, though the similarities may be the reason of why Xinchun was introduced, maybe. That would make Don's confusion funnier xD

The final mentions of the puer aeternus (similar to the Peter Pan syndrome, but not quite) are due to how Hong Lu's character screamed "puer" to me, surpassing every other one. The fact his summary highlighted that he is a "bachelor" brought to mind this little quote of Marie-Louise's books:

“The two typical disturbances of a man wh ohas an outstanding mother complex are, as Jung points out, homosexuality and Don Juanism.”

If a man gets around too frequently, he'll obviously not get married. If he's gay, then even less reason to do so or look at women. In this case, the idea is not about the actual sexual orientation of Hong Lu (or the accuracy of the book's assessment), and more about highlighting his refusal to commit.

Also, as a funny note, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus has a fragment that's really similar to, from what I've gathered, the warnings the monks gave to the Stone at the beginning. Since the book also deals with the case of Saint-Exupéry and The Little Prince, there may also be something interesting regarding Demian (Limbus', not Hesse's).

Anyway, and repeating myself, if you have any other opinion or thought you want to share, feel free to do so! Similarly, if you notice any orthographical or grammatical error, let me know. It's difficult to see them, even when using several online tools...

[wexhappyxfew]

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

For Annie and Brady please!!! I adore them and your writing!

HI ANON!!!! thank you so much for stopping by the askbox!! greatly appreciated, especially when it is annie and brady!! :) these two have my heart and deserve all the best things life has to offer. please enjoy this take on the prompt and these two just being so soft on each other (and brady well....brady being BOLD). lmao! ENJOYYYY!!! thank you for all the love on them! :D

you in my A-2

(a/n): partially inspired by the prompt, partially by an ask i got earlier. just....annie x brady getting more and more comfortable and slowly realizing things about this war that they didn't realize earlier. them. them them them. i need them to be the happiest they can be when this is all done :')

Ever since that first night in the Stalag that she'd crawled into the bunk with Brady, it had become a nightly thing that she'd evacuate by the time morning came, but yearned for with each passing day.

Where it was just the two of them, side by side, curled into one another's bodies, their eyes the only innocent thing held between one another in this horrid place.

Sometimes they'd talk, whispering quietly between another about random things, about some of the sad things of the world, about their lives back home that would be entirely different if they ever got out of here. Sometimes they'd just stare at each other, with what little light there was from the moon outside or the lights from the guard huts outside.

And by that point, Brady would usually thread his fingers into her somewhat tangled hair and she'd apologize for something she could hardly control and he'd whisper all the sweet things that it was fine, he just wanted to be there with her. And that usually lent to her fingertips brushing against his stubbled cheeks, her pointer finger tracing all those stress lines that popped out when it was just them, or she'd let her hands dip into his hair and brush it back in a calming motion that usually got him right to sleep.

And so by morning, when she was back in her bunk, curled in her blanket, looking across the way as people would start moving about, waking up, rubbing their eyes, yawning and stretching, she'd meet Brady's gaze from across the room and they'd share that silent look that meant more than whatever words either of them would manage to find.

It never went past that - the longing looks, the occasional forehead kiss. Maybe they were both scared to go over that line they'd drawn. That maybe if there was anything more, they'd lose it just as quick.

As Annie slid out of her bunk and crossed the small room towards where Brady was, she couldn't help but feel her heart bit a little faster just at the sight of him asleep there - his face scrunched up in a way that made her heart ache. The visible stress on his face even in his sleep made her want to pull him right into her arms and tell him over and over that everything would be okay, that they'd make it out, that she was okay beyond anything. Because he cared so much, that he stopped taking care of himself sometimes. And she always would pick up what pieces were lost and stitch them back together again and hold him in the darkness.

As she approached, she softly bit back her lip and reached out to prod him awake, which always made her feel guilty for doing such a thing, but he welcomed it and told her it was fine, despite her want to make sure he got a full nights sleep. Brady woke with a shake awake and turned to look towards her and smiled softly in the darkness.

"Hey," he whispered, before opening up the blanket, "hop in." Annie watched him for a moment, before her cheeks warmed - they always did when he looked at her like that - and she slid in beside him and let him engulf her in a mixture of his arms and blanket.

The second she felt her body pressed against his in the cocoon of blankets and warmth, her worries were stripped away, as they normally always were. She curled herself against the heat from his neck, her body begging for some sort of comfort in all of this, as he pressed a kiss against her temple, something he'd grown more akin to recently it seemed. It's not that they didn't want people to see them, it was more of the fact that they finally were back with each other and trying to keep things like they had been back at Thorpe Abbotts - friendly, maybe dancing the line of flirting but not nothing more. But here at the Stalag, they were anything but. And they both seemed to recognize that.

"You doing okay?" he whispered softly against her ear as she cuddled further into him the best she could and sighed, "That cold finally going away?" She nodded against him.

"Yeah," she whispered, "just a little bit of a stuffy nose, but can't complain. How about you?" She leaned back from him, from his warmth and smiled at him as she leaned a hand up against her head. Reaching forward, she ran her hands through his hair and watched a sense of calm wash over his form for a minute as she did so. And it did settle Annie's own nerves and worry for Brady that she constantly endured day in and day out. She always worried about him and seemed, but it was always mutual for the two of them.

"Okay," he said quietly, before the corner of his lip turned upward, "better now that you're here, I gotta admit." Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head before holding his gaze in her own.

"You're too sweet on me, John Brady." she whispered softly to him, cupping his cheek for a minute and brushing her thumb across his cheek as she grinned at him with her rosy cheeks. Brady watched her, that slightly far-off look in his eyes, a hint of a smile. He grinned.

"You deserve it, Annie," he whispered back to her, reaching up his own hand and brushing his fingers against her warm cheek and grinning, "that and you blush red like a tomato."

"You a fan of that?" she whispered back quickly with a laugh and she watched him bit his lip and smirk.

"I'd say I'm a big fan of that," he whispered back, "'specially when you look like this." Annie watched him - she could probably be covered in mud and he'd be staring at the way he currently was. And now, stuck in a Stalag camp, looking slightly malnourished and sickly, with slightly matted hair and sunken in eyes and he still looked at her like that and said things like that.

"I could say much of the same," she whispered back to him, turning her head slightly to nuzzle into his hand against her cheek, "you look cute when you blush." John Brady did in fact blush when she said that, even though she couldn't even really see much of his face in that darkness of the room. She grinned and then leaned forward and cuddled into his neck again, Brady chuckling the slightest bit as he curled into her as well.

"You're so warm." Annie whispered against his neck as the rumble from his throat echoed in her ear and made her grin like a loon, "You're like a personal blanket." That got him to chuckle quietly again as her lips danced near her ear and she could practically hear each and every breath that left his lips - a mixture of knowing he was alive and right there next to her - and even more so; knowing that all they were in that moment right now were two people dying for an ounce of comfort in this world.

"Consider me your personal blanket," he whispered back as his lips continued to ghost over her ears, "I was thinking….." Annie listened to him trail off and gulped for a moment as his breath trembled and his heart pounded.

"I'd give anything if it was me and you back at Thorpe Abbotts, just you in my A-2 jacket and nothing else." he whispered and her body grew hot - whether from his soft, husky voice in her ear or the way his hands had found their way underneath her clothes, fingertips grazing her bare back, traversing her battered and hot skin, her thoughts were suddenly in a blunder and all she could think about well was….that. Annie pulled back from her spot curled against his neck and met his gaze.

"Just your A-2?" she whispered softly, looking at him shyly from underneath her eyelashes, a small smile growing on her face as a look dawned on his features that almost seemed like he hadn't meant to let that slip from his lips, but it had, "What does that mean for you?" Brady watched her, the look in his eyes matching the touch of his fingertips on her skin and she suddenly couldn't focus on anything else but that gentle touch of his fingertips. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against her forehead again with that tender touch.

"You can have me anyway you want me." he whispered against her forehead and her eyes instinctively shut as he pressed up against her and she overwhelmed with him. His presence, his touch, the way he held her so gently and close to him, but with a level of protectiveness and care that made her know that this was safe, that she was safe, just like this.

Annie reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly running her fingers up into his hair as his head fell to the inside of her neck and he pulled her close, like a warm, tender hug that you never wanted to pull away from. Gleefully his hands raced along her bare back as she curled against him, feeling the way his hands explored underneath her coat and wooly top, dancing across her skin and making her feel things she hadn't quite felt in some time.

"Can I tell you something?" Annie whispered softly to him, rubbing slowly again through his hair as he sighed against her.

"What is it?" Annie listened to his heartbeat for a moment before blinking.

"This is the safest I've felt in years." And to even say a statement like that, in a place like this was ironic even in it of itself. She hadn't even felt the safest at home, a place that was supposed to be safe. No, no, she felt safest in the arms and embrace of someone she had only met a couple of months ago and had proved himself to be more of a home to her beyond anything.

"With me?" Annie nodded against him.

"Right here." she whispered back to him, "You and me." His grip didn't loosen, he only held her tighter and it seemed in that moment, the realization and the weight of whatever was going on between them seemed to hit. Her truth spilling from her lips quietly into his body, his grip tightening, their bodies pressed against one another in a way that should've felt foreign. Brady seemed to want to say something, she could tell, but when he stayed quiet and instead pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, she didn't question it. Because whatever they had here was okay for right now.

"I feel safe with you too, Annie." he whispered back and Annie was convinced even she wasn't so comfy, that she wasn't sure what she would've done if they'd been looking right at each other, inches apart. For now, she cuddled closer to him, enjoying his hands on her stomach and his lips near her ear, their soft breaths, mixing into deep slumber as they laid in each other's embraces until the world went quiet.

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[midnightwind]

you know what I do have one complaint

what do you Mean when you finish Lucanis' big quest and he goes "I have better plans for my evening" that wasn't him implying a romantic dinner or a date afterwards why the fuck did that go nowhere we just saved his grandmother and stopped his cousin from handing over the entire city to an evil mage and he became First Talon which means he inherits the Gigantic Fucking Mansion with it's own Guesthouse and Opera House and all it culminates to is him drinking coffee back at the Lighthouse going "damn, that was crazy" they set it up perfectly-

[sysig]

Special Counseling (Patreon)

[seri-tonin]

One of these days I'll make an animatic of dazai and oda to the old gospel choir, mark my words

[sanstropfremir]

TOHO SPIRITED AWAY?? PLS GIVE ME THE DEETS

oh it was soooooooooo good i'm so happy i got a chance to see it!!! gorgeous design all around, there was no standout elements bc everything fit so well together. all the spirits + magical elements were done with traditional (japanese and western) style puppetry, so everything was articulated and manipulated by an operator, which had this really wonderful almost youth theatre vibe. a lot of times with shows that involve puppets, they'll try to make the puppets as advanced as possible to not make them 'childish' (see: war horse), but for something that's based heavily in folklore and IS a children's story, to me the only logical sense is to emphasize that particular angle. the puppets were also incredible, very well made and sooo accurate to the movie??? like impressively accurate. my faves were probably kamaji and haku? kamaji's six extra arms were each operated by a separate person who had one hand operating the elbow and one hand as the actual hand, so all eight hands were able to do everything, which mean there was some REALLY incredible choreography of just. all the stuff that he was doing, but also when he got up and walked it was soooooooo cool. and haku!!! he had two puppets actually, one 'full size' that was a big long foam articulated body that took i think four puppeteers, and there was a tiny haku that they used for the flying scenes that was basically just a little head and a ....idk what the actual technical term is but it was basically just a wind sock as the body on a big long pole so the puppeteer could essentially move him like you would a big ribbon! the scene were he first transforms and flies off was sooo pretty, the actor haku did a lil setup to a GORGEOUS spinning jump and when he landed he ducked down behind some of the chorus members and as he disappeared the tiny ribbon haku shot up from the same spot and started looping around.......... actual magic. also wow the actor playing haku was so pretty. and very tall. which i did not notice until the very end. i would not be suprised if he had ballet training bc tall and he had the ballet dancer chin/head posture. also the actor playing lin (also doublecast as chihiro's mom) was crazy hot. just so unbelievably hot. anyways. speaking of casting: noface as a popping dancer. UNREAL and incredible galaxy brained choice. he had a solo while they did a set change and WOW. spooky and gorgeous and also weirdly welcoming? really excellent job of embodying a sympathetic physicality that made it understandable why chihiro would let him in to the bath house in the first place. also for the curtain call he put the mask on the back of his head and literally did the bows backwards. insane. my ONLY complaint is that i didn't love noface's giant form, but that's mostly because years and years ago i saw a (different) puppet show with a grim reaper character that was very similar to giant noface (the telescoping neck + large body) and i literally thought at the time 'if you were going to do puppet noface that is exactly how you should do it', so 1) expectations 2) i'm pretty sure that version was done using quite a sophisticated extending mechanism, which would be antithetical to the rest of the puppets in the show, and 3) this giant noface was VERY big (probably at least 10-15 feet across? he was at least eight puppeteers with the original actor as the mask) so the logistics would not have worked. regardless. it is a very small complaint that literally no one else would have had unless they had seen the same show that i did in like. 2015. costumes were all unreal, the set was phenomenal; it actually took me WELL over an hour to figure out that the set literally stayed the same the entire time, it was just being rotated (it was on a turntable) and redressed + had a couple balconies flown in. also live orchestra?? in the set??????? i didnt even know they were THERE they had them behind a scrim on an upper level platform in the back and they pulled it up for curtain call and there was like. 15 ppl sitting back there????

ok but if i had to pick ONE thing that was my favourite, it would be that ALL the living things were played by someone alive. i know that sounds obvious, especialy for like. the dancing vases and the frog and the soot sprites, but even the PLANTS were puppets in their own way. like the hydrangea bushes that chihiro hides in at the beginning and the flower field that she and haku run through were done with chorus members wearing these beautiful flower head/chest/arm pieces. even the stone guardians at the tunnel at the beginning of the play were actors. it really underscored the magic of everything to have all the life be actually alive.

[vendettavalor]

"My story is one of endless tragedy. Grief and loss are all I have ever known and all I ever will know. This I have made peace with. Death follows me like a shadow, collecting the souls which I reap in the name of justice. And when it comes my time to fall to his scythe, it will be a well-deserved death with no meaning and no honor, for I know that I died a long before my heart will have stopped. I ask for no funeral. My only wish is that before my final hour, all that I have done to earn my damnation will have spared even one from sharing my fate while living. That will be all I need to rest in peace - even surrounded by the flames of Hell."

[rosa-leigh]

"Here is the start, to an endless battle of wills...

To change personal circumstance, an armed Ares- fly far from that hill.

Despite his namesake, he holds his breath back.

Knowing very well, he will be the last

To sleep. The mighty Ares, stands tall

Over mountains and cities, yet begins to crawl

The foe, defeat him he must

But ares, betrays his own bloodlust.

His nature cries, his birthright lies

The looking glass shines back, the mighty Ares,

He cries.

-

[aquablues-archive]

ALSO . OMG STORY FOR FRIENDS THAT DONT FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM I ALMOST DJDNY MEET HER BC I ACCIDENTALLY GOT IN LINE FOR YHE KESHI CONCERT WITHOUT KNOWING

[hjskdkldlajskx]