#idk im just. im happy to see him in places i would never expect and im proud that hes thriving

[sea-buns]

ChilledChaos in MCC is maybe the most bizarre crossover that I've ever seen from this man in the literal decade that I've been watching him and I am so excited

My guy relearns minecraft every time he plays it. Every session of it is like watching a newly born dear learn to walk and discover guns in the same moment

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[binniesbooks]

HI FAYEEE hruuu?!?! Missed requesting fics from u uheheeu. so ermmm i watched the new txt vlog in us and holy shithffj huening got so fucking buffed rn and im legit having a huening brainrot rn😭

Soo if u dont mind, may i request a dom!hueningkai x sub!readerrr

Scenario is reader and hueningkai are only together for a few months. The boys and you went to a bar to drink and the members teased kai for being so obsessed with reader and like a "perv" type? is that what u call it IDK and reader knows kai as a like very shy type boy so its kinda hard to believe. BUT, when they get home, huening snapped and proved that he's not innocent and shit. She didint knew that huening got so strong and buff. (rest is yours to write:))

Idk if this is good enough but feel free to ignore this if u get uncomfortable with my request!!

• SWEET LIES

HK 002 .F22 2024

wc 3k

pairings slightdom!Kai x subfem!reader

warnings safe sex, slight dom heuning kai, choking, oral (f receiving), marking, spanking (+ anything else I missed)

faye's note I didn't actually expect that someone would miss requesting from me??? 😖❤️ Sorry, this took me so long to finish this too ☹️☹️ but yesss! Buff Kai! Fuck fuck fuck 🙂‍↕️

p.s. I just got home again from uni, immediately pulling out my phone to post this lolololol

It had only been five months since you started dating Heuning Kai, and each day felt like a new adventure. His smile was infectious, and his laughter was a melody that lingered long after conversations ended.

He's a sweet guy, not so shy but not so laid back. In public, he was charming, the boy-next-door type who could melt your heart with just a glance. To anyone else, including you, he seemed innocent—perhaps even a little shy.

"Kai, do you mind going with me to the grocery store after class? I've run out of stocks." You leaned a bit, whispering to your seatmate—Kai, your boyfriend.

Kai glanced back at you, giving you a reassuring smile.

"Sure, let's go later," he said, patting your head.

Eyes were always watching you. Inside the school premises, on your morning walks, in the grocery—anywhere.

You could only smile to yourself, because who wouldn't? Kai, the famous and versatile band member of your campus, started dating you. He is known to be shy among others, therefore people were shocked to see you two dating.

You held his hand, walking side by side, squeezing it thrice, silently signaling the "I love you" unknown to him.

Kai pays for your groceries most of the time. He never lets you spend a single cent, even when you insist. Therefore to at least give back to him, you often visit him with groceries and gifts too. Because even though you're independent, you feel bad that he was the only one who was spending money.

Your take on dating? 50-50.

But these days, Kai started giving you expensive gifts. He has been giving you perfumes, jewelry, clothes—anything that costs a fortune because of its brand name.

Kai is a sweet boy. The sweet and gentle type of boyfriend. Takes you on cute picnic dates to entertaining arcade ones. Kisses the top of your head, and your forehead, and intertwines your fingers. Sings a song for you, serenading you when you're sulky. --- you couldn't ask for more.

So when he invited you to one of his friends's parties, you gladly obliged.

"Y/n, do you wanna go with me to the party tomorrow night? I also want my hyungs to see you in person," he asked on one of your usual Friday movie nights.

"Mhm! Sure!" Of course, you're more than happy to go with him. Your heart flutters with the thought that he will finally introduce you to his friends.

"Kai, do you wanna change places tonight? I'll sleep on the couch, take the bed," you suggested. It is because even though Kai sleeps at your place, he never sleeps beside you. He always takes the couch. It's not like he doesn't want to, he just thought that you might not like it. But you, on the other hand, think that your boyfriend is just too pure and cute, so you never ask him to sleep beside you.

"No, no! I'm okay here on the couch. Please take the bed." Kai mutters as he pulls you closer, hugging you tight and planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Are you sure? You can take the bed tonight. I don't mind."

"No, you take it. And have a good rest, pumpkin. I don't want you to have a sore body when you wake up the next morning," he says.

"'M'kay..." you muttered.

"I love you, pumpkin," he whispers.

"I love you, Kai." You pulled away and stared at him for a while. Kai's gaze drops down to your lips as he gulps. It didn't escape your sight, you felt your heart thump a little harder. Is it bad that you want to kiss him too?

He quickly averts his gaze, pulling the pillow towards his body. "Goodnight, pretty. Sleep tight, yeah?" He smiled at you as he laid down on the couch. He watched you trudge towards your bedroom, grunting when he heard the soft thud of the wooden door.

Kai drapes his arm over his eyes, gently shoving another pillow on his lower half.

The atmosphere was electric when you arrived at the bar the next night. The dimly lit space echoed with laughter and music, a vibrant backdrop to the chaotic energy of his friends.

You felt a thrill in your chest, happy to be part of his world, to finally meet his friends. "Hyung, this is y/n, my girlfriend." Kai proudly introduced you to his friends.

You waved your hand and meekly muttered a soft hi.

"Are you sure about Kai?" one of them asked with a playful tone. He's tall, but among the five of them, you can tell he's the shortest.

"Hyunggg!" Kai pouts.

"Hey, don't be like that!" A tall and fair-skinned guy chimes. "My name is Soobin, you can just call me Bin. Nice to meet you," he added as he reached out his hand.

You smiled at him and shook his hand. "This guy is Taehyun, don't mind his comments, you won't predict anything that comes out of his mouth," Soobin chuckles, emitting laughter from the other.

"Hi pretty, I'm Yeonjun, you can call me Jjun." You might be a little judgmental, but you think he's a womanizer. Just by how he winks at you—not to mention his wink isn't perfect, both eyelids closing—and also with the aura he's giving off.

"I know what you're thinking. Yeonjun Hyung is really a womanizer," the long-haired guy cackled, receiving some scolding stare and a swat on the shoulder from the Yeonjun guy.

You sweetly smiled at them as Kai pulled you closer to himself and planted a kiss on your temple. His hand almost squeezes your side as he stays silent with only a smile plastered on his face.

"Oww!" The long-haired guy dramatically cries, making you smile. His group of friends are really different from each other, yet there's something that makes them similar.

"I'm Beomgyu, by the way," he finally adds.

"Nice to meet you guys."

As the night wore on, stories poured out—a mix of warmth, and playful banter, and teasing.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he? ”One of his friends, Taehyun, said teasingly, nudging you with a grin. You nodded enthusiastically, believing in the simplicity of your love, as you glanced at Kai who has been laughing with Beomgyu. You haven't seen this side of him yet, and it makes your heart swell. He looks so comfortable with the other boys to the point that he laughs to his heart's content.

Yet as they sipped their drinks, the tone shifted slightly. “But you know he has a possessive side, right?”Soobin, with a playful wink, chimed in. The words sent a flicker of confusion through you. You couldn’t imagine Kai being anything but sweet and loving.

“No way, you guys are just kidding! He's actually gentle,” you laughed, waving the comments away. Kai caught your gaze and smiled, his boyish charm pulling at your heartstrings.

"See?" you motioned, the two older guys shrugging with a wide grin.

The night continued, filled with games and laughter, but the whispers about his “other side” lingered in the back of your mind.

You returned home, feeling conflicted but convinced of your own truth.

Once inside your apartment, you were greeted by the comforting silence of solitude. But the peace was short-lived. Just as you began to relax, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind you. It was Kai, his presence instantly filling the space with warmth. The guys actually insisted Kai to escort you home as you were already tipsy.

“Hey, I'll be on the couch, okay? Just tell me if you need anything,” he said softly, stepping closer. The way he looked at you made your heart race, but memories of the night still gnawed at your thoughts.

“I had a great time tonight!” You said, forcing a bright smile. “Your friends are… different.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Different? How?”

You hesitated, weighing how to voice what was bothering you. But the flicker of darkness in his gaze made you reconsider. “They just said you have a possessive side.”

His expression shifted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, did they?” He mused, stepping even closer until your back met the wall, the playful tension rising between you.

"But I told them you're just... cute... and gentle... aren't you?" Your fingers fiddled on the silver necklace dangling on his chest.

Yet he moved faster than you could comprehend. With a swift motion, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground, making you sit on the drawer just beside your bedroom door, as he pressed against you. There was an intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Let me show you what they mean,” he whispered, a low tone that sent your thoughts spinning. In that moment, the innocence you had associated with him faded into a sultry gaze that spoke volumes.

You wanted to protest, to argue that he was cute, sweet Kai. But as his lips crashed onto yours, all coherent thoughts vanished. Every ounce of confidence you had melted away, and you felt the heat pooling between you, igniting an undeniable spark.

"K-kai..." is the only thing you were able to whisper when he pulled away for a while and lips came back crashing against yours once again. You tugged at his shirt, making sure to keep yourself grounded from everything that's happening. His kisses traveled down your neck, his hands wrapping around your back, slowly unzipping your dress.

"K-kai, please..." Kai felt his cock throbbed from your strained begging voice.

It stirred something inside him. He gently pulled down the flimsy clothing that barely covered your thighs earlier, discarding it on the floor, and leaving you in your bra and panties.

Your hands quickly flew, covering your chest as you turned beet red when he stepped back a little to admire your naked figure. His gaze felt like a black hole sucking you in. "Don't let Yeonjun hyung go anywhere near you, hm?" he warns, his hand reaching out to your face, gently brushing your cheek. "I know him too well."

And it sinks in. The question of why Kai pulled you closer to himself earlier and why he was almost squeezing your side has now been answered. You nodded, your eyes looking for praise from him. And then he moves back closer to you, prying your hands off your chest as he lifts you up and marches his way to your bedroom.

"I'm giving you the chance to stop me right now, pumpkin. I don't want our relationship to go to waste just because of a drunken mistake," he sighs, his huge figure hovering above you.

You shook your head, which made Kai shut his eyes. It seems like he was trying to calm himself.

"Pumpkin-"

"Don't stop, Kai. I need you... Please..." you whined, biting down on your lower lip. It was Kai's last straw—you begging.

He moved with such dominance, guiding the pace and intensity of the moment, the way he manhandled you filled you with a mix of excitement and exhilaration. You were at his mercy, and instead of fear, an overwhelming sense of trust washed over you.

He pulls away, "You're not gonna regret this?" he asked while removing his shirt.

It's not a secret that Kai has a big body build, given that he has a huge frame. But you're not expecting this from him, the guy in front of you is so buff that you almost refuse to believe he's Kai.

He chuckled when he saw your reaction. "Should I pick your jaw from the floor, pumpkin?"

Kai slides his hand under your head before he grabs your hand and lets you touch his firm chest. "Last chance to answer. Are you sure about this?"

"Please Kai. I've been wanting to touch you. To kiss you. To make love with you." Your eyes are glossy from how happy you are. No doubt, he's really a loving and caring boyfriend.

This time, you pulled him, kissing him in the most gentle, loving, and emotional way. His soft lips felt like a cloud on yours. His warm tongue ignites a pit of fire in your stomach. His teeth biting and grazing your lips made you reeling. He pulled away with a string of saliva hanging.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, planting another soft kiss on your forehead. However, you could feel the possessiveness he’d hinted at—the way he claimed you as his, how he sought to leave his marks on your neck and chest. You were a hundred percent sure it would leave marks for a couple of days.

He was a force, the kind of passionate energy you never knew you craved. His touches were both gentle and commanding, and soon you surrendered to the pleasure, allowing him to take control. You don't mind his dominance, right? If anything, you loved it—submitting to your buff boyfriend who's taking the lead.

Your soft mewls and moans made his cock throb once again. And it looks like he's not leaving any part of your body taken for granted.

Your lips were swollen from his kisses. Neck and shoulders littered with hickeys. The soft skin of your arm is filled with love bites. Your mounds slicked with his saliva. Your waist was marked by the tight grip of his hand. Your ass cheeks are red with his spanking. Your plush thighs were marked with how his fingernails dug at your skin. Your gummy walls are clenching on his tongue.

"Kai... K-kai... Hah.. ahh..." You're spent. Yet you're loving how his slimy tongue explored your insides. You gripped his hair, and your soft sobs of pleasure resonated within the enclosure of your room.

He carefully pulled away, licking his lips as he locked his gaze with you. "Wanna know, I don't want to share the same bed with you, pumpkin? Why don't I want to use your room?" Kai tilted his head sideways with a grin.

"W-why?" you pant.

"I can't let you hear me when I touch myself at night. I can't let you see me fuck my fist imagining it's yours. I can't sleep in your room or else I might end up cumming and soiling your bed," he chuckled, his eyes full of desire.

"Kai," you whimpered at the thought as you closed your eyes, imagining everything he just confessed.

"Maybe my friends were right after all, hm?" His fingers started prodding on your entrance. "Maybe I wasn't as innocent as you think, pumpkin. I'm sorry," he mutters, slowly pushing his digits in.

"F-fuck ahh... H-hah, Kai!" You held his wrist as you let out whiny moans. His tongue already made you see a glimpse of heaven. His fingers would totally let you fully see what heaven looks like. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your moans until you ended up cumming on his fingers without warning.

Too embarrassed, you covered your eyes as you saw his glistening fingers. Sticky and wet at the same time. You heard him let out a soft chuckle before a moan came from him.

You quickly open your eyes, only to him deliciously sucking his fingers with his eyes closed.

"K-kai that's dirty!" You quickly got up to stop him, but he only pulled your thighs and raised them up. Your ass now lifted from the bed as your back was gently bent. He dipped his head down on your sopping cunt as he slurped on your dripping cunt.

It felt dirty. Nasty, even. Yet Kai seems to enjoy eating you out. His eyes filled with lust when he opened them, looking at you as if you were his prey.

"D-do you mind if I p-put it on you?" you stuttered, suggesting to put the condom on him for him.

Kai hums. You quickly reached above, frantically pulling the drawers to grab the pack of condoms you bought three months ago, thinking you were gonna get laid.

He pulled his pants off, his girthy cock slapping on his abdomen, tip leaking from pre-cum.

Kai winces when you slowly roll the condom on his hard cock. The red tip looked as if it was gonna burst anytime. His hand clamped on his mouth as he watched you wrap him up, muffling any noise.

Kai sat on the bed, leaning on the headboard just beside you. "Take a seat," he motioned, tapping his lap.

As a good girlfriend, you gladly obliged. Straddling him and lifting your waist, sinking slowly on his erect cock.

Kai threw his head back, grunting at the tight feeling, gripping your waist and landing a spank on your still red ass. Yelping in pleasure, you forced all the way down, letting him fill your insides with his thickness. You buried your face on his neck as he rubbed your back, cooing at you.

"You're so good to me, baby, so good," he whispers.

He lets you feel the stretch for a little while before slowly bucking his hips up, thrusting agonizingly slow in you. His thrusts start slow and gradually add force and speed.

"Am I still innocent, pumpkin?" He asked as he pushed you away from his body, wrapping his hand around your neck, lightly squeezing it.

"Still your innocent and gentle Kai? Hm?" he taunts, even if you can't form any words to say.

Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air as he tightens his grip on your neck. You tried keeping your body still, holding on both of his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're sexy, h-hah..." he grunts. Your mind is hazy with his words and actions. It felt too much, that you started drooling.

"K-kai... B-baby..." Your words aren't almost heard as you were gasping for air.

"Let's do this often, yeah?" Kai suggested as he rams his cock inside your gummy walls.

@binniesbooks 2024

[suiana]

Hiiiii :3

I just bing read all of your stuff and to be honest, the student council president totally has my heart <33

Like, omg?? Imagine having the top student at your school wrapped around your finger?? The idea makes me so happy. Like, i can imagine if you start/ are in a club he'd probably give whatever funding you asked for (but idk if he would be too jealous to let you be in one tho, he might make it disband to have you all to himself. Or not! Lemme know what you think)

also i luv your work, im so excited to see what you write this year 💛💛💛

(yandere! student council president x gn! club leader reader)

"man there's no one coming..."

"then i suppose i am simply invisible, hm?"

you sigh, turning your head to stare at the student council president beside you. his face displays a gentle smile, but you know it is nothing more than a facade.

"you're different. you follow me around everywhere."

you mumble, groaning as you bury your face in your arms. that's right, he did follow you around wherever you went. said something like how he needs to keep an eye on you or something...

seriously, he might've been the reason your club has no people now! you know how scary he can get towards others. but he wouldn't do that, right? he's not that crazy... plus he's the one who approved of your club in the first place! he wouldn't do something like that! erm actually ☝️🤓

"yeah but that's only because i need to make sure that you're safe..."

he hums, caressing the back of your head with a tender hand. you only grumble in response to his words, finding no comfort in his touch.

after all, your club was on the verge of disbandment just a month after it got approved. initially, the club had lots of members, all coming to each club session. but as the weeks went by the numbers slowly dwindled and now you're left with no one. well, apart from the damned student council president of course.

you had always wanted a club. but now that you had one it was on the verge of disbanding? how could you feel happy?

"ugh safe from what? there's literally no one around me to even talk to now..."

"hm..."

he hums while watching you grumble to yourself, resisting the urge to smile. why? because it was precisely his plan to isolate you from others. but he wouldn't want to do it in such an obvious way, no not at all! you'd hate him!

instead he played the long game, agreeing to your silly little idea of starting your own club. at first he didn't want to agree. why start your own club when you could join him? you could be like, his honorary assistant or something. besides, being around others would only poison you. they're filthy pests.

but then he saw the way your eyes twinkled at the very idea of having your own club and... he decided to indulge you a little. you were just way too cute to reject!

he had expected maybe one or two people to be interested in your club but who would've known that your idea would've interested half of the school population? he was horrified. he could tolerate a small group of friends but half the school cohort?

so he did what any reasonable person would do and... slowly destroyed your club. come on, what else could a man in love do when his love was being threatened? of course he had to get rid of the competition. you could've fallen for one of your club members if he had just stood by and allowed such treachery to occur!

threatening your club members, forcing them to quit... it was all necessary to ensure you'd never leave him. not like you'd ever want to leave him anyway. he made sure you wouldn't have any hard evidence of him doing anything to threaten your club.

i mean, he's nice and sweet, isn't he? he allowed you to start a club, joined each and every one of your sessions, and even helped you advertise your club! how could you ever hate him?

really, he's just a nice president who's a little bit touchy, is all :) he's doing all this to protect you! so when will you realize that the presence of other people will do you no good?

[tldix]

Do i wanna know?

summary: fleeing to college after catching your highschool sweetheart cheating, you find yourself right back in your home town 4 years later. your degree almost complete & your sanity slowly slipping, you find solace in the one place you know you shouldn’t. your dads best friend. Dean Winchester.

word count: idk something embarrassingly long probably🫣

warnings : mature 18+, dbf, AU, yearning AF, spn content, grumpy/sunshine ish?? idk (im trying to include most of the main characters from spn, again AU)

a/n: this is my 2nd ever fic so pls be nice 😔 (& lmk your thoughts, any ideas you may want added) i have every intention of making this a series, if you wanna be added to my tag list just comment ����🏼 with alllll this being said i hope you enjoy 🥲

The airport was alive with chaos—families reuniting, announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of luggage wheels against tiled floors. you adjusted the strap of your duffel bag & guitar case as you took a steadying breath as you followed the crowd toward baggage claim.

It had been months since you last came home, and even longer since you had really felt at home. College had consumed you, with its never-ending stream of exams, late-night study sessions, and endless cups of cheap coffee. Now, with your degree in psychology just a semester away, the weight of expectations pressed heavier on your shoulders.

you tugged her phone from your pocket and skimmed the last text from your dad.

| see you soon kid. we can stop at Bobby’s diner on the way home. i know he’d be over the moon to see you, bet you’re sick of all that tofu & books. don’t forget your still my daughter- not some Freud-loving brainiac”

you stifle a giggle as you head towards the parking lot, eyes skimming for the old green dodge your dad refuses to part with. you let your thoughts drift back to a time before you left for college. when you were waitressing at Bobby’s diner, when you were still with that jackass Colter. when the world felt as if it was falling apart. you quickly shake the thoughts from your head, moving your feet along the pavement out the double doors. your eyes fall on your dads truck, he jumps out with a 9 mile smile as he runs towards you.

“dad! oh my gosh i’ve missed you”

your dad picks you up, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. you melted into his embrace, breathing in the scent of motor oil and aftershave.

“sticks, Look who’s back from the land of overpriced coffee and vegan muffins!”

“Dad, not everyone in college eats vegan muffins.” you laughed.

as your dad grabs your bags, he bombards you with questions. “how was school?” “didn’t meet another jackass like that one boy did you?” “i’m so glad you’re home now sticks, i was real tired of eating take out”

finally. this is what you were searching for. the peace feeling only your dad can seem to give you. the home feeling. you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the warm smile trying to seep through the wedges in your teeth. you glance out the window, seeing all the familiar streets & shops. the Macleod bakery, Harvelles road house, the dentist your dad would fight tooth & nail to get you into. how was Garth now? you found yourself wondering. it’s been a long time since you were home, you couldn’t be happier. for the first time in years you felt as if you had absolutely no worries. none at all, well until your dad said

“i planned you a welcome home party, more like a bbq but dean was more than happy to let us use his grill. it’s saturday if that works for you sweetheart?”

Dean Winchester had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, like an unofficial uncle who never missed a BBQ or a birthday. He and your dad, J.P., had been best friends since their teens, inseparable through thick and thin. Dean was brash, charming, and had a knack for pushing your buttons in the way only he could. you hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but the memory of his teasing smirk lingered in your mind.

“sweetheart? is that okay?”

you fumble over your words, trying to push them out & making them seem as nonchalant as possible.

“yeah uh that’s fine dad. can’t wait”

you glance up to see your dad pulling into his usual parking spot outside Bobby’s diner. Bobby was a good man, your dad’s parents weren’t around when you were born so Bobby was quick to claim you as his own granddaughter. blood or not, youre family. as you open the creaky door of your dads old truck, you find every peace of worry gone again. you practically skip to the door, tearing it open as you glance around. ‘that old man really doesn’t change shit’ you thought to yourself.

“sticks? is that really you?”

you thought you were fine, you really convinced yourself until you heard that deep baritone voice. now you felt the ache of tears pressing against your eyes. you whip your head around, eyes meeting the one & only Bobby Singer. the whole diners stopped eating & talking. honing in on the grumpy old man facade slipping from Bobby’s face. you find yourself jogging over to him, he drops the tray to the floor as he quickly envelopes you into a hug.

“Pops! it’s so good to see you”

your voice is muffled from the hold Bobby has on you, his own tears falling down his face into his flannel to mix with yours. you glance up meeting his eyes as he says

“damnit girl, i can’t believe you’re here. how was school? you back for good?”

you pull yourself away hesitantly

“i’m back for good pops. finishing out my last semester here, was hoping you still had that waitressing position open”

your eyebrows shoot up hopefully as a small smirk falls on your face, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder as he chuckles

“for you? of course.”

Bobby’s eyes finally meet your fathers, he pulls Jp into a tight hug

“hell boy why didn’t you tell me she was coming home. i’d have-“

jp chuckles as he cuts bobby off

“listen old man, you got enough going on. plus i figured a surprise would do you some good. especially a sticks shaped surprise”

hours passed as you sat & caught up with Bobby, his eyes never leaving yours. almost like he couldn’t believe you were really here. you talked about school, the waitressing job you had in California (but making sure to let Bobby know no place could compare to his). as you ate a smile never left your face, Jp & Bobby telling you stories about the 4 years you were gone. youre laughing, you’re crying. you didn’t know you could feel so many emotions just by coming home. you’re about to leave when Bobby pulls you aside. hugging you as he tells you

“sticks now listen. i know you don’t wanna hear what i’m bout to say but i also know if you hear it from anyone else you’ll lose it. Col-“

you pull away, locking eyes with Bobby

“pops please don’t-“

“wait just a second lemme finish. Colters getting married. got a baby on the way”

you felt the ground beneath your crumble. no, no, no. that couldn’t be happening. your highschool sweetheart. your first kiss, your first- well everything. sure he was mean, a tiny bit abusive but he was yours. or so you thought.

“what do you mean pops? he- he can’t be. there’s no way”

you stumble back but before you fall, bobby’s arms are around you.

“i know kiddo. i know. but hey, maybe it’s better this way huh?”

his hands are wiping the tears you didn’t realize were falling. you had so many questions, did he really love me? how could he move on? why did he never reach out? well maybe it’s because he was too busy out getting some skank pregnant. wait no you can’t think like that, she didn’t do anything to you. it wasn’t like this mystery woman was holding your heart in your hands, no that was that stupid prick Colter.

“who?”

“who what sticks?”

bobby’s eyes look too worrisome. you hate when he gives you those eyes.

“who is he marrying”

bobby sighs, suddenly finding the sticky old floorboards far more interesting than the expression that’s gunna cross your face.

“jo.”

oh that hurt, jo. jo harvelle. your childhood bestfriend. bobby’s grip tightened on you, holding you steady as you go through the waves crashing through you. anger. hurt. betrayal. your dad approaches, seeing the light leave your eyes. he glances at Bobby, sharing a knowing look with him. he wraps his arm around, letting you bid your farewells as he lead you to the truck. as he opened the door for you, you slung yourself into the seat.

“sticks i- i’m sorry”

you wipe the rest of the tears from your face, nodding as you glance around the truck. your eyes get stuck on the polaroid of you & jo. a picture you used to cherish so deeply, but now you’d rather see it cast into the pits of hell. your dad catches what you’re eyes are lingering on as he closes your door. he makes his way around to his side, quickly grabbing the polaroid & stashing it away. he knew when you got told the news things would be different, your pain would be different. Colter was one thing, your highschool sweetheart who never lived up to the ‘sweetheart’ part. the man who made you shed more tears than you ever should’ve, the man who left you alone wondering where he was most nights when he was shacking it up at Harvelles bar, who wouldn’t answer his phone. your dad knew all this, he was the one you called when you couldn’t take it anymore. he was the one who came & picked you up from Colters parents house the night you ended things. the night you found out he cheated. 2 weeks before you left for college. your dad also knew that after you left, there wasn’t a thing he could say or do to make you come back. Jo on the other hand, she was your best friend. practically your sister. there wasn’t a weekend where Jo wasn’t at his house, in his pool, watching you & him work on cars & when you got older the one who helped you sneak those cars out. the one you called when Colter wasn’t treating you right. the one who called you when she knew Colter was at her moms bar. it felt unreal to your father, he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

The hum of tires on asphalt filled the silence as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The house looked the same—warm porch lights glowing, the familiar sight of your first car parked sideways on the side of the house. the garage open, showing the new muscle car your dad must be going nuts over. Jp killed the engine and exhaled deeply. After four years away at college, home felt both comforting and alien.

Inside, you found seemingly nothing changed. the recliner was still the same, the stacks of car manuals everywhere, the coffee cup sized rim indentions on your dads side table, the only different thing was a picture you & your dad took on the 4th of july hanging above the tv stand. you’re standing in a pair of old jean shorts, your red bikini top sneaking out the side of your old worn white t-shirt covered in motor oil. your dad has his signature blue dodgers cap on, his mechanic uniform still clinging to him. laughing right back with you as he holds his belly. Sam took the picture & you were so thankful he did. you carried yourself up to your childhood bedroom, the only thing that changed was the size of the bed. instead of the measly little twin you now were the proud owner of a queen. the sage green comforter looked like a cloud, a dream even.

you dig out a change of clothes, your toiletries & make your way to your bathroom. the peace sign poster you picked out with Jo staring menacingly at you through the reflection. you hesitate for a second before deciding to rip it down. you crumble it up, throwing it in the trash can as you run a hand through your hair. stupid. that’s how you felt. why did you think you’d come back & everything would be waiting for you like the day you left? your eyes longed for tears to fall, you glance up catching yourself in the reflection before you shake your shoulders & sigh. you rip the airport clothes off, turning on a hot shower as you slip in. you hum the tune of an AC/DC song as you lather the soap in your hands & through your hair. you’re back, regardless of how anyone else feels. your got your job back at Bobby’s, you’re finishing your degree this year. everything’s gunna work out. everything’s gunna be fine, but if that was the truth why did you feel as if something was missing?

you get out of the shower, quickly drying off as you throw on a old tank top & a pair of sweats. you towel dry your hair, glancing over to the fogged up mirror as you pull a brush through it. you throw your dirty clothes in your laundry basket as you slide on your slippers. you make your way back to your room, settling down on the bed as you open up your bag.

your dads footsteps tear you from your thoughts, you glance up as he’s carrying a beer. you take it thankfully as he settles beside you on the bed, glancing over at your guitar case.

“you still play sticks?”

you nod, as you take a swig of your beer

“i do. ain’t played as much as id like too with how busy things have been though”

your dad takes a swig of his own beer, he smiles as he says

“well after dinner i want you to play me something”

you smile & nod, you loved playing for your dad. he’s who taught you really, who gave you the guitar you lug around everywhere. you run your fingers absentmindedly across the label of the beer as you think back to the time he gave you the guitar. it was your 11th birthday, the smile he beamed down at you was something you’d never allow yourself to forget. that, that was probably your happiest memory. your dads voice interrupts your thoughts as he says

“well i’ll be out in the garage. we’ll have some company for dinner since i gotta work from home today. you need me you come find me okay sugar?”

you smile to yourself, boy was it great to have someone care so much for you. you were used to just being ignored, not making but 1 singular friend in your years of college. Ashley. she was like a girl you’d never met before, ambitious, smart, beautiful, funny. the sarcasm that girl carried was something unreal. your dad already loved her after meeting her the one singular time he flew out to visit. you plop down on your bed, pulling your phone out as you quickly press ashley’s number. she picks up after the 3rd sing yelling through the phone

“sticks! come back oh god i’ll never make it without you”

sticks? since when did ashley also call you that? what is with everyone wanting this nickname to stick? you roll your eyes at your unintentional pun

“well hello there ash i miss you too” you giggle into the phone

“but no seriously how is it? feel better being at home?”

you bite back the endless trials of emotions you went through today, choosing not to unload the disaster your life’s become in a measly 24 hours. you find yourself picking at the thread of your sweats as you offer small talk, informing her you got your job back at the diner until you graduate. her swearing she’s flying out the second the gets the chance. you giggle & talk as you glance at the clock, you realized you completely lost track of time & you were sure dinner was ready. you hang up, promising you’ll call her after your first day as you make your way downstairs, the scent of ordered in pizza catches your nose as you giggle to yourself. as your feet touch the bottom step your dad turns to you

“well there she is, cmon sticks say hello”

you walk around the doorframe as your heart catches in your throat. Dean. Winchester.

“hey Freud” he greeted, his voice low drawl “long time no see”

“Freud, really?” you arched any eyebrow, meeting his gaze. his green eyes sparkled with mischief, & that smirk — God that smirk — was firmly in place.

“Freud, Jung, whoever you kids are into these days” dean shot back, standing from his place on the couch.

your dad chuckles

“don’t mind him, he’s just mad he’s too old to understand what you’re studying”

you laugh as you shake your head

dean cuts in as he says

“oh i understand it just fine” he said as he walks up to you “it’s all about mommy issues, right?”

you snorted

“i’m studying psychology, not you dean”

your dad burst out laughing, deans smirk faltering for a moment. he gave you an exaggerated bow as he says “Touchè”

as your dad drags dean over to the table you let yourself study his features, he looked the same — rough around the edges but effortlessly put together. his hands calloused & stained in motor oil. the veins prominent as he grabs the pizza box, smiling at something your father said. you quickly averted your gaze, feeling an unwelcomed heat creep up your neck.

“so sticks you nervous bout being back?”

your dad asks

you hesitated unsure of how to answer especially after the whirlwind of emotions you had to overcome today.

“a little. it’s been awhile, you know? i’m used to being busy all the time. having my job back at Pops surely will help though”

“well you’re home now.” your dad said, his voice warm. “relax, eat something other than cafeteria food & maybe give some of your old man here some of that brainiac advice” he beams

“careful” dean adds smirking, “you might open a can of worms with that one if you ain’t careful ‘old man’ “

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that fell on your face. it felt good to be back, banter, baggage & all.

—————————————

by the time you made it to the table you were trying to decide if you could just crawl up to your room or out the window, on the latter they would definitely know something was up. i mean your dad knew, he seen it first hand all day. but dean? no. he could not & would not see you crumble over something like that. it was hard enough to try to keep the actual relationship issues from dean when it happened, he definitely didn’t need the after effects.

you decided what’s the worst that could happen, you’re in your own home. with your father, & really you were just nervous. you did not expect to see dean today, not any day before saturday really. that’s why you find yourself turning to your dad & joking

“i’m surprised the houses still stands after how long i was gone”

“barely sticks” jp jokes as he grumbles “dean here only fixed the roof last week, don’t lean on the railing. it’s a death trap”

“hey that’s quality work” dean protests before taking a bite of his pizza

“quality work” you echoed, eyeing him. “remind me not to hire you when i get my own place.”

dean grins, leaning back in his chair as he wipes the pizza sauce from his lip

“don’t worry. i charge extra for smartasses”

your dad throws him a joking glare as he gets up to fetch some beers, leaving you both alone for the first moment since youve been home. you shift in your seat as you take a bite of your pizza.

“it’s good to see you sticks” dean said, his tone softer now as he catches your eye

you look up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. a small smile fights it way to your lips as you say “you too dean”

for a fleeting moment, you felt as if something electric, & impossible to ignore flashed between you. as quick as the moment appeared it dissolved when your dad breached the door with a huge grin

“beers here”

————————-

[goldfades]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 / 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈❜𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ─ SC⁸⁷

TRACK 12 ─── LOML

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | caught in a cycle of love and heartbreak, you find yourself constantly returning to sidney crosby, the one person who promises everything but never follows through. as the years pass and the same promises echo between you, you’re left questioning if holding on is worth more than letting go

─ word count | 6.3k

─ warnings | ANGST ANGST ANGST, oh my god i teared up writing this (im on my period shut up). a rollercoaster of emotions, young love -> soulmate kinda vibe. on and off, just overall angsty (with no happy ending... its ttpd, what do u expect?) idk what else to add but like... if u need a good cry, read this

The night is colder than you remember, and the city lights are muted, softening the edges of every memory you have of this place. Pittsburgh’s skyline blurs through the frost on your windshield, each bright glow fading into the next as you pull into the parking lot of a bar you used to know so well. It’s different now—a new name, new sign, but the same chime of the bell when you push through the door, like a greeting from the past.

You used to come here all the time, back when the two of you were something. Not official, not permanent—never those things—but something more than a fling and less than a promise. He used to sit right there, at the corner booth, baseball cap pulled low and face half-hidden, and you’d slide in next to him like you belonged there. Because, for a while, you thought you did.

But now you stand there, scanning the faces, waiting to see if he’ll show. The text he sent still hangs heavy in your mind, words you could almost memorize by heart: Can we talk? I miss you. It’s always like this—a cycle you’ve danced for longer than you’d care to admit. He always says the right things, words that feel like they could anchor you in the storm of his life, but it’s always just a promise, never reality.

And that’s what scares you most.

Because this time, you don’t know if you’ll fall for it again.

───

It was summer, and everything was golden.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting shadows that danced along the edges of the makeshift hockey rink. You remember the smell of freshly cut grass, the distant hum of cicadas, and the way the air buzzed with a warmth that clung to your skin. You were barely a teenager, and the world felt infinite, stretched out before you like the blue sky above. It was one of those summer afternoons when the days felt endless and you thought you had all the time in the world.

The rink wasn’t anything special—just a patch of concrete nestled in the middle of the park, surrounded by chain-link fences and littered with the scuffs and scratches of a hundred other games. But for you, it was everything. Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “cool” and that the guys he played with wouldn’t care that you tagged along. You’d insisted on wearing his old jersey, the one that hung loose over your frame and brushed against your knees when you walked. It smelled faintly like sweat and summer afternoons, and even though it was too big, you wore it like armor.

He was already there when you arrived, leaning casually against the boards with his stick resting on his shoulder. He wore a backwards cap that made him look like an absolute douche, but you could still see the way his grin spread wide when he laughed. He was tall, at least compared to the other boys, and he had this presence about him—like he knew exactly where he belonged, and it was right there on that concrete. He radiated this easy confidence, the kind that made people naturally gravitate toward him, and you found yourself watching him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“Hey, kid, you play?” he called out as your brother introduced you to the group. His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in it that made you straighten your shoulders, determined to prove you weren’t just some tag-along.

You lifted your chin, clutching your stick a little tighter. “Yeah, I do.”

A laugh rippled through the group, and he tilted his head, an eyebrow raised in a way that seemed to dare you. “Alright, show me.”

You skated out onto the concrete, feeling the rough texture beneath your sneakers, the familiar push and glide that came as natural as breathing. You could feel the eyes on you, the judgment, the expectation that you’d stumble or falter.

But you didn’t.

You skated like you always did—like you had something to prove, even when no one was watching. You could feel the summer breeze tugging at your hair, could hear the sounds of sticks clashing, wheels spinning, and the distant shouts of kids playing in the park. The world faded into a blur of movement and sound, and for a moment, it was just you and the puck, gliding across the concrete.

When you stopped, stick planted firmly, the puck resting right where you aimed, you turned to face him. His grin had shifted into something softer, something that looked like approval. He nodded, a small movement that somehow felt like a victory, like you’d passed some unspoken test.

“You’re pretty good,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Sidney.”

You told him your name, trying to play it cool, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something that made your heart beat a little faster. You brushed it off—he was just another kid, another boy who thought he ruled the rink. But when he passed you the puck during the game, when he skated close enough that you could hear his breath, quick and heavy, you felt something shift, like the start of a story you hadn’t planned on telling.

The hours blurred together, the sun sinking lower as the sky melted into hues of orange and pink. You played until your legs ached and your cheeks hurt from smiling. He was quick, his movements sharp and precise, but he had this way of gliding past the others like he was weightless, like he’d been born on skates. And every time he sent the puck your way, you felt that rush again, that thrill of being seen, of being chosen.

At one point, when you stopped to catch your breath, he skated up beside you, close enough that you could see the way the sunlight caught in his eyes. “You should come out more often,” he said, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “We could use someone like you.”

You shrugged, pretending like you hadn’t already made up your mind. “Maybe.”

But deep down, you knew you’d come back.

And when he grinned, that slow, easy grin that made you feel like you were sharing a secret, you realized that maybe this was the start of something. Something that felt like endless summer days and the thrill of chasing after something just out of reach.

He was only a boy then, and you were only a girl with skates too big for your feet and dreams too big for your chest. But that was the thing about summer—everything felt possible. And standing there, the light catching in his hair and the warmth of his presence radiating like a sunbeam, you felt like you’d met someone who could make it all come true.

The years rolled on like they always do, slow and steady until you looked back and realized how quickly time had slipped by. What started as childhood games on concrete rinks and sticky summer nights turned into something deeper, something that felt like it could last forever.

When you were sixteen, things shifted. You’d always been friends, maybe even best friends. By then, he was already “Sid the Kid,” the local legend whose name was whispered with reverence around the rinks. But to you, he was just Sidney—the same boy who laughed with you when you scored, who always had an extra stick in his bag just in case, who stayed up late with you, lying on the cool grass, tracing constellations with his finger.

Somewhere between the late-night talks and the secret smiles, friendship turned into something more. It wasn’t a single moment; it was a thousand little ones, each building on the next until you both looked up and realized you weren’t just kids playing pretend anymore.

The first time he kissed you, it was right before his first big tournament. You’d been nervous for him, more nervous than he seemed to be. You’d walked down to the empty rink at dusk, the air cool and the sky the color of fading ink. You remember how his hand felt, warm and solid as it slipped into yours, and how he turned to you, eyes bright with something you hadn’t seen before. The kiss was tentative, like he was testing the waters, but it felt like fireworks, a spark in the night that you carried with you long after you pulled away.

From then on, you were something more—together but not quite official. You tried not to think about it too much, content with what you had. You showed up at every game, standing in the crowd with his number on your back, feeling that thrill when he’d glance your way. You’d spend the evenings together, sometimes in the rink, sometimes out by the water, stealing moments in between practices and tournaments. For a while, it was perfect.

Then, life happened.

He got drafted, and everything changed. He moved to Pittsburgh, and suddenly the boy who was always around, who could text or call at any hour, was miles away, caught up in a whirlwind of cameras, contracts, and the pressures of professional hockey. You were still in high school then, watching him from afar, cheering him on from a distance. You told yourself it was fine, that the distance didn’t matter, and that you were both still too young to worry about anything more than the present.

But even then, you could feel the space between you growing.

In his rookie year, you made the decision to move to Pittsburgh. You’d gotten into a college nearby, and when you called to tell him, he was ecstatic. You’d never forget the way his voice sounded on the phone—relieved, almost. Like he’d been waiting for you, hoping you’d make the leap. And so you did. You left your friends, your family, everything familiar to be closer to him. It felt like a grand, romantic gesture—the kind you saw in movies. But in the back of your mind, you knew it was more than that.

The first year was a whirlwind. You were in the stands for his games, holding your breath every time he took a shot, cheering louder than anyone when he scored. Off the ice, it felt like the two of you were creating a life together, slowly but surely. You moved in together, and even though his schedule was insane—practices, games, interviews—there were still those quiet moments.

Mornings when you’d wake up to him already gone, but with a note on the counter that read, I’ll be back soon. Evenings when he’d come home exhausted but would pull you into his arms like nothing else in the world mattered. It was enough, more than enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Somewhere along the way, the cracks started to show. At first, it was small things—missed dinners, texts that went unanswered because he was “caught up in meetings.” Then, the fights started. You’d ask him about the future—where were you going, what were you to each other? He’d dodge the questions, promising you that things would be easier once the season was over, once the next championship was done, once his contract was sorted out.

You tried to believe him, tried to convince yourself that you were both still young, that you had time. But every time you saw him, it felt like you were grasping at something that was always just slipping out of reach.

The first breakup came after his rookie season. You’d been together for two years, and you could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the uncertainty, the feeling that maybe you’d given up too much, too soon. You remember standing in the doorway, watching him lace up his skates, and asking, for the first time, why you weren’t moving forward. He looked at you, eyes soft but distant, and said he didn’t know. That maybe things were moving too fast. You didn’t yell, didn’t cry. You just nodded, kissed him one last time, and left.

It was the first time you thought that maybe he wasn’t ready to be with you the way you needed him to be. But it wasn’t the last.

Over the next few years, it was the same dance—back and forth, the two of you pulled together by some invisible force that neither of you could name, only to be pushed apart by the same old arguments, the same doubts.

Each time you broke up, it felt like the end.

You’d tell yourself that this time, it was really over. You’d pack your things, move out, and try to rebuild your life. But then, he’d call. Sometimes it was months later, sometimes just weeks, but it was always the same: I miss you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.

And every time, you believed him.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were the only person who really knew him, who understood the weight he carried every time he stepped onto the ice. Or maybe it was the promises he’d make when he held you close, whispering that one day he’d put a ring on your finger, that one day you’d have a family together. You told yourself that this time would be different, that you could trust him, that he was finally ready.

But each time, it ended the same way. The season would start, and he’d get caught up again—first in the games, then in the championships, then in the next contract. And you’d find yourself alone, the same questions building up, the same empty promises echoing in your head.

It went on like that for years. You tried dating other people, tried moving on, but it was always temporary. No one else felt like home the way he did, and you hated yourself for it. You’d built your life around someone who couldn’t give you the future he kept promising, and the worst part was, you kept going back.

You remember the last time you walked away. It was after another fight, the same one you’d had a dozen times before. You’d asked him about the future, and he’d given you that same look, the one that told you he was already pulling away. But this time, when he said, I just need time, you didn’t have the strength to believe him. You nodded, the lump in your throat too tight to speak, and left before he could see the tears in your eyes.

And now, you find yourself back where it all started, years later, wondering if he’s changed. If this time, when he said I miss you, it really meant something. But deep down, you already know the answer.

It’s the same as it’s always been.

───

You scan the room, your heart pounding, eyes darting from one face to another, hoping—no, dreading—that you’ll see him. Part of you wants to run, to turn around and pretend you never agreed to meet him. But the other part, the part that still holds on to the memories of you and him when things were easy, when love was simple and uncomplicated, keeps your feet rooted to the floor.

He’s always late, and you’ve learned to hate it. It’s not just a bad habit—it’s a symbol of everything between you two, a reminder that he always has something, or someone, else pulling him in another direction. Every time he tells you he’ll be there, every time you stand waiting, it’s like a countdown until he lets you down again.

You glance down at your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: fifteen minutes past when he said he’d be here. You think about leaving, about saving yourself the heartache. You’ve done this dance so many times before. You know the steps, know the way it’ll play out if you wait long enough. He’ll walk in, breathless and apologetic, and those eyes—God, those eyes—will soften when they find yours. He’ll look at you like you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady in a world that’s always moving too fast.

And you’ll feel your resolve slip, just like it always does.

Your hand tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white as you try to steel yourself against the pull of old memories. You think back to the last time you saw him, to the way he looked at you when you said enough. It had been one of those fights, the ones that started small—something about how he missed dinner again, or how you were the only one trying—and escalated into everything you’d ever bottled up. You told him you were tired of waiting, tired of hearing him say he was ready when all he ever did was prove otherwise.

He’d stood there, silent, watching you with that look—the one that said he was sorry but not enough to change. And you left, thinking that maybe this time, you’d finally meant it. That you could walk away and not look back.

But now, here you are, back in the same place, waiting.

A familiar ache spreads through your chest as the seconds tick by, every moment without him another chance for doubt to creep in. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be the person who keeps holding out hope when all it ever does is hurt. But despite everything, you can’t help the part of you that still believes. The part that whispers this time could be different, even when you know it won’t be.

Just when you’ve almost convinced yourself to leave, the door swings open. Your breath catches as you spot him, shoulders hunched slightly like he’s unsure of how to approach. He looks older, wearier than you remember, but it’s him. The moment his eyes lock with yours, you feel it—the same rush, the same pull that’s always been there, drawing you back in.

He smiles, that small, tentative smile that used to melt your defenses. It’s like he knows exactly how to walk that line between sincerity and charm, and you hate how well it works. You fight the urge to return it, to let that familiar warmth bloom in your chest, and instead, you keep your expression neutral.

He crosses the room with that unhurried stride, his gaze never leaving yours. When he finally reaches you, he stops, just a foot away, close enough that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne—a scent you’d once known better than your own. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, like he’s memorizing the way you look right now, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and careful, like he’s testing the waters.

“Hey.” Your response is cool, guarded. You’re not going to make this easy for him, not this time.

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit you know means he’s nervous. “I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up—”

You cut him off, tired of the same excuses. “It’s always something with you, Sid.”

He flinches, and you almost feel guilty. Almost. But then you remember all the times you waited, all the empty promises, and you stand your ground.

“I know,” he says softly. “You’re right.”

The words hang between you, heavy with everything that’s come before. It’s different this time. Usually, he jumps right into the apologies, into telling you how much he missed you, how he’s ready now, how he’s changed. But tonight, he just stands there, the look on his face a mixture of regret and something else you can’t quite read.

And maybe that’s the problem. You’ve never been able to fully read him. You’ve spent years trying, and every time you think you’ve figured him out, he slips away. You wonder if he knows how much it hurts—wonder if he even cares.

“So, what is it this time?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he’s thinking. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He exhales, a slow, deep breath that seems to carry the weight of everything you’ve been through together. “I just—” he starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

You shake your head, the familiar ache settling into your bones. “You always miss me when I’m gone.”

His gaze snaps back to yours, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—something real. “No, I mean it. I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I’m tired of losing you.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But the words feel like echoes of promises he’s made a hundred times before. And the part of you that’s always been waiting, hoping, feels like it’s hanging by a thread.

“Prove it,” you say, your voice steady even though your heart is racing. “Because I can’t keep doing this, Sid. I can’t keep falling for the same lines.”

He takes a step closer, and for a moment, you feel the pull again—the magnetic force that’s always drawn you back to him, no matter how many times you’ve tried to walk away. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

But as he reaches for your hand, you can’t help but brace yourself for the familiar sting of disappointment. Because no matter what he says, you know how this story ends.

He glanced down, looking down at the promise ring on your finger. Your ring finger. The same ring he'd given you many years ago, before he left for Pittsburgh. He told you it was just the beginning, a placeholder for something bigger. Something that, back then, felt like a certainty. You remember the way he slipped it on your finger, his hands steady and sure. His eyes shone with the same excitement you felt—like the future was a road you were both eager to walk down together.

“I’ll get you the real thing one day,” he’d promised, his voice brimming with that youthful conviction. “Just wait for me.”

And you did. For years, you wore that ring like a badge of honor, a symbol of everything you believed you were building together. When he left for Pittsburgh, you told yourself it was only temporary. Distance was just another hurdle, and the two of you had overcome so many already. You visited him during breaks, and every time he came home, it felt like picking up right where you left off. You thought nothing could break that bond.

Now, standing in front of him, you can see it in his eyes—that same look he’s always given you when he knows he’s let you down. But there’s a hesitation there, too, a weight he’s carrying that wasn’t there before. You wonder if he’s finally seeing it the way you do—if he’s finally realizing that words and promises are never enough.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb grazing the cool, faded metal of the ring. “I know I’ve said it before, but I—”

You pull your hand back, your chest tightening with all the years of waiting, all the times you’ve heard those same words and let yourself believe them. “Don’t. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

His jaw tenses, and he looks up, his eyes searching yours. “I do mean it,” he says, but there’s a hint of desperation in his voice now. “I know I haven’t been fair to you. I know I’ve asked too much.”

You shake your head, the anger and sadness mixing together until they’re almost indistinguishable. “No, Sidney, you’ve taken too much. You’ve taken years of my life—years I can’t get back.”

He winces, and you can see the hurt flash across his face, but you don’t pull back. You can’t. “I’ve given up everything for you—my job, my plans, my own life—because I believed in this. I believed in us. But every time, you leave. Every time, you break your promise.”

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can speak. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living my life waiting for a future that’s never going to come.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, and you can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words—words that you know won’t change anything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it feels like the final nail in the coffin. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m here now, and I want to make it right.”

You look down at the ring, that small circle of metal that once meant everything to you. It feels heavy now, like a weight dragging you down, a reminder of all the time you’ve spent waiting for something that never happened.

“I can’t wait forever,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need more than just words, Sid.”

For a moment, it looks like he might finally say something real, something that could change everything. But instead, he just stands there, silent, and you feel your heart break a little more. Because you know, deep down, that he doesn’t have an answer. He never has.

“You still wear it,” he spoke slowly, glancing down at the ring. “Doesn't that mean something? Anything? That maybe, maybe we should give this another try?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words settle around you like a storm cloud. It’s so typical of him, to latch onto the smallest signs, to twist reality just enough to make it feel like there’s hope. It’s the same hope that’s kept you coming back time and time again, like a moth drawn to the flicker of a flame.

But this time, that flame feels like it’s burning out.

“Sidney, I never stopped loving you,” you admit, and it’s the raw truth, the kind you’ve tried to keep buried for so long. “But love isn’t the problem. It’s everything else. It’s you telling me we have a future and then disappearing when it matters. It’s you making promises you can’t keep.”

He reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, holding on like he’s afraid you’ll slip away for good. “I’m different now. I’m ready. I know I said that before, but this time—”

“No,” you interrupt, pulling your arm back, the frustration building in your chest. “You’ve said that every time. You tell me you’re ready, that things will be different, and I believe you because I want to believe you. But then the same thing happens—you get busy, the season gets hard, and suddenly I’m on the sidelines again, waiting for you to make time for me.”

His shoulders slump, and he looks down, like he can’t face the truth of his own words. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know I’ve messed up. But I swear, this time—”

“Sid, listen to yourself.” You cross your arms, trying to steady the tremor in your voice. “This time, next time—there’s always a next time. But it’s just a cycle. It always has been. And I don’t know if I can keep believing that things will change when they never do.”

His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a flash of something you haven’t seen before—fear, maybe, or the realization that you’re slipping away. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

For a second, your resolve wavers. You see the boy you fell in love with, the one who used to hold your hand in the stands and tell you he couldn’t imagine his life without you. But the boy grew up, and his dreams took him places you were never a part of, no matter how hard you tried to be.

“You already have, Sid,” you whisper, feeling the ache spread through your chest. “You lost me a long time ago when you chose everything else over us. And I don’t think you even realize it.”

He steps closer, his hand hovering near your face like he’s afraid to touch you, like you’re something fragile that might break. “I’m trying, okay? I’m here now. I’m trying to make it right.”

You close your eyes, fighting the tears threatening to fall. “You always say that. But it’s not about showing up when it’s convenient for you. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, when things aren’t perfect, and proving that I’m more than just an option.”

When you open your eyes, you see the pain on his face, and it almost makes you want to take it all back, to say that you’ll try again, that you’ll believe him just one more time.

But you can’t. Not anymore.

“Tell me what to do,” he pleads, desperation clear in every word. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

But that’s just it. It’s not something you can tell him. It’s something he has to want, something he has to choose—without you holding his hand through it, without you putting your life on pause, waiting for him to catch up.

“I can’t tell you how to love me, Sid,” you say, and it feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “You either do, or you don’t. But I can’t be the one always holding this together. It has to be both of us, or it’s nothing.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he hesitates, and in that silence, you feel everything shift. It’s as if the reality of the situation is finally sinking in for both of you.

“Maybe…” you start, your voice cracking, “maybe this was always going to be the end.”

His face pales, and you see the fear flash through his eyes, but you hold firm. “I can’t keep living in the past, hoping you’ll change. I need more than just words, and if you can’t give me that, then…” You take a deep breath, the weight of the years falling away with each word. “Then maybe we need to let go.”

Sidney’s lips part as if to protest, but then he stops. His hand falls away from yours, and the emptiness between you feels colder than the Pittsburgh winters.

You let out a bitter chuckle as the tears begin to fall. “We could've had a good life together, Sid. Everything you could've wanted. Kids, a nice house and some... some cute dogs,”

It seemed silly to say, but it was the truth. You swallowed as you looked, trying to stifle your incoming sobs. “And it would’ve been ours. Not just mine, or yours—ours.”

The words are raw, cutting through the stillness between you. You can feel the sobs building in your chest, threatening to spill out, but you hold them back, just for a moment longer. “But you never wanted that. Not really. Not enough to make it real.”

Sidney’s face crumples, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “You always talk about wanting it all—wanting me, wanting the life we could have had, but then you pull away the second it gets too real. And I’m tired, Sid. I’m so damn tired of giving everything to someone who can’t meet me halfway.”

He shifts, taking a hesitant step forward, like he’s testing the waters, his eyes pleading. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want it,” he says, voice rough and cracking. “I just—” He rubs a hand over his face, frustration evident. “I didn’t know how to balance it all. I thought I’d have more time, that we’d figure it out eventually.”

“Eventually?” you repeat, the bitterness seeping through. “Sid, we’ve been at this for years. Years of back and forth, of me waiting for you to choose me. To really choose me. And every time, it’s the same story. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that things will be different.”

He stands there, shoulders hunched, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s the same look he’s given you countless times before, like he wants so badly to fix things but doesn’t know where to start. It makes your heart ache because you know, deep down, he’s not a bad person. He’s just… lost.

And maybe, you realize, he always will be.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I just—every time I tried to make things work, it felt like something else came up, and I kept thinking if I waited just a little longer—”

“Then everything would magically fall into place?” you cut in, shaking your head. “Life doesn’t work that way, Sid. Love doesn’t work that way. You can’t keep putting off what you want, what you need, and expect everything to turn out okay in the end.”

He takes another step forward, reaching out like he’s about to pull you in, but you take a step back, needing the distance. “I’m not asking you to be perfect,” you say, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks. “I just needed you to try. To show up. To prove that I was worth fighting for. But it feels like every time I turn around, you’re already halfway out the door.”

His expression falters, and you know he wants to argue, to tell you that it’s different this time, that he’s ready now. But you’ve heard it all before, and the words have lost their meaning.

“I wanted the house,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I wanted the dogs, the kids, all of it. I wanted us, Sidney. And I believed we could have it. But you kept pushing it off, and now… I don’t know if I can keep waiting for something that might never come.”

He reaches out again, and this time, you let him. His hand closes around yours, and it feels both familiar and foreign—like holding on to a memory that’s slipping through your fingers.

“I love you,” he says, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart clench. “I’ve always loved you.”

You give him a sad smile, knowing that, despite everything, that much is true. “I know,” you say, squeezing his hand one last time before pulling away. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

And as you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the cold, you hope—maybe for the first time—that you’ll be strong enough to let go. Because you know if you don’t, this cycle will only repeat itself. And you can’t keep breaking your own heart for someone who won’t give you the life you’ve always wanted.

That night, you dreamed of the house. The kids, and the dogs and of him. You'd wake up, it would feel like how it did the day you met—warm and safe, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

The sun would stream through the windows of that little house you imagined, its golden light wrapping you in the kind of warmth you’d always craved. You’d roll over, and there he’d be, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his eyes still heavy with sleep but soft, so soft, like he was seeing the whole world in you.

The kids would run down the hall, their laughter echoing, filling the space between your shared breaths. You’d rise together, slowly, and there would be no rush, no impending flight or long distance to worry about. Just you, him, and that perfect slowness of a morning spent together. The dogs would bound into the room, tails wagging, and the day would unfold in simple, perfect moments—breakfast at the table, messy hair and pajamas, the feeling of his hand on yours as he refilled your coffee cup.

It would feel right.

And in that dream, it would all make sense—why you’d waited so long, why you’d kept coming back, even when you knew better. Because in that world, in that life, you had everything you’d ever wanted. It was real, and it was whole, and there were no questions, no doubts, no space for the silence that always lingered between you in reality.

But then, you’d wake up.

You’d open your eyes to the quiet, dark room, the emptiness of your side of the bed. There’d be no warm sunlight, no laughter echoing through the halls, no weight of his arm pulling you close. Just the cold, still air of your apartment, the hum of the city outside, and the realization that it was all just a dream—a dream you’d had a thousand times before, and one you knew you’d have again.

And as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you’d feel that ache settle in your chest. The one that reminded you that no matter how real it felt, it was only ever going to be a figment of your imagination. Because the truth was, you had to wake up alone.

In that moment, you’d wonder if he ever dreamed of it too—if he ever pictured that life, those mornings, the way you did. If he ever saw a future where he stayed, where he chose you and didn’t let go. But you knew that even if he did, it wasn’t enough. Because while you were left clinging to dreams, he was off living a life that didn’t have room for you in it.

You’d curl back into the blankets, pulling them tight around you, pretending for just one more moment that the warmth was him. That maybe, one day, you’d wake up to the life you’d always imagined, and it wouldn’t slip away like morning mist.

But until then, all you had were the dreams and the memories of a love that almost was—almost, but never quite enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[froggerland]

oh also same anon as before, sorry, but i wanted to give you an opportunity to just talk about your challengers crossover because i like it and i want more thoughts on sojoplittle out there cos so far they've been confined to my mind and one server im in... jopson in a tashi position is genius especially because sol/patrick and edward/art are incredibly dog coded. it works so well

Ooooh thank you so much for letting me indulge!! I never expected ppl would wanna see more of this, my thought process was literally "I love this still from challengers and I love sojoplittle, jop deserves to be pampered by both his dog coded boyfriends so I will redraw it" and the other ones were legit just me having fun at redrawing stills haha

But yeah if you think about it more it could actually be something so I let it marinate in my head for 2 hours and this is what I came up with (brace yourselves this is gonna be a long one)

(Big disclaimer tho I am not a storyteller and the details are a little murky, same with the historical accuracy concerning the Navy but I tried)

(Also sorry english isn't my native language as you've probably clocked by now)

So the first canon divergence is that Little and Tozer know each other before the expedition and were good friends. They met at a military academy or something before Tozer decided to leave for the Marines. Little loves Tozers protectiveness of those placed under his command and his charisma, Tozer loves Littles gentleness and his ability to give commands without being condescending and the respect he earns for it (he also loves to tease Little who's a little prudish).

When they meet again by chance on the Franklin expedition they're obviously stoked. They have had a weird ambiguous "little more than friends little less than lovers" thing going on back in their time at the academy but now on the open sea things are more liberal (you have to be careful still, christian doctrine and homophobia is still a thing but most of your mates will cut you some slack if the last time you've seen a woman was months ago when they find you with another man).

In the first Winter of the expedition they are discovered by Jopson who, instead of telling Command, just smirks and asks if he can join. He'd suspected something for a while and found both Little and Tozer quite handsome. The purely physical attraction soon becomes emotional, especially for Jopson and Little who feel akin in their roles of servitude with their position under Crozier. Jopson and Tozer don't bond all that much emotionally (they match each other in their (idk how graphic I can get with this) physical desires) but with all three there is no jealousy involved and up until Sir John's death they're a relatively happy (secret) polycule.

After the death the story basically progresses as it does in the show, the carnival, the abandonment of the ships, the mutiny. Tozer, after loosing faith in Crozier and Fitzjames, decides that Hickey is their best way out alive. He confines in Little who, still very much loyal to Crozier despite everything, lashes out and begs Tozer not to go. Tozer hesitates to leave his two lovers behind but in this moment the will to survive is stronger and anything physical between them.

So he leaves, the plot continues as it does in the show including Jopsons promotion to 3rd Lieutenant that Crozier gives him in Episode 9 (?). Everything progresses normally until the point where Hickey, Crozier and the mutineers face the tunbaaq. At the same time a rescue party arrives at the non mutineers camp, finding Little, Le Vesconte and the other surviving men. They are fed and treated while smaller rescue party splits off to find Crozier and the rest. They discover them all dead, all except for Tozer who's nowhere to be found. They don't tell Little and Jopson though, obviously not knowing that someone's even missing.

The surviving men are fared back to England, a lot of them die on the ship, almost also including Jopson who clings to life with every last ounce of strength he has. Among the dead is Le Vesconte which makes Little and Jopson the only high ranking officers to make it back (there's a handful of other survivors but none important enough to face the Admirality).

So back in London they're given a short time to recover before they're scooped up and paraded around every Admirality event there is. English society wants to hear all about the brave heroes who made it back from that gruesome, inhospitable land.

Little is absolutely traumatized. The years under Croziers unstable command, everything that happened after they abandoned ship, how close they came to death - it's absurd to him how casually people ask him of it. Jopson comes to the rescue, giving smart answers to nosy young ladies. He's affected by the whole thing as well of course, but he is used to masking his real emotions. In private, Little and Jopson comfort each other, easing the pain at least a little.

After a few months, routine has settled in. Jopson starts to enjoy the life as a Lieutenant, and although the repeated questions are annoying, he starts to appreciate the comforts of a lifestyle so well above that what he was used to. Little doesn't get much better though. Jopsons patience starts to run thin, not only believing that enough time has passed to get back to the realm of the living again, but also because he is dependent on Little: While he is a Lieutenant on paper and much of the Admirality respects him for his "heroism", they can't accept his low birth. The curtesy they afford him at balls is all fake, Jopson knows that, and without Little around to essentially legitimize him they will find a reason to throw Jopson back out on the street. Since he's not interested to actually hold Command as a Lieutenant, the idea that Little needs to secure a place on an expedition to stay relevant and credible forms within him. Because the Admirality is getting impatient, a young sailor like Little should be back on a ship in no time, no matter how gruesome the experience beforehand was.

Jopson gets increasingly more pushy for Little to apply for a command, but Little refuses to ever set foot on a ship again. Jopson is tied to him by classism but also, still, by love. Deep down he still loves Ned, the gentle, caring man always keen to serve. But that Ned is almost entirely gone, left somewhere in the Arctic Labyrinth. Instead he's trapped with a shell of a man in what is basically a loveless marriage, being ushered from ball to ball, retelling the same story's over and over until they don't feel real anymore. Little is still as in love with Jopson as he had been since the first Winter on the ice, not being able to imagine what it would be like to not have him on his side, care for him, reassure him that he's not going crazy, it really happened, tunbaaq, the dead and all.

Pissed off, Jopson takes a stroll down at the harbor one evening, it's a few years after the expedition at this point. At the docks he spots a familiar face: Tozer.

After making sure its actually him Jopson drags Tozer into an alley, cursing and shouting and Tozers treachery, why he would ever go with Hickey, why he abandoned them, how is he even alive.

Tozer responds calmly, simply asking is Ned is still alive. Jopson strikes him. Instead of responding Tozer kisses Jopson (insert the parking lot hate sex scene).

--------

Okay sorry for the abrupt end, I haven't made up my mind how to end the whole thing, the end of the movie is kind of ambiguous so nothing to go by really.

I like the thought of them all making up tho and then leaving England for some remote island in the pacific (maybe the sandwich islands??) to live out the rest of their days happy and undisturbed and never ever cold again :)

Feel free to use this long ass concept, if you're as deep into the brainrot as I am and want to make some content with this tag me lmao

[blue-jisungs]

hi its me again infesting your inbox like a leech ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

ANYWAYS im lowkey craving some jiseok fluff rn SO i was thinking something like:

reader n' jiseok are classmates + school ambassadors but barely talk to e/o and then BOOM suddenly they're paired up tgt to tour around some families n stuff and ppl think they're dating or smth IDK 😭😭

change it up if you want obviously BUT GAON <333333333 !!!!!!!!

(also i've read your xh like 20 times EACH omfg theyre so cute AAARHRHEHSHS)

[ axe's memo ! ] iim sosososo sorry i got to this so late, i was busy n then sick sigh... hope this is gonna meet ur expectations hehe and dont ever feel guilty abt spamming abt heroes, i love them sm!!! and i dont get to write for them that often so i really aprreaciate it hehe<333 also i decided to add a lil bit of ur another req since i didnt wanna be repetitive:(

highschool crush jiseok UGHWRGRWGOGIJ HELLO?! he's more like a hallway crush though, always busy with his friends or practicing with his band. you knew each other and there were no hard feelings - you just never really talked too much to each other. once or twice he'd ask you for homework or you'd always say hi whenever you saw each other. but nothing more.

that was until, with you both being the school ambassadors, you got paired up to welcome an important guest in your school. some kind of professor with media staff: so an important task indeed, you had to showcase the best traits of your school.

so you and jiseok started hanging out more to prepare everything you wanted and make a plan. he was sooo silly, easily bringing you out of the shy shell you were in. you started talking more, he even invited you to one of the band practices. even though you found him playing the guitar extremely attractive, his friends noticed how nervous he was (and all the small mistakes he made due to that. but they ignored it, having in mind his slowly growing crush on you).

when the day came, you and jiseok decide to wear matching sweaters in representative colors of your school. it all goes smoothly, you send each other encouraging looks and nods. the professor seems pleased, happy with your presentation. at the end, you take a picture with him and jiseok.

you hoped it would stay that way after it ends – you’d stay friends with him. and luckily, you do. everyday you wait for the material to drop and when it does, jiseok runs up to you in the hallway.

"y/n, look! the wrote and article and posted a reel about our school!" he said with a grin and showed you the video. you smiled upon seeing your faces on the screen and then opened the comments.

and your heart sped up upon reading them. 'omg they look like a cute couple!', ‘that was such a genius choice to make such a sweet couple represent the school!'

"what’s wrong?" he asked and glanced at the phone. your cheeks were a blushing mess when jiseok read the comments too.

"they think we’re dating…" you mumbled and saw the tips of his ears redden too. not wanting to make it more awkward, you ran away with an incoherent squeak.

the next days were quite awkward, you tried to avoid jiseok. you were thinking how to approach him, how to act normal around him.

and once, after class, jiseok ran up to you before you could leave. your eyes widened when you saw him place a box of chocolates on your desk.

"i figured… i’d say thank you. you know, for helping me with the presentation and everything. sorry if i made you uncomfortable… you’ve been avoiding me and i don’t know…" he mumbled and your heart melted upon the sad pout on his lips. you grabbed the chocolates and let out a small gasp.

"how… how did you know those are my favorite?" you asked quietly.

"i mean, wouldn’t it be weird if i didn’t know the favorite chocolates of the girl i like?" he scoffed, trying to look nonchalant. but in his mind he was screaming at his own stupidity, why– why did he say that? he was supposed to approach you calmly and–

"what?" you stood up, eyes glued on him "you like me?"

"yeah, woah, i… who said that?" he joked, rising his hands. but seeing how serious you are, he just sent you an awkward smile "i… do… well, it hit me when i was reading all the comments saying we look like a couple and i don’t know…"

you fought back a smile and took a deep breath.

"even my friends thought we were dating at one point but… now that it’s out, i don’t want to push you into anything or–" he started stumbling over his own words when you scooted closer, putting your hand on your arm. he looked around nervously, eyes wide "what?"

"i’ve had a crush on you for a while as well" you mumbled "that’s why i was avoiding you lately, im sorry"

you leaned in and pecked his cheek. blushing covered his whole face – from ears to neck.

"let’s go on a date after school, hm?" you asked, tilting your head. jiseok was nodding energetically, unable to mutter a single 'yes'. before he could react and realize what happened, you already left him behind <3

m. list

taglist. @primoppang ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

[cavejebus]

my adam playlist is about 20 songs now, so im gonna post it even though it is still a WORK IN PROGRESS!!!! ill add onto it when i wanna ofc, but i just wanna share a lil bit of my visionnn <3 expect a lot of linkin park lmao

some songs might not show up on the tumblr preview so i highly recommend going to the actual playlist if you have spotify!!

and batuta din moldova is there too cuz why not

below is a few categories and explanations for most songs!!!

ANGSTY SHIT

songs I thought either the lyrics or vibe had something to do with his angst... usually has to do with his background, during the trap, after the trap (whether he survived or not), or just headcanons :P

1. paper cuts - nirvana

"my whole existence is for your amusement", "why do they not try to escape?"

i THINK this song is about this dude who is like, in a really shitty kidnapping situation.... or something idk don't quote me on that :P it gives off the vibe of how it must've felt being in the bathroom all alone :( waiting for his boyfriend to save him :(

2. pictures of me - elliot smith

"you'll be the victim of your own dirty tricks", "i'm not surprised at all and really, why should i be?", "so sick and tired of all these pictures of me")

i like the whole pictures tie in.. the song isn't rlly about this, but some lyrics seem like how he would feel about being in a trap. like "I'm not surprised jigsaw chose me for this, my life is shit!!" ofc that would be if he knew who jigsaw was beforehand....... self deprecating shit yknow

3. given up - linkin park

"stuck in my head again//feels like i'll never leave this place//there's no escape", "thought i was focused, but I'm scared//i'm not prepared", "i hyperventilate//looking for help somehow, somewhere//and no one cares"

OK so first quote from this that I chose is like, how he sees his life as some useless "live to die" type thing, then the next quotes are how he realizes that he REALLY doesn't wanna die at the end of the trap. despite his whole "my life is shit I hate my job yadda yadda" talk, he still begs for his life once it's really in danger!!!

4. black heart - stone temple pilots w/ chester benningtion

"rescue me//(If you don't mind)"

lawrence......rescue this bitch....... ok but this song is mostly vibes, it can have angsty vibes :P

5. go with the flow - queens of the stone age

"she said, "i'll throw myself away//they're just photos after all", "i can't make you hang around//i can't wash you off my skin"

MORE PHOTO STUFF!!!!!! love it when it all ties in......... for the second quote its kind of a chainshipping thing... i cant make you hang around, adam goin "don't leave me!!!!" and i cant wash you off my skin, lawrence left his frickin bloody handprint on adams face.... oughh

6. and one - linkin park

"left all alone//far from my home//no one to hear me, to heal my ill heart", "it's too late to love me now//you don't even know me"

this song just generally gives angsty adam vibes, but the second quote is TOTALLY CHAINSHIPPING..... like they literally just met but already have such a connection since they went thru all that SHIT. but uh its too late for them to live a happy normal life together cuz lawrence never came back womp womp!! i can see adam sitting there waiting like "he don't even know me why tf would he come backk"

VIBES/STUFF HE'D LIKE

whether its based off of whatever tf he was listening to in his headphones that one time, or just based off of the time... i think his music taste would generally be pretty vast, while still staying around nu metal and alternative rock

1. one step closer, papercut, don't stay - linkin park

its 2001, hybrid theory has been release and is already fairly popular, i'd assume :P plus I think he'd favor linkin park since they've got a lot of complexity, as opposed to some mindless nu metal around that time

2. guns (are for pussies), down - 311

AGAIN with the rap x rock wtf!!!! he also like, cares about politics and probably trash talks all those gun loving dummies

3. brain stew - green day

who tf doesnt like this song... but it is about rotting in your room and he probably does that often <3

4. break stuff - limp bizkit

DO I HAVE TO SAY WHY I PUT THIS ONE???? ITS BREAK STUFF LIMP BIZKIT COME ON!!!!

5. the fear (flipped) - the shins

honestly have no idea why, but its giving adam!!! dunno what the song is about, but i glanced at the lyrics mentioned a bong and i was like "haha adam smokes weed"

6. tired of sex - weezer

he would like pinkerton, but i kinda only like this song off of it :P i don't listen to much weezer

7. blister in the sun, kiss off - violent femmes

i kinda just wanted to add in the acoustic sounding shit, but i do think adam would listen to violent femmes!! and you should too!!!

8. break it to me - muse

have y'all noticed that he kinda lied a lot during the trap? sure he isn't a good liar, but he seems like he's cool with lying for whatever reason... i just kinda picked this one cuz i needed to add some muse and the song kinda says shit about lying and stuff idk!!

CHAINSHIPPING SHIT

other than the angsty chainshipping in the "angsty shit" category, these just have cutesy lil lawrence x adam stuff <3 sorry to SHOVE chainshipping down your throat but whatever love is love

1. add it up - violent femmes

not specifying which lyric even though there IS one, i'm just embarrassed to say <3 but uh the only thing stopping them from making out sloppy style on top of john kramer was their chains :P

again, i WILL be adding more to this :3 but here's just my thoughts for now. im TOTES not just projecting my music taste onto adam hahahahhhhahahhahahhhaaa he's just so ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry if none of this makes sense!!!

[koiiiji]

Can I ask you to write a story about me trying to commit suicide but being saved by Wooin?🥺🥺plzzzzz😭😭

1)okay guys, i think its time to set an masterlist what i write for and what i don’t once again in my acc

2) hun, my askbox is currently closed, but this request seems…idk strange(?) if you going through some hard period now in your life, its time to ask for professional help, or at least have a talk with someone who you trust, or something like this, im not an psychologist to start this whole topic, but if there is something that bothering you, please ask for professional

3) i will make an exception, bc i usually don’t write for stuff like this, and honestly it won’t be exact stuff you asked about, just comforting(?) scenario.

enjoy💌

crowd. there are so many people everywhere, although what else did you expect, you in the club, swinging under the bit of music with the crowd, but you have already thought little. alcohol brought pleasant oblivion, but for just a couple of hours… even now, in this state, you understood this and drove these thoughts away. now you have to relax. forget. run away from this world. dissolve the safites, bright flashes of light and loud bits of music in this world.

yes, you must run away from everythi... "hello little thing"

wooin threw his hand on your shoulders. there was no familiar sweet smile and playful light in his eyes, he was gloomy as a bad day. you knew that he didn’t like when you visited such places, he sincerely thought that they did not suit you, this is not your style.

the hand that lay on your shoulder slipped to the elbow - holding it tightly - and the second free hand sank somewhere in the waist area. wooin dragged you to the exit, while you didn't really care, you didn't even understand who it was.

while alcohol was active, everything was fine. while it was seething in your blood, you were safe from your own thoughts. yes, while there was a state of intoxication, you were far from reality, head was empty, and the obsessive thoughts disappeared somewhere by itself. now you only stupidly smiled at the flickering lights and bright flashes of spotlights, your head was spinning, as was the world around you.

you felt like someone dragged you somewhere, but as long as head and thoughts were filled with music everything was in order, everything was fine. you did not worry that your legs dragged out limp on the floor, braided and stumbling itself, while head was empty. you would continue to giggle stupidly and smile if you didn't blink, and in a blink flickering lights disappeared, and the music subsided, and only the crushing silence of the wooin car. your elbow felt sick. it seems that wooin clung to you too much when he dragged your body through the entire dance floor, or hit your elbow on the rack of the car when he pushed you into the salon. he clearly wasn’t happy that he found you in that club.

but honestly? he would never have thought that he would save any girl from such situation. he is used to being responsible only for himself and no one else, but for some reason, the appearance of your drunken body, abandoned on the dance floor annoyed him, he did not like to see you like that. wooin liked it more when you turned away in embarrassment to hide your blush from his vulgar comments or when you annoyed screaming because of the mess that he divorced in your kitchen, when he once again without permission broke into your apartment.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he asked irritably fastening you with a belt, and nervously starting the engine. he was angry, apparently because of his work, or just this day was too stressful or because of your presence in that fucking club... you had no idea in your head, you just sat on a passenger seat, eyes are blurred, and without understanding where you are going at all, the only thing you recognized was his voice. car rushed off, with the ringing silence. the only thing your brain could concentrate on right now is flickering lights, only this time it was a warm light of lanterns on the streets. as the car rushed along the road, the light from the lanterns was reflected from the glass and crashed into your eyes. it’s not loud music of course, but also distracting attention, and suddenly your eyes began to feel heavy, seat in wooin’s car seemed too comfortable, unlike the crowd lingering to each other. you closed your eyes only for a moment and now already in your apartment. this time, spasms in the shoulder were added to the pain in the elbow, it seems wooin was not too gentle with you while dragging your body to the apartment.

"hey, woe party gremlin, go wash off your combat painting and go to bed, i don't have time to nurse you all night" he shouted in annoyed tone from the passage to the bath, while you were in a reclining position on the couch, trying to take off from yourself either shoes or outerwear. seems that wooin is really angry. tsking loudly, showing all his prompted irritation, wooin grabbed micellar water and a pack of cotton pads from the shelf and approached you. with his feet, he helped you finally pull your damned shoes off and pulled the sleeves of the jacket so that you finally could get out of it.

sitting down next to you on the sofa, he took you by the chin, turned your face to himself, and gently rubbed a wet disk over your face, washing off makeup. you tried to focus your attention on his face, but everything was desperately swimming in your eyes, and your eyelids seemed so heavy that you could no longer resist, falling down on his shoulder. wooin just sighed, pushing you onto the cushions of the sofa and headed to your room, pulling the blanket off the bed, he covered your body - still lying on the couch in the living room - and only for a couple of seconds held his gaze on your peaceful face.

when you woke up in the morning, you mentally thanked him for leaving a glass of water on the table. but you will never know that before leaving that night, he lingered there to gently brush a couple of strands from your face, lightly touch your hand, wondering if he should do something more, and in the end, he just left, also mentally wishing you the most peaceful dreams and a light head in the morning.

*sorry, the end turned out to be a little crumpled, im not used to writing something like that.((

[year2000electronics]

not to send the billionth ask about hlvrv but are doc and g-man intentionally narrative foils. man who would do literally anything for his family VS man who believes having a family makes you weak. like. they ARE narrative foils but was it on purpose or a happy accident. also every day i thank you for making sleepless a forzen when i feel like anyone else would've made him a benrey for Frenrey. idk it adds a little pizazz that he's the singular forzen in hlvrv and not a benrey even if him being a benrey would probably change nothing plot-wise

YESSSS and i love it. the question of "was it intentional" is a little here and there because the more i look back at hlvrv the more i forget what i was thinking of in the moment and the more i only have my notes to go off. where episode 1 was kinda me going "UHHHHHHH" and panicking looking at the building blocks that ive laid out desperately trying to smash them together. doc definitely wasnt crafted with the idea that he would have this traitor narrative in mind, and certainly he wasnt created hand in hand with gvrv. his creation was me in the notes app going "uh i need two more gordons. what would be cool. A MAD SCIENTIST MAYBE?" and things kinda fell into place from there.

i think as the live askblog stuff went on i definitely did find my footing with that though, especially as i was going in with the looming shadow of like. onceler-au-ification behind me. i wanted the science teams to play a part in them for sure. and for that connection, that bond, to play a part, and i guess as the story went on doc and freemans fates got more and more intertwined, as doc has this sort of selfish love of her family where she will stop at NOTHING to save them, and the admins whose selfish love of freeman ends up trapping all the other gordons and dangling false hope in front of them, but as the story goes on, as the gordons make these choices to reach out to each other and fight for their happy ending, thats how you see doc and the admins' loves grow into something more deeper and mature. compared to gvrv who chose to love people only as tools

ALSO YEA I LOVE SLEEPLESS. im like 90% sure zer creation was also just me scheming in the notes app like "ooooh theyll NEVER expect this one!" but also i noticed hlvrv at large had a very large forzen-shaped gap so i was like "fuck it". i agree i think making sleepless a benrey would have been tacky

[chnt-confessions]

i think i'm the only person in the entire fandom that has any genuine empathy for elijah, and i'm stuck thinking there's something deeply wrong with me for that. i feel like quite a lot of people split black on him (and joshua) and then split white on jedidiah, and sydney. the ONLY two options are to dehumanize or objectify him. no hate to jedidiah-likers, but jedidiah is not a victim. he doesn't act entirely the way he does because of trauma, he acts that way because he implicitly looks down on sydney. what kind of man jeopardizes the entire world for a man that he let gravely sick in the first place, only to gaslight and neglect him?? all this because of mommy and daddy issues that, like, 70% of the population has?? i had to headcanon extra issues and trauma for him to just to keep myself sane. i don't mean to invalidate his trauma, but he has lived such a privileged life and can easily go to therapy and yet. i'm sorry but it's bojack-horseman levels of "how tf do you expect me to feel bad for you? lmao." like, i need him to get better because people will likely die if he gets any worse, but other than i couldn't care less about this guy. i'm way more sympathetic to sydney because he's trying his best but he seems to have an empathy deficiency of some kind (it's not his fault but it is painfully obvious sometimes and i wish i could fix him but i have to fix myself first because i also deal with this); i also relate to the "feeling unlovable" aspect of things.

we have only seen elijah at his worst. the elephant man is elijah "mental breakdown, 2 years and counting psychotic episode" core; did everyone just assume he was born like that? and if he was, that would also make me sad tbh. he had a similar upbringing to jedidiah and yet he does not show it at all and i'm wondering what tf was different. he also generally sucks at being a villain sometimes (i.e. telling sydney his weakness, letting sydney go back to jedidiah, reacting way better than most people would when sydney told him that he couldn't get the journals). when jedidiah says "sydney, you're always fine." vs when elijah says it; jedidiah said it to gaslight sydney and because he feels bitter about the fact he's working so hard to keep sydney alive and can't use it to manipulate him (i'm joking but i'm also not joking), while elijah was just being a little acolyte and also he's symbolically the earth, so when he says the earth will catch him when he falls, he is fr. idk what snapped in him with the murder-suicide thing but considering that he is the earth, and unfortunately due to sydney's weird little mind and jedidiah's horribleness, the earth is, like, post-apocalyptic now so it probably has something to do with that (idk why he switched from stabbing to burning alive; probably cuz of the theatrics/j). anyway, he does suck and he needs to go back to russia and never come back for everyone's good, but i really do think he would be better than jedidiah could ever be (yes, even with therapy; i'm literally speaking facts/hj) if "everyday [wasn't] a living fucking nightmare." and i'm constantly like "._." whenever i remember that jedidiah is the reason "everyday is a living fucking nightmare." also i really wanna see someone do elijah/the elephant man analysis/interpretation that doesn't reek of disgust and hatred (or lust; do whatever you want, but i'm judging you rn), just for variety tbh. here is his official playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/389N5sUULTXFC63I3CSn7c?si=756dacaa18cd491c some of the songs in here are, like, "???" and i want to see someone's else's take on them (even elijah haters tbh) sorry for the essay, that's all i wanted to say :)

also im so happy that i can say this anonymously, thank you chnt-confessions for doing god's work, i love you platonically <3

(ABOUT THE LAST PART) no need to apologize and I'm really glad to make you happy!!

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 20 - Dave York

Numb

Pairing: Dark!Dave York x afab!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, dddne, this is not the darkest thing I've written, but it is the darkest I've posted. Non-con piv, non-con knife play, reader gets cut, blood as lube, spit kink, spit as lube, degrading nicknames, restraints, Dave is MEAN, multiple slaps, literal abuse, stockholm syndrome vibes? Stuff im forgetting

Summary: Dave comes home after a rough day to find out that you didn't do the one thing he asked for.

A/N: Y'all, I want to like this one so bad, but I just read over it and I didn't think it was as good as I anticipated. 😭 Maybe it's just because I know I wrote it, or maybe I'm just tired out of my mind. Idk, I'll try to read it in the morning. Anyways, please keep in mind that this is a DARK FIC. If you don't like it, don't read it.

****

You’re sitting on the couch, idly watching TV when Dave gets home. You smile brightly, jumping up from the sofa to greet him at the door, resisting the urge to cross your fingers in hopes that he’s in a good mood. 

You had pampered yourself today, making yourself look soft and pretty, your hair shiny and perfectly in place. You had slipped on a dress that he had brought home a week or so ago as a reward. He’d been so happy and kind that week, and you’d felt so special with the way he paid so much attention to you. 

You hope that he’ll do the same again when he sees you like this, all dolled up just for him. Though it’s a reward enough just to know when you have his approval. 

“Hey, baby,” you say tentatively as you peak your head into the doorway. 

Dave turns around to look at you as he takes off his coat, his expression blank as he takes in your appearance. Your smile falters, though you try to keep it up. His eyes are dark, his jaw set with a particular hint of annoyance. He’s had a bad day. 

Ignoring the part of your brain that screams at you to go hide, you step toward him slowly. He doesn’t move as you approach, just continues to watch as you gently undo his tie and hang it up on the rack next to his coat. 

The air is thick with tension around the two of you as you look into each other’s eyes. Where your gaze is hesitant, exposing the fact that you have to put effort into not cowering in his presence, his is hard, revealing the fact that he gains something from your submission. 

You try so hard not to be afraid of him anymore, but you just can’t help it sometimes. He’s good to you when you’re good, only mean when he says you’re not. The only problem is that he seems to decide when you’re acting good or bad, even if you’re on your best behavior. 

Because of this, you’re in a constant state of reluctance and worried anticipation. You never know when he’s going to snap again. 

“D-Dave?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Do you want to talk–” 

“Would you shut the fuck up for just one second?” He’s quick to interrupt as he shoves past you and into the kitchen. You close your eyes, gulping down the sudden disappointment that bubbles in your throat. 

That’s okay, though. You’ll brush it off. You’re probably just over-reacting again. 

You sigh and spin on your heel to follow him into the kitchen. 

“Are you hungry? I can make you something if you wan–”

“Christ, woman! Do you have a damn off switch? If I want something, I’ll fucking tell you I want it.” 

You reel back at his harsh words, not expecting them quite this early. You open your mouth to comply, but the warning look he gives you makes you shut it and nod instead.

He moves to the sink, rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands, when he stops abruptly in front of it. For a moment, you’re confused, but then you remember what you had forgotten to do today. Your eyes go wide and your stomach drops. 

“I ask you for one. fucking. thing,” Dave says, his back turned toward you. His voice makes you shudder, the tone much too low to mean anything good. He turns around now, fury in his eyes as he breaks under the last straw. 

“Useless goddamn bitch,” he slowly seethes, stalking toward you. Your breathing goes shallow, your body tingly as you watch him get closer, already knowing what's to come. 

You sink back, your ass hitting the floor as you scootch back until you hit the wall. You’re cowering, your body already shaking as you wrap your arms around your head and squeeze yourself into the tiniest ball possible. 

“Dave, please! I swear I didn’t mean to forget, IswearIswearIswear, please, I–”

You're cut off by your own scream as Dave yanks you up by your hair, your scalp stinging as strands rip from the force he uses to pull your face to his. You’re blubbering as he spits degrading remarks your way, far too panicked to hear everything he’s saying. 

You catch snippets here and there as you push against his chest, only serving to hurt your tender head more as he tightens his grip on your hair to keep you close. 

“Fucking dumb—can’t remember shit—Don’t even know why I keep you here—can’t even tell you to do the dishes–”

He just keeps going, every beration digging into your skin until you feel like you’re being coddled by razors. 

“D-Dave, Please–” you try to stop it, even though you know better. His hand comes down sharp across your cheek before you can even process it being raised. Your neck aches from the way it’s forced to the side, almost distracting you from the stinging pain coming from your reddening skin. 

You choke on a sob, your tears stopping momentarily from the shock. Through the ringing in your ears and the pain that spreads through your jaw, you register how your makeup has been messed up from your crying, and you almost want to laugh with how stupid of a thought that is. 

You don’t, of course, because Dave’s quickly pulling you back to reality with a firm hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes. Tears continue to run hot down your face as you let him move you, feeling too defeated at this point to try anything else. 

“You hear me, bitch?” He asks, giving your jaw a firm shake. You blink at him, forgetting at this point that you have the ability to speak at all. It’s not like he would hear you anyway. 

“Said I’m gonna get some fucking use out of you. Seems there’s only one thing a dumb whore like you is good for.” 

You just keep watching him, your expression fallen as you watch it happen. Again. What else can you do? It’s never helped to do anything else before. 

He snarls, clearly annoyed that you’re not giving him another reason to reprimand you. He stands to his full height, tossing you back to the floor as he does so. 

The back of your head knocks forcefully against the tile, and you feel your teeth rattle as the light above you starts to blur. You think faintly that you may want to move, but your body doesn’t want to comply. It’s not like you have anywhere to go. 

You settle for blankly watching Dave as he tugs his belt through the loops before unzipping himself. His eyes stay on you the entire time, and you think you whimper at some point because of the smirk on his face. 

You hate the way your tears run thinly into your hairline, settling there uncomfortably, but you can’t be bothered to wipe them away. You’re tired, you just want to disappear. Unfortunately, you know you can’t do that, so you settle for the next best thing—staying still and silent in hopes that you can block everything out, dissociate yourself somehow. 

Your body jolts as Dave kneels down in front of you, pulling your hips closer to him. You must have been watching the light again, lost in your hazy thoughts. A pathetic sob slips through your lips, and you taste blood as they open. You must have bit your bottom lip when you hit the floor—or maybe it was split from the slap. You don’t know. Don’t care at this point. You just want this to be over. 

Vaguely, you register that it hasn’t even started. 

“You just going to lay there?” Dave points out more than asks as he reaches for your panties. “You really are damn stupid. Must want this, fucking slut.” 

Your eyes close tightly as you feel your panties get ripped in half. 

He’s right, you are stupid. Only a stupid girl would let this happen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

The word repeats like a chant in your head, your eyelids tightening and your lips quivering. Your body shakes and shakes, it’s all it can do through the headache you’re starting to get from the screaming in your mind. 

Another harsh crack makes you gasp, trying pitifully to take a breath as you take in the fact that he just slapped you again. You feel it less this time, though you don’t know why. 

“Look at me,” he spits once your eyes are opened again. Hesitantly, you look into his eyes, trying with all your might to keep them open. It’s like a nightmare, and the only way you can escape is for you to shut your eyes. 

The only difference is that this is real, that even if you closed them, you would still be able to feel the way he notches himself at your entrance, still feel his threatening stare, still feel every ache and pain that he inflicts on your body. 

He grunts as he starts to shove his cock into your unprepared cunt, and your mouth falls open to squeal at the sudden burn between your legs. No sound comes out, your tongue thick and dry as sandpaper. 

He doesn’t stop you this time when your eyes screw shut in pain, your body squirming beneath him as you try to get away. Your fingers twitch, as if just now regaining the ability to move. 

Dave chuckles at you before pressing a hand to your abdomen and spitting onto your pussy, letting his saliva run down to where his cock is half-way disappeared inside of you. He repeats this action three times before there’s enough lubrication for him to slide the rest of the way in. 

“Tight little hole. All mine to ruin.” 

Dave grabs your face again, pinching your cheeks until you look at him through blurry eyes. As soon as they’re open, you can watch him spit on your face, already soaked from your own fluids. 

You heave, trying to control your breathing as he starts to rock in and out of you, keeping a firm grasp on your face. You need to let it happen, the sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner this is over. It needs to be over. Let it be over. 

His pace grows quicker and more harsh, a sob leaving you each time he punches into you with his thick cock. It hurts so much, always does when you’re dry like this. 

Suddenly, your arms are pulled above your head, Dave’s cock still shoved inside of you as he ties your wrists with the remnants of your panties. 

“I have something for you, slut,” Dave tells you, a tear slipping down your cheek as you keep trying to imagine yourself far away. 

That quickly becomes hard to do, because there’s suddenly a gross feeling coming from above your cunt and to the left. The feeling of your skin being sliced open. 

As soon as you realize what’s happening, a scream you didn’t know you had erupts from somewhere deep inside you. It’s full of an agonizing pain as your senses hone in on the way his pocket knife digs deeply. 

You know what he’s doing, what he’s threatened before. 

You know that the next time you look in the mirror, you’ll be able to see Dave York’s initials carved in front of your hip, deep enough to leave an ugly, jagged scar. 

Dave laughs as you scream and try to simultaneously move away and keep your body still. You don’t know what would be worse right now. 

It’s a white hot pain that courses through you as he moves on to the next letter, his movement sloppy from the way he still shallowly thrusts into you. The wetness of your blood dribbles down until it reaches his cock, making the glide easier yet as he pushes it back into you. 

He laughs even after your screaming stops, the shock taking over you and halting all reactions but the silent sobs that wrack your entire body. He pulls the knife away after a moment, after he’s sure he’s dragged the edge deep enough to be permanent.  

Your gaze focuses on the kitchen light again, and you can hear someone calling raspily for help. It’s weak and wet sounding, and you don’t quite understand where it’s coming from because you swear you’re not trying to say anything. 

“God damn,” Dave grits out. “Will you ever shut your whore mouth?” 

You suppose you do, because the sound stops, and the kitchen is filled with nothing but your whimpers and Dave’s moans. You can feel him getting close, the way he stutters and pulses. 

“Gonna come in this tight little pussy,” he grits, grinding himself down.

You don’t care what he’s going to do. You’d let him do anything to ensure that this will stop, that it won’t go on forever. You just want it to stop. 

You don’t realize he’s coming until he’s almost done. His seed stings as it hits your burning walls. 

You’ve stopped crying. Your throat’s dry, your eyes sting, your cheeks ache, your cunt throbs, your hips are littered with tender bruises, yet your mind is numb. 

Dave only lingers for a moment before he lifts off of you. He chuckles to himself as he says something, but you don’t think you could hear what even if you tried. Your hands fall limply away from each other as he uses his bloody pocket knife to cut away your restraints.

Your eyes close as he walks away, and you don’t try to open them again.

**** Thank you for reading, please lmk if you would like to join the countdown taglist <3

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

[themouthwasher]

sighhh, this is my selfship sideblog, for jimmy, i selfship with him

i guess you can call me LP, kinda like lp records lol, thatll be my nickname here, he/it pronouns, 18 years of age

taken by my beloved @swansuke (and jimmy too of course)

pleaseeeee check hidden theres some clarifications in there cause i know an account like this needs clarifications (plus a bit more random info bout me)

PLEASE READ THIS!!!

yes i know hes a horrible piece of shit, i dont support his actions, i hate him, but my brain says fuck all to morals when it comes to stuff thats fictional and decided "hey this guy seems silly, im gonna fall in love now!" whenever i think of lovey dovey stuff i try to place it in a sort of au where he didnt do... all of that. but yeah, theres really no "good" way to do it is there? i get most people will see it as wrong no matter which way i try to spin it so just please block and move on if you have a problem with it

not particularly proud of the fact i selfship with him (if you couldnt tell by how ive been talking about it so far) which is reason i made this blog, im not gonna admit this to anyone else so i might as well make an account where i can love him anonymously, honestly i have quite a bit of internal turmoil over loving him but thats to be expected when its... him. expect random bouts of "i fucking hate this man he makes me so mad /srs" immediately followed by doting on him cause my brain hates me being happy

tldr; i dont support his actions and lowkey hate the fact that i selfship with him, but hey i didnt chose to fall in love (if i could chose this would be a daisuke blog just sayin)

a bit about me

uhmm ive got autism, adhd, and bpd, and i feel like that definitely all shows itself in the way i act, i guess i act pretty unstable?? im also a very paranoid person, over like, everything, idk what causes it but its basically the stereotype of what people think of when they think of paranoia, i dunno i think that pmuch sums up whats wrong with me

i draw sometimes, though i doubt ill post anything, and i like music a lot, its my spintrest (but ill try to keep music talk to a minimum lest anyone manages to figure out who i am by my music taste) other than that uhhh i guess i like horror and bugs, and i bet youll never be able to guess what my favorite game is

no dni, if i have a problem with you ill block you and thats that, i guess im neutralship but really i do not careeeee, doubles can interact too! in fact please interact!! lets gush over jimmy together

tag list!!! woohoo!!! this post is also tagged with all of em so you (or more likely i) can easily click on them and get scrolling

"💚 i can fix this" is my rambling tag, check that out to see me talk about how much i unreasonably love that man

"💚 tuplars copilot" is for fanart reblogs

"💚 kills 99.9%" is my misc reblogs tag, whether it be non fanart posts about jimmy or completely unrelated posts that i reblogged with him in mind

"💚 polle says" is my ask tag, just any posts where im answering any asks i get

"💚 lp draws" is any of my art that i post, couldnt think of anything creative for this one

"💚 chatterbox" is me either talking to other people or posting stuff that doesnt really have anything to do with jimmy (and the tags not a reference, how revolutionary!)

"💚 i hope this hurts" is things reblogged/posted with hatred or anguish in my heart, i mightve actually got seething mad at jimmy seeing/making those posts but bleh whatever its jimmy so on the account it goes

"💚 not safe for tuplar" i think im so funny, i wont be rebloging anything too extreme and ill try to keep post like these to a minimum, but thats just there if you wanna mute it i guess

"💚 favorite posts" is self explanatory

[vllergy]

emerges from the ether for 5 seconds before vanishing again--i don't post here often i go through phases, the moon has phases i have phases whatever but i've been playing a lot of b@lders g@ate and while i don't think i'll ever feel comfortable writing canon character content (maybe h@lsin??? g@le??? who knows) this one NPC interaction had me by the throat. feat: tw: canon courtesan/sex worker NPC, kink!reader, second person narration since the game is like that, hunky sneezy drow man, honestly a lot of build up for little payoff im sorry idk what happened. i also don't know the word count im useless (dialog is in-game dialogue up until the lil time skip to his room, then it's all me baybbyeee)

The drow is one of the most handsome you’ve ever seen. Not that you expected him to be ugly, of course. The fabled drow twins of Sharress’ Caress are known far and wide for their talents as well as their beauty. Its just, seeing them in person is quite different from sustaining on mere rumor alone. Sorn Orlith, as he introduces himself, is rather muscular for a drow. He stands nearly a good head taller than you with a broad, brazenly defined chest. His outfit is nothing more than a metal cage topped over his heavy shoulders and flared out down his sternum like witch’s fingers, pointing towards an abdomen taut with muscle.

His long skirt rides around his hips but you can still see the shadow of indents against bluish-gray skin there, as if they are inviting you to take a closer look. They likely are. Nothing about his appearance is not meticulously crafted to draw you in. From the slight sheen on his lips that are plush and naturally the color of ripe blueberries, to the way his wintry hair is falls effortlessly back from his face in perfect waves. He is a vision, and yet his eyes are not cold and imperious like you might expect. They’re warm. Inviting. Somehow kind, despite what kind of debauchery goes on in a place like this. 

You ask him how he ended up here in the first place. Apparently, the Underdark isn’t kind to male courtesans. Also, he was bored.

“The entirety of drow culture is obsessed with bondage beyond reason. While such activities have their charms, I yearned to reach greater depths.” He gives a dazzling smile. “And there is no society on this planet more laterally, imaginatively and confusingly depraved as that of Baldur’s Gate. Although of late, I do feel I’ve seen everything. Perhaps you’ll show me something new?”

Your throat goes dry. 

“I’m…glad you’re happy here,” you manage out. 

Sorn laughs, but not unkindly “I’d have to restrain myself far more than any play-bindings do if I worked in another field. This is a place where I can be myself boundlessly.” 

His arms widen, emphasizing the violet taut flesh of muscle in his shoulders and biceps. You do your best not to stare.

“There are so many who come to me speaking of a fixation that no one else has ever been able to share with them…” he leans close, “And never will again. 

He smells of bergamot and brandy. It’s intoxicating. “A once in a lifetime moment of passion. Every day. What could be better? Don’t you want to try it?”

You do. And he can tell. His grin widens, almost wolfish. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to miss my signature Menzoberranzan Love Trick.”

—

With the door to Sorn’s private room shut, you feel a sense of calm overwhelm you. The room is beautiful—long enough to be someone’s home, crystals and plants glowing in every corner, a bed surrounded by flowers, shadows in all the right places. It looks like it was plucked free from the most beautiful parts of the Underdark and brought here to Wyrms Crossing. It feels comforting. Safe. 

“Now, are you going to tell me about this little secret of yours? Or would you prefer to keep me in the dark?”

Sorn’s voice startles you and he slips a hand around your waist, nosing at your neck as he comes from behind you. He releases you at the reaction, but doesn’t make a show of it. He’s masterful at what he does. Reading his partner, gauging their comfort level, adjusting and maneuvering as necessary. Your blushing cheeks must give you away because he gives you an encouraging smile instead and reaches for your wrists.

“Come, let us sit first. I find it’s easier to talk like that.”

He leads you to the foot of the bed. The sheets are luxurious, obsidian satin, and the mattress sinks with your weight. He sits close, angling his body towards you, but not so close as to crowd you. Your knees touch. You can see his breath flexing the hardened muscles of his torso and chest as he lingers there, expectant but not impatient. His hands cover yours in your own lap.

“It’s perfectly all right to be nervous,” Sorn continues, “But I assure you, your secret is safe with me. And not only that, it is *treasured*. I meant what I said earlier. There is very little that surprises me these days. Should you present me with something unexpected, I will be noting more than delighted.” 

You avoid his eyes, despite how gentle they are. You’ve never said this in front of anyone. But he’s right. Odds are, there are multiple someones in Baldurs Gate who have stranger interests than you. Sorn has likely indulged them all and without complaint. As he said downstairs, he rather enjoys this aspect of his work. Still, your tongue is in knots as you work up the nerve to say it. Your eyes travel up from his chin to his perfectly shaped mouth, the cupids bow of his lips and then finally the long, aquiline shape of his nose. It’s a fine nose. Prominent on his face and somehow as elegant as the rest of him, it captivates your attention for a moment. 

When you realize you’ve been staring for a moment too long, the confession rushes out of you in a breath, “Sneezing.”

Your face feels like it might explode from the heat. Sorn blinks. You expect him to laugh, or tell you to leave the room, or some other horrible outcome but instead he merely tilts his head. His hands give yours an assuring squeeze.

“And what about it do you like, my love?”

You lean over with a groan. You truly cannot believe you’re having this conversation—but his warm chuckle sends something fluttering in your chest and you gather the courage to straighten back up again and look him in the eye.

“I’m…not quite sure, I just know I enjoy it,” you say carefully, “And when my partners do it.”

“Mmm,” he says, contemplating, “So you’d like it if I sneezed for you then?”

Your lips purse, holding the answer hostage in your throat. You nod helplessly instead. He laughs again and releases one of his hands to brush a knuckle along your cheek.

“Look how red you are, it’s positively darling. Was that all, little bird? That was what you were so afraid to tell me?”

You nod again, nearly in tears. It’s off your chest now and it feels incredible, but it’s also freeing in a way that makes you feel raw and exposed. He’s being so kind about it that you’re not quite sure how to react. Emotions clash together, warring for dominance inside the confines of your skull. 

Sorn seems to understand immediately. His hand skirts below your jaw and tips your chin up as he leans forward and captures your lips with his own. It’s a simple, nearly chaste kiss. So featherlight and innocent that it feels like the sun peeking through the clouds. “Shh, shhh,” he soothes as he pulls away, “I think it’s wonderful. I will say it’s the first time I’ve encountered it, but I think it’s quite endearing.” He pulls away a little further, leaving you breathless. His white smile gleams. “And what an exciting challenge besides!” 

He releases you fully and stands from the bed, his hands on his hips. He looks about the room, brow furrowed in concentration. You’re still a little dazed from the kiss, wondering how he manages to taste like brandy and sweetwine and smell as good as he does while also trying to get your brain to stop swimming. You blink a few times to get your bearings as Sorn stalks to one of his shelves.

“Now, the only trouble is—“ he starts as he rifles through a few things, “There isn’t much that makes me sneeze, I’m afraid.”

Your stomach wilts a bit. Perhaps it was too much to hope that this strapping drow would have a terrible allergy to lavender. Though, to be fair, he hardly looks like the type to be beset by anything so pedestrian. Sorn is so maddeningly put together. From his perfect hair, meticulous ensemble and finely crafted expressions, he is clearly a man that keeps up appearances. Decorum is important to him. Should he ever be laid low by an allergy, you imagine he would fight it with the all the dignity and stoicism he so proudly displayed. 

Still—you didn’t work up all this nerve just to get here and *not* have anticipated something like this happening. Shyly, you let your fingers linger over the vial in your pocket. 

“I…may have something that will help,” you say.

Sorn turns from the shelf with what looks like a raven feather in his hand, his eyes bright. He looks positively delighted at the news.

“Oh I love when my clients come prepared,” he says, “You are a dream.”

“We could try that first, though,” you say, gesturing to the feather. There’s definitely something to that idea and it’s already stirring a feeling in your belly that has you shifting on the bed and your heart rising. There’s no possible way Sorn can know this, but somehow you sense he does, because his eyes sharpen their focus on you and his grin goes syrupy. 

“Lovely,” he comments and returns to your side. As he sinks back into the mattress, he gestures a hand. “Is here all right? Or would you like to do it somewhere else?”

“Here is fine,” you choke out. The idea that this is happening, really happening, is making your brain turn to lightning. You can hardly wait. 

He holds out the feather to you, “I assume you’d like to do the honors?”

You nod. The feather has little weight to it, and it’s gorgeous up close. The black shimmers with hues of purples and blues in the low light, glimmering in the reflection of your eyes. You run your eyes along the length of it and then find yourself starting at Sorn again, heart in  your throat.

“Is it… all right if I touch you?” you ask. You lean forward, hand with the feather outstretched, but think you may need to position yourself a little closer and brace yourself on his shoulder to get a good angle.

“Darling,” he laughs. He suddenly seizes your wrist and brings you closer, lowering his voice near your ear. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

You gulp as he slides back, demure and innocent as if he hadn’t just made goosebumps appear along your arms and thighs with his words alone. A nervous smile paints your lips and you do finally take his shoulder in your hand. You’re kneeling almost into his lap at this point and to support you, he draws an arm around your back. It’s so intimate you’re almost dizzy with the closeness alone, and you haven’t even gotten to—

The feather brushes at the corner of his mouth and his mouth twitches in a smile. Even just that response alone makes your heart race. From there, you slowly move it up to the indent above his mouth, and then his septum. He wrinkles his nose, skin avoiding the stimulation on instinct before he wrests his control back. He smiles but says nothing, allowing you to continue. 

You draw the tip of the feather around one nostril. It quivers in response, but otherwise, Sorn’s eyes remained focused on you. You test a bit farther, drawing slow, soft circles. There isn’t anything for a few seconds, and then he starts to blink, irritated tears prickling in his eyes. He sniffs a few times and then has to cough, politely turning his head away on instinct as he does so. “Apologies,” he says and then grins, “What a strange sensation.”

“Are you all right?” you ask. 

“Very much so,” he nods, “Please, continue.”

You do, but to mixed results. You’re certainly irritating his nasal passages, but sadly not enough to make him sneeze. After a few minutes of attempting, all you’ve really done is making him cough and cry irritated tears. Disappointed, you’re about to give up when he takes your wrist again, holding the feather inside his nose.

“W-wait,” he says, “I had it for but a moment.”

Your heart stutters. Carefully, you twist the feather as you had been a moment earlier. His eyelashes, pale as new fallen snow, sweep his cheeks and a breath catches on the roof of his mouth. The hand that was around your wrist falls slack, fingers drifting down towards your elbow.

“Yes, I feel it,” he whispers. 

His grip around your back tightens and he draws in another breath. His eyebrows crumple and hoist upwards and his nose practically twitches. 

“Hh—hiiyh—“ 

As his expression snaps, you pull the feather away just in time. His head wrenches away as the sneeze whisks through him. 

“Hi-ISSHh!” 

It’s a spartan, nearly soft sound. Wet, given the amount of torture his nose has been put through for the last few unproductive minutes, but otherwise without frills or embellishments. It’s a very honest sneeze you think, but perhaps one he was not entirely prepared for. By his clenched teeth you think he might have held back at the last moment out of some sense of propriety. The way he lightly touches the backs of his knuckles to the underside of his nose in the aftermath and gives a delicate sniff further enforces your theory. 

Still, it was a sight. 

“Blessings,” you say, enraptured. 

Sorn recovers quickly and smiles at you. 

“Did you—snf—enjoy that? I am sorry it took so long.”

Your red cheeks are enough of a glowing recommendation, but you nod anyway. Feeling a little braver, and a little desperate for him now that you’ve seen him lose control the once, your hand slips down against his abdomen. The warm skin there flexes against your palm as he breathes in. He hums a soft noise of approval and clasps his hand over yours before leaning in to kiss you. There’s just the briefest moisture in the kiss, only you would ever notice it, and it sets your brain on fire. 

“Perhaps we should try your method instead,” he suggests when he pulls away for a breath, kissing a line across your jaw and to your throat next, “It might be more…productive.” 

You feel dizzy. His hand skirts along your thigh and meets the joint of your hip, squeezing with enough pressure to make you moan. 

“If you’re sure,” you say, “It can be…strong.” It’s only fair to warn him, after all. Everyone reacts differently, but you’ve never not seen it work on someone.

“All the better,” he hums against the hollow of your throat, nipping softly at the skin, “I simply won’t have you leaving here disappointed.”

You shift upwards to get access to your pocket. Sorn discards the sodden feather and watches with curious, eager eyes. When you reveal the tiny glass vial, he smirks. 

“I see,” is all he says before nodding his head toward the collection of pillows at the head of the bed, “Let’s get more comfortable first, shall we?”

Moments later, you’re lying side by side, both propped up by pillows and surrounded by the soft glowing plants and crystals that make a canopy of the bed. Sorn holds himself up on an elbow and examines the vial that looks comically small in his much larger fingers. You lay your cheek against one of the pillows and stare up at him, still feeling your heartbeat pound in your ears. You’d thought this would have gotten easier after seeing it happen once, but the idea of seeing it happen again is almost worst. Now that you know the sound, know how his lip curls a little, how his eyes flutter—all you want to do is see it more, see him unravel.

“So, just a pinch of this?” Sorn asks. He seems more curious than anything. Like he doesn’t quite totally believe that whatever is in there is actually going to be able to make him sneeze.

“Mhmhm,” you say. 

He grins and sets to work. A hefty pinch between his thumb and forefinger is gathered and then quickly—and in a rather sophisticated manner—snorted up one nostril. It doesn’t seem to cause him any harm like you worried it might, and he merely clears his throat once it’s over and brushes his hands off. 

“Oh, it’s lovely,” he comments, “Almost medicinal.” 

You can’t answer him because you can’t breathe. You’re waiting for something. Anything. A flicker of his expression, a quiver of his nose, something to indicate that the powder is set to work. But nothing happens. Sorn merely looks back at you questioningly. 

“When does it start to take effect?” he asks.

“Usually right away.”

He frowns, “Oh. Perhaps I should take more?”

You saw the amount he took. It was already sizable. Any more and you’d be concerned for him. You quickly shake your head, “No, I wouldn’t. Maybe it’s just…slow to start.”

Sorn huffs, his disappointment mirroring your own. He sets the vial aside and turns back to you, pulling you flush against his body. That’s still nice, sneezing or no. Every hard angle of him presses against you and the heat of his skin makes you shudder. He kisses you deeply and you can still smell the slightly earthy scent of the powder on him as you return it. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmurs close to your mouth, “I’ve done nothing but disappoint you tonight.”

You blink up at him, “That’s not true!” 

He sighs and tucks a bit of your hair behind your ear. “It is, but I promise you, I will make it up to you. We still have plenty of time, and there are other things we can do, besides.”

Sorn dips an arm under you and pulls you flat against the bed, hovering over you. He grins down at you and starts to remove your top. 

“Is this alright?” he asks softly.

You nod, nearly choking on your want for him. Everywhere he uncovers bare skin, he lavishes in kisses until you’re bare from the waist up and the two of you are flesh against flesh. His skin sears yours with warmth. He trails fingers down your sternum and then down to your bellybutton, then lower. 

“You are a delightful little thing,” he says. His voice is velvet, and his warm breath paints down your ribs as he follows the path of his hand. 

You feel the gasp as much as you hear it. It’s a sudden, reckless thing—so quick that neither of you are prepared for it. Sorn’s expression flinches for just a moment and he barely has time to turn his head to the side before a sneeze completely overtakes him—misting your side in the process. “hh-EDSHHH’iuh!” 

You’re stunned. Sorn looks like he might be too, if not for the telltale signs of another impending sneeze close behind the first. He shifts and places a hand on your hip as he sits up a little. You watch as his upper lip curls over bright teeth and his nostrils flare once before he wrenches away from you successfully this time. “hhHH’RRSCCH!” This one is stronger than the last, more voice to it. It shakes him and you by extension on the mattress.

“Bless you,” you say, but he shakes his head. His hand squeezes your hip gently as if to say ‘not yet’. “Hih-ih!”

His fist goes to his mouth before you can stop it, and he squelches the last sneeze into submission. His eyes cinch shut and he bends at the waist, shoulders trembling as the colossal sound is contained to nothing more than a whisper. “hHh-nGXST!” 

He opens his eyes, though somewhat warily. As if he’s not sure the tickle is quite gone yet. He gives a cagey sniffle and blots his knuckle under his nostrils, “Goodness.” Then, he turns to you and finds your gaze positively enraptured. He smiles. 

“I suppose it does work ah-after all!” He rubs at the tip of his nose for a moment and then flutters his eyes, “I do hope you’re ready for more because it seh—seems…” 

Your hand goes to his chest. You feel the swell of his breath deepen, the warm feeling of his skin moving under your fingers. Sorn seems to get the idea because his palm reaches up to cover yours. His fingers wrap around your palm as his breath continues to snag. You catch his eyes just for a moment before they slide back. 

“hHH’RRSCh’euh!” He trembles under your touch with the force of it. He lifts his head just barely, eyebrows canted desperately, and then pitches downwards again, spraying your arm with abandon. “hh’AEEShhh’ah!” 

“Such a tickle,” he says breathily as he recovers. He gives a wet sniffle and smiles at you, but it’s hazy, the look in his eyes already distracted by the mounting itch. But he doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he’s enjoying the newness of the sensation. The break from monotony. 

His nostrils flare and he releases his hand to rub his knuckle against his septum once more. 

You feel a little bold for asking, “Are you all right?”

He nods, smiling. He tries to hold your eyes but the tickle steals his concentration once more. 

“Quite!Just—hh…sn’tsCHh’eeze-hhHH! H’RRSHC’hu!” 

You reach your other hand up to stroke through his hair and turn him a little more towards you as he prepares for another. He resists at first out of instinct alone, but adjusts in the moment it takes for the sneeze to have its way with him. As his breath snaps, he ducks his head in the space between you and releases it into your lap. “hh”hRRRASsh’chu!” 

“Bless you,” you say, smoothing back his hair. You crawl into his lap and he welcomes you without hesitation, securing your thighs around his hips even as his head tilts back for two more with barely a breath in between. He ducks them between the two of you but there isn’t much space. His hands clench against your thighs with each outburst. “hh-eHH’SCCHE’uh! h’RRSH’ue!” 

Blearily, he looks up. He’s dazed. Sniffly. His cheeks are indigo and the area around his nostrils is too. You kiss him, because he just looks so stupidly *kissable* and he murmurs a laugh against your mouth. 

“It is quite comforting thatyou find me attractive in such a state,” he sniffs once you pull away. 

“Very attractive,” you remind him.

He smiles, and continues smiling even as his expression flickers again. “Ah, one-hh more perhaps,” he says.  He raises a hand in front of his face and a rather tired sounding sneeze ripples through him. “hH’EDShh!”

“Bless you.”

“I don’t thhhink I’ve ever snhheezed so much in my life-hh!” He leans his forehead onto your shoulder and does away with using his hand to cover, opting to simply hold onto your hips and let the sensation take him. “hh’UEHDSHH’iu!” You stroke his bare back and feel his ribs expand beneath your fingers before tightening twice in quick succession. “hh’NGXT! nG’ssT!” 

He clears his throat after and lifts his head back up, adjusting you on his lap. “Ah, I should have asked, do you prefer if I hold them in or let them out? Often I don’t know which it will be until it happens but… perhaps I could try…try to—”

His eyes roll and he turns his head, giving you a clear view of his twitching profile. “If I could juhhst get through a sehh’ESsch!—sentence!” 

“I don’t mind either way, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself if you hold them in,” you say to try and spare him. 

“Oh, darling, it takes much more than that to hurt me,” he wriggles his nose handsomely and turns back to you with a devilish grin. His eyebrows raise. “And lo! A full sentence! The effects must be wearing off.” He sniffs experimentally and for the first time, his eyes don’t get hazy in the aftermath. 

You feel disappointment sink your heart like a stone. It was bound to wear off eventually. But before you can even lament the course of events, he pats your thigh and shifts you off his lap. 

“Come, where’s the vial?” 

You blink. Surely he doesn’t want to do more of that?

He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking because he taps the bottom of your chin and winks.

“Oh, we’re far from finished, love. Ready for round two?”

[dungeonclown]

Dungeonclown D20 “Rankings”

In quotes bc i love pretty much all of them and just had to post this for posterity and if one of my friends asks which season(s) to watch. [Bullet Points not in any particular order]

Level 0: did not finish

Pirates of Leviathan (lovely cast but i couldnt get all the way thru due to audio quality issues from being the first remotely recorded show.)

Shriek Week (gabe hicks)

Coffin Run (didn’t hold my interest)

Level 1: I Really Like This 😊

Fantasy High Sophomore Year (i love this season, literally the only downside was the livestream format. No!!)

Fantasy High (OG - we’ve come so far)

Tiny Heist (i mean, so darling, so funny. what so u expect)

Mice & Murder (better quality for remote but could tell the cast would have killed it in person since the zoom call situation is a big barrier)

Misfits & Magic (very cute and wholesome. Spaulding forever)

The Seven (needed more episodes to tell the story!!! wish they had sets and minis; covid problems)

Neverafter (love the themes and imagery, such a good study on storytelling.)

Dungeons & Drag Queens (fave sidequest character art and minis, mainly so impressed by brennans skill as a gm for new players/roleplayers)

Level 2: I Absolutely Love This 🤩

Fantasy High Junior Year (first show watched as it was airing, best FH yet, mary anne skuttle what more could u ask for)

Unsleeping City Part 2 (literally only downside is being filmed remotely. Breaks my heart they couldnt do this in person since this season is so special. BUT - got to see character art and illustrated backgrounds which was really fun)

A Crown of Candy (goddamnit brennan)

The Ravening War (goddamnit matt)

Mentopolis (superb cast w great chemistry and just lots of fun idk man i just think theyre neat)

Burrow’s End (fucking incredible storytelling by aabria, the cast, the crew w sets and minis and SHADOW PUPPETS goddamn.)

Never Stop Blowing Up (so stupid so joyful im just happy to be here)

Level 3: Has a Special Place In My Heart 🥰

Unsleeping City (some of my all time favorite characters and i just love how deeply these people love and understand New York City. Its the molecular structure of NYC in a show and its special)

Escape from the Bloodkeep (the first season i was like I Have To Stop Immediately And Share This With My Family. Every character is perfect. Every NPC is perfect. The minis and sets are darling. Every day i think about Hamhead and about muh hert)

A Court of Fey & Flowers (i just love them, i never thought id be invested in regency shit but if you put it in the feywild and add goblins and hobgoblins and owlbears and idiot bird people and shit im so down goddamn. Killed it. Absolutely killed it. Also gorgeous sets and costumes and props??? Gagged.)

Level 4: Rewired My Brain Chemistry 💀

A Starstruck Odyssey (screaming, crying, throwing up. The energy of these people being in person after covid creates a truly incredible maelstrom of dumb beautiful bozo shenanigans. id give a kidney for more ASO content. I Love This Show. And that it was based off of Starstruck is so fuckin special. This setting is amazing. also big barry syx is the exact bullseye of character im obsessed with that it makes me feral to think about him. I was going to joke that he was made in a lab specifically to appeal to my big beefy sex idiot himbo mercenary sensibilities but thats exactly his backstory and im mad about it)