#just feels like i missed something everyone else got

[dulcescorderitas]

catching Sam researching how to pleasure you

parings: sam winchester x reader

warnings: 18+, fluff, implied smut

sam was hunched over at the kitchen table, his laptop glowing faintly in the dim light. at first, you thought he was buried in research for the next hunt—looking into local lore, tracking patterns, something serious and grim like always. but as you got closer, his posture gave him away. the way his shoulders were just a little too tense, his fingers hovering above the trackpad like he was second-guessing every click.

you didn’t mean to spy, but when you saw the headline on the screen, it stopped you in your tracks. how to make her beg for it: tips for driving her crazy in bed.

your breath caught. was he... researching you? your cheeks warmed as your eyes darted back to him. his brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line as he scrolled slowly through the page, his head tilted in that way he always did when he was trying to fully absorb something.

“...okay, so start slow. tease first. make her feel like she’s the only thing that matters...” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

your chest tightened—not with embarrassment, but with something warmer, heavier. this was sam. the guy who never let himself have anything he thought he couldn’t hold onto, who always put everyone else first. and here he was, trying to figure out how to make you feel... better.

a slow grin spread across your face as you leaned against the doorway. “so,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife, “this is what research looks like now?”

sam froze, his whole body going stiff before he slammed the laptop shut, his ears burning red. “shit! i thought you were still asleep.”

you laughed softly, crossing the room to him. “and miss seeing this? no way.” you gestured at the laptop, quirking a brow. “you could’ve just asked, you know.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “i didn’t want to screw it up. i thought if i... i dunno, learned a few things, maybe—” he broke off, looking at you like he expected you to laugh at him.

instead, you slid into his lap, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “sam,” you murmured, your voice dropping low. “you already make me feel amazing. but this? doing homework on how to pleasure me? god, that’s hot.”

his hands hovered awkwardly near your hips before finally settling there, his grip uncertain. “so, you’re not... weirded out?” he asked, his voice soft.

“weirded out?” you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “i think it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

his breath hitched, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “oh, yeah?” he asked, his voice rough now.

“mm-hmm,” you murmured, tilting your head to brush your lips against his jaw. “now, why don’t you show me what you’ve been learning, professor?”

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[inksandpensblog]

Still fascinated by how much hate Mitsi gets for the whole "dead fem-coded loved one backstory" thing and all the hangups surrounding that when Purple's mom is arguably a much more egregious instance of the thing everyone is upset about Mitsi for but she ultimately got a pass because...idk, she was The First?

[alyjojo]

PAC - January 2025 - Who’s Stalking You? 👀

Pile 1: Whips 💥

This would probably be the first pile one thinks of when they think of their “stalkers” - jealous bitches 💯 of the worst variety. Whips with Fury shows them being so bitter they can’t stand it, like you’ve stolen their opportunities or blessings, it’s your fault they don’t have what you have - or they just hate you for it. These are people that do NOT want you to win, and if they had the choice, they’d enact some kind of revenge on you to make sure you don’t…but it feels like most are powerless to do so, that’s why they’re so bitter, they can only watch you win and be all pissed off about it.

This stems from feelings of regret, wishing they’d have made different decisions or were offered different opportunities. If you have money, they don’t. If you had some kind of blessing or privilege to your life, they don’t. For some reason they were/are unable to do what you do, and rather than admire you or give you your flowers 💐, they just burn inside because it’s not them. These are not self-aware or mature people, they feel powerless to direct their own life (valid or not), some may be genuinely struggling (they’re largely unconscious of this behavior) and others just suck and it’s definitely intentional hate & evil eyes 👀 being thrown your way every time you have something positive going on, or just you existing. Your light irritates tf out of their demons 😈 They are all unaware or don’t care that this kind of energy & behavior won’t get them anywhere positive.

I don’t see them changing either, if they’re unaware then they’re unable, this is not a growth-minded group of people. They’d rather blame everyone else and point fingers, nurturing revenge fantasies and hating you then ask how you did it, or learn from you. Patience can show they may have felt this way for a long time, there’s no helping them. While it does show they could be in a not great situation, it’s also showing you are not expected to give af, they’re assholes. Red Moon shows their intentions, perceptions, fears, and triggers as delusional, pessimistic, hateful, angry and toxic. You can’t help these people, it’s up to them to help themselves and with 9 Pentacles rev, they won’t. If you even tried, they’d just despise you for being a person that tries 😆 Do you. Keep shining 🌟

Signs: Heavy Virgo & Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio, Aries & Sagittarius - Jupiter Virgo, Mercury Taurus, Mars Scorpio

—————————————— 🤎

Pile 2: Sun ☀️

You are the pearl in the oyster and this is the group of people that knows this but they don’t have you anymore, and they miss you. It’s also the pile most likely for you to give them a call, because for most it’s family. Parents, grandparents, ex’s that aren’t toxic, but most feel like guardians of some kind. Teachers, bosses, leaders, older siblings, people who tried to steer you in a direction that wasn’t for you - and you went your own way anyway and SUCCEEDED. That’s the thing, and there is shame here in these people…but it’s like the intentions were good? People misjudged you. They thought you were like them, or the rest, or some other experience that narrowed the mind and put you in a box.

All of you have reached some level of success, recognition, status, maybe fame in some way - or at least on the path you’re on, you’re well known. Or you will be. There’s guilt here about not supporting you in the way you needed, not loving you correctly, and ultimately losing you. Could be divorced parents for someone, an estranged parent, someone that…it’s like they didn’t believe in you, or brushed you off. Like your whole life you drew pictures and got in trouble - now you’re an artist, that’s the vibe. They know they can’t take credit and that they tried to force or steer you in directions that weren’t for you. If you’re one of several children, you could’ve all been parented the same way; these are the rules, these are the goals, in this family we all go to this college and study Business…and you’re the artist. Or the gay kid. Or the theater kid, I’m definitely getting theater strongly. That’s the vibe 💯

The point of it all is love, Eternal Love with the white heart is showing purity and coming from the right place, even if they were wrong. They want forgiveness, want you to call, if it’s an ex they see you clearly now and want you back. For some there was a particular event that caused an ending, there could’ve been heavy Judgment energy and a lack of feeling supported, some of you may have ran away or did something impulsively - or they did. It ended. There’s also a note here about passed on loved ones, if a tragedy happened where you couldn’t say goodbye or the last words were in anger/judgment, they’re okay, they’re with you all of the time and support you now 🙏 There’s no lingering anger just love.

If none of that applies, then these people simply miss the time they had with you, the lollipop 🍭 shows childhood - for most it’s your parents or someone like that. They’re nostalgic and look at old pictures of you, they miss the little kid coming in with muddy shoes even though they always yelled about it - now they wish they didn’t. This one made me cry ngl. Call your grandma or whoever this is…they feel like they can’t access you. Either you’re busy, they think you’re angry, they don’t want to impose, The Pathless shows them feeling like there are no options or you’re not on their path anymore and they can’t. For some that’s true. For others they’re leaving it up to you, but the love is genuine, they are both proud of you and ashamed of themselves in some way - maybe too much - and they don’t want you to know that, because they do want you to be happy. Even if you don’t, the love is never ending and they’ll just keep watching from afar 🧡 For the passed on loved ones, they know you’re sad or lonely without them, and they just want you to know they’re okay and they’re watching you WIN - they want you to win & they’re proud 👏

Signs: Heavy Scorpio & Cancer, Gemini & Capricorn - Saturn Gemini, Mars Taurus, Mars Aries

—————————————— 🧡

Pile 3: Letter ✉️

Heh 😏 This is the “you were right” pile 😆 You are some sort of a teacher to this person, could be a parent, ex, friend, stranger, doesn’t matter - YOU are wise and they are/were…manipulative, liars, schemers, cheaters, fools of some variety, and you didn’t deserve it if they did any of that to you. Now it’s 50/50, sure some are sorry but they’ll never admit it; others would just do it again and they know they would, even if they also know you’re right.

Even if they’re wrong, and even if you’re often right, these people quietly judge everything you say or do just looking for the one thing that’s like SEE THEY’RE WRONG LIKE ME, like this somehow excuses their own shitty behavior. They think YOU think you’re better than them when you’re just an honest person, and you even drop some pearls of wisdom on them because you’re not a judging sort of person either - you share the wealth of whatever you’re doing. A genuinely kind person. So you are better, as a human generally. Fuck you though 😆 They could too but they’d rather be immature and sabotagy. These are also people you need to watch out for, they see your kindness as weakness, stupidity, or naïve - while also knowing you’re a good person like wtf guys…if you have a platform or social media, this would be the trash diggers of the bunch. Digging for trash so they can compare yours to theirs, you to them, and I’m seeing raccoons 🦝 which made me laugh. Some may want to or try to steal from or copy you, manipulate things, even try to flirt or butter you up - but it’s with this shady ass manipulative energy - it’s not going anywhere. You feel untouchable to them because they’re not on your level, whatever level that is, it’s that simple.

Letter shows you receiving good news, which makes these people squirm, anything positive being said about you or happening to you. Everyone has their haters /ignore. If you post helpful things, recipes, dance is here showing some amazing craft or talent you do, religious stuff, wholesome happy healthy anything - these people don’t understand wtf healthy or wholesome is, so they mock and criticize and dig for trash. Let them? I mean they’re still watching. Your biggest haters are clearly just misguided fans 🥳 Some may be complete strangers, most of them even, I don’t see these people being in your life for the most part, nor do I see you noticing or caring at all. You just keep doing you boo, clearly you’re doing something right or they wouldn’t have to dig so much for something that’s wrong. You’re out here dropping wisdom, knowledge, guidance, helpful advice, whatever - let them talk, at least they heard you, and if/when they find themselves in positions where they need what you’ve said, the best karma is the burn they feel when “you were right.” Unconsciously even, for most 🤗

Signs: Heavy Scorpio, Libra, Cancer & Taurus - Venus Sagittarius, Mars Virgo, Jupiter Scorpio, there’s also a Gemini vibe but it feels like you or communication is what it’s all regarding

———————————————- 🖤

Pile 4: Garden 🪴

I’m getting two sets of people with this pile, the fans and the opposition.

The fans see you as a Muse, whatever it is that you do, you probably have a lot of friends, fans, admirers, love options potentially, and they’re afraid they don’t compare, that you don’t like them back or you’re out of their league. Deep rooted insecurity, shyness, projections - but essentially they just want to BE you or at least be in your energy. Some may want to be with you romantically, but that’s a side note not the main idea, most are fans. Friends, people that think you’re really cool and they wish they could hang out with you or do what you do. You’re like a guide for these people and they deeply appreciate your contribution to whatever it is you do 🥳 You may inspire them to make decisions in their own lives, and not even know it.

The opposition feels like “the patriarchy” or some shit, that’s the vibe. You don’t do things their way, you contradict their “facts”, they may not appreciate the gifts you have to offer and as such they only want to control, cage, maneuver, schedule, criticize, keep you small because how dare you be out here just doing you and being great at it. Or they feel that way about you and it’s all switched. You could be part of a group that is in opposition to another group and it’s the whole other group watching. It’s like white collar jobs vs. community volunteers, you can’t compete where you don’t compare and these people do not compare but they’d be the ones like “glad our tax dollars are going towards playgrounds”…shut up. No one cares. Luckily, this group is a scattered few.

Most are fans that ADORE you, your group or community, and whatever you’re doing. You inspire others and really make an impact with whatever you do. Teachers, counselors, community centered things, music directors, it feels very people oriented and not very rigid - it’s the rigid people with an issue or comment. “The man.” Does not have to be A man. I’m miserable and you should be too. I’m taught one way, you should be too. Ick. For some it’s literally the government or some higher organization that doesn’t support what you do. I’m seeing Planned Parenthood, don’t @ me I promise idgaf, I see what I see be mad. I’m also seeing charities…and what are those dances that everyone gets together on the street and films for TikTok or something, I’m seeing those too. Community support or a generational thing even, the boomers are mad at you guys 😆

The fans though, you’re making a difference in the lives of other people, changing perspectives, inspiring change, getting support, and you’re doing it in a way that’s giving people LIFE. Changing the narrative. Forging your own path with all of this Aries energy, both within and some stalkers maybe. Most people want to be you, or they want to help, want to take a part in this or have a seat at your table - in support. It’s admirable and most of you that chose this, I don’t get you being closed off to anyone, though they may fear it. Locked Heart ❤️ came out reversed, you’re someone always willing to make new friends, invite people to your table, it’s giving “the more the merrier,” which is great! Ignore the naysayers and let them squirm idk, for the most part it’s showing them as silent. In this pile, the winners are louder than the losers 📣 and if you’re feeling unappreciated, just know there are way more people that love and support you than hate you - you got the sauce and you’re widely adored. Idk if you’d even know the haters, they’re quiet and will stay that way, just leave ‘em be. You’re deeply appreciated where it matters 💚

Signs: Heavy Aries, Virgo, Leo & Capricorn - Jupiter Aries, Moon Leo

[majoryeager104]

dabi with a user who gets cold easily? :33

Awwww this is gonna be so cute okay <3

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“You’re shivering again”

“really?”

“Yeah, you’re shakin’ like a drug addict”

“gee, didn’t notice”

You shivered again, glancing around the room at the heater. It wasn’t out, but it was crappy and old and didn’t seem to work well. The league had found this place on a rather cold night, snow billowing over the sidewalk just outside, and here you were still freezing your butt off even inside. Everyone else seemed to be fine, especially Dabi, but when wasn’t he? And now here he sat next to you with that dumb grin on his face teasing you as usual. He couldn’t help it, really, not when you looked just adorable shivering like that.

And yet, his little playful jabs hit the wrong nerves, and you pouted and crossed your arms, the latter being less of a sign of agitation and more of you trying to keep yourself warm. Dabi looked up at the other members- all busy either talking or gaming or scrolling on their phones- before rolling his eyes.

You see, the two of you had been seeing each other for a while, and he had no intention of making this fact too public. He knew the rest of the league (Toga) would pry, and he didn’t want it ‘getting in the way’ of his missions (a doubt planted by an unknowing Shigaraki)

Still, watching you shiver with that pout on your face, he couldn’t help but let that smile melt into something far more real as he moved closer and wrapped an arm around you. It almost startled you how much heat radiated off of him; every time he touched you it was a shock, but this time, a well welcomed one.

You looked up at him- not missing that soft gaze that held yours- before smiling yourself and settling in under his arm. He scoffed, trying to sound annoyed despite the smile on his face. Eventually he leaned his head back against the back of the couch, his eyes shutting. Something about feeling you under his arm that made him feel…safe, in a number of ways. Before he knew it, he was falling asleep.

You noticed, looking up at him, nervous to move for fear you’d wake him. You knew how little sleep he got, just what his physical trauma had caused him, and so you stayed quiet and let him sleep, smiling to yourself at not only his warmth but the soft smile that still lingered on his face.

Dabi’s sleep was rather gently disturbed sometime later. The heater had sputtered out and died, and despite him not noticing as much, he seemed to be the one carrying the load of the machine, because when he opened his eyes the remaining league members in the room were huddled around him.

Shigaraki sat next to him with his arms crossed, shrugging. Toga lay across the back of the couch with her head on his shoulder, twice was rubbing his hands and sticking them towards Dabi in a rather dramatic attempt for warmth. Magne was over by the heater attempting to repair it with Compress, both of whom were huddled in blankets and looking over at the warm pile around Dabi rather longingly… and then there was you, fast asleep under his arm. He blushed, rolling his eyes once more

“you people are such daisies…” he muttered, glancing around at them.

“bet you didn’t say that to y/n!” Toga teased, practically in his ear, causing him to flinch for a moment, scoffing. “No. No I didn’t. Gonna sue?” He retaliated, nudging her head off his shoulder. “Nope, just gonna tell ya that y/n told us we could huddle around you like a campfire after the heater went out”

Dabi’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced down at you, but soon his expression softened when he saw how peaceful you looked.

“Of course they did..”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

I think I’ve used this song like recently but I LOVE IT so I’m using it anyway 😌👌

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Twenty Three

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

I let out a deep breath while pulling my jacket closer to my chest as I continued the walk down the busy streets of New York City. It was after six in the evening and everyone was rushing to get home to enjoy the rest of their evening while I was trying to make it to the office in time, before he left. 

This wasn’t an easy decision I made, knowing the consequences that could follow. But I didn’t have any other choice. He was the only one that could help me with this.  

The thought of if he would even want to help me did cross my mind a few times, especially with how things ended, but there was a small part of me that hoped his feelings for me were still strong. Strictly to help me with my problem, nothing else. 

I hadn't talked to any of the three men I used to work with, deciding to stay off of social media because I couldn’t bother to see what happened with Bucky and Natasha. By now, he had to have realized that I was right; Natasha was faking the entire pregnancy. 

Yet, I hadn’t heard from him so maybe he still decided to stay with her. 

You told him to stay away. Eight months ago.

Shaking away the thought, I turned the corner and the all too familiar building came into view as with one last deep breath, I pushed through the door and my eyes landed on the person sitting at what used to be my desk. My heart hammered in my chest as his scent filled my senses. 

“Well, it seems like the job isn’t available anymore, huh?” 

He turned around in a haste in the chair, eyes grazing over every inch of me to make sure I had been standing in front of him. 

The last time we talked was a few months ago and we actually hadn’t seen each other since before I quit. He looked the same, hair and beard a bit longer. 

“Hi Steve,” I smiled. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve was quick on his feet to wrap his arms around me and lifted my body off of the ground a few inches. I closed my eyes at the warmth, silently missing him just as much. 

“How have you been?” Steve asked while setting me back onto solid ground. 

I nodded. “Good, I guess. How have things been here?” 

Steve hesitated, his shoulders going stiff. “Have you talked to him at all?” 

This time I shook my head so Steve gently led me to the couch in the main area of the office and we sat next to each other. He scratched at his beard, trying to find the right way to say this. 

“He’s gone rogue the last couple of months. He doesn't need mine or Sam’s help for anything, he takes care of the problems himself.” 

I pointed towards his office. “Is he here?” 

Steve shook his head. “I haven't seen him all day. He called me earlier to say he’s got something to take care of so he’s going to be at Power Brokers tonight.” 

My eyes narrowed. “He hates that club. Why would he go there?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “He doesn’t tell Sam or I anything anymore. We only show up here now in case he needs us.” 

“Are he and Nat-?” 

He placed a hand on my knee, stopping the words. “That’s something Bucky has to talk to you about.” 

With a slow nod, I contemplated my next move because I knew that if I went to Power Broker tonight, it would be a disaster from the start. That club was highly known as a black market, people trying to sell you things that you couldn’t buy anywhere else. But if you didn’t agree to it it would be highly unlikely that you would make it back out alive. 

“Are you going to tell me why you showed up tonight?” 

I gave Steve my attention now and shrugged. “Trust me, I would rather go to anyone else with this but Bucky is the only one that can help me.” 

He cupped my cheek. “Please be careful.” 

“Always,” I covered his hand with my own. 

The music of the club vibrated against my bones as I maneuvered my way through the seas of people, who did their best to either dance with me or sell me on their latest project they had hiding in their pocket. I ignored all of them, keeping my focus on finding the one person that I needed. 

When I asked the bouncers outside if they had seen Bucky, they were quick to give him up. 

“He’s been causing problems here all night but refuses to leave. The men we have here isn’t nearly as strong as he is to kick him out.”

I was on high alert, skin tingling with my senses, as I observed the giant open dance floor of the club until some commotion at the bar piqued my interest. I watched as a guy was thrown onto the glass bar top, black and gold fingers wrapped around his throat. 

“Where is she?!” 

The voice was deep, angry, and wanted to know the answers. 

My heart beat intensified as I marveled at how different he looked yet looking exactly the same. The brown leather vest that covered his broad chest was missing a sleeve, his entire vibranium arm on full display.  He didn’t look like a mob boss any longer but more so a soldier. 

The heat pooled between my legs but I squeezed them shut, knowing that now wasn't the time to think about that. 

“I swear, I don’t know where she is! Last I heard, they were in Budapest!” The man struggled for his life under the tight grip around his throat. 

“They were together?” 

The man on the bar nodded, as best he could. “That’s what my guys tell me.” 

As I saw a glimmer of sharp metal emerge from the pocket of the other man's vest, I finally decided to speak up. 

“Bucky.” 

My voice might have been hushed with the background noise of the club but I knew he heard because Bucky looked away from the man he had pinned, his once blue iris now dark stared back at me. The firmness in his body faded with his face softing, as he dropped the man to the floor below. 

“Doll?” 

I swallowed thickly at the old pet name because I couldn't get distracted, I needed to finish what I came for. 

“I need your help,” I admitted with a sigh. 

[aphoticarachne]

What is this feeling?

Tom Riddle x reader

Chapter iii

Chapter ii

Warning: choking?? Whoops

a/n: I hate this chapter sm oh my god

September’s chill clung to the stone walls of the castle, sharp and unrelenting. The Great Hall, usually alive with chatter, had quieted to a murmur as a few determined students hunched over their books. You sat at the far edge of the Slytherin table, the last traces of daylight casting fleeting shadows over the polished wood.

Zelda had insisted you leave the library, claiming you needed a break from your relentless study habits, though her version of "reviewing" was little more than thinly veiled gossip.

When you mentioned being paired with Tom Riddle for your Potions project, she recoiled as if struck, her disdain for him as palpable as his contempt for you.

"How do you even breathe in the same room as him?" Zelda hissed, her lips curling into something between a sneer and a grimace. "If it were me, I’d have cursed him six ways to Sunday."

"I hate him as much as you do," you murmured, your eyes fixed on the dense text before you, though the words blurred into meaningless lines.

"Hate isn’t enough," she snapped. "Everyone knows he’s been gunning for you since first year, and for what? You’re brighter than him, that’s what it is. Can’t handle the competition." She leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. "If I were you, I’d tell Slughorn to shove his cauldron—"

"Ladies."

His voice cut through the air like a knife, low and deliberate. You stiffened, the pages of your spellbook forgotten as you glanced up to meet his gaze.

Tom stood just beyond the table, perfectly composed as always, the golden light from the stained-glass windows spilling over his features, giving him an otherworldly, almost angelic quality. But you knew better—angels did not lurk in shadows, and they certainly didn’t wear that expression of quiet cruelty.

"Miss Zabini," he began, his tone sharp and dispassionate, "surely you’re aware students are expected to remain at their own House tables."

Zelda tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, mocking smile. "Riddle, if you keep your tie any tighter, I imagine it’ll strangle what little humanity you’ve got left."

His expression didn’t waver, though something flickered behind his eyes. "Leave," he said, his voice calm but cold, "or I’ll be forced to inform your Head of House."

Mocking him under her breath, Zelda stood and shot you a grin before strolling off.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" you said, not bothering to look up as you turned another page in your book.

"Mayhaps if you didn't surround yourself with halfwits like that Gryffindor, you'd actually accomplish something worthwile." His words were as sharp as his gaze, which raked over you with a deliberate slowness that felt more invasive than curious.

"I’ve already finished my work. Why do you care? It’s the weekend, Riddle. Go find someone else to torment."

"Are you attending Slughorn's dinner tonight?" he asked, his voice carefully measured with seriousness.

The Slug Club—an infamous little cabal of Slughorn's favored students. Exclusive, elitist, and insufferably self-important. You and Tom had been inducted in your fourth year, both chosen for reasons that aligned with Slughorn's peculiar calculus of prestige and potential. The dinners were tedious at best, but you had never missed one. Not entirely out of obligation, though. You had quickly discovered that your presence, as unwelcome as it was to Tom, was an exquisite way to unsettle him. Watching his carefully constructed façade fracture, even for a moment, had become a quiet thrill.

You closed your spellbook deliberately, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "I am," you replied, your lips curling into a smirk. "Why? You wish to escort me, Riddle?"

His expression hardened, that cool veneer slipping to reveal a glimmer of something darker, sharper. "I would sooner be scorched to ash by a Hungarian Horntail than be seen anywhere with you. Do not flatter yourself."

"Then why are you asking?" you countered, your tone cutting, the faintest edge of amusement lingering beneath your words.

For a moment, he seemed poised to answer, but the silence stretched, heavy and charged. Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him. You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes at his endless need to cloak himself in that maddening, calculated mystery.

Slughorn's office was always transformed for these dinners—lavish, yet suffocating. The floating candles cast their warm glow over the room, illuminating the walls adorned with portraits of Slug Club alumni, all frozen in postures of smug accomplishment. The air carried a faint sweetness from the polished oak furniture and spiced wine, a reminder of Slughorn’s particular tastes.

The moment you stepped through the door, Slughorn himself greeted you with his usual joviality, his round face crinkling with delight as he clasped your hand. After enduring a few moments of pleasantries, you excused yourself, weaving through the small crowd to find Archibald Fawley. Archie, the Minister’s nephew and a fellow Slytherin, greeted you warmly, his smile earnest and open.

He was the sort of boy your father would have approved of—well-bred, intelligent, polite. But to you, he was only Archie. A loyal friend and nothing more. No matter how hard he tried to veil his feelings behind jokes or light conversation, you couldn’t return them. The gentle affection in his gaze was matched only by the regret you knew it caused him.

As you laughed softly at something Archie had said, a prickling sensation spread across the back of your neck. You felt the weight of a gaze before you saw it. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Abraxas Malfoy watching you, his expression unreadable, his goblet poised at his lips. His focus was unwavering, and though you were used to the unwanted attention of certain members of the Slug Club, his stare sent an uneasy chill down your spine. There was something about Abraxas—something not quite right.

On the other side of the room, Tom stood beside him, his dark eyes sharp and calculating as he observed the interaction. His expression betrayed nothing, but the faintest flicker of something—disdain? Irritation?—danced beneath the surface. He noticed everything. How Abraxas' attention drifted from their conversation to you, how his gaze lingered too long.

"Malfoy," Tom said, his voice cutting through the haze of Abraxas' thoughts.

Abraxas blinked, startled. "What?"

"You stare at her as if she's some unattainable prize," Tom murmured, his tone even but laced with quiet malice. "If you're so fascinated, go. Dance with her."

Abraxas furrowed his brow, unsure if he had misheard. "Excuse me?"

Tom stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. "I don't repeat myself, Malfoy. You disgrace yourself gawking like a child. I expected better." His words were a low, venomous whisper, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his mouth as his eyes flicked toward you.

Abraxas hesitated, his fingers tightening around his goblet. "I don’t want to—"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Tom interrupted, his voice colder now, more dangerous. "You, of all people, should know what I am capable of. Do not insult me with lies."

Abraxas faltered, the blood draining from his face. He set his goblet down with trembling hands and nodded, walking stiffly toward you. Tom watched, his expression unreadable, but his knuckles whitened against his own goblet as his eyes lingered on you—laughing, carefree, with Archie Fawley.

Why did Tom compel his closest companion—if such a term could truly be applied to anyone in his orbit—to dance with her? He didn’t know.

He didn’t know why his chest constricted as he watched her laugh at Fawley’s idiotic remarks. Or why the sight of her tilting her head toward Fawley with the kind of interest she never spared him made his jaw tighten and his nails dig crescents into his palm.

What he did know was that he wanted to tear Archibald Fawley apart, piece by agonizing piece. Those pathetic, worshipful eyes Fawley always turned on her—did she notice them? Did she care?

Tom noticed. He always did.

Abraxas approached with a practiced elegance, his every movement steeped in decorum. His polite greeting preceded the inevitable request for a dance. It was expected—ingrained in him like second nature. Across the room, Archie’s jaw tightened as he glanced at you, his silence brimming with quiet disapproval before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

You sighed, resigning yourself to the Slytherin aristocrat's poised invitation. His hand in yours felt formal, detached, as though the act of spinning you around the dance floor was simply another choreographed performance.

But the weight of another gaze bore down on you—a darker, heavier presence. Tom Riddle. His stare cut through the golden glow of the room, sharp and oppressive. It wasn’t admiration or longing. No, it was something far more venomous, far more consuming. His watchful eyes burned through your composure, making your stomach churn and your skin crawl.

Abraxas' murmured praises were lost to you, his polished charm a dull hum against the tightening in your chest. The music softened into its interlude, and as the room swayed to the rhythm, so did you, trapped in a moment that felt suffocating.

Leaning closer, Abraxas whispered, his breath brushing your ear, "Are you alright?"

You nodded too quickly, your voice strained yet polite. "I just need to step out for a moment, if that's alright."

His brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need an escort? I would be more than—"

With that, you slipped away, leaving him standing alone as you made your escape, the weight of Tom’s relentless gaze still burning into your back.

The sharp clatter of your heels echoed through the silent, shadowy halls of Hogwarts. The suffocating air of the Great Hall still lingered in your chest, and you strode purposefully toward the nearest refuge you could find—the Prefects’ bathroom.

The grand, echoing space greeted you with silence as you gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, your knuckles white from the pressure. Your reflection stared back at you, disheveled and trembling.

What the hell was that?

The memory of Tom’s piercing gaze burned in your mind. It had felt suffocating, as though his eyes alone had stolen the air from your lungs. Could he have cursed you? Cast some silent hex when no one was watching? The idea gnawed at you, feeding the simmering rage that now bubbled to the surface.

No matter how petty your rivalry with Tom had been, you had always drawn the line at real harm. But now? Now, he’d crossed a line you couldn’t forgive. Your hands shook as the anger boiled over, spilling into a furious scream that ripped through the air, piercing the stillness of the bathroom.

"Fucking bastard," you hissed through gritted teeth, trembling with rage. Dead. You wanted him dead. The thought was intoxicating, your fury curling around the image of his blood-streaked face.

His blood on your hands would feel like a baptism.

"How dramatic," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and cutting. "You’ll wake the Hufflepuffs, and we can’t have that, can we?"

Your head snapped up. His voice. Low, familiar, mocking. For a moment, you thought you were imagining things until he stepped forward from the darkness, his pale face illuminated by the faint glow of the enchanted candles.

Tom Riddle.

The sight of him made your blood run cold and seethe all at once. He was too calm, too collected, as though he’d planned this confrontation down to the last syllable.

Had he been following you?

He tilted his head, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. "And here I thought I’d stumbled upon a banshee mid-wail."

Your glare could have burned through steel. "Did you hex me?"

Tom stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Don’t be ridiculous. The Deterioration Hex? Child’s play. But I must admit, your dramatics are far more entertaining than any spell I could cast."

Your fury bubbled over. "What is wrong with you?" you hissed, your voice breaking. "You’re sick in the head, you know that? A twisted, pathetic, stupid—stupid orphan."

The insult barely left your lips before his hand shot out, his fingers curling around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, not yet, but the threat was there, his touch icy against your skin.

"Careful," he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. His face was close to yours now, his breath brushing against your cheek. "Filthy little witch. I wonder—did you enjoy it? The attention? The way Fawley and Malfoy fawned over you? You were begging for it, weren’t you?"

You clawed at his hand, your nails biting into his skin as you gasped for breath. "I—" your voice broke. "I hate you."

Tom’s grip loosened just slightly, though his piercing gaze remained locked on yours. Slowly, a cruel smirk curled his lips, his voice venomous and low.

"Hate me all you like," he murmured, his tone cutting and intimate. "But don’t lie to yourself. You hate me because I see you—every mask you wear, every filthy little thought you try to bury. You hate me because you can't hide from me."

And then, as if the rage in his eyes had dissipated into something darker, something more dangerous, he shoved you back against the sink.

He stepped back, adjusting his tie with that same maddening composure that made you want to scream. “Good night,” he said smoothly, his voice low and sharp, as if it were some final command. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late. We have a potion to brew.”

With that, he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing through the grand, empty bathroom as he walked away.

"Raving lunatic!" you spat, the words dripping with disdain, your gaze seething with the anger he had so easily provoked.

Tom paused mid-stride, his shoulders stiffening, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, you caught the faintest twitch of his lips, though whether it was a smirk or a grimace, you couldn’t tell. Without another word, he continued on his way, leaving you fuming in his wake.

Deena speaks .ᐟ

Tom MIGHT just be bipolar.

Ohmygod I finally published this shitty chapter school has been crazy !! I only managed to finish this today because I'm absent. Anyway, hate this chapter omfg.

Chapter four will be posted soon hopefully^^

[queerasfact]

I don’t mean to be rude or invasive, so please feel free to discard this if you’re not sharing the information. I’m not a Patreon subscriber so I may have missed something, but I have noticed it’s been a while since we heard Irene’s voice. Has she left the show? I hope they’re doing well, and that we will hear from her again soon. But if they’re not doing well, or have moved on to other projects, I just want to send along my love and gratitude. The podcast is still really great, and I love everyone’s contributions and dedication. I learn so much from yall, AND you’re one of my comfort shows. I save up episodes for days when I need to remember there are kind, queer radicals out there like me. thank you all so much!

Hello!! This is Irene. Thank you for thinking of me. ☺️ I'm still out here, don't worry! You're right, the Patreon folks got the update but I guess we didn't put it anywhere else. Long story short, I went off to Taiwan on a language learning scholarship, and I will be back home in a month or so, so you'll hear my voice again pretty soon!

I'm so happy that the podcast brings you comfort and joy (I won't lie I listen to it when I'm missing my co-hosts too!). You're the reason we do it. 💕

~Irene

[sirhamburrger]

UNRAVEL (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (detective x detective, for day two of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which you grow to love your case partner in all his unconventionality. ━☆ wc: 1272 || tags/cw: gn!reader, bachira is off the walla crazy, lover boy x no. 1 hater || event m.list ━☆ i'm lowkey very proud of this!! bit long but whatever

you absolutely hated meguru bachira. 

he had risen through the ranks of the organisation, making detective in just under five years. you, however, did not have as easy a time, so everything about him ended up grating on your nerves; his too-loud laugh, his tendency to skip over vital steps in the investigation process, and his penchant for inappropriate jokes at even more inappropriate timings, just to name a few.

you’ve always been serious about your job, focused, meticulous. and he was... well, a walking distraction. the way he’d spin around in his stupid swivel chair, mutter nonsense about "feeling the rhythm of the case," and throw out stupidly outlandish theories at task force meetings? it did nothing but made your blood boil.

but you’re stuck with him as your case partner now, and there’s nothing you can really do about it.

"hey, what do you think about this case? i'm sensing some kinda weird vibe here," bachira says mysteriously, a grin plastered across his face as he expertly spins his pen between his fingers. "maybe the suspect’s hiding in plain sight, right? you know, like a ninja!"

you stare at him, simultaneously annoyed and baffled. "a… a ninja? seriously?"

he tilts his head, the usual playful glint present in his eyes. "hey, don't knock it 'til you try it! you gotta think outside the box." he pauses, looking over at you with a grin that’s somehow both mischievous and... genuine? "you've got the serious part down, but if we don't play around a little, we're never gonna crack this."

you roll your eyes, but part of you can’t help but be intrigued. no one else on the team has been willing to entertain his unconventional methods, but somehow, his outlandish thoughts feel intuitive. right, almost. 

and despite how chaotic he is, things start to come together. as the days pass, you find yourself drawn to the rhythm of his mind. he’s got this way of looking at things from every angle, as though solving a case is a game he’s not willing to lose. you can’t deny that his unorthodox approach is starting to make sense, especially when the results speak for themselves. it’s like his chaos brings clarity to your logic.

it all comes pouring out one night, when you find yourself alone in the office with him after hours, when everyone else has already gone home. he’s unusually silent, like he knows you need the silence for clarity of mind. you thank him - in your head, of course, because you’d rather die than admit you appreciate him.

"you know," you say finally, breaking the silence, "i thought you'd be the death of me when we started this case."

he looks up, and a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"but now you’re kinda starting to like me, huh? and that scares you?"

you make a face, refusing to admit it to him, but you both know the truth. it’s obvious you’ve warmed up to him, grown to appreciate his bizarre brilliance. because there’s something almost beautiful about the way he sees the world, and you think you might be seeing it, too.

"maybe," you say quietly, and though you don’t dare to say it aloud, a small part of you is slowly beginning to fall for him - not just for his methods, but for who you now know him to be. 

bachira grins toothily. "knew it."

“not the part about me being scared, though.” you glare at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. but there’s a warmth in your chest now, one that you think might have been missing before.

finally, after weeks of hard work, it all clicks. bachira’s wild theories, your steady persistence, and a little bit of luck - together, you had cracked the code and closed the case. it wasn’t the suspect’s usual behavior that had given them away, but something subtle, something hiding in plain sight, just as bachira had suggested from the beginning. a small detail, overlooked by everyone else, had been staring you in the face the whole time.

"told you," bachira says, flashing his signature confident grin as you both stare at the final piece of evidence, relief washing over you like a gentle coastal wave. "sometimes you just gotta let your natural instincts do the work."

you can’t suppress your smile even if you try. he’s right, irrevocably so. it hadn’t been about following the rules, or sticking to the traditional methods - it had been about seeing things differently. and, somehow, in the process, you’d come to appreciate his way of thinking. even if you didn’t fully identify with or understand it.

he plops down in the chair across from you when you get back from ego's office, completely unbothered by the chaos still lingering in the room. he looks over at you, a serious expression replacing his usual playfulness. you stare back, curious. 

"hey," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. "ego called me into his office today."

“oh? what did he tell you?”

“he told me about your application.”

oh, crap.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter. the feeling of his rejection stings just as much as the tears welling up in your eyes. “i shouldn’t have sent it in without asking you first.”

“i mean…” his voice trails off, and he looks at you almost tenderly. “i didn’t know you wanted me as your permanent investigation partner. it’s honestly a huge compliment.”

you let out a watery chuckle. “are you serious? rin itoshi wants to partner up with you. rin freaking itoshi.”

“but you’re the best,” he insists.

you swipe at your eyes quickly. “way to let me down easy, i guess. thanks for being nice about it, though.”

“who said i was declining?”

“wait - really?” you perk up, eyes widening. “you want to be my investigation partner?”

he nods silently, and you notice his hand is almost brushing yours. he hesitates, reaching out to take your hand. in a decision that horrifies you, you don’t stop him.

“i want to be a lot more than that.”

and you think you might just swoon with how undeniably serious he looks in this moment, and maybe laugh a little too. you raise an eyebrow in mock surprise, feigning ignorance. "whatever do you mean?"

he leans in a little closer, clearly amused. "how about dinner? jist you and me. i think it’s time i take you out - somewhere nice, y’know. somewhere with no crime scenes, no paperwork, just... us."

you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. he’s for real, isn’t he? and despite all your stubbornness, your initial reluctance to admit any kind of admiration for him, you realized you want this. you want him.

"bachira," you murmur, your voice a little softer than even you expected, "is this you asking me out on a date?"

he gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as though he’s been wounded. "what? i’m heartbroken! i thought we were already dating!"

you roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. 

"fine, meguru. take me out to dinner. but only because you solved the case, genius."

he grins triumphantly, "yes!" and then, with a gleam in his eyes, he adds, "it’s a date then, detective. i’ll be on my very best behavior. maybe."

as you both stand, gathering your things, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your heart at what is to come. tonight, and in the days ahead. maybe things aren’t as black-and-white as you once thought. and maybe, just maybe, you’ve discovered something between the two of you - worth more than solving any case.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[floralscented]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤBETTER BIRTHDAYS — vampire!dean

slowly, dean is learning to love his birthdays again, after going for decades without letting himself.

not what i intended to write, and not as good as i wish it was, but to be fair to myself i have sickness. and i'm NOT missing out on my beloved baby's birthday! if logistics don't make sense, i don't care. that's fiction baby! vampire!dean is just rent free so it was inevitable.

it wasn’t supposed to be possible.

it was one of those things that dean came to terms with when he’d been turned so long ago — a family? was not something that was personally in dean’s cards. he’d have an infinite life, yes, but any family he wanted would have to be made or created, and not in the way that he’d ever get a chance to hold something so small that was part him.

dean forgot often that the impossible seemed to happen a lot around him.

there was a moment when he thought that being with you was a fate destined for doom. but every step of the way, you’d helped convince him that decades of isolation did not equate to deserving said isolation, and slowly, he’d let you make a home in his heart.

you accepted him for what he was. you trusted him with all you had; let him into your heart, your house, and every room that was deigned yours. no secrets, you’d promised.

it was a promise you held true to, because on a day he’d always remember, june 27th, you’d sat him down and told him that you were pregnant. and, on top of that initial shock, you were three months along.

he’d used the word impossible over and over throughout your pregnancy. this was not something for dean to pour his hope into and get attached to. it had to be a mistake; it had to be a misunderstanding — something.

but on dean’s birthday, a day he refused to celebrate anymore because of how many he’d had, a day that you took into your own hands and made him celebrate anyway—

a little boy was born.

a son with his hair, his face, and your eyes. so human and so real that it stole his breath away, unable to breathe at all even if he wanted to try again.

and it only got more chaotic from there. the little boy was an absolute devil; just as dean had been before sam was born, and before his father sank into a depression that drowned both of them. cassius winchester was a little force with sharp teeth and an affinity for crawling after him everywhere that dean went.

everything about cassius was impossible. that was why he’d been given the name, after all; helmeted warrior, it meant, so nothing could take him, so nothing would try to. now that dean had him, it was not going to be so easy to pry him away.

it was cassius’s third birthday, which meant it was dean’s… he’d lost count, really. either way, it was an incredibly special day for you. your two boys, one grown and one anew, and while you didn’t fit the mold when it came to the family dynamic that your boys painted, you certainly made up for it with your enthusiasm.

“blood in the icing?” you’d asked dean the moment he stepped downstairs, cassius balanced on his hip. “would that make it any more edible for you? for cassy?”

dean, taken aback for a moment, raises his eyebrows. “what would you eat, then?”

“i’m sure a little iron in my diet won’t hurt me.”

his scoff is an amused one, his eyebrows furrowing when he feels a sharp nip on his fingertip. in cassius’s mouth is dean’s finger, gnawing on it like it were nothing more than a teething toy.

his lips quirk up. he hasn’t genuinely grinned in so long that it feels almost foreign all of the time to do it now, since he met you, and even more since cassius. “on second thought, it might not be a bad idea.”

you stop the stand mixer to glance up at them, your eyes glimmering with that look that dean always refused to address. so much love for one person always made him feel on edge, like one day it would all fall away, like everyone else he’d loved prior. his fears had never once deterred you. perhaps it was why he, too, loved you so fiercely.

“he finally learned how to use those little teeth?” you ask, circling around the kitchen island to stand in front of dean and cassius, your expression alight. “what a milestone, my love. and on your third ever birthday.”

it certainly was a milestone. cassius had not let up his biting, little pinches that were certainly going to leave his finger raw for a few hours while it tried to heal. already, dean was planning on tossing all of the teething toys in the house away; he did not care for them like he cared for dean’s pointer finger.

you press a kiss to dean’s cheek, cassius’s forehead, before turning back to the slightly/less-dusty kitchen again. it’d been practically gray before you, but you had to eat, didn’t you? the scattered leftovers of human and forest creature in the boxed refrigerator did nothing for you. but you stop quickly, your eyes widened when you spin back around.

“wait!” you say on a gasp, grabbing something from underneath the countertop. two somethings. very shiny somethings. you jog back up to dean, looping the string of one underneath his chin and planting the birthday hat securely on his head, and doing the same for cassius, albeit with a smaller one. “happy birthday, my boys.”

dean tries to not let it affect him so deeply. how long had it been since his birthday felt like something to be celebrated and not a burden? there were so many years of those feelings that he did not understand yet how to react in instances like this, in the sheer warmth that you and cassius’s joy brought to him.

you were well aware of dean’s affinity for privacy. he was reserved, had made a home in the reservation, and would not leave it, not when he was so comfortable. so you did not call upon his sired to come celebrate — especially not them, when he was only beginning to heal the self-deprecation that came from their being there.

you did, though, dust away his hallway of their paintings, and uncover his painting supplies again. it was special to him, after all, and a hobby he’d locked away for too long after realizing the solace he found in keeping memories forever was embedding him into the past.

the paints and the blank canvasses were neatly wrapped in your room, along with a smaller box — dean’s present pile. there were more toys wrapped in a pile next to it, toys that cassius was far too spoiled already to need, but deserved anyways.

dean is not amused by the blindfold you put over his eyes as you led him to your shared room. or really, he was incredibly amused, but not so much to find out that all it served for was a dramatic way to lead him to his gifts while cassius napped downstairs.

“there are much more fun things that we could do with this blindfold,” he grumbles from in front of you, “there are much more fun things that we have done with it.”

“it is okay to be selfish and accept gifts sometimes, dean,” you say back, lightly kicking open the door with your foot to guide him inside.

dean is at his most shy and timid, somehow, on his birthday. as if he could make himself invisible and shrunken enough to be forgotten about, as if this day was not as equally about dean as it was cassius. “you are well aware of how little birthday gifts i’ve gotten over these years, aren’t you?”

“that is why i’ve got you three today.”

he can’t see, but he can hear the rustling of wrapping paper. shifting around, moving him as you so please, until he’s sat on the edge of the bed, and you are sitting at his feet in front of him, can feel the warmth of your humanity seeping into his legs.

something heavy lands in his lap.

“you may take it off,” you hum, and dean is not surprised to see that when he does, you are wearing a smug grin that makes you all the more beautiful. “go on. open it. that’s why gifts exist; to be opened.”

“i have not gotten a birthday gift in a while,” dean says with a huff, lifting his eyes as he tears into the wrapping paper to meet yours, “but that does not mean i need the process explained—”

his words die in his throat.

his paints. the ones that created life out of people he’d long killed. his heart falters. his mind blanks.

“this—” you pat the biggest gift behind you; flat and hollow when your hand touches it, “is some of the canvases i found too. i was just thinking— well, about how you paint everything you love in case it leaves.”

dean can’t even find the words to respond. his eyes stay locked on yours with a vulnerability you rarely see. “but i’m not leaving. and cassius is not leaving. and i think a family portrait for the front entrance would look lovely, don’t you?”

his swallow is thick and unnecessary, but he feels the lump in his throat and simply can’t help it.

instead of addressing your words, or the paints in his lap, or anything, he looks at the third present sat in your lap. his voice is raw when it comes out. “what is that one?”

dean’s paintbrushes, he assumes. fits the theme, would complete the puzzle.

your lips curl in a little grin. “those are cassius’s building blocks and perhaps a toy train. i can’t spoil everything.”

the attempt at lightening the mood works. he sets the paints aside and leans forward, lifting your chin with one finger and reaching into your lap with the other of his hands. “i meant this, little devil.”

there is no explanation or comments from you this time, as he opens it. it was hasty, the way he tore in, feeling light and airy like he did as a child on christmas. it’d been a long time since dean had felt so free.

it was not paintbrushes as he assumed, though. for the second time in one evening, you’d shocked the words out of him.

impossible, his mind begins to repeat again, but it’s quieter. less insistent. the voice of his subconscious had already been proven wrong once before.

a pregnancy test with two lines sits in the little jewelry box you’d tucked it away in.

the lump in his throat is tight, heavier. his mouth opens, closes, opens again, and no words come out. dean is left holding a pregnancy test between his fingers like it might break, left staring at the one person who heard his cries for company and answered with a family.

a family. how long had it been since he let himself dream? of this, of you, of anything?

“i know it is yours and cassius’s day, but i figured…” you don’t even need to finish the sentence for dean to get it. this was something that he’d wanted desperately, a secret he shared only with you. his childhood was bleak and unforgiving. all dean wanted was a chance to start anew and make it better.

here it was, in the form of a stick and a woman and a toddler.

he is more ginger with the pregnancy test than he was with the paints. as much as he appreciated the sentiments being brought back up, painting sam and judas had pulled all of the fun and the peace out of the hobby. he had no intention of digging back into the part of himself that loved the art of creation, in any way.

but now, in his head, there’s the grant entrance of his manor. and above the fireplace is you next to him in acrylic, a little cassius painted onto his hip, and a little baby in your arms. it would be updated every time his children grew. it would be updated every year, maybe even, so he could have multiples of you in the dresses he loved so dearly, and to see the progression of his kids. his family.

the hand on your chin moves to the back of your neck, tugging you up and into his arms. his eyes close, breathing you in slowly. he’s always loved the warmth of your livelihood, and it felt that much more intense, knowing that there was another life now, too.

“you have a talent for making a man forget he doesn’t deserve this,” he whispers into your throat.

you grasp at the sleeves of his coat, the grin on your face evident even as its buried into his chest. he can feel it, the pull of your lips, your smiling mouth in his shirt. “i hope to foster that talent, then. to become an expert in bringing you a lifetime’s worth of better birthdays.”

dean doesn’t know how to tell you that these years with you have done plenty. this was all he needed — you and the family you brought to him — to have better days and better birthdays.

so he stays silent and holds you to him, letting himself slip away into this life that felt more and more like a wish come true with every passing day.

and it is only when the sounds of little footsteps start stomping up the stairs toward your room, toward his presents, that dean’s eyes lift up to meet the sleep mussed little boy babbling to himself — and the big brother t-shirt you’d had him in, only now noticed.

notes. i literally woke up just to write this quick asf & post it PLS. if it sucks my bad. i'm just a girl. happy bday my pookie beloved baby waby!!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

[peachhcs]

I feel like Emma would feel like an outcast in the group sometimes because she’s on the bit of the quieter side, and everyone else has known or known of each other for years. She came in not knowing anyone, and maybe she brings it up to Gabe.

AW guys this is such angst 😣😣😣 my shaylaaaa, my beloved but also yes i definitely believe she struggles with this sometimes and she tries not to let it bother her but it does sometimes

especially when she’s like hanging out w the guys or something and they’re talking about inside jokes she doesn’t get :( or when maybe she goes to the lake house for the first time the first summer after their freshman year (bc emma and gabe start dating in their freshman year) she finds it hard to find her place yknow?

so imagine this taking place summer after their freshman year at the lake house

au masterlist

emma was feeling a bit..lost? out of place? she didn’t really know how to describe it exactly. she loved everyone, don’t get her wrong. they were such an energetic and entertaining group of friends, but she’d been at the hughes lake house for a few days now and she just felt a little bit out of place.

as soon as her and gabe got there, his hockey friends were on his back and then samy and julianne were in the mix, and then there was hannah who emma didn’t really know, but yet also she didn’t really know them besides the bc boys. it was confusing and watching all of them quickly fall back into place with one another kind of did leave a small sting in her chest.

she wasn’t ever one to make a huge deal about it though. emma always tried rationalizing her thoughts because obviously she didn’t really know these people that well because she didn’t grow up with them. it made sense that they were so close and got excited whenever all of them were together in the same place at the same time.

and as much as samy really tried making emma feel included because she was new, the blonde still felt a little behind whenever someone started cracking a joke or bringing up things from before she joined their inner circle.

so as much as it was sort of bothering emma, she didn’t say anything because how could she? it wasn’t even that huge of a deal anyway.

however, what she didn’t know was that gabe knew her well. even though they hadn’t even been dating a whole year yet, he had gotten to know her pretty well and quickly learned all of her little quirks because of how much time they spent together during the school year. so when emma became a little more quiet than usual, he noticed right away.

the hockey player found her in the kitchen one day when everyone else was off doing their own thing. he approached carefully to not scare her.

“hey,” the boy smiled as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. emma grinned at the affection, turning her head to kiss him back.

“hey.”

“whatcha doing?” the blonde had a book laid out on the counter she was reading.

“reading this book,” the girl giggled.

“sounds fun. what’s it about?” the thing emma loved about gabe was that he always asked her what she was reading and really listened whenever she yapped on about it.

every other guy used to just not care, but gabe genuinely did want to know what she was reading every time, so emma began telling him about her book.

the dark-haired boy smiled widely, nodding along to what she was saying and adding in his own remarks when he deemed necessary.

“wow, sounds intense,” gabe mumbled with a small smile.

“it is pretty intense. what’re you doing? where’s everyone else?” the girl wondered as she closed her book for now to give gabe her full attention.

“nothing. i came looking for you. i think everyone’s just doing whatever right now,” he hummed and his words made her smile.

“came looking for me? that’s sweet,” she pinched his chin.

“yeah i did come looking for you. i was missing you,” he admitted and emma blushed even further. she hid her face away from his so he didn’t see, but gabe directed her chin right back to him. a loving smile danced on his lips.

“i’m happy you’re here,” now gabe was never the one to bring things up that he knew was bothering emma unless it was really pressing. he always tried giving her the space to bring it up herself if she wanted to and right now he was trying to do that because he knew what was on her mind.

“you are?” emma wondered.

“i am. feels like you’ve been around forever,” the hockey player smiled and that’s when emma’s smile faded a bit.

she pulled back and gabe knew he hit the spot that’s been clouding his girlfriend’s mind for days.

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like that,” emma finally admitted with a tiny frown.

“what do you mean?” gabe asked gently.

“ugh, it’s gonna sound so selfish and i don’t wanna be that person,” the blonde quickly backtracked and shook her head because it was selfish to her that she felt out of place in a place she never belonged to in the beginning.

“hey, no, no don’t say that. talk to me, em,” her boyfriend encouraged and emma cringed. she looked around to make sure no one else was close by.

“i dunno. like i love how close you guys all are and i love seeing you so happy getting to hang out with your friends, but i guess..fuck. don’t make me say it gabe you already know,” emma grew embarrassed.

“not really. i promise i won’t judge you, em,” he cupped her face and made sure she knew he was being serious.

the girl sighed and struggled to find her words, “i guess i just feel weird sometimes because you guys have known each other for like..so long and i like don’t know any of you at all really. you know? like yeah i know the bc guys but like..not really. i don’t really hang out with them a lot. i dunno. everyone’s so..energetic here and i’m so..not?”

the dark-haired boy quickly frowned hearing emma say all of this, “hey wait, do you think they don’t like you or something?”

“i mean, maybe? i don’t know. like i feel..out of place. like i shouldn’t be here. like this is a place only for you guys because you’ve been here and grown up around it for so long?” she was probably making zero sense and her gaze stuck to gabe’s shirt instead of his face that was trying to meet hers again.

“baby, i’m sorry you feel that way. i knew something was on your mind, but i didn’t know it was that. i’m sorry,” the pang in gabe’s chest grew bigger that his girlfriend had been feeling this way. “did this just start or have you been feeling this way?”

“i mean i guess..it’s kind of always been there? like sometimes when you invite me over and we’re with the guys and they start talking about things that i have no idea what they’re talking about..i guess it got more prominent being here.”

“come here,” gabe quickly stuffed emma into his arms.

she took comfort in his embrace and familiar scent that she always used to calm her anxieties. they stood like that for a few more moments until emma was ready to pull away. gabe smiled down at her, holding her face in his hands again.

“if it is any consolation, samy really did want you here. she texted me like nonstop about making sure you knew you had an invite and that you’d come. i know it’s weird because you were kind of thrown into us, but i promise everyone wants you here and they all like you. samy adores you, hannah adored you, julianne adores you. and even if they didn’t, that wouldn’t matter because i adore you and want you here,” gabe assured which did make emma feel a little bit better hearing him say that.

“i guess i’ve just never had such a tight knit group of friends before that it’s also kind of weird to me,” emma laughed.

“well consider all of them a group you can count on because as crazy and loud and rambunctious as they are, they never fail to show up when you need them. and i know this probably isn’t the same, but to maybe bring you more comfort, when i first started hanging around samy and will i felt something similar. they knew each other so well and had known one another for years that it felt weird inserting ourselves into their already little group, but trust me when i say that samy loves meeting new people and inviting them in. i mean you see all the people here,” the two shared a heartfelt laugh.

“i am sorry you’ve been feeling this way though. i’m glad you could tell me,” the boy continued when emma didn’t say anything. she smiled.

“thanks for listening. i think it will just take me some more time to get acclimated and used to all of this, you know? you do have some really cool friends,” emma hummed. she melted into the boy’s touch as he brought her up to quickly kiss her lips.

“you have some cool friends too. i love you,” he hummed when they pulled away.

“i love you too.”

[lrgcarter]

Thanks for your question!

Ah, the humble hormagaunt. Let's see, where to start. I imagine that, living with Jeff, you've picked some of this up by osmosis but I'd best start at the beginning.

Imagine you're just chillin' out in the galaxy. You have a map of the galaxy showing the spiral, that central bar thing in the middle, Earth off to the left, and the top of your page is labelled North. There's a 'You Are Here' pin pointing to the south east corner. You are far from Earth, but you live in an area that benefits from the 80s power fantasy of "Being Economically and Socially Stable". It's a little place called Ultramar. Just a few planets, but it's quiet, peaceful, serene.

That is until you start getting disturbing messages from probes you've been sending out beyond the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy. Into that empty void where only darkness lies. But these probes, they've been picking up signals that show there is something else out there. Then, after a few seconds, these probes cut out communication and are never heard from again. 

"Meh," you shrug. "Galaxy's a big place. Many mysteries that never get solved. Space beyond the galaxy is even bigger. Loads of unknowns. No biggie."

But, in time, frontier bases on the Easter Fringe start falling out of contact with you. They're not liking your socials and they've stopped posting altogether. 

"Meh," you shrug. "Our internet runs on a complex system of interlinked psychic mutants that really shouldn't work at all. Everyone has trouble with their local mutant's connection at some point or the other. No biggie"

And then news reaches you of the backwater outpost of Tyran; population: 400 odd tech nerds and their accompanying soldiers and secretaries. It's gone. Reduced to a barren rock. Poor nerds.

"Meh," you shrug. "In the 41st millenium, there is only war. Shit happens. No biggie."

Then your internet goes out. 

"Holy Fuck!" you scream. "This is the Worst Thing Ever! Big biggie indeed!!!!"

Because those psychic mutants on which your galactic internet is based? They've all gone super weird and are raving about how The Great Devourer is coming and everyone's going to get eaten. And you try logging on again and yep, the gurgly ringtone of your dialup sure does make you instinctively feel like a single, galaxy sized mind, vast and unsympathetic, is about to swallow your world up for lunch.

All the local edge-lord fringe groups; your libertarians and your tankies and your liberal democrats, they're all suddenly revealing themselves to have more arms than they'd previously been letting on. And suddenly you notice that they're all bald. I mean, intellectually, you knew lots of them had shaven heads or wore bad toupees, but now you realise they're all bald. And they're also blowing up local infrastructure, launching coups, hanging people in the street; all the sort of stuff they've been saying for years they wanted to do but never actually got round to. 

To make everything worse, there's fuck tons of pollen in the air which is wreaking havoc with your allergies and all the plants are going bug-fuck batshit overgrowing all over the place. 

And that's when the coconuts start falling out of the sky. Thousands of the things, burning up as they fall, crashing into the ground and cracking open and releasing the things inside them.

Imagine if H R Giger had been asked to design some cute, colourful creatures for a Saturday morning cartoon. They're cute, they're colourful, they're often chubby in a huggable kind of way. They're also phallic and yonic and covered in teeth and spikes.

And these things start eating everything. Well, everything organic. Plants, people, pets, everything gets torn apart and swallowed. There are big things that eat folks whole. There are smaller things that eat folks in chunks. There are worm things that make sure the crumbs of folk aren't missed. 

The local edge-lords have found themselves loads of matching purple robes from the local Cloth World store and are chanting while they march into the gigantic shellfish that seem to be what these things use as space ships. It looks like they're happy about it. The oppressive, all encompassing psychic mind that has enveloped everyone and everything communicates without words straight into your skull that those people will willingly lower themselves into acid vats so that their biomass and genetic material can be collected and added to The Whole.

Because that's what's happening here. A hive mind of space locusts are stripping your planet for parts. All the creatures attacking you have been built from scratch from big biomass pools, specially designed to tear your pitiful life apart in a simple act of natural consumption. Space nature, red in tooth and claw.

"Ah," you think. "This must be what stripped Tyran bear. We should name these things after Tyran. Let's call them Tyranids."

Then you look down and say "Shit! Someone's pinched my denim trousers right off my legs!"

Then you get eaten by genestealers.

So, let's return to hormagaunts. 

These happy little chappies are part of the swarm of things that eats organic matter so the biomass can be carried back to the shellships to make more things.

Each of these things has been designed by the hive mind to fulfil some role in the great consumption. People say the Tyranids evolve, but that's not true. They develop their organic technology based on new needs and biological input, but all of the Tyranid space bugs were designed and pulled from a living biological 3D printer.

And hormagaunts were designed to jump! That's their whole thing! So cute! 

Or rather, leap, if we're being pedantic. It's like that "Lions can jump 30 feet" thing, or however far it was. They don't jump higher than giraffes. Tyranid air supremacy comes in other forms. 

Though, I've just checked my 2nd ed codex. 3" high! that's not nothing! And the leap is 6" in length! that's added (in a single burst, not spread out) to the 12" charge OR RUN basic speed!! (That distinction is meaningless unless you played the game, I'd just forgotten that this bonus applied to run moves as well as charges. Maybe I'm remembering some later rules?) When most people can only move 4" normally with a charge/run of 8", moving 18" is pretty badass. Particularly when you can speed over 3" high obstacles without slowing.

I was going to get pictures to show the development of the models over time and illustrate how the models love to fall over, but this lore shizzle took longer than expected! I think I'll leave this here for now!

I wanna talk about warhammer 40k. Someone ask me a question for me to ramble worthless opinions about.

[pcktknife]

I....need to play aa4 again

[faaun]

what draws you back to your country what draws you back to your land when i was a kid i told myself if i ever left iran i'd never go back 2 years into living in the UK i started looking at news on iran again 10 years in and i visited it for the first time again and today i heard an iranian mother talk in farsi to her child on the train to london the way my mother used to and i wanted to cry i wanted to ask her whether they're still cutting the mountaintops whether the lakes are still drying today i showed the person i was with pictures of waterfalls and palaces and forests and snow-white north something odd pulls me back with increasing force i can't ignore it ever again

[oddly-casual]

Fiona and Cake spoilers seriously

(Something I noticed abt Betty and Simons relationship)

I love Betty and Simon’s relationship, I think their back story is so cute and romantic and all that lovely stuff don’t get me wrong.

But there’s this under tone of Betty constantly giving things up for Simon and we don’t really talk about it a lot???

Like, Betty let Simon have his moment with the artifact and the pubic, she also doesn’t go to her trip in favor of going on an expedition with Simon. Then when she goes to leave again she stays for Simon.

Even Fiona is like “you went with her on the bus?” And Simon just looks all confused like “what? No, why would I do that?” Like- hello???

Then after that she gave up her entire life and mind to get Simon back to the point where she literally says “I don’t know who I am without him anymore.” And that just sucks! Since the beginning Betty has been the one giving up the most, her mind, her own possible career, and it’s a story of love of course and it’s very sweet but it’s also a story of sacrifice.

Their love wasn’t a perfect solution, it was already sort of imbalanced when it started and I lowkey love how we see those cracks even before they’re together.

Again, I love their relationship and I think it’s sweet. I just think we should talk about Betty’s side more, especially when she tells a story of what most women do in relationships, sacrifice.

[ferronickel]

Thinking bout the time someone yelled at me because they didn't understand butches.

[taxinealkaloids]

my take on the agnes/gertrude/elias situationship is that gertrude seems like the most normal one to outsiders (she's less prone to arson/creepy mind reading at inopportune moments), but she is still the archivist and therefore kind of eldritch. everyone in the institute has just sort of accepted that yes, the archivist does sleep with her eyes open/is muttering incantations, and it's the least weird thing she's done this week

ok the funny thing is, technically, if by "most normal" we're going off of who is the most human, Gertrude is the normal one. but I don't believe for a second that that's how she's perceived among the rest of the archive staff lmao. like...all her assistants wind up dead, she actively works to make sure her filing system is the least effective one possible, she takes random mysterious vacations and comes back looking like she's just gone ten rounds with a tornado...I absolutely think that Gertrude has the reputation of being the eccentric on staff. I've prepared this diagram to illustrate my point: