#literally because the same thing happened to me

[qqueenofhades]

been seeing some responses to the many many lawsuits and other actions taken against trumpet and munkfruit that fall along the lines of "this isn't enough, it's already too late, you can't fight fascism with the law, we're all gonna die." i understand the fear, truly, but i'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as to me it seems like this sort of behavior/posting doesn't do much beyond embolden the narrative that everyone actually likes these bastards and they're too powerful to be stopped.

Welp. This is the kind of question that requires me to write a long and complex sociopolitical/critical/historical/Discourse-esque analysis that will take a while and which I am trying to do only selectively, but I'm at home on Saturday morning, I don't have anything else to do right now, and it does present me an opportunity to address some things I've been thinking about. So. We'll give it a shot.

The first thing that has struck me is that in a few short weeks, we're getting a sharp empirical disproving of two common online-leftist fallacies: one, the old "both parties are exactly the same" chestnut, and two, "the only resistance that matters is Violent Glorious Revolution" (which somehow and conveniently never happens). We had months and months of "Biden is just as bad as Trump!!!" being spread as gospel truth in online-leftist circles, and then when Harris took over, it switched just as seamlessly into "Harris is just as bad as [or even worse than] Trump!" Now, as I have said before, there were plenty of legitimate criticisms to make of Biden, particularly the Gaza policy (upon which Harris notably differed). But it's quite telling that the keyboard warriors who spent all of last year howling for The Righteous Punishment of Biden-Harris (regardless that the obvious ancillary consequence was letting Trump come to power) have either disappeared completely when it comes to dealing with the results of that rhetoric, or have switched to "everything is doomed so I guess we shouldn't bother anyway." Like. Trump is now proposing to fully ethnically cleanse Gaza and either blithely hand it over to Israel or build Jared Kushner Beachfront Resort Disneyworld, and what do we hear in protest? For the most part, crickets. These are not serious people. Their opposition is not morally consistent, and it only depends on how they can make themselves look good. I thought that Trump was somehow supposed to be magically better than Biden particularly on the Gaza issue, and that was why it was worth letting him get elected? Or something? Something!?!

I'm curious as to whether those people still legitimately think that Harris would have spent her first few weeks in office dismantling USAID, signing weekly anti-trans executive orders, unleashing ICE across the country and terrorizing immigrant communities, putting the Project 2025 guy in charge of the Office of Management and Budget, letting Elon Musk run rampant with Treasury data, nominating the likes of RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard to Cabinet posts, trying to freeze all federal funding, stripping DEI initiatives, dismantle the Department of Education -- etc. etc. The thing is, as ghoulish as it is, none of this is a surprise, because it is literally what Trump and his people spent the entire presidential campaign loudly, openly, and repeatedly promising to do. However awful they were and are, they were not remotely secret about their intentions. That information was out in the open every time they opened their mouths. But too many people didn't pay attention, rationalized it away, decided that "he won't actually do that" (despite the fact that he launched a literal violent coup attempt on the Capitol the last time he was in office), or just made up their minds that Trump Will Reduce Grocery Prices and refused to listen to any information that countered that view. What do we get now? Trump laughing off the grocery-prices issue and insisting that it's "not a priority" and Musk managing to claim that the real problem is government spending, not corporate greed. Again, this was completely predictable, because y'all got willingly suckered. It was not hard to see it coming.

That said: if the Glorious Online Leftist Revolution is still coming, and by some lights we might now legitimately need it, where the fuck is it? Are they still out there banging the drum against Trump and his "let's ethnically cleanse Gaza" policy and anything else that they insisted, they swore up and down, was functionally equivalent or possibly even marginally better than Biden-Harris getting another term? No. They're either dead silent, offering weak excuses, or completely giving into "we're doomed there's no point fighting back through weak shitlib institutions that are obviously terrible and will fail" blubbering that makes no fucking sense. One, because they move the goalposts so constantly that there's not even any attempt to reckon with the last effects of their damaging bullshit, and two? As I said, where's the fucking Revolution magically coming to save us and install a perfect leftist utopia (which is never how revolutions have ever worked) and sweep away Government Tyranny? Is that only for when a Democrat is in office and you can have confidence that the government is not going to come after you in the middle of the night for talking about it? Now that there's an actual fascist in power, it's somehow too hard to resist at all, even in small, institutional, and everyday ways that are often far more effective at practically confounding the bad stuff instead of empty and useless online echo chambers, so guess we should all just give up??!

Fuck. That.

This is also why we have to talk about the catastrophic lack of information literacy and critical thinking skills in young leftist spaces. A good example is the recent migration of TikTok users to the Chinese app RedNote. It was sweet for a little while as there was cultural exchange and friendship and memes. But then, predictably, it dove hard into "ah, once again The Evil US Government Has Lied To Us and there are no problems at all in China!" I have seen posts float by on my dash that unironically claim this is the case and China is truly great and Americans should want to move there and clearly all that business about authoritarian control and mass repression was just a ruse by, again, The Evil US Government. If you are so utterly devoid of basic information literacy and research abilities that your standard of proof for "is the Chinese government repressively authoritarian and totalitarian" is "a random Chinese person on an app in a country where the Internet is viciously controlled and voicing the slightest criticism can make you disappear told me that it isn't," then for Christ's fucking sake, you need help. For one, it wasn't just the US government saying this. It was, y'know, Chinese dissidents, the entire nation of Taiwan, historians, academics, researchers, the Uyghur Muslims of Xinjiang, etc etc. If your only standard for believing or supporting anything is "the opposite of what the US government thinks," then you are perfect targets for authoritarianism. Hey, a person living under an authoritarian regime who will punish them if they speak out against it told me everything was fine! Clearly there's nothing to worry about and we should want it here in America!

Come on. Come on.

This is also the case because uneducated young leftists like to unironically label themselves "communists" or "Marxist-Leninists" as if it's cool and hip and has never been involved in anything problematic in all of history, so anything that calls itself that must be supported. Shoutout to the idiot in my notes recently who reblogged a several-year-old post just to shout at me about how historical communists NEVER worked with or collaborated with fascists, because something something The Communists Were The Pure Shining Good Guys! (Uh, nobody tell them about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) Clearly, the Chinese Communist Party is good and beneficial, end of story, no more criticism or caution needed! Obviously, yes, official American policy toward China has often been driven by basic Sinophobia, and the determination that nobody can change American hegemony or unipolarity or its ability to call the shots how it pleases. But if that is the literally only criteria you're using, then yeah. If you're so unaware that "the Chinese people are ordinary human beings" and "the Chinese government is repressive and authoritarian" are statements that can and in fact do coexist, then apparently you've missed the situation you're in right now, where "the American people are ordinary human beings" and "the American government is repressive and authoritarian" is also the case. Because online leftism is essentially devoid of a consistent moral principle and will just blithely switch up to support Bad Things as long as they're being done by governments with the correct ideological label, here we are.

Anyway. This is getting long, but the main takeaway is that the "all resistance against Trump is doomed and I guess we just gotta die :(" line is now, somehow, often coming from the same people who were constantly yelling that the only hope was a Glorious Revolution against Biden-Harris, and it is somehow even stupider. So you'll trumpet about Gloriously Overthrowing The Government all the day long as long as a Democrat is in office, but the instant a Republican gets in there instead and starts acting like an actual fascist, welp, time to just shut up and accept our doom and not even bother to struggle? Please tell me how any of that makes sense. Especially when actively confounding the Trump/Musk Axis of Evil is already working. There is also the fact that the establishment-media types are supporting this narrative for reasons of their own; witness the fact that the entire US corporate media is owned by oligarchs who hastened to bend the knee and pledge fealty to Trump 2.0. They obviously also have a reason for inculcating hopelessness in you, and that the only recourse is to shut up, accept it, and let them continue to rob you blind. Because American democracy will never matter as much as money, power, and control for the Billionaire Bros.

The point is: this is a bad-faith narrative on all sides. Whether it's coming from the online leftists in their latest head-spinningly hypocritical volte-face, the oligarch-owned corporate media that wants to feed you constant Bad News to keep you clicking and worried and distracted and unable to resist, the Trumpist power that wants people to quit making this pesky stink about all their authoritarian fascist adventures, or anyone else. There is nobody who has your best interests at heart if they are telling you that everything is doomed and the only thing to do is lie down and take it. There is no logical reason you should listen to them. Go forth and keep resisting, in whatever way presents itself. Those cumulative small actions are far more effective than any Splendid Revolution that never, ever materializes, while the people who preach it just sit back and whine about how things are so bad now so clearly they couldn't. Shut up.

It is always important. It always matters. It will make a difference.

Courage, etc.

[noisyghost]

(I started sketching this design nearly immediately after season 2 ended but just now had some time to clean it up so. Excuse me rambling out loud here)

TLDR; I actually really liked the initial design + direction for Warwick-Vander (I <3 human faced werewolves)! But the show design kinda felt like a transitory state between Vander and Warwick to me, so I wanted to try my hand at blending his Arcane design with his in game design. Like a "what would he look like if the transformation kept going" kinda thing. There's a few things I'm not fully settled on, but Im mostly satisfied :)

(rambling under the readmore, its 3 am as i type this lol)

When season 2 first started, I sort of had it in my head that the narrative would have Vander "die" for Warwick to finish the transformation into his final form, forcing Vi and Jinx to finally say goodbye together. Well! That didn't happen lol. I mean. Vander did "die", but whatever was left behind isn't really Warwick. I'm not quite sure what they were going for, either with him or with how Jinx "dies", its all just a little messy when i feel like there was a more obvious narrative conclusion.

Visually i think the final design in the show is cool removed from context, but it doesn't really make sense to me in regards to the story. Like. Warwicks whole thing is that he curbs his violent impulses by killing "bad guys" in the undercity. League lore is a hot fucking mess and I don't even go there so I get that they (the writers) were playing fast and loose but I can see why so many Warwick fans were less than pleased with where the show leaves him, because it doesn't really feel like the same character outside of his initial experimentation.

In my own idea palace, Jinx fakes her death and leaves Warwick to be Zaun's new mascot. Having this literal monster that eats bad guys and saves innocent people in the process become a new symbol for Zaun feels like a no brainer to me. Imagine the iconography they'd make for this thing! And it brings Vanders whole schtick back around; he still "dies" but the Literal Memory of him lives on in Zaun, still protecting the people he cared about most. You get the bittersweet ending of Vi and Jinx having to move on because hes not really their dad anymore, but their memory is what keeps Warwick "human", still with Zaun even if Vi is doing Piltover shit and Jinx is off exploring the world.

Idk! I know the implication that Jinx faked her death is there, but whatever happens to Warwick seems to be like they didnt really have the time to fully explore the ideas they were going for, so a couple characters just got kinda left floating at the end there. If Ekko and Jinx werent going to run away together, I wanted to see Ekko befriending Warwick so they could fight to make Zaun a better place.

I have more coherent ideas than this but it's 3 am when im typing this so sorry if im not eloquent enough to properly explain what im thinking. Ekko and his weird dog that used to be his uncle. Imagine.

[itneverendshere]

need your confession - brother bsf! rafe

pairing: kelce's sister x hockey!rafe warnings: smut <3

part of this universe

It was the biggest game of the season so far—your university’s team against their biggest rivals.

You, however, were sitting on the bleachers, arms crossed, wrapped in your thickest winter jacket, trying to not to shiver like a little bitch, your legs pratically fusing to the metal. Next to you, Kie had a bucket of popcorn balanced on her lap, one boot casually propped against the row in front of you like she wasn’t on the verge of hypothermia too.

“Tell me again why we’re here when we could be literally anywhere else?” she asked, tossing a kernel into her mouth.

You exhaled sharply, your breath visible in the freezing air, eyes locked on the opposing team’s bench. “Kelce.”

You’d never missed a game in your life, the stupid sport had somehow made it’s way into your heart. It was practically coded into your DNA after a lifetime of being dragged to them, of screaming at refs, of celebrating wins and mourning losses. Although today you were more than tempted to do so, but you came, just to prove—to no one in particular—that you weren’t a coward.

Out there, somewhere in that sea of helmets and shoulder pads, was your biggest one-night-stand mistake. You were less than excited to see him skate across the ice.

Kie followed your gaze, pausing mid-chew. “Oh. Oh.” She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me he was on their team.”

“Because I was trying to block it out,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

There he was, stretching like he was God’s gift to hockey, that same smug smirk on his face that made you want to throw up in your mouth a little. The same guy you made the mistake of hooking up with last summer, back when you were blissfully unaware he was a complete waste of oxygen. Before you knew he played rough on and off the ice, throwing cheap shots at your brother, running his mouth, and generally acting like a walking red flag with skates.

“You have the worst taste in men,” Kie whispered dramatically, shaking her head.

“I was young and dumb,” you defended. “And drunk. Mostly drunk.”

“Still. You hooked up with a guy Kelce would literally throw himself into a fire to destroy. I’m surprised the universe hasn’t imploded.”

You groaned, sinking deeper into your jacket. 

Five minutes later you were gripping the railing, heart thudding as the teams lined up for the puck drop. The second your brother skated out, you tensed. Because you knew that motherfucker was going to say something.

And sure enough, after the first few plays, you saw him slide up beside Kelce during a pause in the game. His head tilted, mouth moving. Oh fuck no.

Kelce straightened up, grip tightening on his stick.

“Oh, shit,” Kie muttered, leaning forward. “Is he—?”

You braced yourself, waiting for your brother to lose it—waiting for him to drop his gloves and snap.

But before he could react, Rafe did.

One second, your brother looked ready to commit a felony, and the next, Rafe skated between them, shoving your biggest mistake back with his stick. Not hard, but enough to make a point. Enough to say, not fucking happening.

You blinked.

“What the fuck?” Kie breathed. “Did he just—?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to understand it too.”

Your brother shot Rafe a look, something between confused and annoyed, but Rafe ignored it, leaning in to say something low enough that even the refs weren’t paying attention. You couldn’t see his face, but whatever he said made the other guy’s smirk falter.

That did things to you.

The second the puck dropped, Rafe dropped him.

You hardly saw it happen. One moment, your biggest mistake was skating forward, and the next—bam. Rafe’s fist connected with his face so fast you almost missed it.

Kie sucked in a breath beside you. “Shit.”

You shot up from your seat, eyes still wide, watching as the guy hit the ice like a sack of bricks. Flat on his back, motionless for a second, before he started to stir.

Rafe just stood over him, still gripping the front of his jersey, still looking for a reason to throw another punch. His helmet was tilted back slightly, visor pushed up just enough to reveal that look—that look—the one that usually meant someone was about to get their ass beat.

The refs were already swarming, whistles blaring, but Rafe wasn’t moving.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, gripping the railing.

Kie was still frozen. “That was—wow. That was—”

“Unhinged?”

“Hot,” she finished.

You whipped your head toward her. “What?”

She raised her hands. “Unhinged, sure, but also—”

You groaned, eyes snapping back to the ice just in time to see the refs finally pry Rafe off the guy, shoving him toward the penalty box. He went willingly, shaking his hand out like his knuckles didn’t ache from the impact, that same fucking smirk plastered on his face as he skated off.

Then, because he was an asshole, he looked right at you. Through the glass, through the crowd—right into your fucking soul.

And winked.

You felt your entire body heat up, which pissed you off because fuck Rafe Cameron. Fuck his stupid protective streak. Fuck his broad shoulders and that stupid confident smirk and— You were sitting way too fucking close to the penalty box.

Close enough that when he stepped inside, he barely had to turn his head to see you.

You were still gripping the railing, eyes narrowed.

Rafe sat down, leaned back, then tipped his head toward you—he was expecting a thank-you.

You scowled. “Are you insane?”

It didn’t even matter that Rafe Cameron was built like a linebacker or that he had at least five inches on you. You were prepared to climb his ass like a tree just to wring his stupid, smug neck.

He smirked, rolling his shoulders like knocking someone out was just another Tuesday for him.

“I mean, I’ve been told,” he said, voice muffled through the glass, “but you're welcome, princess.”

Your mouth actually dropped open.

Kie choked on a laugh beside you.

“You—you think I’m gonna thank you?” you seethed, standing up so fast the people behind you flinched in their seats. “You just got benched for ten minutes.”

Rafe shrugged, running a hand over his chin like he wasn’t even listening to you. “Worth it.”

You nearly groaned at how good he looked with his helmet off, cheeks flushed from the cold, blue eyes sharper than usual. 

“You can’t do that.

“Can’t protect my girlfriend’s reputation?”

“Stop calling me that,” you hissed, wishing there wasn’t a glass stopping you from punching his face.

“What? I thought we were still doin' that.”

“We were never doing that.”

“We definitely were,” he countered, tilting his head. “Y'were all over me last week, princess.”

“Stop it.”

“Habit,” he said, so fucking nonchalant.

“Drop it.”

“Can’t.” He grinned, giddy, like this was his favorite thing in the world. “Kinda like it.”

Your eye twitched.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Heroic?”

Kie wheezed.

“You volunteered to be my fake boyfriend.”

Okay so you were lying through your teeth now.

“You begged,” he corrected, like the little shit he was. “Practically threw yourself at me.”

Kie was actually crying.

You clenched your jaw so tight your teeth hurt. “I asked you one time to pretend to be my boyfriend because some guy wouldn’t take a hint.”

“And I did an amazing job,” Rafe said, nodding like he deserved a fucking trophy.

“You got into a pissing contest with him,” you deadpanned.

His grin widened. “And he backed off, didn’t he?”

You made a sound so aggressive that Kie clamped a hand over her mouth.

Kie nudged you. “You’re staring.”

“I’m glaring,” you corrected.

You made a deeply frustrated noise, something that probably wasn’t human, something that just encouraged him further. Rafe looked so fucking smug, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he thrived off it.

The ref skated over then, tapping the glass with the butt of his stick. “Cameron, quit flirting and focus.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, tapping his stick against the glass once before turning back to the ice, still grinning.

You slumped into your seat, suddenly exhausted.

 “So, when’s the wedding?”

Later, at the victory party, you were still ignoring him, not that it was stopping him.

Rafe had been glued to your side all night, trailing after you like a fucking golden retriever, hands always on you—guiding you through the crowd, resting on your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your jacket just because he could.

And you—you were trying so fucking hard to stay mad. To hold onto your annoyance, to remind yourself that you didn’t ask him to knock a guy out in front of thousands of people just because he ran his mouth.

But he was making it impossible. Especially now, when he slid up behind you, arms sneaking around your waist, voice warm against your ear. “Still mad at me, girlfriend?”

You stiffened, but he just laughed, squeezing your sides before you could pull away. “Thought you’d be a little more appreciative. Y’know, considering I defended your honor.”

You turned in his arms, narrowing your eyes. “We are not together.”

His hands slid lower, settling on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Fuck, he was so fine, disgustingly fine. The kind of fine that made you want to throw something at him just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that your body loved being near his.

You scowled.

Rafe just smiled. “Y’look real pretty tonight, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you damn near saw your past life. “Shut up.”

Rafe just grinned, fingers flexing against your hips like he had any fucking right. You smacked his hands, stepping back, but he just reeled you back in like a fish caught on his line.

“You are so annoying,” you hissed, trying to peel his hands off you like they were stuck with super glue. “Let me go.”

“Nah,” Rafe said, cocky as ever, grip tightening just to piss you off. “I kinda like it here.”

You made an indignant noise, smacking his chest this time, but that only made him chuckle. You wanted to scream, maybe—kiss him a little, which was exactly why you needed to stay the fuck away.

Some girl passing by stopped, looking between you two with a dreamy little smile. “Oh my God, you guys are so cute together.”

Rafe beamed, like he’d just won a fucking award. “Right?”

“No,” you snapped, shoving at his arms. “Don’t encourage him.”

The girl just giggled and walked off, and you were left fuming while Rafe watched, amused.

“You’re still enjoying this way too much,” you accused, crossing your arms.

“‘Cause it’s fun, princess,” he teased, hands still resting on your waist, like they fucking belonged there. “Y’get all riled up. It’s cute.”

Your throat hurt in a way that had you wanting to actually fight God.

“I’m about to get real uncute if you don’t back up.”

Rafe smirked, ducking his head like he had a secret to tell. “You sure?” His voice was low, sweet like he thought he could charm you.

You shoved at his chest hard, and he finally let go, but not without laughing to himself like this whole thing was so fucking funny.

“Go bother someone else, Rafe.”

“But you’re my favorite,” he shot back way too fast, and you hated that your stomach flipped like a damn pancake.

Your jaw dropped. You smacked his arm so fast he actually flinched.

“Don’t start,” you warned, but Rafe lived to start shit.

“Not my fault you like it,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits. “I don’t like it.”

Rafe just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

You scowled, about to curse him out properly, but before you could, his fingers brushed your waist again—light, teasing, just enough to make your breath hitch. 

You slapped his hand away so fast it echoed.

“Stop.”

Rafe grinned, like your suffering was his favorite form of entertainment.

“What? ‘S not my fault you’re so touchable.”

You gasped, actually gasped, because what the fuck kind of line—

“If you don’t stop this shit—”

“What?” He leaned in, voice low, too close, like he wanted you to feel the words. “You gonna hit me? Y’know I like it rough.”

You nearly malfunctioned, body glitching, brain buffering, eyes blinking at him like he had lost his goddamn mind.

“Don’t—” You inhaled so sharply your lungs burned. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

Before you could even form a proper death threat, his hand curled around your wrist, just enough to stop you. To still you.

Jesus Christ, his hands were warm.

Big and solid and warm, even in this freezing-ass party house, even with the cheap beer and half-melted ice lining the countertops. His fingers pressed lightly into the inside of your wrist, just above where your pulse was doing its best impression of a goddamn hockey buzzer.

His other hand found your waist again.

Your breath hitched and you hated that he noticed.

“Knew you liked me, princess.”

“You’re delusional,” you snapped, jerking your hand back, but he just tsked, his grip firm but easy, he knew you weren’t actually trying.

He pulled you closer. Just an inch, enough to make you feel him.

His voice dropped lower. “Y’know,” he murmured, lips just brushing your ear, “You sure let me touch you a lot.”

Your spine snapped straight.

“I don’t,” you gritted out.

His fingers flexed on your waist. “No?”

“No.”

“Then stop me.”

Oh, you wanted to, you should have.

But you hesitated for just a second too long, because he was too close. Too solid. Too much of everything you swore you didn’t want, but now, right now, standing in the middle of a party where nothing else existed but him—

You didn’t move.

And Rafe knew it.

His smirk turned slow, lazy, and then—oh, you bastard—he tipped his chin down, catching your gaze with his like he dared you to look away.

You couldn’t.

Your pulse was a war drum against your ribs, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl, because he was going to do it.

He was going to—

His lips came down against yours, no hesitation. No teasing. He’d been waiting for this, he knew you had, too.

You didn’t have time to process before his tongue swept past your lips, and—fuck—your knees almost buckled.

Because Rafe Cameron kissed like he did everything else.

His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, this wasn’t enough. His other hand cradled the side of your face, tilting your head up so he could kiss you deeper, pressing and taking like he already knew you’d let him. He knew exactly where to touch, how to hold you so you wouldn’t dare pull away.

Then— oh —his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, slow, before slipping past, deepening the kiss like he was starving for it.

Your whole body reacted.

It shot straight down your spine, pooling low in your stomach, Rafe wasn’t giving you a second to think—his lips moved against yours in that filthy rhythm, his tongue teasing, stroking against yours, coaxing a sound from your throat that you hadn’t meant to make.

That did something to him.

His hands tightened, one splaying across the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, the other sliding up to your neck, angling your head just how he wanted—deeper, messier.

And, God help you, you let him.

Because fuck, he kissed so good.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, the sound needy. His teeth scraped lightly against your bottom lip, biting just enough to make you gasp, and he took advantage—kissing you deeper, he wanted that little sound, he’d do whatever it took to pull more from you.

His fingers sliding down—tracing the curve of your ribs, teasing the edge of your top like he was thinking about pulling it off right here.

Then he changed the rhythm, slowing down, torturously. His tongue tangled with yours in a slow tease; he wanted to make you feel every second of it, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He kissed like he was made for it.

Rafe tilted his head, lips dragging along your jaw, down to your neck, where he bit, hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“Knew you'd let me.”

Your chest heaved, your whole body felt wrecked, and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You should have slapped him, pushed him away.

Instead, you wanted more.

So you rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your chest against his, searching for friction—and shit, Rafe felt it. His entire body shuddered, his breath stuttering as he realized—no bra. Just you, warm, your nipples pebbled from the cold, pressing right against his chest through your flimsy top.

Rafe groaned into your mouth—wrecked. His grip on your waist nearly dropped for the shock.

Your hands slid up, nails scraping hard against the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, tugging—and fuck, that sent him feral.

He swallowed your gasp, mouth slanting over yours, tongue slipping inside—hot and wet. His tongue teased, then took, deep and demanding, like he owned you.

He pulled back just enough to spit—hot and slick—right into your tongue, eyes burning as he murmured, “Take it.”

And you did, you fucking did.

Because you were gone—ruined—nothing but the overwhelming need to feel him everywhere.

Rafe groaned, like he couldn’t believe you just let him do that, then devoured you again, tongue licking into your mouth like he wanted to live there.

His hands wandered, slipping under your top, tracing up your bare sides, thumbs barely brushing the underside of your tits—so close but not enough, teasing just to drive himself insane.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice ragged. His forehead pressed against yours, hands still gripping you tight,. “Gonna be the fuckin' death of me.”

And God help you, you wanted to finish the job in the middle of this hallway.

His forehead was still pressed to yours, his breaths coming hot against your spit-slick lips.

You were so close, your chests heaving together, and just to be a brat, you rolled your hips just a little.

Rafe let out a guttural groan, his hands flying down to grab your ass, yanking you against him so hard you swore you felt his pulse everywhere.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he groaned, mouth dropping open against your throat.

His forehead pressed to your shoulder, his entire body shuddering as his thumbs finally, finally swiped over your nipples, dragging over the soft, sensitive skin.

“You tryin' to make me lose my shit?”

“Maybe.”

Rafe moved, backing you up until your spine hit the wall, one knee pushing between your legs, parting them like he had every fucking right. 

His tongue was relentless, fucking into your mouth in deep, filthy strokes, like he wanted you to choke on it, wanted you messy. His spit dribbled from the corner of your lips as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, hard enough to leave marks, and fuck, Rafe loved it. He groaned into your mouth, hips grinding against yours, chasing the friction like a man starved.

“Y'like teasing me, huh?” he panted, dragging his mouth down your jaw, nipping at your pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His voice was strained. "Makin' me wanna fuck you stupid?”

You whimpered.

That was all he needed.

His hands yanked your hips closer, grinding you against his thigh, right there, and fuck, you felt everything—felt how hard he was, how badly he wanted you.

You wanted him just as bad.

“Rafe—” you gasped, head tilting back against the wall, body burning.

He grinned against your throat, smug and dark. “There’s my girl.”

You whined, nails scraping against the back of his neck, and Rafe swore.

“Gonna fuckin' kill me,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your collarbone, his hands now fully cupping your tits, squeezing like he needed to feel every inch of you.

Your hips rocked against him, your body completely shameless, seeking out every bit of friction you could get. The slick between your thighs was unbearable, and his thigh between your legs was making it so much worse.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you groaned, and that did it. That fucking did it.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing your head back so he could drown you in another filthy kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating, possessive, his spit mixing with yours until it was dripping down your chin.

He loved it—loved you like this, breathless, wrecked, nails digging into his back, chest pressing flush against his like you were trying to fuse your body to his.

Rafe wasn’t even thinking anymore, his hips rutted against yours, his hands gripping your ass like he wanted to leave bruises, like he needed you to feel him tomorrow.

He broke the kiss, just enough to look at you, and fuck, he’d never seen anything hotter—lips swollen, spit everywhere, your breath all shaky and uneven.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers slipping lower, teasing. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His thigh flexed between your legs, and you gasped, body jolting, the friction was too good, too much, and Rafe fucking felt it. His smirk was nothing short of wicked as he did it again, pressing you harder against the wall, grinding his leg up into you.

“That feel good, baby?” 

You could barely get the word out. “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He kissed you again, this time slower, his tongue licking into your mouth in long, lazy strokes, he had all the time in the world to ruin you. One of his hands slid up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, holding you in place.

Your pulse hammered against his palm. Rafe felt it. He fucking loved it.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your jaw, his other hand still gripping your waist, still rocking you against his thigh. His knee nudged up higher, pressing right where you needed him most, and your fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Rafe—”

He grinned against your lips. “That’s it, baby.”

Your brain was dead, but somewhere in the mess of it all, one clear thought hit you—

Of course he was the type of guy to talk you through it.

Of course, Rafe fucking Cameron would be the kind of guy who couldn’t just let you fall apart on your own. No, he had to be right there, dragging you through it, forcing you to hear every filthy, possessive word dripping from his lips.

The pressure between your legs was building, tight in your tummy, and you didn’t care that you were still in a fucking hallway, that anyone could walk by. You were too lost in him.

Rafe must’ve seen it on your face because his smirk faded. His fingers tightened just a little around your throat, his thigh flexing again, and fuck—

You whimpered, your hips rolling against him, chasing more, more, more.

Rafe groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, his lips brushing yours as he panted.

“God, fuckin' love you like this,” he muttered.

Just to wreck you further, he tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his, his blue eyes dark.

“You’re shakin',” His tone was smug, satisfied, “You gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was pure sin. “Just like this?”

You gasped, pleasure sparking like electricity through your veins, and Rafe smirked—because he already knew the answer.

His grip on your throat tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make you dizzy with it.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t ya?” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, eating up the way you moaned against his mouth. “So fuckin' desperate for me you’re about to come like this—rubbin' yourself on my thigh like a needy little thing.”

You should’ve been embarrassed, should’ve cared that you were still standing in a fucking hallway, grinding against him like you’d lost every ounce of dignity.

“Tell me, princess,” he growled, his thigh flexing between your legs, making you bite your lip. “Did that motherfucker ever make y'feel like this?”

You didn’t regist the words at first, but then you realized Rafe wasn’t just asking—he needed to hear it. 

Your breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders. “No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “Never—fuck—never like this.”

That was all he needed.

His grip tightened, his hands sliding down to grab your ass, dragging you against him harder, rougher, making you moan into his mouth. 

“Didn’t fuckin' think so,” he muttered, his teeth grazing your jaw, “That’s my pretty girl,” he coaxed, his lips still dragging down your throat.

Your body tensed, thights closing around his.You gasped, back arching against the wall, fingers pulling at his shirt.

Your breath came in desperate, uneven gasps.

He couldn’t just let you have it.

No, Rafe fucking Cameron had to drag it out—had to make sure you felt every last second of it, had to talk you through it like he got off on watching you break.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his grip on your hips bruising as he forced you to keep moving against him, his thigh flexing up to meet you with every devastating grind. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

You whimpered, your entire body on the verge of collapse, pleasure building so deep that it almost hurt.

His fingers slipped under your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him, to see the way his blue eyes were blown with want.

“That’s it,” he murmured as a wrecked sound ripped from your throat, your body arching against his, because fuck, fuck, fuck—you were still right there.

Your breath hitched, your legs trembled, your mind blanking.

“Oh, fuck—” he groaned, feeling you shake apart in his hands, eating gup every twitch, every little gasp. His lips pressing against your cheek, murmuring filthy, wrecked praises against your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride,  “Look at you.”

Your body was still buzzing, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your legs shaking where they were wrapped around Rafe’s waist. His forehead still pressed against yours when your phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the post orgasm haze in your brain like a bucket of freezing water to the face, bringing you to the absolute insanity of what had just happened.

Oh, fuck.

Rafe groaned, annoyed, pressing his lips to yours again, not ready to let you go. “Ignore it,” he muttered, “They’ll call back.”

But then you saw the name on the screen.

Kie.

Your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” you whispered, your hands immediately shoving at Rafe’s shoulders, wiggling out of his grip. He hesitated for half a second before letting you down, his brows furrowing at how suddenly you pulled away.

Your legs barely worked, body was still tingling from the way he had just ruined you, but you forced yourself to stumble back, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Kie?”

“Thank God,” her voice came rushed, stressed. “It’s—fuck, it’s Liv. She got rookied.”

Rookied.

You knew what that meant. Some asshole upperclassmen had put her through some fucked-up hazing bullshit, and now she was probably wasted, crying, or worse.

“I’m coming,” you said instantly, already running a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look less like you’d just been getting wrecked in a hallway.

Rafe was watching you.

You could feel his eyes on you, his body still so close, his hands still flexing at his sides like he wanted to grab you, pull you back in.

But you couldn’t think about that.

Holy shit.

Your childhood friend, your brother’s best friend, the guy you had a crush on when you were twelve.

You had just grinded on Rafe Cameron like a desperate whore and fucking came on his thigh in the middle of a goddamn hallway.

You felt your face go hot, embarrassment sinking in like a slow-moving poison, drowning out the last bit of euphoria still clinging to your skin.

Rafe stepped closer, his brows drawing together, picking up on your demeanor.

“You okay?” His voice was still rough, breathless.

You swallowed hard, shoving your phone into your pocket. “I—I have to go.”

His frown deepened. “What? Now?”

You nodded, your hands shaking as you avoided his eyes, you couldn’t look at him.

“I have to take Liv home,” you rushed out, already stepping away, trying to put distance between you and the biggest mistake of your life.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Need help?”

His voice was genuine, and for some reason, that made your stomach twist even more.

“No,” you said shaking your head. “I—I got it.”

His eyes searched yours, you knew exactly what he was looking for—regret.

You didn’t say another word. You just turned and walked away, ignoring the way your legs still trembled, ignoring the way your lips still tingled from his kiss, ignoring the way your heart slammed against your ribs because holy shit, what the fuck did you just do?

[littlemissshifter]

There is no 'imagination'.

Someone needs to tell you this but everyone is too busy struggling between the two so I'll do it. Reality is the only thing that exists. It just exists differently in different planes.

In the 4D we call it Imagination but honestly it's not really something we're 'imagining', it's reality somewhere out there. IT IS reality in your head as well even if you don't believe it.

When you 'imagine' something you're not making it up. Creation is already finished. You're choosing a particular reality. A particular thought. A particular outcome. Because everything has already happened. Think of your mind as a dress up game. There are cloth options (thoughts/realities) in different clothing sections (related to the thing you want). You are combining clothes from those sections to get your desired outfit (desire/outcome).

Imagination is what reality is called in the 4D plane. Imagination is a different name for reality. They are the same thing with different names. This is why we can also say that reality is just an imagination or 'everything is in the mind'. Everything was one all along.

This is very different than saying reality mirrors/reflects imagination. Yes imagination exists sure blah blah blah but it's just a different name for reality. It's something that you haven't physically experienced yet. It's not actually in your head in a way that it's not real. Everything in your head is a very real reality in the multiverse. A very real outcome. Just not yours right now in the present (unless you choose it).

I don't think you get it. Let me explain again. Imagination does not exist in a way you think. Your every single thought, the images in your head, your 'fake' scenarios, your 'fake' arguments, literally anything you can think of or feel inside your head is real. Maybe not here maybe not right now. But it is real in a reality 'out there' which is basically just inside your mind, because the mind is the multiverse.

You are choosing the scenario, the thought, the image from infinite realities out there (in the mind) with infinite possibilities. Like you choose a scenario to happen in your dr except here it has already happened. Everything has already happened. That is you connecting yourself to different realities in the multiverse. The mind is connected to every reality that is existing because it exists inside the mind. That's why it's said that you are the universe. Because YOU ARE. Continuosly shifting, changing, choosing from the mind. You are existence.

Before anyone says something dumb like imagination/4D plane is the true reality I'll explain that every plane is a true reality abiding by their own unique set of rules. There is no true reality to you in your perspective except what YOU decide to BE. You exist in every plane. Your existence in every plane abides by it's rules. Unless you decide to change the rules of your existence.

You can be a 1D object. A line.

You can be a 2D object. A map (if you wanna add spice to it then a talking map.)

You can be a 3D object. A ball. (You already are a 3D being.)

You can be a 4D object. A hypercube.

And so much more. Everything is energy. You're probably a rock in a different reality/universe. Maybe a line in a world of paper. Or a talking ball. Or just a ray of light. Come on don't loose focus now. You're the entire universe what else did you expect?

We strayed a little from the topic here but like I was saying the mind is like a place where every single reality has a tea party. What you don't experience physically doesn't mean it didn't happen. In the mind reality is faster. Because everything is happening right now. The physical plane has a slow moving energy so we can 'experience' our life. Like I said everything happens a little different in different planes.

Everything is a reality (or different universes). It's like reality (you) in a reality (physical plane) which you can mould to your will because you are the reason why it (reality) exists. You are existence itself. Pure awareness experiencing the experience that already exists in you. Your mind. The void.

There is no innerman or outerman you're literally both. One's literally a different name for the other and vice versa. Stop looking for the middle ground when you are the middle ground. You are reason they even exist. Why? because only you exist. Everything that exists is the same thing which came from you with different forms, different names, different energetic pattern, different rules for each of them. That's why everything is connected.

Different realities are creating a reality you're currently living. Your own reality is a mix of many combined together moment after moment so you can experience things in the physical plane.

The reason imagination was even popularised as something that creates reality is because people thought that to experience something we have to 'imagine' it first. But they're wrong. They were doing the right things but intercepting it wrong. We don't imagine anything. We live it the moment we even think about it. Everyone is understanding it now. Imagination is not reality. Nothing was ever imagination in the first place. Everything inside your head was always real.

Reality is fluid. Human beings are fluid. They are both free flowing energies. We pass through different realities the same way different realities pass through us at every moment. Remember folks, shifting is your nature.

Everything is and will always be a reality existing in the multiverse.

Let me decode some popular quotes for you to understand.

- The universe is mental.

Meaning: Everything exists is in the mind because every reality exists where it was created by pure awareness, hence the mind. Realities are expanded outwards through us, chosen from pure awareness experienced through the heart (the knowing/feelings) which exists in your physical body. Which further exists in the mind because it was also created by pure awareness.

Confusing? Well because pure awareness, the mind, realities and us are the same thing expressed in different ways. Like I said everything is connected.

- As within, so without.

Meaning: This one is quite obvious. What we see on the outside of us is also inside of us. I explained all that in this post and my reality is YOU post already.

There is no imagination. Reality has always been the only truth.

I've been working on this post for 2 days hope y'all understood atleast a little. I'm super tired can't wait to just pass out right now. Ignore any typos please and feel free to ask any questions!

[dreaminguponlilypads]

AFTER THE FIRE.

Captain John Price x GN!reader

The night before had been ugly.

Neither of you had meant for it to spiral the way it did—raised voices, sharp words, the kind of fight that left both of you lying awake, staring at opposite walls. Now, in the cold light of morning, Captain John Price acted as if nothing had happened.

And that pissed you off.

You moved through the safehouse, checking your gear, barely sparing him a glance. He did the same, the space between you filled with everything unsaid.

“Move out in five,” Price said, voice clipped. To anyone else, it would just sound like orders. To you, it was distance.

“Copy that,” you replied, equally detached.

This mission should’ve been routine—gather intel from a cartel hideout, sweep the area, get out. You and Price had worked together long enough that your coordination was near flawless. But today, the weight of last night’s argument threw everything off.

His commands over comms were too sharp. Your responses were too short. It felt like trying to dance while stepping on each other’s feet.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with dust and tension. You moved ahead, clearing corners, trusting Price at your back. The silence between you was deafening.

Then, you slipped.

Not literally, but just enough—your focus fractured for half a second too long. A hostile lunged from the shadows, shoving you hard against a crate, the muzzle of his rifle too damn close.

A gunshot rang out, and the weight disappeared. You barely had time to react before Price was in front of you, hand gripping your arm, eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, looking you over. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you said, but your pulse was racing for more reasons than just the fight.

Price didn’t let go. His grip was firm, grounding, but there was something else there—concern, frustration. Maybe even regret.

“You’re off your game,” he said lowly.

You tensed. “Yeah, well, so are you.”

Silence stretched between you. The air crackled with everything neither of you had the time to say.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, releasing your arm. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing at him. “We will.”

And just like that, the mission continued. But something between you had shifted, the ice beginning to thaw.

It wasn’t fixed yet. But it would be.

Hopefully.

The ride back to base was quiet, but not in the peaceful way.

Soap and Gaz were talking up front, but you weren’t listening. Your arms were crossed, your jaw set, and beside you, John was doing that thing he always did after a fight—acting like it never happened.

Like he could just pretend it was all water under the bridge. Like the tension sitting between you wasn’t thicker than the damn armor on your chest.

So, when the truck rolled to a stop, he climbed out first, walked off like nothing was wrong, and left you sitting there, stewing.

Fine.

You took your time unloading your gear, making sure you didn’t accidentally “forget” something and have to hear about it later. By the time you made it to your shared quarters, the door was already cracked open.

You stepped inside and found him sitting on the bed, arms resting on his thighs, watching you with that steady, unreadable expression. The kind that usually meant he was letting you work through your own mess before he stepped in.

You weren’t in the mood for it.

“You got something to say, or are we just gonna keep playing the silent game?” you asked, tilting your head.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. “You’re still wound up.”

“Wow, what gave it away?”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. “We gonna talk about it?”

“You mean the part where you acted like I was just another soldier all day?” You crossed your arms, stepping closer. “Or the part where you almost got us both killed because you were too busy ignoring me?”

He tilted his head slightly, calm as ever. “Far as I recall, you’re the one who hesitated.”

Your jaw clenched. “Maybe I was too busy thinking about the fact that my husband turned into a damn robot overnight.”

John exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“You sure? Because I spent the whole day wondering if I’d suddenly become invisible.”

“Noticed you just fine when I had to put a bullet in the bloke about to take your head off,” he said evenly.

That hit a nerve.

“You really gonna throw that in my face?” you snapped.

“I’m saying,” he continued, still infuriatingly calm, “that I can be pissed off and still do my job.”

“Oh, so I was just being unprofessional?” You scoffed. “Good to know, Captain.”

John sighed through his nose, standing up slowly. He didn’t get in your space, didn’t try to crowd you, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach tighten.

“I’m saying you let it fester instead of just talking to me. I’m saying you’re still letting it fester now.”

“Because you act like nothing gets to you!” You threw your hands up. “You just walk off, all quiet and broody, and I’m left stewing in it while you—what? Smoke a cigar and pretend you’re fine?”

John huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. “That what you think I do?”

“That or drink whiskey and stare dramatically out a window.”

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured. “And still lookin’ for a fight.”

“I’m looking for an answer,” you shot back. “Or at least a reaction, but you’re too busy playing it cool.”

John tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was considering something.

Then he moved.

One second, you were glaring at him, the next, his hands were on your face, his mouth on yours, stealing the rest of your words before you could even think to protest.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was firm, steady, enough to make you stumble back a step before you caught yourself. His grip was warm, grounding, and when he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk was damn near smug.

“That reaction enough for you?” he murmured.

Your breath was uneven, your heart pounding, but you refused to let him win that easily.

“That all you got, old man?” you muttered, just to be difficult.

John chuckled, low and deep, then kissed you again—harder this time, like he was determined to shut you up for good.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Ooo Yay! I can't wait to see what you thought about this UNHINGED fic 😂

On one hand, perfect makeout music. On the other hand, Dean is SOOOO freakin' jealous, but it's so frustrating that pushing down his own feelings for her has resulted in him being such a dick to her, before and during this moment. 😫😫

Oh yes, definitely setting the mood for the reader and Ben in the back seat lol. We all know that Dean has probably pulled the same thing in the past 😆 Dean is VERY jealous and it's only pushing the reader away from him more, but he can't stop it. He's stuck in a vicious cycle that is turning into one of Dante's circles of hell when Ben showed up LOL.

*snorts* I love both of these analogies. 🤣

Thank you! I was like... what else has a roadtrip in it? 😂

Deaaaaaan you complete and utter idiot!! What's even worse is that she did feel that spark with him when they first met, until he opened his big dumb mouth lmao.

He really has pushed down his feelings, a few people have pointed out to me that Dean is acting like the playground bully who likes a girl but can't express it in a healthy way and that is one million percent what's happening here lol. The reader did like him when they first met, but again he just didn't express his feelings in a healthy way and now he has to sit and watch Ben and the reader make out in the back seat of his car 😂

Lol sounds like the Winchester Way to me. 🫠

Absolutely 👏🏻 The reader is basically the male version of Dean tbh. Except she shoved down her feelings and then went to sleep with someone who looked exactly like Dean 🤣 Because that was also healthy right? lol

My heart was so torn throughout this entire fic, you have no idea!! The way she manages to pacify him loll. So sweet and sexy in a way, but also, you get the sense that she thinks Ben might just see her as a pretty face, even if he does care about her deep down? It makes you wonder where her heart is truly going to lie at the end of all this angsty love-triangle goodness.

Mine was too! I literally kept going back and forth from Ben to Dean, trying to figure out who she should be with. Because she has incredible chemistry with Ben and she understands him in a way that I think he's not used to. And on the other hand Dean understands her because she's a hunter, he's just being a stubborn idiot 🤣

AND you're right! The reader thinks that Ben only sees her as a pretty face at the moment. She doesn't understand that he has started to develop feelings for her. But I think that the reader also believes that Ben has the possibility to become more than just someone she sleeps with. That he could love her if she let him and if she loved him.

Oh my God this part was completely unhinged and it was hilarious! But the way Ben decides to "get rid of her" is unfortunately on-brand, not caring enough about the collateral damage, the risk of the reader getting hurt. 💔 Even though he does check on her afterwards, the way Dean protected her has my heart swinging back to him and melting in a whole different way!! 😫 Gah! This is so conflicting! loll don't do this to me, friend. 😂😂 I need to dive right into Part 3 so I get to see what happens between her, Ben, and Dean, and just who will confess their feelings first...

Yes see, I went to see Wicked with my friends the weekend before I wrote this and you have no idea how much I love the OC Iris that I made for this fic. I was also thinking "how many references to How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days can I put in one fic?" lol. I was sad that I had to kill her- but it had to be done. There needed to be a dramatic moment where Dean chose to save the reader and give the reader a little bit of doubt about Ben and also show the way he is (unfortunately). But Ben coming to check on the reader literally put me on the fence all over again because he was being soft for her 😭

I'm so sorry to do that to you my friend!! But admit it, you love the angst lmao 💞😉

Thank you so much for all your comments my lovely friend! I always love to hear what you think! And I can't wait to read what you think of Part 3! 💗

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader,

POV: Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. Cursing, Making Out, DEATH, Violence (only a little), Jealousy, Pining, Kinda Sad Vibes In Some Places, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). References to Future Sex. Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester (aka. being moody and super hot).

Listen While You Read: Jealous Again By The Black Crowes

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It was so fun to come back to this universe again! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love and support that you've gave me in writing the first part and thank you for all the encouragement to write a part 2! And also please don't forget to check out Stranded by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this fic!💗

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Can the two of you stop playing find my tonsils and tell me where the hell it is I'm supposed to be driving to?" Dean grouses from the driver's seat while Sam leans over a road map squinting to look at the small print.

"Ready For Love" is playing over the speakers, barely audible over the thud of fat raindrops pummeling the windshield, blocking out the world around you, and sending the shadows racing across your skin where Ben and you are sitting in the backseat.

“Well, if you’d given me a few hours to fuck her at the motel instead of throwing a bitch fit-" Ben begins to say, turning his gaze your face to stare at the back of Dean's head with a lazy smile.

“Dean why do you care?" You interrupt Ben with red cheeks. "I know for a fact worse things have happened in the backseat of your car than Ben and me making out."

"Really? Because I can’t think of anything worse that you and him sucking on each other's tongues and helping the spread of mono." Dean's hands tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense.

He’s more wound up than a tinker toy.

It has been exactly thirty three minutes since Dean's mental breakdown back at the motel when Ben showed up. Furthermore, despite how much Dean had screamed at you at the motel, it appeared that he was still going to act like a two year old who wanted a cookie before dinner.

Sam's suggestion for the four of you to figure out why Ben was here had been a welcome distraction from Dean's spiral. It had prompted all of you to pile into Baby to try and find where it was that Ben landed in your universe and find a clue as to why.

But so far the trip had been less like riding in the Mystery Machine and more like riding with the Griswold's on their road trip to Wally World…

Dean had been supportive of trying to find a solution to what he deemed the "Ben problem," but it appeared that Dean was going to spend every waking minute getting on your nerves.

Honestly, what's new?

You didn’t understand why Dean was so damn argumentative whenever you showed up, it was like he lived to make your life as difficult as possible.

It had always been that way. Since the first day you met Sam and him at Ellen's bar forever ago, Dean had never once said something nice about you or to you.

He always found some little thing to nit pick, whether it be your aim, your research skills, or your technique when hunting and you were sick of it. Each time the two of you worked together, it was Sam's job to make sure it didn't end in bloodshed. Even Cas noticed Dean's underlying hostility towards you and when he asked Dean what was wrong, Dean had brushed him off with a "not now Cas."

Worse was the time that you got hurt (only a minor injury) on a hunt a few weeks ago when you got thrown into a glass cabinet while facing down a poltergeist. Dean had chewed you out for a good twenty minutes and even with Sam's ability to intervene, you'd broken Dean's nose for speaking to you like that, and then rushed off to your room in the bunker before he had a chance to see you cry.

It was the one thing that you never allowed yourself to do in front of Dean Winchester, cry. He didn't deserve your tears, especially not when he was being a total grade A asshole.

When Sam came in later to help you get patched up, you asked him why Dean hated you and Sam tried to convince you otherwise, but you knew the truth.

Dean Winchester hated you, and you had no idea why. So you decided to stop trying to make him like you, because if he was going to act like a total dick he didn't deserve you being nice to him.

You knew that was why you liked Ben more. Ben appreciated you (sort of), he wasn't mean, he listened to you (sometimes), and he did give you compliments… well, they all revolved around the way you looked and that was nice, but just you wanted someone to give you a compliment that had to do with something else. Or maybe just a simple "I see you."

Is that so hard to ask?

Your few flings in the past hadn't been anything special. You didn't have the kind of stable lifestyle that prompted or supported long serious relationships, especially with non-hunters. Not to mention you'd always had this fantasy about meeting another hunter who understood exactly what you went through and what you had gone through over the years. It was often difficult to find a non-hunter who could understand that.

The bunker was the first permanent address that you'd ever had. Your mother had been one of the best hunters in the US, known by all, and you never met your dad, which meant that growing up on the road was the only life you knew. She'd died a year before you started working with the Winchesters which meant that you didn't exactly have anyone that you cared about or anyone who cared about you.

The thought often brought the feeling of loneliness stirring in your chest, but you pushed it down, throwing everything you had into hunting.

Healthy right?

Ben's muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed over your lower back to keep you tight against his chest so there is no space between the two of you, while your hands locked at the back of his neck. You didn't usually like PDA that much, occasionally yes, but you'll admit that you were only allowing yourself to give in to Ben a little more, because you liked how much it annoyed Dean.

Yes, you thought that it was absolutely ridiculous how Dean was acting, but you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because in all the years you'd known him, you’d never found one thing to hold over his head or one thing that really irritated him, and Ben was working like a charm.

It also felt really good to kiss him, but that was beside the point.

You understood that Dean was having a psychotic break with his constant proclamations that Ben "was him," but you wanted to at least understand why Dean was still hung up on it.

Ben isn't Dean. Sure they have the same face, but Ben is different… isn't he?

When you'd encountered Ben for the first time you had done a double take, but the more you were around him, the more you appreciated the way he treated you differently from Dean. Yes he was a little sexist, but Ben made you feel wanted and Dean had a way of making you feel stupid and often like a burden, as if you'd been plopped on his doorstep like a box of kittens and he was stuck with you.

There was only so much that you could take.

You didn't know what you'd done to earn such hostility. Dean was far from sexist, and you'd seen him interact with other people, it was just you he treated differently and it made you want to strangle him.

"Calm down kid-" Ben sighs.

"Stop calling me that!" Dean turns around to glare at the man next to you.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Sam says, not looking up from the map. He didn't need to.

"What a wonderful suggestion Sammy, but see I can't because I have no idea where the hell it is I'm going!" Dean snipes at his brother.

I swear at this point if Gabriel pops out of nowhere and tells me that this is all just a fucked up dream, I'd believe it.

"Stop being damn hormonal kid, and keep driving." Ben rolls his eyes and moves his lips to your throat, nipping and biting along the flesh visible over the top of your jacket, making you gasp softly and lean into Ben's warm embrace.

Your eyes meet Dean's in the rear view mirror and just for a second you see something flash through them that isn't anger, but it's gone just as soon as you clock it.

What was that?

Dean slams on the brakes and Ben tightens his grip on your body so you don't go flying forward into the bucket seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, curiosity gone, as you glare at Dean.

The tension in the car is high, popping and crackling around the four of you like popcorn. You still couldn't understand why Dean had such a problem with Ben. If anything you'd think that they'd get along a little bit.

"I am not being hormonal or whatever other chauvinistic shit that is about to come out of your mouth." Dean snarls, ignoring you, as he turns and narrows his eyes at Ben. "And I am not your chauffeur. So tell me where the hell it is I'm going so you can get the fuck out of my car and out of my life!"

Ben opens his mouth to retort something, no doubt that'll trigger Dean, but you speak before he can.

"Ben, do you remember anything about where you came through?" You ask him. You were trying to be more diplomatic even though Dean was making your blood boil.

Just because Dean is mad at me does not mean that he gets to take it out on Ben. Ben hasn't done anything wrong. He got sucked into this reality and immediately got pulled into Dean's soap opera.

Ben huffs out a sigh as he turns back to look at you. His gaze softens a little as his eyes meet yours, turning from a dark green to a jade. "There was a building-"

"Oh wow, how helpful!" Dean snarks. "Did you hear that Sammy? There was a building! Mystery solved!"

Ben whips his head in Dean's direction, the air in the car growing hot as Ben's skin begins to heat, but you gently lay your hand on his cheek to bring his gaze back on you. "Dean is an asshole. We all know." You say to Ben, reassuring him and ignoring the look Dean gives you when you say it. "Do you remember anything about the building?"

Getting Ben angry wasn't the way to get information out of him, he was, after all, more like Dean than you were willing to admit. And just as you'd seen Dean get worked over by numerous women, including Bella, sweet talking worked the best.

Well, it never worked when you tried to do it, because Dean refused to treat you any way other than an annoyance.

But two could play that game, especially with the way that Dean was acting right now.

Ben's jaw tightens and you know that he's biting back some remark to throw Dean's way, but you pull him closer, trailing your hand over his bearded cheek to keep his attention and gently bring your lips to his. You feel the tension shift from Ben's shoulders beneath the palms of your hands as he relaxes into the kiss, and this time Ben smiles when you pull away, giving your hips an encouraging squeeze. "It was a school or some shit. And there was a billboard for "World's Biggest Beer Can.""

"Okay. We can work with that." Sam says giving you a sympathetic look before pulling out his phone to type something in.

At least Sam is being normal about this whole thing.

Sam and you always got along, from the start he was the older brother that you never had, and it was refreshing. Not to mention Sam was your best and probably only friend. The hunter life was lonely and you found it difficult to make friends anyway, but something about Sam always stuck. He got your abnormal sense of humor, he gave the best hugs, and he stood up for you when things got heated between Dean and you. It was his idea for you to move into the bunker with him and Dean, and also him that convinced Dean to let you move in.

It had taken days for Dean to finally say yes. And when he did, he made you move into the bedroom next to his as if he wanted to keep an eye on you because he didn't trust you.

And as much as you hated living with Dean, living with Sam made up for it. You liked helping him research while Dean bitched and moaned about reading through dusty volumes, liked helping him clean up while Dean followed behind you as if you couldn't be trusted, liked helping Sam try to make dinner that ended up more burned than anything else until Dean stepped in and shooed the both of you from the kitchen so he could make something, and liked kicking back on the couch watching movies with Sam while eating copious amounts of popcorn.

Unfortunately, Dean didn't get the hint that you wanted him to leave you alone so he'd follow Sam and you, crack open a beer, and proceed to give a personal commentary on the movie the two of you were watching, occasionally throwing a look in your direction as if he was checking that you were listening to him. Weirder still was the fact that Dean would do that when Sam wasn't with you.

You noticed that sometimes, that no matter where you were in the bunker, Dean just happened to find himself in the same room. But that didn't mean he would speak, sometimes he would just be cleaning one of his guns or quietly reading through a dusty volume or writing something down in a notebook, but you swore sometimes you thought that Dean was looking at you. Each time you looked up though, he was looking down at whatever else it was he was doing.

It was those moments that made you think that things could be civil between the two of you, and then he'd get on your case for doing something he deemed "wrong" when you knew you did it right the first time as if you hadn't been a hunter as long as he had.

He probably does that because he doesn't trust me.

Dean grumbles something under his breath and turns his gaze back out the windshield, watching the wiper blades go back and forth over the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben frowns and you know that he must have been able to hear whatever it was Dean said.

Why can't we all just get along for five minutes? Is that too much to ask?

"Alright I've got something." Sam says ending the uncomfortable silence in the car. "The World's Biggest Beer Can is in Northwood about ten miles ahead of us."

"Finally. At least someone is pulling their weight." Dean states before he hits the gas, the force throws you backwards into the seat.

Your gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror and notice that Dean is watching you again, but you turn away to Ben who smiles wide and pulls you back towards him for a kiss.

But deep down you can't help but wonder if Dean had been watching the two of you in his rearview mirror the whole time and why he cared so much.

The building that Ben remembers is in fact, an abandoned school.

The roof sags inward allowing rainwater to pool in the front lobby over black and white checkered tiles, the lockers are rusted and thrown to the floor at odd angles making you worry about the possibility of tetanus, and there is an ungodly stench that you can only describe as old gym socks, axe body spray, and unwashed feet.

Ben's nose wrinkles where he stands beside you, and you're sure that no matter what your sense of smell is experiencing it's a million times worse for him.

You press your lips into a tight line, toeing around a puddle of something gray and sticky that you can't identify, but know for a fact you don't want it in your shoes. Your eyes squint into the looming darkness that grows the more you stare down the forgotten hallways.

It’s always gotta be an old creepy building. Just once I want to get to investigate a donut shop or a burger joint or a Starbucks.

"Any of this looking familiar Captain Sexual Harassment?" Dean asks turning with his flashlight to point in Ben's face.

Ben shrugs and squints at the offending light. "I don’t fucking know."

"Enlightening." Dean huffs out a breath. "Well, guess we can split up and-"

Thank God I won't have to listen to Dean mutter things under his breath and freak out.

"Fine." You interrupt. "Come on Ben." You start to walk down one of the dark hallways, but Dean slides in front of you to block your path.

"No way. You're not going with him." Dean waves his flashlight in Ben's face again and you can see the twitch on the corner of Dean's mouth to see how much he enjoys blinding him.

Why does he always have to act like such a child?

"Why?" You demand.

"Because as soon as Sam and I get out the picture, Grandpa over there is going to pull you aside and fuck you in one of the classrooms." Dean says it without blinking, but it makes you flush red in embarrassment and anger.

"No, he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

Dean is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your face. His eyes are narrowed in anger, but you can see another emotion flick through them so quickly you think you imagined it. It was the same emotion that you thought you saw in the car, but you can't identify it, not yet.

Ben's hand comes down on Dean's shoulder, a wide smirk on his face. "Look kid, I get it. She's fucking hot and I know you think I'm trying to horn in on your action-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean exclaims shaking off Ben's hand.

"You're jealous because she decided to be with a real man instead of you." Ben shrugs. His gaze travels up and down Dean as if appraising him before he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I can't blame her. Someone like you couldn't handle her.

"I could handle her just fine!" Dean snaps back his face flushing as he forces his chest against Ben's, who only smirks back.

What did he just say?

Your entire body goes stick straight in surprise and you turn your head to stare at Dean. In all the years that you'd known Dean he's never once said something like that to you.

Sure there was the night you met…

You hadn't thought about it in years. You'd been back in town because Bobby had called asking you to help out some friends of his on a case and you'd stopped in to Ellen's bar to see Jo. Dean had come on to you and you'd splashed a beer in his face and also maybe pinned him down against the bar. It had been awkward the next day when you found out that Dean and Sam were the friends that Bobby wanted you to help out, but you pushed past all the weird feelings to help.

Dean had flirted with you that night and you will admit to yourself that you thought Dean was attractive before he opened his mouth, but since that night the two of you hadn't spoken about it. In fact, you were both perfectly happy pretending that it didn't happen.

Or so you thought.

Dean's dark green eyes flick to yours in realization. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure kid." Ben's smirk grows to Cheshire Cat proportions.

"Stop calling me that!"

The weird thing was, you'd seen Dean lose his temper, it always flared fast and hot broken up with sarcastic comments, but for some reason this felt different and you didn't understand why. It didn't feel like Dean just getting angry because Ben was getting under his skin, it felt like something else.

"Whoa!" You get between the two of them for the second time in an hour. "If you guys keep fighting like this I'm going to put you both in time out!"

"He started it!" Dean glares at Ben, who doesn't look the least bit upset.

"I don’t care who started it! You're grown men and you're still acting like toddlers. I shouldn't have to separate you." You snap waving around your flashlight at Dean.

"How about this?" Sam sighs from where he stands a few feet away. "I'll go with Ben and the two of you can try not to shoot each other."

"Why can't I go with you?" You sigh to your friend.

"You want to leave them together? Alone?" Sam raises his eyebrow.

Not really.

Sam takes your silence rightfully as confirmation, because the both of you knew if you left Dean and Ben together it would probably be a Thunderdome situation or a reenactment of the WWE.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up." Dean says looking at his brother.

"You scared kid?" Ben smirks. " No wonder she decided to fuck me instead of you. You’re acting like a little bitch."

"You son of a bitch-" Dean finally snaps and launches himself towards Ben, but your hand fists in the back of Dean's leather jacket to stop him from starting a fight that you know he won't win.

It wasn't that you thought Ben was a better fighter than Dean, it was that Ben had super strength and would have no qualms ripping Dean in half. And despite how much Dean annoyed you, you didn't want him to die. Sure he was a jerk, but he didn't deserve that after everything he'd been through, and Sam didn't need to bear witness to that.

"Fine." You say. "Ben please go with Sam."

Ben rolls his eyes and follows after Sam, leaving Dean and you standing in the lobby alone, the only sound the soft plop of water echoing down the empty hallway.

Great. Now I'm stuck with Dean in a creepy old building. It's a dream come true. The stuff of Disney movies.

"Why did you do that?" Dean snaps at you when Ben and Sam turn a corner out of sight.

"You should be thanking me! Ben would rip you in half without batting an eye!" You turn back towards the empty hallway and try to put as much distance as you can between Dean and you.

Distance is good, nice. It means that I can only partly hear his disapproval.

"You don't know that." Dean catches up with you, sweeping the path in front of you with his flashlight looking for holes in the floor.

"Yes, I do. I've seen him do it before."

By now you were aware that there was a chill in the air, it was unnatural, creeping down the hallway in a thin mist that made a shiver crawl down your spine. Dean must sense it too, because he pulls his gun at the same time you do.

That or he's doing it because he's about to go Rambo on Ben's ass.

Because that'll end well…

"If he rips people in half why do you like him so much?"

“He’s not a bad person if that’s what you’re getting at. Ben did it to save me.” You point your flashlight into one of the classrooms along the hallway noting the rotted desks tipped over onto the checkered floor. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ben's world was filled with more than a few crazed individuals, and when you'd been in his universe Ben had stepped in when a supe threw themselves at you. Truthfully, even though Ben did what he did to protect you, watching him pull someone apart with his bare hands made you sick to your stomach. Given what you'd seen, that was saying something. But you knew that Ben wouldn't hurt you, he wasn't that kind of man, and you weren't afraid of him.

“You’ve known him for five days! How can you tell after five days?!” Dean nudges a cardboard box with his boot sending a family of cockroaches scuttling into the shadows.

"Because I can!" Your lip curves up in distaste at the appearance of the roaches and try not to imagine all the walls infested with the little bugs.

You didn't like roaches. Especially ones that all of a sudden developed the ability to fly in your presence as if it were a miracle.

The two of you continue to walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps masking the constant dripping noise that comes from the floor above.

Your temper was flaring all over again. You didn't think that you needed to explain any of this to him. Dean never felt the need to discuss his extensive history with women with you and you didn't feel the need to discuss the ins and outs of your and Ben's situation.

"Come on-" He begins to say, but you don't want to hear it.

"Dammit Dean just fucking drop it." You throw your shoulder against a door at the end of the hallway, putting everything you have into it and a little more. You were getting frustrated at Dean's continuous commentary on your life. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore or listen to any of the ridiculous reasons why you think that it's any of your business who I sleep with."

“I think it is my business because you were about to reenact the scene from Titanic in the back of my car!”

“Oh please. I’m sure that you’ve reenacted it billions of times back there. Mr. Saturday Night!” You roll your eyes hitting the door again with your shoulder.

“It’s my car!" Dean shouts, moving you out of the way in a surprisingly gentle way, before he savagely kicks down the door. "I can do whatever I damn well please!”

I wonder if Sam and Ben are having a better time than us. It wouldn't be difficult to.

The door opens with a snap under the force of Dean's kick depositing Dean and you into a large auditorium. The seats are a faded gray and the curtains that hang from the sides of the stage, once blood red, were more of a muddled pink stained with splotches of dark spots and filled with holes the size of the Impala.

Crawling vines and ferns have begun to tangle over the empty seats and over the floors, absorbing anything in their path. The wooden stage is dilapidated and caving in on itself, the boards jutting upwards instead of laying flat as they should in some places from years of water damage. The carpet beneath your feet is squishy and moth eaten, and each step sends another cloud of dust into the air making the room hazy and you cough into your elbow.

"Not to mention he's me!" Dean continues, tramping into the room behind you.

"How many times are you going to say that?" You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying your best to keep it together.

"As many times as I have to, to get the point into your thick skull!"

You whirl around and poke your finger into his chest. "You know what Winchester? You can take all your opinions and shove them right up your uptight ass!"

"The two of you don't get along at all. Odd given how you seem to get along with my fiancé." A bored voice says from somewhere behind you. "But it is a lot more entertaining than I thought it was going to be."

Dean and you both lock eyes and turn to look in the direction of the voice, but there's no one there.

"Um, did you hear-" Dean begins to ask.

"Yes I did." You reply clicking the safety off your pistol.

"Just checking."

"Though I will say, with the way today is going for you and if this is you having a psychotic break, I wouldn't be surprised that you're having auditory hallucinations."

"Shut up." Dean sighs.

"Hello?" You shout, looking around the empty auditorium for some answer, but it remains empty.

Dean snorts. "Now who's craz-"

"Hello?" The voice mocks in a nasally voice. "Wow you're pathetic. I don't understand what he sees in you."

"You call me pathetic, but you're the one hiding. So why don't you come out?" A chair from the front row plucks itself off the ground and hurls itself at your head. You duck and it sails into the aisle behind Dean and you.

"You're not even that pretty." The voice continues and you can imagine a pout on the end of its words like a petulant child who wishes to get their way.

This is so fucking weird.

"Thanks." You reply dryly. "I like to think I've got a great personality."

"You don't." Dean mutters, making you throw an elbow into his side.

A high pitched giggle echoes through the space making it impossible to identify where it came from, until finally a woman materializes on the stage. You blink your eyes to make sure that she's really there.

Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in perfect ringlets, and she's wearing a bright pink fur trimmed dressing gown. The kind you'd see on an eccentric billionaire's trophy wife who spent most of her day drinking gin martinis poolside while being fanned by cabana boys or the kind that she'd be wearing when she heard of her husband's "untimely demise." There's a silver diamond crown perched on top of her head and she's smoking a cigarette from a long white cigarette holder, while she lounges back on a golden throne.

What. The. Fuck.

"Do you see her too?" You whisper to Dean out of the corner of your mouth.

"You mean Glinda the Good Witch the later years? Yeah I can." Dean replies looking just as confused as you do. "You thinking Gabriel?"

"I thought he was dead."

"He's pretended to be dead before." He shrugs.

"Fair enough. Any reason why he's making us see her?"

"Maybe your new boyfriend has a fetish."

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's rude to whisper?" The woman says, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Sorry. Um. Who are you?" You ask.

"I don't speak to homewreckers." Her face contorts into a sneer. You watch her eyes shift from Dean to you. "But I'll answer for your friend. I'm Iris, Benjamin's Fiancé."

If pigs could fly right now an entire fleet of them would be taking flight around you. You tried to wrack your brain remembering a single time that Ben said that he had a fiancé or was in a relationship at all, and you can't find a single moment.

Well… today officially sucks.

"Wow. Nice." Dean looks at you with a scoff. "Real nice."

"Hey woah, I didn't know he had a fiancé." You hold up your free hand in surrender. "He never said anything about a-"

"Hey gorgeous. Did you find anything?" Ben says materializing behind Dean.

"You're engaged?" You shout.

"No?" Ben looks confused. "Who told you that?"

You point a thumb over your shoulder to Iris, who is still lounging on the stage completely in her element. She giggles and wiggles her fingers in a cute wave.

"Hey Benny Wenny, did you miss me?" Her lips curl up in a wide smile when she rises from the throne, her bright blue eyes crinkling around the edges. The air around her seems to sparkle, sending scattered light out into the broken seats.

Ben is still staring up at the woman, looking utterly confused.

"You know that freak?" Dean whispers to Ben who is now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Fuck no."

"Well, congratulations Benny Wenny." Dean snorts. "Guess you're getting married."

"I am not-"

"And don't worry, of course I'll be your best man." Dean continues, holding back laughter.

"Shut the fuck up kid!" Ben snaps at Dean, before turning back to the woman on the stage. "Look baby, I don't know who you are but-" Ben begins to say to the woman, who only laughs.

She throws back her head, golden curls bouncing with the force of her body moving, laughing for an unnatural amount of time before she locks her blue eyes on Ben again.

“Stop being silly. We met a few months ago at Legend’s party. We had a few drinks and then you came back to my apartment where we made love for hours-“ Her cheeks blush. “It was sooooo romantic. What I always dreamed about!”

“Um-“

“My parents are so excited to meet you and my little sister said that she’s so happy to have a big brother!” She giggles. “I even made us matching t-shirts to wear on our honeymoon and a scrap book of our children!" She holds up a magenta colored bedazzled photo album that’s the size of a medium sized dog.

Wow she put a lot of work into that.

“Children?” Ben stutters, his voice cracking on the end a little bit. It's the first time that you've ever seen him look afraid.

“What they’ll look like, where we’ll vacation each year, where we'll live, where you'll work-” Her expression turns sour, eyes flashing a dark pink as she glares in your direction. “But then you met that little whore who took you away from me and poisoned your mind.” She points a perfectly manicured pink nail at you. “So I decided to bring you here so you could help me kill her.”

“I’m sorry rewind-“ You say holding up a hand. ���You brought Ben here? How?"

"I found a website while I was looking at destination weddings." She shrugs.

"There are websites about traveling through different universes that show up in the search engine-" Dean begins to say.

"DON'T QUESTION ME!" The girl shrieks and the entire room begins to shake.

"And you wanted Ben to be here because?" You haven’t lowered your gun. Frankly you had no idea what her powers were. She looked more like she would start tap dancing down the yellow brick road rather than start hurling chunks of the stage at you, but you needed a plan.

“Because we’ll get to share this moment together.” Iris sighs looking over at Ben again, who is just as shell-shocked as he was a moment ago.

“Killing me?”

Iris nods enthusiastically. “We'll make love on top of your dead body and no one will come between us ever again!” 

Dean snorts under his breath and you elbow him again, trying not to think of the image.

Please let this be Gabriel messing around with me. Because if it's not my life is officially a joke.

The three of you stand there for a minute looking up at where she prances on the stage in mixed stages of disbelief.

And just as Iris takes a step forward, a sandbag falls on her head. She crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Sam appears in the wings of the stage looking from her to where the three of you are watching.

"You guys okay?" He calls.

"Yeah." Ben shrugs. "Too bad about her though. She was hot."

He's kidding right?

"The crazies always are." Dean adds with a sigh, patting him on the back.

"I'm so happy the two of you are having this bonding moment, truly I am, but-" You begin to say, turning your back to the stage, but as soon as you do Sam goes flying across the room and into one of the fern plants.

"That was so uncool!" Iris squeals, hovering over the stage, her hands glowing an unnatural magenta color. "Ben and I are meant to be together, we're soulmates, perfect, fated, destined, and no one is going to stand in my way."

The entire room begins to tremble with the force of her anger, dust floats down from the ceiling as it begins to crack and crumble under her powers. You can feel the warmth of Ben's skin as he begins to power up the beam in his chest, burning through the air like a supernova.

There's a crackling sound that comes from above and you look up to see a giant piece of the ceiling falling in slow motion towards your body. Dean shouts your name, but he sounds far away, the sound ringing through the few seconds that you still have left before it crushes you.

But the hit doesn't come from above, it comes from the side.

Dean tackles you, just as the piano sized piece hits the ground where you had been standing a second ago, to the ground, cradling your head in his hands. Your bodies tumble into the moth eaten carpets as Ben explodes, the heat and power of the beam causing more of the room to fall around the two of you.

There's a terrible high pitched wail that's cut off abruptly mid scream and you don't need to be a genius to know what or rather who it was.

Dean covers your body with his and your hands come up under his arms to hold him tighter to you. You bury your face into the warmth of his coat where his throat and his shoulder meet with a whimper as everything around the two of you shudders and shakes. He doesn't pull away, his muscles tensing as he tightens his grip around you, his own face buried in your hair.

The room continues to shake and fall apart in the aftermath of the blast, dust and ash rising in clouds. But you can’t see any of it, Dean's body is shielding you from the room as it crumbles around the two of you, tucking you further beneath him the longer it goes on, making it impossible for anyone or anything to hurt you.

You could feel something curling in the pit of your stomach the longer you laid there under him, an odd feeling that you'd tried to push down whenever you were around Dean, a warmth that begins to spread like wildfire through your body everywhere the two of you are touching. His body is warm and heavy, but it's not oppressive, it lays over you protective and unyielding in the wake of the destruction.

The smell of him invades your senses, a mix of gunmetal, leather, and a spicy scent that tickled your nose. You'd smelled Dean's shampoo before, when it wafted out of the bathroom as you walked down the hallway, imprinting itself in your mind. It was how the impala smelled, always like Dean, and with it brought a feeling of comfort that you'd never known before.

It was odd.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispers, and you can feel the rumble of his words through his chest where it's touching you, his hips laying in the cradle of your thighs. He pulls back to look at your face, the rough grate of his stubble catching your chin as he does so. His eyes are wide with worry and it's the first time that you'd ever seen him look at you that way.

Dust and ash caught in his hair in graying clumps, sticking to the shortened brownish gold strands, the ones that were just a little shorter than Ben's. You longed to run your fingers through, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

"I think so." You murmur, not used to the weight of his body on top of yours, but you're also trying not to notice how a part of you liked it. "Are you okay?" Your fingertips trail against the smooth leather of his jacket, working up to the back of his head, feeling just the subtle brush of the hair at the nape of his neck.

You don't miss the soft sigh that rushes out of Dean's chest when you do that, fueling the fire that was spreading in the pit of your stomach.

What is happening?

"Yeah." Dean's fingers brush your hair from your face, so quickly that you think you missed it, but the burn of his skin over your cheeks is the only reminder. You gasp softly with the movement, confused as to why Dean was acting this way, why he was worried about you, and why you liked it. Your arms are still wrapped around his body, fingers curled into the back of his leather jacket, but Dean makes no move to get up, he continues to look at you.

You'd never seen Dean look at you like that, look at you as if he wished to understand you, as if he saw you. No one had ever looked at you that way in your entire life.

"Dean!" You hear Sam yell from somewhere, followed by your own name.

It jolts Dean out of wherever his mind is and he gets off of you, but he helps you to your feet, one of his warm calloused hands taking yours to pull you up before dropping it as if he didn't do it in the first place.

The room is destroyed. The roof has completely caved in allowing the rain to soak through the remaining seats of the auditorium and into the musty carpets. The stage no longer exists, all that remains is a black blob of what you're sure used to be Iris, and although a part of you feels bad about the turn of events, you can't help but feel a little relieved.

She was going to kill me. You think to avoid the wave of guilt that washes over you.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." Dean mutters under his breath, but it doesn't make you feel better.

Fires burn over the edges of the stage, small and controlled, but sending rivulets of smoke into the air. You knew it meant that the fire department would be here any minute and that's the last thing you wanted to explain. That and the body on the stage.

Ben stumbles to his feet a few steps away from Dean and you, pushing off a piece of roofing that must have landed on top of him. His suit is covered in dust and drywall, but he looks okay. He's got that far-away look in his eye he always does after he uses his power.

You step towards him to make sure he's okay, but Dean stands in your way.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean snarls at Ben.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ben snaps.

"You almost killed us! Almost killed her!" Dean gestures towards you.

"I fixed the problem." Ben rolls his eyes and glances to you, as if trying to reassure himself that you're okay. You knew that Ben might have wanted to only have a physical relationship with you, but you knew that he did care about you in his own way. "You okay sweetheart?" He pushes past Dean, gently touching your face, tilting it up to his. "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay." You smile tightly at him, but a part of you can still feel the ghost of Dean's fingertips trailing against your cheeks to push away your hair and feel the weight of his body over yours. "Are you okay?" You ask, noting the way his eyes still are a little unfocused.

"Course I am." Ben scoffs. "Takes a little more than a building to bring me down doll."

You nod, while Ben's hand still continues to rest on your chin, and just as he leans down for a kiss, you see Dean's face in the corner of your eye and finally you're able to identify the emotion reflected in his gaze. It's the same emotion that you saw in the car when he stared at you in the rearview mirror. It's the first time that you've ever seen Dean look at you that way in all the years you'd known him.

It's hurt that flashes behind the green eyes you knew so well, shifting to jealousy on around the darkened edges the longer he looks at Ben and you.

And when Ben's lips touch yours, you feel guilt begin to creep along your skin and extinguish the sparks you'd felt moments ago in the pit of your stomach.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I did not mean for this part to be a little sad... but oh my word 😭 BUT I also promise that the next chapter will have a happy ending ❤️

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for Part 3 please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

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@lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed @justwhisperingfantasies

@lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@bitchykittenconnoisseur

[skunkes]

i loooove when ocs unrealized development makes them feel like real people like no i dont know whether talon is genuinely attracted to women after years of both clinging to them for safety and years of putting them onto that untouchable idealized Perfect Protector Pedestal that must remain untainted by any bad experiences, so he doesn't even try to Be With any. He doesn't know either

[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty thoughts - seungcheol •

seungcheol is a patient person - he knows you are trying to goad him into doing something and he doesn’t like it

the library is normally seungcheol’s sanctuary - it’s quiet - none of his roommates seem to know it exists - it’s his space

his only problem is you showing up and invading his space

there is literally every other place to sit, but do you sit in one of these other places? no. no, you sit directly across from him

even with a divider, he can hear every little sound you make

all the little sighs and random giggles are one thing, but when your foot bumps his repeatedly - he is sure he’s going to lose his fucking mind because why don’t you seem to know you’re annoying

in fact, he’s certain you’re the least self aware person to exist - personal space, what’s that for you anyway

but this is too much!

he’s had a rough day - back-to-back difficult classes - he’s gotten a snack and he just wants to stare at his computer and play games for like an hour without being bothered

but you are in his seat - you and your hair that smells really good (he had a class with you last semester, even sitting behind you was kind of annoying, but the impossible-to-name scent of your shampoo was something he did actually like)

he thinks of sitting elsewhere - but no, this is personal because you have to know what you’re doing

he approaches, huffy and pouty

he sees your screen and pauses - of course you’re playing the same game, but you still took his seat

when he taps your shoulder, you yelp and look back, face flushed

“what?!” your eyes are huge

he rolls his eyes, “you’re in my seat,” isn’t it obvious, he wants to add

you glance around and seem to realize, “oh - aren’t they all the same?”

he stares in disbelief, “no, they aren’t,” his voice is sharp

you sigh, “okay, princess, have your seat then,” you huff as you get up and collect your things

he doesn’t care for the remark, or the way it sticks in his brain like an earwig because really ‘princess’ was uncalled for

and when he happens to see you out the following night, you actually stop to talk to him

you smile cutely, “so princess, how’s the gameplay for you?”

he glares, he knows you just want to fluster him, “it’s fine,” he says coolly

but you’re not finished, you keep asking him questions - what kind of gameplay does he like - is he part of a guild

it’s only after you leave to get a drink that he realizes how long you’ve been talking to him - he wonders if you’ll come back or not

when you do reappear, you seem to be walking towards him, but you stop when another guy approaches

he decides he should go home anyway and starts to leave, tossing his cup in the bin as he heads for the door

he’s surprised when he feels someone pinch his ass and whips around

you’re standing there, staring, “who said you could leave? we haven’t even swapped game ids,” you pout

“did you just grab my ass?”

you nod, “yeah, it’s just so,” you sigh, “i just want to touch it, okay?”

he flushes slightly, “you have no understanding of personal space,” he tried to sound like he had some high ground to stand on

you laugh, “says the guy who played with my hair when he sat behind me!”

it was like he had been slapped, “that”— “i never!” he fumbled his reply

you are suddenly very close, “yes, you definitely did and i didn’t say anything because i thought it was kind of cute,” your lips brush his cheek

he swallows roughly, his mouth feeling dry

he feels your hand on his, the way you guide his hand between both of your bodies, then lower, he feels your hip, your low stomach - you keep pressing his hand lower, until his hand is between your legs, feeling the thin fabric of your shorts

he glances around quickly, sure that someone will see

“everyone is busy, princess, don’t look so worried,” he feels your hips press closer to his

he knows you absolutely don’t care that you’re surrounded by other people

he reflexively squeezes you, hearing your soft moan close to his ear, “play with me,” you whisper

“here?” he tries to sound confident, not insanely worried

“mhmm,” you hum as you kiss his neck, “make me come,” you whisper before softly nipping at his ear lobe

“can’t we go to the bathroom or something?” he tries again, hoping for a modicum of privacy

you sigh, “you’re such a worrier,” even as you pull away and head for the bathroom

once inside, you pull him close - the heat between you returning quickly

with a door between you and the rest of humanity, he was quick to unbutton your shorts and let them slide down her thighs, he marvels at your barely there panties and how wet they are

he pushes them to the side, working his fingers into you without a thought, and when you’re quiet, he’s almost disappointed

“this is when your quiet?” he needles

you smile and kiss him, “i can be quiet in the library too,” you quip

he’s surprised when you come quickly, he watches your cum dripping down to the bathroom floor - he’s amazed he got you off so well

he plays with your pussy idly, “that’s what i want to see you do in the library, leave a puddle under the desk,” he pushes his fingers back in - he’s sure your pussy basically sucks him in

you grin, “hmm, and here i was imagining sitting under the desk with your cock in my mouth,” you moan softly against his skin

he shrugs, working his fingers deeper, “it’s not like they’re mutually exclusive,” he reasons

you giggle, “fuck, stretch me more, princess - get me ready for your cock,” you mumble

he wonders if this has been your goal all along, but really who is he to question your motivation when you’re so wet and needy

[usernameforaboredcat]

OPLA “Ruined” Sanji And There’s No Fixing It

Look, Ik the title says a lot BUT this needs to be said, because I’m tired of acting like this isn’t a problem that’s been on my mind since the first season dropped

Omfg another essay about Sanji? YES SHUT UP!!

Now before some of y’all come at me, I love Sanji, okay? I love my handsome goofy ah Jiji just as much as any other fan girl of this slutty waist idiot.

But in the One Piece Live Action there’s two things they happen that make me think that they don’t really care or know how to write Sanji as well as Oda and some fan fic girlies.

Now I know two isn’t a lot to say that he’s been “ruined” but like…hear me out.

Sanji & Nami

As much Sanji may flirt with various different women throughout the series, it’s obvious that he has his main girl, that being our lovely navigator Nami.

First tiny nit pick, in the anime Sanji first noticed her because of her laugh. In the live action it was a sarcastic joke. Something like that just doesn’t sit right with me, I don’t know why.

My MAIN problem is…they don’t talk. In the anime Nami and Sanji has a few one on one conversations along with responding to each other and talking to each other, spending a fair amount of time together to at least get a general idea of each other’s personalities, especially Sanji himself.

But in the live action…THEY TALK ONCE! ONCE!! WHEN THEY FIRST MEET AND WHEN NAMI IS RUNNING TO ZORO AND USOPP OUTSIDE ARLONG PARK AND SANJI HAS HIS ARMS OUT CALLING “NAMI! 😃” LIKE A CHUMP!

SHE DOESNT KNOW HIM!

Nami abandoned the only friends she was able to make to keep them safe (Luffy, Usopp & Zoro) and upon them coming to help her and Luffy take down the reason for her trauma, some guy she’s talked to literally once is the most excited to see her? No shit she ran straight past Sanji to hug Zoro and Usopp SHE DOESNT KNOW SANJ!

Yes they’ve been in the same room as each other, like Nami standing off to the side while Luffy and Sanji are talking, or Nami and Zoro talking with Sanji standing off to the side, but not directly. They couldn’t add in them talking at least once? Nami had more chemistry with Luffy, Usopp, and especially Zoro than she did with Sanji.

I really hope they have more one on one moments next season, cause so far it’s making Sanji REALLY creepy.

And now…

The worst offender

Sanji & Zeff

Done terribly.

You wanna know WHY I say this?

Compare anime Sanji leaving Zeff vs Live Action Sanji leaving Zeff.

Anime Sanji got on his hands and knees, face down ass up, bowed to Zeff and thanked him for taking care of him and putting up with him. And in Asian culture, how low you bow shows how much you truly respect that person. A very cute, heartfelt scene in my opinion.

Live Action Sanji? Got into an argument with Zeff and stormed off and joined Luffy…

Bro…

BRO!!

FOR REAL?!

They went out of their way to have a cute little moment where Sanji and Luffy bonded in the fact that “my father figure loose a limb to save my life” but couldn’t give Sanji and Zeff a proper goodbye.

Why does this matter?

Because you expect me to believe the same man who stormed off over an argument to be a pirate is the same guy who will “eventually” abandon the Straw Hats to go be with his abusive birth family and marry a women he’s never met?

Live Action Sanji could never.

He’d think that Zeff can handle himself or Germa/Big Mom Pirates won’t find them (I’m not definitely saying this I’m just saying something along those lines)

I just don’t see Live Action Sanji making that type of sacrifice.

Personally I don’t think the Live Action will even make it to WholeCake, I can explain on a different post why I think the Live Action will only make it to maybe Enies Lobby, but this post isn’t about that.

Look, I know that there are parts in the LA where Sanji does SAY he’s grateful for what Zeff has done for him, but I’m a big far of the “Show Don’t Tell” method.

Do I think there IS a way to fix this? At the moment, I’m not sure. It’s super easy for them to fix Nami and Sanjis relationship because they’re main characters and crew mates, but Sanji and Zeffs relationship is gone and dusted and won’t even BE relevant till technically Zou, where Sanji makes the choice to leave the Straw Hats to keep them AND Zeff and the others at the Baratie safe.

From behind the scenes footage for Season 2 they did show that they’ll be adding the Anime filler cooking contest that Sanji enters, MAYBE he could have flashbacks? The prize is an Elephant Tuna, a fish Sanji is seen cooking with in the first season, it’s the dish Zeff makes him throw out that Luffy ends up eating. Maybe Sanji could have a flashback to when Zeff is teaching him how to prepare it cause it’s one of those fish that needs special prep, and Sanji smiles to himself and mutters a “thank you Zeff” under his breath or something.

Just something small to show that he’s grateful, it’s all I ask.

Conclusion

I don’t know.

Personally, if I had to rank all the LA Straw Hats in a tier list based on how they are compared to their Anime selves, Sanji would be at the bottom of the tier.

But personally, none of them are really that high for me. (Maybe it’s because I just love the Anime so much and the Live Action no matter how hard they try will be perfect)

That’s all I have to say.

If you agree or disagree, tell the comments, I won’t argue back, I just wanna state how I feel. OR you can tell me that I’m an idiot and they can fix it or that I misread the scenes.

I know during Sanjis introduction period they had a lot going on with the Navy subplot, Mihawks introduction, Namis betrayal, Zoros fight against Mihawk, and a lot of other things.

All I ask for is one minute of screen time where Sanji gives a proper goodbye and thank you to Zeff, the absolute goat.

See ya, love y’all.

[madfishmonger]

I found a number for a line you could call and "learn more" about how heavy metal music and D&D were causing you to sin or however it was worded, and I ended up calling them. Mostly because I was so curious as to what their angle was. The guy on the other end kept insisting things like "When you cast a spell in D&D you're doing it for real". I tried to explain that the process for casting a spell in D&D was to say you were casting it, read out the effects of the spell, and roll a dice. If this was summoning demons and casting real magic, how had I and my friends, who'd been gaming for at least 5 years by this point, had never actually seen a demon or magic or any proof or evidence at all that this could be true. I say "I'm rolling fireball, that does 8d6 fire damage" and I roll some dice. Where is the "real" spellcasting happening? "You're casting a spell in real life." "But HOW? I literally say and do the same thing I just did now to you, and nothing happened." "You're casting a spell in real life."

The thing that struck me by the end of the call was that no matter how I tried to explain or changed angles to get him to understand what was happening, he kept repeating the same phrases. Not just saying the same things, literally verbatim the same responses. He didn't understand what I was trying to explain to him and he didn't want to. He had his collection of ten stock responses to everything and that was that. Did those stock responses make sense? No. Did he even appear to actually understand what he was saying? No (as he couldn't explain in his own words what he meant, I tried). Did that matter? No. He had answers, he could feel morally superior to anyone who didn't believe his answers, and that was all he apparently needed.

LOL. So, I thought I had all the major anti-D&D religious tracts that floated around from the ‘70s through the ‘90s (with the exception of the original Pat Pulling pamphlet, which seems vanishingly rare), but then Ed Park showed me A Christian Response to Dungeons and Dragons (1987). The subtitle is “The Catechism of the New Age,” which, I wish, and then on the back the hype copy is titled, “They want our children. They want our future.” Which may as well be the tag line for like, a Body Snatchers movie.

I have to say, if I saw this in ‘87, it might have made me nervous. While ultimately the authors seem somewhat exhausted, there is some rigor in the argument here, ten years or so into the panic, that is perhaps a little troubling. They seem aware of RPGs beyond D&D, for one, and have a working knowledge of how to play, a major flaw in most other tracts of this kind. They also lack the shrill panic of Pulling. But for all their attempts to better package their concern, before long they eventually claim that D&D in a primer for occult practice, which is a deeply stupid thing to say.

I find this stuff fascinating because it displays such a profound lack of imagination. By design — the authors actually argue that the imagination encouraged by RPGs puts us in the roles of those who would rebel against God. “Since Descartes, modern man has retreated from the bright light of God’s creation into the dark world of his own mind and imagination,” they say.

I hope it drives them nuts at how completely they lost the argument.

[banana-can-do-art]

Guys I just finished the well it’s not the entirety of Riddle’s dream there’s still like an hour and a half that hasn’t been translated on Gasmask’s channel but I finished the part that they did translate and omg heeelp this is the best dream yet. This is so sad omg I have to ramble about it also all translations I’m using are from gas mask on YouTube.

First of all omg he’s so happy it’s making me sad. Also him saying that he would be tired of everything being the same all the time right after I made that post rambling about how his implied OCD causes him to always do everything in a “samey” manner I aaaaagghhhh. And he’s saying that he’s going to have a chaotic band because in his dream he isn’t upset when things aren’t in order and he can just let himself be happy. You can’t do this to meeee! But there’s more!

Look he’s happily breaking the rules and feeling no anxiety about it whatsoever. (OCD be gone). In his dream world he can do what he wants with no terrible parents or mental illness holding him back. Look at him he’s adorable. And then we have this though agghhh.

This is so sad! When Ace and everyone tells him about what he’s like in real life as though they are talking about another person, Riddle immediately hates the person they are describing. Because he doesn’t like who he is irl. In fact, Riddle even says here that he hates school and studying and that it makes people miss out on the fun things in life. It’s so sad because who he actually is irl is the complete opposite of what he wants to be. He’s so isolated and self loathing I can’t.

Also in the dream Riddle isn’t even a mage. Because he doesn’t even actually like doing magic because all of the joy was sapped out of that for him because he’s always expected to do it perfectly. He never just gets to do magic because he wants to or because it’s fun but rather only because others expect and pressure him too. It feels like the idea of a hobby losing its charm and fun when people have to make it into their jobs. (I hope that doesn’t happen to me heeeelp)

Also I felt so bad for Trey during this because he knows the most about Riddle’s reality and he is the entrenched in it himself. Riddle’s mom screamed at him for five hours as a child and he’s scarred from everything that happened with Riddle and his mom as a kid and yet now he’s supposed to just walk into Riddle’s house like nothing’s wrong. That must be so jarring and unsettling. Props to Trey for managing to do that honestly that’s freaking terrifying.

Also I can’t with all of those pictures on the wall. What do you mean he hates his real life so much that in his dreams his entire memory has become fabricated. His real life memories are completely different from his dream memories. And what do you mean that in his dream his parents are together and they love him and neither of them are mages and he just lives a happy and normal life?! What do you mean?!

Also, even though his parents love him in the dream, his mom has been so awful to him irl that even though everything is fake he can’t even actually picture her face saying nice things to him so it’s just the house talking to him. That’s so awful!

Also then we get this whole reference to the scene in Alice in wonderland where Alice has the big tears and people are drowning. Except it’s tea this time lol. Also Riddle crying that he wants to get out of the house is so sad even in his dreams he can’t escape agshdjdjdj. Omg Cater is so funny in the drowning scene though, he’s just like stop crying we’re gonna drown lmao. Also I know Chenya is fake but it is still so unbelievably funny how he is literally drowning in tea and yet he just has this huge smirk on his face the whole time lol. Chenya’s so silly.

Also the house became so creepy omg I saw someone saying it looks like an rpg maker horror game and like it really does! Specifically I think it really looks like Sunny’s house during the truth sequence of Omori.

Speaking of rpg maker horror games, Malleus was really channeling his inner rpg maker horror villain this update. Poor Idia lol. My condolences to Idia, he’s become the main character of an rpg maker horror game. I dunno Idia if we are going for Omori parallels then maybe you should open that door.

And then later when he gets pulled deeper the dream reflects false desires. To have control over the dorm while everyone bows down to him is was he thinks he wants but not his actual true desire. That’s why in the second layer of his dream even though he is in power, he still seems miserable because we know that he doesn’t even want to be a mage in the first place, much less have all of these rules.

And then Chenya pushes him over and he gets tangled in his cape lmao. That was so funny and then the screen is just Riddle with his feet in the air lmao. That outfit is not conducive to getting up from a fall.

But omg when the darkness is telling him that in the dream they respect him while irl he is isolated it’s so sad. Because he knows that irl his rules and strictness (and OCD) isolate him and that’s why it’s so difficult for him to make friends. He understands that he is lonely because he is a control freak like this, and yet it’s the only thing that he knows how to do because it’s all he’s been taught. (And also because he’s mentally ill you see).

This is all so sad I can’t. Twst! How could you do this to me?!

Anyway, in conclusion punk band Riddle is the most amazing thing to ever grace my eyeballs just look at him. We need a Riddle vocaloid band rhythm game spinoff immediately actually. Also his new fit is absolutely slaying look at him go!

Now I must wait in agony for the next hour and a half or so to be translated by the great and amazing fandom hero, gasmask.

[graceofgondor]

since a couple of you (@nectarinesinthesun444 @perksofbeingpoet) asked, I figured it was worth posting

my dps ✨️hot takes✨️

disclaimer bc people get mad: these are just my opinions, if you disagree, that's okay!! people are allowed to coexist with different opinions. this is a post for friendly discussion only. please don't start discourse or block me just bc you disagree, I enjoy the fact that we all interpret this media in our own way. thank you.

alot of people flat out don't understand charlie as a character and mischaracterize him as a result. (hint: if you see him as just the funny one you need to watch the movie again)

I dislike movie knox just about as much as book knox. he's still entitled and selfish, and I don't think he deserved redemption. (I simply cannot see him in a fanon lens, I just don't like him)

I do however, wish he was written better. In that his character became all about chris, and less about his friends, which lost his character a bit, because occasionally I do see the potential.

while i like her more... i dislike chris. I obviously feel bad for what happened to her, but she is kind of a shitty friend if you think about it. she was constantly ditching ginny for boys (ergo: why i don't ship them) and quite literally cheated on her boyfriend, who was in fact, her friends brother.

relating to that, chet may be a meathead asshole just in general, but he did absolutely nothing wrong when it came to knox and that is a hill i will DIE on.

oh!! hey!! we shouldn't joke about the paddling scene!! literally ever!!!

the "except sex" line is taken way too far. it's not (canonically) gay. boys joke about sex. let's move on.

relating to that... i don't fault anyone for shipping anything legal—but some ships simply have no evidence in canon. (knarlie, chrisginny) and I'm absolutely terrified to say that... but it's true

in that same vein, many people mistake charlie's disapproval toward knox's methods with chris (especially the phone call scene) as jealousy—when in reality, it's just that—disapproval. this is a bit of an inconsistency issue, because this was much more evident in the book/original script—that charlie tended to push knox around a bit, especially about that, but regardless it's still disdain.

charlie isn't in love with everyone. he's just like that.

also— sexuality headcanons are also obviously fine. but if you say charlie is bi/gay/etc. ONLY (allow me to repeat—ONLY) because of his flamboyant tendencies, that is extremely stereotypical and rubs me so far the wrong way.

its okay to not like cameron for what he did. obviously he's not pure evil, but people are allowed to dislike a character for doing a bad thing. its not okay to be ignorant, but it is, in fact, okay to understand and still dislike a character.

already went over this kind of, but literally every poet (+the girls) gets mischaracterized and/or generalized on a large scale. like, why is half the fandom convinced pitts is braindead? and somehow, todd is incapacitated and has anxiety about everything?? I feel like the movie makes a point to say that these characters are nuanced and multifaceted, and yet they continue to be shoved into one box like two-dimensional high school archetypes.

[elbiotipo]

I'm trying to develop my worldbuilding but have run into a problem. I don't want to do what usual fantasy settings do where specific "races" have very specific personality and cultural traits, so I'm trying to make a setting with different anthropomorphic "races" coexisting to different extents. The problem is, anytime I question myself on how somehow could've happened or how the different species ended up in their current sociopolitical climate, I don't know when to stop. If it were for me, I'd go as far back as the discovery of fire. How do you know when to stop?

Ideally you never stop, but I understand that sometimes you want to get on with a story. And that's another thing about worldbuilding, once you start creating a world different from Earth, you start asking yourself... well, why this world had the same evolution as Earth, wouldn't different geography result in different species? And then you go into speculative biology and speculative evolution and that's a rabbit hole you will never get out of. And more, you can say, why should this world have the same day length, year length, axial tilt, size as Earth... and THAT'S when you do worldbuilding for real, the worldbuilding never ends.

But here's a tip to make it easier. If you don't know something, if you don't know how to stop, you can always draw from real-life Earth. For example, let's say that you don't want to do the entire evolution of life. You have a cheat sheet; you can use the Biogeographic Realms, and mix and match fauna and flora, and you can assume evolution took a relatively Earth-like turn since your world's continents formed. You have all the life you would expect from regular Earth, and you add your own twists as needed.

For example, in one project, I wanted a Southern hemisphere vibe, so I created a world where the flora and fauna are Neotropical (South American) and Australasian, with some extinct creatures from those places, which is totally justifiable because many species can stay alive for a long time even extinct elsewhere. I just assumed that evolution followed roughly the same path there, which for a fantasy world with actual gods is more than fine.

If you are stuck in certain places on how to create your civilizations, you have literally all of human history and culture to draw from. If you don't know how civilizations in jungles develop, for example, it's time to learn about the Maya and wider Mesoamerica, Srivijaya and Majapahit, the kingdoms of Western Africa like Dahomey, Benin, Oyo, the cultures of the Amazon... Every place in this planet is full of vibrant history, culture and solutions to problems that make for great worldbuilding. You have to be careful about taking inspirations from real life cultures, but it's better that you learn about them rather than not doing research at all!

This is why I insist that people learn about real-life geography and history. Not because CINEMASINS DING, but because once you do, worldbuilding becomes easy and fun. Once you learn the rules about how the real world works, you can twist them and break them as you wish.

[cinemaocd]

I literally have a whole post in my drafts about voting for Nadar in 2000 (while in MN which still went for Gore) and how I went against the advice of many boomer leftist friends who had voted for Eugene McCarthy in 68 because Wallace was such a vile candidate.

So yeah I voted for Nadar and Bush won and I was really defensive about it for months because I felt like Gore was the compromise candidate, anti-labor, anti-free speech and wishy washy on social issues I cared about as well.

George W Bush was vile to me because he was the son of another president and that is awfully like us not being a democracy and being an autocracy and also he was dumb as a box of rocks and his dad was instrumental in so much of the fuckery of the Reagan years.

Then 9-11 happened and things got so much worse and so much of the mess we are in now, is because of how everything just turned into writing a blank check for the deep state and militarized police and the peace dividend we were supposed to get at the end of the Cold War was gone, and oh yeah Russia had fallen back into totalitarianism because we didn't fucking do anything to fix it.

The progress made in the Middle East under Clinton started falling apart as well because Bush started two wars there, backed by the far right religious freaks in America who want to bring about the end of the world by starting a holy war.

So after that I stopped voting third party. I started actually trying to attend the Democratic primary in my area and work to have the kind of party we wanted. Both parties are not the same but they face many of the same problems (namely big money and corporate interests flooding the election and eating away like a cancer at any progressive or democratic reforms.)

The Republican Party has been the party of Nixon rather than Lincoln since before I was born (cheating is fine, lying is expected, rat fuck your enemies, use the deep state to expand your powers) and the Bush family merely added the Dynastic element and the complete lack of integrity about separating your personal wealth from politics. (Bush family literally oil millioniares when we were putting troops on the ground to fight for oil). Bush II's VP was Dick Cheney who was literally one of Nixon's ratfuckers! Trump doesn't even have the integrity that either of the Bushes had and that is really fucking saying something. He is merely for sale to the highest bidder. The entire Republican party has either decamped or capitulated to him and the remaining core is so rotten with corporate money and the interest of foreign dictators that it's not even an American political party anymore. It's a den of thieves.

I have no patience for leftists that looked at Kamala Harris, the most progressive candidate put forward by a major party in my voting lifetime (since 1988 bitches) and thought, no I'll sit this one out or wasted their vote on a third party no-shot protest candidate.

I'm sure you had your reasons, but shit is about to get a lot worse. We'll be lucky if you have the chance to right this mistake in future to be honest...

Trump voters owe me financial compensation.

[afro-elf]

I'm literally out of a job because of Trump so please tell me how both sides are the same I'm curious.

There isn't one single thing that would be worse if Harris had won. You can't elevate bs like community gardens and "ending neoliberalism" (wtf) over clean water, HIV medicine, and the planet not being on fire!

Literally putting bs academic concepts over human lives

community gardens are not academic concepts there's like three in my neighborhood fjjdhdjbd

i love that ending neoliberalism is like a crazy concept to you like both parties accepting the neoliberal pivot around the time of carter isn't what got the dems where they are now. also yes, the world is on fire! what are you going to do about it? are you going to scream at the people in power? are you going to make their lives hell the way they're doing to us? the election happened. no one won in the end. we have accelerated the us's slow descent into fash hysteria. i'm clearly not denying that. but how is bothering someone simply advocating for mutual aid changing any of that???? i don't fucking care about harris. i don't. she sat by and defended her boss's facilitation of a genocide and that's partially why she lost. she failed to engage low propensity voters and that's why she lost. she said she wouldn't do anything differently than Biden and that's why she lost. no i don't think things would've been "worse" under harris because nothing is worse than whatever all this is but if that's your base reference for good or bad policy, is it better worse than trump, you lack political imagination, comrade. the doggy bag is better than the radioactive pile of manure but it's still a fucking doggy bag leave me alone about it it's eagles superbowl week go birds

[jxdeblack]

Holy shit guys I got my first downloads for my harry potter dr 😭

(little backstory)

so Ive been at the hospital since 9pm because my girlfriend wasnt feeling well and they had us waiting in the ER for TEN fucking hours yall t. e. n. but whatever anyways so we got out at 7 am THE NEXT DAY😐 so I was tired asf on the way back home and I had a little bit of the greens if you know what I mean and I just asked myself how I felt about shifting and LET ME TELL YOU the Flow came immediately I just started talking and taking what came without thinking and I was like “I know I can shift” And that felt so true to me it made me literally so happy then I just was like im liking this flow so maybe I should try to meditate on my dr and Ive never really been able to actually meditate and really feel like im in my dr but man I WAS THERE IDC LIKE THE FLOW WAS CRAZY LIKE MAN I FELT IT ALL AND THATS LIKE MAN I LOVED IT

OKAY SO HOPEFULLY I CAN REMEMBER EVERYTHING BECAUSE IT WAS QUITE A BIT

okay first thing I was DEFINITELY sorted into the wrong house 😭 based on my personality, I definitely belong in Slytherin, which not surprised, but I wouldn’t give up being Gryffindor for the world (thats my family fr!)

next I got a download about my twin brother Jay!!! Bro literally runs the Slytherin common room along with Draco and Blaise like😭 and he’s so protective over me anytime the Slytherin password changes he tells me just in case I need to get to him if something were to happen and nobody ever says anything about me being in the common room (not to my face at least🙄) bc of the boys😭 like yes yall do your jobbb!! Protect your sister and cousin tf!

I also got a download on how I felt about my dad (Sirius) breaking out and basically just my whole feelings towards the situation as of now (when I shift) and I really have a Idgaf attitude about it i’m just trying to put the whole thing in the back of my mind and just focus (heavily) on my studies, making sure my spot on the quidditch team is still secured, and hanging out with my friends. My thought was I haven’t seen that man since I was 6 so it really has nothing to do with me, which is valid(I actually do care a bit😭.)

I got a download of Nymphadora, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hagrid

For Nymph I just got a peak at how close we are I feel really connected to her because we are like sisters since we grow up in the same house and we are both metamorphagus

Harry is literally my ride or die bro like thats my bestfriend😭

Ron is a ride or die by default bc hes like a little brother to me😭

I LOVE NEVILLE SO MUCH HES MY BESTIE

for Hagrid I just was thinking of planning a trip with the trio to go visit him bc I missed Hargid

And lastly I got a download of my girlfriend and I and yall I am MEAN to everyone but I have the biggest soft spot for her like blaise and luna type beat like I have a soft spot for her now but its so so so much more intense in my dr 😭

Im sad I didnt get a update about Liliana and Mione 🥲