#okay actually this is too many goddamn characters to tag

[calico-strawberry]

Do you see my vision

From this post: https://www.tumblr.com/lemonade-juley/707984079269838848/still-collecting-the-full-alphabet-of-the-live?source=share

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Round 4 (2/4)

Propaganda under the cut!

BENNY

The first thing that happens in new vegas is that benny fucking shoots your character in the face, steals your shit and leaves you in an open grave. Benny is by all accounts a bastard. He kills you, steals from you, he killed his last boss, he is the single most duplicitous man around. His gang are all about honesty- except him. He's a lying, cheating bastard. The guys who helped him catch you? He skipped on paying them and left them to get shot to death. His new boss, mr.house? He stole his robot, broke it open, got someone to reprogram it and decided to use it to TAKE OVER THE WHOLE OF VEGAS. Benny literally kills people, lies to people, steals their shit and takes charge. That's all benny does. He gets fucking CRUCIFIED if you don't help him out just because so many people fucking hate him. And yet. And yet. Benny is the single most compelling character in the whole game to me. He's just a little guy! He's just there! You can get shot in the head and come back and he goes "what in the goddamn" and then if you try and flirt with him he's like "uhhh sure? Okay?" And leaves you a polite note in the morning. He's fancy. He wears a stupid suit. He has a tiny gun with shitty bullets. He's catholic. He talks like an old timey news presenter. Literally nobody else in the entire game does that. He's got an intelligence of 3. He's my funtime boy. My silly little man. He's so funny. The antagonist in this game is a guy dressed like a tablecloth who looks at all times like a confused dog who doesn't understand what a tv is. And like. He's compelling. He robs from you, shoots you, but…. he never seems to actually wish you harm. He kills and robs and lies but like. He apologises for doing it to you. When he sees you again he doesn't attack you, he's just… confused. He tries to defuse the situation. You can convince him to talk to you, alone, with no guards and it's not that hard. If you spare his life, he doesn't go after you, like. Even if you sleep with him he doesn't take advantage of that and kill you, even if you try to. He… he just leaves. He gives you an apology. If he gets kidnapped by Caesar He just… apologizes again. He tells you his whole plan to take over the city, too. He thinks he'll die, and he wants something of him to survive. He's happy that you made it. And if you let him free, he just… leaves. He knows he's beat, he doesn't want to cause any more trouble. He walks out and leaves. The NCR will kill you if you cross them. The legion will crucify you. House? He'll blow you the fuck up. But benny, the guy who lies and cheats and schemes, he's honest. He's polite. He's… harmless. You can kill him with a single shot if you want. And he can't kill you. He doesn't kill you the first time, and he'll never really hurt you again. Benny just wanted to win. When he knows he's beat he just leaves. No lingering, no harm, he's off, off into the desert heat, and never seen again. Isn't that just insane? like have you ever known an antagonist so polite? He just leaves!! He offers you a drink!! His plan is genuinely probably the best one for the people of new vegas!!! He's. Benny is Benny. Anyway if you want to see some REAL propaganda go to the blog letmebegaytodd and look in the #benny tag. You'll Understand < https://www.tumblr.com/letmebegaytodd/717051175751614464/in-another-life-i-wouldve-really-liked-just> <- look at this shit man

AZULA

Azula explicitly considers herself a monster. She says needlessly cruel things to her brother and friends. She kills the show's twelve-year-old protagonist and masterminds the idea of burning down the entire Earth Kingdom to force them to submit to Fire Nation rule. I have absolutely seen people get called abuse apologists for thinking she's a cool character. But she's also a (canonically) mentally ill fourteen-year-old who was raised by her father to see her ability to be weaponized as her only value. Her mother, arguably the only adult in her life who could have had a positive impact, had a strained relationship with her because she was more difficult than her brother, and then disappeared when she was nine. Her uncle, who was her brother's main healthy role model, took absolutely no interest in her. She watched her father belittle her brother for years and eventually throw him away when he failed to meet his expectations, so that was a threat she was always facing. She really had no chance. And she also has moments that suggest she wants some sort of meaningful connection with another person. She lets her brother take credit for killing the Avatar so he can come back from exile, even though it means she'll be bumped back in the order of succession and offers him advice that seems genuine. Her spiral into a mental breakdown starts when her friends betray her. She's just a much more interesting and multifaceted than a lot of the fandom gives her credit for.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Five-Finger Discount (Dean/Reader)

Title: Five-Finger Discount

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean x Female Reader

Summary: It's supposed to be a simple case. A little undercover. A little burglary. A little spell. Dash of salt and burn. No muss, no fuss. So, why the hell are you getting these uncontrollable thoughts about Dean's... hands?

Word Count: 10,300

Tags: Hand & Finger Kink, Dean Winchester is a Scoundrel, Dean gets a Manicure, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut of the Finger Variety, Dean Winchester Talks Dirty

Notes: Because Jensen just can’t keep his hands to himself. See notes on AO3 for the offender/crime in question.

A persistent tapping on your bedroom door awakens you. It could be late evening or early morning in the windowless bunker.

Before you can check your phone for the actual time, Dean’s voice calls your name from the other side of the door.

You groan. Whatever time it is, it’s not ‘wakey wakey eggs and bakey’ time. “What?”

“Got word from Sam. He’s figured out what’s been killing the inmates in NSP.”

You sit up and feel for the lamp switch. After a turn and snick , you mumble, “Let there be light.” Your voice raises in answer to Dean. “That’s great.”

“Well, not that great.” The conversation is still happening through the closed door. “Sam figures it’s a ghost of a prisoner that died behind bars in 1870.”

“Why not great? Did you want more of a challenge? Ghosts are a milk run.”

You can hear the dramatic sigh, picture the tilt back and forth of his head, and the way his mouth mimics either you or Sam when the sarcasm leans on the excessive. Which is kind of ironic coming from the King of Snark. “Can I come in? You decent?”

“Yes.”

It’s definitely the middle of the night when you get a look at him. Dean’s hair is mussed. There are cheek and chin creases from scuba pillow diving when he sleeps on his stomach. “You got something formal to wear?”

“Huh?”

“A gown, dress, something promish or wedding worthy?”

“Promish?” That question reply to his question earns you a broad stance with hands on hips like a superhero as Dean stares you down. You twirl both hands around to remind him of the non-existent storage space in the bunker. Which should not be a thing in such a huge fortress where men dressed in three piece suits on the daily. “Sure. I have a whole rack of them hanging in my walk-in closet.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, smart ass. Well, we’re gonna have to go do this thing in less than twenty-four hours that needs you in a dress and me in a tux.”

You suck in your lips and try not to laugh at how pissed Dean appears at the thought.

“It’s a charity fundraiser in Lincoln,” he continues. “We have to act like a couple of out-of-state spenders with deep pockets to get our hands on the Hand of Glory that belonged to this ghost.”

“What about Sam? I bet he’d look much better in a dress than I would.”

Dean shrugs. “He’s got the hair for it. But we can’t risk somebody making him.”

Of course. The one time Sam goes investigating on his own. He posed as an FBI agent and poked around too many people. 

You and Dean are going to have to go shopping. The all-out kind. Max out a stolen credit card at the mall kind.

Dean is gonna be miserable. You can’t wait. Grumpy Dean, for some reason, is very entertaining.

“How about you in the dress and me in the tux?” you offer.

“I don’t have the legs for it.” Dean shakes his head. “Get a few more hours of sleep. Gonna be a busy day.”

You’ve been around Sam and Dean for a long time. Long enough to have gotten a little numb and even blase regarding certain things.

The dangers of a hunt. The stench of death. The amount of blood a beheaded vamp body can ooze.

As you tick the tasks off for the heist with a trip to a dress shop earlier and currently helping Dean pick out a tux, another thing you’ve become indifferent to smacks you right in the goddamn face.

The hotness of the Winchester brothers.

You were talking with the owner of the suit store when Dean parted the curtains of the fitting booth he’d been in for five minutes.

And there it was, dressed to the nines, cutting a fine figure in a black tuxedo. 

The plain as day fact of how unfucking-believably gorgeous Dean Winchester is.

Stephen, well-dressed and highly animated, claps hands in front of his face. “Oh. Wow, that is, it’s like you stepped right off the cover of GQ magazine,” he gushes at Dean. “Turn around, turn around.”

Dean blushes, spins on his heels, and averts your and Stephen’s gaze. You’re glad because you can feel the warmth racing over your own cheeks.

“Sir, that is screaming perfection. I don’t even think it needs to be taken in. It’s like a second skin.” You’d think Stephen was buttering him up for a sale if he was overexaggerating. But, he wasn’t.

“Well, good, cause it’s not like we’ve got time for a tailor,” Dean huffs. Then, you hear, “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I-yeah-it’ll do.”

After Dean swipes the key card, he steps aside and lets you pass the threshold first.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

The suite is swanky. No motels for you on this trip. You’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.

Windows that meet the ceiling give you a sweet view of downtown Lincoln. It’s not the New York skyline, but everything looks impressive from a higher vantage.

Dean pushes the squeaky luggage cart. The door clicks closed solidly behind him. “Alright. We got a few hours to get ourselves presentable. Then we head on over to the Sheldon Museum of Art.” He hangs the garment bags containing his tux and your dress in the closet. The duffle bags each get a chuck onto the king-size bed.

You nod at the reminder. Sam will be at the fundraiser as well. Between the ruse of you and Dean as the wealthy Mitchums from Kansas and Sam’s Agent Dion, you’re confident the case will be resolved before another not-so-innocent victim dies. “Too bad we can’t really enjoy a stay at a place like this.”

“Eh, overpriced. I can’t wait to get home to the bunker. It’s a lot nicer.” He rolls the cart back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

He’s gone before you can quibble with Dean over your and his idea of luxury. But yours does have windows, excessive amounts of pillows, and room service.

Dean returns to find you’ve commandeered the entire vanity counter with makeup. He chuckles. “Never seen you put any of this crap on before. Do you even know how?”

“Asshole.” You thwack his tummy, but clenched stomach muscles anticipated the retaliation. “I’ll wear makeup for this case out of necessity. I don’t believe in going into debt to keep up with the latest beauty trend. This stuff costs a fortune.”

Dean picks up a packet of press-on nails and looks at the price tag. “Well, hopefully, it’s all worth it.”

As Dean inspects your haul, you notice the dirt under his own nails. “Your hands,” you state.

“Huh?” Dean’s brow furrows. He puts down the box and stares at his fingers.

“Those aren’t the hands of a millionaire.”

He smiles. “I’ve got a great rags to riches story I can use. You see, one day I was shootin’ at some food, and up for the ground came a bubblin’...”

“Ooor, you can look the part.” You cut off his recounting of how the Beverly Hillbillies came to be and sweep a hand in his direction. “Hurry up and shower. I’ll do your nails.”

His eyes bug out. “Do my nails?”

“Relax. Just gonna tidy them up. No polish. Although there’s nothing wrong with a little color on a guy’s nails. But maybe not for this event. We don’t need you to stand out too much.” You think about how he looked in that tux and realize how much he will stand out already at least in your mind. He’s still blinking at you, processing what’s about to happen. “Well, hurry up, Jeb. That oil ain’t gonna find itself.”

You gulp at the sight of a freshly scrubbed, washed, towel-dried Dean. It shouldn’t be affecting you like this. You’ve seen him just out of a shower with his white t-shirt and sweatpants when you’ve been hunting on the road.

Maybe it’s the change of scenery. No motel. No mildew smells. No obnoxiously loud wallpaper to mask the soot and stains. No revving engines or wheels peeling right outside the door. None of the things that usually overwhelm and distract your senses.

His entire face is scrunched up in confused awe. Tools are neatly lined atop a towel on the small island by the kitchenette. Not the usual gun-cleaning ones, though. You clear your throat and pat the breakfast stool beside your seated frame.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asks.

“Just a little detailing is all.”

He sits and eyes you warily.

A gimme gesture requests his left hand. He provides it, resting his fingers over the bridge of support yours creates. You try not to flinch in surprise at the warmth and weight. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before. But, you’ve never had the opportunity for contact to linger.

You lean down and in, lifting his fingers in inspection and deciding your plan of attack. Damn. They’re, well, you wonder how you haven’t noticed how big they are. His entire hand dwarfs yours in comparison. Dean’s a big dude. He is not as tall as Sam, but considering they’re both over six feet, you shouldn’t be surprised that his digits are substantial. You picture Sam’s hands in your mind’s eye in the usual situations. Tapping away on a keyboard. Flipping through their dad’s journal pages or some gigantic volume of lore in the bunker. Those fingers are long, but their slender and taut, proportionate to Sam’s body type and size. Jolly Green Giant size.

Dean’s? Well, it’s not that they don’t match Dean. They’re beefy, thick, and solid. All the things Dean is. But they’re more like a jumbo sausage sandwich than a hot dog that’s a little too big for the bun. Even the width of his palm seems way above average.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s question calls out and you wonder how long you’ve been staring at his freaking hands.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

You get to work, using a nail brush that’s been soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. A sturdy grip wraps around two of Dean’s fingers - it’s all you can comfortably manage - and the bristles scrub back and forth in quick passes.

Dean chortles. His fingers pull back slightly. The look on his face is one of surprise. You grin and ask, “Did that tickle?”

He snorts. “What? No. I’m not ticklish.”

“Mm-hmm.” You tug his fingers toward the brush. “Hold still then.” You continue the process. Dip the brush in the water bowl. Play Dean’s fingers like a washboard. And you delight in how his jaw clenches and body squirms. He does an adorable shimmy shake that starts at the shoulders and ends with an ass cha-cha. But you only let the torture go on for a minute or two. “Okay. Give them another wash. Then we’ll clip ‘em, file and buff, and these nails will scream private prep school and ivy league polo.”

He rises. “As long as there’s no more brushing.” He punctuates how serious he is about that with one of those fingers right at your mouth.

You swallow the urge to bite that finger.

For someone who was uncertain about the thought of a manicure earlier, Dean is back in a hurry to continue the process. You exaggeratedly shake the nail brush out of the soapy water bowl and softball it into the stainless steel sink a yard away. It clangs about like a noon bell. You raise both hands, “I’m unarmed.”

He snickers, “Not so sure.” He skirts his gaze over the remaining items. “Sharp and stabby things.”

“You have used clippers before. You’re not an actual Cro-Magnon that drags knuckles on the ground and runs nails along some flint.” You grab one stool and carry it to the other side of the island, settling into position for the next step. “Sit and stop acting like a baby.”

“Damn,” he murmurs, following orders and taking his seat from before.

“Hands,” you request.

He harrumphs and splays his fingers atop the terry towel, like a cat stretching and digging in with their claws. His hands are creamy colored and speckled pink from the washing and scrubbing. Ten digits tap along the cloth in wait. And you stare, longer than you should.

What in the holy hell is going on? They’re fingers for chrissakes. The same fingers you’ve seen on Dean all the time, day after day in the bunker or in the car or on a hunt. It’s not like he got a hand transplant or something.

“Come on, Madge.” Dean snaps two of those fingers together. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me I was soaking in it.”

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Softens hands while you do the dishes?” He adds to the dramatics and unhinges his jaw. “Come on, we’re the same age. You gotta remember that commercial? Palmolive?”

“Oh, right.” You feign recollection, inhale to steady yourself and grab his left hand. It’s down to business time. “I’ve only lost five of my last six clients. Nothing to worry about.”

“Quite the comedian,” he razzes back.

“I am. Apparently you could learn a thing or two from me. The first? A punchline isn’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“Yeah, well…” He begins.

“Maybe come at me with ‘your face is a punchline’?” you suggest.

His lids blink in confusion. “It’s not, though.”

For some reason that shuts you both up.

You spend the next minutes manipulating each of Dean’s fingers, one by one in your palm as you clip. Tick, tick, tick. You give the nails a nice straight edge and round out the sides. His nails are stumpy, boxy and twice the width of yours. His skin is calloused, toughened in the spots you expect. From the thousands of hours he’s gripped Baby’s steering wheel, handled a shotgun, cranked a wrench, slid into the trigger of his Colt. But they are soft in other spots. The patterns of lines criss crossing and connecting like a terrain map enthrall you.

He’s quiet. Watching you work. You’ve forgotten to be mouthy for this bit. It’s hard to focus on anything but this and his breathing. You’ve forgotten the basic steps of inhaling and exhaling.

It’s when you’ve moved on to filing that Dean remembers how to word. “You’re good at this.”

“I should be,” you croak out then clear your throat. “I did my older sister’s nails all the time growing up.”

“Hm, I guess Sammy didn’t get the little brother memo about doing my nails.”

I grin up at him. “Maybe you should have had him watch that Palmolive commercial.”

His laugh is soft. His eyes gleam with that hint of mischief he dons when there is no imminent threat. When life is as close to normal as possible. You wonder what it would be like to take those hands and place them around your waist. Guide him to hold you steady, secure.

He opens his mouth, stops to lick his top lip.

It’s taking everything in your power to not catapult over the island and slam your lips against his.

He finally speaks. “We should get ready.”

And your daydreaming dissipates just like that.   

Two hours later, you and Sam wait outside the St. Charbel Chapel in Calvary Catholic Cemetery. It’s the closest church and holy ground from the museum Sam had found in his research.

A fire truck zooms down a nearby street, siren wailing.

You wait for Dean. 

Things had not gone according to plan.

At the fundraiser, Sam got cornered near the crudités by a Lancaster County Sheriff’s Office deputy. From what you overheard, Sam’s cover had been blown. He was in imminent danger of being arrested by Deputy Dickens for impersonating a federal agent. Dean was off in one of the acquisition storage rooms searching for the Hand of Glory.

You all were SOL.

You did what any hunter interested in self-preservation would do. Walked over to the nearest fire alarm and inconspicuously pulled the lever. Alarms went off. In the chaos of disgruntled partygoers filing out of the building, Sam dropped the deputy to the ground with a combo shoulder check and leg sweep. You were down on the floor in a flash, asking the lawman if he was alright. Before he could reply, you held a handkerchief doused with your travel-size bottle of chloroform to his mouth and nose. A clutch could only hold so much—such an inconvenience.

Sam pushed the passed-out deputy under the appetizer station’s floor-length tablecloth. You both did a hurried power walk past the crowd gathered in front of the museum. Sam tried his best to slow down his stride enough for you to keep up wearing heels. At least you only had four blocks to cover to end up at the cemetery, the agreed-upon meetup location.

You pace in wait. “He’ll be here,” Sam states with conviction.

You never want to leave a man behind. Especially not Dean.

Sure enough, Dean’s shadowed figure jogs up the cemetery walk in the dark minutes later. You recognize his panting first.

Sam shines a light in Dean’s direction. He’s a bit disheveled from whatever he had to do to skip out of the museum undetected. The hair, styled in a neat part earlier, is now askew.

“Guessing I have you two to thank for having to hop out a bathroom window and into thorny rose bushes.”

You shrug. “Sam was about to get handcuffed.”

Dean ponders for a moment. “Context is important to determine whether that’s good or bad for Sam.”

“Dean, come on, did you get it?” Sam asks with an impatient wave of his hand.

Dean pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and flaps it open with a wrist snap. He pulls out a gnarled, desiccated object under his jacket's lapel. “I did get it, using my five-finger discount.”

The burning ritual had at least gone smoother than the rest of the evening. Sam dropped the two of you around the back of the hotel in his rental car. You both had left Baby in the connected garage and taken a cab to the museum. 

“See you all at the bunker.” He smiles, energized, and pumped from a successful hunt. He’s glowing and adorable. You realize you have gotta dial back the internal ogling of your hunting partners and quick or it’s gonna get all kinds of uncomfortable in your head.

“See ya, Sammy.” Dean grins and salutes.

“Don’t take too long to get out of town.” Sam advises, flicks his bangs out of his eye line with a shampoo commercial head whip, then peels off with a wave.

The key card lets you sneak in through the poolside.

The ride up the elevator starts quiet. You spend the time zoning out and staring at the tapered triangle of shoulder and back that makes up Dean’s tuxedo jacket.

So, dialing back the ogling is going great.

“You looked really good tonight,” Dean murmurs. You catch his gaze in the door’s reflective surface. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “you still look really good. I never got the chance to tell ya earlier.”

The attention straightens your posture. You adjust the spaghetti strap of your little black dress. “Thanks.” It’s all you can think of to respond. You tear your focus away from the eye crinkles, now the newest sexy thing you’ve failed to notice. It’s safer to inspect the corners of the floor for dust. The small enclosed space heats due to Dean Winchester occupying it.

The elevator dings and you hold in a sigh of relief. You exit first, then halt so he leads. You trail behind him in silence to the room. He opens the door. Your steps scoot past his body.

“Got time to change?” Hopeful, you’re already rifling through your duffel for your jeans and flannel.

“Sam’s right. We should probably bolt.”

You groan.

“Let’s put some miles between us and Lincoln.” It’s not really a suggestion.

“Fine.” You give in, knowing he’s right.

You aren’t tired on the drive back. The sense of accomplishment after a successful case turns most hunters into live wires, you included. 

You and Dean have been chatting about the hunt. The lackluster food at the fundraiser. Sam’s impressive Latin skills. An apparent millionaire whose breath stunk like a month old convenience store burrito. And you knew what one of those smelled like from unfortunate firsthand experience. The conversation switches to some repairs that need to be done around the bunker. A casserole recipe on Pinterest you want to try. Who’s going to get the treat of washing all the MOL classic cars in the garage. The topics pogo all over the place. You love these moments with the brothers. 

You’re an hour and some change out from Lincoln, halfway to Lebanon, when Dean has an idea.

His finger wags at a mile marker. “There’s a decent bar in Bruning. Wanna grab a drink to celebrate?”

You stare at his unbuttoned tux jacket, then your dress. “Like this?”

“Sure. Why not?” It’s not really a question as he takes the exit.

You drew the line at wearing heels in the bar. Dean grabbed your worn cowboy boots from Baby’s trunk. He leaned against the car beside your open passenger door. You tugged on boots, leaned forward, giving any passersby a free show down the front of your dress. Arms folded, Dean scowled and puffed out his chest to any male who dared to glance in your direction.

A minute later you both entered the bar and did the usual routine without speaking. Head to respective bathrooms. Clean up and make yourselves respectable looking. But as you blotted your foundation and appreciated the staying power of your makeup in the mirror - okay, maybe that setting spray was worth the price - you considered who you were making yourself respectable for?

It’s not like either one of you were expecting to get lucky tonight. The bunker was less than two hours away. No one was gonna pick up a local and take them back to their motel room.

You applied a fresh coat of red berry lipstick.

So, that left only you and Dean freshening up for… each other?

You scoffed at the ridiculous idea, ran fingers through your hair.

A drink. One drink. To celebrate a job well done.

“That’s all it is,” you mumble.

You’ve played darts for an hour. Dean’s on his third whiskey. You’ve downed four fruity rum concoctions, mainly because you loved hearing Dean order the drink. 

Entertainment was the least he could do after beating you for the sixth time.

The waitress stops at your high top and grabs the empty plates and glasses. “What else can I get you two?”

Dean clutches a dart, deep in focus, squinting at the target board. “You wanna nother Bahama Mama?”

You suppress a giggle and smile at the waitress. “Just more water. Thanks.”

“We should probably load up on the grease before we head home.” Dean peers at the waitress over a shoulder. “Maybe some fries, darlin’, to go along with one last shot of whiskey?”

“Sure thing, sugar.” She smiles, then waits for Dean to turn around before eyeing his backside in approval. With a grin, she taps your bare forearm. “Lucky you,” she whispers.

You are lucky. But not for the reason the waitress thinks. Being around Sam and Dean means safety and security. The eye candy is merely a bonus. One you are debating if you should indulge in more often or continue to restrict your caloric intake.

After all, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating a work of art.

Dean had flung his necktie in Baby’s backseat and unbuttoned his collar during the drive. The casual way he now wore the tux was even more attractive. “Probably a good idea if you lay off the alcohol. It’s definitely affecting your game tonight.” He grins.

You lean your heavy weighted head against a palm for support. “Yeah, must b’it,” you slur, more than you like. Your gaze zones in on his fingers gripping the dart. Those damn fingers have been a distraction all night. He has to be unaware he’s sabotaging any ability to focus. Dean is an outright flirt with his targets. You’ve seen him lay on the charm thick and sticky the same way he slaps peanut butter and jelly on white bread. Subtlety has never been his thing.

Speaking of targets. The dart launches out of his hand and lands dead center. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Dean performs the ka-ching motion for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Normally, it’s annoying, but you battle your lids open to stare at his clenched fist in awe. Again. He slides onto the bar stool and inspects you with a concerned smile. “You usually drink me under the table. Sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” You hum. 

The waitress whizzes by and deposits Dean’s shot and a basket of fries. Dean’s voice floats in the air expressing his thanks to, you think he says, Linda. Then a pointed order hits you right in the face. “Hey, eat something. I ain’t carrying you to the car like some swoony duchess on those shows you binge.”

“They’ve got carriages, not cars.” You blink over and over and straighten up. A handful of fries fill your mouth. Your brain hasn’t caught up in time to tell you to shut up and chew. “Yud make a ghood ake.”

“What?” Dean smiles at you like he’s happened across his favorite Scooby-Doo episode while channel surfing.

You gulp down the gluey mashed goodness. “You’d make a good rake.”

“What’s that? Some kind of man servant? I was a handmaiden once.” He indulges in some of the fries before you eat them all. Those fingers push them past his lips.

“No. A rake’s-” You huff at the gall when he attentively licks the grease off his thumb. His tongue is quite, um, “Nimble.”

He frowns, obviously confused. “A rake’s nimble?”

You shake out the cobwebs in your brain, tripping you up with a collision of thoughts. “A rake’s a ladies’ man,” you mutter.

His spine stiffens, shoulders pop back in pride. “I do try to please the ladies every chance I get.”

“We are all well aware.” More fries thankfully save you from saying anything that may humiliate.

“Guess those aren’t your favorite characters. You probably like the stuffy types that are all serious, with their noses up in the air or stuck in a book.”

You shrug. “Nah, I go for the rogues.”

One of Dean’s brows quirk up. “The dangerous type?” One side of his mouth lifts as well.

“Yeah, a scoundrel. You know, the one you can’t quite figure out. They’ve got this bad reputation or some sordid past. But, they go after what they want. Take what they want.” You hum again and close your eyes. You can still see Dean’s grin in your mind’s eye.

“Too bad I don’t fit the bill.”

You freeze. Eyes still closed. He didn’t just… did he?

“I mean. It’d be all kinds of wrong. Me going for something I wanted, damn the consequences.”

You inhale and grip the curve of the table top. You open your eyes to find him sipping at his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me,” you whisper.

He gives you a toe curling smile now. The glass clinks onto the table. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not your type.”

“I-wh-” It’s too late. You’ve never been on the receiving end of what is most definitely Dean Winchester flirting. “What makes you think that?”

He leans in. His breath meets your inhale and you take in all the spice and warmth. “I wouldn’t do a thing to mess this up. Not unless, you know, I knew.”

You nod, dumbstruck. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, yeah.” A whoosh of fatigue makes your head spin.

Dean smiles. “We live together, hunt together. Packed like sardines together twenty-four seven sometimes. Wouldn’t want to mess any of that up. Unless I knew, you know?”

“Knew what?” Your chin drops to your chest despite your best efforts. The weight of your body gets ready to do a face plant on the table top. You squish your lids shut tight and groan in horror at the inevitable.

But, Dean is there to save you. Again. His fingers swoop in to cradle your jaw and lift up your head. The embarrassment and alcohol finally overtake you. As you fade, you hear, “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’ll remember the answer.”

You woke up in your bed, back at the bunker. Again, with no idea if it was morning or night. No idea how much time had passed since…

You spring upright to sit. And, yeah, that was a mistake. Your head pounds. Your mouth is dry and tacky. Your stomach feels like it got turned upside down. Not that much time has passed since…

You groan and lay back down, slow and gentle. You piece the last snippets of memory together.

You stare up at the ceiling, grateful for the darkness. You want it to suck you up whole.

Did you pass out in the middle of Dean hitting on you? Did Dean end up swooping you up and putting you in the Impala? Driving you home passed out in the back seat - or God forbid the front passenger seat with you lolling about, mouth probably open and drooling - then carrying you throughout the bunker to your bedroom? Did he…?

You pat your chest and feel the spaghetti straps and silky fabric of your little black dress. You sigh. He had taken pity on you and only stripped you of your cowboy boots.

There’s a soft tap on your bedroom door.

“Oh no.” You pull the blanket over your head, mortified. You don’t think you can face him.

But it’s not Dean that says your name. It’s Sam.

“You alright? I heard you… uh… moaning.”

“Yeah,” you squeak. “Hungover.”

You think you hear Sam snicker. “Dean said you outpaced him by a mile. In darts and drinks.”

That makes you pause to recall. No, you definitely don’t think any of that’s accurate.

“He made some breakfast before he went out, if you’re hungry.”

Great, he can’t bear to face you, either. “Thanks, Sam.”

“If you’re up for it later, I could use some assistance researching.”

You take a measured breath to quell the nausea. “I’ll let you know.”

You’d chewed some aspirin and drank glass after glass of water from the sink in your room and somehow passed out for a few more hours.

You drag yourself out of bed around noon and shower in an effort to resemble something close to human. The stomach growls lead you to the bunker kitchen. At first, you smile at the plate of pancakes Dean covered with a clean kitchen towel for you. A frown follows at the odd shape of them. They aren’t his usual silver dollar pancakes stacked six high.

You tilt your head, attempting to figure out what Buttermilk Banksy was trying to create. The two pancakes, side by side on a large plate, obviously started out as circles. But then, four long tendrils were added along the top of each and a little offshoot one on the side. A turkey? Why the hell would Dean make turkeys? It wasn’t anywhere near Thanksgiving time.

“‘Bout time, sleepy head.” Dean’s voice wafts in from the doorway. He strolls in without a care in the world. There’s no hesitancy to lock eyes with you. Which is good. That has to mean you didn’t make more of a fool of yourself than you remember. He tugs on the fridge door. “Do you want something else or those pancakes enough?” He’s asking the interior of the refrigerator more than you, his head circling the shelves. “Was gonna pile on the grease but thought you might need to take it easy after last night.”

“No, this is great. Thank you.” You keep your voice low, hoping he’ll get the hint and not make too much noise.

He seems to, clicking the door shut softly after grabbing a cold slice of pizza. “Oh, I thought we’d do a movie night in the Dean cave. I bought angus ground beef for burgers. I’ll make some potato wedges. Grabbed your favorite microwave popcorn, movie theater butter.”

The menu, miraculously, doesn’t make your stomach lurch into panicked somersaults. “None of that sounds Sam approved.”

“He’s got that author signing book store thing in Stockton tonight.”

Oh, right. You’d forgotten for a moment how excited Sam was to listen to some guy read a chapter from his book on the evils of the Federalist Society.

“Think you’ll be up for it?” Dean asks, brows raised hopeful.

You smile. “I think I will.”

“Good.” He captures a third of the pizza slice in one bite. After four chews and a swallow he finishes with, “I’ll go easy on you.” The grin he flashes catches you off guard. It’s that one that if Sam saw it, he’d suspect you and Dean had a secret.

Problem was, you didn’t know what the secret was.

“We got weapons to clean in an hour. No matter what Sam says about research.” Dean taps the door sill on the way out of the kitchen. “Meet you in the library. Don’t be late.” He disappears.

You stare down at your breakfast, which is now technically lunch, and a queasy feeling erupts. But not from the hangover or the thought of eating.

The pancakes Dean made. You think you know what the shapes are now.

A pair of hands.

Time in the library with Sam and Dean is pure torture. 

You’re sat equidistant between the two of them, in the middle of one of the long massive wooden tables. Sam is on one end, flipping through page after page of a volume on corporal punishment. He’s trying to work out an easy cheat sheet - a work flow chart - that you all can use in the future. If you can identify what crime someone was charged with committing way back when, you’d have a better idea of the dismembered mummified appendage to track.

Dean occupies the other head of the table. A worn cloth laid out in front of him, all manner of weapons lined in a neat row atop it, awaiting his hands.

His hands. God, you hope the pancakes were merely a cheeky, inside joke on Dean’s part. Maybe it was a reminder about your insistence on the manicure. Or the friggin’ Palmolive commercial that, thanks Dean, you can’t get out of your head either. Because now all you can think about is Dean’s massive fingers dipped in a teeny tiny glass bowl filled with sudsy dish detergent. 

Between Sam’s page turns and Dean’s clink of weapons your brain can’t settle or calm down. You’re also trying to appease both hunters. You’re reading through a book on your right and sharpening a machete on your left. 

“That jugglin’ act might leave you with more than a paper cut if you aren’t careful,” Dean chides.

You swallow down the urge to quip something back. It’s only when the whetstone clears the curve of the machete and halts at the tip that you tear your gaze from the task and stare at Dean. “I can handle it.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure you can HANDle it.” He shrugs. “Just wouldn’t want you to lose a FINGER.”

“How about you quit distracting her? She’s doing you a favor.” Sam’s brows lift pointedly at Dean. “And besides, why do you insist on cleaning weapons here when you could literally be doing it anywhere else in the bunker?”

Dean curls up the fakest smile at Sam. “Cause I love your company.” 

The boys settle after a few more grunts and scoffs at each other. You plunge nose deep into lore and wish the pages were waves pulling you out to sea. 

There’s no way Dean’s emphasis on “hand” and “finger” were accidental. Dean’s pretty intuitive. But you are a pretty good actor in your own right when you need to be. However, there’s still a chance that you said or did something when you were too intoxicated to remember.

It’s not helping that Dean’s performing his weapon cleaning like a goddamn seduction. Mr. Hand Model takes apart the sawed off, cleans the inside of and around the barrel, reassembles, and clicks all the pieces back into place. His nails look perfect, shiny and slick with the gun oil. His beefy fingers curl around the wood and steel in a way that makes you want to trade places with the firearm.

You somehow endure for 45 minutes. Last night’s indulgences are blamed in an excuse to head back to your bedroom. As you preemptively wish Sam an enjoyable outing later, Dean reminds you to rest up for dinner and a movie.

Ugh. You know how Dean gets when he won’t let something go that he finds hilarious. This could go on for a while.

It’s a trap. It’s gotta be.

Dean’s lowering your defenses with good food and good company.

It all started in the kitchen where dinner was served. He wasn’t kidding about the burgers. He made quarter pound medium rare works of art with cheese and all the toppings. The bun was Texas Toasted out. The guy even used the air fryer to produce ridiculously addicting potato wedges with a spicy paprika and chili powder coating.

Then, it was Dean cave time. No beer in sight, you were given pop to drink, with an offhanded “no repeat performance of last night” remark. You slid down the couch, groaning, pulling the hoodie over your face for dramatic effect. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting between you on the couch and added, “You know, so you don’t pass out midway through the movie.”

You inhale the buttery goodness beside you and relax, popping back up in your seat. A swig of sugar wakes up your lethargic post-meal brain and settles the nerves that Dean is up to something. “So, what masterpiece do you have for us tonight?” you query.

He presses a button on one remote and the lights dim. Another remote in hand, another button press, and the television screen blares with an all too familiar soundtrack.

“The Empire Strikes Back.” You nod. “Good choice.”

“It’s your favorite one,” Dean reminds you.

“Yeah. Yoda. Duh.”

Dean chuckles.

Things fall into that easy going movie commentary that you and Dean are so fond of doing. It drives Sam crazy when he's watching stuff with the two of you. You’re spouting behind the scenes facts you know you’ve told Dean a half a dozen times already (like how the puppeteer who’s voicing Yoda also voices your favorite muppet, Fozzie Bear). Dean adds his own sound effects when the AT-ATs are firing, points out every Wilhelm scream, and helps Harrison Ford out by quoting all of Solo’s lines.

Leia is fixing some equipment on the Falcon and you comment, “I like the braid updo more than the cinnamon rolls.”

“Eh, I don’t know. The combo of beauty and baked goods is pretty hard to beat.”

Solo walks in and tries to help. Leia pushes him away. You sigh. “Here they go.”

Dean turns to you and raises an eyebrow. In perfect sync with Solo’s dialogue he utters, “Hey Your Worship, I’m only trying to help.”

You eye roll. “Would you please stop calling me that?” If it's a quote battle Dean wants, it’s on. If Sam were here, he’d be so done with the both of you right now.

“Sure, Leia.”

A huff for good measure. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”

Dean leans in. “I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Wait. Wait. Oh no. You don’t have to be looking at the screen to know what happens next. Leia hurts her HAND trying to turn a lever. You clam up at all the fucking context this scene now holds for you and Dean. You can’t say the next lines. Because you know that Solo grabs Leia’s HAND as she says, “Occasionally, maybe… when you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

That’s when last night’s rum-infested confessions cut to the front of the memory queue. You adore scoundrels, rogues.

Dean doesn’t miss a beat, though. He even gazes down at one of your HANDS. He continues the performance. “Scoundrel?” Face half cast in shadow, his lids widen, irises still manage to catch the light and entrance you. “Scoundrel?” A huge grin emerges. “I like the sound of that.”

Solo is massaging Leia’s HAND the whole time.

Leia whispers, “Stop that.”

Dean replies, “Stop what?” Though he’s not questioning the screen. He’s locked eyes with you. Daring you to break away first.

Leia answers, even softer. “Stop that. My hands are dirty.”

Dean tilts his head, uncaring. “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” Oh, Leia, Don’t egg him on.

“You’re trembling,” Dean’s voice is softer. He’s edging closer, but there’s only so much distance he can cover with the popcorn bowl in the way.

You decide now’s as good a time as any to try and act your way out of a paper bag. “I’m not trembling.” You coat your response with steel.

Dean is only encouraged by your participation. “You like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

You ponder for a moment. “I happen to like nice men.”

“I’m nice men.” Dean offers with complete sincerity.

You scoff. “No, you’re not. You’re…”

The music swells. Solo and Leia kiss.

But, you and Dean just stare at each other, for what feels like an eternity. You know C3PO is gonna interrupt the lovebirds at any moment. It’s the only lifeline you have, so you wait for the robot with the worst timing in history to save you from embarrassment.

“Guys?” Sam’s voice calls from the hallway.

You snap, stick straight, your back pressed against the seat. Sam must have come in through the garage.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, Sammy. Come on in. Back so soon?”

The door flings open. Warm ceiling lights from the hall halo Sam’s figure. “You know how they say, never meet your heroes? Totally valid advice tonight.” Sam stumbles into the room, all lanky limbs, and sinks into the cushy side chair. He runs fingers through his hair, his profile scrutinizing the screen. “Jedi?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, how are we related?”

The three of you watch the rest of the movie without much commentary.

And you and Dean do not quote any other lines.

You cleaned up the dinner mess, alone, in the kitchen. You insisted it was the least you could do and Dean didn’t put up much resistance.

You find Dean’s bedroom door open on your way to your own for the night. You stop in the doorway to thank him again.

He’s putting away some shirts in his dresser, back turned. He looks comfy, cozy, showered, and perfect. You compose yourself in a split second when he senses you and cocks his head to the door. “Hey, everything okay?”

It’s his usual question, always assuming something needs fixing or solving. But, you sense extra concern in the tone this time.

You nod, wanting to ease the tide of Dean Winchester’s worry. “Thank you. Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, even with Chewbacca?”

You chuckle. “Be nice.”

He waves you in as he wraps up his laundry. You oblige and sit by the tiny corner table. “Yeah, you’re right. Solo actually wouldn’t mind Chewy hanging out with him and Leia.”

You smile. Apparently, it’s Star Wars character dissection time. “So, if Sam’s not Chewbacca…”

The drawer squeaks closed. “Luke.”

“Han doesn’t mind Luke. Annoyed, sometimes. But, everyone annoys Han at one point or another.”

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, facing you. He stretches, hands entwined and arms raised overhead. A white t-shirt hugs his form here and there. You get a glimpse of perky nipples pressing against fabric. “Luke was competition. Before the brother-sister bombshell,” Dean states.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“But, the three of them, they made a good team,” Dean continues.

You nod, deliberate and slow.

“It only takes one person to start getting feelings for another one in the trio and then the whole galaxy is in jeopardy.” Dean taps the pads of his fingers together.

You sigh. You didn’t want to have to rat yourself out. But, Dean’s got a point. So, how do you go about telling him you’re finding him unbelievably attractive all of a sudden? And how do you ease his apparent worry? What, you’ll do your best to keep it in check? It won’t interfere with the work you do?

“We’re a good team, right? You, me, Sammy?” Dean cuts through the silence with the questions. He scrubs at the nape of his neck.

“I-I’d like to think so. But, you’re right, Dean. It can throw the whole balance off in a good working relationship if someone starts to catch feelings that aren’t reciprocated.”

His eyebrows form a distraught mountain peak. “So, it’s true?”

He looks so unhappy at the possibility, but you’ve gotta be an adult about it. “It just started happening during the last case.” You shrug. “But, I don’t have any intention of acting on them.” A hand raises. “Don’t worry.”

His lips purse tight. Nostrils flare. He’s deep in thought. Finally, he says, “But, you won’t know if you don’t act on it.” He nods more to convince himself now. “You should talk to Sam about how you feel.”

You blink, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Hey, I gave it a ‘good ole high school dropout that earned his GED’ try. We have established that I am not your type.”

“Wha-?”

“I’ll be fine with the two of you being a thing. I want to see you and Sam happy. If that means you both, together, that’s great.”

Your hands circle in front of you. “Whoa, whoa. Back up a minute.” Suddenly, your heart is racing.

“What?” He’s got that vacant puppy dog expression, every muscle in his face relaxed, wide open eyes.

You steady your breathing. “What made you think you were my type?” You can’t help the question. You only hope it doesn’t sound belittling or sarcastic. Right now, it’s your last defense of self-protection and attempt at fact finding. You gotta know if you are misinterpreting the revelation that Dean may in fact be upset if you and Sam were an item. Because… he wants you two to be an item?!

“You were acting… weird… ever since Lincoln and the manicure.” He twiddles his fingers. “I was picking up signals that weren’t there, I guess.” He shakes his head and mumbles. “Or, I probably was looking too hard to find something that wasn’t there. Like those times you tell me I’m sniffing around the wrong dog’s butt.”

You squish your lids at how crass you can be. It’s giving you less reasons to think he could find you attractive in any capacity. “Okay, but why was that so important to know?”

His arms extend from side to side. He’s getting riled up and more than a little miffed. But, you know that might work in your favor. His mouth tends to run on autopilot and the truth comes flying out. “Our, I don’t know, petri dish of co-existing in this jack-in-the-box wouldn’t get fucked up. I wouldn’t go off half-cocked and do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while unless I knew, for sure, that you felt the same way I did.” His hands retract and fall in his lap. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at his socked feet. “But, you don’t.”

You’ve got actual fucking butterflies beating their wings like bongo drums in your stomach. “What have you wanted to do for a while?”

His eyes track up to you. He’s inspecting you, hard. That’s doing nothing to quell the excitement inside. “What’s the point in telling you that now?”

“Because, maybe… you’re wrong and… you are my type.”

Dean’s lids lift a quarter of an inch. It’s a minute, micro reaction. But you catch it.

“Maybe I’ve been ignoring it for a while, because, like you. I didn’t want to mess things up. I love Sam.” You swallow, ready to bare all. “But, I haven’t been thinking about what his hands could do to me,” you whisper.

Dean inhales, sharp and quick through his nose at that confession. He exhales, adding, “Don’t fuck with me.”

You can’t do anything but grin in a way that you’re sure makes you look like a goddamn idiot. “I should have said that to you numerous times today. The pancakes. The gun cleaning. Freakin’ Han massaging Leia’s HAND!”

His lids widen. “Hey, it was me testing my theory. Like when we gotta douse someone with holy water to make sure they aren’t possessed. All but the movie, though. Swear I did not remember that scene until a few seconds before it started happening.” He sits up, rubs palms on his sweatpant clad thighs. “Well, okay, I didn’t remember the hand thing, but I wanted to see how you reacted to like THE best scoundrel ever.” Now, he’s grinning. “Been thinkin’ about my hands, huh?”

You roll your eyes merely to play along. “Alright, don’t get a big head.”

He cocks his head like a devilish rogue. “No need for a big head when I’ve got big hands.”

The giggle escapes before you can lasso it.

Dean slides his gaze up your seated frame. It’s a filthy, seedy expression. And hot as fuck. He stops to stare at your mouth, then licks his own. When his eyes meet yours, he commands, “Come on over and show me what you’ve been thinking of.” He pats his thighs. “I’ve got a nice warm seat for ya.”

He’s kidding, right? He wants you to sit on his lap. As if you’d even consider it.

And, yeah, you aren’t considering it. There’s no time for consideration when your legs have already propelled you out of the seat. You give his bedroom door a swing in a passing thought about closing it for privacy.

You can see the look of surprise on Dean’s face as you march over to the bed. But it’s mixed with want and eagerness. He opens his arms in welcome.

Warmth prickles your cheeks at the forwardness you display in accepting the invitation. One knee props up on the bed beside him. You anchor hands onto his shoulders, feel those fingers fan and lock onto your waist, and you bring the rest of your body up to straddle his lap.

You sigh, staring down at that kid in a candy store grin of his, and marvel at how very right it all feels. You settle, your ass firmly atop his thighs. The heat of him is immediate.

“Been wanting you like this,” he whispers, his nose brushing the skin exposed around your collar. A hand molds to the side of your neck, holding you in place. You shiver at the lips skirting upwards along the channel of your throat. “Now who’s ticklish?” It’s meant to tease, but his voice has lost that hint of mirth. It’s deeper, daring you to deny his observation as anything other than fact. “Maybe you aren’t ready for my hands. All.” A kiss at the juncture where your lobe meets your jaw. “Over.” A peck at the tip of your chin. He threads his fingers into the base of your hairline. He eases your head with a smooth tilt down. You lock eyes with his green ones once again. “You.”

The only response you can give is to connect your lips to his. Feeling the pliant, soft give of his mouth against yours. Then his insistent lean up and forward, forcing you to stand your ground while seated on his lap. You have to demonstrate your want is equal to his.

And you want. You so want.

Whatever you’re doing, his approving moan eggs you to continue. With each swipe and dip and dive of your lips, your mouth opens a bit more. The access encourages Dean’s tongue to taste. He laps at you gently, swirls around just enough that your core begins to ache. He pulls away and you groan. You’re drunk with desire, heavy and heady. 

Your lids blink open slow and sleepy. Thankfully you find Dean’s looking as blissed out as you feel. He’s inspecting your reaction through a hazy gaze. His hand captures the side of your face. Five pressure points sink into your skin. His eyes flicker to your mouth to watch his thumb outline the curve of your lip. The pad tugs and drags at your skin.

It’s only a second of wordless communication between the two of you. He asks with a lifting of his lids. You agree with an affirmative blink.

His thumb delves into your mouth, up to the first knuckle. You wrap your lips around. Suck with the gentlest of pressure.

His mouth lifts into a slight smile. “Good girl,” he whispers.

And, fuck if that doesn’t open your floodgates. You’re slick and ready.

Dean’s other hand runs along the waistband of your yoga pants. “You been thinking about my hands all over you…” His thumb glides under the fabric of your panties. “Taking you apart, piece by piece.” He delves farther down, until he taps the top of your mound. His jaw clenches at your gasp of anticipation. His thumb hooks under your tongue against the floor of your mouth to express just how in command he is right now. “You gonna do what I say, Your Worship?”

You nod. You’ll don a pair of cinnamon buns if he tells you to right now.

He smirks, cocky and full of confidence. “The better I make you feel down here...” He works his thumb between your folds and presses against your clit. You squirm in his lap. “The better you suck with that beautiful mouth, yeah?”

You nod again. He releases the pressure in your mouth, circles your bundle of nerves. He slips and slides while his fingers splay over your stomach to anchor in place. You latch onto his thumb again and suck on it like a straw

“Pretty sure this isn’t as wet as you’re gonna get,” he comments like a fucking weatherman. After only a few seconds, he sighs and shakes his head. “Too many fucking clothes.”

You’ve only sparred with Dean a handful of times. Every time, he’s bested you with graceful movements and quick action. He disengages from you for what must have only been seconds, spinning you around in his grasp and pinning your back to the mattress. He’s whipping off your t-shirt, pants, and underwear. Leaving you in only your bra.

He leers over you, hands running up the underside of your thighs. He kneels onto the bed, all of his clothes still on, to wedge against your ass. All of you is on proper display for him. And he takes it all in.

“Right, Gorgeous. Where were we?” One hand rides its way up your chest back to your mouth. You accept his index finger between your lips this time. His other hand resumes playing with your clit. “Hm. Much better.” 

A gasp escapes from your mouth. Your tongue ejects his finger so you can point out, “Who’s the one with too many fucking clothes on now?”

“All good things come to those who wait, darlin’.” He settles further, criss crossing over top of your flesh. His legs sandwich your right thigh while he strums your pussy. The hope of what else is to come pokes into your side through his sweatpants. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, slipping his finger into your mouth again. The pull of his left hand guides you to lean your head toward the right. He settles his beefy forearm onto the mattress above your shoulder.

His chest pins you down in a kinky wrestling move. Teeth snag your ear lobe. He applies pressure to the swollen flesh over a ridge of bone, then uses a flicking motion that makes your thigh twitch in delight.

You're sloppy with your technique of licks and sucks as he feeds you another digit. But, really, how is any gal supposed to mind their manners with Dean Winchester fingering her? You groan, helpless, as he explores your folds, finds your entrance with two tips. “I know you got a thing for my hands,” his hot breath tunnels into your ear canal, “but, if you want, I can fill you up real good with something else.”

You can’t reply with any actual words, only moans of agreement. The erection pressing into your hip bone sure does feel substantial. If it’s anything like his fingers - two fingers are currently surfing around your tongue and rubbing against your palate - he’ll have no problem filling you up.

To ground yourself in the reality of the situation, you snatch at the hem of his shirt and tug. Your pelvis tilts up at the slow insertion of one of his other fingers down below. “Damn,” he pants into your ear. “How long’s it been since someone took care of you, all nice and proper? So- so tight and wet.” He hums. “And warm.” A languid slide out with one finger, only to be accompanied with another when he pushes back inside. “Feel so good. Gonna feel even better around my cock after I make you come… Princess.”

You will not ever admit to the fact that you squealed with Dean’s fingers in your mouth. That you convulsed after only seconds of him playing with your clit and stretching open your hole.

Fireworks continue to skyrocket in your head. Your body tipped into the oversensitive zone. You’re aware of every bit of him plastered against you. He’s made you slick with arousal and sweat. Layers of fabric cling to skin. You should be suffocating with him laying atop you, but he feels like a weighted blanket. Warm, secure. Dean’s fingers don’t retract from your mouth or pussy. They are frozen in place. Your teeth nibble one set. Your muscles spasm around the other. 

He hasn’t moved. Hot breath huffs hard into the crook of your neck with an occasional sharp inhale and hold. You close your eyes. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could fall asleep like this.

“Was that… too much?” He deep-throat whispers in your ear now. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“N-mph-,” you chortle around his fingers.

“Shit, sorry.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth, the other slowly out of your hot core. Matching sighs release from you both.

“No,” you heave, and his chest rises up and off. “It was… awesome.”

He’s in your face now, all green eyes and pink lips, a veil of freckles along the bridge of his nose and forehead. “Yeah?”

You squint, trying to focus on all the glorious aspects. He’s studying you. You get the feeling he’s really not sure. “Why is the ladies man doubting himself all of sudden?” you tease, rocking to shuffle him out of the daze.

A shrug. “It’s you. I don’t always read you right.”

You lean your head back into his memory foam in an attempt to make full eye contact. “I don’t know how many ways you can misread giving me a mindblowing orgasm.”

He blinks, cautious. “Is what I did going to… you know… change things between us?”

“Oh.” You stop, dart your gaze to the ceiling past his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Oh, absolutely. I mean,” you pause, “how could it not?” You shake your head and feel his entire body go rigid. “It’s gonna be so awkward and uncomfortable around here.” 

When you dare to look at him, there’s a hint of something you don’t see often on Dean’s face. You think it might be fear.

You can’t bear it any longer. “I mean, I can already imagine the disgusted look on Sam’s face when we start making out right in front of him.”

Within seconds, the expression turns to one of relief and amusement, accompanied by the charming cockiness that’s gonna turn you to goo at the most inopportune moments from here on out. “Well, we don’t have to tell him right away. It might be fun to, you know, sneak around right under his nose.” He relaxes, sinks into you again. “I could have you all sorts of ways, in all sorts of places, doing our best not to get caught.”

You smile. “Don’t want to tell your brother you’ve stolen my heart with that five-finger discount of yours?”

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, then cups the heat of your folds again. “I mean, I sucked at Biology, but pretty sure this ain’t your heart, darlin’.”

“You’re wrong, you know?”

He blinks, all sass and spectacle, “This IS your heart?” He squeezes.

You peck his lips, roll your eyes, and curl arms around his waist. “No. Solo’s got nothing on you. YOU are the best scoundrel.”

A breathtaking kiss makes you all lightheaded. When he finally pulls away and allows you to exhale, he lifts one side of his mouth into a confident grin. “I know.”

THE END

[silverraes]

10 BL Boys I Want Carnally

10 BL Boys That Make Me Feel Things™

(not sexual, not romantic but a secret third thing)

okay so I wasn't exactly tagged in this but I saw several people doing this and I'll take just about any excuse to scream about my favorite characters so I'm just going to very sneakily join in on this trend 👀

there is absolutely no ranking to these bc I couldn't rank them if I wanted to

(also I changed the name a little bc my ace ass is literally physically incapable of wanting anyone carnally but I still have lots of thoughts lmao)

1) Tharn (The Sign)

I mean. is literally anyone surprised that this is where we're starting?

he's the nicest person out there. he can kick your ass if he wants to. he lost his parents at a young age and is absolutely convinced that everyone he loves is doomed to die and he keeps seeing visions of people dying and he's told again and again that those he has wronged in a past life - which he doesn't even remember - are still out to get him and yet he has so much kindness left for the world??

also he can be such a little shit and knows exactly how to tease Phaya back I love him so goddamn much.

(also that mole-)

2) Kim (Kinnporsche)

was he also on my characters I'd hit with my car list? maybe. and what about it.

I love him so much. he's such a badass but he's such a loser. famous singer who falls for a fan he was supposed to be investigating but is too emotionally constipated to admit it. badass son of a mafia family who can kick ass but only if he wants to. who does it like him honestly

(it also helps that he's played by just about the prettiest man alive)

3) Babe (Pit Babe)

did I start watching this show ironically? yes. is every mention of alphas and mpreg and that mama/papa thing hitting me like a brick and causing me 9000 psychic damage every single time? also yes. did I absolutely fall in love with the show and just about every character in it? you bet your fucking ass I did.

but I especially love Babe. he's just so babygirl. special alpha man who has to act tough and strong but just wants to be babied by his dumbass loser (affectionate) alpha boyfriend. like, he's actually so goddamn soft?? I love him.

4) Guy (Bake Me Please)

I think we all knew this was coming. I was literally gushing about him for half of the episodes. Guy my beloved. that show did not deserve you.

he spends the entire show supporting his crush's every decision and trying to make sure he's okay literally how could you not love this man

(yes he was a petty bitch for like 5 minutes there but he immediately apologized for it the next episode. properly. unlike certain other people-)

5) Sprite (Twins)

he's so himbo coded. himbo of all himbos. the himboest. not a brain cell in that head. he's my little dumbass I love him.

he deserves so much better than what he's being put through. someone please just love and support him for who he is. and also take him away from that family

(please talk to your boyfriend tho I am begging)

6) Wei Wuxian (The Untamed)

MY BELOVED. I could write essays about him. he's such a great character I love him so fucking much. if you ever had to bear witness to me talking about him.. I am so sorry.

sassy emo bitch with a flute and a tragic backstory who's seen as evil by just about everyone but only ever had the best intentions. absolute fucking dumbass. kicks ass. always smiling despite the circumstances. loves his siblings so damn much. doomed by the narrative. what more could you possibly ask for

7) Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

I'm trying so damn hard to keep this list to one character per show and it really took me a while to decide if I wanted to include him or Wen Kexing but ultimately it was Zhou Zishu for me

just.. god. him. assassin sect leader just trying to retire who keeps getting dragged into the biggest bullshit but doesn't really mind bc the bullshit comes with a mysterious pretty man. also that whole god damn nail thing. I have so many thoughts and feelings about that but this post would get too long if I got started on those-

(also actually pulling the "I'm literally dying" card to get out of chores is so fucking valid of him. more characters should do that)

8) Milk (Choco Milk Shake)

he is quite fucking literally a reincarnated cat, of course I love him. I could list reasons for why I love him but it would be the exact same reasons just about every cat person on earth lists for why they love cats so. but here's a quick summary, just in case:

petty. dramatic. knocks over glasses. silently loves you so fucking much.

9) Tew (My Dear Gangster Oppa)

I really did not expect to love him this much? greenest of green flags (except for the plot line we shall not talk about). can and will kill people and is fine with it (seriously it is so refreshing to see a mafia character not having a huge moral dilemma about being in the mafia). both a badass mafia man and a gamer guy who doesn't know how to talk to people and is absolutely whipped for his gamer bf.

also scars make a person just about 110x more attractive I don't make the rules. even if the scars are weird and yellow, it's the thought that counts.

10) Tian (A Tale of Thousand Stars)

I? love him??

I just love how he sets out to do something for someone he didn't even know because he feels like this person deserves that much at least and how he ends up genuinely loving and caring for those kids and the village and this inner conflict he's having the entire time but hiding oh so well and how he actually calls out his parents on their rich people bs and-

tagging everyone who reads this far and wants to do it. seriously. I mean it. if you want to do this, please go ahead and say I tagged you. I love reading everyone's thoughts.

[thortwenty151]

Okay you know what? I don’t want this to get lost in tags. Basically, Thor is allowed to have feelings and be messy and imperfect all on his own without it having much if anything to do directly with Loki. Or even indirectly. A huge amount of Thor’s character arc has to do with his relationship to Odin, and his relationship with who he himself is outside of being who he was brought up to believe he was meant to be.

Like he should not have been 1500 years old the first time his mother tells him he can be himself. And see, the trade off of this is that Thor has almost no self-worth nor self-actualization outside of who he thought he was supposed to be. And when the person he was supposed to be fucks up so badly (in his mind), that half the universe disappears…

Well, who is he after that? What purpose does he have? He can’t be the king he was expected to be, because that person doesn’t actually exist.

And because he can’t be that version of himself because of his trauma and grief and guilt, he doesn’t know who he is at all. And so the traumatized, grieving version of himself, the one that can’t get off the couch and has completely, as Chris Hemsworth said, “checked out” isn’t the king he was expected to be, so why bother even trying? He needed some time to not have to try. Valkyrie gets it, she was right in the same place, so she picks up the slack for him, which makes it that much easier to check out more and more. By the time Rocket and Bruce show up, he’s basically decided that this new version of himself is happy, while he’s right on the verge of a breakdown pretty much at all times.

He’s been taught his whole life not to show his people his feelings. His dad’s advice to him about having feelings was basically, go drink, and put on a goddamn happy face because a future king needs to keep his weird gross sadness to himself.

So Thor does exactly that: his feelings are too overwhelming to translate into productive anger (how he usually copes), so it turns inward. And that’s not good because he’s been told not to show his feelings so many times. It’s ingrained. So he drinks and he pretends to be happy, but it doesn’t mean he’s got any sort of sense of identity.

He leaves with the Guardians to try a different version of himself, to middling success in terms of helping him form his own identity, one that had started to heal from all the horrible things that have happened in a time period that, to him, is like a long weekend.

It’s a journey he’s still on, and ultimately it only peripherally has much to do with Loki.

[ladyloveandjustice]

i really wish people on that "does it like women" blog would only vote on polls for media they're actually familiar with instead of just basing their opinions on what others are saying in the notes... like if you haven't watched/played/read something isn't that what the see results button is for? personally i only ever vote on a poll i know nothing about if it's like "who's the best video cat: fluffy from jrpg #1 vs skrunkly from jrpg #2" and my mutual is strongly campaigning for skrunkly on my dash, because i figure that's just a silly fun thing. and even some of the does it like women polls for media i am familiar with i end up not voting in because i feel too conflicted about it. the soul eater poll is a good example actually, i want to say yes because imo maka is an awesome protagonist who's pretty unique for the genre she's in but like you said in your tags, there are also a lot of reasons to vote no! and this is coming from someone who loves soul eater and has both watched the anime and read the manga!

Yeah...it's weird to me. I don't see why that gives anyone more of a high to click yes or no rather than the see results button, like yeah it feels good to vote on this type of thing, but only when I have an informed opinion that comes from my own heart. And if you really want to vote, that seems like a good opportunity to uh, just check out whatever the media is. Even watching or reading for fifteen minutes will give some kind of impression that's better than just vibes or someone else saying something. It'll still probably be inaccurate in a lot of cases, but at least it'll be based off something.

I am fortunate in that I've watched and read a lot of stuff though, and I did instinctively click yes on like, Billy and Mandy based soley off the vague childhood memory that Mandy was straight up evil and I support women's wrongs, but there was actually probably a bunch of shit in that show I don't remember, so it's not like i can say I'm ALWAYS fully informed. And sometimes I use tags to refresh my memory. "I can't remember what this did bad...okay from the tags I now remember" I am by no means a purist, I just think the point of the poll is opinions from people who actually interacted with the media or at the very least know so much about it against your will through internet osmosis that you might as well have watched ten episodes (me and Supernatural) (I have seen plenty of clips along with fastidious episode summaries and story breakdowns and so many goddamn tumblr posts so that counts for me. I'll be damned if I don't have a right to an opinion after living through the indundation of 2013 tumblr. I didn't vote on Doctor Who though despite basically the same, that seemed like more of a tossup for whatever generation it was and I didn't feel even the massive amount of knowledge i've somehow accrued was enough to make a blanket assessment).

Anyway, even if it's not that serious, it's an earnest question that you're supposed to put actual thought into, and that's why I enjoy it so much.

I don't want to get too annoyed with it, just like I try not to with the results. At the end of the day it's the internet and just a difference in approach that I won't ever understand.

I like Soul Eater too, don't get me wrong! I have fond memories. The manga definitely fell off for me at the end (and I skipped over a lot of the early chapters because I'd seen the anime, knew it had cut out quite a few pantyshots, and I wasn't dealing with those), I actually prefer the anime original ending, despite how basic it was (especially in Crona's case god why did the manga never give them a break). Just nice to see my girl win the day by punching someone really hard.

But I enjoyed it and I still adore Maka. There's still no enough action shonen out there that have a female main character for it not to be kinda special. But god. imagine a world where it cared about its female supporting cast's development more than boobs. or storytelling more than boobs, in a lot of cases.

[herotome]

i'd like to know more about what you mentioned in the tags then, about taking inspiration from outside media! i remember when i first played the demo it hit just right cause i'd just watched the boys and i was hungry for more hero cynicism lol

Aw hell yeah!!

Okay so actually - I take very little inspiration from modern hero media, if any. I did grow up watching Justice League (2001-2004), Static Shock, and Batman the Animated Series and take some tonal inspiration from my memories of them (in which heroes generally try their best and it isn't always enough, villains tend to have sympathetic motives, also Mr Freeze is there and he's my big favorite), but that's about it.

When I started taking an interest in game design, I took deep inspiration from games with stories and mechanics that really resonated with me:

Mystic Messenger: I took heavy inspiration from how the love interests talk to each other, and how they all participate in every route. And the banter!! This game genuinely made me feel a personal connection to all its characters, and a lot of the player's dialogue choices were pretty damn funny for an otome game. (I have since learned that many, many indie otome games are similarly charming and I wrote a whole big list of recommendations, but didn't know they existed back in 2016-or-so.)

Undertale: Its sense of humor and meta commentary blew my mind. You could just do so much and have the game remember and react to your actions/choices, such as taking too much candy and making the whole bowl spill to the floor, or having the Mad Dummy rant about how you treated the dummy from the beginning of the game. Undertale is probably responsible for my deep interest in variable-tracking, and having characters respond to different things. (Dammit, Undertale, it's been so much work... but it's worth it I guess.....)

Disco Elysium: I played this a short while after MM and UT, and it just solidified my idea of what "my favorite game" would look like. Because I'm trying to make Herotome into my favorite game, that's my secret cap, etc etc. Anyway... Disco Elysium is fucking crazy. It's full of heart and camaraderie and also you can loudly beg for money and punch a literal child in the face and sing karaoke really badly and joking that if you find three racists you will be granted three wishes like??? It's unhinged. I haven't even mentioned the stellar atmosphere, plot, and how you have a bunch of voices in your head suggesting various courses of action and how you play as a recovering addict and you can go right back into your addiction with smoking alcohol and drugs... Describing it like this, it feels like an impossible game, that there's no way a game like this exists, but goddamn it do. And I take inspiration from a small.. SMALL aspect of it, because if I tried to fully emulate Disco Elysium I would probably die. It's just so much. And it's beautiful. Anyway DE inspired me to be more unhinged.

Dragon Age Origins: I'm listing this last because I actually played it well, well before I started game development, but it was such an impactful game for me that I'd never forgotten its scenes, characters, and how it made me feel. The CHARACTER BANTER... The sheer wealth of choices, and the emotions involved!!! There was such a general sense of world building and gravitas and then you find this mystical holy urn that's been important to a major religion and one of the characters quips "Nice vase. I should get one for my house." like??? Gah. I guess it inspired me not to take my own game too seriously, but the characters are also very,veryvery charming while also being quite diverse - everyone has a unique sense of humor and a unique background. The player can ALSO have a unique sense of humor and a unique background, which is super cool. I am absolutely not doing separate Origins for Herotome because that's way too much work-- but the diversity of the love interests did inspire me a great deal. Oh-- and the APPROVAL SYSTEM. I loved how you could get characters in the negative and have really, really interesting dialogue from antagonistic interactions, so DA:O really taught me early on that I didn't have to shy away from such things.

Perhaps most importantly: I like these games a whole lot, they are probably my favorite games. I want to like Herotome in the same way, or at least a very similar way.

A quote I try to think about a lot is "I'm surprised at the success of the show, I'm... I'm not surprised by people liking it that watch it, because... even though that makes me sound like a dick, like, that [sounds like] I knew people would like it, that's not quite what I mean-- I just mean, when you write something, you have to... if it's gonna be good, you have to be, like, its first fan, you have to be like... I don't care if I'm the only person who ever watches this, I love this. So when a second person says 'this is awesome!' You're like, stoked, but you're not shocked[...]"

... Okay I don't think about that entire stuttering quote (it's from Dan Harmon, regardless of how one might feel about him as a person he is an undeniably successful writer); but I do try to internalize "I don't care if I'm the only person who likes this" as often as I can.

I also make an effort to trust in the universe and that Herotome will reach "its people" and resonate with them in the same way my favorite games resonated with me...

... Anyway.

Outside of game design, I also try to pick out enjoyable aspects from everything I watch and read. If a book has a particularly well-written scene, I'll jot down some notes about why I liked it even if I didn't enjoy the book overall. Same with VNs and other games. While watching movies/shows I'll try to remember how they make me feel, and remember scenes that are particularly powerful and why they affected me. Yeah it's a lot of English homework, but it's how I work and indirectly feed Herotome and keep it alive in my day-to-day. I even have a playlist of random youtube videos I might reference while working on the game. Oh, and video essays -- I watch video essays religiously and make mental notes... let's plays, too, are a great way to experience how a game is designed and saving some time--

Uh, point being, you don't have to go hardcore categorizing and note-taking like I do. I just truly believe that every piece of media has something to share that can be molded and used to your own devices... even if it's "what not to do," in situations where I really, really don't like something. I'll just make a mental note to do the opposite thing. (eg, when Mystic Messenger let you choose your PFP and then randomly showed you the default MC kissing the love interest - so much whiplash, so awful, still one of my favorite games but whyyyyyy)

I actually did a meme about characters-who-inspired-my-characters a while back too, so there's that... same logic. Many many games and stories and characters inspired me, very few of them directly concern superheroes.

Thank you for the ask!!!

[tommyssupercoolblog]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

@bootlegfrank tagged me and @septiccoffeefreak - who shares this post w me because we're writing partners >:3 (frank tagged us indirectly. and then directly because i responded saying i was gonna do it. so in-indirect-diretly(??))

Rules: list the first lines(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern. I also said where each one is from in case u don't wanna scroll through our ao3 and do the math urself!!!

all these fics except one r RPF, sooo BE WARNED. i'm putting everything under da cut, and i'm also putting my reblog banner since fanfiction!!! is!!! art!!!

Seán’s about ready to burn his entire calendar.

from "Scheduling Conflicts and How To Cope - A Guide For The Busy Homosexual"

Tommy hates LA with every fiber of his being.

from "City Of Angels"

it's cold, and it hurts.

from "The Part Where it Gets Better (Lads rescue AU)", and also THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD OUT OF CONTEXT LIKE WHAT'S COLD??? it's water. the water is cold. this is the character based one btw. WE FOUND IT, THE NON-RPF!!!

Tommy inspects Seán’s behelit tattoo carefully, running his thumb over it a little, then kisses it.

I fucking would. kissing all his tattoos right now. mwah. this goddamn MOOD is from "There's No Place Like Home"

Ethan N3st0r was not expecting Seán to still be awake at three AM, even though with jet lag considered, he really fuckin should have.

I censored the name for search but it's not like that in the fic, that's just for tumblr. anyway, from "Three Drabbles In Which Tommy and Seán are bad at Keeping Secrets"

Ethan's the one to bring it up first, on Brain Leak, of all things.

OPENING WITH ETHAN AGAIN LMAOO. this is from "And Suddenly, It Makes Sense."

"So, who would have thought, huh? T0mmy1nn1t and Jacks3pt1c3y3, famous YouTubers, passed away in their sleep on the same night."

censored for tumblr again. from "Count your Soulmates- There's only one."

Seán and Tommy have sleepovers sometimes.

from "kissing practice". very original opening line /sar /lh (also tbh i feel awful about em being evil in this one :( I know its fanfic and i can do whatever I want but like. idk. i'm not accusing em of being mean IRL okay??? OKAY))

Seán spends about fifteen minutes pacing and staring at himself in the mirror, doing breathing exercises his therapist taught him and trying not to rub or scratch his wrists too much.

from "Puppy Love", the closest we've ever gotten to full misce posting on main

They were gluing ducks to a jeep the first time it happened.

FROM "PETNAMES" AND ALSO THE BEST OPENING LINE EVER

INTERPRETATION TIME!!!!

soooo yeah!!! we like to jump right into action as well but I think it's safe to say our autistic ass habits of giving exposition for everything lead to the specific outcome of starting in the middle of a scene, WITH an explanation of the scene. like we're already in the middle of something going on but also sometimes it's exposition at the same time somehow?? or like right after these first lines. idk maybe that's just me????

the way it's usually less (character does this) and more (character does this BECAUSE ____ // character is doing this and FEELING ____) feels like it's trying to give context, to me. but again idk maybe just me

TIME FOR SEÁN'S READING:

@septiccoffeefreak - "What I'm noticing here is more along the lines of just, how we almost always seem to open with a person. Usually by their actual name(s) too and not just a pronoun. I understand what you mean, Tommy, but I don't personally get that vibe? You could totally be right, of course, I just don't pick up on that. I defenitely notice, though, just how many of these are sentences where the literal first word is a name. the two exceptions to that are the pronoun "they" (which is still a person- or two people actually), and then water.

I guess the dialogue could also be considered an exception, but I don't think it counts since it also directly references us as characters.

and that's not something you necessarily have to do. You could open describing scenery or objects, or with dialogue that DOESN'T have the names of the characters in it- you could open with wind through a blade of grass or a character cursing under their breath or someone's cellphone crashing to the pavement or something. So it's definitely an "us" thing, it's a quirk of our writing style and not just normal writing. I don't know if like, we ALWAYS do this, but I do know that in these ten fics you pulled we do. I wouldn't be surprised if we did it like literally all the time as well, but I'm not going to pretend to know every first line we've ever penned to paper. or...print?? I don't fucking know, here, I'm just analyzing sentences on the internet for a tagging project.

Sorry if this ramble is kind of long, I hope it's at least interesting though??? sort of interesting? kind of interesting, in it's own way, hopefully. at least mildly, like a video you didn't turn on but aren't really reaching for the mouse/remote on to change it. You know?? Yeah. Like that. Or more interesting then that, hopefully. Thanks for uh, reading or, whatever, listening if you have a screen reader i guess, I'm getting nervous and it's very obvious because i'm rambling so I'm gonna hand things back off to the birthday boy, Toms. wish Tommo a happy birthday or I swear to fucking god your liver will be missing in the morning and you'll find it at the bottom of your morning cup of coffee."

back to me:

LMAO

wow omg i love my babygirl,,,, that made me laugh >:p

ANYWAYS. i didn't notice that!! oh em gee,,,,, name moment.

YOU SHOULD DO THIS TOO AND SEE IF YOUUUU SEE ANYTHING!!!!!

I'M TAGGING @kalcifers-blog AND.... no one else because all my other mutuals who i know for a fact write have paused as far as i'm aware, bc they're into mcyt RPF like I am and the w1lbvr situation put them on hiatus. and i don't know if any of them are back to feeling up to writing stuff.

I don't write about w1bvr ever and didn't watch him so I wasn't that affected but a lot of people were even if they just watched so like... Kalcie ur alone on here i'm SO SORRIE. ALSO this is /nf so u don't have to if u dont want to :p :3 >:D :000 >:PPPP :000 >:00

[loregoddess]

14, 15, 25 for the Love your fandom ask

14) the ship that always makes you smile Hmm, for long-running media, probably Midna x Link from LoZ:TP, bc that's basically the oldest ship in my fleet and it still brings me lots of joy. For mid-running media, probably Kay x Franziska for AA (my first rarepair), Rinea x Faye for FE:SoV (rarepair I wasn't expecting to see others ship), and Ashe x Dedue (literally got me to go out of my comfort zone to figure out how to draw cute ship art, when I was really bad and afraid of drawing people interacting). For stuff that I've gotten into over the past year, probably Alear x Pandreo from FE:Engage, and Mineru x Purah from LoZ:TotK (also I'm kinda silly goofy happy about Jin x Xiaoyu finally getting some development in Tekken 8, but that's bc I had to suffer watching it come to fruition over like, 20 years of my life, slowest goddamned slowburn I've ever had to endure).

15) the character that always makes you smile Oh, lots and lots. Long-running media would be Shad LoZ:TP, love that guy, I get excited anytime I see him. For mid-running, Satoru Hosonaga, my beloved from DGS/tGAA, a decent number of FE characters (Kurthnaga, Rhys, Libra, Flora, Lukas, Faye, Dedue, Ashe, and Ferdinand come to mind off the top of my head), most of the FF7 cast but esp. Red XIII/Nanaki. For more recent things, Alear and literally any of the Engage characters actually, the Octo2 crew (and also the Octo1 crew, and a fair amount of NPCs from both games); I also read Dungeon Meshi recently and I gotta say one of the most casts of all time, I haven't settled on favorites yet but damn were there some good characters.

25) a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces Block button is your bestie, don't feel bad for blocking people for any reason whatsoever so that you can peruse the fandom tag in peace. But also, if you find other fans who are making stuff you enjoy, support them by reblogging their art or headcanons or writing or whatever, or even just liking their stuff.

Do what you want to see in your fandom if you have the energy. I like to see people excited about things they love, whether that's a character or a ship or something about the story or their OCs or their own headcanons, like, doesn't even matter if it's not my Thing, I genuinely enjoy seeing people happy and brave enough to share that happiness in the main tag, so I try to also share stuff that brings me joy when I engage with fandom stuff too. Share joy when you can.

This is not to say you should never be negative ever like, you should also give yourself space somewhere to be a petty snob about things that tick you off. You don't have to make it public, but at the very least give yourself an outlet to let the negative move through and out of you. Believe me there are so many things that tick me off so much about either fandom spaces or various media that I could rant about for hours, but I just choose Not To Share It after I've written it out bc writing it often makes me feel better--or I go and find a trusted friend who I can be like, "Hey I gotta vent about something stupid real fast, will you hear me out?"

Lots of things in life are never all positive or negative feelings, but no emotion is inherently good or bad, so it's important to let yourself feel those emotions and let them pass without bottling them up. Otherwise they stagnate or explode, and neither is fun to deal with the aftermath for. But like, it's okay to be pissy about things from time to time.

Have fun, but never feel like you have to engage with a fandom just because you used to be a part of it, or you got into a new thing. I treat fandom like a public park, I can go there when I want to enjoy myself but I can also leave anytime I want. If a bunch of mean people are hanging around the park I know there are other parks, and I can just go to those instead and cultivate my own little garden to make up for the park I won't go to anymore. I might even get to invite some friends to that garden. Honestly, most of the time I'm some weird forest hermit who only comes out sometimes to haunt the park, and I think that's just fine as well. Engage with fandom in a way that makes you comfortable.

[serenescribe]

got tagged by @kimium in a music tag game here (thank you, kim!) and i figured i may as well get this post written before the next twst update drops tomorrow and permanently alters my brain chemistry q-q

rules: post 5 songs you actually listen to, and tag 10 of your followers/mutuals (except i def don’t have that many people to tag TT)

i freaking love music with all my heart and soul so uhh— time to tangent! under the cut. this got long. just scroll past if you didn’t follow me for this shit ahfndhgdgf

1. bathroom community by glass beach (pinkshift cover)

i stumbled upon this song earlier this year thanks to spotify (yes, i actually look at what they recommend! i need more songs!) and god. GOD. this song has held me in a choke hold since i first listened to it. i desperately want to create an oc from this song, or a story of some sort; the story it paints with its lyrics just has so much goddamn potential for a character.

i love singing this song, even if i can’t sing very well. it’s just a lot of fun, with how intense it is! plus the lyrics... god, the lyrics. i usually like to gravitate to songs with more vague lyrics, but something about this song really soothes that teenage version of me tucked away somewhere in my soul, still angsting about the world.

i think my favourite line is this one, in the second verse — “he said you’ll never be okay if you don’t come to your senses / with you, everything’s the end of the world.” though “flipping through a spiral notebook for some / sad, hopeless words to turn into a liturgy” slaps hard too.

2. everybody’s falling in love by *repeat repeat

oh, i have a fic idea i long to write with this one. actually, i have an oc story (which is its own thing i won’t talk about) based on this song, but i have a fic idea i want to write too. this song just evokes so much whimsy of people falling in love, a constant spiral of romance! and it brings to mind a soulmate au — except instead of soulmate marks already existing and being common knowledge, they just... suddenly appear. which leads to a spiral of people figuring it out, relationship drama — what if two people who were dating aren’t soulmates? people who were platonic who suddenly get marks for each other? who gets together? who doesn’t? i’unno, i’m like... relationship introspection extraordinaire. might be a silly idea now that i’ve typed it out, but it’d be fun.

ah— for the song itself... yeah, it’s light on the lyrics, but like i said, it’s whimsical! it’s fun! i love the announcement at the start to really set the scene — this is a stage, and people falling in love is the show for everyone’s entertainment. yeah, it’s just— it’s a fun song. i don’t have much else to say.

3. sex sells by lovejoy

oh... (longing sigh) this song.

i listen to it a lot whenever i’m in a depressed funk. it just resonates with me a lot; the lyrics remind me of being second place to someone else, of a relationship slipping, that kind of thing. actually, the fact that i haven’t listened to it as much lately is probably a sign of my improving mental health (HA!)

i conceived a fic au before based off this song before — for a different fandom, not twst. it’s kind of shelved, i might turn it into an oc story instead because i still like the concept. but the inspiration i drew from this song turned into a very complex introspection of a close relationship (think childhood friends to lovers) crumbling and shattering under jealousy, envy, et cetera, et cetera. wrote like, one short ficlet off that? never posted it, but i’m still happy with it.

ah... lyrics. yeah, this one’s obvious; my favourite line is “how’s it feel to be so loved yet so alone?”

4. poplar st. by glass animals

was struggling between a lot of songs (how do you expect me to pick just FIVE?!) but considering how a line from poplar st. is literally my blog title on my main... figured it was a no brainer to include it. i wish i could convey my thoughts and feelings on this song, but this is one of the very rare few songs where, if you asked me to tell you what i like about it, i’d be stumped.

i’m not good with identifying instruments or explaining any of that, but the almost dreamy atmosphere of poplar st. hooks me splendidly. the vocals fit beautifully, to the point where they blend with the music and almost seem hard to pick out. i like how the song seems to tinge with darkness and fragment as it goes on — both lyrically and musically. it just scratches a lot of itches for me. would love to try writing something based off it someday? might just be oc stuff though, given the lyrics.

lyrics... the whole chorus slaps. it’s so lovely. all the lines about flowers, and then “i am a true romantic / free falling love addict” just tops it off beautifully <3

5. schoolin’ by everything everything

ah... hahaha.

not to sound cringe on main but if i had to ascribe a song to myself, it would be this one. my friends know — oh, they know — just how much schoolin’ resonates with me. if i divulged all my thoughts here, this post would turn into a criminally long essay, so i’ll exercise restraint for now.

like, i genuinely think this song permanently altered my brain chemistry. so much of it just resonate with me — the scathing observations, the metaphors slamming society, the absolute raging emotions in the voice of the singer, the resentment brimming just underneath. it’s a song about mistakes, it’s a song about learning from them or not, it’s a song about conformity and education and straying or conforming to it. it’s a song about questioning the world and ripping apart the people who are too scared to do so. it’s a wickedly poetic song once you rip apart and dissect every little bit of the lyrics, and i fucking love it with all my heart and soul.

too many lyrics in this song. and yet i have always known my favourite lines. “so learn me anything good / and teach me something that works.” there’s something about that that clicks with me so deeply. a single, scathing request: let me learn anything useful at all, and teach me something that can work for me.

also shoutout to the entire coda (outro) of the song for being the best 1m 50s of my life.

tagging: @llondonfog @olivebranch311 @pitruli @digdeepergravedigger09 @lakuronekobaka @pixelfun20 @reubeam @0rchidm4ntis (cheating? by also tagging friends who follow my main but not this sideblog? sue me. also i hope y’all are ok w being tagged in this HGFNDHGDF sorry if youre not ;;; just ignore if that’s the case)

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Round 2 Part 1 (5/8)

Propaganda under the cut!

SHEN JIU

YES he abused a child and killed an entire manor of people, but it was probably only one child and allegedly the people sucked. Surely this is not behavior deserving of being turned into a human stick or having your body possessed by a weeb. I love him because sometimes mean people are fun and also who can resist a good redemption tale (he deserves one).

BENNY GECKO

The first thing that happens in new vegas is that benny fucking shoots your character in the face, steals your shit and leaves you in an open grave. Benny is by all accounts a bastard. He kills you, steals from you, he killed his last boss, he is the single most duplicitous man around. His gang are all about honesty- except him. He's a lying, cheating bastard. The guys who helped him catch you? He skipped on paying them and left them to get shot to death. His new boss, mr.house? He stole his robot, broke it open, got someone to reprogram it and decided to use it to TAKE OVER THE WHOLE OF VEGAS. Benny literally kills people, lies to people, steals their shit and takes charge. That's all benny does. He gets fucking CRUCIFIED if you don't help him out just because so many people fucking hate him. And yet. And yet. Benny is the single most compelling character in the whole game to me. He's just a little guy! He's just there! You can get shot in the head and come back and he goes "what in the goddamn" and then if you try and flirt with him he's like "uhhh sure? Okay?" And leaves you a polite note in the morning. He's fancy. He wears a stupid suit. He has a tiny gun with shitty bullets. He's catholic. He talks like an old timey news presenter. Literally nobody else in the entire game does that. He's got an intelligence of 3. He's my funtime boy. My silly little man. He's so funny. The antagonist in this game is a guy dressed like a tablecloth who looks at all times like a confused dog who doesn't understand what a tv is. And like. He's compelling. He robs from you, shoots you, but…. he never seems to actually wish you harm. He kills and robs and lies but like. He apologises for doing it to you. When he sees you again he doesn't attack you, he's just… confused. He tries to defuse the situation. You can convince him to talk to you, alone, with no guards and it's not that hard. If you spare his life, he doesn't go after you, like. Even if you sleep with him he doesn't take advantage of that and kill you, even if you try to. He… he just leaves. He gives you an apology. If he gets kidnapped by Caesar He just… apologizes again. He tells you his whole plan to take over the city, too. He thinks he'll die, and he wants something of him to survive. He's happy that you made it. And if you let him free, he just… leaves. He knows he's beat, he doesn't want to cause any more trouble. He walks out and leaves. The NCR will kill you if you cross them. The legion will crucify you. House? He'll blow you the fuck up. But benny, the guy who lies and cheats and schemes, he's honest. He's polite. He's… harmless. You can kill him with a single shot if you want. And he can't kill you. He doesn't kill you the first time, and he'll never really hurt you again. Benny just wanted to win. When he knows he's beat he just leaves. No lingering, no harm, he's off, off into the desert heat, and never seen again. Isn't that just insane? like have you ever known an antagonist so polite? He just leaves!! He offers you a drink!! His plan is genuinely probably the best one for the people of new vegas!!! He's. Benny is Benny.

Anyway if you want to see some REAL propaganda go to the blog @letmebegaytodd and look in the #benny tag. You'll Understand < https://www.tumblr.com/letmebegaytodd/717051175751614464/in-another-life-i-wouldve-really-liked-just> <- look at this shit man

[thegeminisage]

tng update time and oooooh am i ever mad about it. tonight we watched "hero worship" and "violations."

hero worship: i wanted to like this episode. but, firstly, it's just yet more evidence why children should not be on starships. this has been bothering me the entire time i've watched this fucking show. i hope there aren't any kids on voyager or whatever because this is literally fucking killing me

secondly, i felt really weird about everyone just...going along with this kid's idea that he was an android. i feel like there's a way to be lenient of his trauma without reinforcing the delusion or whatever sorry ik that's not how you're supposed to say it. it just didn't seem like solid therapeutical practice is all. i will admit there was also some secondhand embarrassment watching this kid's impersonation of data but i think it COULD have been cute (which seems to be what they were going for) with a better execution

i DEFINITELY think data's interactions with him should have been supervised too, not because i don't love and trust data wholly but because he has this way of missing certain emotional cues. and while that isn't a problem in day-to-day life, like, that's just the way he is and i resent anyone who would make him feel like it's a bad way to be/there's something wrong with him because he is PERFECT the way he is!!! for someone who is so vulnerable i think that data could accidentally do harm where it isn't intended (almost did a couple of times!), and data wouldn't be happy about that either because of course it would never be his intention. like i LOVE episodes where we just throw data into the deep end and let him figure it out, i love watching him go, but this is a child whose entire family/ship just DIED HORRIBLY who thinks he is responsible for the event. im not saying dont let data be his buddy data deserves so many buddies im just saying give data some INSTRUCTIONS at least. for both their sakes

anyway it was mid at best. it had a few good moments but ultimately not enough to salvage it for me

violations:

okay wait hold on i feel like i need to start a brand new text block for violations. you're only allowed 4000 characters per paragraph and i have stuff to say. i have Things To Get Off My Chest. please picture steam pouring from my fucking ears right now

actually forget the bullet list i don't need a bullet list this is not a normal liveblog Post. do you know every day i see threads on r*ddit and sometimes even tags here on tunglr dot edu about how people don't like tos because it's sexist. thats all well and fine and good. tos IS sexist. ARE WE SAYING TNG IS BETTER?????

tasha yar and the rape gangs. the naked time: 2! where both women got turned into insatiable sex object. deanna's impromptu and nonconsensual pregnancy. tasha's impregnantion by rape and her death at the hands of her rapist. that time they filmed deanna's feet. beverly crusher for all of season 1 having absolutely no personality outside of being a mother. lwaxana troi getting gang raped by ferengi for laughs. genuinely uhura on tos in the fucking 1960s got treated better than deanna troi on tng in the 1990s. yes tos has extremely bad moments sexism wise. JUSTICE for janice fucking rand. but truly how can you be as sexist against women when they aen't there. meanwhile, tng has women in every goddamn episode and all it takes is for one bad writer to

actually you know what is so funny. gene roddenberry and two women are credited with writing this episode. ALL of them are going to hell, gene roddenberry especially. i hate hate hate HATE his rape fetish. justice for janice rand AND tasha yar AND DEANNA TROI!

the thing about this episode is, it could have been good. there were good parts about it. for example: worf's joke about being probed. they knew what they were doing and it was hilarious. deanna getting to talk about her overbearing mother. riker's little speech to deanna when she was in the coma with literal tears in his eyes and this is a WHOLE separate rant but

my problem with tng is that you don't see them care about each other. we're TOLD that they care about each other. they SAY, "oh, x is worried about [character who's in danger this week]." but we almost never SEE them act it out. every once in awhile riker gets weirdly protective of picard, and worf seems kind of protective of everyone which i like, and picard also does a good righteous rage on behalf of others, but i don't usually get to SEE it. like when wesley goes missing or whatever he and his mom don't always immediately rush into each others arms on their reunion. when deanna passes out you don't always see riker abandon what he's doing and rush to her side. nobody asks "are you okay?" with genuine concern. and even when we DO get for example geordi driving himself crazy wondering what went wrong over data's fake death we don't get any follow-through - there's no reunion between geordi and data at the end the way there would be for kirk and spock.

BUT RIKER AT THE HOSPITAL BED. ohhh i was eating. it was so good. he wasn't even saying anything of merit but just the SIGHT of her passed out like that had him almost in tears. riker, who is the epitome of good humor and dealing with space horrors with laughter. IN TEARS. it was so good. a true show instead of tell moment. and in THIS fucking episode

my issue is: they had three on screen rape scenes. the first rape scene was extremely long. like they couldn't show anything explicit because this is 90s tv but it was VERY VERY LONG so it hardly seems to matter. and THAT was bad enough. but then they made us watch it AGAIN when he planted his dad's face in the memory and A THIRD TIME when he was like "ugh she's being so sweet to me even though i raped her i can't NOT rape her again." like at least that time she was able to hit him and get away but it feels like a hollow victory when he's already gotten away with it TWICE, AND!!! when worf had to come in and save her anyway at the end.

it was doubly horrible that he got away with the crime SO WELL that nobody suspected him - like, picard is out here asking deanna to let him into her mind a second time and she GOT RAPED. A SECOND TIME. deanna is like oh yeah you can come in! and it could have been a compelling mystery and plot twist to be like OH IT'S THE DAD but really it's the son except we SAW HIM DO IT the first time. there wasn't even any mystery to solve or anyone to suspect, he wasn't misdirecting US, we just got to watch him successfully misdirect this poor stupid naive trusting WOMAN

also, the thing about deanna's attack being a rape scene while riker's was someone dying under his command and beverly's was IDing her husband's dead body is that for riker and bev these are REAL THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO THEM. deanna never got raped by riker. like, he wouldn't do that and they wouldn't still be as close and comfortable with one another if he had. (i am mad on his behalf TWICE now that they left it open whether or not he committed that particular crime when every other piece of evidence says he wouldn't. the guy is not a closet serial rapist and leaving the endings open to be edgy is extremely poor form.) like, they literally JUST made deanna's attack a rape scene to sexualize her and feed roddenberry's fetish and HE'S DEAD. HE WAS DEAD WHEN THIS AIRED. HE CAN'T JERK OFF TO IT ANYMORE

they didn't even explain why that guy kept leaving people in comas. deanna i get because he was stalking her and wanted to fuck her but why riker? why beverly? that made it MORE suspicious. why all those other people on the other planets? was he raping every single one of them? how did he plan to keep going after he'd framed his dad for his crimes?

and it COULD HAVE BEEN GOOD. beverly's thing with IDing her husband's body was fun and terrifying. deanna could have gotten a memory that spoke to character development instead of being sexualized like this. in fact i think it was lowkey a pussy move not to deal with any of riker's close encounters because of the two of them riker is the one who has actually been raped! "someone died under my command" is generic and lame. but the way the telepathy worked was cool, the plot twist could have been cool, you could have felt real betrayal from liking this dude if he hadn't been all evil smiles from the beginning. and they dropped the ball SO HARD. and i could forgive them for doing that! i have given tng so many benefits of the doubt! BUT THREE RAPE SCENES IN 45 MINUTES?

the worst part is, there was no emotional resolution. they had that guy say the word rape out loud and then the credits rolled. deanna and riker didn't speak one word to each other. she was never like, i know you didn't actually rape me like that's not what happened. no one was like, beverly go have a hot drink and call your son. there's NO EMOTIONAL FOLLOWTHROUGH ON THIS SHOW. tos was guilty of that sometimes too but this level of it is fucking unreal

tng enjoyers im sorry for my meanie posts earlier. love who you love etc etc. i'm just. baffled. HOW IS THIS BETTER THAN TOS. at least what happened to janice rand (and uhura one time) was over quickly and didn't replay three FUCKING times!!! "tos is too/more sexist" I AM TURNING MY BRAIN INSIDE OUT TO TRY AND UNDERSTAND THIS FUCKING STATEMENT

[bettimbellis]

A Collage (of Yelling)

I saw someone do something like this to advertise their fic- they linked the fic, and then put in a little collage of various comment snippets. I can’t find the post to show off- someone please do let me know if you’ve seen that, I want to credit them. 

Either way, my Hollow Knight post-Black-Egg-Temple fic (linked here) has 209 comment threads on it. I’ve gone through and found some bits. These bits were mostly chosen for entertainment/intrigue value out of context- a lot of my favorite comments didn’t get in. 

Got some good reviews there, I think. Anyone wanna see the collection I have of Discord screenshots from folks yelling at me about this fic?  (Seriously though, thank all of y’all who comment, yell in the tags, whatever- I love it. Really helps keep the writing muse going, too.)

Image descriptions below the cut. 

[Image ID: a collection of bits of text placed on a light green background, in several groups. Text is as follows. 

Excuse me who gave you the right to hit me with this line at seven in the morning”, with an arrow pointing to the left. also it feels like there are many things to be concerned about lmao  God, Hollow is such a poor baby. A lanky wet cat left in the rain. Hollow, that feeling is love, dear, no need to feel so confused about it. Hornet, my sad dumb little spider baby, go to bed. in summary holy shit this is fucked sounds like stressTM can these characters stop being so relatable good Lird *smacks my face* Hornet. Hornet. the fuck HOLY FUCKING SHIT [all caps] It was so soft!!!! And then it became *so goddamn angsty-* *squints harder*  Wet rag is my new favorite character. *thunks my head on a wall* Gosh darn it Oro course you had to have integrity But also OW MY HEART?! SHATTERED?1 POOR BABY HOLLOW IM GONNA CRY Gosh dang. The last chapter was a little lighter, but apparently you were just holding back for this one.  (Chp. 3) I stg this whole chapter made my emotions whip back and forth between “awww :)” and “awwh :(” and “oh. Oh no baby do not think like that”.  Augh. just, augh. / ...except that bit at the end. ...except that last sentence, ‘cause, yeah. / *hides face in hands* this has been exhausting for everyone, apparently. Hollow knight or: when you are so touch starved that your standards for touch that you want are somewhere in the abyss that has spawned you.  Whatever the FUCK happened in the last section is Oh Lord Oh God What The Heeeeeellll Ohhhh My Goood No Waaayyyy... Will be waiting for the next chapter STARING at ao3...

i was so relieved to read this that i accidentally put my phone in airplane mode trying to respond “it is startled out of its pleasant memory-” pLEASANT???? PLEASANT!?! Hollow no. HOLLOW NO- / why does this for some reason almost feel like fluff.  My urge to keysmash at you is strong Just. God. Everything about this is so fucked in so many ways.

Something about this line just makes me want to. Maybe stab the king in the chest. Repeatedly. And then throw them off a bridge. Idk Actually many things about this chapter make me want to stab the king in the chest repeatedly and then throw them off a bridge. Because *holy shit* Hollow, honey, you have so much trauma. OMG ghost, what have you done [stressed emoji] Okay then. Well. Um. That’s a lot to happen.  God it’s such a mess Ah yes, the eldritch nonsense trying to approximate a living creature, my beloved PK you ass. PK you absolute ASS get over here I wanna hit you with something heavy-  oh / im immediately punched in the face okay thank you for that Right off the bat I am mildly excited about this chapter solely because you played with text formatting and that makes my serotonin levels rise. I don’t know why but thank you for that.  CONFUSION SOUP I’M FHDHDJFKFKGH I wanna join the cuddle pile :<<< let me in [holding Hollow gently in both hands] / I will get you all the fresh-dirt-scented soap Fucking superb you funky little vessels. Oh boy! Spiraling!

Oh this chapter hurts ‘specially bad. Because it wasn’t enough to be possessed and neglected and quite literally tortured and driven insane, now we gotta have more medical issues and amnesia-  I fuckign cried at this one, oh my god. Pain is always a tearjerker, but it’s nothing compared to someone who’s been in pain so long finally getting that first big moment of *realizing they’re wanted* and *heard* and *healing*  And I gotta say, (this is gonna sound bad) I really do love Hollow’s victim blaming. Or how it’s written. I love how you write characters in pain <333 “Oh, just a quick chapter to read before bed,” I thought to myself. “I will enjoy it and feel a normal and manageable level of emotions about it.” / ...Thanks for making me all teary in the wee hours, now I’ll never get to sleep! (...I mean this as praise.) Oh. Oh Hollow. So wrapped up in the need to be useful. So incapable still of seeing that their own gut-wrenching familial love might be returned in kind, whether they have some designated purpose for their existence or not.  Yeah. Relieved. / Oh, Hollow... You have already left kudos here :) [three times] / Have I ever been told the definition of insanity?  honestly the body horror was the /least/ disturbing thing in this chapter. not to say! that it was not disturbing - even then, less the horror and more the. context. i want to punch TPK. into a lake. that is on fire.

First comment of my first reread, and MAN. This opening hits just as hard the second time.  Keep in mind Hollow Knight was made by Australian people Hollow 100% deserves a nice date at the palace if they so wish. anyway, I feel very emo about Hollow, all the time.  HOLLOW IS LETTING THEMSELVES HAVE WILL, LET’S GOOOOOO Ghost is doing Fine:tm:, Hornet is doing Fine:tm:, Hollow is *actually* doing pretty well Good news! Hollow is an emotional wreck!  Hornet is doing sooo normal right now (lying).

TLDR; amazing story, glorious update, poor Grimm, I Am Desperate For Shield Lore, someone please tell Ghost it isn’t their fault, the entire gaggle of siblings needs a group hug, I Am Going To Put The Pale King’s Corpse Through A Shredder, and Hornet needs another good cry. 

anyways fuck you for writing this keep it up

[applecherry108]

Asking about your VLD rewrite

Blessed be the anon that reads my tags. 🙏

SO,,

First and foremost, black Paladin Lance endgame. Klance endgame. Shiro and Curtis endgame, but Adam is alive and we give Curtis an actual personality and character arc. Allura's not dead, Lotor is good, probably something about whatsherface (the witch).

Alright alright alright, SO,,, Lance is the youngest of his family. His family that suspiciously looks like the other paladins. So in this rewrite, Lance is used to being the mastermind and the scape goat. Siblings want cookies? Lance makes a plan. Mama catches them? Lance takes the dive. You know. Real leadership qualities from a young age.

Cut to the first episode. Lance takes the dive for him, Pidge, and Hunk flunking the flight simulator. Iverson still compares him to Keith. We then cut to Lance at the shooting range, absolutely killing it (so his sharpshooting doesn't come so out of left field). Boom, Veronica's there to give him a pep talk. NOW we can go back to later that night, Lance trying to cheer up Hunk by sneaking out, coming across Pidge yada yada yada.

We're rescuing Shiro now. Keith doesn't remember Lance which INFURIATES him, and we'll learn several seasons later in a flashback that Lance started the whole rivalry to keep Keith out of trouble. He was getting into too many fights with James and was going to get expelled, but Lance, who looked up to Shiro, knew how important Keith's success was to him, so he steps in to play a role. To divert Keith's attention and keep him from fighting James.

And Keith doesn't remember him. AFTER ALL HE DID FOR—

Anyway.

Blah blah blah, Pidge wants to leave, Pidge decides to stay, "PIDGE IS A GIRL?!" Spoiler: Pidge is a transgirl. Later that night, Lance goes to Pidge's room to apologize, that he shouldn't have reacted that way. And is it really okay to keep calling her Pidge? What?, she says. Well, says Lance, communal showers at the Garrison... He just doesn't want to use the wrong name. Pidge tears up. No no, that's just a nickname Matt gave her, but... It wouldn't hurt to call her Katie every now and then. Tearful hug. Big Brother Figure Established.

Alright, I'll be honest, I do not fucking remember a lot of vld. So, uhhh...... skip skip skip, fuck it, we'll keep Shiro clone because it aids one of my plot points. Oh right, Lance has a recurring dream of walking down a hallway with doors on either side and an open door at the end. When he was younger, he'd meet a man in that room, standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window looking out into space. Now he reaches to open that now-closed door and is awoken by another paladin. He's sleepwalked into the Lions' docking bay. This keeps happening.

They decide to try out for Black's paladin, Lance sits in there too long, a feeling right at his finger tips but just out of reach. Black still appears to choose Keith.

Blah blah blah Lotor And The Ladies™️, Shenanigans™️, Shiro's suddenly back, Keith absolutely fucks off, Pidge goes looking for Matt and doesn't find him. Wholeass thinks he's dead (finds the grave) and we're going to sit with that trauma for a while, fuck you. (he's not dead, but I want this plot point to actually MATTER and not be resolved in 3 seconds).

Keith finds Krolia, AND WE'RE DOING TIME/GRAVITY CORRECTLY GODDAMN IT. So Keith is MIA for months. Voltron hasn't heard from him, the Blades haven't heard from him, but he eventually gets back and he thinks only a few days have past. BECAUSE IN INTENSE GRAVITY TIME MOVES SLOWLY FOR THE PERSON BUT LONGER FOR THE OBSERVER, FUCK YOU!!!!!

So he's NOT "mature" or "grizzled" but he's fucking mad. Gets back and still shoves Lance aside (Top Ten Anime Betrayals) and just wants to get down to business. He's brought a rando Altean with him, I straight up forget her name so we're calling her Blondie. They found Blondie in the whats-it-called, same as before. But she's the only Altean there and she tells them what Lotor's been up to (that's weird. that's SUSPICIOUS). Lotor suddenly goes coocoo-bananas and they fight, have a clone fight, why not.

Mostly the same, yada yada... While it pains me to still destroy the castle and have them get time warped 3 years, that part was Good, Actually. Terrible, worst writers you know made a good plot point. :/

Anyways, Keith's been jumpy and jittery, like he's waiting for something, and then it comes out that he was missing for MONTHS. What? No. He was only gone a few days! He had visions of the future even! .......The mental link. Connected. A handful of times. He was not seeing Future Visions, he was witnessing Current Events. Shiro had a complete breakdown, Pidge lost (and eventually found) her brother, Lance fucking DIED and he wasn't there for any of it. Here you go, Keith, have a crisis. Reevaluate some shit and FUCK YOU you aren't magically two years older.

We also learn that what limited Mother-Son time he and Krolia had in the void place, he learned how and why she went to Earth, how she met his father, and the real reason she left (surprise! he has a twin and it's Acxa). And he still gets Kosmo. Because puppy.

That Thing with Big Butch Lady and Red Lady, except Red Lady For Real dies and that thing that happens in the final season actually makes sense now. Lance is feeling fucking useless and can feel his connection with the Red Lion dwindling. Stuff stuff stuff, things things things... Interpersonal Drama comes to a head in the gameshow episode. Lance doesn't bomb the Name-That-Alien game—he gets too mad to say Rolo fast enough, No he can't name every masked generic Blade, and he refuses to deadname Pidge/Katie. The question at the end becomes not who should leave, but who should STAY? If they can all pick someone to stay, the rest can go. The others all refuse to vote because the power of friendship no one left behind or whatever. Lance votes for himself. Because this is a war. You put your best soldiers forward. The others are shocked! Blindsided! Bob grills him--is this really what you want? Lance responds by saying not voting is like a vote for everyone to stay. Bob gives him a knowing and confirming Look. So yes, Lance chooses to stay.

Lance gets zapped away and the others get a Stern Talking To. They come back to their Lions to find Lance in a panic on the comms. Confused and Scared and Alone. Everyone chimes in all at once, Kosmo zaps Keith over to Red (and then every one else). Hugs, apologies, healing. Boom, the Lions turn back on and we're back on our way to Earth.

We're back to Earth, Lions tucked away on a moon. Adam's alive! Joyous day—oh shit he is PISSED at Shiro. Not the warm welcome he expected. At ALL. In this version, Adam is not a fellow pilot, he's a medical officer, and Dammit Jim! he's not just anyone's doctor, he's your doctor, Shiro! And his boyfriend! And Takashi "Give Me Glory or Give Me Death" Shirogane ignored Dr. Boyfriend's strong medical advice to NOT FUCKING GO ON THAT MISSION. So sure, he's happy to seem him back and alive and well, but since he's okay, Adam's going to be mad at him. Because he thought he'd died! For years! And how could he do that to him?! They will continue to fight for the remainder of the team's time on Earth.

We're also introduced to Curtis who, no shit, in canon, was the comms officer that reached out to Matt for Mr. Pidge's Dad (I don't remember anybody's name, sorry). And if the jury will recall, those open communications are how the Galra located Earth. This man is bearing the guilt of the entire invasion on his shoulders because he made those transmissions. And he and Shiro get a bunch of scenes together to develop their relationship.

Stuff happens, blah blah blah, hey remember that scene in canon? Where they call their Lions and they all appear lickity-split? Except, in canon, Red doesn't respond to Lance right away? And he nearly dies? And it's never fucking explained? Well it's getting fucking explained now. After all that jazz, while they're recovering, Lance confesses what happened with Red to Keith. Keith already knows. Because Keith called Red. And it just confirms to Lance that he's lost his place on the team. That with Shiro back to take over Black again, he's not needed. He decides to leave the team, but he hasn't told anyone yet.

Anyways, I know I haven't been talking about Allura. That's because I've forgotten all the things I wanted to do with her, but her and Hunk have been having their own solo adventure stories and developing their character arcs this whole time too, just don't ask me what that is. They're important. They're not just the love interest and comic relief. But I'm clearly here for Lance content, so...

Post-battle, ready to go back to space. Pidge makes that comment about the cartoon, how Keith and Allura get together. Lance has an irritated only sort-of reaction. Hey, it's their last day on Earth. The others think they're all leaving tomorrow (Lance still hasn't told them he's staying). He invites Allura to have lunch with his family, since she doesn't have anyone else to spend this time with. She declines, she and Blondie are doing research on that Altean-slash-battery person. That's fine, he understands. He runs into Keith. Keith? What're you doing here? Why aren't you spending time with—shit, not family but like....Shiro and Adam? Keith laughs awkwardly and talks about how those two are still fighting and no thanks, he does not want any part of that. Lance invites him to lunch with his family.

Remember all those soft looks Keith always gave Lance in canon? That amounted to nothing? Well here's some more, and they actually mean something now. And My God, does Keith eat up being in a large chaotic family setting. It's like all he's ever wanted was to be surrounded by people that love him.

Anyways, nothing explicitly romantic happens, but on their way back (there's a big going away party at the garrison), Lance finally confides in Keith that he's not leaving. Keith.exe stops working. And while he's having this mental meltdown Lance asks him not to tell the others, that he wants to tell them himself at the party. Keith respects his decision.

At the party, he decides to tell Shiro first. And boy howdy is Shiro blasted. Absolutely smashed off his ass. Lance gets to have a conversation with a way-too-honest drunk Shiro. Firstly, he and Adam officially broke up. Because duh, Shiro's going back to space and that was Adam's ultimatum. Hence, alcohol. Second, when Lance tells him he's not leaving, drunk Shiro gets really emotional for some reason and starts apologizing. Apparently, when Keith made fighter pilot and Lance didn't, that was Shiro. Lance was supposed to be promoted (Keith's issues with authority were holding him back), but Shiro, as a high ranking officer, overruled that decision. He goes on to talk about how he projected onto Keith. That he saw himself in him, and he wanted to give this kid every opportunity that Shiro wouldn't get because that disease or whatever was supposed to put him in an early grave. He projected all his dreams onto this gifted orphan kid, that he never really considered what Keith wanted. Keith didn't care about going to space or being a pilot, he just wanted to be somewhere where he belonged, where he could help others. He never wanted to be leader.

Shiro takes a big chug of booze.

Black chose Lance. When he was stuck in the astral plane, bound to the Black Lion, Black tried to choose Lance and Shiro overruled that decision. Just like he overruled his promotion in school. Because Shiro wanted Keith to have what Shiro wanted, everyone else be damned.

Lance is shocked. He doesn't know what to think. Is he mad? Is he relieved?

Sidebar, bc idk where else to put this, that hallway dream I mentioned before? It was Lance connecting with the Lions. When he goes into any other door he has a moment of, Is that Allura? Oh wait, it's his sister Rachel on the beach they grew up next to. Is that Pidge in the garden? No it's Veronica. Etc etc. And each time Lance will say he wants to stay there with his loved one. They smile sadly, tell him they'd love for him to stay, but he doesn't belong there. What I failed to mention before is that we actually see Lance pilot every Lion at some point. Blue and Red sure, but Green to save Pidge and Yellow when Hunk was in danger. Lance can pilot every Lion. Here's that twist: Lance is Voltron. There is no Voltron without Lance. Here's where we loop in why his siblings look like the other paladins--because it's Lance's connection to them that makes them paladins. It's their dynamics. Lance could technically deem anyone worthy to be a paladin, but unconsciously or not, it's all him. Allura was meant to have Blue right out of the gate. Because Lance can connect to any Lion, that's why he was able to pilot Blue at first. But there was a communication error, and Allura called Shiro the leader, and because Lance agreed and looked up to him, the Lions accepted it too. It's not until Shiro "dies" and gets tied to Black and fucks with everything that that connection is disturbed. Why that door in his dream is suddenly closed. Shiro overruled Black and the Lions sent Lance to Red since Allura was always meant to have Blue. Lance could pilot any of them but he's meant to be the Black Paladin.

Anyways,,, so drunk Shiro spills the beans, Lance takes his rightful place as leader and Keith goes back to the role that most befits his fucking character arc--support. Right hand man. Not the leader, but the one that's going to jump to help before anyone else. Fuck you, LM and JDS. And like, Lance the Strategist and Fuck You he was the de facto leader when Kuron was melting down and Keith was MIA anyway and he was GOOD AT IT I AM OWED FINANCIAL COMPENSATION—

Anyway.

Have I ever mentioned how I’ve only watched the final season once? In a single sitting? At midnight on my birthday when it was released in 2018? So my memory is foggy but my anger is real.

Surprise! Blondie is actually witch lady! (Which iirc was an actual twist in the original 80s cartoon). And psych!! It was HER altean death camp all along!! Lotor had nothing to do with it and she used her magic to make him lose his marbles and fight them! And god help me I cannot fucking remember what her canonical villain plot even was, so maybe she still went crazy and did some stupid multi-dimensional bullshit to get her family back. So then why kill Lotor before? Right, because he founded the Blades. He’s thousands of years old, and from a relatively young age was against the way his family was running things, so he started the Blades. He and Acxa were working undercover during all that s3/s4 nonsense. Witch lady finds that out and perceives it as a betrayal. Kills him, wants to start fresh with a younger, more impressionable son.

Again, she nearly fucks all of existence but the gang stops her just in time. Allura tries to sacrifice herself but free-from-quintessence-poisoning witch saves fuck that, you’ve lost enough. And cleans up her own damn mess her own damn self.

Universe saved, galra home world unfucked, lotor no longer a quintessence mummy, but no Altea. Altea is GONE but galra world was mostly still there. A bunch of alteans-in-hiding finally come out of the woodwork, and the ones from the quint farm are free. Blondie is still not a real person, though.

The lions do not fuck off to god knows where, allura is alive, lotor is at her side, and that ties up all the main threads or whatever, and we get to end with universal peace and the defender of the universe is still out there doing good, dismantling the remains of the empire which, without the quint-poisoned overlords, is not all that much of a dire threat. They’re still an empire that’s done war crimes, but at least there’s no more giant monsters, y’feel?

Oh right, I’m missing a part in the middle—remember that alt dimension episode in like s3? With evil alteans? Yeah that, but with explicit Evil Quint-Crazed Immortal Allura and Resistance Leader Lotor. Like. Explicit foreshadowing. It’s also meant to bridge the gap of Allura making peace with Keith being galra and the start of keith being vulnerable around Lance, so.

It’s been 5 years and I’m still mad, but it’s been 5 years and my memory is not so great so ta-da, that’s the gist of my fuck-you-Lance-is-the-main-character rewrite. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[geffenrecords]

hi.......can u tell me abt ur ocs..what r their names

ohjeez...thank you for asking um...ihave so many its bad but ill tell you about my favs hehe.

heres a quick ref to the main guys but honestly just looks through like. my ocs/art tag (grayling) to see more of themi post a lot of stuff abt them always. ummm theyre not tHAT interesting honestly their whole universe thing is super weird and ill explain it in a minute but these guys just kind of are like. annoying ass highschoolers and they have like a deep thing about them all doing drugs and blah blah based off some personal and people experiences. but the main thing is theyre all just so difficult to be around because theyre so annoying and awful. chloe and henry have been best friends since middle school and they love and hate each other so much. sully and chloe r 4lifers bffs. chloes just like. idk, so whiney and kind of an ass but shes probably my favorite ever...sully is quieter hes actually like. a nice guy to be around LOL. he just chooses to hang outwith them. shame. henry is all bug eyed and his brains a little fried and has a stutter/eye twitches and gendr issues so hes awesome....hes best friends with chloes little sister ren which i think is very cute.

UMM their story gets weird because um. well taps my fingers together nervously. okay like a year or two ago this friend i had at the time and i both got.SUPER into the diary of a wimpy kid movies in a completely unironic way and we made. a story. for rodricks little band. which is an entirely separate thing on their own but the worst part is its too personal for me to every really let go and also its funny. and in all honesty i could get away with saying theyre ocs but i wont. not yet anyways.

but last year i made these joke posts about chloe and kitty (girl we made up to be the bass players girlfriend) being friends and going to raves together but it became such a big part of chloes character unm....im so obsessed with them they have a little romance and its sweet. but after they break up she goes to chris and chloe is like goddamn. that fucking band henry and i made hate pages for online is like world famous now and also kitty is dating one of them. i hate my lfie. so theyre connected becos both are so near n dear to my heart 👍this is just kinda me scratching the surface but i figure its enuf

[dittolicous]

I've been thinking a lot about the whole purity culture struggle thing re: incest/twincest because of submas and while I absolutely get the issue of slippery slope censorship + how dark topics are not inherently bad, I feel like a lot of the issues people have in incest ships isn't neccarily with the actual incest portion, but actually the constant denial & erasure of deep platonic love, yet all shipper focus on is censorship or antis or 'being too sensative' etc...

for example, every goddamn year around Christmas people roll out the 'incest folgers commercial' and every goddamn year I have to practice my breathing so as to not lose my shit because why the fuck can a little sister not love her damn brother and be elated to see him again? why does that mean she wants to fuck him? why are we okay with belittling familial relationships, demanding they only show their love in a certain way?

just because you don't have that kind of relationship with your sibling doesn't mean no one does.

this can also be seen in found families and/or adopted families, as well as nonconforming queer-platonic relationships. so why is it not something to be had and acknowledged in creations?

another example is the batfam (aka the Waynes & co). despite Bruce CANONICALLY adopting various robins/sidekicks, people constantly deny they're siblings, shipping them with each other. and even with Bruce.

because 'it's not by blood'. because oh, whats the platonic explanation for such-and-such?

because platonic love is only allowed to be shown in one way, and if they do otherwise, if they consider them just as important, well clearly they're in ~romantic~ love.

its.... really demoralizing to say that if you care about someone a little too much, that means you want to fuck them. that's how we build a society that is lonely, divided, and lacking in a loving community, because the only love we put credit in is single, romantic love.

the tier list of relationships isn't 'romantic partner > family > friends'. in a better world, they're all equal to a point and given proper attention to sustain a healthy relationship altogether. just like gender or autism, love is a spectrum that we shouldn't demand conformity of.

and, ok, how does this relate back to submas?

I think a lot of the b-----kshippers really don't understand just how upsetting and even triggering it can be to have them interact with non-shipping stuff.

like... how many people base their work on their own siblings, on things they've experienced in their family? so a person make a submas comic or fic based on a memory with their own siblings. they're happy, want to share it, and we'll of course creators want to see what others think of their creations!

until they see tags or comments about how 'there's no platonic explanation' or how 'in love' they are or, hell, even just the simple tag noting the ship.

on a piece created after a real-life experience with their sibling.

that can shift the entire vibe, not only of the work and characters, but also the creator. now they're having their family relationship twisted & denied. will they stop creating for these characters? will they pull away from their siblings so no one ever claims they love them in that way?

idk

I know that in my own writing, I constantly stop and question how close i make Ingo and Emmet, how their relationship may be viewed, despite it all being written 100% platonic. and it's agitating that I struggle with that, because it makes me feel so utterly gross that people look at what I make and deny that any other love is possible.

that also comes through in how I interact with creations of others, because I do not want to accidentally interact with something that twists platonic love languages or denies them. and i think people who ship such things demand understanding for their 'whys' without stopping to consider that maybe these 'antis' have reasons beyond 'ew incest taboo!'

what can we do? again, idk. censorship isnt..isn't... something im down with. but I think that those who do ship it need to be just as critical of how they interact with it and the fandom at large, because they impact our art just as much as we impact theirs.

there is a time and place for all creations.

don't act like disliking or wanting no interaction with them makes them pathetic or... whatever. you have your reason, we have ours. a trigger is still a trigger, even if the trauma it comes from is the menial yet constant societal pressure for romance to trump all other relationships.

so please look critically at how you interact with others too. don't view my stuff as bl------shipping. just... block me and move on. or whatever.