#saying that the characters are on point like no!!?? they are not???!!

[prokopetz]

You've talked before about how "generic" ttrpg systems still contain hidden assumptions about genre, story, playstyle, etc. (e.g. gurps and military scifi/fantasy) how do you figure out what those assumptions are? what should you look for in the rules to find them?

That's a fairly involved question for which a full answer is beyond the scope of a Tumblr post (even my notoriously long-winded ones!), but I find that a good place to start is with the "who gives a shit?" principle.

For example, suppose that the first piece of mechanically significant information on a game's character sheet is a statistic called "Strength", rated on a scale from one to ten.

Who gives a shit?

That is, why do we care how strong player characters are? Why do we care about having a definite, codified answer at our fingertips to the question of which characters are stronger than other characters, to a fair degree of precision? Why does any of this matter? What assumptions are we making about the nature of the conflicts that will be present within the game's narrative?

That's a fairly trivial case, but the principle can be extended to more fundamental features of a game's rules. Let's consider the classic Dungeons & Dragons style skill check, for example: roll a die, add a stat, compare to a target number, pass or fail. What assumptions are we encoding about the nature of conflict in this game?

Well, for a start, these assumptions might include:

The assumption that generating binary pass/fail outcomes for performing discrete physical, mental and social tasks is how most conflicts will be resolved;

The assumption that your game will benefit from these outcomes having a high degree of player-facing uncertainty;

The assumption that your game will benefit from this uncertainty containing a relatively high likelihood of complete failure;

The assumption that your game will benefit from the principal determinant of that likelihood of failure being some intrinsic and objectively measurable attribute of the acting character;

... and so forth.

If you're only familiar with Dungeons & Dragons and its very close imitators, these may seem like things you have to assume in order to have a functioning game, but there are a fairly specific set of conventions being expressed here. Why do we care about any of these things? Who gives a shit?

Even the first bullet point can easily be knocked down: one can imagine, for example, a game which simply assumes players can always choose to have their characters succeed at anything it's within the realm of possibility for them to do, and whose rules instead focus on providing a codified game-mechanical answer to the question of what that success will cost them, with the only uncertainty being whether the player is willing to pay that cost.

It's clear that a game which approaches conflict resolution in this way is expressing a strong set of genre assumptions. The trick is recognising that the industry-standard alternative (i.e., the D&D-style skill check) is equally laser-focused on a specific set of genre assumptions, in a way that's often rendered invisible by how common it is.

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying there isn't a simple checklist you can go down to identify a game's genre assumptions. But then, I warned you way up in the opening sentence that this would be the case – I hope I've at least given you a place to start!

[fount-of-knowledge]

BEAST-YEAST EPISODE 8 SPOILERS

...okay so we can all agree that shadow milk has feelings for pure vanilla right?

i thought it was obvious since episode 7 that shadow milk doesn't hate pure vanilla. if he did and only cared about the soul jam, he would have killed pure vanilla or caused his death in some way. no, instead, he kept him to play around with him, and offered him a home in the spire, which is literally said to be unusual by candy apple and black sapphire (the two characters who are technically closest to him) so pure vanilla is a special case.

he's also notably happier interacting with pure vanilla than he is the other deceitful trio (based on the story & kingdom interactions)

to the point where this update gave us this very ugly but very elated sprite from shadow milk used exclusively when he's with pure vanilla

because apparently shadow milk has been bored all the time without pure vanilla!! he's been bored so much that black sapphire can TELL when he's bored, and keep in mind, shadow milk is someone who masks his true emotions ALL THE TIME

of course, shadow milk's goal was to watch pure vanilla fall to deceit—but that's very clearly rooted in his desire to finally have someone who understands him.

the moment pure vanilla accepts deceit, and vows to spend eternity with shadow milk, shadow milk is immediately excited and happy, and they merge souls. shadow milk accepts pure vanilla as a part of him just like how he wanted pure vanilla to accept him.

(note that he says "us" and not "me". he fully intends to work with pv as partners lol)

and when pure vanilla finally awakens and reveals it was all a trick, shadow milk is CRUSHED. he calls pure vanilla a traitor, because he thought pure vanilla would actually join his side.

all this reads like he really, really wanted pure vanilla on his side. again, all of the toying with him to make him fall to deceit, and telling pure vanilla he understands, he's been there, so it's time for pure vanilla to accept his fate.

but, of course shadow milk is an extremely contradictory person; even though he wanted pure vanilla to understand him, he didn't ACTUALLY want pure vanilla to understand him. because when pure vanilla feels his loneliness and calls him out on it, shadow milk can't admit it, to himself or to pure vanilla. he can't admit that he longs for pure vanilla's company.

and pure vanilla longs for his company too! he accepts shadow milk and his deceit, and wants shadow milk to accept him too. it's a complete reversal of what shadow milk wanted to happen.

pure vanilla stretches his hand out to shadow milk, a peace offering, an offer for them to develop a relationship other than that of enemies.

and shadow milk HESITATES.

HE FUCKING HESITATES. i can't understate how crazy it is that shadow milk, for a split second, could have actually considered pure vanilla's proposal. the guy that has been shown to be nothing but ruthless and without morals Hesitates when pure vanilla asks to be his friend.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING WANTS TO BE PURE VANILLA'S FRIEND

HE WANTS HIS COMPANY!!! HE WANTS TO PLAY GAMES WITH HIM!!! HE WANTS TO BE BY PURE VANILLA'S SIDE SO BADLY

BUT HE CAN'T EMBRACE TRUTH THE WAY PURE VANILLA EMBRACES DECEIT. HE CAN'T STOP LYING TO HIMSELF AND EVERYONE AROUND HIM THAT HE DOESN'T WANT THIS AND THAT HE'S NOT LONELY, THAT HE HAS EVERYTHING HE EVER WANTED, THAT HE'S HAPPY.

HE'S NOT HAPPY!!!!!

HE'S NOT HAPPY WITHOUT PURE VANILLA BY HIS SIDE AND HE'S JUST NOW REALIZING IT!!!! AND NOW HE HAS TO PUSH HIM AWAY INSTEAD OF BEING HONEST!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't like this game Tbh

[fablerenown]

So, some clarifications here. A big part of making this post is pointing out how black people don't GET to be fae. I have seen hundreds of posts saying Hozier and Florence are fae gods, despite not taking any actions that could be considered fae; so much so that I thought about screenshotting some and adding them to this reblogs (but seeing as this post already got me a death threat, I didn't want to redirect that hate to potentially neurodivergent folks/minors/people who are both). That's why those bits are in quotes-- they're referencing other people.

Meanwhile, Kendrick changes the game constantly, carries a beef for 10+ years, wins a fucking Pulitzer and people just ignore him. I'm not saying we should blorbo him, I'm saying it's sus as hell that we ignore black artists entirely in these discussions. I will see people fancast magical characters of all kinds (but especially fae) as incredibly white. And before you say "fAe ArE wHiTe", I'm talking characters described as "dark as night" or with "skin like midnight" and they're at most they're a medium tan, or blue???

This lack of black fae is such an issue that we now have a whole day to celebrate black people as magical creatures: Black Fae Day. I first became aware of it back on TikTok, which is when this thought first started percolating. I was originally going to post it there after the Superbowl, but that app got taken over by racists, so here I am.

Anyways, the next Black Fae Day is May 10th, and I'm excited to see all the incredible looks and articles on here this year. They're also selling tickets to an event on their site, so if you're in Oregon and want to go maybe check that out!

Listen, I have seen many a posts to the tune of "Hozier is a fae god!" Or "Florence is a fae god!" And I am here to tell you that neither of them are fae gods. Paramours, probably, maybe members of an Entourage, but gods? No.

You want to know who an actual fucking fae god is???

Kendrick Lamar.

The pettiness. The creativity. The persuasiveness. The accuracy. He had 110 million people across the nation today singing "a minooooor" like it was fucking nothing. This man has cast a thousand-year curse on Aubrey Graham's bloodline that cannot be undone through mortal means.

Now, THAT is some fae god level shit.

[grubus]

Hi! do you have any svsss fic recs? I really like syonr and I'm curious about what you like to read!

*rubs hands together*

Alright alright. Now some of these are probably already well known, but still!!

I make no secret of this, but as Prim is my favorite author and very cool friend, I will HAPPILY recommend these first;

Masochism is probably THE qijiu fic of all time, absolutely adore it. It's set in their disciple era, with YQY just grabbing at whatever scraps he can even as SQQ tries to push the boundaries and see what will make him BREAK. So, so good. Happy ending!

Tarnished Gold is my favorite original Binghe fic, and I hope more people give it a chance. I think the summary scare some but it's GREAT! I love it! Binghe's thought process, the way someone perceives SY as GYX from an outside perspective, and omg LPM is such a great character in it...

of course I recommend basically everything Prim writes.

(Shen Yuan Voice) It's not gay if- by Nachtofthedead is porn. Just straight up modern time BingYuan porn. It is filthy and great and *thumbs up* love it. Bingge decides to play along with SY's delulu thoughts on gayness and everyone are happy.

The Many Trials and Tribulations of Ming Fan by The Feels Whale (miscellea) is great and I think often overlooked. A oneshot from MF's point of view on how to handle SQQ's wife beam, deeply funny to me. They also wrote-

Dust and Broken Grains , which is basically "Binghe discovers early that Crying Works" and it becomes a fix-it fic. but there's more to it than that!!! Love it a lot.

Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam is just. So good. SO GOOD. It's hilarious, it uses the System in a way few fics ever does and it has me cackling every time I read it.

What Is Seen by CaveteDracones is a fix-it with a side of whump fic, where SQQ's trial at HHP goes VERY differently. Truth serum! Torture! System Reveal! Yay!

Dual Cultivate or Date by acernor is THE BingLiuShen fic out there. Adore it. I'm sure many have already appreciated it, but it doesn't hurt to remind others that it exists!

A Child Once by Tossawary is a very, very good BingQiu and MoShang fic, and I honestly love not only BingQiu being forced to play parents, but also the MobeiBing friendship? Great, amazing. All the relationships in this is great, and I know most have heard of Tossawary but if you haven't given this specific fic a chance you SHOULD.

easy fix by airplanelanding (TheCourtSorcerer) is a smutty cumplane oneshot, where they are friends with benefits (approved by their husbands) for whenever said husbands are unavailable for Dual Cultivation Cure. This fic just really captures the snark and is also *chefs kiss*

with the tail of the snake by tciddaemina is a very, very good monsterfucker!SQQ fic where Binghe became a dragon in the abyss. I LOVE IT. It's a WIP, but *clenches fist* it's just so good. Soft and gooey and so HHHH yes good. I would probably put all their svsss fics in here but I am running out of time!!

.... but I have enough time to recommend my other favorite fic from them, which isn't even svsss! And is how I found them to begin with!

come all ye mighty is a Solo Leveling fic! It's Igris/Jinwoo, from Igris' pov, and I love the world building in it. As they say in the author's notes, it's a little bit of an au since it doesn't follow the original plot of the comic, but I reread this so, so often. 10/10, if you like solo leveling at all please give it a go I BEG OF YOU.

[leonardalphachurch]

Burnie’s AMA podcast about Rooster Teeth’s revival is now available to the public and so I’m going to summarizing the relevant questions that were answered here.

Why?

“It’s because we could […] If we don’t do it who will?” Throughout the episode, Burnie also mentioned: not wanting RT to become lost media; wanting to create opportunities for himself/past employees of the company; wanting to work with old properties again; being able to collaborate with new talent; and the Rooster Teeth brand being good marketing. “One of the main motivators for this was preserving the media, and I’m happy to say, it is preserved.”

Also spoken about over multiple questions, Burnie says that Warner Brothers might have been planning to sell off the whole company, including employees etc., and he did not want (/couldn’t afford) to buy it then. It was only after the shutdown, after it became clear the WB was selling off individual shows, that Burnie started trying to buy things. I mention this specifically because I’ve seen a lot of people talk as if the company itself is coming back; it is not. What Burnie owns right now is the brand and IP rights to a lot of the properties. The actual “company” of Rooster Teeth is actually Burnie’s production company “Box Canyon Productions” and right now only has two employees.

What properties does Rooster Teeth still own?

“It’s a very, very long list.” Burnie says they have the rights over 50 shows, some specifically named ones being The RT Podcast, Red vs Blue, and The Know. Most of the shows that were hosted on the Rooster Teeth YouTube channel were a part of the acquisition. Nothing from Achievement Hunter, Funhaus, or RWBY are owned by RT anymore. Heavy emphasis was put on AH no longer being under RT’s brand anymore.

Are the scope of these new projects going to be more in line with smaller content like the RT Shorts, or is the hope to try and focus on larger productions like Day 5, The Schedule, or Lazer Team?

“The sweet spot for scale is going all the way back to the early episodes of Red vs Blue.” The focus is going to be on “compelling writing and great characters,” and making projects with smaller productions. Throughout the episode they reiterated that their main focus is going to be on individual projects and shows.

Does this mean there are hopes of getting a complete boxset of RvB?

“I also would love a complete boxset of Red vs Blue.” Burnie says he wants to do this, but doing physical media in 2025 is complicated and a financial risk, so they’re going to have to figure out how it would be done. He mentions possibly doing a preorder for it.

What happens if this just fails again?

“It’s not bulletproof, but I don’t know what it would take for us to have to shutter this thing at this point.” Burnie says that they’re already profitable, that they maintain themselves, and that unless they do something that would put them in tremendous amounts of debt, as long as YouTube still remains a platform that lets them host videos, he’s not worried about the company shutting down.

Could this lead to some of the old RT merch being available again?

“Yeah, it would have to be within the brands we’re talking about.” They talk about there being a lot of old merch, so figuring out how to provide the specific pieces that people want will be a challenge. Burnie how his personal philosophies on making merchandise in a way that does not produce “junk” may also make selling merch more difficult. Ashley says it is going to be a “slow start.”

More questions were answered and things discussed on the episode but this is what I found to be important to share here.

The TL;DR of RvB news: They do own the Red vs Blue IP. There was no confirmation or denial of any future continuations of the show, but we will very likely be getting a boxset and some old merch returning.

[frostfire425]

Image Description: Digital art of the Subway Bosses Emmet and Ingo from Pokémon Black and White. As per the usual for Yugo, they accentuate the varying line width and shape caused by their hand tremors, and use an inviting warm colour palette of mostly consisting of reds, oranges, creams, and a deep teal.

Notably, Yugo has given Ingo and Emmet a slight design difference that matches their characters; Emmet's eyelashes are on top facing up, and Ingo's eyelashes are on the bottom facing down.

Emmet is on the left side of the art making a “v for victory” or “peace” sign with his left hand, and Ingo is on the right side pointing to the left with his right hand. They are at a ¾ angle towards the viewer, but their faces are drawn as if they are both in profile and head-on, making them look like if Pablo Picasso had made simplified Comedy and Tragedy Masks. Between them is a speech bubble that has them both say, “GO!! GO!!! GO!!”

CHOO CHOO! It’s the funny subway boys, Emmet and Ingo! 

[steddieas-shegoes]

slowly, then all at once

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "as he read, i fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once." from the fault in our stars by john green

rated t | 731 words | cw: nightmares | tags: pre-relationship, feelings realization, literal sleeping together, cuddling

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Steve’s nightmares aren’t a secret. The severity of them, along with the frequency, and how shitty he feels after, those are all secrets. Not even Robin quite knows how bad it gets sometimes.

The summer is worse: the memories of the Russians, the way the pool reflects off his window at night, the humidity clinging to his skin reminding him too much of the way dust and ash and mud clings in the Upside Down.

He feels stupid after spring break, that he should even still have traumatic memories when Eddie almost died. But he does. They’re worse now. He isn’t being tortured, Robin isn’t even in these ones. It’s always Eddie.

Eddie bleeding.

Eddie’s broken body.

Eddie not breathing.

Eddie dying.

It’s weird how quickly he took over Steve’s brain, how he went from being someone Steve barely knew from school to being one of his closest friends. Near-death experiences tended to do that, he supposes.

But it’s almost every night, and he rarely gets more than a couple hours of sleep before they hit, so he’s in a constant state of exhaustion these days. It’s not great for all the volunteering he does, and the usual taking the kids where they need to go, and trying to find a new job, and trying to convince Robin he’s fine. The bags under his eyes and the constant slump of his shoulders says everything.

She worries, but she knows he just has to get over the hump.

They all do.

Eddie stays with him late into the night a lot. It’s like he senses that being alone is the catalyst.

He finds excuses, tries to make it seem like he’s the one who doesn’t wanna be alone. Steve appreciates it, but he’s far past the point of feeling any shame for being afraid of being alone.

He doesn’t turn him away, though. Eddie sticks around for hours most nights, well past the point he should. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just turn music on and sit quietly in the living room. Eddie is always moving a little, fingers tapping, leg jiggling, head bobbing. It’s good, though. It’s nice.

And sometimes he lays down in Steve’s bed with him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t touch him, or really do anything more than just exist in the space while Steve closes his eyes and drifts off. He’s always gone when Steve wakes up.

Tonight, he’s got a book open and Steve’s curled up under his blankets. His bones ache from how tired he is, and he wonders if his body will ever get to the point where exhaustion keeps the nightmares away. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Not yet.

Eddie’s voice is soft, accents coming through for some characters, colorful inflections describing the scenery. Steve smiles to himself as his eyes start to feel heavy.

It’s nice to be read to. He doesn’t know which book this is, but it sounds like a dream.

Maybe he’ll dream about this instead of bats circling a body he loves.

Oh.

His eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, who doesn’t stop reading, even when Steve knows he can feel his eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing, to see Eddie so enraptured in a story that he’s probably read before, to see him still putting the effort into giving Steve a show even though Steve was mostly asleep.

He loves him.

Steve loves Eddie.

Not the way he loves Robin, or the kids. Maybe closer to how he loved Nancy, but even that didn’t feel quite like this.

This feels like a later sunset after a long winter, a fresh breath of air after being stuck in the Upside Down, a glass of cold water in the middle of summer.

It’s refreshing, and waves of calm take over his body.

He settles.

He reaches out, places his arm over Eddie’s stomach, curls his fingers into his shirt. He buries his face into Eddie’s side.

Eddie pauses for a moment, just long enough that Steve worries he shouldn’t have done this. But then one arm covers Steve’s body and he continues, voice softer but no less enthusiastic.

Steve closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, it’s calm. There’s no crying or screaming, no thrashing, no fighting.

Eddie’s there, holding Steve against him.

He loves him.

[mintwithchoco]

Coming Down

tripleS Jiyeon x Male Reader

Word Count: 5142 words

Categories: smut. fluff-ish, tsundere!jiyeon aka way too many pabos

Inspired from:

“You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Her first few words take you by surprise, but you're unfazed. She's not wrong, you are pathetic. 

You chuckle slightly. “Wow, straight to the point, huh.”

“Shut up. It's that time again, isn't it?”

“What time?”

You heard her loud sigh. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” 

“I…” You stop for a while, reorganizing your words. “I just need to hear your voice.”

“Get to the point. What do you want?”

You can hear the faint music playing in the background. She could’ve ignored your call, and yet she still picks up. Maybe amidst her cold words, there’s still some space left inside of her heart for you.

“Can I come over?”

A few seconds of silence, but it’s deafening to your ears. Regret slowly creeps into your soul, before the voice comes back, softer this time.

“Door’s unlocked. You got five minutes.”

Though as pathetic as you may seem—drunkenly stumbling to get inside of Jiyeon's apartment—a sense of relief washes over you in an instant, and you ask for nothing more.

Decision-making is not your strongest ability. Numerous times you have found yourself not being able to grasp the concept of reality in your actions, and you yourself don't know the exact cause. It's been this way since you first deluged yourself in that devilish liquid, tantalizing at best for its flavor, yet drives you to your worst, with each experience making you fall deeper and deeper into madness.

Luckily, unlike others, you have a lifeline. 

Jiyeon sighs as she looks at your lifeless movements in the doorway, trying your best to enter the living room. “You look like shit.”

“I know,” you simply reply before crashing into the couch. “My head fucking hurts.”

 Jiyeon throws you a shade before leaving to the kitchen, “Isn’t that a normal thing for you?” 

Silence filled the air as the last few words left from Jiyeon’s mouth. You’re dumbfounded, though you couldn't agree more with the points she made. It's not like it’s the first time she has flamed you like this—it’s the opposite actually. Somehow this time, it finally breaks through your intoxicated self, instead of you just brushing it off as an oopsie.

“Yeah, you’re right. Can’t even get my own shit together.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Your eyes are finally open now?” 

“It’s been open for a while. It’s just—fuuuuck.” That sharp stinging pain in your head strikes again. “Ugh. I tried Jiyeon, I really tried.”

She comes back to you with a glass of water in her hand. “You’re not trying hard enough. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not working. Drink.”

You witness her going back to the kitchen after placing the glass in front of you. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna quit.”

Your nonchalant remark earns a faint blush on the girl’s cheeks, but she immediately throws it away. “Pabo! It's not like I’m your mom or anything.” She's lucky you didn't notice it. Not that you can anyway. 

As you lay your head on one of the pillows on the sofa, Jiyeon begins to prepare the soup to cure your hangover. She’s not the best cook, but she knows that you’ll eat anything in this state, as long as it's warm. It didn’t take very long for the house to smell heavenly all around, even though she’s just throwing anything in the pot that will fill you up. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say as you realize what she’s doing.

“I know,” she simply answers. “I just wanna get this shit done with.”

You softly smile. “Thanks.”

She continues on with her cooking, tasting and adjusting the broth multiple times so it’s suited to your taste. You eye her every action from time to time, and it hints at her willingness to treat you, even if the words that left her lips say the opposite. That's how your relationship has been with Ji Suhyeon over the past few years. She's one hell of a character to bear with, but she's always there for you whenever you're at your lowest.

Vice versa? Nope, it's always her that takes care of you.

After a few more minutes of tinkering, Jiyeon brings the finished dish—an aromatic soup filled with leftover meat and veggies—over to the living room’s table. “Hey, get up. Your food’s ready.” No response—your head’s still a big mess. She then proceeds to shake you by the arm. “Yah! Wake up!”

You got up almost immediately. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Damn, what got you so fucked up?” Jiyeon asks as she settles herself to the couch beside you.

You pick up the spoon and start eating. “Like usual.” 

“Oh, really? Then why’d you show up? If it’s just another one of your normal nights, you can just sleep outside.” Jiyeon scoffs.

“Fuck, this is so good.” You take a spoonful of the soup and point it to her. “Here.” 

Slightly taken aback, she snaps. “It’s your food, just eat it.” 

“But I insist.”

“And I don’t wanna.”

“Oh, come on. Just one bite.”

She clicks her tongue, feeling rather annoyed at this side of you. “Fucking—” At this point, she’s pretty much done with your bullshit. “You better tell me what happened.”

As soon as you nod your head, she leans forward and takes the food into her mouth. “I thought you would just grab the spoon off my hands.”

It’s a second hit on what’s inside her heart—her ears are now red from the embarrassment. By remembering that this is not the real you, she’s still able to keep her true feelings under control, kicking your feet as a way to let it go. “Pabo! Hurry up and tell me what happened!”

“Ugh, fine.” You rub your temple, trying your best to remember the events that happened beforehand. “I was stressed out. Felt like shit. Then my workmates just brought me to the club again.”

“Ironically, you still feel like shit,” she chuckles.

“That’s what I said to them before.” You continue, “But they were my seniors, so I can’t really dip out. Can’t even remember some of their names. But then suddenly, everything felt like a doozy. Like—someone just injected me with dopamine. I-” You pause for a while, hesitant to say the next few lines. “I got high. So high, until I can’t feel myself anymore.”

Jiyeon immediately connects the lines. “So once it wears off, you can't control yourself, feel lonely, and you proceed to disturb me in the middle of the night.”

“You could just not pick up the call,” you point out. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, and expect you to be just fine? No thanks.” Jiyeon shakes her head, and inhales a sharp breath. “Aren’t you sick of this already?”

“Of what? Your cooking? Hell no, this is delicious!”

She slaps you on the shoulder. “Pabo-ya! I’m serious! You always do this, pushing yourself to the edge for your own pleasure. And then when it gets too dark, you find me, like I’m some sort of angel that heals you.”

She’s not wrong. You always want her when you’re coming down.

You look down upon the bowl, half of its content has already been consumed. “I just… I don't know what else to do. You’re the only one that’s on my mind.”

“You—” Strike three. This is not good for Jiyeon’s heart. It’s racing so much, her body is heating up amidst the slight cold air of the room. In a pinch, she brushes her hair back, acting nonchalant while you continue to eat. “O-Of course, I’m your only true friend after all.”

“A true friend who’s so good at cooking. Have I ever told you that?” Another slap on your arm, and you hiss in pain. “Jeez, chill out.”

Jiyeon rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Alright then, what if I don't pick up? What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll probably just… die in a ditch somewhere, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Or probably get robbed by some gang.”

Jiyeon looks at you sternly. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I do.” You gulp nervously. “I really don’t know how to stop.”

Her heart rate finally calms down, but now she’s frustrated. It’s been swelling up inside her, ever since you came through that front door. She cannot stand to be stuck in this loop anymore. To see how much of a mess you are, suffering in your unwanted addiction, every month, every week, every day. It's getting out of hand at this point, so Jiyeon knows that she needs to do more than this.

The only thing that's getting in her way is her true feelings.

For the longest time, she hated that she still had feelings for you genuinely, despite your reckless behaviors. You were once her favorite comfort zone—every time you both hung out, there’s not a single second where the air around you is awkward. There will always be a topic of interest or an activity that the both of you enjoy doing. Overtime, her heart bloomed, but she kept it to herself—it wasn’t the right time yet.

Everything changed however once you got a new job, a company with a totally different vibe as you’re used to. Meanwhile, Jiyeon continued on with her life, studying in college while keeping up with her ballet routines. You both eventually grew apart, with you unbeknowingly falling into insanity, while she’s keeping the flame of passion alive. The lack of free time is also to be blamed after all, and she does hold some regret for it. 

Before her facade begins to fade away, she gets up from her seat. Sighing to herself, she says, “Just put the bowl in the sink once you’re done. You can sleep here, but when morning comes, you leave.” Just before she leaves for her room, she looks back at you with a soft yet saddened gaze. “Figure this shit out on your own. I can’t always be there for you.”

“Wait, Jiyeon—” The door then slams itself shut, leaving you in the living room all alone. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

With the ambient silence being your partner of the night, you quickly finish the meal and place everything she brought into the sink. The drowsiness now takes its place as soon as you’re back on the couch—it suddenly feels way more comfier and warmer than before. You stare blankly at the ceiling, thoughts running in your head as much as before. But one thing’s for certain—she still cares for you, and that’s enough for you to feel alive.

“Thank you, Jiyeon.”

— 

Jiyeon presses her back against the door, with her hand close to her chest. She hears the faint words that he uttered a few seconds ago, and that is what breaks her apart. Her knees are the first to give out, forcing her to sit down abruptly. Her heart is still pounding fast, and her breathing is growing rapidly.

God, she hates him so much for this.

She had promised herself not to care about him anymore.

Promised herself not to let him back into her life.

Promised herself to forget about him.

And yet, she’s breaking into tears for him again. It’s a mix of emotions for her, and honestly, it’s getting exhausting. Just because she wants to act all tough around him, she hurts her true feelings at the same time, shoving it so far down so that he’ll never see that side of her.

That side of her that truly loves him, and still has a hope for him to change.

— 

Around an hour later, Jiyeon enters the living room once again. Her mind was too loud to be ignored, until she couldn't fall asleep. As expected, you’re sound asleep due to the hearty meal from earlier. Her footsteps gradually become softer the closer she gets to inspect you snoring away while hugging one of her prized possessions in the house—a body-sized swan pillow. 

If you were awake, she’d definitely be smacking your head multiple times while complaining about how it’ll get all dirty with your drool.

Instead, it’s a gentle smile on her lips.

Seeing you in a much calmer state brings comfort to her eyes. She suddenly recalls a time where you accidentally slept in the car while waiting for her to get ready late at night. It's a sweet memory for her—you going out of your way just to spend some time with her, no matter how exhausted you were.

But those were all memories from the past. There's close to no chance that it would ever happen again, given your current state.

She comes by the kitchen and checks the sink. Oh, he actually listened. Thought he would wash them himself, she thought in her mind. 

Soon after, Jiyeon decides to just wash the dishes right away. Maybe it can help her to feel a little tired, distract her from overthinking about you, and hopefully fall asleep. She starts off by cleaning some utensils and small items first, before moving on to the bigger ones such as the bowls and pots she used.

Unaware to her however, is that you’re already awake.

Even when she’s not making any noise, the sounds of the tap water splashing against the sink and the bowls that clang whenever it’s placed anywhere is enough to disturb your slumber. With heavy eyes, you look behind towards the kitchen, and her figure is seen by the counter. Instinctively, you get up and walk over to her, who still wasn’t aware of your presence as she continues her chore, humming away a song of her favorite.

Another thought suddenly crosses her mind. 

Would it be funny if he actually wakes up and hugs me from behind?

“Jiyeon-ah.”

Jiyeon jumps in surprise. “Wha—” Before she realized it, you wrap your arms around her from behind, and press your head against her back. “H-Hey, what the fuck are you d-doing?!”

“Thank you for being here with me.”

Your words resonate in her ear. Her spine tingles in response. She starts to resist your embrace by moving her body violently. “Aish, stop it!”

“Why? Do you hate me?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuck! “No! Y-You’re just drunk, go back—” 

You hug her tighter, and she reacts with a gasp. The warmth of her body is so soothing. “I just wanna say my thanks.”

Her legs begin to tremble out of nervousness. Her heart goes into overdrive. Her jaw clenches. “T-There's no need to, just get off—”

All of the sudden, you turn her around by the waist and close the distance in between the both of you. Your lips then finally touch one another, and it sends Jiyeon’s mind into a blank. Her body tenses up under you, while you enjoy the softness of her lips, and the enticing smell of her fragrance even at the latest of night. Eventually, you snap back into reality.

You quickly move away, your cheeks blushing madly. “Fuck,” Your hands then left her waist. Your eyes blink multiple times, trying to make up words in your head. “I’m sorry. I... I should just leave—”

Jiyeon stops you by holding your arm before you step away. “Don’t,” Her eyes are now filled with fervor, staring at you intensely. “Stay here with me.”

There’s no turning back now. She’s letting it all out.

She takes the first step, reaching out to your neck and pulling you closer to initiate another kiss. You obviously ease into it—half of your consciousness is a blurry mess, so your body just follows along with whatever she wants. You can’t deny it either when Jiyeon deepens the kiss, fading away all of your resistance and exciting you inside.

Her body grows warmer with each small peck given, and thankfully, she’s near the counter whilst all of this is happening, so it’s easy for her to keep standing. Luckily, you notice a better solution, by lifting her up to sit on the counter. 

She yelps in surprise for a second, before getting back into another makeout session, this time with your tongue dancing together in each other’s mouth. It’s a weird addiction, even though she hated the remnants of whatever you drank hours before in your mouth. She can’t keep her hands to herself as well, as it roams around your back and your arms, feeling each muscle that you’ve worked hard to maintain.

There are no words exchanged over the couple of minutes you both make out, only breathless moans and clothes rustling are the sounds that fills the small space. But then, you escalate the intensity by trailing your kisses down her neck and collarbones. Jiyeon throws her head back as you start to suck on the smooth skin, leaving gentle hickeys that hopefully no one can notice.

“Fuck, please.” Jiyeon moans.

You stop for a while to catch some breath and look upon the view right in front of you. Even through your intoxicated vision and your impulsive behaviors, you’re still falling in love with her, and it has always been this way. Especially when she’s in this red sundress that highlights some of her best features, most notably her slim figure that she got from her ballet career. Your eyes are having a feast, full of wonder and appreciation for how gorgeous Jiyeon is. 

“You’re so pretty, Jiyeon.” 

“T-Thanks.” She blushes and looks down, failing to keep an eye contact on you. It makes you swoon for her even more, as this side of her has never been revealed to you before. Suddenly, she whines, “Hurry up, before I go back to my room!”

“Right, s-sorry.”

You decided to start with the closest part that you can reach, which is her ample breasts that conforms too well with the outfit she’s in. You're hesitant at first, but when you meet with her begging eyes once again, it shows that she wants this just as much as you do, maybe even more. 

“Mmmh, fuck,” she moans as your hands cups the irresistible pair, kneading them gently while teasing the hard nipples, visibly poking through the fabric.

Jiyeon has sought for a better ending every night that you came over. Maybe a promise to make up for everything you've done, or a sudden confession, crying out for her help. She never expected that this would be it—being in heat under him as he treats her body like an art piece, worshipping every single part of it. The heat between her thighs is unbearable, and it elevates when you pull down on the top of her dress and wrap your lips around her right nipple, licking and sucking it subtly.

“O-Oh my god, yes.” Her eyelids flutter as the massive amount of dopamine goes through her brain.

After spending a few minutes on her tits, you move down to her lower half, and her thighs rub themselves together in response to your proximity. She bites her lower lip when you begin to spread her legs and lift up her dress, uncovering her pink panties with a wet spot right in the middle of it.

You can only utter praises at how pretty and cute Jiyeon is, especially now with her whole figure being laid out for you to see. The closer you get in between her legs, the more you feel breathless. Your hot breath grazes over her thighs and her clothed heat, sending shivers down her spine. 

“Jiyeon-ah, I’m gonna take it off, okay?”

Even a simple nod of consent from her is so fucking adorable at this point. You waste no time pulling down the thin panties and throwing it away somewhere, finally revealing her pussy to your eyes, glistening with slickness. Your mouth waters once it’s in your sight, prompting you to gulp down some saliva and lick your lips, the thought of taking Jiyeon’s body for the night is making you grow hard down below. But for now, you have to finish what you have started.

“T-Touch me more, please.” she pleads.

Jiyeon twitches as soon as your fingers trails over the wet slit, drawing circles to let her leak more. You bring the finger that is stained with her nectar into your mouth, tasting the sweetest part of her. Eventually, your thirst overpowers your patience, and your lips latch upon her pussy right before you can tease her any further. 

“Oh, fuck—” She frantically looks for something to hold, and her hands grip upon your hair in an instant. “Keep going!”

Your tongue comes into the play next, lapping up all of her juices, its pace being motivated by her lustful moans. Even with a steady grip on her thighs, Jiyeon’s legs still uncontrollably shake around you, yet it didn’t stop you from stimulating her further. You kept a constant rhythm of both sucking and flicking at her sensitive spots, before finally adding your fingers to the work. 

Amidst the difficulties you’re facing—your knees pressing against the cold hard floor, trying to be on the same level as her, her strong pull on your scalp that pains you so much, especially with your headache, and the slight tightness inside your pants that is caused by your prominent erection—you’re still able to persevere through, now thrusting two digits inside of Jiyeon’s cunt. She closes her eyes, her head falls back and her moaning gets louder and clearer, the pleasure slowly but surely is going to reach its limit. You can feel how her walls convulse each time your fingers go in deep, until at one point, it grazes against her g-spot. At the same time, your thumb is able to tease her clit by pressing and circling around it, resulting in an eventual climax. 

Jiyeon cries out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!”

She cums hard. Her body shivers violently as it happens, holding your head to make you drink up everything that she’s letting out. You try your best to take it all in, but you lose some breath and choke as you’re swallowing her juices. Her grasp on you finally weakens overtime, letting you stand back up and witness her look post-orgasm. Safe to say that you’re not disappointed at all, the way her chest heaves desperately for air and her hair that is now in a much messier state is hypnotizing at best.

You plant both of your hands beside her on the table. “You okay, Jiyeon?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Her arms are around your neck once again. “I-I want more.” She then hugs you, her eye contact filled with desperation. “I want you.”

A fire burns up inside you. You immediately carry her into your arms and bring her over to the couch, your bed just a few minutes ago. She spontaneously straddles your lap, and dives into your lips for another kiss, while her hips start to grind on your bulge. 

“Fuck, Jiyeon-ah…” you moan.

“You—mmmh, feel so big,” Jiyeon gets closer to your ear, and with a breathy voice, she asks, “Can you show it to me, please?”

There’s no need for you to nod or say yes. She moves away from you, and you swiftly take off both of your pants and underwear. Your erection stands tall at last, released from its confines. Jiyeon blushes upon seeing it for the very first time, even more so when she’s back on your lap, with it being so close to her pussy. 

“Wow, you’re—” She giggles cutely as she strokes it gently, “You’re big.”

“And you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore. I need it.” Jiyeon lifts herself and lines up her folds with your shaft, its tip leaking out with precum. You tease her slit with your tip by grabbing the base of your cock, rubbing it in circles to make her yelp.

“You’re so wet, Jiyeon-ah.”

“Shut up—ahh! Now, just lay there, and le—mmh—let me fuck you.” 

Now, it’s her turn. Thanks to her wetness, she descends easily on your shaft, the tip being the first part to enter her insides. Her mouth gapes wider the lower she gets, until she stops in her tracks halfway through. This feeling of being so full is obviously her first, so it's fair that she's overwhelmed. 

“Holy shit,” you groan when she sinks fully on your cock, forcing your head to snap back. Meanwhile, Jiyeon’s body tenses up once again, screaming silently as she cums for the second time, drenching your cock with slickness. “Did you just—”

She collapses onto you, “S-Sorry… I came again.”

You calm her down by stroking her back and planting a kiss on her lips. “It’s okay. Slowly, baby.”

With her hands on your chest to stabilize herself, she begins to move her hips, her face contorting with each inch of you exploring her insides. You grit your teeth over the mix of pain and pleasure from the tightness of her walls around you, and her nails digging into your skin, desperately holding on for the ride of her life. Visible sweat is plastered on your forehead, as it becomes a challenge for you to not reach your peak this early.

Eventually, her thrusts pick up in speed, right when her moans start to increase in volume. Jiyeon has truly lost control over her body, but it is what she craves for, and she doesn’t intend to stop. If this is what will spark that change inside of you, then it was worth breaking her tough persona for. But truth be told, she doesn’t need to worry, because the feeling is mutual.

“It feels so good Jiyeon-ah, keep going…” 

Your hands snake towards her waist, guiding her into you while constantly giving her praises. You know that it’s working by how drenched your crotch feels from her juices, so you carry on while peppering kisses over the parts that you can reach. You can also imagine how good the view would look from the front, how hypnotizing her ass looks bouncing up and down your cock, rippling with each of her thrusts. 

“Almost there,” you warn Jiyeon. “Where—”

Jiyeon suddenly lunges forward and rests her head on your shoulder. “Inside, please, I need it.”

You wish that you could stop time at this point, because you expect that you can never get this feeling again. Nevertheless, the pressure inside you needs to be released soon, so you began fucking up into her as well, playing off of her fast rhythm. Her body quakes through your powerful thrusts, crying out incoherent words that describe her frantic euphoria. You suddenly feel a rough spot grazing over your shaft constantly, and it drives you even closer to your climax.

“Jiyeon-ah!”

A loud guttural groan left your throat. Your hips stop in its tracks, and you force the same onto Jiyeon by a strong grip on her ass, filling her up to the brim with ropes of your semen, deep inside her womb. As Jiyeon whines away in pleasure, falls onto your torso and hugs you tightly, the orgasm continues for a few more seconds, before it ends with the last spurt, adding to the extreme amount inside of her. All of your muscles relax as you lean back on the couch, sweaty and panting heavily.

“Thank you, Jiyeon, thank you for taking care of me...” you uttered weakly. In between breaths, your melting brain implies you to say, “I promise, I’ll change, for you.” 

Jiyeon comes alive upon hearing your words. “R-Really?”

You nod, but your eyelids start to feel heavy. Without pulling out of her or moving to a better position, you immediately black out, the exhaustion from everything finally comes to an effect. Jiyeon realizes that you’ve fallen asleep, though she doesn't proceed to pull herself away as expected, and instead snuggles along into the crook of your neck.

“Good night, honey.”

— 

It's a new day.

The bright sunlight beaming at your face wakes you up from the deep slumber. Your eyes still feel heavy, and your head is still a huge mess. As you get up slowly and scan your surroundings, you realize that something is off.

You’re not in your house.

The gravity of the situation finally fills your mind. You look around the familiar living room and notice that the balcony is open.

She’s there.

Regret fills your heart instantly. But you’re ready to take the responsibility. It’s your fault after all.

With a heavy sigh, you walk over to the balcony. 

Jiyeon is enjoying the scenery with a cup of coffee in her hand. You can't really tell what she's thinking from afar, but she seems calm and rather happy. Like nothing ever happened last night.

Before you can enter the balcony, she notices you first, “Good morning.”

“M-Morning, Jiyeon.”

Still looking out to the view, she says, “There's some coffee in the kitchen. Treat yourself.”

You scratch your nape, feeling a little awkward and confused at her behavior. This wasn't the Jiyeon that you know. “You're not gonna lash out on me or anything?”

“I’ve done enough.”

“What?”

Her face expresses disappointment, as she sighs and finally looks at you. “Pabo-ya, don't you remember what happened last night?”

“Uhh,” you hesitate. “We fucked.”

Her cheeks flushed red in an instant. “That’s not what I was pointing to! Pabo.”

“S-Sorry, I can't remember much details. My head is still in a blur.”

“Goddamnit.”

After placing her cup on the table, she gets closer to you and leans her head on your chest. Your eyes widen in shock as she buries her face into you more. “J-Jiyeon?”

“You promised me that you’ll stop hurting yourself, to change.” she says as she looks up to you. 

The view of Jiyeon in your embrace sends butterflies in your stomach. Her visuals have always been a heart stealer for anyone. Not to mention, you feel a sense of warmth when looking upon her eyes. It floods you with even more regret, realizing how much she has done for you, just to keep your heart afloat. 

“Sorry. I’ll try my best. As long as—” 

Jiyeon smiles, “I’ll always be there for you.”

Your arms instinctively wraps itself around her figure, and she melts into you, hugging you back tighter. In that moment, you place a hope inside your heart, tying the promise that you swear in front of Jiyeon. That is, to throw away your bad behaviors and strive to become a better person for yourself, and for her.

“By the way, do you know what day it is?” 

You check your watch, and your heart sinks. “13 February…”

Jiyeon pouts her lips. “Mhm.”

“Shit, I didn't get you anything for your birthday.”

“It's alright,” She kisses you on the lips. “I’ll take last night as my gift.” 

“Well, we ca=n do it again if you want,” you whisper in her ear.

“S-Stop that!” You giggle away at her flustered reaction.

“Happy birthday, Jiyeon.”

===========================================

note; shut up, i know i'm a little late to the party, but happy birthday to our swan princess jiyeon! i had this draft sitting in the basement for a while, and figured now is the perfect time to kind of kill force myself to write it out. didn't think that i could cram over 5k, but it is completely unedited because i wanted to finish it quick lmao

btw there will be another story coming out pretty soon, which is the one that i have been working on for a fuckton of time. it's my longest one yet, so i hope you guys will look forward to it!

as always, thanks for reading, and hope yall have a beautiful day! <3 i'm gonna go to sleep now it's 2 am help-

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 2

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 1 - Pt. 3

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You put the plan into motion, and Sam realizes you're not Dean a little too late.

Author's Note: Supernatural characters are incapable of the just making the emotionally smart choice on the first try, but they're doing their best.

Word Count: 4.5k

Dean had half shoved the phone into your hand. His hand. Your hand was the one who shoved it into Dean’s hand, and Dean’s hand was the one that was dialing Sam while your hand drummed on the table, and your own eyes watched you with a searing intensity that only Dean was capable of. 

You’re not sure what suddenly made him take this seriously, but you don’t really care. You just need this to be over. 

Because the last twelve hours have been the longest of your life.

It started with your eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. Dean would shift in his chair, your body would shift with him, and when your boobs would bounce it was suddenly impossible to stop staring at them. Dean would walk away from you—to the parking lot, or through a door, or over to the bar—and your hips would do a little swaying thing that made Dean’s body tense. 

Your body tense. Dean’s body that was right now your body—and only about twenty percent in your control—tense. 

And he’d bend over, and your ass would stick in the air, and it was like your eyes were magnetically drawn to it.

You have a nice ass. You’ve never really seen it before, but it’s a nice ass. And nice tits, and an overall face that was better than you’d ever really given yourself credit for. You’re pretty. You have good features, a nice voice, and a great body.

This experience would be an overall ego booster, if you haven’t spent the whole time trying not to lose your mind.

Because then Dean wiggled his ass—your ass—and your jeans felt tight. Almost painful. And there was a weird throbbing feeling between your legs that was deep in your core, but it was heavier than you were used to-

You’d glanced down at your lap with a frown, worried you’d done something to fuck up Dean’s body, and almost fallen out of your chair.

You never wanted to experience an erection again. They were uncomfortable and sudden and annoyingly obvious. They made it hard to focus when you were trying to talk to Dean about the situation, and distracting when you were trying to do research. 

It didn’t help how they were purely out of your control. How easily they appeared, and how impossibly they went. 

And Dean was not fucking helping. He’d squirm when you touched him, and you’d get a boner. He’d use your voice to whine or mumble or just say anything at all, and you’d get a boner. At one point he kicked you and you got a boner.

You don’t know how he functions like this. You’d been a little worried that he doesn’t. That you’re getting turned on by your own shockingly attractive body for some fucked up Freudian reason, and Dean’s got nothing to do with this.

Then you’d dragged him out of the diner, and it had killed that doubt with fire and smoke. You’d never drag your own body like that. You hated it when Dean did that to you—the close proximity and overall Dean-ness of the action always made you weak and soft, molding into him when you were supposed to be pounding on his chest and calling him an asshole—and you hadn’t even really been considering it as an option to stop him going to the bathroom, but Dean’s muscles had flexed against your will, his body had stood taller without your permission, and suddenly you’d been grabbing your own arm and manhandled Dean out of the diner.

He’d been sulking the whole ride back. It was the same way you usually sulked after he did that to you, with a pout and arms folded over your chest.

His boobs—your boobs—were pushed up. You could see cleavage when you glanced to the side, and your cock twitched in your jeans to shove between those pretty fucking tits-

What the fuck was wrong with you.

It was like your body—Dean’s body—had a mind of its own. Behaving as Dean would behave, had none of this shit ever happened. Opening doors and placing that broad hand on your lower back, towering over you closer than he had any right to be and pressing you into corners until he was only just not touching you.

You really wish you’d pushed harder to make him stop doing that. If only for the sake of you now, crowding your own space and getting hard whenever Dean would squirm away from you. But you hadn’t, because when it was you in your own body, you loved it.

It was a cruel, masochistic drug you’d hooked yourself on, where Dean didn’t want you like that but he was still giving you this. You were only his friend in his mind, but he still liked you as a body. He didn’t feel anything for you the same way you felt things for him, but there was still an animalistic attraction that made him hover and smirk and tease you.

It gave you something to hang onto. It gave you something to hate about him, because you really did love everything else. 

You really loved Dean. You really loved his dumb jokes, and his shit-eating grin, and how loud and annoying and adorable he could be. You loved how he loved his car, how he cared about Sam with everything he had, how he was maybe to biggest, hottest geek you’d ever met. 

You really simply loved Dean.

And he didn’t love you, and you’d forced yourself to live with that because you had to. He was still your best friend. You hate him, and you’re furious with him for telling you no and then acting like nothing had changed when he’d ripped your heart out of your chest, carved his name on it, and returned it without any desire to care for how he’d mauled you in a beautiful and irreversible way, but he’s your best friend. And you love him.

And this needed to be fixed now, because you can’t keep living in such firm and solid proof that Dean’s body wants you, but there’s something revolting enough to his brain that he never ever cross that line you’ve had to restrain yourself from all day.

The first step is to call Sam, and execute the secrets plan so you can have some help that isn’t just a grumpy Dean. The second step is to hiss at Dean that he needs to leave the room before Sam picks up, because the whole point is that this a you and Sam secret, and Dean isn’t allowed to hear it.

“You can’t just cut me out of this, sweetheart,” he hisses back, narrowing your eyes. It’s cute. You’re going to fucking die. “I’ll be damned if I let you and Sammy whisper about me while I just stand in the freakin’ hall-“

“Not everything is about you, Dean.” You sneer. “And if you want this to work, wait outside.”

“But-“

“Outside.” Your voice raises slightly as you point to the door, and there’s an authoritative, commanding tone to it that makes Dean’s eyes—your eyes—widen. “Now.”

Dean scowls and shuffles outside, his low grumble about this being bullshit muffled as the door closes behind him.

You glare after him—not loving how annoyed his body is that you just let Dean walk away without picking him up and kissing his hair—and Sam picks up seconds later.

“Listen, Dean, I know you’re freaking out, but you can’t keep calling me.” Sam sounds exasperated, and you frown into the air as he continues. “This is supposed to be my week off with Eileen, and it’s hard to relax when you keep fucking calling me.”

“I-“ You shake your head slightly, glancing back to the door. “What?”

“You’ve called me seven times, Dude. Listen, it’s not going to go bad, she doesn’t hate you, and all you need to do is talk about your feelings like an adult and everything will be fine.”

“I don’t-“

“Yeah, I know.” You can hear Sam’s eye roll through the phone. “There’s nothing to talk about, she doesn’t know what she’d be getting into, you’d rather be miserable and all that shit. Look, Dean, at this point all I can tell you is to get your head out of your ass, and stop calling me.”

“Sam.” Your voice is slow, cautious, and wired with things you don’t fully understand. “What are you talking about.”

He says your name like it’s obvious, and you think the world stops spinning. “I know you didn’t wanna solo hunt with her, but-“

“Why didn’t he- Why didn’t I want to solo hunt with her?” Your voice is more frantic than Dean’s usually is. You don’t really care. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing’s wrong with her, Dean, you’re just still in love with her, and kind of being a fucking dick about it.”

Sam keeps talking. Something about how Dean’s always worried about hunting with you, how he’s always worried he’s going to slip up and put you in danger, how he’s afraid you’ll catch on to his real feelings, how he believes it’s easier when Sam is there to run interference and prevent too much of Dean’s hand from being shown.

It’s all just noise, though. Because there’s no way Dean loves you. He’d said he didn’t. He’d said you were his friend and nothing more, he’d shot you down, he’d apologized and told you the feeling would fade, because it was just a crush, and it would pass.

You’d spent months forcing yourself to be okay with that. You couldn’t make him love you. It would kill you to contort and reshape yourself into someone he would want, and if you did go down that path there was a chance you’d come out the other side someone he hated. 

You’d lost sleep reminding yourself that Dean loving you was not something you were owed. That you were lucky he cared about you enough to be your friend, and to let you down gently. He could’ve been cruel, and listed every reason you were vile and repulsive and had no right to be his. He could’ve told you to pack your bags and leave the bunker. 

And you’d tried to move on, because you owed him that much. You’d failed, but you tried.

He’d always stopped you. At countless bars he’d stepped between you and whoever you were flirting with, telling you Sam was drunk and they had to go now, or you all had an early drive in the morning and had to go now, or you just had to go now.

Sam had never really looked that drunk. 

Dean had always guided you out of the bar with a possessive hand on your lower back.

He’d rejected you, and he’d never let you get over him. 

As if he-

“Sam.” Your tone is harsh and cold. You don’t care. “How long has- Have I been in love with m-“ You correct yourself again with your own name, your voice dropping another octave, and there’s a long pause over the speaker.

“Forever, dude. You told me that like, day one you were whipped. I mean- You know that. Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You snap. You’re barely breathing. “Sam, I need you to feed the cat.”

For a second, you think the call dropped and that the plan hadn’t worked. The plan needed to work. You needed to get back into your own body so you could fucking kill Dean-

“Dean, we don’t have a cat. You’re allergic-“

“Sparky. In storage room nine. He needs food.”

“Spar- I don’t- What- Did-“ Sam snaps your name, and your heart jumps into your throat. “Did she tell you something? Did you get her drunk again? Because you know she’ll kill you when she gets sober, she hates it when you do that-“

You know exactly what Sam’s trying to accuse you—accuse Dean—of. You get loose-lipped when you drink. You tell secrets and lose your filter, and you always feel horrible in the morning because they’re rarely your secrets and the lack of filter is really embarrassing.

Dean’s told you it’s adorable. That he likes drunk you, because she’s honest and takes somehow less shit than sober you. That she’s you in the rawest form, and its’s awesome.

You can’t believe you ever bought that he didn’t have any feelings for you at all.

“There’s wet food in the pantry, behind all the cabbage and carrots. Should be enough for Sparky until I get home.” You push on, narrowing your eyes at the air. “Scoop the litter box too. I think I forget.”

“You- You’ve never been in the pantry. That’s why we-“ Sam cuts himself off, and you can hear the gears spinning in his brain over the phone. 

Then he says your name, and there’s an element of horror in his voice that feels pretty appropriate. 

“Thank fuck.” You mutter, and take your chances to try and just say it. “Code Vermilion, Sam.”

“Code- That’s a zombie situation, are there-“

“Shit- sorry.” You chew on your tongue, trying to recall the emergency system you’d fucking designed. “Code Puce.”

“You fucking body swapped?!” There is it. Thank God. “Why didn’t you just, you know, say that-“

“I couldn’t!” You were shouting, but Sam was also shouting, so it was only fair. “I called you all day on my phone, and the moment I tried to, the call dropped! I tried to email or text you and it never sent, I tried to fucking snail mail you and the letter burst into flames! Dean short-circuited a fax machine-“

Sam groans. “Shit, you’re gonna kill me. I mean Dean, Dean’s gonna kill me. I was never supposed to tell,” Sam says your name, then cuts himself off with another groan. “Fuck, I mean you, I wasn’t supposed to tell you- God damn it-“

“Sam.” Your voice has become clipped. Short. You don’t need a reminder of the previous conversation, and this just really needs to be over. “If I email you all the details, can you start looking for fixes?”

“Yeah, sure, just-“ He pauses, his voice dropping sightly. “You think emails gonna work now?”

“We’re talking about it and the call’s not dropping.” You shrug, even though he can’t see it. “Text me any solutions you have. I’ll keep you updated on my end, and when Dean gets home, make him sleep on the floor of your room and don’t let him go to the bathroom alone. Okay?”

“Oh- Wait-“ Sam says your name, and you can hear the confusion in his voice. “What do you mean when Dean gets home-“

“I mean when Dean gets home. Bye, Sam.” 

You hang up, and spend a long minute just staring at the wall.

Dean’s in love with you. Sam says Dean’s in fucking love with you, and you believe him, and you-

You can’t stay here. 

This needs to be fixed, but you cannot stay here. 

You open the door to the hall. And there he is. There you are, and your body—Dean’s body, the one that’s allegedly in love with you—is leaning forward to be closer to you. To Dean.

Fuck.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Dean frowns at you, pulling your lips down into a pouty frown. It makes your dick—Dean’s dick—twitch in his pants. 

“Tell you what?”

You brace your whole body, standing a little taller. “That you love me.”

“That I-“ Dean’s eyes narrow, and you’ve never been on the receiving end on your own glare. It’s more violent than you’d imagined, and his dick is twitching again. “What the hell did Sammy say to you-“

“Don’t blame Sam.” You snap. “Answer me.”

“You didn’t ask a freakin’ question, sweetheart-“

“Yes. I did.” You lean down a little, holding Dean’s gaze. “Were you ever going to tell me you’re in love with me.”

Dean stares at you, and you think he’s going to deny it. That he’ll grunt that you’ve had this conversation before, and he doesn’t love you. That he doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and whatever Sam said was a joke. Just a prank, and you need to focus on fixing this body swap instead of your feelings.

What he does is worse. 

He shakes his head, refuses to meet your eyes, and pushes his words through his teeth.

“You were never supposed to know.” He mutters. “It was for your own good-“

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!” Your voice is a roar, and you make yourself flinch, but Dean doesn’t.

He’s in your body. 

You never flinch when Dean shouts, because you know he’d never actually hurt you-

You’re going to start fucking crying. You probably already would have, if it didn’t feel like an effort in Dean’s body.

“You- You broke my heart.” You glare at him, your voice half between a hiss and a whisper. “You told me you’d never seen me that way, and you apologized. You said you didn’t want me. You told me the feeling would pass, and then you fucking stopped it-“ Your voice raises, and you stand a little taller. You can be shattered and furious. You can be a fucking storm of glass to break and carve into Dean the same way he did to you, because how could he do this to you. “You fucking stopped me from moving on! You cockblocked me, and you got angry whenever I’d go out without you, and you kept touching me and acting like everything was fine-“

Dean says your name slowly, and you can hear the regret in his voice, but you don’t care. This hurts, this hurts so much worse than before because you’d felt insane, you’d driven yourself mad with love for Dean and he’d just tightened the straitjacket and acted like you’d find a cure for this when he’d been actively keeping it from you-

“Why the fuck would you do this?! Do you hate me? Am I really that horrible that you can’t stand the idea of being in love with me-“

“It’s not you.” Dean snaps your name, shaking his head. “It’s- I was keeping you fucking safe-“

“Fuck off-“

“No!” His voice—your voice—is trying to mimic your own shout, and it’s not really working in his favor. “You- you don’t fucking get it, sweetheart, if I let us do that, let us be that, you’d have a target on your back, every son of a bitch in hell and heaven would use you and hurt you, just to get to me-“

“I’m not stupid! I know what the risks are just associating with Winchesters, and I don’t care.” You rub your face, and everything hurts. You feel like you’re choking on the air, and you can’t be here. “I didn’t care, Dean, I just wanted you.”

“You would’ve cared.” His voice—your voice—is bitter. Hollow. Resolved. “When you were being tortured and murdered, you would’ve cared. And I would’ve had to live with it. With the fact that I lost you-“

“You wouldn’t have lost me, Dean.” You fish the keys to the Impala out of your pocket, and toss them to him with his phone. “You never would’ve lost me, if you’d actually fucking tried.”

It would be kinder to let him get in a word, or a protest, or even a sort of apology. But everything hurts, and you really can’t fucking stay here or you’ll rip off your skin—Dean’s skin—and beat in your own skull with your hands. 

Your real skull—holding Dean’s mind—with how raw and furious this pain is, or Dean’s real skull with self-inflicted pain.

And that’s why you’re past kindness. You’ve been shot and choked and stabbed and sliced to pieces, but this is the worst pain you’ve ever know. He was never supposed to hurt you. You’d always trusted that this huge lunk of a body would never hurt you.

But you hadn’t counted on Dean, and how he’d been willing to risk your of peace of mind for his misguided, self-sacrificing martyr bullshit.

You’d always tried to tell him that you didn’t want him to sacrifice for you. That him staying with you meant more than him leaving you alive, but alone.

And he’d never listened.

So now you’re walking away.

Dean will be fine. He’ll get your body safely back to the bunker, tell Sam everything that happened, and figure out how to justify this to himself.

Sam will make sure nothing happens to your body until this gets fixed. And you’ll take care of Dean’s body by yourself, far away from Kansas, hiding in a shitty little harbor town until you work this out.

Alone.

Just like Dean had wanted.

For a long week, time drags to a crawl. You hole in a motel room with a laptop, coffee and vodka—you don’t really care which on you’re drinking when your go for a glass, just as long as it’s one of them—about half of a gas station’s junk food supply, and the local library’s entire collection of books of cult, myth, and lore.

The motel is dusty and warm, and the nights are horrible and cold, but this is what you needed. You stop running into doorways and hitting your head on things, and you figure out how to sleep comfortably in his body. You learn how to go to the bathroom and barely touch or think about what you’re doing, how to not get weirded out when the same face you see in your dreams is the same one that greets you in the mirror.

And you miss him. A lot.

But your fury is stronger than the ache for him to return to your side. And there’s a slightly fucked up comfort to being trapped in his body. You can watch the hands you’ve had graphic and detailed dreams about sort through papers, and you can bite your lips and understand what that sensation would do to Dean’s body.

You never cross that line. Dean’s cock will call itself to attention at random time, and you’ll just ignore it, no matter how demanding it feels. 

You’re getting really good at ignoring things.

Calls. Texts. Voicemail after voicemail from Sam and Dean. You listen to one or two, just to check—they’re fine, just angry you’ve vanished and demanding to know where you are—and delete all the rest. Sam gives up after a few days, when you respond to his email about Eurasian body swapping lore with a list of your own working theories. 

You think he’s just happy to know you’re alive.

This doesn’t seem to be the case for Dean. 

He doesn’t stop trying to get you to pick up the phone. His voicemails get longer and longer, and his texts come more and more frequently, and the only thing that save him from being blocked is that you still love him.

You’d meant what you said. Dean would never lose you, not really. You’re just certain that if you talk to him or see him he’ll try to explain himself, and you don’t want an explanation. You just fucking want him, and as long as he’s going to keep pretending that’s something he can’t give you, he doesn’t get to have you at all. 

So you keep the door locked, keep your phone on silent, and just fucking work until you fix this. 

And when you do, you don’t bother with a warning. You find the exact curse, work out the ritual for reversal, and do it. 

The world blur, your head spins and Dean’s body seizes like it’s been struck by lightning, and that’s it.

You’re in the bunker library, lying on the floor as Sam hovers over you, and it’s over.

“Dean, what the-“ Sam jostles you slightly, and a little vomit shoots up your throat. After effects. “Dean-“

“Not Dean.” You mumble your own name, shoving Sam’s hands away from your face and pushing yourself upright. “I fixed it.”

“You-“ Sam shakes his head, scanning over you with a frown. “You fixed it?”

“Obviously.” You rub your temple, your head pounding and everything far too bright. “Dean’ll be in Sekiu, Washington.”

“Why-“

“Because that’s where I was-“

“I know that.” Sam snaps, giving you a glare. “Why are you telling me. You’re the one going to get him.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m-“

“You are.” Sam’s making a stern bitch-face. He’s about to get punched. “Because either you act like an adult and go talk to Dean, or he stays in Washington until you grow up.”

“Until I-“ You give Sam a look of pure disbelief. “He’s the one who lied to me! Why do I have to grow up-“

“Because it’s Dean. You know he wasn’t trying to hurt you-“

“But he did.” You rub your arms for comfort, and God, it’s nice to be back in your own body. You know where to pinch your own skin to keep your head right, and you can cross your legs without any discomfort, shielding your face from Sam by bowing your head and letting your hair take care of the rest. “He was just going to let me think he didn’t love me, that he didn’t care-“

“You know he cared.” Sam says, his voice still firm, but a little more gentle. “He does care. He spent the whole week trying to figure out how to fix this, and when I told him to stop calling you he told me to shove it, because he needed to work this out. He’s just-“ Sam sighs. “He’s Dean.”

“I know.” You chew on your lips, frowning at the floor. “But it’s- It wasn’t fair, Sam. It was mean. It- I don’t feel loved. I just feel like he didn’t love me- didn’t want me enough to do something about it.”

“Okay.” Sam shrugs. “Tell him that. Or just kick his ass, because he deserves it, or make out with him. I don’t care, as long you go pick up Dean, and I get my week off.”

You give him a flat look. “You just want your secret spa time-“

“Yeah, I do. Get out.”

“But-“

“You get to drive the Impala again. The keys are in your pocket.”

Your hand flies to your jeans, and they are. And Sam’s right, you do have to work this out somehow. If you leave the bunker, you’ll be abandoning the secret cat to Sam, and it’ll die within the week.

So you’re either kill Dean or-

You don’t let yourself think of the alternative. You’ve trained yourself not to. 

But it doesn’t stop the spark of hope in your chest when you start Baby’s engine, take a long breath, and head out to go get Dean.

End Note: Sam I hope you have a wonderful secret spa day, you've earned it my king.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[jeveuxlamort]

Warning, rambling about the death note musical below i am mostly go on about my views on the english lyrics of the 2015 demo, and comparing them to my view of the japanese lyrics, so if anything I say contradicts newer changes, please let me know (also probably should have a general idea of how the musical is structured compared to the original story I realized afterwards I did not mention a ton of context)

(incredibly unstructured thoughts below)

on one hand, I adore the death note musical.

on the other hand, I abhor the english lyrics (yes I know the english version what technically created first) and how Light is characterized in “where is the justice”.

I wish his true motivation, boredom, had stayed the main focus of his motives, if they really wanted to they could have him say flowery things to the class and then have his actual motivations be mentioned, but they make it out like he has issues with the system? which he never really did? he latched the idea of ridding the world of crime (and in his eyes, evil) after he realized the death note worked, but he wasn’t someone who was actively challenging it before he got the death note (and imo he wasn’t really challenging anything after he got it). I personally hate the reasoning of “oh the motivation is different to fit with America” like?? a bored kid who is very gifted academically obtains supernatural powers and uses it to punish people he claims to be evil, can and does still work?? if they didn’t think it would work with America as a setting just have the musical still be set in Japan?? like Phantom of the Opera or Les Mis are performed in other countries that arent France but are obviously french?

ALSO hurricane is just… straight into murder mode without anything else from Light? nothing about the lyrics make me go “yes, this is actually light talking and this is his thought process after discovering the death note works” he goes straight into “I will use this power to rid the world of evil” instead of the moral conflict he had that led him into that thought process? he literally couldn’t handle the idea that he killed two men so he went “well actually they deserved it and I am the only person who could use this the right way” (dumbed down significantly but you get the point) just PLEASE I AM BEGGING FOR A LITTLE NUANCE THAT IS IN THE ORIGINAL STORY (and is in the japanese lyrics btw)

and (imo) L is also?? kinda off??? the english lyrics for “the game begins” just has generic lines that come across like “hey everyone, just so you know, im the detective, and I detect things, with my brain” like nothing about how he views kira, no personality to how things are said, just generic detective speak

(I personally prefer the japanese lyrics, which seem to draw a lot from his musings about kira, where he ultimately decides kira has to be human and cannot be a supernatural force. it just gives so much more insight into his thoughts than just explaining how a detective works)

(edit: also ties into “the unshakable/unwavering truth” and his shock at the existence of shinigami but still believing kira is human and separate from them)

also, why are so many of his lyrics 3rd wall breaks? why is that a thing? the first time it was amusing? but he does it so often??

misa and rem are pretty good overall, my only gripes are that the lyrics don’t feel like lyrics that can only make sense in the context of death note, if that makes sense? like, if you know what going on the lyrics will fit, but if you heard the songs outside of any knowledge of death note they just sound like generic songs that could have been written for anyone? (not just misa and rem’s songs but a few others as well) there are a couple of lines in each song that are more specific to the context, but I just wish they were further intertwined with the story

(again, the japanese lyrics are great with this)

overall, the english demo lyrics feel like a game of telephone where a lot of overall details were kept but other details/ideas were just brushed over and they filled in the blanks with what they thought fit with the story and went “eh, close enough”

(i do have thoughts on the other songs but i mostly just wanted to talk about L and Light atm)

[aleatoryw]

getting blazed as fuck in public, thinking "boy I sure hope no one knows how high I am right now", and then having the jumpscare of your life when duolingo gives you this notification

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[justladders]

This is your protagonist, everyone. This is the man sap that we’re supposed to cheer for.

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[mouseshift]

[tagerrkix]

rage.