#the musketeers preference

[justanoasisimagines]

The Musketeers - You kiss their neck!

Hey lovelies, back with another preference! Requested by anon! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Athos; Athos melts instantly. The usually stoic and composed man melts whenever you kiss his neck. Athos enjoys kissing you. When you're in private Athos will kiss you whenever he gets the opportunity. However, neck kisses are a particular favorite of his. If you tell the others, however, he will deny it.

Aramis; Aramis smirks when you kiss his neck. He loves it when you instigate things. His arms immediately wrap around you drawing you close. He likes it whenever you initiate any physical contact. He enjoys it whenever his lovers are assertive.

D'Artagnan; D'Artagnan smiles, he's a little taken aback especially if you've not done it before. It would take him a minute to get used to it. But soon he leans into your affection. He'll begin to enjoy you kissing his neck. Maybe he'll even vocalize his desire for you to do it more.

Porthos; Porthos smiles when you begin to kiss his neck. He lives for moments like this. When you two can get a moment alone. Porthos shamelessly leans into it. Often whispering sweet nothings to you. He wants to encourage you. He wants you to feel confident to do it again. Porthos doesn't brag about you to the others, however, it's clear when you walk into the room.

Captain Treville; Captain Treville is used to being in control. So when you kiss his neck, he doesn't know how to react at first. Does he enjoy it? Yes. He would prefer it if he instigated things first. However, in those moments Treville needs to learn how to let go. Which he will do over time.

[witchthewriter]

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

(requests are open❕)

smut ✅ (18+ only)

comissions

𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩-𝑢𝑝 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑?                    

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈

                                               ⸻ ✶✺✮ ⸻

𝐴𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑟

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

who I think the characters would be best suited to

when you, their crush, is confused by their avatar body would include

⭑ Jake Sully ⇢ sfw alphabet 

⭑ Neytiri  ⇢ being her mate would include

⭑ Neteyam ⇢ being his mate would include

𝑩𝑮𝟑

⭑ Astarion ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Halsin ⇢ being his s/o would include

𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔

⭑ Charles Vane ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝐵𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟

⭑ Spike ⇢ w/ a tall and/or chubby gf would include

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒖𝒕𝒚

🇶​🇺​🇮​🇿​

Who Is Your COD Soulmate?

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

cod men as character archetypes 

how you wake them up

random relationship headcanons

text story: you don’t want to do something while they’re on deployment

how they react to you falling asleep on them; pre-relationship

scary dog privledge

ᴘᴏʟʏ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ  

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

⭑ John Price

⭑ Kyle Garrick ⇢ being in a relationship would include

⭑ Simon Riley ⇢ poly relationship w/ him & johnny ⇢ random relationship headcanons

⭑ Johnny MacTavish ⇢poly relationship w/ him & simon

⭑ König ⇢ random relationship headcanons

𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚

⭑ Ruhn Danaan ⇢ being his Mate would include

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎

soulmate quiz 

⭑ Boyd Stevens ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Jade Herrera ⇢ being his only friend would include

⭑ Kenny Liu ⇢ will they won’t they w/ kenny

⭑ Victor Kavanaugh ⇢ being his bestie would include

⭑ Randal Kirkland ⇢ being a nurse & his s/o

𝐺𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

what pets they’d have w/ you would include

who I think the characters would be best suited to

how they act when jealous (sandor & sansa only)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.1)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.2)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.3)

⭑ Jaime Lannister ⇢ meeting your family for the first time would include

⭑ Podrick Payne ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Sandor Clegane ⇢ being in queen sansa’s council w/ him, your husband, would include

𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

how they react to their s/o using an Unforgivable Curse

how they react to their s/o getting into a fist fight would include

the gryffindors as fathers would include

what kind of music I think they’d listen to

domestic headcanons w/ the hp characters

🇲​🇦​🇷​🇦​🇺​🇩​🇪​🇷​ 🇵​🇷​🇪​🇫​🇪​🇷​🇪​🇳​🇨​🇪​🇸​

their pet names for you

⭑ Harry Potter ⇢ your wedding w/ him would include

⭑ Fred Weasley ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔

⭑ Johanna Mason ⇢ being her s/o would include

𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

first time with them would include (18+ post)

the characters falling in love with their enemy would include

the dragons as parents would include

⭑ Rhaenyra Targaryen ⇢ being married to her would include ⇢ being one of her Ladies in Waiting would include

⭑ Daemon Targaryen ⇢ being the rider of Vermithor and in a poly relationship w/ him & daemon would include

⭑ Aemond Targaryen ⇢ being the rider of Vermithor and in a poly relationship w/ him & daemon would include ⇢ with a plus size s/o would include

⭑ Otto Hightower ⇢ sfw alphabet

⭑ Cregan Stark ⇢ being Rhaenyra’s only daughter and marrying Cregan would include

⭑ Gwayne Hightower ⇢ being Gwayne’s dragonrider wife would include

⭑ Alys Rivers ⇢ being Alys’ best friend would include

⭑ Benjicot Bracken ⇢ being his wife would include

⭑ Balerion ⇢ being bonded would include

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎

🇶​🇺​🇮​🇿​

Which of The Last Kingdom Characters Is Your Soulmate?

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

spending yule w/ them would include

⭑ Uhtred ⇢ being his warrior s/o would include

⭑ Sihtric ⇢ being your husband would include

⭑ Finan ⇢ loving you from afar would include

⭑ Osferth ⇢ with a s/o who is the opposite of him would include

⭑ Aldhelm

⭑ Aethelflaed

⭑ Eadith

⭑ Ragnar

⭑ Sigtryggr

⭑ Leofric

𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Galadriel ⇢ being her human s/o would include

⭑ Legolas ⇢ seeing his knight s/o scars for the first time would include

⭑ Samwise ⇢ being a hobbit & his s/o would include

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙 / 𝑀𝐶𝑈

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

sharing a bed for the first time with the marvel characters would include

⭑ Valkyrie ⇢ sfw alphabet

⭑ Loki ⇢ w/ a plus size soulmate would include

𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

what kind of music I think the knights would listen to

how they would react to someone insulting their spouse

⭑ Merlin ⇢ comfort headcanons

⭑ Morgana ⇢ sfw alphabet ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & guinevere would include

⭑ Guinevere ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & morgana would include

𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒂

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

Edmund, Peter, Caspian & Eustace fighting over you would include

𝑆𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 & 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

the crows and the one bed trope

how they act when the characters have a crush on you 

⭑ Jesper Fahey ⇢ being his pirate s/o would include ⇢ snuggling w/ him would include

⭑ Nina Zenik ⇢ with a grisha best friend who has chronic pain would include

⭑ Genya Saffin ⇢ jealous headcanons

⭑ The Darkling ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑦

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

their pet names for you

the one bed trope

what kind of person I think they’re best suited to

how they react to you punching someone in the face

𝑻𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒐

⭑ Jamie Tartt ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ being Keeley’s s/o would include

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Porthos ⇢ being a healer and his s/o would include

⭑ Constance ⇢ being married to her would include

𝑇𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Stiles Stilinksi ⇢ being his witch s/o would include

𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⭑ Charlie ⇢ being in love with a female vampire would include

𝑃𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Captain Jack Sparrow ⇢ w/ a chaotic s/o who has been there since the very beginning would include

⭑ Tia Dalma ⇢ growing up in Port Royal & being her s/o would include

⭑ Syrena ⇢ being her best friend would include

𝑉𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

being in a secret relationship w/ them (rollo & ubbe only)

⭑ Bjorn ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include | how you met (pt.1)

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Michonne ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & Rosita would include

⭑ Rosita  ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & Michonne would include

⭑ Negan ⇢ deciding that he only wants you as a wife would include

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒐 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

⭑ Nadja ⇢ with a shy s/o would include

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓

⭑ Geralt ⇢ giving you a bath would include

𝑾𝑾𝑬

⭑ Rhea Ripley ⇢ nsfw alphabet

[onlyasgoodasmygod]

Back in the day, I did some palletes for "Skullgirls". Time to show it to the world (again).

This set is mostly anime-based. Mostly.

The first one to go is Annie as Nyo!Canada from "Hetalia". Her sword represents the power of maple syrup.

Then, it's a "Spy x Family" set. Black Dahlia as Yor (because, well, both technically share a profession), Adam as Twilight (the similarities are undeniable), and Annie as Anya (Umbrella might be an official choice, but I thought it would be interesting to reimagine the Star Child like another Star Child).

"Albert the Fifth Musketeer" is not an anime, but nothing can stop me from colouring Umbrella as its main character (with Hungern as the donkey).

Finally, here's Black Dahlia as Lorelei Lee from "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". I remember reading an article about the costumes in this movie. They did some very impressive work. I tried to base the colour on the outfits for "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend", both the proposed one and the one that got into the film.

[attila-werther]

anyway on the topic of enjoying potato chip fiction, there is nothing I love more than a gay mini series that only asks for half a braincell from me. this plot is held together by a singular piece of tape and I'm here for it.

[mystiika]

chuckles tag drop

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Sup Currently im writing a military themed story and I want to know some useful phrases and (maybe???) some links to useful thingies. I am wrapping my head around researching way too much but I dont want to make my writing unrealistic T-T So any advice for that?

Some Military Vocabulary

terminology and slang

Aide-de-camp - a member of the personal staff of a general officer, acting as his confidential assistant

Blue Falcon - Someone who betrays you (buddy f’er)

Clandestine - Military activities intended to be kept secret or concealed

Chamade - Drumbeat of surrender

Chest candy - Decorations or awards on an officer’s dress uniform

Dream sheet - Job and assignment preference worksheet for cadets

Élan - A high-spirited morale usually associated with exceptionally self-confident and elite units

Expectant - A soldier who is expected to die from their injuries

Feu de joie - French phrase meaning 'fire of joy' describing a firing of muskets one after another, closely timed to make a continuous noise, in celebration

Garrison - A a military post, especially one that is permanently established; the troops stationed at a military post

Ground zero - Point of origin for violent activity (such as where a bomb hits); specific point directly below explosion of a nuclear weapon

Hangfire - Wait for orders

Infantry - A branch of an army whose soldiers are organized, trained and equipped to fight on foot

Insurrection - The process of rising up to challenge one’s own government

Jeep - Soldier just out of basic training

Meat wagon - Ambulance

Mess hall - Hall where service members eat their meals

Moonbeam - Flashlight

NVD - Night Vision Device

Oxygen thief - Recruit who talks too much

Sky blossom - Parachute

Smoke - To punish a soldier excessively for a minor infraction

Soup sandwich - A situation that was poorly planned or has gone terribly wrong

WTHR - Weather

Zone of fire - A particular area where a unit delivers or is about to deliver fire

Some Military & Warfare Tropes

False Flag Operation: Attacking another nation and making it look like someone else did it.

Peeling Potatoes: The commanding officer makes subordinates peel potatoes when they get out of line.

Sealed Orders: Sensitive orders aren't relayed until the last moment to prevent intel leaks.

War Is Hell: The work depicts war in a negative light, such as emphasizing that people get killed in wars and demonstrating the trauma suffered by those forced to endure the bloodshed.

We Have Reserves: This particular military doesn't consider it a big deal to have soldiers die so long as replacements are easy to obtain.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some references, do go through the links because there are so many more interesting ones I wasn't able to include here. Finding that balance when researching a story can definitely be a challenge. As you write, I think one thing that could help is to keep in mind your target audience. Would the flow be disrupted by adding a certain detail? Would it be better just to exclude it? For instance, including jargon or terminology that your readers may not be familiar with, but might be necessary for your story/character. So find that balance to retain it but in a way that includes some sort of explanation for your reader (e.g., through another character or through the narrator). And here are some tips to help guide you with the tropes in this genre (and the genre, in general). Hope this helps with your writing!

Update. DOD Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms ⚜ Naval Abbreviations ⚜ YouTube Channel: Military-Related. Thank you to @anumberofhobbies for these additional references!

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 92

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(Author's Notes)

Panel 1: At the mouth of the alleyway are the three riders from the beginning of the chapter: a dragonborn with a musket, a rogue, and a war cleric of the Raven Queen.

Cleric: burn the abomination cleanse the stain of the unholy Matron lend me your holy fire burn them both

Gunslinger: We'll give you one chance, purple girl. You can come back to Gelvaan peacefully, or in pieces. Up to you.

Imogen: You sure about that? Your righteous friend there seems to be thinkin' awful hard about settin' everything on fire.

Cleric: Witch! Begone from my thoughts!

Gunslinger: You're only wanted for questioning -- so far. And to be straight with you, you're worth more alive than dead. So I'd prefer to settle this the easy way, if it's all the same to you.

Panel 2: Imogen puts out her arm to shield Laudna. From an overhead perspective we can see there’s not another way out of the alley.

Imogen: If I come with you, what's gonna happen to Laudna?

Gunslinger: . . . You named your zombie? That's kinda messed up.

Imogen: She's not a zombie!

Cleric: The undead abomination is to be destroyed.

Imogen: No deal, then.

Gunslinger: what is even going on with this thrall she's got it dressed up all nice is this a kink thing ugh gross

Cleric: unclean unclean unclean

Rogue: haha what a freak

Panel 3: While Imogen tries to think Laudna starts cajoling her silently.

Laudna: Imogen, go. Please. Take the chance while you can.

Imogen: No!

Laudna: I'll be all right. I've gotten out of tighter spots than this before.

Imogen: Laudna, I am not leavin’ you.

Panel 4: Imogen grits her teeth, struggling to sort her own thoughts from the tangle of everyone else’s.

Rogue: What's it gonna be, sweetie pie? What do you wanna do?

Gunslinger: Might be easier to kill 'em both and figure it out later have to get 'em back to Gelvaan to collect the bounty though maybe just the hair?

Laudna: Imogen just go I'll be all right

Cleric: Matron of holy death, in your name shall I strike down this affront to the sanctity of the grave and destroy this monster

Rogue: Dibs on her coat

Imogen: I want --

Panel 5: Unable to stand it any longer, she presses her hands to her ears and screams, reflecting the cacophony back at everyone.

Imogen: -- everyone to just SHUT UP for a minute!

Panel 6: The unintended psychic onslaught of “witch, freak, monster” reverberates into the mind of the nearest person -- Laudna. She recoils in pain and fear, her eyes spilling over with inky tears as a trickle of blood starts from her nose.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Oaths

My first Bruce Wayne fic! I kind of pictured this taking place in his early years as Batman. ~1k words

When Bruce Wayne watches his parents die at eight years old, he vows to never let someone die in front of him again. It's a useless vow, one he fails time and time again to keep.

Yet, he makes the same vow over and over. With every eye that loses its light in front of him, he swears to be better, stronger, faster, so he never fails anyone who needs ever again.

Bruce carries each loss on his shoulders. He repeats the list of names to himself in the quiet moments, in the darkness that lingers as he races from crime to crime.

Some names are strangers. Some are friends. But the heaviest ones to bear are always his family's.

If he had just been more, more than himself, more than just a man, maybe he'd be able to fall into a restful sleep for once. But Bruce Wayne is not more. He is a human among gods. A mortal surrounded by death and power and chaos.

So he throws himself into being better. Trains himself until his muscles and bones fail him. Throws every dime he's ever had into the newest technology.

His life would be nothing but an endless cycle of training, fighting, lavish parties, and lies, if not for you.

You. His childhood friend. The third musketeer to him and Harvey. The person who treats him like he never left Gotham.

You never ask questions. Never push him for more than he can give. Always seem to be willing to drop your plans in favor of him.

It's almost intoxicating, but he does his best to stuff his feelings down, to pretend that the sight of you dressed to the nines for one of his charity galas doesn't make his mouth go dry and his head spin.

(He doesn't think he can be blamed for not being a model playboy, philanthropist when you're occupying all his attention)

There's something about the way you smile, the way the room seems to focus on your very existence, that has him unable to cut you from his life. It's a weakness. One Batman cannot have. But it's one Bruce Wayne certainly does.

He skips meetings at Wayne Tower for you. (Not that he wanted to go anyway) He cuts back on what little sleep he gets just to see you for brunch.

He invites you as his guest to various events. (Sure, it's under the guise of publicity, driven by the fact that you're one of Gotham's shiniest stars, but you both know he prefers your company over anyone else)

What Bruce does not compromise on, though, is his nights. His days are for you, but his nights are for Gotham. He vows you will never be caught in the crossfire of his double life. This is the line, a barrier between him and The Bat. One he cannot and will not let you cross.

That barrier crumbles to dust when your name is listed among the hostages at your favorite club. His heart is his throat as he tears over Gothams rooftops, his focus entirely on getting to you.

It's not a vow on his lips, but a prayer. A prayer that you won't be a casualty in a territory war he caused by taking out Falcone just last week.

He feels stupid. Inexperienced. He knew the fallout would be difficult to manage, but never considered it would risk your life. He should have told you to stay home, should have given you a panic button, anything to keep you safe.

But he didn't. Didn't even have a plan for it. So, he has to save you. Has to make at least one vow true. Has to stop you from being a victim of his crusade.

He's efficient, when he cuts the power to the club, plunging it into darkness. He's brutal, more brutal than he's ever been when he takes out each hired hand like they're simple training dummies.

He breaks guns over heads, uses his untested, electrified batarangs. He drives himself to the limits to ensure every person's attention is entirely focused on him, and not the vulnerable hostages– on you.

He sends a message with each bone he breaks, each punch that knocks the air from their lungs, every kick that sends them flying into the wall.

It's a message they don't understand, but one that's clear as day to him, The Bat and Bruce Wayne are inexplicably linked, and at the center of it is you.

You. He nearly crashes at the sight of you, once the goons are left moaning and curled on the floor.

You're safe, a little worse for wear, hair mused, and clothes rumpled, but you're alive, and none of his scans pick up any major bleeding or life threats. He doesn't quite know what to do with the awed, mystified look in your eyes, but you're coherent, and that's what he cares about.

It's a bad idea, but Batman personally escorts the hostages (namely you) to the police and paramedics waiting outside. (And if he steps on a few fingers along the way, no one says a word about it)

He can't help himself, even as his better judgment tells him to leave, to take care of the other violence sure to be happening around the city. But it's you. His– his something.

He will not name it. He will not dare delude himself into more.

So he lingers in the shadows. Stays poised on the balls of his feet when you're finally allowed to leave the scene. He selfishly follows you every step of the way until you're safe in your own home. Only then does he let you out of his sight.

The line between Batman and Bruce Wayne only blurs more, when he shows up at your door in the morning with coffee and breakfast, claiming to have heard about the situation from the news.

He decides it hardly matters what is fact or not, because you hug him, express how grateful you are to see him.

The smile on your face makes him engrave another vow onto his soul, one he intends to keep. Bruce Wayne will cross lines to protect you. He will blur what is Batman and what is him to keep you safe. And you will never, ever know it.

[ashomodeus]

Hellloooo party people

Here's a post probably my last post for 2024. I'm so sad to see Obey me go but I will not let this game die.

Here's a small story with ALL THE BROS THE DATEABLES AND THE THREE MUSKETEERS. I'm sorry if it's rushed I just wanted to get something out for all you.

Thank you Beyonce, geek bar that's cherry flavored, and all of you guys

Here's with bad grammar

The brothers, dateables, and The three musketeers' Favorite poistions

Lucifer

Doggy style: self-explanatory

♡He just loves to be able to control pacing.

♡He loves watching Mc try to stay balanced as he just forces himself deeper. It turns him on to no end when Mc is bent over. Oh to just stuff Mc with his hard cock.

♡ The best way to get him away from his work. He stays focused on Mc.

♡ He occasionally loves slapping Mc’s ass and just seeing it shake.

♡ Mc tries to muffle their moans by shoving their face on pillows but Lucifer wants them to hear.

Mammon

Hot seat: Mammon sits down on a chair; preferably his car while Mc sits on his lap facing the other way.

♡ His car Duh

♡ His human also Duh

♡ His dick just grows at the thought of fucking Mc while he’s in his driver side.

♡ He loves to grab Mc by the hair while he pounds into them as he marks his human.

♡ He loves seeing every part of them bounce as their thighs clap together.

♡ This also means Mc can’t sit on Mammon’s lap because he will definitely get hard with those unholy thoughts.

Levi

Pretzel dip: Mc lies on their side then Levi kneels between their thighs straddling their bottom leg. Mc thigh rest on Levi’s hip.

♡ This awkward position might look awkward and feel awkward at first but it gives Levi so much confidence.

♡ It’s just like him and it would make him feel comfortable if Mc expressed awkwardness at first but slowly as they both begin to not worry.

♡ Levi can thrust as hard as he wants and he focuses on Mcs face.

♡ Mc admits they can feel Levi deeper and and deeper.

♡ Levi likes the contact feeling Mc’s thigh.

Satan

Standing O: While Mc is tied by the wrist standing Satan has all the freedom to go down as much as he likes.

♡ He likes to pin Mc against a wall and tie their arms up so they can’t go anywhere. It’s just something about Satan making Mc cum for the 6th time and he’s aiming for a 7th and Mc’s trying to collapse but their arms are bound and Satan can continue.

♡ He likes to have control.

♡ Mc likes this position because it helps Satan maintain his anger by being able to control someone else.

Asmo

69: self explanatory.

♡ He loves giving just as much as receiving.

♡ The position is so much more underrated than other positions. Mc and him getting hot and heavy. Desperate needy grinds against each other’s faces.

♡ Being able to explore each other while also being pleased.

♡ Asmo also enjoys just staring at said part. Admiring how good they look and taste.

♡ Loves getting hot and heavy. Always turns Mc to get on their back when they are naked. He loves to surprise them by giving them head and as they gasp in pleasure Asmo rams his cock down their throat.

Beel

Tabletop: Any surface that his crotch height for Mc.

♡ He likes to have Mc lay on their back as they take his full length and girth.

♡ He wants them to be at least comfortable while he stretches them out.

♡ This position lets him have control of pacing. He always teases Mc about which counters they have or haven’t done.

♡ He loves how no matter how much Mc weighs he can always pick them up and place them on the counter as if they are the most expensive piece of China (Because they are) and then destroying them like his dinner.

Belphie

Cow helper (gendered sex positions are no fun =( : Mc kneels on top pushing off Belphie’s chest.

♡ He likes to lay back and admire Mc. Seeing them bounce on his cock just gets him off so much more than anyone could understand.

♡ This position is great on days when he’s especially tired.

♡ On days where he has more energy he loves to guide Mc’s hips to make sure he’s hitting the right spot.

♡ He loves when Mc struggles to stay up but he always makes sure to support them.

Solomon

The snake: Mc lies on their belly As Solomon gets on top of them and fucks them.

♡ The name is just ironic. He loves being able to fuck Mc being close as possible.

♡ He loves whispering how good they feel and how good they are being.

♡ He loves giving Mc hickeys all over their back. He also loves to put an ice cube between them and watch as Mc shivers just a bit as the water drops down their back. Solomon’s warmth helps the ice melt quicker.

♡ He gets really cocky in this position making sure Mc moans his name as many times as possible.

Diavolo

Face-off: Dia sits on a chair or the edge of the bed: Mc faces them while seated on his lap.

♡ Dia likes the close contact of him and Mc being close together.

♡ He loves to make eye contact with Mc as he fucks them.

♡ He loves being able to carry Mc as the sound of their thighs smack together. Mc loves to rest their head on Dia’s shoulder when they get too flustered.

♡ Dia rarely let’s Mc hide their face he loves to hold their face and tell them how beautiful they look.

Barbatos

Mutal masturbation: Facing each other as they attempt to please themselves.

♡ Barbatos is a bit of a masochist for this position. He wants to please Mc but he needs to know exactly how.

♡ As Mc touches themselves Barb studies their movements. His cock is needy and desperate. He wants to be inside of Mc.

♡ He loves staring at Mc. His mind feels all perverted but he is actually turned on about that.

♡ Eventually Mc or Barb caves and they ended up having hours and hours of fun time.

Simeon

Lotus: Simeon sits cross legged while Mc sits on his lap and crosses their legs around him

♡ This position involves patience and skill which Simeon has both of.

♡ He loves Mc and he wants to be able to be close with them. He loves the fact that Mc has to cling on to him or it won’t feel as good.

♡ This position was an accidental discovery. When Mc was kissing Simeon, they straddled his lap then crossed their legs on him. Simeon wanted to be closer then the idea came to mind. The night turned into hours of intimate moments.

♡ Simeon will barely say it but he also loves this position because he can feel himself inside of Mc.

Mephisto

Missionary: self-explanatory

♡ This demon has everything. He’s done everything but every position feels different with Mc.

♡ Missionary is so simple and yet Mephisto enjoys this position. It’s a basic position but it brings Mc so much pleasure.

♡ During their first time together they were so desperate to be with each other but Mephisto wanted to go slow and Mc really appreciated that.

♡ He loves being able to see all of Mc’s face. Making sure that they are feeling good.

♡ He wants to give them everything and this position just shows him how much he truly loves Mc.

Raphel

Stand and deliver: Both standing Mc bends over at the waist and Raphel enters from behind.

♡ Raphel has a bit of a kink… he loved to be in control and he loves things being fast.

♡ When Mc bends over he loves holding them by the waist and just pound into them.

♡ The noises that come from doing this position are noises that play on his mind daily.

♡ He loves making sure Mc stays in this position to make sure he’s hitting the right spot.

♡ Mc loves to tease him by bending over in front of Raph in public.

♡ This just causes him to go harder on Mc. It drives him wild.

Thirteen

Seashell: Mc lies with their back legs raised all the way while Thirteen plows into them.

♡ Thirteen loves being on top. She loves making Mc lay on their back with their legs up.

♡ She uses a double sided toy so she can feel every thrust as well.

♡ She loves sending Mc links to toys that she’s going to buy for this exact position.

♡ She wants to be able to make Mc cum as many times as possible as she makes sure she cums just as much.

♡ When she’s feeling extra adventurous she makes Mc turn their head down to show Mc how much they are taking.

[cy-lindric]

bonjour cy-lindric, j'ai une petite question. when I was a young person, I read The Three Musketeers and then eagerly started to read Twenty Years After and was so upset at what had happened to my beloved young heroes that I put the book down and never picked it up. what do you think, should I try again?

Bonjour !

After reading The Three Musketeers, I also wasn't sure I wanted to read Twenty Years After, and I took a break inbetween both to read something entirely different (The Locked Tomb, iirc). I think my reason for that was kind of the opposite of yours ; I enjoyed T3M a lot and loved the characters, flaws and all, but by the end they had somewhat crossed over the line into being Too Awful and the lack of retribution left me a bit frustrated. I didn't see it as a failing of the story - on the contrary, their strong character flaws and downfall in the conflict with Milady is one of the most emotionally intense and compelling parts imo - but I wasn't sure I felt like hanging out with these guys for a few hundred more pages at that point.

If your vision of the characters as a young reader was a very positive and perhaps idealized one, I can imagine why you might not have enjoyed entering into Twenty Years after. The illusion of glory has worn off ; the characters have separated, they live unremarkable lives, and their personalities have evolved drastically with the passing of time. It's almost a brutal return to reality.

For me though, it added layers of characterization to the point where now it's clear to me that this version of the Inseparables is by far the one I prefer.

I hope it's ok if I take the opportunity to talk at length about what I like about TYA below the cut. TL;DR : I love that Twenty Years After is a more realistic look at the big four's personalities and how they evolved while still keeping them thematically coherent, and that TYA makes them confront the reckless and cruel shit they did in their youth.

Spoilers ahead obviously.

We've often talked about how T3M is at its core a story about the end of knighthood. It's a tongue-in-cheek approach at chivalrous initiation, set at edge of the modern world, inbetween the time of ballads about knights in armor and that of adventures about journeying gunmen and soldiers. I think TYA embodies that particularly ; the story of people who have carried the last of these intense, dangerous chivalric ideals in their youths, and who have now grown into middle aged adults who need to find their place in the world.

For a good chunk of the book, the big four are separated into two teams ; that in of itself might discourage some, but imo it's genius. Instead of the natural two-by-pairings, Dumas goes for a d'Artagnan+ Porthos and Athos + Aramis split on opposite sides, which makes for good drama and develops lesser explored dynamics. D'Artagnan and Porthos form a scrappy team of opportunists with money on their minds, and Athos and Aramis a more idealistic duo fighting for a noble lost cause. I think it's a bold choice but also premium sequel writing.

I also love the way the young and wild characters we knew evolve into middle aged men ; at their core, they're still the same, but they've all changed and struggled against the sunset of the golden age in their own ways.

D'Artagnan, after knowing such adventures and subsequent rapid social ascension in his teenage years, has been met in his adult life with the harsh reality that he is, in fact, not a noble knight but a soldier on payroll. His modest origins give him little hope for any further career advancement, and he takes on a new mission in his early 40s for a man he has no devotion for and a cause he doesn't care about, simply because he is bored and broke. D'Artagnan still has his quick wits, his strategic talent, his fencing skills, but he has grown out of the excesses of pride of his teenage years. I loved meeting him again in TYA, and it made so much sense to me that his bouts of anger and aggressivity would be a youthful trait that he'd ended up taming. He also realizes now a lot of what seemed like funny adventures and necessary violence was actually kind of fucked up ; that was a shock to me, as their shenanigans are treated so lightly in T3M, and tbh it healed me a little. Grown up d'Artagnan is cunning, calculating, down to earth and realistic. My foxy little man. I love him.

Porthos, likewise, has been struck by the weight of reality. He has made the sensible choice and got married to the rich widow who sugar mommied him in the first book. Now she's passed, he is rich, but he still fails to earn the respect of the high society he evolves in because he's not high born enough. Like d'Artagnan, he's stagnating and bored and now that he goes back adventuring it has nothing to do with the queen or the kingdom or honour ; it's about getting his damn nobility title.

Athos, on the other hand, is the eternal knight : the only truly high born of the four, and still hopelessly holding on to a time gone by. It's no surprise imo that his storyline brings him into the english civil war, doomed to fail at saving a king who'll end up executed right in front of him. TYA acknowledges more clearly than ever that at 28 yo, Athos was a depressed alcoholic, and an embodiment of what an excess of aristocratic righteousness can do. In TYA, he is sober and moisturized and a DILF, and now he's running around frantically looking for absolution for his numerous crimes. It's delicious.

Aramis is maybe the hardest pill to swallow. TYA confirms the T3M hints that he isn't really the prim and proper romantic boy he acts like he is, and that he's possibly the most hypocritical and ruthless of the four. It might be a harsh one for Aramis fans who like him better as a cute bean, but I love the early onset of remorseless conniving bloodthirsty ambitious Aramis. Another harsh bit might be the evolution of Aramis and d'Artagnan not really liking each other ; they were always the least close combination, and imo it makes sense that their personalities would clash. I think it's clever and compelling conflict.

Now, obviously, if you've cared enough to read all this and if you know me a little, you know that a huge highlight of the book for me was its late-appearing antagonist, Mordaunt. Mordaunt is the son Milady had with her english husband. Because of the Musketeers' intervention, he's grown up in poverty and has been denied his father's inheritance. He's now a Roundhead working for Cromwell, and set on avenging his mother at all costs. Mordaunt, unlike his mother who was this beautiful and dangerous force of nature, is very uncool and pathetic. She was the primordial snake, he's the gutter rat. Obviously, I love that in and of itself, but it's also kind of striking image of the wretchedness of what they've done to her, a fucked up little goblin ghost come back to haunt them as they're trying to make their life worth living again. This time, their enemy is not a cunning political rival with a flamboyance of body and mind akin to their own ; it's a shitty little guy with bad skin who wants to kill the king and punish the murderers. Watch out babes, it's the modern world coming for you.

Of course, they're the Four Musketeers, and they did what they had to do, so they get together again and swear friendship and keep going their way. But they're also old guys with difficult personalities in a world that's never going to be the same. I think it's a cool book.

[amazinglyashy]

"Sylus? A prankster? Get out of here-"

Pairings: Sylus x Reader, Luke and Kieran & Reader Summary: A short drabble about what goes on after all of the shady dealings, blackmail, and betrayal in the N109 zone. About how Sylus may have quickly discovered just how alike you are to the two henchmen he employs- and maybe, he isn't so different himself, either . Tags: Fluff, Pranks, Gender-neutral pronouns for Reader, Drabble Notes: I genuinely really love writing not just for Sylus, but a bit concerning the antics of Luke and Kieran. I might make some headcanon posts regarding the two of them soon actually, but we will see! Wordcount: 640

The problem was that Sylus had thought, against any sort of better judgement, really, that you were perhaps... similar to him.

He didn't think in the more obvious ways, no- he didn't think you would ever be a consistent player in black market dealings, he knew your idea of speeding was going maybe 15 over the limit at the max, and you definitely preferred nice cocktails over anything more simple like gin fizz or whiskey.

But he had thought you had a certain air of... maturity to you, that could match his own normally.

Well, you had proved him wrong.

Especially with Luke and Kieran.

He was honestly going to have to stop referring to them as the twins, and refer to the three of you as something more akin to the three musketeers.

It was a practically daily occurrence where he would wake up, and something, anything, would be out of place. Maybe the top three pairs of socks in his drawer were now mismatched, maybe the soaps in his shower were rearranged so his muscle memory would grab a bottle of conditioner instead of the shampoo and end up realizing only after he smoothed it across his damp hair. Nothing too big, but- little things.

And what made it worse, was that in joining those two little brats, you had effectively made the entire unit of you three better off. You were a horrible liar, but your brought not only a certain special brand of new ideas, but you also made it more difficult for Sylus himself.

See, he couldn't well punish the three of you with those sweet kitten eyes staring back at him if the three of you managed to get caught- and your involvement also was stirring up something... not quite new, per se. But something that had long since become dormant, and was so very rarely unearthed again throughout time.

And that was probably why you had found yourself putting on the wrong shoe on the wrong foot after visiting him occasionally, impulsively assuming that they had been left exactly how you had left them, too busy chatting with Kieran about something before you went on your way to notice ahead of time. Or maybe it was why you found your tongue turned purple in the mirror, stained such a goofily saturated color from something he had put in your portion of dinner set out at the table.

Of course, it took you a considerable amount of time to discover who was doing it- you had assumed Kieran had done it- or maybe Luke, out of revenge for not spending enough time with them, or because you had slighted them in some way. There was a small period of infighting between the three of you, before the dawning realization had come that- if it wasn't any of the three of you- who could it be...?

And while the three of you had all agreed on the same notion, that notion being that Sylus, the ruthless leader of Onychinus, did not play pranks, it was getting increasingly difficult to try and pin the blame on anyone else. Anyone else who worked for the man knew their place, or in better terms- wouldn't dare risk a silly prank directed at anyone who had a body count, or was closely associated with those with body counts.

It didn't take any of you long, however. To get past the initial disbelief-turned-shock about how Sylus was slowly joining in more and more in small little bouts of mischief- returning pranks that he received, or coming up with new ideas entirely- and start making even more of a game than it had been before. The four of you had a wonderful little game going on, and none of you seemed to want it to stop.

Not anytime soon, at least.

[hotmusketeerspoll]

Magnificent Musketeer Tournament

Cardinal Richelieu - Final Poll

Cardinal Richelieu - Tim Curry The Three Musketeers 1993

Tim Curry plays a very naughty Cardinal Richelieu. This Cardinal isn't just trying to guide the king of France, he wants the throne to himself! Never mind Louis's brother or any of the princes of the blood, his plan is foolproof! At least Curry has the panache to make us think so. Tim Curry is chewing the scenery every way he can- he's by turns pouty, menacing, playful, and over the top. "I want those men dead or alive! (Dramatic Pause) I prefer dead." "All for one, and more for me."

Cardinal Richelieu - Peter Capaldi The Musketeers 2014-2016

I will bitterly curse Doctor Who forever for taking Capaldi away after season one. The show just was not the same without his excellent scheming.

The complete list of entrants can be found here.

More information & links to the other polls here.

Additional Propaganda under the cut

Tim Curry:

Peter Capaldi:

he lived he served cunt he died he regenerated

[serpentface]

Question for Faiza: what does the average day for an Odonii priestess entail?

We wake before dawn, and most of us spend the morning working around the temple. We maintain the shrines and grounds so- tending the hearths and burning the offerings, collecting water from the spring, feeding the lions. And there's always lay visitors milling around the temple while we're doing all this, but our attendants take care of the general public interfacing so. We can mostly focus on our duties.

There's always going to be some pregnant women or the odd soldier stopping in, so you might give out blessings once? Twice? On any given day. Rarely any more than that. But sometimes, you'll be right in the middle of something important- it's always when you're in the middle of something - and then, suddenly, in wanders an entire troupe. And you hear them before you see them. They'll have brought every single weapon and piece of armor they own, so they're clanging loud enough to wake the dead. And you'll just be standing there thinking, well, this is going to be my entire morning now.

...But it's very important work of course, attending our soldiers. Give a man Odomache's blessing, and he fights more bravely alone than twenty without.

Once the temple closes, we usually spend most of the afternoon just preparing the amenchalme. So- grinding the maize, then blessing the maize, then grinding the salt, then blessing the salt, then mixing the wine, then blessing the wine, then mixing the oil, then blessing the oil... It's a little tedious, I won't lie. But I think this is our most important duty, in a way. Out of every rite we perform, day in and day out, this is the one that serves all our people. The amenchalme that blesses a whore's nameless bastard daughter at birth and the amenchalme that blesses a great lord at his wedding is the very same, made by the very same hands. So when I see priestesses shunting the task off to initiates so they can go nap on the grounds or play with their muskets...

I digress.

So, when the rest of our duties are complete, we end the day with training. This is mostly practicing the six dances. Ideally, every Odonii in the temple should be assembled and practicing in unison. But in practice, there's usually some stragglers. So you'll be out in the yard and everyone is following the same drumbeat, but you'll see one group dancing the spear, another dancing the musket, and then another who's already finished and running laps around the grounds just to kill time.

Our core duties are over at sundown, and we're free to do as we please. Dinner is served at the temple, so most of us will spend an hour or two in the hall, you know, socializing, having a little wine, unwinding. I like to go down to the ocean after dinner, when I can. I prefer the quiet.

Uh, so that's an average day for the vast majority of us. It varies throughout the year, of course. Things get busy when we're approaching festivals. Or during wartime. And I'm a senior Odonii and liaison to the Usoma, so-. My duties tend to be considerably more complex, year-round. Sometimes I miss those long afternoons just mindlessly pounding maize, haha.

---

Notes:

-Temples to Odomache are open to the public from dawn until noon, and closed throughout the rest of the day. The temple consists of a great shrine that is publicly accessible by all, inner walled grounds that are prohibited to the public outside of certain festivals (tame lions are kept here), private spaces only Odonii and temple staff can enter (the Odonii's quarters and bathrooms, a dining hall, library), and ritually private spaces that only Odonii can enter (an inner shrine reserved for internal cult practice that is forbidden knowledge for non-Odonii)

-Odonii-attendants are high ranking servants to the priesthood. They start out as child servants given to the order by their fathers who perform most of the basic labor (this is a very attractive position to poor families in particular, as the family is paid until the child comes of age, and the child themself can acquire a degree of security and potential for class mobility that is otherwise difficult to attain). Those who choose to remain with the order upon adulthood (they have no choice in the matter beforehand due to children being under full legal jurisdiction of their fathers) may eventually graduate into attendant positions. This is a well paid and esteemed job, with attendants managing most of the practical logistics of maintaining a temple and interfacing with the public.

Servants to Odonii are only women and eunuchs. Those considered male are forbidden from this role (which entails entering some ritually private spaces, and sometimes seeing them naked in the course of bathing/being armored, etc) - the Odonii's body is sacrosanct and an analogue to the power and the security of the Wardi nation and God Itself, and the male gaze is considered uniquely dangerous to a metaphysically vulnerable female body and thus to be fundamentally violating of this sacred state.

-Outside of certain festivals and rituals, Odonii only perform blessings for royalty, soldiers, and pregnant women. Odonii also bless soldiers' weapons and armor.

-Amenchalme is the basic material used in public rites for blessing and purification. The finished product is a paste that is daubed on the body to give blessings, and consecrates animals/humans for sacrifice. It is exclusively produced by Odonii, but used in a broad variety of contexts.

-'Nameless' in the context of 'nameless bastard daughter' means not having a family name - ie an orphan of unknown parentage, or not being claimed by one's father, and therefore not having access to and the protection of the family as the foundational social unit in Wardi society. Namelessness itself is stigmatized, and its implications invariably entail ostracization and lowered status. Faiza saying 'whore's nameless bastard daughter' is her conjuring up like, the lowest possible status Wardi citizen she can imagine.

-The six dances are the core weapons-dances used in rites and for combat training, centered around the key weapons techniques- spear, sword, handgun, musket, spear and shield, sword and shield. Bow dances are still practiced by most soldiers (given that firearms are limited enough in access to have not fully replaced them) but are no longer part of the Odonii's core retinue.

-Faiza privately ascribes to a niche quasi-atheist strain of Wardi philosophy that posits that God fully died during creation and can no longer directly affect the world, and thus does not believe that the majority of rites her Entire Life is built on performing have any intrinsic divinely sourced effects. She is very good at not letting any of this slip, but tends to frame the benefits of rites around their practical effects (ie- soldiers who believe they are protected by God fight more bravely).

Her emphasis on the importance of amenchalme as is partly rooted in sincere conviction that all* (*Imperial Wardi citizen) people should receive the practical benefits of the state's religion regardless of class and she finds the ubiquity of the substance to be an equalizer, and partly because she absolutely believes in bad luck, ghosts, and evil spirits, and amenchalme protects people from those.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your  wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it. 

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything. 

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes. 

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd. 

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway? 

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face. 

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies. 

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes. 

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake. 

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it. 

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same. 

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile. 

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow. 

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them. 

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes. 

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.” 

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him. 

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement. 

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present. 

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew? 

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?” 

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?” 

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again. 

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond. 

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too. 

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.” 

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious. 

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.” 

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.” 

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.” 

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?” 

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.” 

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face. 

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same.  he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.” 

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.” 

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.” 

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.” 

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?” 

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.” 

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off. 

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt. 

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most. 

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly. 

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech. 

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?” 

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again. 

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?” 

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire. 

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?” 

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.” 

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.” 

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

 he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later. 

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.” 

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged. 

[scoobydoodean]

A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday

~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending

Dean never says anything about his birthday.

Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.

He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).

Right. It all makes sense.

So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.

He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.

The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.

He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.

Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.

Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.

Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.

42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.

Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.

Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.

As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.

Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.

Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.

Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.

Just add milk and eggs.

Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.

When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.

"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.

Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.

Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop

"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.

"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."

Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.

Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"

"Uhh..."

"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."

"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."

It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."

Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."

Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.

Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"

"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"

"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.

"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."

Dean glowers.

Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."

Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."

"Uh...?"

"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."

Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."

Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"

"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.

Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."

Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.

"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"

Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."

Dean stares at him.

Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."

"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.

Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.

Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.

"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."

"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.

"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."

Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean gives him a look.

Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."

Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.

They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.

They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.

"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.

Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.

Dean: Just checking in.

Cas replies about 20 minutes later.

Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.

However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.

Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.

At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.

Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.

He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.

He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.

Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"

Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.

Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.

His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.

Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"

"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.

"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.

"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.

"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.

A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.

"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.

"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."

Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.

"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.

Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.

He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.

"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."

"You deserve it."

[wazzuppy]

A Very Tangled Halloween

(AKA what I think various Tangled characters would dress up as for Halloween 😋)

Rapunzel: The girl from The Ring. For one thing it matches the Decay Incantation, but I also just think that Rapunzel would prefer to dress scary over dressing cute. She gets to be cute every other day of the year! She wants to be SCARY for once, damnit!

Eugene: He would love any kind of cheesy matching costumes. But if he can't match with Rapunzel or Lance (which has a 50% chance of breaking his heart), he'd dress up as a sexier version of other, normal Halloween costume. Nothing too crazy or revealing, but he's definitely prioritizing prettiness over spookiness.

Pascal: There is no way Rapunzel wouldn't dress him up. I think she'd dress him as a tiny version of whatever she's going as. (Also, Eugene would be so salty over his wife matching with her pet frog instead of him.)

Maximus: NOPE. Nuh-uh! That horse is NOT dressing up— at least not without a fight. It'd take the entire castle to wrangle him into even just a festively decorated saddle, and then he'd pout for the whole night.

Cassandra: You would have to force her into dressing up. She's way too busy (and proud) to wear a costume, but if she absolutely HAS TO then it'd be something that she can easily DIY— like using some of the castle guard's uniforms to make herself into a musketeer. Just something easy but that doesn't look cheap.

Varian: He is definitely the type to come up with a LOT of costume ideas. Mad scientist is an obvious one and so is a vampire (since there's quite a bit of fanart I've seen of him as one), but I could also totally imagine him as dressing up as someone he knows. Maybe him and his dad dress up as each other one year. Oh, and he's of course dressed up as Flynn Rider more than a few times.

Lance: Like I mentioned before, Lance and Eugene are the KINGS of matching costumes. You know those two-person horse costumes that you see in cartoons? That's them. I think Lance is more willing to do an individual costume than Eugene would be, though. Lance would probably dress up as something traditionally Halloweeny— like a skeleton or pirate— and then add his own twist on it. Instead of just a skeleton, he's a cowboy skeleton. Instead of just a pirate, he's a pirate on vacation.

Red/Catalina: While she and Angry matching would be adorable, I actually don't think Red would want to do that. She also wouldn't want to be a werewolf, because that'd just be too easy. She wants to be able to stand out. I could definitely imagine her going as something that's both cute and spooky, like a ghost princess, and asking Rapunzel to help her with the costume.

Angry/Kiera: Any kind of animal and/or magical creature. She prefers the cool ones, like a dragon, but she can be convinced to dress up as something cuter if she thinks it'll get her more candy. Lance obviously helps her make the costume, and if cameras existed, he would be taking dozens of pictures of the girls and sending them to everyone he knows.