#but he still fucking haunted them in the afterlife right? and he wanted to go for sycamore and clivesdale too

[thewhizzyhead]

looking at the npmd tumblr posts I'm kinda glad that we seem to be all on the same page when it comes to npmd's portrayal of bullying and that putting a stop to it isn't as easy as simply having the victims stand up to them - examples being Max still beating the shit up out of Pete, Richie, and Ruth even when they make a stand in their own way. Standing up to them directly and telling them "i'm not a loser" or "you're just a bully" or something along those lines in order to take away their power is simply a disproven cliche because bullies don't care if their victims retaliate. They only care about the power they hold and when such power is taken away from them by force - so kudos to Starkid for having bullying portrayed as not just a regular schoolboy nuisance but as genuinely life-threatening shit that needs to be taken seriously because if it isn't nipped in the bud, once that bully gains more power, they will grow crazy with it.

#i dunno i just really like how max is a real fucking villain in this show #like he's funny as fuck but he is genuinely murderous and someone to look out for #and i know that he alMOST couldve turned around and be kinder to the nerds when he actually liked the prank they pulled #but he still fucking haunted them in the afterlife right? and he wanted to go for sycamore and clivesdale too #so yea bullying narratives isnt as simple as simply telling the bully 'no' #because who the fuck gives a shit about a no when you can deliver an uppercut #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #npmd spoilers #starkid #max jagerman

[artiststarme]

Swimming Ground

Warning: mentions of su!cide

Steve hated his pool. Not swimming or lounging near water but the pool in his backyard in particular. He hated the reminders it held. The pool in the Harrington backyard held too much power over him.

He remembers when he was in the eighth grade and his parents decided to get the pool. He remembers how happy they were to be one of the only families in Hawkins with a new in ground pool that Steve could practice for the swim team in. They never could have imagined that just two weeks later, they’d find Steve floating in it. His mom looked out of the kitchen window to find her beautiful boy fully clothed, face down in the water. They didn’t love the pool so much after that.

They didn’t love their son too much after that either. To his parents, Steve had tried to take their precious boy away from them and they could never truly forgive him for being so selfish. They started taking more business trips and longer vacations away from home to forget about the son that wanted to die.

And Steve was left at home with the constant reminder that he failed.

He used the pool to make friends and to throw rambunctious parties but he never stepped foot in it. The first time he did since the eighth grade was with Nancy when he pushed her in. That was the night his pool took Barb. After that night, the kids thought his hesitation around his pool was because of guilt over losing Nancy’s best friend which he went with because it was so much easier to explain.

He’d throw them pool parties and play lifeguard but he would not touch the water.

Some nights, Robin would swing by to the Harrington house just to find Steve sitting at the pool’s edge. Close but never touching the water. She’d lure him inside to complain about girls or any other topic that helped distract her from the uneasy feeling she got when she saw him sitting there.

After their final bout with the Upside Down, Loch Nora was destroyed. Steve’s house was barely standing and his backyard was a chasm. The pool that had haunted him for years was gone but the thoughts that gave the pool such power remained. Steve didn’t know why he deserved to live more than Eddie and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. As he thought about his fallen friend that could’ve been more, he yearned to feel the floating like he had in eighth grade. He wanted to feel his lungs burn for air and the fire in his chest when he finally breathed in.

But the pool was gone, he couldn’t do what he’d wanted to since he first tried and even though it was gone, the temptation remained. Instead of sinking into the chilly water, he slouched down next to the blazing chasm where his pool used to be. He felt the heat envelop his body and knew that it was the right decision. He was supposed to perish in the Upside Down as a martyr fighting for his friends. That didn’t work out though so now he had to pull the role of a coward and die a fiery, reasonless, self-imposed death alone.

He didn’t leave a note, didn’t think he needed to. His friends would care or they wouldn’t but nothing he said would make the situation better.

So, he closed his eyes and stepped into the void just as he’d done so long ago. There wasn’t peace or panic like there was the last time, just nothingness as he stepped into the crack in the earth.

Strangely, the afterlife wasn’t dark as he’d expected (but to be fair, he hadn’t thought about it much). Instead, it looked exactly like the Upside Down almost as if the chasm wasn’t a portal to hell but a gate to the alternate Hawkins.

When Steve sat up, still alive despite his efforts, it was face to face with Eddie. A bloody and scarred Eddie that looked a little pissed off but Eddie nonetheless.

“Well hello Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Goddammit, the swimming excuse wasn’t going to work this time.

#Eddie gives him something to live for and they get out of the Upside Down together #I’m having a rough time so now Steve is too #bon appetit #stranger things #steddie #ish #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #barb #fanfic

[anotherwritingblog12]

The minute before

Bruce took a calculated risk and this was the consequence. He had managed to get everybody out of the building before it inevitably collapsed under him. He would do it again in a second. Everyone was safe.

Everyone except him.

He was under an alarming amount of rubble, there was a fire somewhere and a burst pipe that kept screaming a few feet behind him. He was trapped under a fallen piece of wall, he could barely turn his head to see his surroundings.

Bruce was badly injured, he could tell because he couldn't quite feel anything. He could see the blood in his suit, in his gloves, he felt around his head and he was definitely bleeding. But he didn't exactly feel pain. Maybe he felt a tad lightheaded. He had pressed his distress signal on the way down, he would be fine.

That's when he saw Alfred.

Just standing there, next to Bruce, in a perfectly clean and pressed fitted suit. Looking at him.

Alfred had died 2 years prior, and his death still haunted the manor and everyone in it. Bruce wanted to think his death had brought the family together but it had only brought to light every problem they ever had tenfold.

If he was there, Bruce was definitely dying.

He wanted to talk to him, but he feared if Alfred answered back Bruce would be tempted to follow him all the way to the afterlife to be with him again.

Bruce knew this was a product of his imagination. Unless it wasn't. He wanted to tell Alfred everything he couldn't before. He wanted to apologize for everything Bruce had put him through, for his transgressions as Batman, as a father, as a son.

If he was dying why couldn't he feel it, goddamnit? Maybe he was already dead and Alfred was just here to get him to the other side.

He didn't want to die, he had so much to do still. This couldn't be the end-- The Batman beaten by a pile of rubble. No. Bruce tried to move but the wall simply wouldn't give and the more he struggled the more blood would pour out of him.

Bruce wouldn't be able to say goodbye. He had to tell Dick he didn't need to take up his mantle, none of them did. Bruce wanted to apologize to Damian for what he'd said after Alfred's death. Had he done it already? Probably, but one more time couldn't hurt.

Hurt. God he had hurt them all so much. He argued that they all hurt him back too, but he was the adult none of that mattered. They were all adults now, they would survive. He wanted to tell every one of his kids he was proud of them for everything, everything they had ever done had been a testament to their strength.

He felt tears running down his face. He looked at Alfred again and Alfred looked back with a questioning look in his face.

"My boy," Alfred said.

"I'm sorry--I'm sorry. I can't go." Bruce cried harder.

"I know," Alfred replied. Bruce stared at him wide eyed.

"I know," Alfred repeated. "but your body doesn't. Its holding out until you're rescued, and you won't feel anything until you're out there again."

Alfred moved closer to him. "There are instances in which a person will wait until they are safe to give into their injuries. Once the adrenaline rushes out of you, you will die, Master Bruce. You need to fight it."

Bruce shook his head. Alfred was right, of course he was.

"How?" Bruce asked.

"Feel. Feel how many things you still need to do here. Your kids need you, everyone needs you. You need them. You're getting out of here and you are going to live."

Bruce wanted everything to stop. He wanted everything to be over, the rubble gone, he wanted the fire to stop burning and the pipe behind him to run out of fucking water.

"I miss you so much." Bruce sobbed.

"I never left you." Alfred replied.

Bruce would live. He would see his kids again, he would love them and then they would fight. And Bruce would continue to put himself in dangerous situations that would get him killed, but he would be alive to do so. He hadn't even told Clark that he loved him, he couldn't die before seeing him again, he was going to wine and dine him so bad.

That's when he felt the ground above him shake. Then some of the rocks above him where moved and he could see a glimpse of light. Then more shuffling above him and that's where he saw Superman.

"Batman!" Clark said and dove straight into the building. He moved the wall from Bruce's chest, but Bruce still couldn't move.

"I'm getting you out of here okay?" That's when Clark noticed the bleeding in Bruce's head. "Just-- just hold on."

Clark grabbed him delicatley and with such gentleness, but the moment he started flying everything hit.

He was saved now, the adrenaline begins to dissipate, and everything comes back. His back hurt so much he started struggling to breathe, his right arm was definitely broken, and his head, his head was going to explode. His ears started ringing and his vision started to blur. He was drifting off.

"Bruce! Hey we're almost in the cave everyone is there we'll get you better."

Was that Alfred? Alfred's voice was so soothing, he could fall asleep to it again, just like he had done so many times in his childhood. Bruce had just seen him, hadn't he? Did Bruce even say hello? He would now. Bruce closed his eyes.

--

Bruce woke up freezing. He was in the cave, good. It must have been a rough patrol becuase he coulnd't remember falling asleep. He was laying in the medical cot plugged into a lot of a lot of machines.

He turned his head and found Clark sitting in a chair next to him, sleeping. He looked so uncomfortable, and he hadn't shaved. Bruce reached out to him and moved Clark's knee to wake him up.

"Christ, you look terrible. Please take a flight around orbit, you know Gotham doesn't get any sunlight."

Clark opened his eyes drowsily and then fully. He jumped when he saw Bruce.

"Bruce. Oh God. Let me tell the other's you're awake. How are you feeling?" Clark looked at Bruce with such softness and a hint of fear.

That's when everything came back to him. The building, the rubble, the fire, the pipe, Alfred.

Bruce was alive, he did it, he did it because of Alfred.

"How long was I out?" Bruce asked.

"Too long." Clark rubbed his temples, he was looking at him like Bruce had just handed him a million dollars.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"No, no, everything is okay now. You're okay and everything is fine. The kids will be here in no time, don't worry." Clark looked so beaten up. Bruce grabbed his hand.

"Thank you." Bruce said.

"Of course." Clark whispered.

They looked at each other in silence. Bruce was rubbing circles in Clark's hand.

"I love you." Bruce finally admitted.

"I love you too." Clark answered.

There was a shriek in the cave.

"I can't it took Bruce almost dying for you to confess your feelings to each other? I owe Jason so much money." Dick Grayson was standing in the cave along with the rest of his kids.

Everything was perfect.

-

2:24AM

#superbat #superbat fic

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi !! Could you do a fic where George and reader were best friends until they moved away at like age 9 & coincidentally move in right next to lockwood and co years later. Like a lighthearted reconnecting with old friends vibe :D thank you !! 👾

A/n: I don’t know if anyone else is experiencing this but every time I add the readmore thingy, like half of my fic is immediately erased for like no fucking reason. So plz bear with me with not adding a ‘readmore’ thingy on this long ass fic.

“Do you have to go?” George asked, feeling as though he was already loosing a vital part of himself and you hadn’t even physically left yet but to the little boy with the dark hair and glasses, clutching your hand tight in his own; you might as well already have.

“I don’t want to,” you admitted, grasping his hand as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded, “but mom and dad said it’s what’s best and that I’ll see you again soon one day but.” You turned your head to look at George. “What if I never see you again? Or worse, forget you! I don’t want to forget my best and only friend….it’s unfair.” Your lower lip wobbled at the end, causing your voice to waver as tears brim your eyes.

The aspect of never again being nose deep in books with George or helping his mother out in the kitchen whenever you went over to his house after school haunted you. It hurt knowing that from here on out you’d be forced to survive without George and vice versa. It felt wrong to leave George, it felt vile and it felt arbitrarily wrong like you and George were meant to stay together even well into old age and the afterlife.

“We’ll see each other again.” George said definitively, helping you wipe the tears from your eyes. “How can you be so sure?” You asked him, looking at him as though he held all the answers. “The reason why I’m so sure is because we’re the best of friends.” He says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a sloppily made bracelet of burgundy thread with beads that spelt out your name, accompanied by an array of colourful beads as to fill out the rest of the bracelet.

“And because we’re the best of friends, we’d always find our ways back to each other.” He then proceeds to place the bracelet onto your wrist where it hung slightly loose but not enough for it to slip off your wrist completely. “Georgie, it’s-“ “y/n! It’s time to go!” Your parents yelled from their car, waiting for you, causing you to jolt at their abruptness before looking back at George who’s eyes lost their glow once he realised that his time spent with you had came to an end.

You smiled softly at him as you brought him into a tight hug, “it’s okay Georgie,” you whispered, “we’ll find each other, remember.” You pulled away, still smiling but a little teary eyed. “This isn’t goodbye, this is simply a see you later.” Were the last words you said to him before you were setting off for the long road ahead.

Lucy was walking past George’s room when something caught her eye; a picture frame on his bedside desk consisting of two kids, one of them being George from the glasses and dark hair, his arm thrown over another kid who was mimicking his action by throwing their arm over him, smiling widely. She had so many questions concerning the other kid but before she could act upon her next move; George had appeared out of thin air, looking over her shoulder and saw what she was looking at.

“What’re you doing?” Lucy jolted in fright, seeing him hover over her shoulder “Jesus George, stop fucking doing that!” She hissed but he only shrugged, “I’m sorry Lucy, now tell me what we’re you doing standing in front of my room like a burglar with anxiety.” Lucy could only scoff at his comments before looking back at the picture frame that held her curiosity. “Who’s the other kid in the picture?” She asked and when she looked back at George, his eyes held a sadness in them, “you don’t have to say if it makes you uncomfort-“

“Y/n.” He said, “their name is y/n, my childhood friend. That photo,” he gestures to the picture, “was taken days before they had to leave with their parents elsewhere. Where’d they go? I don’t know,” George said softly as he past her to enter his room, sitting himself on the bed as he reached for the framed photo with a look of nostalgia, his finger tracing over your smile, “but we made a promise to find each other one day…and I’m still waiting…” neither of the pair spoke, feeling as it was an inappropriate time to do so. Until a knock at the door sounded.

“We’re you expecting someone?” George asked.

“No, you?” Lucy then asked.

“No.” George replied.

The pair then journeyed down the stairs together where Lockwood had already beaten them in answering the door and there you stood. “Hey, I just moved in next door and just wanted to say hi, so…hi.” You said, feeling a little awkward being in the presence of three people as you raised your hand to rub your arm out of habit which allowed George to get a good look at your bracelet.

It had the same burgundy thread, even if it was a little worn down from time, the same lettered beads of which spelt out your name and even the same array of coloured beads he used to fill out the rest of the bracelet. It was you. You had came back home.

George was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t hear himself saying your name until he caught how you, Lucy and Lockwood looked at him. You started intently at the dark haired, glasses wearing boy as though you were staring at him under a microscope. Looking at him caused an itch within your memory that you couldn’t quite scratch, he looked so familiar but the problem lied in why he looked familiar.

“I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve-“ “every time you came over to my house after school, you’d always insist on us watching Casper The Friendly Ghost because you always thought that my middle name being the same as the titular character’s name was cool.” George cuts you off and he saw the look of recognition in your eyes afterwards. There was only one person who knew that little tidbit about you and that was.

“Georgie?” You asked. “Is that you?” “Does one plus one equal two?.” He says, trying his hardest not to smile but it was near enough impossible when your face was practically splitting in two from the force of your smile. “Georgie!” You squealed, holding your arms out and George scoffed but moved past Lucy and Lockwood so you could bring him into your arms, locking his own arms at your waist.

“It’s so good to see you.” You spoke into his shoulder, “god I missed you so much.” George snorts, “clearly not enough if your going to end up forgetting about me.” He states playfully but his grip on you only tightened much like it did the day he was forced to say goodbye. “Oh don’t be like that Georgie.” You told him as you pulled away from him to look into his face, “your too much of a unique character to be forgotten.” George raised his brows at you, “is that your sensitised way of calling me a weirdo?” He asks.

“Never.” You replied, “it just means that only people of equal uniqueness get to embrace you in all of your entirety.” You shrugged.

“Please don’t ever try to sound smart again, it doesn’t suit you.” George groans which only made you laugh.

Lucy and Lockwood, who were still stood at the doorway watching on as the two of you caught up, shared a look. “Are we invisible or?” Lockwood asks. “Let’s leave them be,” Lucy said as she looked back at you and George, remembering how sad her friend looked when staring at the picture of you both, “they’ve got some catching up to do.”

#lockwood and co x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagine #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood imagines #Lockwood imagine #lockwood x reader #Lockwood x you #george karim imagine #george karim imagines #george karim x reader #george karim x you

[rubixpsyche]

What’re your headcanons for human!Vox?

Like: Name, specific nationalities, any preferences, what’s changed since he died, etc . Just !!! I love your headcanons so much I need to know more .

Asian!Vox hc

It's my lil baby ok it's my most precious hc to me. (Everything here is up to change because I have not had time to research the diaspora experience and era in which he lived in). Thanks so much for asking, I went overboard tbh this could be 3 posts by itself

Name: Without the best grasp and exposure to English names, someone cruelly suggested one as a joke when he arrived in America and he trusted them, only to find out too late to change it that it was bad, either because people could make fun of him for it, or because it was a name of a infamous figure of the time, and everytime someone made the same stupid joke about it for the rest of his career he got more and more frustrated. (I feel mean picking out an english name and saying it's a 'bad' or stupid one, so hey maybe I'll hold a vote or look up some history.) This constant fucking humiliation is what leads to him overdoing it with learning english, and why he named himself Vox in hell.

He had to live his life talked over, given a name he fucking hated. In death he would speak for himself. And for all these Sinners. This time He would be Their Voice. He'd even make them think it was their choice.

(I'll make up his traditional name later, excited to try)

Nationality: Hong Kong 🇭🇰 Hong Kong. Anyone who speaks Cantonese knows where I'm going with this HAHAHAHAAAAA. Oh I just want to make him swear so beautifully. He doesn't do it much at all in Hell, the internalized racism has him trying so hard to make people think he was white in life. Anytime he does speak canto he tries to pass it off as him having learnt the language for business. This works since he actually has learnt several more languages over the years because that fear of being misrepresented haunts him. With how technology has progressed, I think he would have learnt German, Japanese and Korean, so he could better ensnare newly deceased Sinners he knows worked in the big tech companies in life. Those NDAs don't extend here.

Sometimes he just stews because he knows he could insult someone so well, or at least in a way that will truly satisfy him, but he has to keep his trap shut and his language English. This is also why he gets so fucking flustered in Stayed Gone. He knows he could outperform Alastor EASILY if he wasn't slowed down translating himself. Also why he still uses old slang.

I can't control myself so, readmore time

Vark gets special rambling in cantonese priviledges. I think he is so (affectionately) mean to Vark. He can do that run-on insult thing for 15 minutes. Vark is just happy to be here. People think Vark is bad at listening to orders, secretly Vox has trained em to only listen to canto instructions. Anything in english just flies over his head.

Everything else: I keep just projecting people I know onto em. I think he had (and still does) a janky idea of what "Successful" people looked like, fashion-wise, and emulated it both when he was struggling to make it to now with all his success. Velvette is fucking dieing. That watch is tacky, she doesn't care how expensive it is, get rid of it. Oh my god noone wears chains like that anymore.

He pretends to like all that high-end cuisine and wines, but really he still loves proper savoury food and the cheap beers he had at home or at the places he gambled at (big gambler by the way. Not in a self-sabotaging way, but it was his only socialization outside of work, in life, where he could fucking relax and chat with all the other immigrants there) (they were milking him for all he's worth btw. My god). Everytime a proper chef lands in Hell he snaps them up in the hopes he can get really good food in his tower right at home.

Actually he's still a little bit superstitious, although sometimes he questions the point of that when they're in the Afterlife and have seen the 'answers' noone would ever get in life. It brings him some comfort though, and in some way makes him feel like he still remembers his life. He hates remembering his life but some part of it is so afraid of losing it and himself.

Preferences: To me he reads as someone that ENTIRELY misunderstood his attraction to men as just general admiration. He wanted to be those successful guys, he wanted their lives. Which was true but he was also a lil thirsty. I think he would have gotten a wife, because that was a sign of success, as would having successful/smart children. This is mostly dependant on how long he actually lived. If he died young, or if he was that dedicated to his career, he might not have courted anyone long enough to get married. They would not have been happy.

Even in death he still thought his attraction was just admiration, but he wasn't super resistant to the idea of allowing himself to 'start' getting into men when the general position of Hell changed. As in once sinners didn't give a shit and were openly all queer, he thought noone could give him shit for it, and acted as if he always knew, that he has sooo much experience. Faking it till he makes it. He just had really high standards, guys. Falls into Valentino's bed. Alright.

The 'point' of straight relationships, to him in life, was the nuclear family goal. But noone in hell can reproduce, so who cares!

I wanna nonbinary this fucker so bad but that's too much projection, perhaps, and honestly could be its own post since I would absolutely connect that to the Mechanical thing.

Oh I have/will have more next time, for now I wanna reply to this before it's been too long. Thanks again and ask me more anytime!!

#the cube clicks #vox #headcanons #hazbin hotel #teamfortresstwo #answered #long posts #asian vox hc

[thatonelesbianfander]

The Ghost and the Reaper Chapter 2

Fandom// Sanders Sides

TW// Panic Attack, Strong Emotions, Crying, Yelling, Screaming, Funeral, Nightmare, Fire, Death mention, Storms, Swearing, Weapon

Word count// 2161

Description// Janus is one of the many grim reapers whose job it is to reap the souls of the dead and help them ascend to the afterlife. After one assignment, the spirit they reaped, a 23-year-old nonbinary person named Remus, refused to ascend. Now, Janus is stuck with them following it around wherever they go.

Characters// Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders, Roman Sanders, C!Thomas Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Pairings// None

AUs// Found/chosen family Creativitwins & C!Thomas, human!sides, they/them Remus, it/they Janus, he/she Roman

Masterpost // Previous // Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus stood alone in their kitchen, drinking their cup of coffee while staring off into the distance. Remus appeared in front of them, looking around.

”Oh, you’re back,” Janus said, putting its coffee mug on the counter.

”Yeah…” Remus said, refusing to make eye contact with Janus.

”What do you have?” Janus asked, noticing the rose in Remus’s hand.

”A fucking nuclear missle. What does it look like, dumbass?” Remus said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” Janus yelled.

”Yes,” Remus said, looking off into the distance.

”Okay, well I have afternoon duty, today. I’m off duty for the morning,” Janus said, pouring more coffee into its mug.

”Hm…” Remus thought. Janus looked over to them.

”So, what do you want to do?” Janus asked.

”Well, there isn’t really anything to do… I was just thinking I would just go fuck around in one of those abandoned places,” Remus said, “You know, a good old classic haunt.”

”What place were you thinking about?” Janus asked, intrigued.

”Well, there’s an old church near the graveyard, but the old school next to that bakery might also be good,” Remus suggested.

”Eh… Those places get boring after a while…” Janus replied.

”Alright, then. You don’t need to join. I’ll just go by myself,” Remus said.

”Alright. Be back by noon,” Janus said, waving Remus off. Remus faded out of view, reappearing in front of the old church. They walked inside, immediately jumping off the ground and hanging upside down on the chandelier. The chandelier rocked back and forth, Remus swaying with it. They fell back down on the floor, walking up the aisle of pews to the front of the church. Visions flashed in their eye as they saw a casket being rolled up the aisle. People sat in the pews, all being dressed in black. Remus looked around, seeing their father and sibling in one of the front pews. Remus stumbled back, lifting the casket lid up to see themself in it. They backed up as the people in the pews stared directly at them. The people in the pews all stood up, walking over to Remus and surrounding them. The sounds of whispers erupted from everyone as they surrounded Remus. Remus couldn’t make out any of the words but they heard one word loud and clear. One word they were terrified of.

”Anti-christ,” the figure of Roman said, pointing at Remus. Remus started to panic. They pushed through the crowd, running to the doors of the church. They banged on the doors, desperately trying to get them open as they were surrounded again. Fire started to build up as they banged on the doors. They turned around, finding their father and sibling right behind them. They clung onto their father’s clothes, falling to their knees.

”PA, HELP ME, PLEASE! I’M NOT THE ANTICHRIST! I DON’T WANT TO BE! PLEASE!” Remus pleaded with their father, their father just standing there with a vacant expression. Remus sobbed as the flames engulfed them, scared and alone.

“Oi! Remus,” Janus said. Remus startled awake, finding themself back in the graveyard. They looked over to Janus.

”Oh, hey there, Jan,” Remus said, putting the rose they had in their hands down.

”Are you good? It’s 10:03, and you were still asleep when I got here,” Janus asked.

”I was?” Remus replied.

”Yeah…?” Janus said.

”Must have overslept by accident. Anyways, what are we doing, today?” Remus asked.

”Well, I already got through a bunch of my tasks before coming here. I just have 2 more spirits to reap, and I also have to have a meeting with my manager so that should be fun…” Janus replied.

”Ugh, do we really have to meet with that guy? He’s a bastard,” Remus said.

”I know you don’t like him, but I don’t really have a choice,” Janus said.

”Then, let’s get that out of the way first. Save the better thing for last,” Remus suggested.

”Alright, then. Also… I’m sorry about last night… I wasn’t thinking and I should have worded what I was saying better…” Janus said.

”Don’t sweat it, man. It’s fine. Come on, let’s go,” Remus said, fading out of sight. Janus followed suit, the two reappearing in an office-like room. A man sat at a desk. His face was darkened with only his mouth visible. He wore an outfit reminiscent of a stereotypical grim reaper with the hooded robe and everything.

”Oh, hello, Janus! And… you…” the manager said, Remus flipping him off.

”You wanted to meet with me, sir?” Janus asked.

”Yes, yes. Sit, I’ll make you something to drink. Tea or coffee?” the manager said, standing up.

”Just black coffee, please,” Janus said, talking a seat. Remus hovered in the corner, leaning back against the wall and grabbing a notepad and pencil from a nearby table.

”So… why did you call me here?” Janus asked.

”Oh, it’s nothing serious! You’re just a little bit behind on your quota for spirits this week and I was wondering what was going on,” the manager said, handing Janus a mug of coffee.

”Shit, I’m sorry, I thought I was ahead on quota this month…” Janus replied.

”It’s fine, it’s no big deal. I’ll just need you to pick up the pace a little. Maybe even take a few nights of work,” the manager said.

”How much am I behind by?” Janus asked.

”Just 10. It’s no big deal. You could probably get it done in a night if you take the whole night,” the manager replied.

”Okay, then I’ll do that,” Janus said, standing up as it finished their coffee, “Have a good day.”

”You too,” the manager said. Janus shook the manager’s hand, turning to Remus.

”Come on, let’s go,” Janus said. Remus ripped the page they had been drawing on out of the notepad, putting the notepad back down on the table. The two faded out of view together, Janus waving goodbye to the manager.

The two reappeared in a room together, Janus walking over to the two bodies that laid together on the ground. It took out its scythe, swiping at the bodies. The two spirits rose up, stumbling back a little before regaining their balance.

”Ugh, what happened…” the one spirit asked.

”You died,” Janus said, pulling up a screen and swiping through it.

”Fuck, we did?” the other spirit asked.

”Yup…” Janus said, pulling up a profile, “Your name is Virgil Blackheart, correct?”

”Yes,” Virgil responded. Janus printed out a little slip, handing it to Virgil.

”You do have one unfinished task before you can ascend, so I would get to it as quickly as possible. And you are Logan Croftberry, correct?” Janus said.

”Yes,” Logan replied. Janus printed out another slip, handing that one to Logan.

”You also have an unfinished task, so I’ll let you get to it. If you need any help, my name is on that slip. Just call it and I’ll be on my way to assist you when I can,” Janus said, putting the screen away.

”Okay…” Virgil said.

”Any questions?” Janus asked.

”Who’s that?” Logan asked, pointing towards Remus who floated behind Janus.

”That’s no one. Just ignore them,” Janus said, pushing Remus away.

”Rude! I have feelings too!” Remus said, dramatically falling back.

”So, who are you?” Logan asked.

”Remus Sanders-Kingstone! Nice to meet you!” Remus said, holding their hand out.

”Logan Croftberry, please to make your acquaintance as well!” Logan said, shaking Remus’s hand.

”Alright, we better get going now,” Janus said, pulling Remus away, “Any important information about afterlife living including rules and stuff can be found on that slip. If you ever need me for whatever reason, call me. Good luck with your ascending,” Janus said, fading out of view while waving. The two reappeared in Janus’s apartment, Remus floating over to the couch.

”Alright, I’m going to go catch up on my quota,” Janus said, grabbing a new scythe.

”Ooo! Can I come?” Remus asked.

”No. You are going to stay here and not get in my way, so I can do my job and not be distracted,” Janus replied.

”Aww, you’re no fun,” Remus responded.

”That doesn’t matter. I need this job,” Janus said.

”Whatever,” Remus said. Janus went into his room, putting his hat away and grabbing a cloak. He put the cloak on, pulling the hood up over his head. Remus looked to Janus, confused.

”What’s with the stereotypical reaper outfit?” Remus asked.

”The night time reapers have a strict uniform to follow. I need to put this on so they know I’m working,” Janus said.

”Alright, then. You go have fun without me,” Remus said, putting a hand to his head and falling back dramatically.

”Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be back in a few hours, don’t go anywhere,” Janus said, fading out of view. Remus looked around the apartment, checking to make sure Janus was gone before fading out of view as well.

Remus reappeared in a living room, finding it empty. They walked around a little, finding someone in the kitchen. They peaked in the kitchen to find their father cleaning the dishes. Music played over a little speaker, playing Remus’s favorite song. They sat on the kitchen counter, watching as Thomas cleaned the dishes.

”I love this song,” Remus said, kicking their feet against the cabinets below. Thomas continued to wash the dishes, oblivious to the fact that someone was there. Roman entered the room, his hair wet and messy from the shower. Thomas looked over to Roman, smiling. He walked over, hugging Roman. Roman hugged back.

”Hey, buddy. Ready for movie night?” Thomas asked, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder.

”Yeah, I guess…” Roman replied.

”Awesome! Just let me finish these last few dishes and I’ll be out,” Thomas said. Roman nodded, exiting the kitchen and going to the living room. Remus followed, sitting on an empty chair. Roman sat on the couch, turning on his phone and scrolling through photos. Thomas came out of the kitchen.

”I’ll be right back, I just need to put this towel away,” Thomas said. Roman nodded again, Thomas going upstairs and putting the towel into a laundry basket. Thomas put the laundry basket on top of the dryer, going back downstairs and sitting on the couch. He turned on the TV, going to Netflix and clicking through the movies.

”So, what do you want to watch, tonight?” Thomas asked.

”Mulan,” Roman replied. Thomas smiled, turning the movie on and putting the remote down on the table in front of him. Roman leaned his head on Thomas’s shoulder, curling up in a blanket. Thomas put his arms around Roman, holding him close as the movie played. Remus sat on the edge of their seat, enticed by the movie. Roman looked over towards the chair where Remus sat, tears coming to her eyes.

”That was their favorite chair for movie night…” Roman said. Thomas frowned, looking over to Roman. He wiped the tears from Roman’s eyes.

”Buddy…” Thomas said, “You know it’s not your fault.”

”It is though… If I hadn’t said all that horrible stuff to them…” Roman said, starting to cry. Thomas pulled Roman closer, comforting him as she cried. Remus perked up, looking over to the other two. Remus frowned, getting up and walking over to the two. Remus reached their hand out to Roman, about to touch her before remembering what Janus had said yesterday. They pulled their hand back sadly, walking back over to their chair and sitting back down. They watched the movie as Thomas and Roman sat on the couch together. Halfway through the movie, the lights in the house started to flicker as a storm started up. Thomas stood up, locking the door and closing the windows as Roman sat on the couch.

”Welp… So much for a calm night,” Thomas said, coming back to the couch. He grabbed a blanket that was on the arm of the couch, bundling up in the blanket and sitting back down next to Roman. He pulled Roman closer to him, Roman’s eyes darting around anxiously.

”I hate when it storms,” Roman said.

”I know, buddy. I know. It’s okay,” Thomas said. Roman leaned in closer to Thomas, closing his eyes as Thomas held him. Remus got up from their chair, looking at the two. They smiled softly.

”I love you two…” Remus said, to no reply. They faded from view as Roman and Thomas fell asleep on the couch. Remus reappeared in the apartment, laying down on the couch and falling asleep as well.

Masterpost // Previous // Next

#thatonelesbianfander #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #tss #sasi #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #c!thomas sanders #c!thomas #virgil sanders #logan sanders #the ghost and the reaper au #tw panic attack #tw strong emotions #tw funeral #tw nightmares #tw fire #tw death mention #tw swearing #tw weapons

[iatethepomegranate]

Matthew Mercer, Will, and Player/Character Needs in C3e34

Now that I've typed out the Will/Orym scene including Matt's narration, I have feelings. Namely, how Matt used this scene to satisfy player and character needs in a situation where there was potential for the two to conflict. I will also probably ramble about Will as a character in another post because he fascinates me more with every piece of info we get about him.

Obviously, spoilers for c3e34 are here.

We're at a stage in the game where no one's stories are really complete. Once the decision is made to resurrect a character and the roll succeeds, it then becomes Matt's job to weave a satisfactory scene for a player/character in a way that allows their story to continue, while respecting the way that character is feeling in the moment.

With Ashley/Fearne, Matt didn't have to give her too much. Fearne is a creature of whim and everyone she loves is alive, as far as we know. Matt did offer a confusing and even a little scary peek of an afterlife for her, which Fearne naturally rejected.

Liam/Orym needed more. Because clearly Liam wanted Orym's story to continue, but Orym died with a heavy sense of failure and defeat. And he was clearly hoping to see Will and Derrig again. He had very valid reasons to throw in the towel.

Orym knew that he needed to go back, but he was so torn between a task he was carrying out for the sake of his loved ones, and between getting to stay with them (Will and Derrig both) after having lost them under horrific, violent circumstances that still haunt him to this day.

So, what did Matt do? He gave Liam the tragic reunion scene, knowing he would eat it right up, but he didn't stop at Will telling Orym to go back.

He had Will choose for him.

In sparing Orym from that heartbreaking decision, Liam is able to continue this story. Would Orym have chosen to go back if he'd had to make the choice himself? Probably, especially if Will was still telling him to.

But Orym has been through a lot, and I imagine Liam and Matt discussed at length the balance between what Orym's narrative needed vs what Orym himself needed as a character. Orym needed to be pushed (i.e. lovingly tossed) by the very person whose death put him on this path to begin with.

As a result, we can already see Orym rallying himself, digging deep to give himself and the Hells fresh motivation and drive to keep pushing onward. He was quite assertive in the remainder of the episode, offering up huge solutions (let's go Kiki!) and even stepping in to threaten Treshi when their designated intimidator fell short.

Is it all sunshine and rainbows for Orym from here? Of course the fuck not. But this decision to have Will take charge in that scene and do what would have shattered Orym to do has not only allowed his story to continue, but to do so in a way that galvanises him.

I also foresee Orym potentially opening up to the rest of the Hells about Will in the not-too-distant future, especially since he's indicating feeling kinship with Imogen over the way she's feeling and acting about Laudna's (hopefully fixable) death.

#orym #orym of the air ashari #willorym #big moon little moon #critical role #cr3 #cr spoilers #c3e34 #i just found this decision really cool okay #huge rp trust fall moment #sorry this is long i had feelings #cr meta #meta #orym meta #to be clear Orym was v obviously leaning towards this decision but I think it helped that will took control of it

[lexosaurus]

Ectoberweek 25: Forgotten Bones

Prompt: 1. Forest 2. He thinks about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

Characters: Johnny 13, Danny Phantom WC: 1145

———

“I don’t know if I should tell them,” Phantom said, his head hung low and his elbows resting on his knees. It was easy to forget how small the kid was when he trampled around his haunt like some tyrannical overlord, squashing any trespassers before they could say ‘hello.’

Johnny 13 blew the cigarette smoke from his throat and watched it fizzle into the crisp air.

“I feel bad because there’s supposed to be no more secrets, you know? They said they accepted me, so I don’t know why…”

“I never told anyone,” Johnny said. 

He might have felt amusement toward Phantom’s owlish reaction if he was in better humor. But then, Johnny was never one to talk about his past.

Most ghosts weren’t.

“Really?” Phantom asked.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

He mulled it over. “It was nobody’s business.”

It was unsurprising to see the kid’s unconvinced expression. Ghost intuition and all. 

Because even Phantom knew that unresolved deaths don’t just resolve after a few years of being a ghost. That even if the memories get altered during ghost-formation, the pain never goes away.

The moment never disappears.

It was just his luck he’d get trapped in this situation. Dragged to the forest by a group of faceless, fuzzy men—he couldn’t remember what they looked like—and surrounded with guns drawn and flashlights pointed in his eyes, casting long shadows behind him.

“Please,” Johnny begged. “You have the wrong guys.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the leader said. Beside him, his thug pressed his gun into Kitty’s temple.

“The money or the girl. Your choice.”

“Nobody’s business,” Johnny reiterated, tapping the fresh ash from his cigarette.

The Boy Scout beside him was too out of it to make an annoying remark about littering or whatever the hell dumb thing he’d usually say.

“But Kitty knows, right?”

“She was there, moron.”

“Right, but…” Phantom turned away, sheepish. “Not everyone remembers.”

“Well, you’d have to ask her then. Not everyone was insane enough to—what did you do again?”

If anything, Phantom looked even smaller as he spoke, “...I buried it in the woods.”

“Right, exactly. Most of us don’t bury our own fucking corpses in the woods.”

“And yet, you and I are both in the same place.”

Johnny looked out at the dark sky, noting the speckles of stars that danced around each other. And it occurred to him that, well shit, maybe they were in the same place. Maybe they were both stuck leading an afterlife based off of forgotten skin, forgotten bones.

Forgotten bodies.

But no, they weren’t the same. “Even if I wanted to change it now, I couldn’t. There’s nobody to tell.”

Kitty’s terrified eyes met his, and Johnny nearly collapsed on the spot. The flashlights suddenly seemed too bright, too blinding.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t us.”

“Really? You weren’t at Tony’s last Tuesday?”

Johnny took a step back, nearly tripping over a root. “No! No, that’s not—”

“You’re calling Tony a liar?”

“—No, please!”

“You could always tell the police. Lead them to your…” 

Now that Johnny did chuckle at. “And what do you think would come out of that, kid? Surrender my bones over to the police—and for what, exactly? Justice? Revenge? Kid, I died forty years ago. Do you know what happens to bodies that stay in the dirt for forty years?”

“Well, I was going to say that it might give you some closure, but—”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Johnny said, stamping his cigarette out on the cement roof. “Maybe you should be less worried about me, a guy who’s living out his afterlife doing the thing he loves with the girl of his dreams, and more focused on yourself, who’s clearly so upset you had to come to me for advice.”

Phantom blushed green, and the brief spark of smug fire vanished from his eyes. “I didn’t come to you, you were just already here.”

“And? You’re still talking to me.”

Phantom grumbled but otherwise didn’t argue.

And thank goodness for that too, because Johnny hadn’t come to Earth for a therapy session. He didn’t want to relive that night. He didn’t want to think about what happened. He didn’t want to remember the feel of the brush scraping his legs, the dirt that stained his skin, the guns pressed against their backs as they were led further into the forest, closer and closer to The End.

The sound of Kitty’s voice. The tears on her face. The trembling in her voice.

“Please, sir, that’s not what he meant! We really don’t have anything, I promise!” Kitty cried. “Let us go, just let us go.”

The man pulled out his gun and pointed it at Johnny. Although Johnny couldn’t see—couldn’t remember—the man’s face, he would never forget the pure terror that races through his veins as the barrel pointed at his forehead. He would never forget his shaking limbs finally collapsing onto the dirt. He would never forget praying for one more day with Kitty so they could finally take that road trip they’d always talked about.

“You were there at Tony’s, and on your way out, you nicked from his cocaine supply. You either pay up the money you stole, or I’ll shoot you and your pretty lady myself.”

Johnny’s vision swam. “I—I don’t…”

The fuzzy form of the man stepped closer, casting his shadow over Johnny. “What’s that, princess?”

“I…don’t have it.”

“You should tell them, though,” Johnny said, breaking the silence between them.

Phantom gave him a quizzical look, and Johnny felt like a bug under a microscope. Damn, that kid could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Still, something compelled him to keep talking. So he turned his attention back to the sky and said in a detached voice, “You should tell them while you can. Because if you don’t do it now, you never will. You’ll keep putting it off, and putting it off until one day you’ll look around you and realize that there’s nobody left to tell. And you’ll spend the rest of your afterlife wondering if you should have told someone during any of those days you asked yourself and decided it wasn’t the right moment, it wasn’t the right day, that you would do it tomorrow. Because you only have tomorrow until you don’t. And you never know when that day will come, but it will, and it will come faster than you think.”

Phantom didn’t respond, but Johnny didn’t need him to. After all, they were both in the same place, and they weren’t. Johnny had no more tomorrows left, but Phantom still did.

He still had the chance to do what Johnny never could.

Johnny 13 thought about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

He heard Kitty let out a fresh sob in front of him.

“Well, that’s tough luck, kid.”

There was a crack.

Kitty screamed.

And then nothing.

#ectoberweek2022 #kidnapping cw #origin story #day 25 #forgotten bones #phicc #my writing

[nariism]

I am not okay after that S** fic HOLY SHIT I literally curled up into a ball while reading it and trying not to bawl

"He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does. He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point. "You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now."

(massive extract yes) THIS PART WAS SO AOBAOUDBOASBDASLODNLSAKDN THAT'S SO ADORABLE?? I'M SCREAMING "YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL" HITS DIFFERENT AFTER THAT PARAGRAPH OF HIM DESCRIBING READER

HIM MISSING HIS DATE FOR THEM TOO OH MY FUCKING GOD

It's even cuter since reader thought they look scary bc everyone left ╥﹏╥

"Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?" You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays. He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles."

THE WHOLE BIRTHDAY SCENE AND HIM NOTICING LONGER HAIR MADE ME WANNA SOB (in a good way) I have a massive soft spot for birthday scenes (especially when it's for characters without one or if they've never celebrated properly)

"There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here."

I also wanted to sob here (not very happily this time) S** YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE LEFT SOMETHING- The eggs and rice tho :(( the fact that he cared was obvious (THE BIRTHDAY CAKE TOO AOINAIOEDN) but it would've been so painful to be in reader's position + the guilt would've killed me if I were him

""Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod. He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you. Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light."

THE SPARKLER SCENE WAS MY FAVOURITE !! Reader wanting them despite not being able to read the poster was adorable 😭 The repetition of "as if 7 years of distance never existed between you" really accentuates their bond and I absolutely love it

My heart is still aching after reading (ಥ﹏ಥ) (not a complaint tho). Something about the afterlife hurts (like reader never being able to know what they look like with their own eyes, or not being able to understand who they were when they were alive)

This is definitely my favourite S** fic (and favourite out of all your fics) it's adorable and beauteous, yet so gut wrenching at the same time, 11/10, well done Soph !! <3

soutaaaaaa 😭😭😭 whenever i see you in my inbox going absolutely ham about one of my fics i prepare the tissues and get curled up into my blanket in bed bc i just know i'm going to be sobbing happy tears by the end. you're such a sweetheart and your kind words are genuinely one of the reasons i haven't felt burnt out writing in the last while 🥹🥹💗💗💗💗

i'm such a sucker for afterlife/haunting fics and i kinda wanted to try this style of writing in tiny drabbles and it just fit. i'm ALSO a sucker for the bday trope heudhwudhdh😭💗💗 its just so adorable and i feel like i always want my loved ones to feel special on their birthday and it just makes me so happy imagining sae to be the same way even though he's a hardass 🫶🫶

UGHGGHHHGHG IM SCREENSHOTTING THIS ALL AND SAVING IT FOREVER YOU'RE SO SWEET AND YOU TAKE SO MUCH OF YOUR OWN TIME TO REALLY GO THROUGH THE FINER DETAILS AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SO APPRECIATED AND SEEN AND YUHFHFUFHRIBFEKFBICNF. COME HERE SOUTA IM GONNA. IM GONNA GIVE YOU ALL THE BAKED GOODS. ALL THE CANDY. IM GONNA HUG YOU.

🫶🫶🫶🫶

#✧.* chatting 💌 #{souta!} #aka the best #aka the only moot ever #aka the sweetest person on earth

[queers-gambit]

I know you mentioned that the reader would want Eddie to move on but what if the reader haunted Eddie instead 👀. Like in a different au where the reader wanted revenge even tho we know she wouldn’t she’d want Eddie to be happy it’d be more of a “what if”

love the way your mind works, poppet!

cause look, there's a very real possibly of a haunting. you died for a really shitty fucking reason, and you're allowed to be angry in the afterlife.

you choose to first visit his dreams and taunt him with good memories before at the end of each, you drop dead with blood seeping from your mouth, ears, and nose.

he's forced to hold your convulsing body as you beg him for help but the only thing he can register is the growing puddle of blood beneath you - as if gutted like livestock.

and Eddie has to live through that each night.

similar to how you had difficulty sleeping, so does Eddie but it's because he's terrified of the happy memory he'll be reminded of - before it morphs into a nightmare.

and he can't wake up from them. he's has to suffer through them. because you're not merciful in the way you want him to feel your angry; you want his guilt to suffocate him, like flowers did to you.

you're beyond angry watching his relationship with Chrissy progress, so you start appearing as an apparition wherever they are. fancy dinner date? he'll look up at the waiter to order and gasp with a jump because your bloody face is right over the man's shoulder.

they're laying in bed together? he's sweating bullets because he swears he can see you in the shadowy corner of his bedroom.

maybe on Tuesdays, he's at your grave like usual and you'll actually show yourself; rounding around the headstone to sit in front of him. you're just glaring, and he's a panting mess - sobbing and begging you to please forgive him.

"you're the reason i'm dead, what forgiveness do i owe you?" your voice reminds him, but it sounds nothing like he remembers. he imagines this is your voice now that thorns have shredded your throat; it's thick and wet, rattling like a pair of chains.

he starts going to church because he thinks it's a way to alleviate guilt but oh look! you're sitting right there in the middle of the empty church, still in your bloody prom dress, staring forward, before slowly turning your head and glaring right at Eddie.

he's never run from something so fast in his life.

you're everywhere he looks.

sometimes, he's at the grocery store and gets lost in thought staring at the different breads because once upon a time, you tried to convince him that whole wheat was better - but he was a Wonder Bread kinda guy. as he's contemplating getting the whole wheat, a slim, blood-stained, ghoulish hand extends and he'll watch the bony fingers grab the Wonder Bread before dropping it at his feet.

there's blood smeared on the plastic wrap and when he turns, there you are; and he'll blink, and you're gone, but the bread is still at his feet.

he feels like he's losing it - and good, because he is.

you'll appear in the abandoned field his trailer used to reside in. he likes to drive down there to clear his head, but that's no longer an option because he'll see you - hair and dress blowing in the wind despite the air being uncannily still.

you'll turn to him as he slowly approaches, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. he's already crying when he meets your eyes, seeing your own filled with tears that are streaming down your almost translucent cheeks.

"you did this," your voice rattles. "you did this to me - how could you? i thought you were my best friend, i thought you were supposed to protect me."

"i tried! baby, please, i'm sorry - i-i made a mistake and i'm so fucking sorry - please! believe me! i never wanted this!"

"no... you forgot me... and now, i'll make sure you never forget me again."

[dysiver]

Oh Dys, I'm still in mourning. This is misery!! What is left in this world if my king didn't even get to go out with a bang. What the absolute shit? Gojo shouldn't go out like this man, this is disrespectful. GG, let me buy the rights to jjk so I can revive my bb boi and he can pull some shit with the fraudkuna/megumi mess and then he can rest with his bf by his own choice. If my king goes out, it has to be because he got bored of living in the world where he's already god and he wants to be romantic and shit and decides to die on his bf's anniversary death date, not some shit like this. Let him be the arrogant little asshole that I love even in death, not some fraudkuna bootlicking humbling shit like "he wasn't even going all out on me" And that picture haunts me. Doing him dirty like this man? I don't want to see my man cut in half GG. Now everything is ruined and I'm in shambles and I'm so angsty as fuck that I don't know how to bring myself to watch or read this week's issues 😣 As you can tell, I'm both a simp and I'm heated so I am sorry for the rant dys. I have already literally shaken my friend so badly in anger, betrayal, sadness, disbelief that she passed out on me and now I have noone else to rant to 😔 Thing is, she is even worse off then me. She is in denial and still hasn't processed Gojo got the Toji-outfit curse treatment and got cut in half. Man, You right. This week ain't it for Gojo si- fans. Even the anime? Idk how many episodes I have to wait until I see a glimpse of him again after the sealie-do has been done 😭 I'm in pain :'<

honestly, that's still what upsets me the most LOL the way they killed him. I was ready for Gojo to die since the beginning of the fight, all gojo fans knew this, but we were having fun and booing sukuna the whole time. It is just so damn disrespectful LOL to get a fucking off-screen dead, it is legit so fucking annoying.

Like for example, Rengoku is still my favorite Demon Slayer character, by far, no one has come close to him even tho some other characters are better written, and that's because of how he died, what he did, and how it went down and it looked even better once it was animated, it make everything feel so fucking whole and made me like him even more. The way he died, mattered a lot, it make his death sad, it make people sad.

I'm not even sad that Gojo is dead, I'm fucking pissed off LMAO! I'm pissed off because we got some afterlife speech with "sukuna wasn't even really trying." bullshit while sukuna was crawling around and crying for help the whole time, like ???? you expect me to believe that gege??? cuz that's not what the fuck you wrote LOL so quit trying to make me suck that dick cuz I'm not swallowing that bullshit.

I know a lot of people are saying Gojo isn't really dead, and there are lot of theories that have evidence backing them up but I'm still never going to get over how gege wrote an off fucking screen dead for one of his most hyped characters all cuz he doesn't know how to fucking write the fucker.

Do you know what other writers do? They cripple the fuckers to keep them from being so OP. All gege had to do was cripple Gojo (which technically is part of the theories going around) and if he DOES do that, I'm still gonna be annoyed that he wrote that shit off screen even if Gojo is alive.

Nothing will fucking make any Gojo fan get over the fact that this shit was done off-screen. It is so fucking cheap.

#jjk #jjk spoilers #gojo

[emeraldbabygirl]

I’ve been thinking or at least trying not to think about moonbin all night and I don’t have any words. I’m still in shock it doesn’t feel real. People die everyday in my country and nowadays everyone is dying and it just sucks. It sucks hearing about it and it sucks even more for the families that are affected. I just keep thinking about sua. Something really hits inside me like that was her older brother her brother and she was his little sister and I don’t know a thing about their relationship as siblings but losing a family member is never easy. It just sucks and people are like “thoughts and prayers” or “sending love” like thoughts and prays to who? Sending love to who you can’t “send love” to people in a sentence like that’s just what people say and I guess if it makes them feel better than fine but it doesn’t do anything. Just like with the constant shootings here in my country and with the war in Ukraine people are dying and there’s been people who just “oh thoughts and prayers” and they forget about it.

Idk where this is going I want to rant I’m upset and I’m shocked I don’t want to believe Moonbin is gone it’s not fair. He was young and he should’ve had his entire life in front of him and it was taken away. His parents lost their son and sua poor sua lost her brother. It’s not fair that so many good people that deserve to live out their life die early when there’s horrible people in the world that can do whatever they want and they live to be 100 or whatever and good people whether they’re famous or not die everyday whether it’s suicide or they get shot or whatever takes their life it’s not fair.

And what about Moonbin? No one knows what happened and I don’t want to know, I didn’t want to know when Sulli passed and I found out I don’t want to know cause I’m tired of hearing about people dying it’s just not fair it sucks but I can’t imagine whatever thoughts Moonbin was feeling before he passed and he was alone. What did Moonbin ever do to deserve his life getting cut short? It’s just not fair and everyone’s like “sending my condolences” and “rest in peace” but who are you sending your condolences to? You gonna write a letter to the family of whoever dies? “Sorry your kid is dead” “sorry you lost your grandma” “sorry your kid got shot” saying sorry and all this stuff doesn’t do anything, it doesn’t make the families and people affected feel better and it doesn’t bring the family member or friend back. And everyone just assumes the dead go to heaven but what if they don’t want to what if they died a horrible death and want to come back as a ghost and haunt everyone who did them dirty. I know this is gonna sound bad but just once I’d like an idol to come back as a ghost just because. Why do we always assume they moved on to the afterlife? Are we just gonna assume Moonbin just went to heaven immediately? What about everything he ever left unfinished, what about everything he ever wanted to do? It’s not like he was some old man with declining health right he was a healthy young guy who had so much going for him. He had a family and friends both in and out of the industry and a whole lot of fans why would he be content with leaving everyone and everything behind to “go to heaven” if that’s what people want to believe. If he was a ghost he could watch over Sua and still see his parents and family, if my family member died I’d want them to be a ghost I don’t care if it sounds selfish I wouldn’t want to lose them and that’s it. Sua is never gonna see her brother again, his parents will never see their son again. His parents outlived him, in what world is it fair that the parents outlive their children how is that fair how is any of this fair? The world is cruel and unfair and it fucking sucks.

There’s been so many people that have died already this year and it just sucks. It’s not fair I’m mad. I’m not mad at the people for dying I’m mad that their lives are being taken away for no reason and people believe “oh well it was their time” that’s bullshit. How was it Moonbin’s time? He was in his 20’s that’s only two decades of being alive which is not a lot compared to some who is in their 90’s. How and why does this keep happening it’s not fair I hate this world everything sucks. Sua lost her brother and she’s never gonna get over it. There’s always going to be an emptiness inside her and even if the pain lessens it’s just not going away you never heal from losing someone. My dog’s been dead for probably 5 years now and it still hurts the pain does not go away you never heal from these things how can you just be completely okay again after someone you love is no longer a part of your life and that you will never see them again, never talk to them again nothing because they aren’t around, they’re gone. It sucks, that’s what it is, it’s sad and heartbreaking and unfair and it’s straight up sucks.

I didn’t want to say anything at all, seeing all the posts on twt and things on YouTube and just in general hearing about it I don’t want to hear it and I don’t want to see it cause it’s just a reminder that Moonbin is gone and he’s not coming back and I didn’t want to string together sentences to blab about whatever if on my mind so I can say the exact same stuff everyone else is saying when it won’t make me feel better and it won’t make anyone else feel better. I don’t want to talk about it cause there’s nothing to say. It’s just not fair and seeing all the posts about Moonbin just reminds me of the other idols that are gone and that just brings back memories I don’t want it makes me miss them all even more and I wasn’t a huge fan of Astro or spectrum or even Kara but I was a fan of fx and Shinee and that doesn’t even matter it still hurts hearing that someone is dead and someone that was a good person is gone and it still affects you whether you knew them or not cause it’s scary how fast someone can be taken away and it’s always so hard to believe and the shock of it and even years later I still can’t believe jonghyun is gone, years later I still struggle with my dog not being around it’s so hard to wrap your head around the death of someone you loved and cared about or knew. I just felt the need to get anything off my chest and no it doesn’t make me feel better I’m just even more mad about it. Sometimes I just wish a meteor would fly into the earth and everyone would die and then we wouldn’t be sad and we wouldn’t have to live without our brother or son or mum or dog because no one would be alive.

#tw: death #tw: sui mention #tw: shooting #rant

[twinkleimagines]

*Lets go camping*

For yours and Drew’s 2 year anniversary, he takes you on a week vacation of nothing but Camping in a national forest with a huge waterfall. It was hard for you to enjoy it at first because of the heat and bugs and just outside in general, but Drew knew how to quickly change your mind on the trip, especially when the sun was setting .

* this is extra extra long with EXTRA smut. Fair warning. 18 AND OLDER.

“ ughhhh” *smack*-

“ ughhhh” *smack*-

Drew chuckled as he watched you sit in your foldable chair by the fire he had going, smacking your arm as another mosquito landed on you. “ God I hate this shit” you mumbled under your breath as you went swinging at another bug on your thigh.

“ c’mon baby it’s only our first day , give it some time it’ll warm up to ya” he stated as he snapped a twig over his leg, placing the two pieces in his fire wood pile.

“ yeah well you could’ve picked like an RV or something “ you stated halfway joking. He shook his head walking over towards you.

“ that completely defeats the purpose of camping princess “ he replied before leaning down pecking your lips.

“ mmm you’re lucky you’re so hot” you moaned out looking at his shirtless body glistening in the sunlight.

“ cmon put your tennis shoes on baby, I want to show you something but it’s gonna be a walk” he stated as he filled his book bag up with water bottles.

“ you’re just trying to kill me arent you” you scoffed as you slid your tennis shoes on before zipping the tent back up. You were semi familiar with North Carolina from being with Drew for two years but Drew always surprised you with different locations he had managed to scope out throughout his teenage and early college years. You were a good 2 miles deep in the woods where Drew decided was a good spot for camping . You didn’t like it because you were so far away from his truck and the road itself, but he swore he had camped there before and knew the area like the back of his hand.

“ we’ll if we’re on the news in two weeks for a bear attack, I hope you know I WILL haunt you in the afterlife” you said walking over to him as he patiently waited for you, propped up against a tree.

“ oh baby I got stuff for cases like that, but I’ve never seen a bear before out here and I’ve been out here more than I can count “ he stated , plopping one of his baseball caps on your head.

“ hm my own personal Tarzan” you joked running your hand down his toned chest. “ so sexy”

***

“ you hear that?” Drew beamed excitedly while standing on a huge fallen tree. You sighed heavily , leaning over placing your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath.

“ yeah I can hear my own lungs collapsing” you exclaimed leaning up against the tree he was standing on. He chuckled at how dramatic you were before shaking his head.

“ no princess the water” he stated turning his head to the right of him.

“ ooohhh finally” you beamed climbing up the tree , walking down towards where Drew stood.

“ c’mon princess you’ll love it” he exclaimed grabbing your hand, helping you down the tree. Within a few more minutes the water was extremely loud, and you were for sure it was going to be a waterfall that you would be coming up to.

“ there it is” Drew beamed excitedly, reaching his arm out. You gasped at the sight. It was Huge and the view itself was definitely worth the walk it took to get there.

“ come on “ Drew said tugging on your hand pulling you towards the water. You both stood on the edge, standing on big flat rocks that lined the edge of the river . “ let’s swim” Drew said before kicking his shoes off.

“ my bathing suit is at the tent” you said frowning.

“ no one will be anywhere near here just wear your underwear.” He said as he pulled his black shorts down, his tight gray briefs outlining his figure.

“ the thing is” you started as you pulled your Jean shorts down, wiggling your bottom out, your pink cheekers prominently making your bottom really stand out. You smirked as you watched Drew’s face as you pulled your padded tank top over your head, completely flashing Drew as you had no bra on. “ I don’t have a bra “

“ whewww” Drew replied, his eyes staring at your perky nipples. You grinned seductively as you walked backwards into the water.

“ you coming Daddy?” You purred out, running your hands over the water as you continued to walk backwards. Drew went to respond when all of a sudden he heard a squeal come from your lips as you completely sank under water.

“ oh my god it drops off!” You screamed after you popped back out of water swimming your way back to where you could reach. Drew’s face was red from laughing so hard before he walked into the water towards you.

“ come here beautiful “ he said pulling you towards him by your waist. Your breasts were pressed tightly up against his chest as you wrapped your legs around his waste , your arms going around his shoulders.

“ I know I complained a lot today, but it’s really beautiful out here and I’m really enjoying our time together” you stated, the splashes from the waterfall spraying you and Drew slightly.

“ mm me to too baby” he beamed. You giggled as you felt him starting to grow up under you, pressing against your core.

“ oh Drew” you chuckled out, “ we’ve never had sex in the water before” you whispered to him before leaning down for a kiss. Drew’s large hands squeezed your bottom as you nibbled on his bottom lip, feeling his cock jump against you.

“ you so fuckinf sexy y/n” he groaned, lifting your hips up against his shaft, making you moan out to the friction. “ you just don’t know what you do to me.”

“ yeah? Wanna show me baby?” you moaned out rubbing your nose against his. Drew quickly pulled your panties to the side, pulling himself out of his boxers before sliding himself into you at a quick pace. You gasped out loudly, your mouth opening wide as Drew stretched you out. Despite being in the water, Drews huge member had you moaning loudly as you were grinding your hips up and down his cock, his hands gripping your ass to help hold you up.

“ your pussy feels so good on me princess” Drew groaned out, his breath shaky as you both moved at a fast pace. You threw your head back moaning loudly , tugging on the back of his hair as his plump lips landed on your neck, his hands gripping so tight against your hips as he aggressively moved them up and down his body, surely to leave bruises by morning. You looked down, watching his huge biceps flex with each movement, his shoulders tensing each time he lifted you.

“ oh fuck baby” he groaned out, his hips bucking foward as he pulled you down , going deep in you.

“ you’re gonna make me cum Drew” you cried out, squeezing tightly against his body as you felt the tingling feeling in the bottom of of your stomach , needing to release on Drew.

“ cum on daddy’s dick princess” Drew huffed out, his jaw opened wide breathing heavily as he watched you unfold over him.

“ oh god!” You screamed out as you felt your clit pulsing, your walls clenching around Drew. Just the sight itself sent him over. You bit your bottom lip as you heard him moan a low ‘ fuck’ in your ear as he road out his climax.

Once Drew’s movements stopped, his arms slid up to around your back , holding you tightly against him while he placed sloppy kids along your collar bone and neck, eventually making their way to your lips.

“That was nice” you beamed, grinning as he still held you up.

“ it was “ he said pecking your lips before lowering you back down, your feet landing on the mossy rocks below .

“ I’m kind of hungry now “ you chuckled, floating on your back.

“ okay we’ll swim for a few and then go back okay? “ Drew said while fixing himself back into his briefs.

“ mhm” you said closing your eyes, moving your hands gently in the water as you floated around theswimming hole on your back .

“ do you bring all of your girlfriends here?” You joked. You jumped as you felt water splash on your face . “ Drew! “ you yelled out as you lifted your head out of the water looking at him.

“ I’ve only had like 2 before you and I never brought them here “ he stated before rolling his eyes. He hated when you would say stuff like that even though he knew you meant it as a joke.

“ I wouldn’t have cared if you did baby” you said swimming over to him.

“ that so ?” He questioned smirking at you. You grinned before jumping out of the water, leaping onto him causing you both to fall over and land under water.

For the next hour it had become a full blown wrestle match between you and Drew. Most of the time it was you getting tossed in the water but you did manage to get him a few times.

You both got dressed quietly , just enjoying the peaceful sight of nature.

“ you ready princess?” Drew asked as you slipped on your shoe, standing up and brushing your bottom off.

“ yup!” You stated, walking over towards him.

*******

“ that’s so nasty” you replied as you watched Drew eat a burnt marshmallow.

“ it’s so good” he muffled out, sucking some of the marshmallow off his thumb. You raised an eyebrow at him before placing your golden brown marshmallow in your mouth, a string of it falling down your chin.

“ let me get it” Drew suggested before taking his finger, wiping the string of sticky mess off your chin. You bit your bottom lip as you watched him stick his finger in his mouth licking it off, the same way he did back at home when he would lick your juices off his finger after fingering you.

“ stop” you said shaking your head looking over at the fire.

“ what’s the matter baby?” Drew said , his deep voice making you shiver. Drew smirked as he watched you close your eyes . He knew exactly what you were thinking about, and his actions were intentional too.

“ that make you think of something?” He said softly , leaning towards you, The lake water smell lingering off of him. You grinned biting your lip, feeling those oh-so familiar tingles in the pit of your stomach. You looked over at him slightly, your eyes glistening Under your lashes from the fire. You both stared intensely at each other for a second before you looked back at the fire, Drew’s cocky smirk still plastered over his face.

“ if you wanted me to take you into the tent and fuck you , all you had to do was ask” he said, causing you to choke on the marshmallow you had just swallowed, your eyes widen with shock. He laughed slightly at your reaction before standing up, his prominent bulge in line with your eyes.

“ c’mon princess” he spoke, reaching his hand out for yours. Your teeth found their way to your bottom lip once again as you let him pull you up from your chair , excitement rushing through you.

It was dark in the tent, orange lights shining through from the fire. “ take em off princess” he demandedt , tugging on your biker shorts . You laid your bottom on his pillow as you lifted your hips, sliding down your shorts and panties in front of him teasingly, watching him stare profoundly at your now heated core. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the friction before Drew’s large hands spread them back open.

“ relax” he said softly, before leaning down, placing warm soft kisses on your inner thigh. You sighed heavily, closing your eyes as you felt his lips continue to trail down your thigh until they were placed on your clit, sucking slightly .

The only noises resonating through the tent was the sound of crickets, the fire popping, and your moans as you felt Drew’s tongue running up and down your slit, his thumb rubbing circles against you.

“ you taste so good princess” he spoke out against you, his hot breath blowing against you. You bucked your hips up, needing more. Drew smirked before inserting his middle and ring finger, curving them inwards as he pressed them in and out of you at a fast pace.

“Drew” you moaned out, leaning your head back against the pillows in pure bliss .

“ what princess” he responded looking up at you, his fingers still moving at the same pace. “ tell me what you want”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him with your legs wide open.

“ I want you to fuck me Drew” you replied, breathing heavily. Drew immediately hovered himself over you, his lips pressing against yours at a fast and rough pace, his tongue moving against yours. You moaned out against his lips as you felt one of his hands massage around your nipple, cupping them in his large hands. Shortly after he lifted his hips up some to push down his basketball shorts before pumping himself a few times , pressing the tip against your clit. You gasped at the feeling, grinding your hips up needing more.

Drew didn’t hesitate to satisfy you by pushing himself in you, letting out a deep groan as he felt your tight walls around him. He quickly lifted your thigh over his arms, pushing your knees close to your head as he quickened his pace, the sound of slapping skin echoing through the woods.

“ oh fuck Drew” you cried out in pure bliss. Drew pounded in you fast and hard, exactly how you liked it, you watched as his hair moved back and forth against his forehead as he looked down, watching his self move in and out of you.

“ so tight baby” he groaned out. You reached up placing both your hands on the back of his neck, bringing him down to kiss you, His long thick cock stretching you to unfathomable measures.

“ oh god yes baby” you moaned out, feeling yourself getting close. You reached down placing your hands on his lower back , digging your nails in causing him to hiss. “ don’t stop baby I’m close” you said, almost yelling out. Drew leaned up, propping your legs together , placing your feet over his shoulders.

“ fuck princess” he groaned out as he started rocking his hips back and forth at the same previous fast pace again, causing you to throb around him.

“ I’m cumming Drew baby “ you yelled out, leaning your head back. Just the sight of you with your head laid back against his pillows and your back arched, your hands holding your bouncing tits made him come undone, hitting his climax as well. Drew thrusts became rough and irregular before they slowed down eventually coming to a stop.

“ holy fuck” he said out of breath before laying down next to you. You laughed slightly as you felt your clit pulsing from your climax before rolling over laying your head against his chest .

“ you always fuck me so good” you said looking up at him as he brushed his sweaty hair back.

“ oh yeah? “ he responded before kissing your forehead. It didn’t take long before the both of you fell asleep to the sound of the night.

****

It was the last night before you and Drew were going to pack up and go back home . Your whole week had been filled with nothing but laughter, adventures and a lot of sex.

It was late at night, a light rain shower falling over you both. drew was rolled over fast asleep from your hiking trip you had today, while you held the flashlight over one of your books reading it when you heard rustling against the leaves beside your tent. You sat for a second , looking up from your book waiting to hear something. After a few seconds of silence except for rain drops dropping from the tree leaves, you went back to reading your book. It wasn’t long afterwards until you heard it again, this time it was closer and sounded like it was walking towards you. You froze, clicking your flash light off, your heart beginning to race. You started tapping on Drew’s back as you continued to hear moving , fear running through you.

“ hmm?” Drew groaned out but you quickly leaned over him shushing him, placing your hand over his mouth. Drew leaned over trying to look at you but it was pitch black since the rain shower had put your fire out.

“ something out here” you whispered softly. Drew sat up, feeling your body trembling against him. He sat and listened for a second, waiting to hear something.

“ it was probably a raccoon or something” he reassured, only seconds later to be proven wrong as you both heard a growling noise. Your small figure couldn’t scoot any closer to Him than youalready were but your fear made you want to crawl in Drew and hide.

“ fuck” Drew mumbled under his breath , realizing his accusations were wrong. Drew grabbed the flash light from you turning it back on before he reached into his book bag, grabbing the gun his father gave to him for the trip. You knew he had brought it, it was for absolute emergencies- but it really freaked you out that he felt the need to use it at this point.

“ Drew don’t” you pleaded as he leaned up , reaching for the zipper to the door.

“ princess I need to see what it is” he replied looking back at you. You shook your head frantically tugging on his arm.

“ what if it’s a bear?” You replied.

“ we’ll I’d at least want to be prepared and not be stuck in the tent” he stated. You really didn’t want him to go out there but you knew Drew was stubborn to an extent and would probably go anyways.

“ Drew, it’s not safe okay. We’ll just stay awake until whatever it is goes away “ he sat for a second, contemplating. “ please I’m begging you Drew” he sighed before scooting back , wrapping you up in the blanket.

“ fine princess” he said . “ go back to sleep I’ll stay up” . You laid down next to him, while he rubbed his hand over your thigh , quickly putting you to sleep.

***

You woke up to the sound of bird chirping, and the sun shining through the side of the tent . You stretched slightly before leaning over , to see Drew asleep with the flashlight still turned on. You grinned before leaning down and giving him a kiss on the lips.

“Drew wake up” you said pushing slightly on his shoulders .

“ hmm?” He groggily replied , looking over at you.

“ we’ve gotta start loading stuff up in the car “ you relied. It didn’t take him long to get up , helping you grab a few things before getting up out of the tent.

“ oh wow” you exclaimed, noticing the massive bear tracks along side your tent and the fire place. Drew stared at the paw prints for a second before looking at you grinning.

“ Drew you realize you were going to be battling a full from bear if you would’ve went out there last night?” You replied in shock.

“ and you saved me from being that stupid so thank you” he said kissing your lips before going back to the tent, rolling up the sleeping bags.

It was quiet for the next hour as you and him both packed stuff up and walked back for a good mile to his truck, loading things up.

“ so” he said as you strapped yourself in.

“ so “ you responded looking up at him.

“ besides the bear fear last night, did you enjoy your trip” you grinned at him nodding.

“ I really really enjoyed it baby” you said leaning over to kiss him. “ and I enjoyed the sex” you laughed out.

“ oh yeah?” He responded raising an eyebrow. You grinned before sitting back in your chair.

“ want to have one last hoorah before we leave the woods?” He said, leaning towards you.

“ oh Drew” you responded before unbuckling yourself, leaning towards him.

********

As usual, feedback greatly appreciated ❤️

#drew starkey #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx fiction #smut #drew starkey dirty imagine #drew starkey smut #Rafe Cameron dirty imagine #obx smut #obx dirty imagine #obx smut fan fiction

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Ouija Board // Tate Langdon

request: none

prompts: none

warnings: use of a ouija board, murder, crying, scaring people

a/n: i just used random names for the friends, so sorry if that’s your name :)

“Come on y/n, don’t chicken out on us now!” Liz said, dragging you towards the house.

“It’ll be fun! I promise,” Dylan said, grabbing a large rock to break the doorknob.

You were stood in front of the infamous Murder House. And stupidly, you let your friends talk you into coming here and using a ouija board. You never really believed in ghosts or anything like that, but you were still scared nonetheless.

“There are easier ways to get in you know,” Liz said, rolling her eyes as Dylan smashed the rock against the doorknob, knocking it to the floor.

“Yeah but this is more fun.”

“Should we really be doing this? We could get in trouble for breaking in. I don’t think I could survive jail.”

“Oh my god y/n, we’ll be fine. And Dylan knows what he’s doing. Besides, don’t you wanna talk to ghosts?”

“Nope, not really.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“Ok, I got the door open!”

The two of you looked towards the door where Dylan was. The door was now open, and he had already walked inside. You felt your stomach drop, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. But Liz had other plans. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you inside.

With a sigh, you gave up on fighting and figured you might as well try to have fun. When you vented the house, an overwhelming smell of mold filled your senses. It was disgusting. There was sheets over the furniture, and leftover belongings scattered everywhere.

“That’s weird, there isn’t any dust here,” Dylan said as he swiped his finger along the mantle.

“Maybe there’s a maid ghost who has to spend eternity cleaning. That sounds like an awful afterlife,” Liz replied, laughing softly.

“Can we just get this over with already? I’m getting bad vibes from this place,” you said, feeling as if someone’s eyes were trained on you.

“That’s kinda the point. This is supposedly the most haunted building in the world. So many people have been brutally murdered. I would give anything to live here.”

“Dylan, you are really fucked up,” Liz said while laughing.

You rolled your eyes at your best friends, and followed them deeper into the house, until you arrived in front of a door.

“Here it is, the basement. I’ve read online, that most of the ghosts like to stay down there.”

“Let’s go!” Liz squealed, pushing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

Dylan followed her, leaving you alone at the top of the stairs. You sighed and started to walk down the steps. The. you heard a noise from behind you. You quickly turned around to see that the door was shut.

You brushed it off, thinking you must’ve bumped it, and continued down the stairs to find Dylan and Liz setting the ouija board up. You sat down beside them and tried to calm yourself, knowing it would all be over soon.

“Ok, place your fingers on the cup, and then we can talk to the ghosts.”

You and Liz did what Dylan said, placing your fingers on top of the glass placed in the middle of the bored.

“Is there anyone there?” Dylan asked.

Nothing happened for a second, but then the cup started to move. It dragged itself over to the ‘yes’ and then stopped.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, starting to feel fear come over you.

“What’s your name?” Liz asked the ghost.

The cup moved again, and began to spell out a name.

H-A-Y-D-E-N

“Y/n, ask them something!” Liz said smiling excitedly.

“Is there anything you want to tell us?” you asked, not really sure that you wanted an answer.

R-U-N

The lights in the basement flickered off leaving you guys in the darkness.

“I’m pretty sure that’s our cue to leave,” you said, beginning to stand up.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Liz said.

The three of you got up and ran towards the straits, trying to get out of the basement. Liz and Dylan made it out, but the door slammed in front of you before you could follow.

You pulled on the door knob but it wouldn’t budge. You started to pound on the door, screaming for Liz and Dylan, but they were too far away to here you.

“They can’t hear you. They already left,” a voice behind you said.

You turned around and stared into the darkness.

“Who are you?” you asked, feeling your voice quiver.

“Wow, you forgot me already? Ouch. I’m Hayden, remember? I told you to run, but I guess you didn’t wanna listen.”

You didn’t get the chance to say anything, before you felt yourself being shoved down the stairs. You tumbled down them, before landing on the concrete floor of the basement.

You carefully tried to pull yourself up, but you were immediately pushed back down again. The lights turned on and you screamed at what you saw before you. A monster like creature hovered above you, and the next thing you saw was black.

~

You slowly opened your eyes and sat up, feeling your conscious come back to you. You looked around, panicking, trying to remember where you were. Then it all came back to you. The basement. Murder House. Liz and Dylan. They left you.

You wanted to be angry, but you didn’t have the time. Right now, you just had to get out of here. You wanted to go home and be safe in your room. You took off running, heading up the stairs and out of the basement.

You ran toward the front door, pushing it open and heading towards the street. But then, you were back in the house. You ran out again, only to end up back inside once more. You tried over, and over to leave, but you couldn’t. You kept ending up back inside the house.

You gave up. You let your weight fall against a wall behind you, and slid down it, curling into a. ball sobbing. We’re you going crazy? What was happening to you? Why couldn’t you leave? Why can’t you remember anything after entering the basement?

Then you felt a presence beside you. A teenage boy, with wavy blond hair and dark brown eyes. He was beautiful. You might’ve been feeling butterflies, if not for the overwhelming sense of panic that currently filled you.

“Hey, I’m Tate,” he said smiling softly.

“Y/n,” you replied hesitantly.

“So, I bet you’re pretty confused right now.”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, I saw you running around, trying to leave.”

“Why can’t I?”

He fell silent for a moment, and locked away.

“Uhm, you’re dead.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately stood up and backed away from him.

“What? I’m not dead! My friends and I came here to talk to ghosts and now they’re gone and I can’t leave. But I’m not dead! That’s crazy!”

“Y/n, I saw you die. I moved your body,” he paused for a second before continuing,” Do you wanna see it?”

“Wait so let me get this straight. You just watched me get murdered and did nothing about it, you moved my body, and now you wanna show it to me? You’re crazy! None of this makes sense! I’m not dead! I can’t be dead! I think I would remember dying!”

“You can’t. No one can. I don’t remember my own death. I’ve only heard what people told me.”

“Oh really? You’re dead too? Fine, then tell me? How did you die?”

He went silent once more.

“I don’t wanna tell you.”

“See, I knew it! You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, it’s just-, if I tell you, you’re going to be scared of me.”

You laughed once more, not believing a word that he was saying.

“I doubt that. If you really are dead, just tell me!”

“Fine! I was shot by the cops.”

Then it hit you. Shot by the cops. You remembered hearing about that when Dylan went on one of his rants about the house. Wait, Tate as in Tate Langdon? The guy who shot up your high school in the 90s?

“Do you believe me know?” he asked softly.

“Oh my god. You were that guy who shot up my high school like thirty years ago right? Wait, so you are telling the truth. But I, I can’t be dead. There’s so much I still wanted to do. I’ve never even fallen in love, I’ll never have a future. I’ll never get to do anything with my life.”

You started to sob again, realization washing over you. He wasn’t lying. You were dead. You were really dead. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, and you looked up to find Tate hugging you.

Slowly you wrapped your arms around him, desperately searching for comfort. But that said comfort was soon gone when someone else started to speak.

“Aw, am I interrupting something?”

That voice. You’ve heard it before. Part of it came back to you. It was her. She pushed you down the stairs. You pulled away from Tate and glared at the girl.

“You! You killed me!” you yelled at her.

“No, no, no. I didn’t kill you. I just helped that creature down there do it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“It was getting boring. I wanted someone new around here.”

“Go away Hayden,” Tate said, glaring at her.

“Ugh fine,” she said before disappearing.

“Well, I guess I’ll show you around?”

a few months later

It’s been a few months since you’ve died, and you’ve already adjusted to your new life. Things weren’t so bad. You were kinda friends with Violet, and you and Tate have been dating for a while.

Being dead didn’t really bother you anymore. You’ve started to see the bright side of it. No more getting sick. You didn’t have to take your finals. And you never had to see your so called “friends” who left you here to die.

At least that’s what you thought. You and Tate were sitting together in the basement when the door opened. You didn’t think much of it, until you heard a familiar voice.

“How do you even know she’s here?”

You gasped. It was Liz. And Dylan was walking right behind her. They were back. You were so angry at them for leaving you. They left you behind to die.

The two of them sat down next to you and Tate, setting up their ouija board. You looked at Tate and smirked. You were going to have fun with this.

“Is anyone there?” Dylan asked.

You walked over to them and pushed the cup to yes.

“Who are you?” Liz said, seeming a little more nervous than she was the last time she was here.

You moved the glass to spell out your name, laughing when you saw how scared the looked.

“Y/n, we’re so sorry! We thought you were behind us! And when we finally got outside, the door wouldn’t open,” Dylan said.

You moved the cup once more.

Y-O-U-L-E-F-T-M-E

“Y/n we’re sorry! No one believed us when we went to get help. Your parents thought you ran away. We tried! We really did!” Liz pleaded.

Y-O-U-D-I-D-N-T-E-V-E-N-C-O-M-E-B-A-C-K

“We were too scared. We’re so sorry. Y/n, please.”

You and Tate laughed at their pleas. You weren’t going to forgive them. You couldn’t. Not after what they did to you.

“Go mess with the lights!” you asked Tate.

He nodded and ran over to the light switch, flicking it on and off.

“Dylan, maybe we should get out of here!”

L-E-A-V-I-N-G-S-O-S-O-O-N-?

“No we’re not! Liz, come on we have to talk to her.”

“I don’t know Dylan, they seem angry.”

You decided to let them hear you. You kept yourself hidden, but let your voice be heard.

“Angry? Why would I be angry? It’s not like the only people I’ve ever trusted forced me to come when I said I didn’t want to and them left me to die. Oh wait? That did happen.”

When you finished speaking, Tate left the lights off. The door opened at the top of the stairs, and Dylan and Liz ran. They left the board and left the basement, heading for the open front door. Before they could get out, Tate slammed it shut. They both screamed.

“Aw, you’re leaving already?” you asked, before laughing.

Then you let them see you. You appeared in front of the door, and you made your wounds visible too.

They gasped when they saw you. Covered in scratches and dripping blood. Clothes torn to shreds. Bruises littering you.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Liz said stepping closer to you.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m sorry,” Dylan said to you.

You didn’t say anything you only glared at them. Then Tate appeared beside you.

“You two should leave before you’re not able to anymore.”

Then you and Tate disappeared and opened the door, allowing them to run out, before slamming it shut once more.

As soon as they were gone, you both burst out laughing. Sure you’ve scared people who’ve tried to buy the house before, but this was the best reaction you’ve ever gotten. They were terrified.

“So do you finally feel like you got your revenge?” Tate asked, smiling brightly at you.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” you said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you.”

~

Taglist: @ahsxual @darlingkitt @1800-fuckbitchesgetmoney @horrorgirlx @jamespotterslover

#american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story murder house #american horror story x reader #american horror story oneshot #ahsfx #ahs murder house #murder house #tate langdon oneshot #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon #evan peters #evan peters oneshot #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #imagine #imagines #oneshot #x reader #ahs imagine #ahs oneshot #ahs x reader #murder house imagine #murder house x reader #murder house oneshot #ouija board #ahs murder house imagine #ahs murder house x reader #ahs murder house oneshot

[galacticgraffiti]

ok so i love the idea of domestic boba but i also think that he’d be unable to sustain that kind of lifestyle? if that makes sense. like maybe something from his past comes up or hes just scared of commitment so he leaves. can i request an angst fic/hcs/drabbles (your choice) based on this?

oh sweet angst, how I love to hate you. This is a drabble because I don't think my poor heart could take a full length fic. I just want my darling to be happy. (Still, please don't feel bad about requesting it, anon! I am having fun writing this I promise) This has been beta'd by the wonderful @baba-fett - you are the best, thank you so much for suffering with me ♥ Warnings: angsty as FUCK, Boba leaves his pregnant wife (3rd person narrative), self doubt, Jango was not a great dad sometimes (sue me), plans of violence towards Din Djarin

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I really thought I could do it.

The words keep echoing in Boba's mind as he packs his things. I thought I could do it. I thought it would work. I thought I'd eliminated all threats. I thought I had power. I thought I was the one in charge. I thought I could be happy.

He stuffs another blaster into the duffle bag and turns around to take one last look at her. I thought I could give you everything.

Turns out he can't. He can't give her anything at all, just pain and sorrow and an empty bed to wake up to with no explanation. She sleeps so peacefully,a hand resting on her belly where their child grows, the heir of... well. The heir of nothing. Yet. And so Boba has to go, he has to, the memory of his father haunts him and it will never leave him alone until he has done what he must. It is time now, if he does not leave now, he never will and he will have failed his father's legacy.

Boba sees his father in his own eyes, he hears Jango talk whenever he speaks. Boba wears his armour and honours his memory, but it is not enough, it is never enough, never. When Boba looks into the mirror, it is Jango's accusing eyes staring back at him.

"Do better, Bob'ika. Don't give up. You can do it, you have to do it. How will you survive if you don't? Don't be weak, son. Show me you got it in you, show me you are a worthy heir to my legacy. Show me I can trust you to restore honour to our name, to our creed, our race. If you don't, who will? You must do better. Nar dralsh'ya, Bob'ika."

Boba shakes his head as if he could shake the memories with simple movement. He puts on his helmet- not his father's anymore, that was lost so long ago in the wreckage of the ship he rigged to kill his father's murderer. The sacrifice was a necessary one, or so he had thought at the time. It would have been worth it if only Windu had died. He had not. Boba had gotten a new helmet, an exact replica of his father's, but it had never felt the same. He can feel his father call from the afterlife even now, as he does every time he puts it on, "I'm disappointed in you, son. You have sacrificed my legacy for nothing."

Boba still has the rest of the original armour, of course - the cuirass, the vambraces, even the holsters and blasters. He cleans them all meticulously after every mission, he can not help it. That is how he was raised. Haar besbe'trayce be'verd kaysh ijaat - the weapons of a warrior are his honour.

And so he carries the weapons, he wears the armour, his father's name still engraved in the code, and he tries to forget that he has failed to do the only thing Jango ever made him promise to do. Cuy Mand'alor.

When Boba leaves the palace behind, his heart is heavy. I thought I was doing the right thing, buir. I thought this would make me happy. It did make me happy. I was content right there in the palace with her, ruling over our small corner of the world.

But good things end. Boba used to know that, but he made himself forget it, forget it for the girl, and to spare a friend's life. The Mand'alor. There is no scenario in which Boba fulfils his duty and the Mand'alor lives. Boba will win the throne of Manda'yaim, for his father and now for his unborn child. He will do what has to be done to secure a future, to finally, after all these years, do what he promised Jango to do. It must happen so the child can grow up in peace. Boba can not live with the thought of leaving the little one with the responsibility he himself has carried all his life; he will be a father his child can be proud of.

He has been pretending for too long that this is the life for him, he has gone soft with age and contentment. Now he must go before it is too late. Cuy Mand'alor - ra ash'amu kebbu'an.

Boba grips his sword tighter. It has never seen the light of day, not since the day Jango left for the arena of Geonosis without it. Would he have lived if he had taken it? Boba will never find out; he won't make the same mistake. Be better, Bob'ika. Try harder, Bob'ika. You have to do it, Bob'ika. Who else will?

Boba slips the sword into its sheath and boards his ship. The coordinates of Mandalore are so familiar to him, even though he has never been. The armour creaks with the weight of decades spent waiting for this moment as he settles into the pilot's chair.

Ulyc, Djarin. Ni olaro'an. Tion'ad hukaat'kama?

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Mando'a translations

Nar dralsh'ya - Try harder. Haar besbe'trayce be'verd kaysh ijaat - The weapons of a warrior are his honour. Cuy Mand'alor - Be(come) ruler of Mandalore Manda'yaim - the planet Mandalore Cuy Mand'alor- ra ash'amu kebbu'an - Be ruler of Mandalore, or die trying. Ulyc, Djarin. Ni olaro'an. Tion'ad hukaat'kama? - Careful, Djarin. I am coming. Who is watching your back?

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Damning you all to suffer with me (please mind the warnings!) Signup Form for the Taglist

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#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett angst #i might be sobbing #jfc why do i do this to myself #angst #galas requests #nonnie request

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

#suptober21 #no vacancy #gotta love some cramped car kissing #scheming sam strikes again #destiel fanfic