#logically yeah i know i mean something to them but my fucking brain worms tell me otherwise

[grimmthorne]

how to ask if you are actually important enough to set aside time for or if you're just like the guy that's always there whether or not they're okay with it, without the soul crushing dilemma of actually having to ask that in any way because all you want is to be told that without prompting.

#tbis is abt s lot of different people recently im just so fucking tired #like am i important enough for a discord call. am i important enough for a hang out. to go get sonic together or smth #am i important enough to be told so or do i have to beg for it like a kicked puppy every day #i just want closure. i want transparency. i want everybody in my life to tell me im worth something to them #im tired of feeling like this all the time. with every person i know. nobody is an exception #i just genuinely believe that i am not important to anybody in my life and that i am replaceable. #even my closest friends and my partner i get this way with. and it fucking sucks. #logically yeah i know i mean something to them but my fucking brain worms tell me otherwise #i want to be held rn. i just want to be held and told its going to get easier for me to live #and that things will change. actually fucking change. #anyways. embarrassing LOL

[rose-lord-of-simps]

5 Times Mammon Interupted Levy. 1 Time She Didn’t.

Levy x reader! GN reader! Fem Levi! Hi! Uh- NSFW. Also cursing is included! I wanted to write something funny though and this popped in my brain! Enjoy!

Note: normally my stuff doesn’t have many NSFW themes and typically I prefer to keep it more romantic and fluffy but not this time. However this is not smut and is a comedy piece. Enjoy!

Dialogue is colored this time around! Levy Mammon Asmo italics is the person on the phone.

1. When Levy told Mammon to shut up.

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

“So close!”

“Almost- almost there!”

“Keep going!”

“Come on, come on!”

Mammon heard Levy through the walls. That’s how loud she was. Mammon didn’t like to be a cock block or anything, especially not to Levy who- wait when was the last time she got laid? Wait... did she ever-? No they’ve been alive for centuries she’s had to! Wait never mind back to the problem at hand.

Mammon normally didn’t care if Levy was loud or not. She usually had her headphones to block out the noise. However, a certain sister was using them without permission and broke them. Stupid Satan, Mammon definetly didn’t steal your headphones.

Without her headphones she was left unprotected to Levy’s loud gaming nights until she got a knew pair. As much as Mammon loves her sister, the noise is getting annoying.

So here Mammon was, bathing into Levy’s room to embarrass her for being so loud then-

“FUCK YEAH EAT SHIT LOSERS EAT MY DUST YOU TWELVE YEAR OLDS!”

“LEVY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?”

“SHUT UP IM PLAYING MINECRAFT! Mammon? GET OUT OF MY ROOM! GO! LEAVE!”

“OKAY OKAY BYE!”

Of course the only logical thing when you find your sister in the middle of a game is to leave as she throws various empty soda cans at you.

2. When Levy was on a phone call.

Mammon didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Again. Honest!

But when she hears her shut in sister say the words “I love you” and then another VOICE respond “I love you too” she’s gotta know what’s going on.

“I miss you so much darling, I can’t until I can see you again.”

“I miss you too my star, so much.”

Levy missed someone? Since when!?

“Remember last summer when all we did was go on picnics and have tea? You always found the perfect spot for us to sit.”

“Under the willow trees. Anything for you my star.”

When did Levy leave her room- Wait last summer!? Does Lucy know?

“And next time we see eachother I promise there will be absolutely no interruptions what so ev-“

Mammon just couldn’t take not knowing any longer. She had to know who-

Oh.

Oh she should have expected this.

“MAMMON GET OUT IM ON A PHONE CALL WITH RURI~CHAN!”

It was a game. It was a texting game. Of course it was.

3. When there was almost a first K word.

It was an average day.

Well I mean, they sisters’ new average.

It’s been a few months since the start of the exchange program and you finally managed to worm your way into Levy’s circle of trust.

You two were just in her bedroom binging a new sports anime called “that time sports all changed my life and I had a giant crush on half my team but the one who I ended up loving was my rival the whole time.” Or something.

It was nice. The anime had you two clinging to eachother in excitement.

The emotions each character displayed had the both of you tearing up at points.

Levy was so distracted, it wasn’t u til after the season finale she realized just how close you two were.

Oh boy.

Here we go.

Levy’s brain has been fried, once again, by how cute you are.

She started to move but when you held your grip on her she couldn’t bare to move away from you.

She looked you in your eyes that she always thought were just the perfect color. Not too light or too dark but always the eyes she adores.

She didn’t notice herself lean in. She didn’t notice pulling you closer.

Her hands were cold against your skin, they always were, they always left a chill on you.

One that made you lean into her more and somehow managed to light your soul aflame with want for her.

Levy’s face was closer to you than she’d ever had the courage to keep it before.

And then a pounding on the door.

“MC are you in there! I need your help with something!”

And there the mood went.

Levy realized how close she was to you and backed away immediately, leaving you truly cold.

4. When Levy was having a conversation with Asmo.

“Asmo! This time I have a power point presentation about why you should-... what is going on here?”

Mammon had walked in on a blushing Levy and an elated Asmo.

“Am I... inturupting something?”

“Yes!”

“Not at all!”

“Asmoooo! No we can’t tell her we absolutely can not.”

“But Levy Mammon knows how to do this too and honestly with the me there is no way you could go wrong but a little extra help isn’t a bad thing. Mammon is good at this too!”

“Good at what?”

“Nothing.”

“Sex.”

“ASMO!”

“Oh no Asmo’s right I can help what’s up?”

“No it’s nothing go away you stupid older sister!”

“Levy and MC are getting kinda serious so Levy wanted to talk about how to be more confident initiating intimacy so she came to her dear expert little sister!”

“Awww Levy I’m hurt you didn’t come to me for advice first!”

“SHUT UP I HATE YOU BOTH!

5. When Levy was kinda in the middle of something here.

Levy doesn’t know how she managed this.

She doesn’t even think it’s real.

Here was this gorgeous human kissing her of all demons when there are plenty of others who are a much better choice. Here you were, crawling on top of her and asking her if she wants to go further.

Here you were, asking her if she wanted more.

Clothes were forgotten on the floor.

Hands were desperately feeling for the other’s touch.

This was something new.

And no amount of anxiety or over thinking could of made her pull away.

She adores you with everything she is.

Her confidence was just starting to come to her when-

“Hey Levy did you ever- WOAH WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY HUMAN”

Thankfully pants were still on.

However Mammon’s head was about to be off.

+1. When Mammon finally learned.

Since then nothing but snuggles and cuddles has happened between you and Levy.

And to be honest?

You were fed up.

Every time you two would even so much as kiss something would interrupt you.

Levy was going insane.

Everytime she got comfortable and let her guard down, something spooked her.

And you could tell.

But not today.

No to-fucking-day Mammon!

Levy had been out for hours to get a new game she had been wanting forever that was only available in one store.

You stayed home this time, feigning sick. You were fine, obviously, and just told her you are too much.

You got her room ready.

Anime to binge - check.

Fluffy blankets - check.

Nerdy playlist because you’re both in love with anime dorks - check.

No interruptions - working on it.

This is the part where you bursted into Mammon’s room. Blackmail in hand.

Here we go.

“Mammon! I am going to have a nice evening with my girlfriend, Levy, ALONE. And if you so much as think about trying to get to either of us, I will personally hand this folder of evidence to Lucy.”

“Woah human, what evidence and for what crime? You got no proof I did anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me, what was the one prank Lucy never caught you on?”

“The cups in her office. Why?”

“So you admit you were the one who put all those cups in her office and made her lose hours of work time, ultimately making her sleep less and be extra cranky the next day?”

“Yes and it was hilarious! I wish I could’ve seen her face!”

You pull the recording pen out of your pocket. Yes. Yes you did just pull a Judy Hopps.

Mammon’s face looked pail as a ghost.

“Now you’re going to stay out of my room and out of Levy’s room and I will see you tomorrow at breakfast, or this pen will be hand delivered to Lucy.”

“O-Oi you don’t have to go that far! You could of just told me ta leave you alone!”

“Good.” And with that you left.

————

Mammon was bored. Very bored. There had been multiple times she almost got up to go look for you but then she remembered the pen.

And she sat her ass back down.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me genderbend #obey me x mc #obey me x oc #obey me x y/n #obey me x you #obey me x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan x you #leviathan x mc #leviathan avatar of envy #obey me leviathan

[enkisstories]

Winter!Felix, !SummerSylvain, Halloween!Grima and Denning get summoned to Askr.

This was supposed to be a joke about the costumes, but then they just kept walking and talking and this happened:

 Felix: “What weapons do we have?”

Sylvain: “I have two cocktails…”

Felix (sarcastic): “Wow, that’s sure threatening.”

Sylvain: “…and my sunny disposition.”

Felix (serious): “That actually is threatening. And I have this bow. But although I got the bowknight certification, it is far from my favorite weapon.”

Denning: “I can use a bow to great effect.”

Felix: “Are you an archer?”

Denning: “A messenger. Whose preferred weapon is the bow.”

Felix: “Alright, then, here you go. My weapon is the sword, for your information. Sylvain is a lance cavalier and believe it or not, he also wields magic. But the moment a battle ends, the dude turns off his brain.”

Denning: “That’s a good setup for a three person squad. I can work with it.”

Sylvain: “Are you a tactician?”

Denning: “That would be said too much. I did command my Lord’s troops before, though.”

Felix: “Good! I like how level-headed you are about this fact. Things do not seem to look as grim as they appeared to at first glance.”

Sylvain: “Aw, I bet that makes you sad!” *laughs*

Felix: *merest hint of a smile*

(they walk a short distance, when suddenly a girl in a wolf ears cap stands before them)

Grima: “I’m the wings of despair, the breath of ruin, I’m the Fell Dragon, Grima! Prepare to get devoured!”

Felix: “You know, this is exactly the tone that confirms the prejudices people like Edelgard harbour against dragonkind.”

Sylvain: “Geeze, Felix, can’t you tell she’s flirting?”

Denning: “Well, where I come from, dragons were looking different. More lizard than canine.”

Sylvain: “She’s in her human form and wearing a costume, is all. And may I say that this costume suits you incredibly well, Lady Grima?”

Grima: “Fools! This isn’t how I look at all! I’m only using this body… after some inconvenience that happened to my old one.”

Denning (wistfully): “I see.”

Sylvain: “May I say that this body suits you incredibly well, Lady Grima?”

Felix & Grima both: “Stop it!”

Denning: “In any case, let me deliver greetings from my master, Lord Nergal. He and you might find that you’ve got something in common. If you’re interested to learn more, come visit us at Dread Isle. …only I do not know the way there at the moment.”

Grima: “You… what are you?”

Denning (proudly): “I’m your polar opposite, Lady Grima. As you are using someone else’s body, I use other people’s souls.”

Sylvain and Felix: “Say again?!”

Denning: “It’s a bit more complicated.”

Sylvain: “You aren’t an Agarthean, are you?! – Remind me again why you gave the Slitherer our only weapon, Felix?!”

Denning: “Maybe I am. I don’t know. I was created from the quintessence of fallen warriors. Wasn’t introduced to their remains, sorry.”

Sylvain: “That’s… about the opposite of what the Agartheans do.”

Denning: “You mean these foes of yours use the bones of fallen warriors to create Morphs?”

Sylvain: “The bones they use, but to create weapons.”

Denning: “Oh, that’s actually pretty clever! The quintessence for Morphs and the bones for weapons. Let nothing go to waste.”

Grima: “Shut up you freaks! All of you! And now come. We’ll need to get the bearings of this new land.”

(keeps close to Denning)

Denning: “I’m glad you are keeping close to me, Lady Grima. Does that mean you are considering Lord Nergal’s invitation?”

Grima: “Not your business, mortal… But, say, you were created for a specific purpose, yes?”

Denning: “Correct. I’m also equipped with the means to fulfill this purpose. And with Felix’ bow.”

Grima: “A purpose, huh? Did it ever occur to your creator to create life just for the sake of it? To see what would happen?”

Denning: “Did you create life in this fashion, Lady Grima?”

Grima: “Life was created. And you know what it did, what was the first thing the fucking stupid creature did? Smiled at their creator!”

Denning: “It smiled at you? Aw, that’s adorable!”

Grima: “Yeah… totes adorable…” *spits*

Denning: “Is something…”

Grima: “I don’t want to talk to you worms anymore!”

Denning: “As you wish.” *falls back*

Sylvain: “What are you doing, Denning? The Lady told you she didn’t want to talk anymore, that means she’s about to dump her backstory onto you and then… you know. Herself.”

Denning: “She said she did NOT want to talk.”

Sylvain: “Exactly! That’s how you know a girl is ready to talk some more! You’re almost there!”

Denning: “Go talk to Felix, then. His whole posture says Don’t Talk to me on pain of death. Going by your logic, he must be madly in love with you!”

Sylvain: “Oh, he is! As I am with him!”

Denning: “Look, Sylvain, Felix, and Lady Grima, too. I’m made up of maybe a dozen human life sparks. And it’s still not enough to make sense of you three.”

Grima: “Ruuuuude…”

Denning: “I’m a messenger. I don’t care about its contents, I just deliver the message. Without fail, too.”

Felix: *chuckles*

Sylvain: “Oh, isn’t someone full of himself…”

Denning: “And I don’t normally… speak. I deliver messages and kill whatever is in the way.”

Grima: “Same here. Uh, I meant shame on you, worm! Not “same”. You and I have nothing in common!”

(eventually they set up camp)

Felix: “We’ve got my coat and two cocktails to keep warm...”

Sylvain: “Way ahead of you! I picked four straws while we were walking. So me and you can share a cocktail and Denning and Lady the other.”

Grima: “Pfft. I don’t drink. I’m probably drunk on power, but that’s just natural for a higher lifeform in the presence of vermin.”

Sylvain: “Okay, then. You, Denning?”

Denning: “I don’t know if I drink. But then again, I didn’t know I had to eat, either. It’s my second ever emotion: being hungry. I was held captive at Ositia after a battle… I whimpered… and a handsome spy* came looking what was going on in the dungeon. And then, bamm, a silver light engulfed him, and someone said “Ah, another Poison Strike”, and then the silver light came back for me and then I arrived here.”

Grima: “What was the first emotion?”

Denning: “Dedication. I existed to serve my creator and doing that filled me.”

Felix: “Oh, no! Not another of those shitheads! Nergal’s hound, are you?!”

Denning: “Pigeon, more like it. You don’t wanna meet his hounds. They’ve got… fangs.” *chuckles*

Grima (acidic): “Aw, cutesy little pigeon… don’t grow too fast, lest your Nergal will kill you.”

Denning: “Is that what you did with the life you created? How wasteful! We at Dread Isle…”

Sylvain: “We know what you are doing with the dead at Dread Isle, Denning! You’ve told us once, I don’t need to hear it a second time!”

Grima: “Are you sure Nergal shares your view of his resourcefulness? He wouldn’t just destroy his creations when they grew too strong?”

Denning: “I’ve only ever seen him send his creations into their deaths when it served him. Never willfully.”

Grima: “I may meet up with him some day, after all.” *yawns* “Nightie-night, pigeon. Have nightmares, I mean.”

Sylvain: “What about Felix and me? Don’t you care for us at all?!”

Grima (sarcastic): “I care so much about you, I wanna have your baby, Sylvain!”

Sylvain: “Oh. Ah, okay. Like all the others.” *disappointedly leans into Felix*

*everyone falls asleep*

*…Chances are as the youngest morph Denning has quintessence of Leila in him. That would prompt him to view Matthew with her eyes at least partially.

Continued here: https://enkisstories.tumblr.com/post/646751317794144257/forging-bonds-bows

#feh #fe heroes #fire emblem heroes #fe grima #fe denning #fe felix #fe sylvain #fe 7 #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem echoes #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem blazing blade #fire emblem blazing sword #fe leila #fe matthew #non sims

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 9

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader   Warnings: One big boy word. Late stage violence (like, literally the last line). Word count: 3,122.   Chapter Summary: Guess it’s time to meet your maker. A/N: Dun, dun, dun!!!!!

Ao3 if you prefer

Once again, it was Friday. She woke up a little later than usual because she was working from home on the advise of the Winchesters. She noticed that she was running low on body wash while she showered and added this to her list. She purposefully picked two odd socks to wear—one pastel pink and one baby blue—because under her jeans nobody would notice. Not that she planned on seeing too many people. The day was full of the usual formalities that she expected out of every single day, which she supposed is why she felt so peaceful. Never would she have suspected that this serenity she had found was the calm before the storm. Never would Y/N have thought that this was the tranquility some people experience on the day before they die.

“Like hell, is it,” you respond to the inside of your car as your foot presses a little harder on the gas pedal. Your speedometer zips past the ‘within 10%’ of the speed limit you’d normally drive at until you’re going 90 in a 70. You are, like she says, calm. You’re a great big blanket of calm even speeding along the interstate. Because you know exactly where you’re going. A little suburb that backs onto Lake Easter in Des Moines.

You’d almost hit the road the day before except by the time you’d street viewed the home you were traveling to, memorized three different routes, and talked yourself in and out of going several times; it was too late. What should have been a good day yesterday—a successful rookie mission and an unexpected kiss—had become all about her. Emma Effiel. You’d looked up her social media and scrolled back as far as a Supernatural convention she’d been to some years ago. You’d read an article in her local paper about a pie baking competition she’d won last summer. The paper hadn’t understood her quote as a reference to some books because they had printed it as is: “Dean loves pie.” They hadn’t even questioned who Dean was. Or the reporter must have asked at the time but she’d pretended to know a Dean.

There is a Dean, obviously. The actual Dean. He’s working. He’d called you before you left to tell you they think they have a lead on the shifter. Another death on the other side of town that fits the pattern. They think they can catch this thing now before the insurance claim is even submitted, and put a stop to this. They also think you’re at home, safe and sound, not driving a hundred and something miles to run a quick errand and save your own life.

If everything goes right by the end of the day there will be one less monster in the world and one less voice in your head.

Although it’s not a voice anymore. It’s Emma. She’s in your head.

You slow down when you take exit 9 onto shorter roads with fewer lanes, slowing down is a necessity to not kill yourself on the way to saving yourself. Eventually, you’re chugging along two-lane roads amongst other people going about their lives. A few red lights, some traffic, and then you’re turning onto her road and parking on the street outside her house.

You didn’t know she was home, technically, but there’s a truck in front of her garage. The bumper sticker says ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole’ and you figure it’s a pretty safe bet that she’s inside.

Driving is easy but there’s a lump in your throat when it comes to actually walking to her front door. You’ve been walking since you were 11 months old. This is the hardest it’s ever been to move one foot in front of the other.

Her door is whitewashed wood with a window in the middle. You notice doors because you stand in front of so many, this one just makes you wonder if she’ll recognize you through the glass. If you look how she imagined, or if her brain will be able to even leap to something as crazy as you existing.

She has a doorbell so you press the small rubber button with a lone shaky finger. You hear a classic ding dong reverberate inside her home, although dulled by the walls.

She doesn’t take long to answer the door and once she does you’re paralyzed.

“Hello?”

Even with that one word, it’s her. You’ve heard a thousand or more words in that same vaguely midwestern accent. The interesting thing is actually hearing it outside of your head. Usually, she’s amplified, echoing, taking up the whole of your brain. In front of you, she’s so, to use her own phrase, achingly normal.

“Are you selling something? Because I’m sorry but I’m not interested.”

The door in her hand moves an inch and that triggers you, the thought of this door closing.

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe you’re writing a story about me.” You hadn’t planned what to say, you’d been more concerned with getting here, although you suppose that’s not a bad place to start.

She narrows her eyes at you but the corners of her lips curl slightly, caught in surprise and thinking it’s a prank. “Did-Did someone put you up to this? Is this a joke?”

“No-one put me up to this. My name is Y/N and you’re writing a story about me, or about killing me I guess. I’m an insurance adjuster with a crappy car and I drink tea instead of coffee. Yesterday I visited a bank with Dean Winchester. Oh and there’s this.” You lean down and pull the hem of your jeans above your ankles, enough to show her your mismatched socks. One pale pink and one baby blue.

She looks between the two strips of fabric peeking out of your shoes. Her bottom lip trembles and her chest shudders to a stop. And then, when she brings her line of sight back up to your face, she faints.

It happens quickly. One minute she's standing there and the next she's collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. The only thing you can think of is what if someone sees this, so logically you do the only thing you can, you step inside and around her. She's only out for a few seconds, she's opening her eyes by the time you click the door closed.

You go through it again. She's woken up half groggy, half scared, and still questioning who you were. With the addition of now asking why you were inside her home.

The thing is, she knows it's you. That's why she'd fainted. Each time she asks is only confirming the obvious fact. It takes a few minutes but eventually, she admits it out loud. She knows you are who you claim to be, and she knows because an image of you was inside her head. You’d laughed at that, almost certain that she didn’t mean it in quite the same way as you've had to deal with. But that was a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t covered yet.

“How did you find me?” She’s got her legs tucked into her chest and her hands wrapped around a heavy glass filled with some amber colored alcohol. Possibly bourbon but you weren’t going to question her, even if it's still eleven in the morning. She’d made you a tea and although you hadn’t told her, she’d made it exactly how you liked it.

“That, well, wasn’t me actually. I have a friend, Stan, he’s done some work for me before. I asked him to try and find you. I didn’t know if he would manage it, I only had your blog to go on.”

Another gulp of her drink. “My blog? You-you’ve read my blog?”

“Yes. I’ve read it.” You state the fact as simply as possible in short, sharp sentences. She is struggling to some things still by now you’re used to a little crazy.

“But you said you hear-hear me writing it? Did you hear me writing earlier?”

“When you casually mentioned that I die tomorrow? Yes. I don’t hear, God, not all of it. I don’t know why…” you let out this laugh, all strangled and broken. It’s a laugh but you are not happy. The bitterness you’ve buried deep down comes crawling out of your throat. “I don’t know why I hear you at all! I don’t hear all of it though. And there are things I didn’t do, like-like I didn’t sleep with Dean.”

There’s something that looks like relief on her face, which she explains when you pointedly stare at her, “oh I wouldn’t have felt good about forcing you to…you know.”

“You’re planning on killing me.” You deadpan.

She looks like she has no idea what to say to that and you have a thousand things to say, that's kind of why you did the drive, so you continue. “Don’t get me wrong, I kissed him and I think I like him but how do I know when I can hear you? You’re in my head whenever he’s around telling me what I’m feeling and what I’m thinking and… how do I know what’s real and what's your imagination?”

Emma is staring at the melting ice cube in her almost empty glass like she hasn’t heard a word you said, lost in her disbelief. You let her stare. You're trying to be patient, you can appreciate that you’d had a lot longer to get used to this than she had.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re sitting there in front of me, drinking my tea. Talking about my story like it’s…”

“Real?”

She nods, afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she opens it again.

You take a sip of your tea. “Now you know how I felt when I read Supernatural and then Sam and Dean showed up.”

“Wait, you’ve read Supernatural?”

“You didn’t know?”

She shakes her head and you realize that she’d never mentioned it. Your imminent death sure, but she’d never mentioned the books you read and how disarming it had been to meet the characters from them. Only that it was disarming to find out monsters existed at all.

“Fuck, that means Sam and Dean are?”

You manage to smile at that and the idea of her finding your existence to be more impressive than theirs. Even with her bumper sticker. “Yeah, they’re real too. They’re hunting the shifter literally as we speak.”

She creases her brow, “they’re not? They didn’t want to come here?” She must be thinking back to Chuck, to the story of the writer in the book, and how Sam and Dean couldn’t help but investigate.

“I didn’t tell them about you. I mean, I kind of thought I was going crazy at first. Even when you were right about everything I only thought you were right because you were a figment of my imagination, or like, a tumor. I only realized you were,” you wave a hand in her direction, tired of saying the word ‘real’ again, “when I found the story. It’s good, by the way. The story I mean. I read a lot of books, I guess you already knew that, and this is up there. That’s not biased because it’s about me. I thought it would have been weird but actually it was nice to see my life through your eyes. You made me more important.”

Emma nods somehow understanding even if she has no clue, “I can’t believe you read it. Although if we’re playing the game of what I can’t believe the most, it’s definitely still sitting here talking to you.”

Your mind goes back to that part of the story you hadn’t heard but you’d read on your phone. The paragraph had stuck in your head when you read it and in the days since it repeats at particularly quiet moments.

Y/N had never considered herself the main character, not even in her own life. Main characters, those in the books she read, were always so interesting. A tragic past or a troubled present and the perfect amount of development for an interesting future. These characters kept her reading in bed till three in the morning because she needed to know how they would handle their next danger or heartbreak. Or how would that particularly brilliant one figure out who the murderer was with nothing to go on. Main characters could be anything or anyone and next to them Y/N felt so helplessly ordinary. She woke up five days a week and went to her job, she paid her bills on time and went for groceries on Sunday mornings. She always thought she was a supporting character, black and white in a world of color.

She was, of course, absolutely irrefutably wrong.

You hadn’t believed it, a part of you still didn’t believe it now, but that was before you saw the way Emma looked at you. Granted she was the person who wrote it, and yet it was still there in her eyes. Awe. Past the shock and disbelief, this woman was in awe of sitting in a room with her main character. And you remember how you felt reading the story, how much you’d wanted to know what happens. Not only because you wanted to know how you were going to die but because in her story you really were the leading lady. Sam and Dean, the characters you’d poured yourself over in the books, were playing second string to your story arc. You remember how beautiful her words had been and by association, how beautiful you’d been.

That's when you decide to ask the question. The one that you've lost sleep thinking about, the one that you came all this way to ask. Except as it comes tumbling out of your mouth you're not quite cautionary. You're eager to find out.

“How is it going to end?” 

Your house is quiet when you arrive home. It’s barely dark outside but you’ve driven for more hours than you’re used to. Exhausted does not come close describing how you feel. It’s more than a physical exhaustion—although your back is definitely mad at you—after you’d spent hours talking to Emma you’re mentally ready to check out.

Not check out of life, although, in the end, you’d left that decision up to her.

She let you read where she was up to, which was about ready to finish the penultimate chapter. Then she’d mentioned she’d have to revise it now. Even though it was perfect. Even though you found yourself smiling at the screen because it was that perfect.

In all the work to find her, you never stopped to consider that maybe you shouldn’t find her. You weren’t ready to die but you’re finding it hard to decide if you’d get a better-written death than the one written by Emma Effiel.

Yes, that’s an absolutely crazy thing to think and Emma had told you it was crazy when you’d dare to say it to her. And it is crazy. In the end, you'd argued with yourself while storming around her coffee table, making cases for both endings and neither endings.

There was a reason you'd left this decision up to her. You couldn't make it.

If she killed you then at least you’d live forever in literature, and if she didn’t, at least you might get some peace and quiet. Although, if she does kill you, you told her to find a book publisher already so it would at least be worth it.

You should eat but after weeks of a thousand reasons to not sleep your bed is finally calling you. Which is why your phone rings.

“Dean?”

“You want the good news or the bad news?” He sounds more tired than you, not that it's a competition. He's just winning anyway.

You kick your shoes off, “there’s good news?”

A pause that could be a shoddy connection. “Alright, you got me. The bad news ain’t so bad though. The lead was a bust, the guy had been wormfood for weeks but it's not the end of the world. We'll find it."

There's a knock at your door, "thanks for letting me know. Listen, I've gotta go, someones here and then I am going to sleep for a really long time. Talk tomorrow?”

"Someone's there?" You wonder if he's always so nosy. You don’t remember that in the books.

Pushing yourself against the door, you check the peephole, "it's only Laura, she’s probably dropping off some new case for me or something. I am still supposed to be working remember."

Dean must hear how calm you are at your friend showing up because he sighs all relieved down the other end of the phone and Laura knocks again. "Sorry, I really have to go. I'll call you tomorrow Dean."

There's some muttering with someone else and then a faint, "sure," as you hang up. Not that it matters. You could see Dean tomorrow, you hoped to see him tomorrow. In case it does end up as your last day on earth.

Laura grins when you open up, "Hi Y/N. Had something to stop by and bring you."

"And there I was thinking that you missed me.” You feign hurt in your voice. “It’s fine I've got some paperwork anyway, think you could take it in on Monday for me?"

She follows you inside and the last thing you hear is the lock close and, "sure thing. Perfect actually."

You turn back to Laura with a small stack of forms from the bank in your hands. That’s when she rams the butt of her gun, a gun you hadn't seen, against the side of your head.

Continue to the Final Chapter. 

5eva tags: @divadinag​​​ @darthdeziewok​​ @fluentinfiction​​ @witch-of-letters​​ @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog​​ @magnitude101999​​ @alexwinchester23​​   Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles​​ @akshi8278​​​ @bloodydaydreamer​ StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblue​​​ @ceisbill​​​

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

I'm 26 arcs into Worm: The Stick Up Brian's Butt

So I'm listening to the We've Got Worm podcast and they keep talking about KingBob, the guy on reddit who really related to Alec and ended up understanding him (and by extension Aisha) far better than most of the other readers.

I haven't really gone into this on this blog, I've been reading Worm for like six months now and I don't update that often, but throughout this read I've been the KingBob to Brian. It's gotten to the point where I actually took a few mental health breaks from reading Worm. I know a lot of people thought Brian was boring and dumb. I'm almost done with Worm now and I feel like the inclusion of Brian this story elevated it, for me, from a fun superhero story to something intensely personal, something that was almost a struggle to read. I know from spoilers that Brian's part in this story is almost over. He isn't my favorite character (Dragon) or even my favorite Undersider (Aisha) but I felt like I should write something before this is over. It wouldn't be an honest blog otherwise, as infrequently as I post.

But Kuno, you say. You're a 22-year-old white female engineering student. Why the hell is this the character you relate to?

For a collection of dumb reasons that add up to a large part of who I am. From the time I was eleven to the time I was about twenty-one, I had night terrors. Seven times a night sometimes, I dreamt vividly of the people I loved getting hurt, hurting me, getting killed, killing me. My students and pets melting in my hands. My mom and I clutching each other on the freeway as we're stopped in traffic, a terrorist approaching our vehicle with a shotgun. We don't make it. The dreams made life almost impossible. Seeing people during the day and being absolutely certain they would die before I saw them again. It didn't matter how many times I saw them come back okay. They never would.

I'm afraid of everything. Every missed phone call is a sudden death. Every text message brings terrible news. Every possible situation brings danger, but if my friends go, I can't let them go without me. Something could happen. They'd be safe as long as I could see them. If I was looking at them, everything would be okay. Some child psychologist I spoke to at a young age noted I was a "natural leader". To this day, I lead because I am a control freak. I am afraid of what would happen if I let someone else be in control.

Interlude 15 fucked me up.

My fatal flaw extends from this. I'm terrified that people will see me as weak. I dated a boy on my robotics team when I was in high school. I treated him like shit in public because I didn't want anyone to think I cared about him, even though he was my boyfriend. What would they think of me if they saw there was a person I treated as an equal? Horrible things. I became a better girlfriend to another boy, years later, because someone mentioned to me they thought I could be a good girlfriend, and that it was rough, calloused girls who were the weak ones. It was the perfect two sentences to convince me that for people to see me as strong, I had to be a good girlfriend.

In the We've Got Worm podcast, Scott and Matt always mention that each of the Undersiders brings the team down somehow, their inputs to every situation silly or stupid. I was confused. I always thought Grue's avoidance of conflict, always taking the slow, deliberate path, was the right way to go. Then I realized that, to many, this behavior indicates brokenness. Maybe they're right.

Yeah so I said I'd talk about the stick up Brian's butt in arcs 25 and 26. I don't think he has much to say for the rest of Worm so here we go. I'm building off a lot of what the WGW guys say, but I think I can take it a little farther.

So in arc 10 the WGW guys point out that Brian resists letting Taylor back on the team until the precise moment when it becomes apparent that everyone else wants her back, when he suddenly changes tactics to talking about how they "need her for offense". They make the imo correct deduction that this is because he's afraid of looking weak. Everyone knows Taylor likes him, so, logically, to be Stoic Leader Man he should want her to go away. He needs permission to want her back on the team. Once he has that permission, he is all for it.

I know that sounds convoluted but trust me as a person with exactly these issues this makes perfect sense.

Arc 11, Brian has still not decided to be Taylor's friend again. This is because she's on the team to be offense. Their friendship doesn't help nobody's offense. When Lisa calls him and tells him he needs to lay up on her, that to be her friend would be good, he goes directly to Taylor's house and declares them... best friends. Because Lisa has given him permission to do so.

I hope you're following because I'm aware this is stupid.

In arc 12, I'm gonna veer a little to the side. Let's talk about Brian's second trigger, just so that I can educate the public on exactly how this came around. Keep in mind that trigger events happen from a long period of a specific type of stress coming to a head. And that Brian's previous trigger happened from feeling like he maybe couldn't help Aisha for a long time, and then suddenly being hit with the fact that he definitely couldn't help her.

Arc 1: The Undersiders save Taylor who was saving them from Lung Arc 2: Brian punches Rachel for attacking Taylor Arc 4: Taylor gets blown up by Bakuda, Brian sits in her hospital room and stares at this for presumably a while Arc 5: Taylor looks like she's been hanged, having fought Lung again Arc 7: Taylor and Rachel are attacked by the ABB, Brian shows up late. Taylor is attacked later the same day by Sophia, Brian shows up pretty late. Taylor propositions the boy, he tells her he thinks of her like he thinks of his sister. I am 100% certain at this point, looking back, that this was an early indication that the second trigger process was starting towards a lack of ability to keep up with Taylor. He wasn't just saying he thought of her like he would think of her if they were related, he thinks of her like Aisha specifically, the one his power is attached to. His little brain is drawing the equivalences already. Arc 8: Broken spine, betrayal, yadda yadda Arc 9: Sophia attempts murder because it's Tuesday Arc 10: Brian pretends to not want Taylor to come back Arc 11: Brian does his now-classic "walks into room/why is Taylor injured/maybe she should not be doing this" routine Arc 12: Repeat of arc 11, except now he starts stumbling over her name. He tells her she should have let her people die. If there's a point onscreen when he realizes there might be something going on, this is it.

Point is, this has been stewing in the background since as early as arc 1 and as late as arc 7 but probably actually started in arc 4. It wasn't out of the blue, it was the logical culmination of the entire story's events thus far from Brian's perspective.

Arc 13: Yeah, you know what happens here. In the final chapter, he tells her he thinks about her too much, but even though he received a new set of superpowers and a vision from aliens telling him that he probably loves her, the vision is definitely wrong and he just feels like he can't keep up with her.

She's been attacked by everyone. Lung, Rachel, Bakuda, Sophia, Armsmaster, Leviathan, the Merchants, Mannequin. He doesn't want her to keep fighting, he feels he needs to be the one to do it. At the same time, he knows he's not powerful enough. No one power is enough to deal with all of these threats.

No single power.

But he doesn't love her. That would mean he was weak.

He doesn't even agree to have dinner with her in 15. He allows it to happen because Aisha set it up. She knows what's going on, and she has given him permission to have this.

Aisha had to be the one to give him permission because his previous powerset was for her, and now it doesn't work with her, either. At the same time as his second trigger was stewing under the surface for Taylor, he was losing his power's connection to Aisha because their powers didn't work together and he kept being forced to forget she exists. He had lived for her before, and being Super Big Brother was exactly what Brian wanted to be. Now, Aisha doesn't want to be lived for. She wants to be her own person.

Brian spends the next several arcs simply living for Taylor.

I strongly suspect that the side effect of Brian's power is that it makes him pathologically need to be 100% responsible for others. No matter how dumb everyone's plans are, he always has to be there. No matter how stupid it is, Coil told him being a villain will allow him to get his sister back. No matter how dumb it is, he tells Taylor she has to sit out running from the Nine in arc 13 because she might be tired. He pays for it.

Brian's powers will probably never actually allow him to get over Taylor Hebert. It's like Taylor and bullies. No amount of therapy or time will get Brian's shard to let the fuck go.

So when the girl whom you are physically incapable of not thinking about leaves and goes to prison and tells every single person on the planet exactly how weak you are, who goes to an even more dangerous situation where you cannot follow her, what can you do?

The only possible thing. Try your absolute damnedest to pretend you never knew her.

You walk out of that meeting with the most powerful people in the world because she is there. You go find yourself somebody else. Another girl. Taylor hated her little boobs? This girl has big boobs. Taylor can't stay away from violence? Cozen seriously appears to have never even seen a corpse.

When Taylor comes back, Brian greets her with the new girl on his arm. He tries to shake her hand. Time has passed. There's nothing between them any more.

The next day, Grue is presented with the choice of pushing back against Taylor and standing with the new girl, whoever she is, or supporting Taylor. He chooses Taylor.

Of course he does. The situation calls for it. The situation has given him permission.

#worm #parahumans #brian laborn #ward #kuno speaks #thanks for reading to the end #i know this was long and personal #talk to me about it if you want #please

[descendantofthesparrow]

Part of your world - Harry Hook x reader - Part 15 - talk

a rewrite of the harry hook x reader that @bluediamondsevie wrote for me

summary: a who doesn’t love the Disney World, well, (y/n) especially loves descendants, and one day, as she dances in her kitchen getting ready to head out. 17-year-old (y/n) becomes part of that world, now a certain blue-eyed pirate meets the girl from a world where he is a fictional character and he has an actor named Thomas Doherty.

 Key:

 h/c- hair color

 e/c- eye color

 h/l- hair length

 s/c- skin color

 y/n- your name

 your stuff

---

You were glad to get that off your shoulders, the relief of knowing you no longer had to ignore Harry was exhilarating. Now you sat at one of the tables, waiting for Harry to return, Uma stalked around the shop, taking and dropping off orders.

You sighed and dug through your bag, withdrawing your sketchpad and pencil, opening to a blank page.  You sat for a moment, not knowing what to draw before inspiration hit you, and you began to draw.

10 minutes later, a pretty goddamn good looking sketch of Harry was on your page, from his diamond cut jawline to his soft fluffy hair, it was Harry.

Specifically, it was Harry from a week ago, when you, Uma, Gil, and Harry were chilling on the deck of the revenge, and Harry had laughed at one of Gils jokes, and you had locked the memory of his face in your brain (as you have done many times) and now you had sketched it out. It was one of the few times you saw the true harry, not harry hook, son of captain. Without the eyeliner and hook, he was just a 17-year-old boy who was kind and loving to the people he cared about. But to others, he was a psychopathic, bloodthirsty, and uncaring.

But he wasn’t like that, not really.

He was the boy you loved, you would never leave his side, not if you could do anything about it.

--- Mal pov---

“okay! Okay, so what are we gonna do?” Jay asked, silencing Evie and Carlos, all three looked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

“we!” I spoke, stalking over to them and grabbing my bag “are not doing anything, this is between Uma and me, and shes a punk and guess what?! Now I have to go and get him!!”

Carlos quickly tried to stop me, holding his hands in front of him “woah woah woah, you’re still going to have to go through harry hook and his wharf rats”

“Yeah,” jay jumped in “besides, in the short time we've been here, I've heard Umas got a new crew member that took down Hook, you’re gonna need us”

I rolled my eyes, Hook wasn’t that hard to take down,…I hoped, he was one of the few Villains that scared me.

“Uma said to come alone”

“Mal come on.” Evie pleaded, I just made a face and shrugged, Carlos sighed and made his final statement

“Uma said to come alone. I know one thing, I’m not going anywhere” Carlos flopped onto the couch, looking up at the three of us. Jay sighed and said; “we’ll be here when you get back.”

I just nodded and started to walk out.

--

I arrived at the chip shop and slammed open the doors, seeing shrimpy tossing orders to her patrons, not caring if they were correct or not.

I smirked when she looked up and locked eyes with her, I sang out; “im back~” shrimpy scoffed, and gestures to an empty table

“loser party of one, right this way, please” as I walk forward Shrimpy shoves a chair at me, I fumbled to catch it and she laughed cruelly.

I sit and look around, it still stunk like old fish and shit.

“place still stinks”

Shrimpy made a face of innocence “oh im sorry, we were down a butler today…princess” I glared, hating the name.

“where is he?” shrimpy only laughed and tossed her apron onto the floor, grinning at me.

“you know I've dreamed of this? You wanting something from me, and me watching you squirm like a worm on a hook~”

“im so flattered that you dream of me, I haven’t given you thought since I left”

Shrimpy growled and slammed her hands on the table, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore, my sights had locked onto a girl.

A girl with (h/c) (short/long) hair, and (s/c) skin, she turned slightly to look at shrimpy, and I recognized her as the girl I saw on the rooftops earlier today.

‘Oh, so shes apart of shrimpy’s crew’ Mal thought, turning back to shrimpy, hiking her hand on the table, prepared to not lose ben to the sea bitch ‘that makes it easier’

---

Fuck! Shrimpy wanted the wand in exchange for Ben, shit.

“there's no way we can give Uma the wand, we can't just let her destroy Auradon!!” Evie forced out, panicking over the situation.

“if we don’t give her the wand bens toast” Carlos ground out, Evie just waved her hands around still panicking “great! So we're just gonna give Uma of all people the wand!” a thought came to my head, Carlos’ printer!!

“wait, you guys!! Your 3D printer!”

Carlos’ eyes brightened and he smiled “ a phony wand” “yeah!” “im my sleep!” Evie stopped us with logic “but the second Uma tests it, she’ll know it’s a fake”

“then we’ll just get Ben out really fast we’ll need some kind of diversion” the four of us Sat for a second before Jay jumped in “smoke bombs” I grinned and pointed at him, Evie jumps at the idea “that’s perfect! I’ll get the chemicals we need at lady Tremaine’s place, that could work!”

Evie walked over to me and complimented my hair, I gushed that Dizzy did it and Evie squealed, but the boys brought us back down to earth.

“Oh, one more thing!!” Evie, Carlos, and Jay stopped, looking at me in confusion.

“remember the girl the FG wanted us to find?” they all nodded, clearly remembering the picture of the (h/c), (e/c) girl.

“shes apart of Uma’s crew, when the smoke bombs go off, who ever’s closest to her, grabs her.”

They nodded.

“we’re sending her back home, no matter the cost”

--- back to you---

You were finishing another sketch of Harry, though this time Uma and Gil were apart of the sketch. It was a sketch from a week ago, just like your last sketch, but this was when you were sitting across from the trio and the sight of them being normal teenagers instead of vk striving to escape their hell hole had burned into your memory.

As you finished the details of Harry's hair, you felt a presence behind you. Glancing behind, it was one of Gils brothers…the one you first encountered on your arrival to the isle.

He smirked cruelly and tore the sketchbook away from you, you growled and tried to grab it but he held it above you, laughing.

“come on girly~ don’t you want your book back?!” you snarled, jumping trying to snatch it, when the oaf grabbed your waist and pressed you against his chest, making him smirk at the squish of your chest.

“let me go you fuckin cunt”

“oh such a dirty mouth, don’t worry, I know how to clean it~” you paled at his remark, as he glanced down at his crotch, and then at your mouth. Disgusting.

“tell ya what, if you do a little something for me, I’ll give you back your book, if you know what I mean”

You quickly tried to wriggle away, but his grip held tight, and he cackled but stopped when a hook was pressed against his neck.

You sighed in relief, Harry was here.

“I suggest ye put the lass down ye Gypit Hoor” Gaston jr gulped and released you, but he still had your sketchbook and Harry noticed, he gripped the wrist holding the book and twisted it, Gaston gasped and released the book, it fell to the floor. You rushed to grab it and shuffled behind Harry.

Harry growled in Gaston jr’s ear and whispered something. He paled and nodded, Harry huffed and released him, Gaston took the opportunity and bolted.

You sighed and flipped open the book, checking for damage. Luckily only a corner of the cover was scuffed.

Looking up you saw Harry gently gazing at you, you could see the question in his soft ocean blue eyes.

‘are you okay?’

You smiled and nodded. He smiled back and tilted his head, raising his eyebrow.

“Now lass, ye said ye wanted to talk?” you nodded, but reached out and tugged at his jacket nodding towards the door.

“yes, but in private, its important that this is only for your ears”

Harry's eyes widened and he nodded, following you out the door and to the ship, as you walked side by side, you didn’t notice Harry glance at your free hand, he bit his lip, wondering how you would react.

Fuck it.

Shyly reaching out, he brushed his fingers with yours, you jumped slightly, and with that he retracted, his face pink.

You glanced at his face, seeing his embarrassment, he-he wanted to hold your hand?

…fuck why is he so cute!...

Knowing he lost his nerve to do it again, you reached out and curled your pinkie around his.

Harry turned red, only thinking ‘holy shit holy shit holy shit, im holding (y/n)s hand holy shit’

Soon you arrived at the ship, but even when you entered your room, Harry didn’t release your hand. Continuing to lock his fingers with yours.

“sooo” Harry mumbled, curious on what you wanted to tell him “what did ye want to tell meh?”

You froze, oh right…tell him who you really were.

You sighed, releasing his hand and taking a deep breath.

You looked up at Harry, who was staring at you in confusion and concern.

“what I am about to tell you is not to leave this room, understood, this is a secret between you and me.” Harry nodded, and his eyes turned serious.

You internally smiled, glad to have his support back. Now, to tell him. Just let it out in one go.

“I’m not from the Isle” Harry made a face, what?

“im, not an Auradon runaway either” Harry swallowed harshly. What was going on? Did-did you lie to him the entire time he knew you?!

“im from a different dimension where you are a character from a movie called Descendants 2”

Harry only stared at you, you lied to him? Pain started to seep from his chest “wha’- wha’ about yer ma? The one ye told meh ye escaped from?”

“im sorry but I lied to you about that, I didn’t know how you react to suddenly meeting a girl from a different dimension?! Tell me to harry what would you have done if I immediately told you who I really was?”

Harry's pain decreased, dear god what would he have done? Meeting a girl who knew the ins and outs of this world?

“i-I would have takin’ ye hostage and forced the information out’ve ye”

You nodded hurt by knowing that Harry would have hurt you just to get information about his world, to rule over it.

“s-s, but how do I know ye are telling the truth, for I know ye are just pulling me leg?” you were prepared for this, fishing your phone from your pocket, you unlocked it and opened the page from earlier. “Thomas Doherty”

You handed the phone to harry and his eyes widened at the identical boy on the screen, he saw beneath the picture was a description.

“Harry Hook played by Thomas Doherty”

He quickly pressed the images tab, seeing multiple pictures of the actor who looked exactly like him, before stopping at a picture, one of Him Uma and Gil, all standing on the stage, Uma and Gil grinning at each other, he himself was glaring at Gil.

“wh-where are ye?” you sighed, shoulders slumping, “im not there because im not supposed to be, im technically supposed to standing in front of you right now actually”

Harry nodded slowly, glancing back down at your phone. He sighed walking forward and bumping his forehead on yours, making you slump in relief and you fell into his side.

“I understand lass, but” you drew back slightly looking up at his face, confusion, and pain set on it.

“why did ye ignore me?”

Releasing a shaky breath you slowly revealed what happened, though some reasoning was changed.

“I told Uma bout me being from another world, and” “wait Uma knows?” “yes, I told her yesterday.” “alright continue”

“anyway, and I realized something, you and I had become really close, and I thought that if I left this world, you would be hurt by it, and so to spare you the pain of that, I started to ignore you. But Uma kinda cornered me and told me something that changed my mind, and now…here we are.”

Harry nodded, before seeming to think something over.

“(y/n)?” you hummed, looking into his eyes “what do ye mean ‘if ye leave this world’ ?” you sighed and hugged yourself, “there's a chance that Im forced back into my world”

Harry growled, like hell that would happen, he just got you back!!

“but” Harry stopped, what? “I won't leave your side, not if there's anything I can do about it.”

Harry nodded and seemed to ponder over something for a minute. Before holding out a fist, his pinkie finger extended. And he spoke in a slightly broken voice

“ye promise?” you didn’t hesitate, threading your pikie with his, smiling at him, determination in your eyes

“I promise”

As you both stood there, you saw Harry's eyes flash towards your lips, your eyes widened slightly, what?

Harry began to lean in slightly, you ignored the condescending voice in your head, leaning in as well, but before anything really happened, the door slammed open, and there stood Uma, a proud grin on her face.

“come on you two, we gotta go over the specifics of the plan for tomorrow with the crew”

She turned and made her way back to the deck. You and Harry stood there for a moment, faces red, before Harry broke away from you, walking to the door, you stared sadly at his back, thinking you had gone back after the awkward moment just then, before he stopped and looked back at you, extending his hand, and smiling softly.

“Shall I escort ye me lady~” you giggled and grasped his hand letting him lead.

“you shall~”

Dear god, you hope you never had to leave this handsome pirates side~

 ---end of part 15---

Comment or message me for part 16

taglist:

@namelesslosers

@crazybutconfidentaf

@lukes-princess

@starrykitn

@marvel-ousnesss

#part of your world #harry hook x reader #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook imagine #harry hook fanart #my art #disney descendants #Descendents #descendants

[mycandylovefanatics]

I loved when anon asked about the boys getting stoned xD I was dying of laughter. Can you please do that for Nath, Priya, and Ken? You're awesome 😊😍

Nathaniel

Nathaniel is another one to not want to regularly get high, if at all. Honestly I really don’t think using marijuana is in his realm of activities lmao he might have tried it out of curiosity ONCE after high school or something but there’s also a chance he stayed away from it altogether. Idk man I need more information on this dude but ANYWAYS for this scenario we’ll say he tried it out.

He’s been stressed as all hell this past week, and he thinks he’s about to lose his mind if he can’t catch a break at some point. We’ll use the same outing scenario as last time. You invite him to hang out with you and some friends for a little get together. He has nothing better to do so why not?

He’s having an okay time, enjoying your company but you can feel that he’s still a little tense. “Nath, are you okay? You seem a little out of it tonight.” And he’ll sigh, “I know, I’m just pretty stressed out. I have to deal with some... things this week.” You already know from the look on his face what he means by ‘things’. You think of something to make him feel better, to get him to relax and then you remember! You brought some goods with you. You offer him to take a hit off your dab pen, and the look on his face is hilarious. He’s like wtf candy since when do you smoke the DEVILS LETTUCE? Nah, lmao he’s not a prude or anything anymore but he’s definitely a little taken aback by your offer. “When did you start…?” His first reaction is to get a bit annoyed with you, because he’s not really a fan of any of that stuff. Buuuut when he feels the headache that he’s had for three days straight now, he’s like “...Fuck it.” He knows that weed has its medicinal purposes, and even if it isn’t intended for that in this case, at least he knows it doesn’t have necessarily bad effects. And he trusts you enough to know it’s not laced lmao In this case a dab pen for him is the best option because he doesn’t want to have to keep dealing with that burning lung sensation. Let him take one good hit and leave it at that. He’ll still cough though cause poor baby has never done this before.

Give it a good 30-40 minutes. You’ll probably notice he’s high before he does. You’re all chatting about any and everything. He’s listening, laughing occasionally when someone says something funny. He’s holding your hand, man it feels so nice and warm. He realizes his headache is gone and he feels great. He thinks he’s perfectly fine, until Rosa asks him a question. “Nate do you want another beer?” And Nathaniel just looks at her, and it takes him like ten whole seconds to respond. He’s like “......what??” And now he’s even more confused because everyone is laughing at him, but this just makes him laugh right along with them. “What’s so funny guys?”

And then self awareness hits him and he’s just so… chill? He’s the type of person who gets high and just rides the wave man. He knows he’s high, he can tell because he feels like everything is moving in slow motion lmao. But it feels niiiice. His whole body relaxes, his headache is gone, and he’s got his girl next to him? Hell yeah. He’s fine but just check on him occasionally to make sure he doesn’t need anything. He’s got real bad cotton mouth so some water will do him well. “Nath are you okay?” You ask, and he just looks at you with this dumb smile on his face, his eyes nearly closed from how much he’s squinting. “...uhhh yeah I’m good babe,” he giggles a bit. And then he’ll go back to his little realm of paradise. Honestly he’s handling this pretty well for his first time, just keep holding his hand to comfort him and all will be well.

Priya

I have no doubt that Priya has definitely had a few encounters with Mary Jane. She may not be a regular smoker or anything but when she’s in a really good mood she for sure will indulge herself in some recreational activities. 4/20 celebrations are always fun if she decides to go that year. She’s definitely more of a blunt gal too, so she can pace herself. She knows her limits and she knows how to handle herself probably the best out of everyone. But she’s not stupid and she’s not going to smoke if she doesn’t know who the green is coming from. She doesn’t trust just anyone and she certainly doesn’t pass the blunt to just anyone. Only trusted friends in her circle, so you, Rosa, Alexy, Morgan, Castiel, etc. Honestly if she feels like everyone would be okay and comfortable with it, she might be the person offering it up in the first place lmao. And Priya’s got some GOOD shit so don’t try to hog the blunt or you’re gonna end up on your ass somewhere. (Lemme get your weed man’s number girl)

When she’s high she’s sooooo chill and nice to be around. She’ll just lie back, laughing and joining in on whatever convo. You’re laying on her chest while she runs her fingers through your hair. She’s like the mom friend when she’s high, because she makes sure everyone is okay instead of the other way around. It’s weird because while she is high, she’s also fully capable of doing everything? Like, she could drive if she really wanted to but she won’t because she’s got common sense.

So with all of that being said, don’t even worry about her. Her and Cas are probably having the time of their lives watching everyone else get all loopy. She also has mad munchies!! So if you can’t find her, your best bet is the kitchen. She’s on the floor with Castiel, both of them eating out of a giant container full of ice cream, not even caring to get bowls. She’ll see you standing there with a raised eyebrow and with a mouth full of triple chocolate brownie ice cream, she asks “You want thome Y/N?” And hands you a spoon. So now you’re sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with Priya and Castiel all eating out of this container.

Kentin

Ohhhh boy. Kentin is that one who gets wayyyyy too high for his first time. Curiosity probably gets the better of him and he tries an edible. Normally he’s not interested in that kind of thing, but he's around people he trusts, and you’re there so you’ll make sure he’s okay right? He eats about half of it and waits for about 20 minutes. Nothing is happening and he’s like, hm these must be weak and decides to eat the other half too…. Jesus Christ Kentin why are you so impatient all the time. You’re all sitting around Rosa’s coffee table hanging out. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves with light conversation about whatever, someone is laughing about something. He’s listening, eyeing the burning candle in the middle of the table. Wow, fire is so cool. Oh man, this candle smells so good. At some point, he’s not sure when, but at some point…everyone’s voices turn to a weird muffled background noise. He can hear what’s being said, but none of the words are processing. And man this candle sure is nice to look at??

You notice he’s completely zoned out, eyes red and squinted at the candle. He’s been like that for about 5minutes but to him it feels like it’s been forever. You grab his hand and ask if he’s okay, and that’s when he snaps out of his trance for a bit. “Um, I think so? I feel really heavy Y/N, am I gonna die?” And then he’s like ohhhh myyYY GOD, and he lays his face on the table, groaning. “Y/N I can’t feel my face,” he says rubbing his cheek. And then he keeps rubbing his cheek.

“Oh my god you’re peaking, how much did you eat Kentin?”

And he looks at like and shrugs with his hands up like “I ate the whole thing because it wasn’t working.”

“Kentin that’s why you have to wait at least 45 minutes!”

“Ohhh... haha! Oh well then. Are you gonna take care of me babe?” And at that point you just have to sign and rub his head. “Yes, I’m going to take care of you.”

You really have to watch this one because if you’re not careful he might start freaking out ever so often. Like logically he knows he’s okay with you but his brain is just like no DANGER. Just keep rubbing his head, holding his hand and give him lottttts of water. Keep reassuring him that he’s fine and like Lysander, give him some music to listen to. He’ll be okay after about an hour. Still high as shit, but he feels safe now lmao and you can tell by how he’s dancing completely off beat to music that no one else can hear. Give it another 20 minutes and now he’s bugging you for food. “Baaaabe, do you have any candy? I really want some gummy worms.”

#mcl #amour sucre #mycandylove #corazon de melon #cdm #nathaniel #as #mclul headcanons #mclul nathaniel #mclul priya #mcl kentin #nathaniel headcanons #priya headcanons #kentin headcanons #mcl priya #mcl ken #mcl nathaniel #marijuana #weed

[sick-raven]

Ghosts of the Past - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 7

Terry awkwardly looked around. They didn’t imagine this. Torture chamber? Sure. Dark cellar with horrible lighting? Filthy factory where chemicals eat the skin off your hands. That all when the scary lady told them to go to this address.

“Mum! Look at that elephant! It’s huuuuge!”

Terry definitely didn’t imagine a toyshop.

“Kids are sometimes loud, can you deal with that?”

“Uh… I… If I can rest for a bit after, yeah?”

They knew. The little ding gave it away, but instead of the scary lady there was the owner who could get lost in the crowd. She smiled at them when they entered. Are they in wonderland? Have they died already?

“I am looking for an assistant. The work is not hard. You sell toys, you listen to little devils babble a bit, and when someone scary comes in, you call me.”

Terry was speechless. They came here to die. Instead, Banshee was offering them a job?

“I…”

“Confused, are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I don’t appreciate what you did, but I’ve done worse when pissed off. I’m giving you a chance. And the pay check is not half bad.” She handed them a paper. Terry gasped over the amount. That was not payment for a shop assistant!

“What’s the catch?”

“You keep your mouth shut if you see something weird.”

“Like Banshee?”

“Exactly. It’s Miranda, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

So, Terry got a job. When they felt overwhelmed, they just hid in backroom for a minute watching the shop on cameras. They sold toys, joked with customers and all the time they thought about one thing only.

This will probably bite them in the ass later.

***

Miranda had a plan this time. When she got to Jonathan’s place, she started without proper hello: “I need help.”

“That’s new,” answered Jonathan. She squeezed past him into the living room, put the bag down and turned to him.

“I want to do a little experiment on myself and I need your help.”

“That’s usually what I say,” he commented with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. That’s why you’ll help me, right?” she grinned.

“What do you need?”

“The drugs you gave me the first time around. And your backup.”

Jonathan grimaced thinking. “What are you up to?”

“It’s complicated. I want to take down the charm and I need you to put it back if I collapse.”

“Really?” Jonathan sounded surprised. She couldn’t blame him, she just expected he will be more excited.

“You can make notes, you wanted to rip that thing off since day one. I am sure you want to see this.” Miranda played the science string. She was sure he will jump at the plan immediately, but he kept stalling.

“Why the drugs? What do you want to find out?”

Miranda sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I am not sure if it will work. Please?”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know anyone else. And I think you don’t want me dead.”

Jonathan smiled. “Very well, I will help you with this. But after we are done, I want to know why.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Trust, huh?”

“No. This is for me only.”

She really didn’t want to explain herself. It was complicated, she committed several logical fallacies, and everyone would tell her she is crazy and needs to get hospitalized instead of doing this. But she needed to learn about the shadows. She couldn’t do it herself. Miranda took the charm off before, but the ghosts were faster every time and she didn’t believe she can put it back on in time.

“Fine,” said Jonathan not happy. “Let me get the toxin.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“No, I mean it,” she looked him straight in the eyes. “You do this for me, I’ll do for you anything you ask.”

“Have you thought this through?”

“Of course,” Miranda smiled. She knew offering something was the best strategy to shut him up. And it was win-win situation because she really wanted to know for what he will ask.

Miranda, focus. Ghosts. You can look at the professor later, you horny bitch!

“Yes, ghosts,” she answered to her thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

“Did I say that out loud? Yeah, um. I’m ghost hunting. That’s all. Can we start before I freak out?”

Jonathan left with thinking expression. She messed up. You need to stop talking to yourself, Miranda. You sound craaazy. Your shrink will definitely notice.

She got ready. Jonathan found her looking around the room when he came back with his mask and toxin. He didn’t ask what she is doing. She counted ghosts. Her plan was simple. She wanted to know which ones are real.

“Okay,” she said doing a little jump. “Hit me up.”

Jonathan released the toxin. She made sure not to lose sight of the shadows. She breathed in letting the drug take over. In seconds her head started to spin. The room showed signs of decay, as if it was living organism, the smell got strong. Jonathan stood there, his mask full of worms eating the flesh.

Instead of two ghosts there were four.

“Yes. Good. Just show up, you fuckers,” she mumbled. Four shapes that gave her no emotions whatsoever. Even the room made her more disgusted than this. “I’m gonna do it.”

She heard growling instead of an answer but that was fine. Little nervous she reached behind her neck and opened the necklace. As long as she held it everything was fine.

“Take it,” Miranda said her chest tight. She felt a touch.

It hit her like a truck. For the first time ever, she heard them. She screamed and collapsed in on herself. The screeching was tearing her brain apart. She held her ears, muscles tight, eyes closed. It pulsed throughout the room and her whole body. Painful. Like punching over and over. Eyes started tearing.

“No, no, shut up!” she grinded her teeth. “Stop it!”

Get a grip, woman! Look at them!

Trembling like a child, head light, room pulsing like her heart faster and faster. The shadows surrounded her, all of them. They reached for her, trying to catch her in their deadly grips. Dripping cold and wet.

Some of them just hoovered calmly with no evil aura. Two of them.

Miranda laughed hysterically.

And fainted.

***

Miranda woke up with horrible headache and distaste in her mouth. She needed shower, to brush her teeth, have a drink and vomit. Maybe not in this order. She sat up, the world turned with her.

Don’t puke on his carpet, Miranda!

She didn’t.

Looking around it took her a while to realize where she was. Living room. Couch. Horrible feeling. Hands trembling. Snakes in her stomach.

She held her charm. That calmed her. Breathe in, breathe out. They can’t harm you now. You are in control of yourself. Lock the emotions away. That’s the way. Good job, Miranda.

“You are up. Good.”

She turned, Jonathan stood in the kitchen door, looking at her. Arms folded. He didn’t look happy at all. She probably did puke on his carpet! Damn it, Miranda. Way to make him angry!

“Thanks,” she said. She closed her eyes for a second, the world spun with her. She wasn’t walking out for a minute. “Last time it wasn’t this bad,” she joked.

“It shouldn’t have been. I had to give you something to calm down. The charm didn’t fix your panic attack.”

“It didn’t?” The tremble didn’t stop. She swallowed saliva. It didn’t help?

“Are you planning to tell me what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. I… need to… Excuse me.”

She ran in the bathroom on time. Her stomach clenched rock hard and threw up. She collapsed next to the toiled and breathed.

Better. Much better.

It didn’t help. Jonathan had to calm her.

Fuck! Fuck it!

She pulled herself together. Washed her mouth and face. She felt the tremble getting smaller. Calm down, Miranda. It’s gonna be okay. You’ve dealt with them for over a decade. You can do this.

Jonathan waited for her. She thanked him again feeling a bit awkward. “I didn’t know this will happen.”

“How do you feel?” he ignored her self-bashing. To her surprise he sounded calm and really interested.

“Like shit.”

“Did you find what you wanted?”

“I think so. I need time to figure it out.”

He calmed a bit. “Don’t do this again without supervision.”

She smiled ready to fire back at him but stopped herself. “I don’t plan to.”

“Go home. I’ll call you later.”

“Thanks, Jonathan.”

Whatever care he had in his voice disappeared and he smirked at her. “Don’t thank me, Miranda. Remember – you owe me.”

Oh, she did. But shower and sleep first.

***

They were real.

She will die.

***

Miranda stayed home for two day. This was another reason she hired Terry – she can vail in self-pity for days and the business is still running. She used that time to read about the ritual again but found nothing to help her.

She came around. Accepted her faith.

She is dying.

The ghosts were cancer growing stronger and closer and one day they will devour her body and take her to the afterlife.

Miranda wasn’t ready to die. She didn’t want to. But she ran out of options. Jonathan Crane might help her with emotions but not with ghosts. They were her to deal with and she failed.

Just accept you lost, Miranda. It’s easier than to fight this. It will cause you less pain this way.

Giving up wasn’t on her schedule. But she made a mental note to do it later.

***

Jonathan visited her week after. She had her marbles back – as much as she could. She was happy to see him. It brought her back to reality. There are not only ghosts, there is real world out there. Miranda needed to be reminded of that knowledge. To get back on the ground. Be grounded.

“I didn’t have time to praise your place last time,” he said.

“Thanks. I like making my place comfy. Small things, you know. It makes it feel like home despite me still moving around.”

“I was surprised by your book collection.”

“Oh god.”

“My thoughts exactly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many low-quality chick li and porn at one place.”

“Listen, quality literature is great and all, but I want to turn off my brain sometimes. Don’t judge.”

Jonathan smirked happily. “I will have to lend you better things, so you catch up with my intellect.”

“Wow, that was low blow,” Miranda scoffed. “Leave my flat, you philistine.”

“I was just joking. Also, you are using that word incorrectly. You are the philistine.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she grinned. “But I also don’t think you’ve come to insult my bookshelf.”

“No, I’ve come to collect the debt.” Jonathan said that with calm straight face. Miranda loved that, it made her hairs stand up. She scratched her head a bit.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I will leave that as a surprise.”

“Oh, okay. I have a suggestion.” She felt like a schoolgirl saying this. She never had problem going right to the point, but in this scenario, she felt it’s inappropriate. Jonathan was the one calling the shots. “If you want to hear it that is.”

He did it again. Left her in silence waiting for his answer as if she wasn’t worth the talk. It got under her skin. She was ready to say things anyways, but he finally said: “I’ll allow you to say it.”

Allow? What the hell? No, he didn’t come to insult her bookshelf but her! Damn him and his fucked-up way she liked so much.

She took out a night mask from her drawer and set it on the table. “I thought that if I can’t see you, you will feel better. And you can lead my hands, so I don’t touch something you don’t want.” Also, she won’t see who is in the room with them, but she kept that for herself.

“Do you trust me enough for that? You won’t see what I’ll do.”

“Yes.” Miranda wanted to say more but couldn’t get it off her tongue. It would feel too much like commitment.

“I will think about it,” he said calmly eyeing her. “Interesting suggestion, Miranda. Does that mean you think about me often?”

“No, I…”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he stopped her.

She shuffled on her chair. To the point, so harsh. “Yes, I think about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

Why? What kind of question is that? Why not? She never thought about reasons, just him. Oh, Miranda, don’t be dull. You know exactly what he wants to hear. Indulge him.

“Because you are handsome. And clever. You see right through me. And I like when you order me around. I don’t have to think.” She smiled a bit over the tingle in her stomach. “And you fuck really good.”

He didn’t seem to be phased by any of that. “Do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

She hesitated a bit – for his pleasure – and then took down her sweater and pants. Sitting across to him in her underwear, she let her hands run on her body just to keep him on his toes. It affected him and she knew. His face might not say so, but the way he moved to sit more comfortably did.

“But in my imagination, you always tell me what to do,” she winked at him.

“Are you that uninventive?” Jonathan replied with pleased expression.

She pulled her bra letting her nipples out. She played with them for a bit, rolling her thumbs on them. She sighed here and there. “Maybe I am.”

“No, you need to try harder, Miranda.”

Oh, come on. She really wanted him to tell her. Instead he was stalling again. She was horny and he was making it worse. She would take anything from him. Just one word. No? Fine!

She slowly reached inside her underwear. Her pussy was so wet her fingers slipped inside easily. Jonathan will have to use his imagination. Everything was properly hidden behind her panties. He will have to work for it. She took out her fingers and rubbed her wetness on her clitoris. She smiled looking in his eyes.

Slowly she touched herself. Sometimes slipped in, still played with her nipple. Moaned for him, but she wasn’t planning to finish it. She was teasing him. And herself. Her body was warm, wet and ready and she wanted Jonathan to fuck her. This she could do any other time, alone.

Finally, Jonathan stood up and came to her. “You do not stop,” he warned. He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. Then he kissed her, deep, his tongue found hers. She replied the same. Her fingers still playing with her clit. She moaned to his mouth, he wouldn’t let her go and breathe. He forced that kiss so long and the sensation was mind numbing. When she tried to get away, he just gripped stronger and pulled her in.

He let go after a while. She breathed in, the excitement trembled her body. She couldn’t speak, she was still feeling his tongue inside her and she wished he would hold just a little bit longer.

“I like that idea of yours,” he said, “it will fit nicely with mine.”

She would say something, but he still held her chin so strongly, she couldn’t open her mouth. Did he know how easy it would be to snap her neck now? Was she the only one who realized those things? So much power and he might not even know.

“You keep doing that,” he said. She kept masturbating, slowly, the happy tingle sometimes woke her up from thoughts. She was excited for what he came up with. Maybe she will regret it. She will absolutely regret it.

She just wanted to touch him so bad!

“Last chance,” he whispered to her ear. She shivered.

“You afraid?” she asked.

He scoffed and his expression tightened. “Of you?” he said insulted. “No, you are obedient little girl, you are not scary.” He put the blindfold on her. The world disappeared leaving her only sensation of her body and sounds.

The lack of one sense was deceiving. She thought she knew what was going on for a second and then as she touched herself and few tingles clouded her mind, she got lost. Shaking of her body, wetness and pleasure, those were only things left for her. And occasional sound that could have mean anything.

How long was this going on? She didn’t know. For too long. Where was he? So silent. She bit her lip. Do not call his name. That’s what he wants. That’s why he keeps you waiting, to make you desperate.

Damn him.

“Professor?”

Nothing.

Oh god damn him, she won’t be able to keep this up. She felt the need to fasten the pace of masturbation. To finish it. Woman can only take so much.

And then…

She gasped as she felt fingers run on her neck. Comfortably, slowly. And they were gone.

She tightened in anticipation of next touch. Where? Come on?

Nothing.

She moaned frustrated.

On her leg, he reached for her inner thigh and stopped again.

“Professor, please, I can’t take this,” she begged.

She nearly screamed when he touched her breasts. And stopped. Her stomach. He scars. Cheeks. One after the other, so slowly, and she never knew what will be next. He stopped and she stretched out to him as if she could get more. Always too slow.

The anticipation was worse than any pain in the world. She loved it and hated it. She wanted him to continue and stop and just take her.

“Look at you, so hungry for a touch,” he said silently. “You should be ashamed.”

She wasn’t at all. She could lower herself like this forever.

He finally grabbed her wrists. He was standing over her, he tucked her to sit straight. He kissed tips of her fingers, one by one, and licked her wetness of it. It gave her ideas, reminded her of time she had him deep in her mouth. She wanted that again. To feel him.

He delivered. He led her palm from his mouth to his neck. And then to his chest. Miranda gasped silently. She felt how careful he was. Very stiff. He wasn’t relaxed at all. His grip was strong, as if he was worried she could break free, and do what she wants. Not good.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” she said in hope of calming him down.

“Who allowed you to talk, Miranda?” he hissed.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s second time. Third time I will have to punish you.”

She thought about it. He seemed to loosen the grip a bit, she still had her hand on his chest. She moved her fingers a bit, feeling his skin. So normal. She loved that. But he was still unsure. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

She felt him relax, as if he gave up on her and realized she can’t harm him. And then she felt painful pinch on her breast. She shouted, but he caught her hand before she could cover the place.

“I warned you,” he whispered so close to her she felt her insides tightened. They wished to have him.

She stayed silent.

“Good girl.”

She enjoyed she could touch him. She wished to see his expression. Did he let his guard down? Is he pleased? She wanted to know. She wished he said something. Or gasped. Anything.

Always when it looked like he will want her to touch his penis he avoided it. She let him enjoy the touches. She was patient. It took him long time again, but this time she felt like it was for him, not to boil her in lust.

When he finally let her go, she was silent. She wanted to reach for him, hug him, hold him close and kiss him, but she knew the boundaries.

“You’ve done good, Miranda.” She heard his voice somewhere behind her. “If only you weren’t that obnoxiously loud and touchy.”

Rude. She didn’t say anything.

“I can see you try, but I don’t think you are capable of shutting up. I will help you with that.”

From behind he placed something on her chest and moved it around, so she understood.  He circled a plastic around her nipple. Oh man, was this his thing?

“I’ll be good,” she pleaded.

“Here you go again, talking. Good thing I brought this. Open your mouth.” She hesitated. “Do I have to make you?” he warned her. Miranda surrendered and did what he asked. Jonathan put the gag in and tightened it behind her head. Miranda had trouble to swallow. She will drool like a dog. Breathing was fine.

“That’s better. And now we must do something about those hand of yours. Always touching yourself like some sort of harlot. You aren’t a harlot, are you, Miranda?” he said massaging her boobs.

She moaned and shook her head.

“Good, let me see.”

Something clicked and her hands were restrained behind her back. She was at complete mercy of this man. He could do anything. She let him do that. He could simply turn on her now. The danger was real. It was exciting.

“Miranda, you follow orders so nicely,” he kept playing with her boobs. “I think you deserve a reward.”

He walked in front of her and took down her panties. He didn’t even need to use force to open her legs. She gasped as she felt his fingers on her clit. He rubbed it a bit and she bended her back under the sensation.

“Are you sure you aren’t a harlot?” he said amusement in his voice.

He licked her. She would scream if the gag let her. He focused on her clit and teased it with his tongue. Sucked it, played with it. She moaned silently. He held her thighs open, gripping her strong, she wanted to force him down more. His mouth on her cunt felt so good.

He slipped two fingers inside her. Licked her and moved them. Ate her out and she felt like she will lose her mind any second. The sensation was so strong, so great. Sensitive parts were screaming from pleasure. He wasn’t stopping.

This is it. He wasn’t letting her go. With ever lick she was closer. She wanted to grab him and force him down, but her restrains didn’t let her. Her screams were muffled. Her body was fighting and then with final wave of pleasure it was over.

She trembled, gasped for the air. He caressed her crotch for a while adding to her twitching. She nearly collapsed, all her muscles giving up. God, she loved him. It was so great. She would tell him, but she couldn’t. She would kiss him right there and let him fuck her so he can be just as pleased as he was.

“Look at you,” he said still wetting his hand on her. “Your face is so beautiful like this.”

His voice came to her from far away. She was lost in orgasm land. She didn’t understand what he was saying.

He stopped touching her and stood up.

“Do you know what would make it prettier?” Jonathan asked.

Tired, she shook her head.

“Me.”

Him?

What?

Oh… did he mean… oooh.

She sat straight, waves of pleasure still pulsed in her, but she tried for him not to move much. She bended her head backwards to show her face some more for him.

“Mmm, that’s good. Good girl, Miranda.” She heard him gasp few times. Then he moaned silently. She felt wet and warm sensation on her face. She moaned back to him.

She heard him sit down. Semen was slowly dripping of her face to her breast. She sat still.

“You hold right there. I need to remember this beautiful look.”

She did. This time he didn’t take forever. Soon he came to her and took her gag out. She tasted the semen but before she could say something, he silenced her with deep kiss. Less forceful and more passionate this time. She really felt every emotion he had. She kissed him back.

“Thank you, Miranda,” he whispered almost silently.

She smiled. “My pleasure.”

She wasn’t lying.

Next chapter

#batman #fanfiction #jonathan crane #writing #writeblr #sick raven writing #ghosts of the past

[elichatterarchive]

Dave stumbles into the lab one night, crimson eyes half closed against the lamplight Dirk works by. ‘Saw the door was open. What’re you doing?’

Dirk doesn’t look up, face inches from the wiring that he’s tinkering with. ‘Working.’ 

‘Is that what we’re calling it? Looks to me like you’re obsessing,’ Dave tells him. 

Dirk is almost knocked out by the realisation that he is, in fact, obsessing, and that his younger-older brother is most definitely about to save his ass.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes, quiet in the murky dark. When Dave flicks the lightswitch, Dirk has to glare behind his shades, teeth clenched for the duration of his adjustment. ‘What time is it?’ He grimaces a little harder. ‘What a dumb fucking question. We’re -’

‘-On a meteor, drifting through space,’ Dave finishes, pulling up a chair and sweeping a few pieces of metal out of the way, like they mean nothing (like Dirk hasn’t spent the better part of two days trying to make them mean something). ‘It’s half past go-the-fuck-to-sleep o’clock, dude. It’s a quarter to ‘you look like shit’. It’s-’

‘Bro,’ Dirk says, in a tone that isn’t quite as stoic as usual, and Dave clams up. They have a sweet little groove going at the moment -- ever since they talked things out, they’ve been twisting in tandem, a machine so fuckin’ sick it doesn’t even need oiling. They’re the rhyming words of the sickest bar this side of the apocalypse. They’re either end of a metronome. They’re Striders, for fuck’s sake. 

Dave leans his head on the crook of his elbow, flat on the workbench. He (poorly) stifles a yawn. ‘Seriously, man. How long have you been holed up in here? You’re, like, drenched in shit. It’s nasty as hell. Not in a good way, either, like some mechanic working tirelessly to save his spaceship from the endless caverns of a dead planet. Like, you just look bad.’ 

Dirk takes a look at his grease-stained hands, curses the callouses on them to the old husk of Dave’s Earth and back. ‘A day or two.’

Dave whistles, low. ‘Shit.’

‘It’s not that bad. When I made him the stupid scrumbot, I was up working for almost a week. It was-’

The expression on Dave’s face cuts him off long before his own brain has the sense to. Shit, indeed. He says as much.

‘You’re making Jake something?’

He hadn’t specified, but Dirk supposes he doesn’t need to. The bent and singed scraps in front of him look very ugly in the light. ‘I’m trying to, I think. I keep running out of steam, which is very fucking stupid. You’d think I would know what to do when faced with a room full of robotic parts and pretty much all the fucking time in the world, but, you know something, Dave? I’m stumped. Completely and utterly goddamn stumped. Stumped out of my fucking brains.’ 

There’s a quiet that feels very heavy. Dirk doesn’t look up, and Dave doesn’t move for a long while.

‘You want me to appearify you a coffee?’ Dave asks eventually, and he blinks his huge red eyes like he’s actually bothered about the answer, and Dirk feels very much like he can’t breathe on this meteor anymore, like space is compressing him into a tiny little ball, like all his worst traits are surviving the squash. Fuck. Fuck, this sucks. He’s suddenly very thankful for his shades. 

‘Yeah. Yeah, thanks.’

Dave gets up, pats Dirk’s shoulder a little awkwardly (like he’s worried that Dirk’s going to bite him, or something) (but that’s fair, honestly), and vanishes to acquire two cups of extremely shitty coffee. Good. Every appendage Dirk happens to be able to feel at the moment is shaking at a different frequency. He’s a radio turned to a station of static, buzzing away in his own brain. Almost against his own will, Dirk rests his head against the worktable and closes his eyes. 

When he dozes, he dreams that, somewhere on Derse, a fire is engulfing a forest. He panics until he realises that he is holding a match. 

--

The next morning, Dirk’s coffee is undrinkable. Literally. The film atop the drink has solidified into a kind of gelatinous mass, and Dirk has to kind of fight it out of the cup in order to rinse it out. It’s annoying, and not how he wants to be spending his time, but it makes for an easy life, and he’s found himself craving a little bit of simplicity recently. 

Dave doesn’t mention the previous night, even though it must have been real fucking annoying to force that moronic machine to make two cups of sludge and carry them back before they grew skin only to find the second party snoring like a particularly old walrus, anime glasses askew. Dirk feels a surge of something strong for his fellow Strider, though he doesn’t label it just yet. Neither of them are ready for something like that.

Roxy greets him with a smile he feels somewhere in his hippocampus, sharp and hot. He nods back, has to keep himself from scanning the rest of the faces in the room. Instead, he sits by his friend, steals the first edible thing he sees on her plate and stuffs it into his mouth before she can snatch it back from him. With Roxy, things are certainly more painless than they could be (that is to say, he’s still trying to teach himself to look Jane in the eye. That is to say, Jake is not one of the faces in the room). He can sit shoulder to shoulder with her and across from Rose and know that he’s going to do better today. 

From the doorway, Dave, who’s ushering the Mayor forward by their tiny shoulders, offers an expression that edges on unreadable. Dirk reads it, considers, gives it a five star review on Troll Goodreads and places an order for the sequel. Instead of a totally kickass and not-money-grabbing version two of a brotherly half-smile, the Mayor skitters over and delivers a dusty bottle of orange soda. 

As Dirk twists off the cap, Jake and John join the group. His hands are too occupied to go white knuckled. He’s too busy thinking about building public transport for Can Town to choke on his first mouthful of Fanta. That’s progress.

It’s when he’s ready to go that the paranoia kicks in -- Jake has robbed him of his indifferent exit. If he gets up and leaves now, it’ll seem like he can’t wait to get out of any room Jake has entered. If he hangs around, it’ll look like he’s desperate to linger, like some sort of English-specific creep that gets his rocks off by lurking in the shadows and watching Jake do things. Dirk’s throat starts to close up, the way it does when he doesn’t know what to do. 

He has to stress that this isn’t about Jake, or the fact that he still loves Jake (and probably always will), it’s about the feeling he’s getting in his head -- his entire head, behind his nose and between his teeth and curling through his eye sockets -- the feeling of being pulled apart, losing his grip on something. It’s the feeling he gets when he stops paying attention to his dreamself, but tenfold, twentyfold, fuckzillionfold; he’s somewhere between two places, stuck fast, anchorless. 

He is, in fact, totally fucked. 

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just unsure. It’s a new feeling, and one he’s not fond of at that. 

He stands up. No eyes follow him. His shoulders don’t relax. 

Dirk finds himself en route to the lab. 

--

‘You still in here, Bro?’

‘Yeah. Hey.’ 

Dave pushes open the lab door with a little more uncertainty this time. Dirk doesn’t blame him. It must look to Dave like he’d regressed straight back to making mindfuck-bots after the heart-to-heart that never was.

‘What’re you doing?’

‘Finishing something up. Check this out.’

Dave sits obediently (that rubs Dirk the wrong way, but there’s time for that later), blank expression the perfect canvas on which Dirk gets to throw his latest creation. 

‘It only took me a few hours,’ he hears himself saying, as if he needs to justify doing something he enjoys, ‘so it’s not perfect, but I think it’s pretty cool.’ 

‘Just show me,’ Dave says, and Dirk nods. Right. Showing. 

The small tin train blows a harmless puff of warm air before it starts to worm its way around the track, weaving, silver and snakelike, along the bends Dirk had carved from the shards and scraps of his last effort. 

Dave can’t help but grin as he watches the carriages roll by. ‘Dude, sick.’

Dirk shakes his head. ‘Look in the windows, bro.’ 

‘You’re kidding me,’ Dave breathes, pushing himself out of his seat and kneeling hurriedly by the still-moving train. ‘Shit. Awesome. You even got John’s vacant fuckin’ expression. Wow, who’s that kid sat next to John? He’s hot as Hell, dude. Smokin’ as all the irons after a blacksmith pulls them from the fire with his fuckin’ catcher’s mitt bare ass hands. Hey, who’s that? Must be the cool kid’s ecto-brother. They got similar badass shades on. They’re taking this train to Biznasty City, population three, Mayor one.’ 

‘No, dude, they’re coming from Biznasty City. This is the train to-’

Dave’s mouth drops open, a soft little ‘o’ of surprise. ‘Can Town,’ he breathes, and Dirk nods.

‘You know it.’

‘This is awesome, Bro.’ Dave hovers for a second, and Dirk knows (almost instinctively) that this is where good brothers would hug, but they both seem to baulk at the last second, like wary horses sensing a storm. It’s alright. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Dave grins, effectively waving away the awkward air. ‘You should show everyone else. We’ll move it to Can Town to show the Mayor. The little dude’s gonna straignt up fucking flip.’ 

Dirk nods, lets his brain bounce against his skill a few times. He feels like a car ornament. ‘Yeah. That was the plan.’

‘You should show him.’

‘I know. I will.’

‘In the morning?’

‘Yeah. I think so.’

Dave nods. Now they look like matching car ornaments. ‘Cool. You should get some sleep, Bro. You still kinda look like shit.’

They smile, quiet, tentative. 

‘See ya,’ Dirk says to the back of Dave’s head, and stops the train with a flick of a switch. Once the wheels stop turning, he takes up Dave’s position, squints through the tiny windows at the figurines sat inside the carriage. It’s the best replica he could manage, pieced together from fragments of pictures and logical guesses. The mechanics of the room itself don’t matter all that much. 

What matters is the miniature figurine of himself, sat serenely next to the figurine of a grinning Jake E.nglish. 

For some reason, Jake’s smile had been easy to recall, but almost impossible to recreate. 

The figurines don’t have history. The figurines aren’t even looking at each other. The figurines are vague, yet unconfusing, and, even if they are confusing, Dirk is going to be right here to clarify. Dirk is going to be the one to spread his hands in surrender, ask truce? and act like he could handle a refusal.

His finger lingers on the light switch. 

It’s not nearly enough, but it’s a start. 

Dirk turns off the light, takes himself to bed, and wakes up on Derse to the sound of rain.

#i legally deserve attention for this but the hs fandom is so scary #dirk tag. #dave tag. #long post /

[crowned-ladybug]

Cover of Darkness

God titles are still not a Good Thing huh but turns out actually talking English all day is doing Wonders for my failing language skills. It kills my good ideas bc I’m tired as Shit from all the sightseeing, but writing? Going good!

I’m so happy

_______________

OC blog is @menagerie-of-morons

Setting: Rivals AU

Characters: Jackie, Marvin

Ship: Marvin/Jackie

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: none!

_______________

“Why the Fuck is it so cold?!” Jackie curses to no one but himself, voice hushed as he resorts to talking out loud in his hopelessness, like the walls could hear his frustration and offer him an extra blanket. Which they obivously won’t do, he’s not sure if even Marvin’s magic could make them do that, in all honesty.

Why is it so cold, really? Did the heating break? Does this weird patchwork of a magic house just absorb and distribute heat weirdly and unfairly? Did an ice monster sneak into his room when he wasn’t looking?

The answer is, of course, that with some storms and a cold front rolling in, the temperature has dropped significantly, but he’s still been sleeping in the same clothes and under the same blanket as during a heatwave. He was even foolish enough to leave his window open for a while before going to sleep.

But right now, Jackie doesn’t care about boring things like logic. The only thing he cares about is that he’s Cold and he doesn’t enjoy it one bit.

He runs through his options in his head. He has no idea where the thicker blankets are put away for the summer and he definitely doesn’t feel like going on an expedition at 2 o’clock in the morning. If they’re in the attic, it’s even worse, he doesn’t want to know what the attic is like at night. A warm drink is out of the picture too, it feels like way too much effort right now and it’d only keep him warm for a bit anyway. He last saw the heating pad, which is pretty small anyway, in Anraí’s room, so that’s a no too.

The idea he lands on in the end is a pretty shitty one too, but it’ll have to do – use someone as a space heater. It’s shitty because he doesn’t like waking people up from their comfortable sleep, but…Marvin does owe him one for saving his ass last time they were out on a mission together. He can pay that debt with cuddles.

He wraps his blanket around his shoulders like a cloak and bunches it against his chest from both sides to keep it from dragging on the ground too much. For a moment he considers bringing his pillow too, but decides Marvin’s own giant one and the fact that his head might not wind up on a pillow anyway should suffice. And so, he sets out on his quest for not freezing his toes off while he sleeps.

He hisses through his teeth when his bare feet touch the cold tiles of the corridor outside his room. He tiptoes not because it’d make him any more quiet, but to keep as much of his skin off the tiles as possible. He’d fly, but with how clumsy he is, he’d probably bonk into twenty things on the way and eventually wake the whole house.

He shivers.

He feels like it’s a little excessive, but he can’t really tell his body to just stop doing it. He stills for a moment to let a big one run through him, then moves on.

Marvin’s door is shut but not locked, and this time he gets lucky and the handle doesn’t make any noise. Sometimes it clatters like a menace, and that’d be pretty detrimental to his stealth mission for cuddles right now.

As expected, the room is dark (and the window is closed, sensibly), and Marvin is nothing but a dark lump on the bed. Jackie wouldn’t be able to tell where his head is if it weren’t for his hair splayed out around him, covering most of his pillow and catching the moonlight streaming in from the window.

He wants to run his hands through it.

(He also wonders how Marvin can sleep with the moon shining right on his pillow, no doubt on its way to his face, but that thought is a little less romantic.)

He’d be a fool to hope for a sneaky entrace beyond what he’s managed so far – there’s no way he could worm his way under the blanket and snuggle up without waking Marvin in the process. Maybe if he just wanted to lie down near him he wouldn’t notice the dip in the mattress, but that’d do fuck all for Jackie’s current need for warmth. It however would make for an interesting experiment though to find out how Marvin would react to him having teleported into his bed during the night.

The door slips shut behind him without a sound.

Him sitting on the bed doesn’t wake Marvin. He decides to do this the merciful and polite way anyway, and instead of letting him wake up whenever he accidentally kicks him in the shin trying to get comfortable, he reaches out to shake his shoulder gently.

Then again.

Finally, Marvin stirs, groaning quietly and some of his hair draping over his face as he looks around. His tired, barely open eyes finally find Jackie, and something flashes in them after his brain catches up. He tenses ever so slightly, so subtle Jackie is sure he wouldn’t be able to tell if he didn’t know Marvin like the back of his hand by now. He feels it more than sees it.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, small and reassuring, he hopes. He also hopes the moonlight is bright enough to make his features actually readable. “I was just cold.”

Marvin groans again, this time longer and more dramatic, and rolls back into the position he had been sleeping in. He’s very clearly unhappy with being woken up, now that he knows it wasn’t for an emergency. “And waking me up was your brilliant solution to that, huh?”

Jackie tries to defend himself, though he knows a sleepy Marvin isn’t the best partner for discussions. “Look, I’m tired, I’m not exactly a genius right now!”

“A bastard is what you are,” Marvin mumbles into his pillow.

Jackie scrunches up his nose, pretending to be hurt by that comment. It’s a shame Marvin doesn’t get to see his grimace, truly. “Shut up! I came here to cuddle, not to be insulted.”

“Sure then, go ahead,” Marvin says, voice still slightly slurred from his cheek being pressed into his pillow, but the only movement he makes is a shrug. Jackie’s pretty sure even his eyes are shut at this point.

He bunches up his blanket more on his lap, then starts untangling it and trying to figure out which ends are the shorter ones. He gives Marvin a displeased look as he finally shakes the whole bundle loose and tries to line it up right. “Wow, how cooperative.”

Again, Marvin doesn’t move an inch. “Listen, you got the consent. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna move.”

Jackie just sighs and rolls his eyes. Sometimes Marvin will be complaining and very near begging up a storm, tugging on Jackie until he surrenders himself as a teddy bear to get cuddled and kissed and squished to both their hearts’ content. Other times he’s just a tired, uncooperative lump.

Tonight is, obviously, the latter.

Jackie lies down on the wall side of the bed, kicking Marvin’s blanket out of the way as he goes, not wanting to lie on it and get it stuck and uncomfortable. He needs to get close to get warm anyway. Eventually he manages to worm his way not only under both blankets, but into Marvin’s arms as well.

At least that makes Marvin move finally, curling closer with lazy movements like he’s not even thinking about it, his arm around Jackie settling into a more comfortable position. Jackie stares up at him for a moment, though he doesn’t see much with the moonlight bright behind Marvin’s head, just the messy strands of his hair lit up like a makeshift halo around him. Still, it’s pretty, and maybe even more importantly, familiar.

He stares for a long moment, and he can just about make out Marvin’s closed eyes, lashes dark against his cheeks. Not being seen makes staring a hell of a lot easier.

He feels warmth slowly, lazily creeping under his skin. Not just from the closeness and being under two blankets, no, this is magic, familiar and comforting and belonging to Marvin. An act of concern and protectiveness, stemming from trauma but grown into a comfortable and comforting habit for the both of them.

Jackie inches closer, halting for a moment before he presses his face against Marvin’s neck. It’s warm, it’s sweet and affectionate and just a normal thing that happens during cuddling. He honestly means no malice by it.

So it really surprises him when Marvin tenses and squeaks, jerking away.

“How dare you!” Marvin hisses from a little farther away now, wide eyes gleaming in the moonlight before they narrow accusingly. He’s already worried he woke up the house with his squeaking, so he keeps his voice low, just in case he hasn’t. Jackie doesn’t react, and his tired brain searches hopelessly for whatever he’s done wrong. “Is your face made of ice cubes or something?!”

Oh.

Jackie snorts. “Fuck. I forgot that, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sure you are. Gremlin,” he sinks back into his pillow where he is, which Jackie is honestly quite unhappy about. What happened to the agreed-upon cuddles? “Horrible gremlin, waking me up at fuck off hours in the morning, sneaking into my bed, freezing my neck…”

“I said I’m sorry!” Jackie laughs, trying his best to be quiet. He’d normally consider cutting off the stream of complaints by shoving his cold hands (he’s very much aware of those) under Marvin’s shirt, but now he’s just tired and cold and wants his cuddles as soon as possible.

“Prove it,” Marvin snaps back without hesitation, because challenge and rivalry are just as much in his blood as being a grumpy bitch in the middle of the night is.

Jackie pushes himself up to one elbow, leaning a little closer, and he sighs. “That is the dumbest fucking response you could’ve come up with for this.”

And before Marvin could try to argue, he closes the remaining distance between them (which is really not that much anyway) and kisses him. Well, at first it’s less of a kiss and more of just him smooshing his face against Marvin’s trying to find his lips, but the effort and the intent are there. It doesn’t take him long to get it right anyway, at least not with Marvin recognising that he’s not just being affectionately headbutted and instead cooperating.

And when one of Jackie’s hands finds the back of his head and combs through his hair, he just about melts.

One of the big pros of a sleepy Marvin: it’s pretty easy to un-grump him, if you know how. And Jackie definitely does.

“Fine,” Marvin breathes once they’re done kissing, which doesn’t take that long anyway. He’s definitely too tired to actually be a good kisser right now, and he can’t just let Jackie do all the work. He keeps his eyes shut, because he wouldn’t be able to see fuck all if he opened them anyway, and nudges his head forward until his forehead presses against Jackie’s. “I’ll forgive you.”

Jackie huffs a laugh, and their noses bump together. “Would you cuddle me then already? ‘Cause I’m still cold.”

“Sure. You can be very convincing when you try.”

Jackie laughs, but doesn’t say anything. He pushes himself up to sit with a parting kiss to Marvin’s forehead, which is awfully nice of him, actually. He makes quick work of arranging the blankets over the two of them again, as Marvin watches him work through tired, squinted eyes.

When he sinks back down, he immediately finds his place in Marvin’s arms. And the familiar warmth is there again.

“I won’t do that again tonight, with your neck, I promise,” he hums, smiling in a way that is very obvious in his voice. “Though I gotta say, you probably warmed up my face pretty well.”

Marvin yawns into his pillow. Jackie can feel the way his whole body tenses and relaxes with it.

“I doubt it,” he mumbles, clearly slipping closer to sleep with every word. “Wasn’t my best work, definitely. Gotta try again tomorrow and see.”

“Wow,” Jackie laughs. Marvin has never been as smooth with words as he seems to think (he’s much better at everything else that goes into flirting, really), but his sleepy stumbling is definitely just a whole new level of dorky. Endearing too though, he’s gotta admit.

He settles comfortably for the night, careful to keep his face away from any skin this time.

“Goodnight.”

The arm around his waist flexes for a moment, tugging him a little closer, as if there’s much closer he can be. Marvin sighs, sleepy. “Goodnight, love.”

Love. That’s not a pet name Jackie hears often. Marvin has more to his words than he likes to admit, and one example of that is how he addresses Jackie. Some terms of endearment are common and casual and not always reserved to romantic relations either with him. Others – sweetheart, love, treasure…they mean a lot more. They’re heavier, full of love and honesty. Vulnerable too, in a way, and that’s something Marvin very rarely allows himself to show.

Jackie’s learned to recognise them long ago.

He smiles, knowing not to mention the word but cherish it anyway. He sinks into a comfortable sleep after not long at all, and he doesn’t feel cold for the rest of the night.

#original art #original writing #original character #rivals au #writing #oc: jackie #oc: marvin #marvin/jackie #the whole thing stemmed from my need for soft things #and the thought of rivals!marvin saying 'a bastard is what you are' in response to something aysxdcfvgbfd #this fic was brought to you by: my infinite bag of cousins and cousin-adjacent family members #who are here and speaking a whole lot of english

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Missing Her

A preview of something I’ve been working on...

I wanted to post this full fic tonight, but I gotta go to bed. So, here is a little snippet of a piece I have been working on for @adoptdontshoppets , inspired by the song Missing You by John Waite and the two gifs below. 

*Gifs not mine, credit to owners / Not edited yet, all mistakes are mine.

The phone started ringing for the third time that night. It wasn’t a number you recognized, and they didn’t leave a message which was an instant red flag. The biggest red flag, however, was that it wasn’t the burner phone that Ellen gave you. That was the only one that would ring this time of night, which meant it couldn’t an emergency. It finally stopped after about seven rings, but when it immediately started up again, you were angry. Who the hell would be calling you in the middle of the night, and on the landline no less.

You grabbed the receiver and took a breath before barking into it. “What?!”

Silence.

“Listen, fuckface, if you call here aga—”

“Y/N,” he said, and your heart stopped. That voice was familiar, and not the kind that whips up a nice dose of nostalgia. This was the kind of familiar that makes ice run through your veins and elicits a frenzy of fear of what it could mean.

It couldn’t be.

“Y/N? Its Sam. Sam Winchester.”

Holy shit. Why… why now? It had been years since you last heard his voice. He knew not to call, he promised he wouldn’t. He promised he would leave you be…

“Sam…” you didn’t know what else you could say. Sitting up in your bed, you leaned over and clicked on the lamp. “What, uh, what do you want?”

“It’s Dean. He’s in trouble and… I don’t—” he paused, and you could feel the desperation and weight of his sigh through the receiver, “I wanna tell him. I want YOU to tell him. Maybe… maybe this will be the thing that saves him.”

Your heart stopped and climbed up into your throat. The lump that it formed there felt permanent and you began to panic.

“Tell him? Why? What good would that serve, Sam? No. I can’t—I won’t.”

You slammed down the receiver and exhaled a rush of breath. How fucking dare, he? Fucking Winchesters… running your hands nervously through your hair, you kicked off the covers and began pacing the room, fingers still apprehensively pulling at the tendrils around your face. The last time you talked to one of them, it hadn’t ended well.

“Dean’s in trouble… how the HELL is that my problem? I did what I was asked... played my part, why is Sam calling me now?”

You continued mumbling to yourself, going over the history you shared with the Winchesters. Those damn men, all three of them had turned your life upside down at one point. You missed Dean, though. You didn’t want to send him away, but you had to. Guilt ate at you every day for what you had done, but it was necessary… wasn’t it?

Dean… God I miss him… you thought to yourself like you did more often than not.

You sighed and rested your head against the headboard. Your hand absently went to the empty side of your bed and mindlessly rubbed at the spot where he could have been—SHOULD have been, had John not interfered. You shook your head to rid yourself of John’s face and the way it looked that night he stood on the porch. Pitch black around him, except for the yellowed porch light that illuminated his deeply-rigid scowl. Your stomach was swimming in rough seas, the nausea was intense, and John’s demands were only making it worse.

A brief flashback to happier times entrenched itself in your mind. It was a different house, a different bed, but Dean was there. He had been young, charming as hell and beautiful. The stranger with the green eyes who bore the hands of an angel and the smile of the devil, had somehow wormed his way into your bed and then stayed for a while.

It was the longest you’d ever spent with anyone; same for him, so he said. Sex, late night talks, and midnight drives just for tacos while Zeppelin blared through the speakers… it all came back. You squeezed your eyes tighter when your memory saw him sitting behind the wheel of your old Camaro; smiling as he sang along with radio and sliding his hand up your thigh.

It was a fling that you didn’t think would mean much. Certainly, you never thought it would change your life the way it had. Your heart ached for that time back. Your logically thinking brain was angry at you for even giving Dean Winchester a second thought, but if you were going to be honest, he was always sort of there, wasn’t he?

The phone began ringing again, and when you picked up the receiver, you didn’t bother with the greeting.

“Y/N… please. I know its been a long time and I have no right to ask… but my brother, he—he’s gonna die. And—”

“Wait, what? Sam. What the hell is going on? Is he sick? Or is this… a Winchester thing? If so, what in the world do you think I can do to fix it?”

“He’s not sick and I don’t know if you can do anything. I do know that I have exhausted every possibility, and nothing has worked. You’re my last resort and his time is running out.”

“What did he do?”

“He sold his soul to save me.”

“Jesus,” you lamented and rubbed at your eyes. “How long does he have?”

“A month. We’ve tried everything, but its like, he doesn’t care if he dies. He’s stopped trying. I can’t lose him, Y/N. I thought maybe, if he knew the truth, he’d fight harder.”

“Sam,” you started, then paused. “I don’t…” you sighed and resigned yourself to the fact that if you didn’t try, you’d regret it, along with everything else, for the rest of your life. “Where are you guys?”

“Right now, South Dakota. But we could be there—”

“No. No, you can’t come here. Not yet. Meet halfway, that’s what I can offer you right now.”

“Really? Yes, that would be great,” he cut off quickly and you could hear the rustling of fabric then silence for a good minute before he came back on the line.

“He doesn’t know you called, does he?”

“No. He’d be pissed.”

“What about your father? What does he say about all this?”

“He’s dead.”

You sat up straighter in the bed at the genuine shock of what Sam just said. “John’s dead?”

“Yeah, about two years now. But, look, I know there’s a messed-up history here, and you tend get the crap end of this deal, but if you’re really willing to meet up—”

“I am. Give me a day, I need to take care of a few things. Take down this number, you can get me on there tomorrow and we can pick a place.”

“Y/N, thank you. Um, how… how is…?”

“She’s fine, Sam. Now, get a pen and write this down.”

You gave Sam your cell number and he thanked you for agreeing to come. You hung up quickly after that, not wanting to give him more time to ask more questions about things you didn’t want to talk about.

Once you hung up, you let your body slide back down so your head was on the pillow. Seeing Dean again wasn’t going to be easy. Pretty fucking hard, in fact. You didn’t part ways on good terms, and when he finally walked away from you it was with angry words and more than a few tears. It was unfortunate, but necessary. It didn’t change your feelings for Dean though; not back then and not now.

The next day, you had taken care of the necessary arrangements and loaded up the car with a few necessary items. The cell came to life as you were gassing up and figured it was Sam. Not a call, but a text…

 Branson… tomorrow afternoon? Told him we have a job there.

Yeah ok. Where?

I’ll text you when we get in town

           Ok. See you then.

 Starting up the car, you maneuvered it back onto the highway and put some miles under the wheels. With each one that passed beneath you, you felt your chest tighten a little more at the idea of seeing Dean. When you tried to figure out how to explain everything, you thought you may have to pull over and throw up.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #spn fan fics #preview

[terryblount]

Control Review

What is Control? What makes Control different from other Remedy games? What does it mean to control? Is controlling enjoyable or just another meaningless task. Would you dare to control? Do you like power over others? Do you believe in destiny? Would you attempt to kill yourself for answers or power? Well… Remedy did and they’ve done it gloriously. So did I and so will you. It’s the only way through.

You are a worm though time. The thunder song distorts you. Happiness comes. White pearls, but yellow and red in the eye. Through a mirror, inverted is made right. Leave your insides by the door. Push the fingers through the surface into the wet. You’ve always been the new you. You want this to be true. We stand around while you dream. You can almost hear our words but you forget. This happens more and more now. You gave us the permission in your regulations. We wait in the stains. The word that describes this is redacted. Repeat the word. The name of the sound. It resonates in your house. After the song, time for applause. We build you till nothing remains. The egg cracks and the truth will emerge out of you. You are home. You remind us of home. You’ve taken your boss with your boss with you. All hair must be eaten. Under the conceptual reality behind this reality you must want these waves to drag you away. After the song, time for applause. This cliché is death out of time, breaking the first the second the third the fourth wall, fifth wall, floor; no floor: you fall! How do you say “insane”? Hurts to be happy. An ear worm is a tune you can’t stop humming in a dream: “baby baby baby yeah”. Just plastic. So, safe and nothing to worry about. Ha ha, funny. The last egg breaks now. The hole in your room is a hole in you. You came and we let you in through the hole in you. You have always been here, the only child. A copy of a copy of a copy. Orange peel. The picture is you holding the picture. When you hear this you will know you’re in new you. You want to listen. You want to dream. You want to smile. You want to hurt. You don’t want to be.

Welcome to the Federal Bureau of Control, hold on to your hats, this ride is gonna be nuts!

Story-telling for the Mentally Insane

Before I explain what the hell is going on with the psycho bumble above, let me throw some story over you. You play as Jesse Faden, who visits a building – named “The Oldest House” – of the Federal Bureau of Control (F.B.C.). Soon after your arrival, you find the Bureau director dead with the murder weapon right beside him. Instead of running out of the room in panic, Jesse picks the “service weapon” and attempts to blow her brains out. Instead of the weapon killing her, however, she becomes the director. Just like that Jesse Faden is the newly appointed director of the F.B.C. and all the hanging portraits of the director are swapped with her face.

“They call me the director, but that’s not me.”

Jess after everyone accepts her naturally as the new director.

If you guys played any of Remedy’s games before, you should know how it tends to create complex stories. This time, the story of its latest game even more complicated. Actually… it’s bat shit crazy. My favorite game is probably Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne and, in my opinion, the Max Payne games changed the third-person shooter landscape. Alan Wake was also pretty damn good; I loved its combat mechanics and its story was engaging. As for Quantum Break, there is only one thing to say… “mediocre” (insert Immortal Joe’s voice from Mad Max).

Only in this building an astray can be deadlier than a cigarette. Unless of course Riddick holds that astray.

The SCP Foundation

None of these stories can even scratch the story and lore of Control, which are balls to the wall insane. Control’s story is heavily inspired by the SCP Foundation (Secure, Contain, Protect). If you got some time to spend you should read some of their stuff as they are quite good. Basically “The SCP Foundation is a fictional organization documented by the web-based collaborative-fiction project of the same name”. The amount of stories is crazy and many of these little stories are exceptionally good.

When you are lost in the darkness, look for the light. It will guide you back, probably.

Jesse Faden the New Director of the Nuthouse

Jesse Faden is the only playable character, unfortunately, and let me tell you she is not that interesting. The voice actress is perfectly fine but her performance did not convince me, at all. Jesse has a very basic backstory and nothing in that story is convincing enough to make me believe how cool she is, especially when faced with the unknown scary and insane world she is in. In my opinion, she should be losing her mind from the second she arrived at the Bureau.

“A carousel horse, why kids stuff always so creepy?”

Jess trying to make sense of what the hell she’s actually seeing.

As I said, everything in “The Oldest House” is completely bonkers and Jesse’s behavior seems completely out of place. No sane person would react so logically in a situation like this. Do you remember Alan Wake? That guy was losing his marbles, as he should, in an incident which – compared to Control – feels like a walk in the park. Still, there were some rare and specific occasions when Jesse expressed her feelings by simply saying a “what the fuck”. Unfortunately, these parts are late in the game and also completely optional, so my point still stands.

What?!

Visuals & Controls

In case you don’t already know, I care very little about a game’s visuals. Thankfully John has already posted his performance analysis so I don’t really have to go into more technical details. I’ll just say that the game performs great on my system and that it looks pretty. I do not own an RTX card so I cannot comment on the ray tracing effects. But anyway, I had stable 60fps with everything on high and a couple of options like reflections on medium. I lowered those settings only because the visual difference did not justify the performance hit. Many players have reported several issues with the game, however it appears that I was lucky. The only issues I encountered was a teleport (which is not an obtainable skill) bug and an infinite loading screen, and both of them occurred only once.

Thankfully, the game’s controls were great. Imagine if a game called Control controlled badly. With a bit of remapping it plays wonderfully but why on God’s green earth there is no key for walking? Why oh why Remedy? An area movement restriction in specific locations, where you can bypass it with the sprint key, would be enough. Lastly, it’s unbelievable that there are no settings for motion blur and depth of field. Seriously now?

Hello Kevin! Ha ha ha! Seriously the lighting is amazing.

Audio, Music & Facial Animation

The audio in Control is superb on every level, and all sound effects have been masterfully implemented. Hell, I did not even get the usual audio glitches which I usually get from games by using earphones. The in-game music is minimal as you can only listen to music through radios or in a very specific room. There is only one scripted sequence with music and all the rest is ambient sounds with some very basic music tracks during fights. The voice acting is pretty good; not great, but good enough. Most of the voice actors are pretty convincing with some exceptions. One of these exception is Jesse; I really don’t like Jesse as I explained before. I like the facial animations overall but there were some dialogues, especially at the beginning, that didn’t impress me. On the other hand, Remedy emphasized Jesse’s lip movement to stand out, which looked really nice.

The Heart of the Game

The gameplay in Control is so – god – damn – good. Seriously, these kind of games are very rare these days. The only ones that come to my mind are Second Sight and, of course, Star Wars: The Force Unleashed. Those games did psychic powers justice but they got nothing on Control. Control is all about the gameplay, as all games should.

Is that an 8inch floppy disk? God damn I’m old. In case you didn’t know all videos in game are live-action. That’s how you utilize live-action footage. Do you hear me Quantum Break?

Mental Abilities & Destruction

You start with some basic abilities and along the way you get more and more (obviously by completing missions). There are several psychic abilities and some of them have secondary functions. The game features five such abilities; telekinesis, mind control, barrier (shield), melee (force push) and levitation. For example you can unlock an ability that lets you control two minds at the same time or move larger object like forklifts. You can literally grab and throw almost everything you see in the environment and even if there is nothing around you can still rip a concrete junk from the environment and throw it to someone’s face. It is so much fun. Now if I had to choose one power, that would be levitation. I loved levitating above the battlefield and raining destruction upon my enemies; it felt so satisfying. There is also a dash/evade ability (no roll thank god) but, sadly, it is not upgradable.

“Quack if you understand my words.”

Random Bureau agent contacting an interview with a subject.

Now regarding destruction… holy crap, it’s phenomenal. These might be the best destruction mechanics I have ever seen in a single player game. You can literally destroy almost everything and most destroyed objects stay there until you leave the area (something you rarely see in other games). Unfortunately, the bodies do disappear, however they disappear in a cool way. They do not vanish in a lame way as in other games, like Mass Effect: Andromeda for example. The bodies, kind of, evaporate and there is a believable reason behind that phenomenon. To be honest, I’d prefer if they stayed because without them you lose the feeling of success. At least the destroyed environments are still there to remind you what just happened.

Almost everything you break, stays broken. Even when you rip pieces from the floor.

Something I really loved in Control was dashing and watching everything around Jess getting pushed or destroyed by the “movement force“. When you hold an object with telekinesis you can see little pieces of the environment getting pulled in by the telekinesis force, which is super cool. Same goes for when levitating close to objects or structures.

The “Service Weapon”

Regarding the game’s arsenal, there is only one weapon and it is kinda of overkill since Jesse is already a weapon of annihilation. The “Service Weapon”, as it is called, is an Item of Power. These Items can only be used by specific individuals, like the director of the Bureau. Any other person who attempts to interact with such an item will most probably seize to exist in an instant. In the beginning, the weapon acts as a revolver. As you progress, though, you can give it other weapon forms with different characteristics.

“Yes yes, easy peasy!”

Ahti the janitor before sending Jess to lift the lock-down.

Just like the upgradable powers, the Service Weapon has five different forms; revolver, shotgun, machine gun, rifle and grenade launcher. While I tried all of them, I eventually settled on the machine gun and shotgun. Like I said, all of these are upgradable through weapon modifications and by crafting better versions of them. As such, the grenade launcher – for example – can be modified to have larger blast radius for instance. All mods have rarity levels and can be found in the game world. You can also craft mods but they are very expensive in rare resources and the same resources are used for upgrading the weapons.

Shooting Mechanics, Movement & Cover

If there is shooting involved, I always prefer playing in FPP (first person perspective). I am not a great fan of third person shooters, unless of course they are actually good. Thankfully, Control excels on this area, especially when there is no cover and the game pushes you to move around. All guns feel great and unique in terms of handling. If there was something I did not like, it was the shoulder swap; it’s different than what other games do and, unfortunately, it’s not that good. Still, and since this is not a slow paced shooter, I rarely used. And while there isn’t any cover system, you can still take cover and crouch behind things (you cannot “hug” a wall like Gears of War though).

I’ll give this guy the silver medal for his death expression, the gold was given to the guy with the busted radio in Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Standing still is not advisable, something that is also hinted during the loading screen tips. Enemies will rush you and they will use explosives in order to make you leg it. Of course you can play the game as you please. Personally, I used every tool in my disposal and tried to mix different powers which sometimes left me astound. The flow of the combat is amazing as you can shoot an enemy, dash and melee him, levitate and power slam to another, throw a forklift to someone else and use the shield to get some distance while you regain energy. All of these feel natural and blend in amazingly. Hats off to the people responsible for this combat system.

Perfect Balance with No Restrictions

Control does not have any ammunition for your weapon. Instead, every type of weapon has a fixed number of shots. The weapon recharges while not in use and if you use all shots there a slight time penalty (reloading). Same goes for your powers; there is only an energy gauge and nothing more. Just like the weapons, the energy bar replenishes while not using them and there is also a time penalty for using all your energy. The game is forcing you (in a good way) to use both your powers and weapons, without making it impossible to do as you please.

This is how the area map looks like. It can be confusing at the beginning, but you can open it while on the move.

Location (s), Exploration & Collectibles

There is only one location, “The Oldest House”. From start to finish you will be confined in that building. Of course this building is gigantic and you will venture into many different areas, where in many of them the rules of physics make no sense whatsoever. This might make the game a bit monotonous for some people but I did not mind that at all.

“I never liked flamingos, too..pink.”

Jess before facing the..latest pink epidemic

Exploring the federal building is fun and rewarding, even if the game never forces you to do so. There are tons of stuff to find and many of these are cleverly hidden away. There are even hidden places filled with easter eggs. You can find many collectibles that will give you a better insight into the game’s lore and you should probably read these if you want to understand what is going on. After all, the story is not straight forward and can be very complicated at times. Quite frankly these might be some of the most interesting collectibles I have ever read. I usually don’t like reading stuff when playing a game as I prefer something like audio logs. However, all it takes in Control is to read a couple of the documents; after that you will probably be hooked.

Side Missions, Enemies & A.I.

There are three types of side missions: missions given by specific characters, missions found by picking collectibles and ­time based missions with a random objective. None of these missions are mandatory; most of these missions are pretty basic, however, they give you the chance to obtain valuable resources. I did them all just because I couldn’t get enough of the combat. Now if you don’t fancy that, you can simply rush forward and only do the main missions. If you choose not to complete some of the side missions you might lose some important stuff. Some of these missions even hide a boss battle and believe me you will want to meet these “bosses”.

This is probably the creepiest thing I ever seen in a video game lately. Seriously it gave me goosebumps again while I was typing this. By the way this video was meant for children.

Speaking of bosses there are not many; if I remember correctly you only face one true boss in the main story but I do not want to give more details as we’ll be entering a “spoilers” area. The regular enemy (HISS) variation is not bad, but it could definitely be better. There is even one enemy who I did not manage to destroy no matter how hard I tried.

“Do you feel it? Something is coming.”

Jess getting the “feeling” while she walk into a dark corridor.

Remember that paranoid second paragraph of the review? Well, there are people floating all over the place, chanting that incantation all the frigging time. And I loved it. If you shoot they will stop for a second. If you shoot them, they will disappear but they will eventually re-appear. Whoever thought of that has my respect, because it changes the perspective and feeling of each room.

It think I run into Criss Angel’s family.

Unfortunately, the A.I. is nothing special. You can lure enemies in a corridor or you can bait them through corners. The A.I. is designed to challenge you when you are on the move. When things work as intended, the combat feels great. Still, the A. I. could be way more advanced than what we got.

Control

I will be honest; I adored this game even though it is not perfect. Jesse is totally unlikeable… at least until the very end. The voice acting is not always great and the facial animations of Jesse lack emotion, especially you compare them to Emily’s (except the first time you meet her; she is a bit creepy and not the good kind of creepy).

This is Emily and we really like her. We wish we could play her instead of Jesse.

The map is very Metroidvania and may not be very accessible to people that are not familiar with these type of games. There is also backtracking and I know that some of you hate that. Still, the good news here is that there is a fast travel mechanic. Moreover, you cannot manually save as the game saves automatically and every time you die you have to start over from the last checkpoint, which might be troublesome for some players. Lastly there is no difficulty levels and the game can be a bit hard at some points, especially if you haven’t upgraded your powers and weapons. On a side note, I would really love if they added a new game+ mode with increased difficulty in a future patch.

“Finally! No more quacking.”

Jess after she’s done with..it.

There are several things I did not fully explain or even mentioned in this review in order to avoid spoilers. There are many parts of the game that will probably surprise you or even leave you speechless, so I don’t want to take that away from you.

I also don’t know if you guys watched the promotional videos of the game but most gameplay videos did not represent the actual quality of the final game. My initial thought before playing the game was “god damn it this is gonna suck”. However, I am glad I was wrong because Control might be the best Remedy game to date.

Awesome weapon designs

Hundreds of collectables

Fitting music and sounds

Memorable boss battles

Superb psychic powers

Fluent combat system

Destruction & physics

Hours of exploration

Great performance

Compelling story

Interesting lore

Level design

Unlikable Protagonist

No difficulty setting

Some backtracking

No manual save

Map design

Exclusivity

                Computer Specs: CPU: i5 4440, GPU: Palit 1660Ti OC 6GB, RAM: G.Skill Ripjaws X 16GB HDD: Crucial 275GB MX300, OS: Win7, 1080p

Playtime: 20+ hours total. That’s a guess by the way, since Epic’s launcher has no timer.

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