#It Is Hopelessness ;; Scourge

[fstbmp-a]

"Aw, squirt's usin' the form he openly admitted he lost already in. Ain't that precious?"

#It is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #Feel the Sunshine ;; Dash Comm #crystal is highly amused by this development even if she'd lose this straight fight

[cynicallyscorned]

^ clown shaped who crushes hard when he crushes

#🚫 — this is only a minor threat. ❪ ooc. ❫ #he's.. hopeless when he has a crush lmfao #mega tsundere abt it #sonic. scourge. surge. shadow. amy. he's normal about all of them dhfjdk

[deansmultitudes]

Why is there no good way of sharing my silly little music taste with my friends who live in my phone? 😭

#spotify is hopeless obviously #yt ads are the scourge of humanity #even if it is on soundcloud it's prob not available outside of us #bandcamp apparently only lets you play a song like thrice without buying #anything that requires clicking through to another website sucks ass #I know no one cares about my music taste #but I WILL promote we shot the moon any chance I get #but I don't get the chance 😔

[ahrencmeptn-aa]

Also, a certain post reminded me to bring up: I don’t follow all the stuff Scourge did in canon to a T because... some of the stuff he did and was IMPLIED to have done is genuinely really fucked up and

While that’s. I can’t say fine but you know bad people may do bad things I’m not really comfy with it and, frankly, it wasn’t even needed in the story anyways it was just some really gross shit that was added for no reason whatsoever.

#Quiet Now Quiet Now ;; OOC #It Is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #How Can I Remember ;; Scourge HCs/About #i guess? that gets the tag sure. #but yeah no uh no... we're just gonna ignore the WEIRD AS ALL FUCK stuff from the arc/hie stuff because #hm. HM. questionable things on display there.

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

@fstbmp asked: 🔥 Crystal and Olympia both sitting there batting their eyelashes at Scourge.

Send “🔥?” and my muse will admit whether they find your muse attractive or not.

"...look you think I'd be anywhere near Queenie if it wasn't for her bein' drop-dead gorgeous?" Emphasis on the "drop-dead" part.

"And... look, e-everyone already knows Oly's fuckin' stunning, I don't why I gotta specifically, like, tell ya that...."

#fstbmp #{scourge; ic}「scourge sez」 #{ask answered}「we’re conducting business here」 #olympia simp confirmed #she literally does d.bz shit all the time ofc between that and her looks junior's hopeless

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Hello hello! I hope everything has been going well for you. I had a prompt idea pop into my head, and rushed to type this out before i forgot lol. Anyway, I was wondering if you could write Sonic having a nightmare and/or suffering from the aftermath of one and Scourge helps him through it? Or the other way around, if that speaks more to your muse. I just really want to see these two learn to be more vulnerable around each other, and there is little doubt in my mind that these two have issues and really need a hug. Have a good week!

Omg how did you know I love writing about characters having nightmares... how did you know...

~~~

One of the downsides of travelling with someone was the lack of privacy options during the night. Sonic had grown to tolerate travelling with other people - although the slower speed always got on his nerves, no matter how necessary it was - but he'd never liked sharing his sleeping space with them. On bad days he was quick to awake at some of the most minor sounds, and being stuck with several other people shifting and mumbling in their sleep or getting up in the middle of the night for some water was a terrible thing to combine with that.

And on worse days, well. Even the thought of waking someone up because his stupid brain gave him a bad dream made his skin crawl.

It wasn't that he thought sleeping around someone was a show of vulnerability. Having a nightmare in front of someone, though? That was a completely different story.

Thankfully, nightmares weren't common for him, and the rest of the Freedom Fighters knew to keep their mouths shut and not bring it up if they ever caught him having one. It was the least he was owed after saving the world's ass time and time again. Occasionally Amy or Tails tried to make him, eurgh, open up about them, but for the most part he was left alone, and they were never brought up while travelling.

Still, despite learning to tolerate travelling with other people, he couldn't help but mentally cheer whenever he could do so alone at his own pace. So getting a new mission that required speed and small numbers, and thus no group of slower friends holding him back? A blessing he was long overdue.

Well, sort of. He wasn't travelling alone, but it was Scourge who was tagging along, and the good thing about travelling with Scourge was the slower speed thing was no longer a problem.

The bad thing was he had no idea if Scourge would keep his mouth shut on the off chance of a nightmare arising.

So when they settled down for the night, was it really any wonder Sonic volunteered to take watch?

With a sigh Sonic rolled his neck for the third time that night. Just because he'd chosen to take watch didn't mean he liked it. Honestly, he was tempted to lie back and get some rest. Not sleep, he'd be just awake enough to spring into action if anything happened, as unlikely as that was, but just doze a little to rest his eyes and energy.

Maybe it was dumb to offer to take watch in the first place. They'd chosen a spot secluded enough that they wouldn't be easily spotted by any of Robotnik's troops, and fear for their safety wasn't even really a concern in the first place when he'd pitched the idea, although he'd tried to make it seem like it was, and brushed off Scourge's call of "bullshit" with a comment about being the more experienced Freedom Fighter, and thus the one more equipped to decide what was and wasn't safe, so shut the fuck up.

Scourge had rolled his eyes but reluctantly backed down, muttering about being too tired to deal with his "paranoid bullshit." The fucking hypocrisy.

No, safety wasn't his concern at all. His concern was that stupid, stupid nagging voice in the back of his mind hissing "but what if tonight's a bad night?" over and over, even though there was no fucking reason to believe it would be other than having gone several months without one.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Scourge. He did, against his better judgement. Somehow the fungus fucker had gradually kicked in the hesitations he had about lookalikes and became a trustworthy ally on the battlefield and a surprisingly hilarious friend. He was cunning and a jackass who didn't whinge about Sonic's attitude (usually) and a fierce fighter who didn't give a shit about the "morals" of fighting dirty, an attitude the Freedom Fighters desperately needed. "Clean" fighting was a nice sentiment, but just not practical in a lot of situations, and Sonic couldn't say he cared too much about Scourge's dirty tactics. Rather their side than the enemy's, after all.

Against all odds and previous bad experiences with lookalikes, Sonic trusted Scourge with his life.

With his nightmares, though? That wasn't something he was ready to expose to him yet. Not even out of fear he'd be seen as weaker or less capable for them, or out of worry they'd be used against him somehow, which was the reason he kept them hidden from everyone except close friends. It was just... a lot.

Better to just not sleep in front of him and avoid the risk entirely.

Ugh, now he remembered why he never bothered with this "taking watch" shit. He was always more likely to overthink about dumb shit if he had the whole night to himself doing nothing but sitting and watching without something or someone to keep him entertained and distracted.

Cracking his neck, Sonic settled back against the rock he was leaning against. It was a quiet night, no midnight adventurers or obnoxiously loud birds or bugs, not even any wind ruffling the leaves on the trees. Peaceful, just like the nights he remembered from when he was younger, before Robotnik came to be. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was back to those days, lounging on his back and stargazing on the roof of Kintobor's old laboratory.

One day. One day they'd beat Robotnik for good and he'd be able to have as many peaceful nights as he wanted; not every night, that would be way too boring, but some nights. Depending on how much action he wanted. Any fights he got involved in would be on his terms, not tethered to stopping every scheme he stumbled across regardless of if he was in the mood for fighting or not.

His eyes fell on Scourge, who was sleeping a couple of metres away, lying on his stomach with his face buried in his elbow.

He hoped Scourge would stick around to see those nights, too. He'd probably get bored of them, even quicker than Sonic would, but that was fine. He would provide good company for the nights Sonic didn't want to sit around and spend the night in peace. He was always up for finding something fun to do no matter the time of day, something his other friends just weren't down for, and it would be fun to run around looking for ass to kick together without having to worry about a threat as huge as Robotnik looming over them.

With his eyes on Scourge it was impossible to miss the stuttered hitch in breath even if he wanted to.

There was no threat, nothing to be worked up over, a simple shift in someone else's breathing pattern was all that had changed, but somehow Sonic found himself on full alert anyway. He sat up, staring intently at Scourge, cataloguing every little twitch just in case something was wrong. Scourge's breathing grew heavy, his face screwed up, his hands balled into fists as he made a pitiful attempt to curl in on himself. A shuddering inhale, a flinch accompanied by a... not a whine, or a whimper, but some kind of noise that was definitely unpleasant-

Oh.

He hadn't considered the possibility of Scourge having a nightmare.

Sonic was torn between watching in case the nightmare escalated and made Scourge hurt himself or looking away in some kind of attempt to respect Scourge's privacy. He'd never been on this end of the situation before and he had no clue what to do. Should he wake him up? Leave him be? Stay sat down and pretend he hadn't noticed anything, or leave and come back when Scourge woke up, pretending he had something to deal with and conveniently missed the whole thing?

Fuck, he wasn't good at shit like this. That was what the rest of the Freedom Fighters were for. He didn't even know if he hated or was grateful for being woken up from his own damn nightmares, how was he supposed to know what Scourge would want?

For an entire minute he sat and stared helplessly at Scourge, frozen in place despite the urge to just shake him awake. He didn't want Scourge to continue whatever awful dream he was having, but he also didn't fancy getting punched in the face, which was a very likely option even when Scourge was awake, never mind half asleep and still pumped full of adrenaline.

Finally, though, Scourge jerked awake with a strangled gasp, still for only a moment as he refamiliarised himself with his surroundings before he pushed himself up on shaky arms, still panting.

Sonic averted his eyes just as Scourge's landed on him.

He half expected Scourge to call him out for sitting and watching him during his nightmare; he sure as fuck wasn't shy about calling him out for anything else. But surprisingly, he didn't. He just kept staring at him in silence, wrestling his breathing back under control as his gaze drilled holes into Sonic's head. Sonic didn't turn to look at him, just stared straight ahead like he was very dedicated to his self assigned role and hadn't been contemplating dozing off for the past twenty minutes.

"You still up?" Scourge said at last.

"That's what someone who keeps watch does, yes."

"You don't stay awake when you keep watch. You, like, half sleep, half keep watch."

Damn. When did he notice that?

"I'm not tired yet."

"Bullshit, but whatever."

Neither of them spoke again for several minutes. Scourge sat up against the rock, drumming his fingers against his knee to a beat Sonic couldn't follow, and joined Sonic in staring straight ahead pretending to scan for threats they both knew damn well weren't coming.

Was Sonic supposed to ask him about it? Pry into the details of the nightmare? For what? Just to seem like a good friend? Fuck, this stuff had never made sense to him. Emotions were a battlefield he was... less than prepared for at the best of times, and for more delicate shit like this, he was far from the first choice for assistance, and he wanted to keep it like that. One wrong step just made things worse for everybody, but the right step changed from person to person, and how the fuck was Sonic supposed to magically know what the correct steps and words for each person were? Fighting robots or the moronic minions Robotnik had somehow managed to recruit was so much easier in comparison.

Again, there was a reason the other Freedom Fighters handled all the emotional shit. And why Amy frequently scolded him for being insensitive.

But the other Freedom Fighters weren't there. It was just Sonic. And as much as he hated dealing with situations like this, he also didn't want Scourge to be fucked off and upset.

But he also didn't want to make Scourge feel like he had to talk if he didn't want to.

"I don't want to talk about it," Scourge said suddenly before Sonic could come to a decision on if he should say something or not.

Well. That made it easier than just blindly guessing.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Scourge squinted at him. "You're not gonna... try and make me talk about it? Encourage me to open up about my feelings?"

"Nope."

"Not gonna stick your hero nose where it don't belong?"

"I never stick my nose-"

"Yeah you do. That's, like, your whole thing. You wouldn't run around saving people if you always minded your own business."

... Damn it, he was kind of right, wasn't he?

"Look," Sonic said, still not looking over, "do you want to talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Then we won't."

Scourge huffed. Out of the corner of his eye, Sonic could see him fiddling with the zip on his jacket.

"... Why? Why aren't you pushing?"

Oh boy, honesty hours. Yay.

He could just brush it off. Say he didn't care, he had better things to do with his time, hearing about it wouldn't change anything because there was nothing he could do to help. He could just be the dick he knew Scourge probably expected him to be.

... Fuck, but he didn't want to.

"I hate it when people try to make me talk about shit I don't wanna talk about," Sonic said. It sounded more like an admittance from how quiet it was, like it was a dirty little secret he was sharing with Scourge and Scourge only. Which it wasn't, he made it perfectly clear that he hated being forced to talk about shit every time someone tried to make him, but... but it was different, somehow, saying it to Scourge under the quiet blanket of the night. "If you don't wanna talk about it, I'm the last guy who's gonna make you."

"... Huh. Everyone just always tells me to talk about shit 'cause apparently it'll make me feel better."

"Yeah." Sonic turned his gaze back up to the sky. "I hear that a lot, too."

They lapsed back into silence, or at least, as silent as it could be with Scourge fidgeting with his jacket. Sonic wanted to say it was a peaceful silence, but the conversation somehow didn't feel... done.

Sure enough, eventually Scourge piped back up, voice so much smaller and... less guarded, somehow, as he said, "You're really not gonna make me talk about it?"

Sonic paused. Tapped his leg as he thought over all the possible answers. He could just keep up the reassurance, or...

Amy kept telling him he was unapproachable and difficult to talk to sometimes, and kept nagging him to work on it. Normally he didn't care because he wouldn't know what to say anyway, but he was the only one around, and if Scourge needed it...

"If you want to talk, you can," Sonic said slowly, hoping he was doing this right. "I'm not... I can't tell you I'll say anything helpful, or anything at all, 'cause we both know I'm shit at this. But I can listen."

Scourge was silent.

"I'm not saying you should, or that you have to. I'm just saying, if you want to talk, talk. If you don't, don't. Up to you, I don't care either way." Fuck, that was rude. Oh well. Scourge was fluent in rude, so it was probably fine. "Just... do whatever helps."

There. That was the best he could do in terms of support. Happy, Amy?

Scourge stayed silent for a few more seconds. Then...

"It... it was about prison." The words were halting, hesitant. Like Scourge didn't know how this worked either. Like he was trying something new with Sonic. "Nothing... fuck, it wasn't even coherent. Just random shit I thought I'd forgotten about. Stupid inmates I can't even remember the names of anymore, acting like they're hot shit just 'cause they're bigger and stronger and have a whole gang..."

Scourge trailed off, voice shaky. When Sonic turned to look at him, he was running a hand through his quills like he was reassuring himself they were still there.

They used to be shorter when he first arrived, Sonic remembered. Shorter and choppy and just barely long or sharp enough for self defence.

"Guards did nothing, y'know? They didn't care. We was just a bunch of troublemakers who got what was coming to us to them. So they just let fucking anything happen. Didn't give a shit who got hurt or who started fights or who got their shit stolen. Fuck, they kept going on about rehabilitation like it was something they gave a fuck about, but they wouldn't've even cared if someone got killed in there-"

Scourge was shaking, fist buried in his quills and tugging on them as he stared at the ground, face scrunched up in rage.

Sonic hated it. He hated that look on Scourge's face. He hated that there was something much more fragile, much more vulnerable, hidden away under that rage. He hated that there was nothing he could do to make it go away.

Wordlessly, he shifted closer until his arm brushed against Scourge's.

"Just... it was shit." Scourge's head landed on his shoulder. Sonic didn't mention it. "It was shit and I fucking hated every minute of it. That's what it was about."

Sonic hummed. He didn't have anything to say in response, because what was there to be said? But Scourge was already relaxing against his shoulder, so he probably didn't need to.

Instead, he just linked his arm with Scourge's.

This time the silence between them was comfortable. Scourge was done, Sonic was done, they were both done, no more words required. Scourge was still leaning on Sonic, and apparently neither of them saw any reason for him to move, because Sonic didn't push him away and Scourge didn't bother pulling away.

It was nice. The night wasn't cold but Scourge was warm, and it was easy to relax with him leaning on him.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for Scourge to fall asleep. Well. No point in moving him, was there? Sonic was already perfectly comfortable, and he didn't need to worry about waking up with a crick in his neck from an awkward sleeping position since he needed to stay awake anyway. He was on watch after all.

By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, Sonic was slumped over Scourge, cheek smushed against his head, fast asleep.

It just didn't feel like a risk anymore.

#sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #fleetway sonic #stc sonic #fleet!sonourge #asks #fanfic #sorry this took so long! writers block is a bitch lol #fr though i've literally been thinking about how badly i wanna write a nightmare fic for these two... you read my MIND... #damn sonic where'd you get all these issues from #man really said 'idk shit about how to handle emotions. I'll try tho. for you.' #no one else znvxnvxng if u told any of his friends sonic tried to be emotionally supportive to scourge they'd laugh in your face #and he sure as SHIT still won't touch his own messy emotions with a ten foot pole #congratulations scourge you've unlocked achievement: future boyfriend willing to fall asleep around you #like good luck trying to get him to talk about his own nightmares in the future. bc he won't. even though he probably should #scourge on the other hand is like 'fuck it. we're already trying hero shit. might as well try this talking thing everyone talks about' #'(only with you though. bc somehow i trust the emotionally stunted bastard the most with this shit)' #U know it's a fun pairing when somehow SCOURGE is the one doing better with the whole emotions thing #not by much. but still. #bc lbr. sonic ain't got a fucking clue. absolutely hopeless #anyways sorry again this took forever! hope you enjoy!

[sethcertified]

「 SLOW DANCE ! 」 . . . 📂

supernatural : sam winchester

wrd count : 2.1k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . slow dancing was always a fantasy for you. that fantasy comes true when sam decides to confess his feelings

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . sam winchester & male reader

Being a hopeless romantic was hard. Being a hopeless romantic in love with your best friend was harder.

You sat in the, surprisingly, comfortable hotel bed that you and the boys had rented for the night before you guys went back on the road; hunting the next monster that tainted the innocence left on the world. Your attention laid fixated on the book in hand; eyes scourging the words on the page, soaking in each and every detail. It was a romance book. In fact, a favorite of yours since high school.

The book was the perfect embodiment of what you desired in a relationship. The love interest was your ideal type of man; describing a certain man you knew to a T. He was tall, gentle, nerdy, and loving in the most comforting way. Was it really just a coincidence that he shared a striking semblance to Sam? For you, no.

You were in love with Sam Winchester. You had been for years. He was, in your mind, the perfect man. But he was also your best friend, and that was something you did not want to compromise. It hurt to hold in your feelings for someone you spent almost every hour with. Especially when you had been concealing those very same feelings for years.

As a way to cope with these feelings, you delved into the romance novel world even more than you already had been in the past; which was still quite a lot. It gave you an outlet for the feelings that had been building up for years. An outlet for you to imagine that maybe in a different world Sam would be yours. A world in which you could hold hands and kiss and cuddle with Sam.

Even your more abstract fantasies could come true in your head. Slow dancing with Sam was a particular favorite. A ditzy smile plastered against your face as the image took place in your mind. Your bodies just mere inches a part from each other; Sam’s breathing fanning your face, his hands engulfing yours in a firm but gentle hold, his eyes never straying away from yours as the two of you danced to the most beautiful of songs. It was a dream.

Sam knew of this dream, unbeknownst to you. He had “accidentally” read a page out of one of your journals that was dedicated to your fantasies that you left out. Journaling was a way for you to write out whatever scenario was plaguing your mind on the lines sheets of paper, and as much as you daydreamed about slow dancing with the love of your life; the more that dream came true on paper.

Sam bit his lip nervously as he tried his very hardest to remember the scene you had written about. He wanted to recreate it down to the most minuscule of details, and now that the hotel lobby was decorated, the minuscule details were all that was left. He wanted this to be perfect even it it meant the most obscure details were included. You deserved perfection.

Dean watched Sam with concerned eyes and crossed arms. Sam was an over thinker, and he was letting his head get the best of him once again. Dean knew this better than anyone. He was Sam’s older brother, after all.

“Don’t overthink it, man. He’s going to love it,” Dean patted Sam on the shoulder with a tight-lipped smile. Sam returned the smile with a wary look in his dark, chocolate eyes, “Yeah, yeah. You're right. It's just,” his eyes scanned the room with anxiety, “it has to be perfect for him.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief as chuckles poured out of his lips, “Look at this place! Any girl,” Dean coughed as he corrected himself, “In your case, guy, would fall for you in a second.” Sam nerves began to fall away at Dean’s word, “And how do you know? You have never put this much effort into a relationship; let alone asking someone out.”

“With my looks, I don’t have to,” Dean jested.

Sam pushed Dean with his shoulder as he left out a playful, “Shut up!” His mood had done a 360, and he was finally ready for you to come down from the room. Sam took a shaky inhale as he turned to Dean, gesturing to his clothes, “And I look good, right? I-I don’t usually dress like this.”

Sam had dawned a sleek, midnight black suit. It was virtually flawless with its lack of wrinkles and the way it fit snug around the giant of a man’s body. His hands dug into the pockets of the dress pants he wore paired with a smooth, leather belt. His black, button down shirt was tucked into his pants causing small cracks to form at the border between shirt and belt. The buttons along the shirt were white; the only aspect of his outfit that wasn’t black making them catch your eyes immediately. A blazer covered the shirt, making his broad shoulder even larger. It fit him perfectly as if it was almost tailored just for him. Bottom line, he looked good.

But what kind of brother tells you that? Dean shot Sam a snarky, “Couldn’t have laid a bit back on the all black?” before he elbowed Sam playfully, “I don’t know how many times I have to say it. You look good. Now, go get ‘em, tiger.”

Dean began to walk off with a light feeling in his chest. It hadn’t been long since Jessica’s death, and Sam probably still wasn’t completely over with his survivor’s guilt and all, but a beginning with someone new, someone good like you, it gave Dean peace of mind. Sam needed a good guy like you in his life, and Dean was happy to be apart of the effort into pushing you two together. His fist knocked on the door to the hotel room you guys had rented alerting you.

“Dean? You’re back!” You shot Dean a happy smile before your eyes scanned for his missing piece who practically stood by him like a shadow, “Where’s Sam?”

Dean set out his arm for you to grab, "C’mon."

You furrowed your brows at him as you apprehensively grabbed onto his arm, and he began leading you somewhere. Dean held a pleased smile as his eyes kept flickering to you.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“I hate it when you’re so vague,” you whined.

Confusion clouded your mind until your eyes caught sight of the beautifully decorated lobby. It was straight out of your dreams with the man to match. Sam stood in the midst of it all with a book in hand. As much as you would’ve loved to stare at Sam for the entirety of the night, the scene has caught your eye.

The lighting was dim, but highlighted all the right spots. It gave the once blinding lighting that streamed out of the open windows a cosy and romantic environment. The tacky carpet that looked like it had taken its design from a The Shining knockoff was gone, and the dirty, wooden tiled floor was polished; reflecting the light and the silhouettes of the objects on it like a mirror.

As you sunk in the scene, your eyes drifted back to Sam who was obviously getting more nervous by the second. He had pulled the scene together, and was the cherry on the top of your cake. Your face heated up as you sized him up. He looked his absolute best. The perfect combination between sexy and stunning.

Dean removed your hand from his hold as he began to back away. The tension filling the room between you two was beginning to get suffocating for him, and he knew you two needed to be alone. And besides, a beer and trashy, hotel food awaited him upstairs back in the hotel room. His eyes lingered on the scene as you moved towards where Sam stood, and pride swelled up with him. His little brother was in love.

Your feet stopped short as Sam waltzed towards you. You felt out of place in the grandioses of it all in your pajama pants and sweater you stole from Sam. Especially with how eloquently Sam was dressed up. The two of you looked like Batman and the Joker standing by each other.

Sam opened his mouth first since an awkward silence was taking place, “[Name].”

“Sam,” you responded, eager to hear what the man in front of you had to say.

His fingers tapped against the cover of the book he held nervously, “Uh, you’re probably wondering what’s going on…”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “It’s a bit extravagant.”

“Do you not like it?” Sam uttered, fear coursing through his veins.

Your eyes shot wide as you corrected him frantically, “No! No! No! I love it! It’s amazing.” You bit your lip as you checked out Sam, “And you look amazing too.”

“No, you’re the one who looks amazing here, really.”

“I’m dressed like a homeless guy, Sam. You look like a sexy, dark, dreamy professor who all the students bend over in front of. I mean, wow, look at yourself.”

Sam blushed a cute, faint red at your words. You thought he looked good. A shy smile spread across his face, “Thanks… I, uh, I wanted to look good for you.”

“Really?” Your expression brightened. Sam Winchester dressed up for you? Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Why?”

Sam took a deep breath as the unavoidable question came up, “I need to tell you something, but I, well, I got you this.” Sam extended his arms out and pressed the book into your hands. It was a hardcover edition of your favorite book, and a big, toothy grin covered your face, “Sam! I can’t even thank you enough for this. It’s like I’m dreaming.”

Sam worn a bashful expression as you moved to place the book on a nearby tabletop. His hand fiddled with the iPod in his pocket, trying to cue the music for you two to dance together with before you turned back towards him. Sweaty hands sleeked the device as he fumbled for the play button. Sam clicked the play button as he shoulders relaxed.

Your head tilted to the sound of notes of one of your favorite songs pouring out of the speakers Sam had set up. It was slow and soft but most of all; romantic. Sam had walked to where you stood and now shadowed over you. You felt his presence from behind you, and spun around to face him.

“Dance?” Sam asked, his hand extended towards you. You blinked as you placed your hand in his. Sam cupped your hand in his as he brought you to his chest, and led you to the middle of the lobby; where he had cleared out the most space for the two of you to dance in.

Your eyes were latched onto Sam’s face; admiring all of his features as the song faded away. His hair framed his face perfectly, calling attention to his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. His gentle, intelligent eyes. His perfectly shaped, cupid-bow lips. He was gorgeous.

And Sam was thinking the very same. He had lost sigh of anything else but you. Even in the homiest of clothes, you outshone everything and everyone. Sam couldn’t help the way his eyes kept falling to your lips; eager to entrap them with his own.

The silence between you two was comforting; especially with the gentle rhythm of the music guiding your bodies as if they were one. The eye contact between you two was electric and never ending.

“Sam,” you uttered breathlessly, still caught up in majesty of it all, “what did you need to say to me?” A part of you was holding your breath. Praying that it was those very three words you dreamed he would utter to you for years.

Sam’s eyes softened, “I-I love you.”

Tears erupted from your eyes at the words as a heartfelt smile spread across your face, “I love you too.”

Sam’s fears and anxieties were gone as the words he too had been longing for left your lips. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that followed. You loved him.

Sam caressed the side of your face as he leaned in to to kiss you. His eyes fluttered shut as you tip-toed and connected your lips together. Sam’s lips flushed against yours, soft and addicting. Your fingers had crawled up to his neck and dug into the back of his hair; pulling him closer than you thought was humanly possible. Your bodies contorted together beautifully. You two were no longer two vessels intertwining, but rather two lovers coming together in a beautiful display of passion and yearning.

✎ notes . . . very much inspired by the dean & rory scene from gilmore girls. first time writing for sam so I apologize if it was out of character :( （ 𖦹◞◟） 🌠˖ ♪

©️ sethcertified 2023

#☆ — sethcertified #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x male reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural x male reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural #supernatural x you

[evilwriter37]

Ever so slightly obsessed with the idea that Viggo contracted the Scourge like Astrid did (cus I refuse to believe all of it was on purpose, it doesn't make sense to waste time and resources to deliberately look for an eradicated plague, I prefer to think his men had turbo bad luck and he, as the opportunistic son of a gun he is was like "welp. Might as well use that")

I'm imagining Ryker going about his business on a night shift when he hears some commotion in Viggo’s chambers. He rolls eyes and goes in, already prepared to say "go to bed already, you hopeless idiot" but stops when he sees his brother frantically searching through projections in the Dragon Eye. And when he instead asks "what are you doing?" Viggo dismisses him in a hoarse voice before doubling over, coughing raggedly

Ryker might not be the brightest but the dots weren't difficult to connect. This is one of those moments his face falls in a "oh fuck" expression

Viggo getting sick is an interesting thought that I never really considered! So he would have gotten sick before Astrid?

(And yeah, the Scourge probably reappeared and Viggo decided to use it for profit. He’s such a bastard for that.)

#asks #httyd #rtte #viggo grimborn

[comparativetarot]

Transformation. Art by Ed Buryn, from The William Blake Tarot of the Creative Imagination.

Transformation corresponds to Death in conventional Tarot. It represents the impermanence of materialistic consciousness, and the prospect of imminent transformation — one way or the other. Before the soul can return to eternity, the concerns of the material self must be cut away, if not by choice than by time itself. This card signifies a major change in consciousness, necessary at this point in the journey. Change is inevitable in any case, and the vegetative world is a hopeless cause — "the grave is heaven's golden gate, and rich and poor around it wait." The demise of one thing is the dawning of something else. Energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. The release of energy previously imprisoned in old forms endows this process with great drama and power. However, this card is primarily a metaphor for mystical, not physical, death — it points to the need for transforming oneself during this lifetime, beginning with this moment, as an essential step in the process of spiritual initiation. In this collaged card, we see two aspects of time, combined at the hip in the form of a rather grotesque angel. Its blue persona holds "time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep strikes empires from the root," harvesting the life of the past. Loss must always precede the coming rebirth. Simultaneously, time's lively red persona, wings raised high, looks the other way — into the future and new life. The people shown in the card are the same as those depicted in 10 of Painting, and most are oblivious to their fate. In the lower border, the thistles in the previous card are now joined by various remnants of defeated humanity and artifacts of hard times: the sheephook of innocence is fractured by the march of time, the pitcher of life broken by time's scythe, and the overgrown fountain of fertility abandoned to frogs and the locust's scourge. Overhead, bat-winged angels cavort in the clouds, while others at the sides dangle spiders from threads of fate. There is no escape from the decay of worldly things, except through transformation into a new regime of belief. KEYWORDS: UPROOTING OF LIFE • CHANGE. CHANGE OF CONSCIOUSNESS • PRUNING AND CUTTING AWAY • INTENSE EXPERIENCE • GETTING BACK TO BASICS • ELIMINATION. LETTING GO • SURRENDER • Those unable to accept the pain of new beliefs, who would rather endure the pain of their dying beliefs, now give up the ghost right here. Those who can accept going further find that surrender brings renewal...

#Ed Buryn #The William Blake Tarot of the Creative Imagination #Death #Major Arcana #Tarot #William Blake

[dufrau]

my brother. though thoust are inundated by storm and cold and quaking earth, thou mustnt succumb to these false and hopeless thoughts. humanity may be a scourge, society a pestilence, we must still appreciate beauty. the trees are budding and the daffodils pushing up through the dirt. spring garlic are sending up shoots. beans are on the hearth and bread baking in the oven. the red sox are in second place on the division. the pink drink is cold.

Buddy 😭

The daffodils really are coming up in my yard right now and they are very pretty, and the red sox really arent that bad yet! It's all true!

You've got me dead to rights.

I am simply ahead of myself. I am racing a few months into the future thinking about oysters and white wine and sweat at my temples and squinting in the sun and falling asleep on top of the sheets.

But that would be a waste of spring 💜

#asks #there's some good in this world mr frodo etc etc #my brother in beans

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Bad ending: Vex and Keyleth entered the castle of Vampire King Desmond Caine. Hoping to end the vampiric scourge, and hopefully loot the place. Unfortunately, they got careless and wandered into the werewolf pit ... and all of them are in heat, and ready to breed the poor Elven women.

“Oh shit…I think we went the wrong way!”

Those were the only words Keyleth was able cry out before one of the massive snarling werewolves suddenly lunged out at her—and she, still stunned and unprepared for the massive beast’s appearance, let herself be tackled to the floor with a sudden cry.

“Kiki! Shit, h-hang on!” Vex cried out, but before she could try anything that might’ve let her help her friend, she felt herself be knocked hard into the pit’s wall by another of the massive canine beasts, her body shuddering as she felt it’s hot breath on her neck…and then something large prod at her ass.

Keyleth felt it too, pinned as she was to the ground, and she gasped. “V-Vex—I-is that—“

“I-I think so,” Vex murmured, for a moment sounding just as concerned as her companion. As a ranger, she had expertise in knowing about monsters—how to kill them, how to track them, and what their mannerisms were—and she knew well the stories of what happened to women who stumbled upon beasts like these.

Any hope that she might be wrong, though, was dispelled as she felt the prodding at her ass grow harder, until she heard the ripping of fabric as her pants were torn open—and all at once she felt the rough slam of a massive knotted cock plowing into her tight, hot ass. The ranger jerked and threw her head back in a scream—one quickly muffled by the werewolf’s snout enveloping her in a deep passionate kiss.

“V-Vex~!!” Keyleth screamed for her friend, but it was quickly broken by a scream of pleasure as she felt the same—moaning as the massive cock slammed into her folds and began to roughly rape the helpless druid into the soft ground beneath her. She was helpless to stop the beast as it ripped her robes from her body, her figure bare before it as it loomed over her, plowing down with a lustful, wild fervor.

And as the two elven women cried helpless and hopeless against the savage and lustful assault, they were still all too aware of the aroused growls around them, and the steady shifting of paws across the ground as more of the pack drew closer. It was becoming very clear, very quickly, that they were going to be stuck here with these beasts for a very, very long time.

Vex’s only hope as her body shook with pleasure was that her brother would find them before it was too late, and they both became the pack’s loyal breeding bitches.

#a twisted tale (nsft snippet) #you've met a terrible fate (bad ending) #exandria is for lovers (critical role) #at the beast's mercy (monster fucking) #lustful by moonlight (werewolves) #the sweet and sexy ashari (keyleth) #the naughty huntress (vex'ahlia)

[fstbmp-a]

@scumbag-the-hedgehog | x

Alright, that shitshow Sonic and the other blue goons she could take, but cramping her style? It was a step too far for her. Glaring through her shades before propping them on brow, she tilts her head this way and that while she considers. Certainly looked enough like her...

"A'ight, th' hell's this about? I didn't order a court jester, last I bloody checked."

#It is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #scumbagthehedgehog #hope this works! lmk if you want smth else instead

[beforus-for-real-justice]

CC: rather than wasting my time further, i shall begin using this for what my associate offered a space to me for: the communication of my knowledge

CC: one land will be scourged by space and flames. the other, of course, has already been destroyed and merely hasn’t noticed yet due to the chronological split

CC: there will be an infinite game and all will play or be destroyed. some unlucky and hopeless souls will do both

CC: all will be lost and perhaps more gained

CC: i shall ensure that what is done is done correctly. what is necessary shall come to pass. until then, we merely set the board.

#mod lanque

[kindlythevoid]

Which part of Lord of the Rings is your favourit?

Oh! Where do I begin!?

When I was young, really young, I’d have to say my favorite was reading about Sam defeating Shelob, as an elementary schooler who was deathly afraid of spiders.

Then I got a little bit older and my favorite part was Eowyn. I was too young to fully grasp her character arc, so at the time I just thought it was really cool seeing a woman swing a sword and win. (I dressed up as her for Halloween!)

Maybe a year after that, when I started writing my chapters a little longer, my characters a little darker, because I thought it was fun and interesting, my favorite chapter was the Scouring of the Shire. (Scourging? Scouring? Apparently I can never get it right, ha ha!)

Tom Bombadil was definitely my favorite at… some point? I mean, it’s Tom Bombadil!

But what is my favorite part in Lord of the Rings? Why do I read and read and read these books and watch the movies over and over? Well, I’m afraid I can’t say it succinctly.

My favorite part…

Every time I read Lord of the Rings I come across my new favorite part, my new favorite character. I forget the little nuances each year and discover something new every time, every time.

The Talking Fox that shows up for a thought and then is whisked away.

Beregond and Bergil, who take Pippin under their wing in Gondor when Faramir and Denethor and Gandalf are busy.

Boromir, poor Boromir, who I’ve finally come to understand after all these years.

I love the snark of Bilbo in his notes to relatives, I love Frodo's inability to leave the Shire and his friends' inability to leave him. I love meeting Strider, not Aragorn, I love the quietness of Rivendell, I love how the Fellowship grows and interacts with each other. I love Boromir's short arc, I love the Three Hunters, I love the slow, deep thoughtfulness of Treebeard. I love Frodo's strength and hopeless hope, I love Sam's grounded nature and determination, I love every single poem and song that is thrown in there just because it can be. I love Faramir's wit, I love Gollum's complaining.

And I haven't even gotten to Return of the King.

In short (TL;DR), I discover my new favorite part every time I open up the book. Perhaps I'll be able to give you a better answer when I finish it again next year. :)

#Side story: #I got this ask from my beloved mutual and as I was typing out a response I realized I didn’t have a name for my beloved mutual!! #However I am new and pretty self-contained and I knew that others have their names in their bios or their own mutuals will call them so #I decided to scroll thru mutual’s blog and #guys it was predominantly star wars #Of course that was why I had followed them way-back-when and there were some other posts as well that I loved #But it was Star Wars and I was a mutual who happened to be reading LotR and mutual sent an ask about my favorite part #(╥ ╥) #Do you see??? #Am I making things up?? #I don’t care I don’t care #My mutual my mutual I love you too <3 #I don’t know what to call you other than your user #But it brightens my day whenever I see you or any of my other mutuals liking my posts #Thank you thank you #i love you <3 #and I love your clones and your aesthetic #ask #the lord of the rings #kiki re-re-re-reads the lord of the rings

[ahrencmeptn-aa]

@timelocker​ sent:  ❛ is that blood? is it yours? ❜❜ Inbox Prompts (always accepting)

“Aw, ya worried?” Sarcasm oozing from his voice as he grinned, baring shark-like teeth. A pause to spit some of the blood out of his mouth to the side, chuckling to himself as he adjusted jacket. Sure, that hurt like all hell, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t walk off. It’d be healed by the turn of the hour, even. “Sorry, ain’t serious. Gonna take more than that t’ do any real damage to me.”

#It Is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #timelocker #i left it ambiguous for you askjdbas #also i need to work on ask banners but uuuugh work

[argumate]

Yo owl, I’m curious, what’s your honest straight-facts opinion on socialism?

My friends, I had not intended to discuss this controversial subject at this particular time. However, I want you to know that I do not shun controversy. On the contrary, I will take a stand on any issue at any time, regardless of how fraught with controversy it might be. You have asked me how I feel about socialism. All right, this is how I feel about socialism:

If when you say socialism you mean the devil's ideology, the poison scourge, the spectre haunting Europe, that destroys freedom, dethrones reason, invades the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean the evil idea that topples the Christian man and woman from the pinnacle of righteous, gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, and despair, and shame and helplessness, and hopelessness, then certainly I am against it.

But, if when you say socialism you mean the rational science, the sensible plan, the community spirit, that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean the stimulating vision that puts the spring in the old gentleman's step on a frosty, crispy morning; if you mean the idea which enables a man to magnify his joy, and his happiness, and to forget, if only for a little while, life's great tragedies, and heartaches, and sorrows; if you mean that idea, the implementation of which allows us to provide tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitiful aged and infirm; to build highways and hospitals and schools, then certainly I am for it.

This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise.