#your solution can't just be 'kill off the weak'

[justacupcakewithablog]

Because I can't get over it

Ppl on this site: Yeah when you hit 50 you should kill yourself before you get to old so you're not a burden on your loved ones or to society

Me: Okay but like...you saying that is like not only agiest but ableist right? Cause like you do know there are young people that have to deal with the same issues older people do? And if your solution is to just kill off the old people that mindset also means you'd have to kill off the younger people too? There are young people who can't get around or need care takers and help doing tasks like bathing or going to the bathroom, it's not just an old people thing...

#ALSO PEOPLE AGE DIFFERENTLY #my dad is almost 60 and can take care of himself #my grandma is almost 80 and take care of themselves #LIKE THE SOLUTION YOU START UP IS VERY FLAWED #it sounds sooo fascist the way ypu people talk and dressing up a 'lol funny' like #not everyone has shitty parents/grandparents #or olderly friends #some may want to see them have a full and happy life and be taken care of #AND EVEN IF THEY WHERE LIKE NOT THE NICEST PEOPLE #WHY GIVES YOU THAT RIGHT TO KILL THEM OFF CAUSE THEY DIDN'T MAKE THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS #there are some people with mental disabilities or issues that make it difficult to keep and maintain relationships #its just so very fucking ableist on top of the ageism #not everyone is gonna be in there 20's forever #not everyone in there 20's is able bodied #your solution can't just be 'kill off the weak' #because what kind of society is that?! #ageism #ableism #ableist

[kitkatscabinet]

an eye for an eye, a child for a child

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Summary: Lost to her rage and grief at the loss of her beloved Lucerys Rhaenyra orders the capture of Aemond's pregnant lady wife. Only to find that maybe the two women could come to understand each other more than she thought possible.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: idk characters and their shitty canon behaviour, birth

A/N: Blood and Cheese didn't kill Jahaerys and Rhaenyra was close with Helaena. First Aemond request baby! keep em coming. This turned into a somewhat of a feminist rant lol

Although the circumstances of your occupation on the island weren't pleasant, you could still admit to yourself that Dragonstone held a beauty you readily admired. Your husband had always described the place as incredibly droll and dreary which you could easily see. But truthfully you found it peaceful, beautiful in a way King's Landing could never be. Even if you were confined to your room with Rhaenyra your only point of contact.

Hopelessly alone, terrified of what the blacks had planned for you, you wondered if what you felt was even a fraction of Lucerys's terror when he had been forced to flee from your husband. Tears burned in the corners of your eyes as one of your hands came to rest upon your protruding belly. Lucerys had been a child, and as a soon-to-be mother yourself a large part of you couldn't begrudge Rhaenyra for taking you in an act of revenge.

The creak indicating the opening of the door to your makeshift prison interrupted your thoughts. Turning you were met with the sight of a haggard-looking Rhaenyra. Her hands were empty, causing you to tilt your head in confusion as you watched her cross the space to sit across from you.

Immediately you noticed the darkened bruise decorating her neck, a mark you had often seen left behind on Aegon's victims as they tearfully tried to scurry out of sight. You didn't speak, waiting for Rhaenyra to start, but you knew she had noticed your sympathetic look. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything, just continued to stare at you with a faraway look in her eyes.

"I know my words will offer you no comfort, but I truly am so sorry for your recent losses. I can't even imagine..." you trailed off, wincing as a sharp glare was thrown your way.

"No you cannot" Rhaenyra's voice is filled with all the fury of a mother that has just lost two children.

"I just... I wanted you to know that through all of this, that you had someone on your side" you replied, struggling to find the correct words to truly convey your meaning.

"My side? Your husband killed my son" she yelled, fists balling so tightly you worried she would draw blood.

"He didn't want to" you hoarsely whispered, "he lost control of Vhagar. He is a boy playing at a war he cannot possibly understand. It's a weak defence and doesn't nearly justify anything but... He lost himself to his rage. A rage that we all let fester for years with no consequence. So while my words mean nothing I still wanted you to know that I am sorry, that Aemond is sorry, even if his stupid Targaryen pride will never let him admit it."

"Sorry doesn't bring back my son!" Rhaenyra's chest was shaking with rage that was waylaid into tears. Slowly you raised yourself from your seat, stepping towards the mourning woman to gently bring her into your arms. To your surprise, she didn't fight your actions, instead snaking her arms around to clutch at your back as she finally allowed herself to sob.

"I never wanted any of this" she admitted against your chest, "I had hoped to find a peaceful solution, but now I fear that will be impossible." Her voice was so small, so fragile that it took you a few seconds to reconcile it with the strong woman you had admired for so long.

"We might still be able to," you said, dropping to your knees and taking her hands in your own. "I want Aegon on the throne as much as you do. Aemond doesn't want him either, and I know you and Helaena care for each other. Hells, Aegon himself doesn't want the throne" you rambled a small spark of hope filling you suddenly.

Seeing Rhaenyra begin to pull away from you, you hurried to try and rectify your position. "He tried to run away you know? Aegon. He was going to escape to Essos but Ser Criston found him first on Otto's orders. Please, reach out to Alicent, you loved her once, that must count for something!"

"How?" is all the Queen manages to choke out at your declaration, grief still colouring her features.

"Because I know Alicent still loves you, loves you the same as you loved her in your youth." Though you loved Aemond now, you had not always done so. And as such, you had spent a great amount of time with the Dowager Queen in the early months of your marriage. While all the men in your lives seemed to be blind fools, you were not.

"It was her father that poisoned her against you. A poison that festered due to her bitterness. The men in our lives could never understand how we feel, but you can. You, Alicent, me. We've all been burdened with the task of womanhood, scorned and dismissed on the whims of men."

"Then why? Why has she been so persistent in my torment, in the torment of my sons. I have sued for peace more times than I can count only to be rebuffed at every turn" she scoffed, pulling her hands from yours as she moved to pace around the small room.

"I can't speak wholly for Alicent's reasons" you admitted, taking a deep breath. "But truthfully, I think she was jealous. She never loved your father. Her father has manipulated and trampled on her for her entire life, her children all ignored by their father. She has given her whole to duty, done what was expected of her whilst you trampled all over yours. I cannot excuse all of her actions, but try to see her point of view. Try for the woman that still loves you very much."

Rhaenyra is silent for some time, but you can see your words have had an effect. When she finally does reply it is with a question that takes you by surprise.

"And you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question your Grace" you frowned.

"You counted yourself amongst the women scorned at the hands of men."

"I didn't always love my husband, but Aemond demanded my hand" you admit, the truth tasting incredibly sour on your tongue. "Although I love him dearly now, he sometimes makes it very hard to. I suspect you may feel the same." One of the Queen's hands reached up to absentmindedly caress the bruised skin of her neck at your words as she simply hummed in agreement.

A sigh leaves her lips as she turned to face you once more, "Daemon wanted to have Helaena's children killed. In retaliation for Lucerys," you are left reeling at the confession, bile working its way up your throat as you collapsed back into the chair.

"I wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow sweet Helaena to undergo that sort of pain. But Daemon was persistent, so in order to save her I chose you as the target instead."

You are prevented from replying to her admission by the sudden rush of cramps in your lower belly and back, the pain drawing a gasp and catching Rhaenyra's attention. The woman was at your side immediately, eyes widened as she watched your waters break.

"Fuck!" you screamed, hunching over as a new wave of pain assaulted your body.

"Quickly" Rhaenyra called, pulling you up and supporting your weight as she led you from the room and out into the corridor. Your pained groans were quick to catch the attention of the servants and lords alike as Rhaenyra screamed for a maester.

Daemon, who had arrived to investigate the source of all the fuss was quick to stand in your way, "this is what we wanted" he hissed to his wife, glaring at you. Both you and Daemon are then taken aback by Rhaenyra's fierce reply

"No, this is what you wanted! I am the queen, and I'll have no more of your schemes now move!" There was a power in her voice that you could only admire with a gaping mouth before you were forced on the move again.

To your great surprise Rhaenyra refused to leave your side, only slipping out once when you had begged for your husband through tears.

It was nearing the end of the night, the pain had made it impossible to continue your pacing and as you lay sweating in the birthing bed there was only one though on your mind.

"Aemond. Where is Aemond?" you choked out through cries and gritted teeth, squeezing Rhaenyra's hand as another contraction rocked your body.

"He's on his way sweetling" she promised, "Jace will be leading him back very soon." You couldn't find the strength to reply, head falling back limply against the pile of pillows as you tried to tune out the pain. According to the midwife it was still not yet time to push and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out.

So lost in the haze of pain as Rhaenyra dabbed at your forehead you didn't notice as the chamber doors were violently thrown open, your furious husband stalking in. His feet quickly came to a stop as his good eye was met with the horrific sight of your pain.

Where you hadn't noticed the interruption Rhaenyra had, and was quick to yell at her younger brother.

"My lord!" one of the maesters interjected in abject horror, "you must wait outside-" Aemond however, was having none of his nonsense and for a second Rhaenyra feared the man's mouth had just cost him his life. Another pained groan from you was his saving grace though, and in record time Aemond was at your side, taking your hand from his sisters'.

"I'm here love, I'm here" he assured, throwing a quick glare at his sister before turning back to attend to you.

"Aemond?" you opened your exhausted eyes, desperately hoping you weren't hallucinating. A sob of relief leaving you once you realised he was really in front of you.

"My lady, you must start to push" your reunion is cut short by the midwife.

"I can't" you sobbed, shaking your head in denial.

"You must!" she insisted, even as you continued to refuse.

"Please love, you must listen to the midwife" Aemond urged, wiping your hair back from your face as he squeezed your hand. Groaning you attempted to sit up, only to immediately fall back as your muscles refused to cooperate.

"Aemond I can't" you protested once more, tears blurring your vision. It is Rhaenyra that ultimately comes to your side.

"Yes you can sweet girl. You must, your Queen demands it so." Her words managed to get a slight laugh from you as you remove your hand from your husband's to clutch at hers once more. "Aemond, sit behind her and support her weight" she demanded, and to your great shock he moved to comply with a complaint.

The hours blur together as you lay with your back against your husband's sturdy chest, Rhaenyra clutching one of your hands in her own as you screamed in pain. You are sobbing and heaving but with the support of your family, you push through. And eventually, you are rewarded with a shrill cry.

Tears of relief pour from your eyes as you demand to hold your child. You hear the hitch in your husband's breath as both of you lay eyes on your child for the first time.

"A girl" you whisper, voice choking with love. Looking back at your husband you can only watch in adoration as his eye refuses to leave your little girl's face, his arms wrapping around you to stroke at the small tuft of white hair.

A silent consensus seemed to be reached for the inhabitants of the room in that moment. The war could wait, the crown could wait. For now you would simply bask in the wonder of new life.

Taglist (crosses indicate an unavailable tag): @targeryenmoony @thelittleswanao3 @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader

[scientia-rex]

I also spend a lot of time trying to convince people to prevent problems, because prevention still works better than cures. Don't fucking smoke! I would instantly become the best doctor who ever lived if I could just convince all my patients to quit smoking. Avoid alcohol! Don't do meth! Don't do fentanyl! Things that are poisons will poison you in ways you understand, in the short term, but also ways you can't really understand until you've watched dozens of people die from it thirty years later, struggling to breathe from their COPD or weak and nauseated beyond bearing from their end-stage liver disease. I watched a man take 3 weeks in the ICU to die from what meth did to his heart. Your heart isn't meant to beat 145 times a minute for weeks on end. Your liver isn't meant to metabolize 5 shots of gin a day. You aren't going to be able to use denial and willpower to repair the damage your own habits did.

I drink a lot less now than I did before I went into medicine. Lot of different reasons, including that I'm older and more settled. But I can't look at it the same way I used to; I can't brush off as a "fun quirk" what I know is alcohol use on a level that risks withdrawal seizures if they were to suddenly stop, like some of my family members do, nervously asking me about their loved one's drinking when we're alone because beneath the jokes they know it's a problem.

If you're having more than one, maybe two drinks a day on average, over a long period of time, you are damaging your body in ways you don't understand. You're setting up a permanent heightened inflammatory state. Your heart cells don't like alcohol; Google "alcohol-induced cardiomyopathy." Your esophagus and stomach respond to incessant bathing in poison by first developing wounds and then cancer. Your liver, of course, doesn't like it. Your liver not only converts poisons to harmless substances you can excrete, it also makes your platelets, so your blood can clot. It makes albumin, a protein that's essentially for keeping water in your blood vessels and not letting it leach into your tissues. So people who are dying of liver failure are in pain and weak and tired and sad the whole fucking time! And the only solution, a liver transplant, will come with a lifetime of medication and specialist check-ups and the knowledge that if you fuck up and kill this liver, too, no one is going to be eager to give you another try.

I don't guilt-trip my alcoholic patients with liver disease. I don't guilt-trip my smokers with COPD. They chose to cope with substances for reasons, even if I disagree with their reasons, even if those reasons are opaque to me. They will suffer the natural consequences of those actions whether I guilt-trip them or not. I want them to continue to see me, I want them to be honest with me. Other people will lay enough guilt on them. And nothing I can say or do would ever compare to the physical and mental suffering that goes with those diseases.

But if you can prevent these diseases in yourself, prevent them. Quit smoking. Do it now. Your lungs are going to look better starting almost immediately, with positive changes continuing for many years. Drink less alcohol. Sure, it's fun, sure, it's a longstanding human tradition, but it is also unfortunately a straight up poison and your body knows that no matter how persuasively you argue about the obvious failure of Prohibition. You can't argue with a cell. You can't convince your kidneys that high blood pressure shouldn't damage them. They are a system; they do what they do; they existed long before prefrontal cortex existed to justify what we want to do but know to be harmful.



#the attending dr. kristophine

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:

"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"

"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"

"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"

Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.

The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!

The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".

The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?

After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.

Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment). 

And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.

That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.

First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!

Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).

Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.

While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

[cherriesncinnamon]

stress reliever / spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: your fellow profiler at the bau is stressed over a case. shoulders tight and room empty, you decide to relieve some of his tension.

warnings/tags: stressed spencer, grinding, blowjob, fem!reader.

word count: 1.1k.

a/n: tell me why this is literally the first thing i've written in a nearly year?! i've been so busy but i've missed this. rewatching criminal minds for the third time so thought i should treat myself to a lil spence smut.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I just don't understand what I'm missing." Spencer announces, clutching his hair in his fists as he slumps down on a chair.

"Neither do any of us. This UnSub loves puzzles, clearly he's really good at them, too." I reassure. SSA Spencer Reid hates when he cannot figure something out. Not because he has a weak ego, but because he really should know.

"God, my head is killing me." He says, rubbing his temples gently with his thumb and forefinger.

"Probably because we've been up for over 24 hours. Hotch and the rest won't be back for at least another hour, a nap couldn't hurt." I suggest, tucking my knees up to my chest in my chair, preparing to drift off in under a minute.

"No. No, I have to figure out some of this, even just a little bit. We can't let this son-of-a-bitch roam free for another second." He picks himself up and looks at the board again, eyes squinting at the words until they're unintelligible.

I show up behind him, taking a look at the board for the fiftieth time that day to see if a few minutes away from it had altered my ability to solve the puzzles. It hadn't. I rest my hands on Spencer's shoulders, and he jolts at my touch. His muscles are tensed and knotted.

"Jesus, Spence. You need to lie down. We know better than anyone that stress does not make our jobs any easier." I urge, slowly massaging his shoulders in an empathetic way. Spencer shakes his head, turning to face me.

"Sleep will not relieve this stress." He replies, gaze fixed. He sighs deeply, looking down at me as if he's waiting for me to provide a solution I definitely don't have. If anyone has the mental equipment to solve this case, it's Spencer Reid.

I guide him over to a chair, sitting beside him. I take a swig of my cold tea and rest my head on my knees. He stares at me with those big brown eyes that are usually full of life - well, in Spencer's kind of way - that are now deadened and hollow. I rest my hand on his and he squeezes mine back with a smile.

This is the first time I'm seeing him smile in days. I look eagerly at his lips, not hesitating to reach out and kiss him. He, of course, kisses back, gripping the side of my face tightly.

There's always been a mutual attraction between the two of us, but neither have ever even thought of acting on it. Derek loves to call us Romeo and Juliet. I laugh; Spencer doesn't get the joke.

I pull his hair through my hands, tugging gently at his roots as our kiss intensifies. I'm so glad he cut that mane, swapping it out for something much better.

I feel myself drifting off to a blissful state when Spencer pulls away abruptly, leaving my lips alone. He grimaces at me, clearly fighting some internal demons I can't see. I know he's not the romantic type, so I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. We don't exchange any words for a few seconds until he gives in and reaches into me. I refuse his kiss.

"Do you really want this, Spence?" I ask, to his contemplation. He thinks for a minute, breath heavily paced. I look down at the bulge in his pants, pulsating through the fabric.

"Well, it sure looks like it." I joke with a harmless laugh. Spencer sighs at me, covering himself with both of his hands. I take his wrist and remove it, lightly stroking him with my palm, much to his pleasure. He tips his head back in the chair from my slight touch, grinding his hips into my hand, eager for more.

Feeling brave, I push Spencer's chair out from under the table, making enough room for me to straddle his lap, placing myself on top of his clothed bulge. Spencer doesn't know where to look, his eyes pacing from my eyes, to my lips, to my breasts, and to my waist. I take his hands and place them on my hips for support.

He's hard against my crotch, so hard that I can tell he won't be able to hold on for long. I play on this, beginning to grind myself against him at a painfully slow pace. He moans out, licking his lips that are dry from his breathlessness. I run my fingers through the front of his hair, pushing the strands out of his face while starting to move faster.

Spencer's hands squeeze my hips, pushing me down further onto his length that is desperate for a release. His eyes alternate between open and closed, unsure whether to admire me or savour the sensation.

"Does that feel good?" I pry, peppering kisses on his supple neck. Spencer can barely mumble a mhm as he groans out more and more. I sense his closeness and remove myself, sliding down to under the table.

"What are you doing? Why'd you stop?" Spencer begs, sitting up in his chair. Looking up, I smile at him, making my way towards his zipper.

I unzip his pants and break the waistband of his black boxers, watching in arousal at his cock spring free. His tip is glazed in pre-cum, veins spiralled around his length, begging to be relieved. I'm shocked at his size, to be honest. I had always thought he would fit the stereotypes of geniuses, assumed that he was compensating for something with his intelligent. But clearly, he just hasn't had the opportunity to show anyone what he can do.

Without waiting a second longer, I lick his sensitive tip then take him into my slick mouth, observing his chest heave inhumanly fast as I move up and down his member, making sure to cover every single inch. Spencer rests his hand on the top of head, stroking my hair softly.

"God." He whispers, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and gripping the armrest of his chair. I use my free hand to stroke the delicate skin of his abdomen, sending goosebumps across his entire body. I can feel him pulsating in my mouth, so close to climax that it has to be uncomfortable.

I remove my mouth, now using both hands to jerk him. The wetness makes my hands glide on his cock, welcoming his finish.

Finishing on my blouse, Spencer takes a minute to catch his breath. He swiftly wipes himself with a tissue from the table, tucking his still half-hard length away.

"Feel better?" I ask, walking towards the door to wander to my office change my blouse before the team arrives.

"Much better."

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler

[thisismeracing]

hiii, would you mind doing prompt 8 with lewis hamilton please ? i love your writing 🥹

Heyyy 🥹💓 thanks, I'm really glad to hear that, nonny!!! here you go, hope you like it!

From the Quick Prompt List: 8. “You said you wanted to be my friend”

word count: 1.4k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY AGAIN AAAAAA)

pairing: reader (she/her pronouns) x lewis hamilton

warnings: angst (w happy ending), not proofread, mentions of a breakup, pinning - friends to lovers trope.

When Yn called crying he didn't waste any time to show up at her door. Lewis knew he was the first person she called because that was just how they worked, they prioritized the other above all things. That was one of the reasons Jackson, Yn's ex, gave for the sudden breakup, he thought they were in love, he thought that Lewis was a looming figure, he felt like a third party in his own relationship, and it didn't matter how many times Yn repeated they were just friends Jackson was convinced either Lewis and Yn were too blind to see or he was being lied to.

When the pilot got there he used the spare key he had to get inside, he took some seconds to look around the living room, some tissues on top of the coffee table, along with an open pint of ice cream and one of her favorite books.

"Hey," he whispered when Yn showed up at the door separating the kitchen from the living room. She gave him a weak smile before running into his open arms and letting the storm take its place.

"He didn't even have a good reason, Lew," she sobbed burying her head in the crook of his neck.

Lewis brought her body close and gave a light tap on her back, a sign for her to lace her legs around him so that he could carry her. He walked with Yn, now tangled in his body, to the couch where they sat together, and he heard the way she complained about the breakup. She wasn't telling him everything, though, and he knew well enough because after all, he was her best friend, yet he chose to just listen and comfort her.

The British watched as his own heart broke at the sight of the woman he loved crying over someone else. ]

"Am I unlovable? Am I a bad lover?" Yn asked after her cries subsided, Lewis's hands going up and down her back in a soothing caress. Her question was more of a conversation with herself because her first two exes complained about her best friend too, which at the time she thought was just jealousy, now, the third time sends her a message, right? No way three of her last partners didn't like Lewis without a reason. What's there not to like about him? she thought. "I must be horrible to be around," she muttered in a huff and Lewis took a deep breath deciding he had enough.

He didn't want to confess his feelings like this, but he also couldn't watch as Yn searched for a problem inside her when it wasn't about her, but about those idiots who let her go. Who could have her a let her go? And Lewis knew her enough to know that he would try to explain for hours and she would still say the problem was her, so he decided it was time to come clean.

"The problem is not you, Yn, it was never you. It can't be you because it pains me to not be around you, it physically hurts me not being able to hug you all the time. I wish I could carry you around everywhere, I wish you could be my forever. You could never be the problem, because you're the solution, at least to me. I love you so much and it fucking kills me to watch you cry for yet another guy all the while trying to search problems on yourself when you're just...perfect."

Yn was silent for a minute. Her eyes were wide open staring ahead of Leiws at her white walls, lips slightly parted. For a second he thought that maybe he was good at hiding his feelings. It's a beat before she's scrambling off his lap, leaving the couch and standing in the middle of her living room with an accusatory look towards him.

"You said you wanted to be my friend!" Yn sticks her point finger at him, her other hand holding at her chest like it would prevent her heart from beating any faster.

Lewis keeps his sitting position on the couch, head hanging down before mustering the courage to look her in the eyes again, "I didn't lie," he states.

"Then you care to explain to me how all of a sudden you're in love with me?"

"It's not sudden, I've been in love with you for years now, Yn. You just didn't see it," his tone is not harsh but his words made her take a step back. "When we met and I said I wanted to be your friend I wasn't lying, I still wanna be your best friend, but I want to be your lover as well, I want you to have a friend in your partner because I know you never did with the other guys. I want everything with you," Lewis confessed.

Yn shakes her head, tears spilling from her eyes like a waterfall. The realization that maybe all her past boyfriends were right: she was oblivion to the fact that there was something between her and her best friend. He loved her and Yn felt guilty for a second because she couldn't find it in her to deny that maybe it was mutual. Maybe she went through three breakups in the past few years because she was afraid of being alone and having to face her own feelings for Lewis.

Still, she shook her head looking away.

She watched from her peripheral vision as Lewis got up from her couch, one hand inside the pockets of his pants, the other sticking in her direction, instinctively she took a step back.

He winced.

It physically hurt her too, but she couldn't stop the tears nor the tsunami of thoughts about all their interactions and all her feelings and how she was blind to the truth all this time.

"Call me if you need me," the Brit whispered before heading to the door and leaving Yn to the sound of her own breath and then the sound of her own sobs because now she was crying harder than when Jackson broke up with her. The truth was, she did not really care about Jackson, she liked him just fine, his breaking up with her hurt her ego and put her on the spot of looking inside herself again, which was not good, or so she thought.

But Lewis leaving?

Lewis leaving felt like part of her went too. Like someone broke her in half and threw the other piece somewhere no one could find.

How would life be without Lewis?

She took some time to think, took hours watching the city go by from her window, all while mentally cursing herself. She could have faced it before. They could have been together for years. Yn was so tired of letting her fears speak louder than her desires. Lewis was so much braver and bolder than her, she took a deep breath and prayed for it to rub a bit in her, his boldness, his courage because it was too late to back away when the Uber accepted her ride to his address.

It was the middle of the night, almost two thirty in the morning the last time she checked her phone, but still, she wanted to be bold, to have courage, she didn't want to waste any more time.

Yn buzzed his doorbell nonstop until a pajama-clad Lewis Hamilton opened the door with a confused frown on his face. She didn't give him much time to question before starting.

"I am so sorry, I feel so dumb, I should have been more honest with myself and with you, Lewis."

"I-" he started, but she cut him off.

"I love you," she confessed. "I love you too and I was just too afraid to lose our friendship to confess it, I didn't want to see my feelings for what it was, and I made you suffer in the process. I am truly sorry for that."

It was like a height left her shoulders.

"Am I still in time to be your best friend but also your lover and biggest admirer and whatever more there is to be?"

Lewis chuckled rolling his eyes at her cute antics before sweeping her off of her feet into a tight hug that gave them just enough space to stare at each other's faces and finally kiss.

Wrote this while listening to "Nobody gets me" by queen SZA. Hope yall like this, I am way too sleepy to try and proofread or look for basic mistakes, so I'm really sorry if you see those. Don't forget to like, reblog, yada yada yada it makes me happy and inspires me to write more, do it without thinking twice <3 *mwah*

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #f1 imagines #lewis hamilton one shot #requests #millie writes #blurbs #prompt party #lewis hamilton x you #lh44

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Hi ! I just read the smart but a dumbass s/o and would like another part for the main 10, It was too funny for me

Let's go with opening a jar of jam this time.

Undertale Sans - ... That's twenty minutes now you're struggling with that jar of jam. He counted. He asked if you wanted help several times now, but you shook it off. So he's just staring. After another ten minutes, it starts to get boring so he discreetly uses blue magic to open the jar without you noticing. You let out a savage scream when you finally manage to open it, and scream at his face that you know you could do it alone. Yeah. Totally. Great job, buddy.

Undertale Papyrus - You try, he tried. You're both desperate now, pulling with all your hands at once on the damn thing to open it. Suddenly, Papyrus has a brilliant idea! He runs to his room and comes back with a giant bear trap. He puts the jar on the trap then slams it close. Good news, the jar is opened! Bad news, it's smashed in a million pieces and Papyrus's hand stayed in the trap because he forgot he had to take it out...

Underswap Sans - He looks at you in disbelief. "DUDE. FOLLOW THE ARROW ON THE LID." Oh. You turn the lid the other way around. It magically opens O: You're baffled.

Underswap Papyrus - It seems clear to him that you two have no other choice. You need to call delivery services for your breakfast. There's no way he's not having his jar of honey in hell, you're going to find a solution and quick or he will die. The delivery guy brings them... another jam of honey. Now Honey is on the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Underfell Sans - Tch, it's because you're weak. Him strong boi. Give him the jar. He tries to open it for two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes... Then his face turns redder and redder until he explodes, throws the jar at full force on the floor and blasts it. No more jam, no more problems...

Underfell Papyrus - That's the five knives he broke on the lid. He got desperate so he called Undyne. Now he and her are hitting the jar with bones and spears, just screaming. It doesn't do anything. The jar is unbreakable. It's the worst enemy they ever had to fight. Defeated, they give you back the jar. You tried one more time, turning it the other way. It opens. ... Edge collapses on the floor and refuses to move ever again.

Horrortale Sans - He's so confused when you arrive in the room and asks for his axe. He trusts you so it gives it to you. You start to hit a poor jar of jam again and again and he's just staring, wondering if he's hallucinating again or not. He assumes he's hallucinating because what kind of idiot wouldn't know you have to turn the lid the other way to open it?

Horrortale Papyrus - He's so judging you. He tries to hide it, but his smile is weird. He's cringing so hard right now. Please let him help you. You hiss at him, covering your jar of jam like your life depends of it. .... Right. Clearly, you're distressed, and won't let him deal with this. He grabs a bone and knocks you out, opens the lid, and then puts it back in front of you like nothing happened.

Swapfell Sans - He's mad at you. You told him to use his claws to open the damn jar and he did. Now two of his claws are broken, and you still insist he uses the other ones. Nox is pissed off and hisses at you angrily, screaming that instead of eating that bullshit full of sugar you can go outside and pick a piece of fruit like a normal person.

Swapfell Papyrus - He is losing it. That's an hour you're screaming at him now, accusing him of gluing the lid to the jar and threatening him of sex abstinence if he doesn't open this shit. He's crying with laughter because he did nothing at all, and it's killing him how you're bad at it. Eventually, he takes pity on you and opens it. You scream back that you know it was open all this time, and throw the lid at his face when he starts cackling again.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He pretends he doesn't know you. He can't believe you can't even open a jar of ham. That's so cringe. You challenge him to do better if he knows so much. He takes it, opens it, and puts it back on the table, staring into your soul the whole time. .... You sit down and take your breakfast in complete silence after that.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You struggle for ten minutes and ask him if he can open it. Coffee gives you the most distressed look ever. It's like you asked him to go fetch the Moon or something. Like it's his last day on Earth, he picks up the jar of jam and tries to open it. It doesn't work. That's way too much pressure and he bursts into panic tears two minutes after that. Wine thinks you're murdering his brother and comes running to end you, only to find two dumbass unable to open some jam. He's cringing so hard.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[eldritch-spouse]

You swear you saw a glint of sadness in his expression. It might be presumptuous to ask but you feel the need to. Turning away from foraging for food, you look up at the god “Protector Saudramar, how has your day been going? You seem… lost in thought.”

He had been staring off for a while now, beyond the sea gently swaying before him, beyond his powers, dominions and virtues soaring dutifully through the skies. Saudramar looked past the clouds and saw the edges of Eden as the annex gently orbited Earth.

There's no words to describe the utter impotence he feels.

To be the pinnacle of perfection as a Protector yet desire so much more, know that he's capable of so much more but completely powerless to take his place amongst the great Fathers and Mothers. Born to see others fit into place like puzzle pieces while he's doomed to push against the walls of his cage.

Nothing he does can fill the void that's been growing in the siadar's very core. Every single day, boiling rage and vicious envy turn him into an increasingly sour shell of his former self. The pain of his own existence grows heavier on his weary shoulders and he retreats into his own mind to avoid putting those who have been entrusted to him at risk.

Most of these sentiments are unleashed in the great battles against Perdition and the Betrayer's growing forces. He has looked the first fiends in the face as he slayed their kin effortlessly, never a hint of fear to be found in his brilliant ocean eyes, just monumental hatred projected onto the abominations created by a rebel.

It was different, this time.

As he held one of those slithering, disgusting, deformed parodies of celestials- It had stared at him. In a way none had before.

It saw him. It saw the real him.

And the way that foul creature laughed in Saudramar's face made him pause.

You and Them are not so different.

It had rasped, bloodied and broken.

You live in the shadows of those that are inferior to you, as did They once.

Look at us now.

Saudramar couldn't kill it. He couldn't even process what was said to him in that moment. He launched the demonic lifeform into the bowels of its own degenerate annex and moved on. But those words, hissed through chipped teeth and a slithering tongue, held only truth, engraved themselves in his soul.

And the realization alone leaves a taste in the Protector's mouth he hasn't been able to wash off.

The Betrayer is a reflection of him.

The very things he's mercilessly slaughtering with others of his cast are no more than unauthorized creations, in an unauthorized annex, designed by a siadar who was also unhappy with their role in the universe.

Except, that one was strong enough to achieve a modicum of their vision, if only just for a glimpse in time. A window of self-fulfilment worth more than an entire existence of conformity.

What is he doing?

...

The sound of your soft voice has Saudramar snapping his gaze towards you, hardened stare gradually receding.

" Lesser. "

He has a complicated view of humanity. As much as he is unbelievably fond of your design, he's also of the opinion that this project was much too ambitious. The fruits of aimless impulse from Creators who, to him, have neither a plan nor a solution for the trouble your kind will eventually brew.

Alas, you are his favorite so far. Saudramar has witnessed many lessers be born and succumb to age, and not one was as captivating as you. He can't place what it is about you yet that's so appealing, but the Protector knows he'd like to keep you closer, the same way some other casts get to perform binding ceremonies with their favored.

You are his chosen.

But Saudramar won't burden you with that.

The god shakes his head.

" Fret not. Do you require my assistance? "

You smile, relieved. " No, my Lord. " There's a pause, you can clearly tell he's upset, and the siadar chides himself for displaying weakness like that to one of his entrusted.

" Was today's battle exhausting? "

He observes you forage idly.

" Never. Every day Perdition suffers the righteousness it deserves, and I am only fueled by its destruction. "

Saudramar squats when you look into his eyes. A pallid, beautiful hand reaches out, brushing over yours. One set of eyes studies the contrast, another keeps your attention on him.

" Not once shall the filth of the impure taint your sight. The land you step upon is under my protection, and harm will fall upon those who conceive of desecrating it. "

You hold onto his hand with both of yours, and Saudramar feels his chest blossom with a sensation that chases away the thunder in his soul for the briefest of moments.

" Can we cook for you tonight, Protector? " You offer, and Saudramar is thankful no one else is around to see the way he bleeds adoration through his stare.

" Of course, my lesser. "

He will have to hide you away from the seraphim this upcoming Spring, the though of you paired to another lesser is displeasing at best. None of the males here are of enough quality to impregnate you. You are exemplary, a perfect specimen.

Saudramar will protect you.

That's one thing he'll always be able to do, no matter what the future may bring.

" Now, finish. Night will fall soon. "

#Krulu oc #tce rp ask

[luveline]

For zombieau requests, before r and steve make it to the college, the story of their first kiss?

thank you for your request <3 first kisses are confusing. fem!reader 2k

The beam of your flashlight is weak and stuttering. Steve has somehow managed to fix it for you yet again, but he's no miracle worker. Or, that's what he'd said. 

It feels rather miraculous to you. Nearly everything he does delights you these days, even his chastening snips. 

"You'll run down the battery." 

You look at him through the beam. He's wearing a simple short sleeved t-shirt, much more skin than you're used to seeing on display. His muscles shift under skin as he pulls back his hair. 

You let the encyclopaedia you'd been reading shut with a soft thud. "Did you know that our solar system orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy? We're spinning double." 

"That sounds sickly." 

You smile at him and put the book back in your bag. 

You ruffle through your things to get ready to sleep and sigh, irked. "Have you seen my– uh, my leather thingy? The square?" 

He sits up. His movements are distinguished in the quiet, the cotton of his clothes shushing against hardwood floor. Steve knows exactly where the leather square is, fingers slipping inside the pocket of your bag to procure the small zip lock bag you keep it in. 

You grind your teeth in your sleep sometimes, anxiety-driven, and this is the most sanitary solution Steve had been able to think of. 

"You need painkillers?" he asks, offering you the ziplock back. 

"No, not really. Just worried, I guess." You get killer toothache from the teeth grinding, all tenderness. Some days you haven't been able to eat, which is never good in these conditions. "I don't want you to have to pull my tooth one day. That would suck for both of us." 

He claps your wrist loosely, a quick and fond squeeze that genuinely makes your night. Every time he touches you is better than the last. Sometimes, you sit next to him, and you want him to hold your hand so badly it's like you can feel his fingers between yours. 

"If something like that needed to happen, we'd take care of it." 

It's a nice sentiment. In reality, an at-home tooth removal would probably traumatise you, or kill you via infection. 

"Well," you say, softened by his closeness, "lucky you, it's fine. It aches a little, but it's not hurting." 

He reaches into your lap, which is an entire thing, your stomach twists and your eyes widen. The heat of his hand ghosts your thigh as he clicks off the torch. 

You don't put the leather square in your mouth yet. You reach out for his side and use him to navigate the dark, lying down on the blanket beside him, hip to hip. Talking to him in the dark is your favourite part of the day. 

You take your hand back and drape it over your own stomach. It isn't long before Steve's hand is on your hip, not flat or caressing, just there, like it fell there incidentally. 

"What are we gonna do tomorrow?" he asks. 

You feel your eyebrows jump. "I don't know. Same as we always do." 

"If you… wanted to stop, we could stop. We don't have to keep going." 

He sounds tentative, like he's worried about your answer. 

"I would never ask you to stop looking for your friends," you say, trying to work out his angle. 

"I'm not saying stop forever. I just figure we don't need to always be moving. Not when you're…" His teeth click together as he shuts his mouth. 

You turn your head to his face though you can't see him in the dark, not one detail. You're in a small house in the middle of nowhere and the isolation hasn't felt as startling as it does now. 

"When I'm what?" 

"I'm putting you through the wringer." 

You understand what he means. You're not the kind of girl meant for this life, and it could never be his fault, but you're constantly on the road even when there's food for weeks and shelter. He wants to find people, you would never stop him. You're sick often, injured when you're not. 

"I…" You swallow. "I didn't realise I got to call the shots." 

"You do. If you want to stop, we'll stop. We can stay here for a week or two, we have the food for it." 

You're scared of going too far with Steve. While you know he cares about you indisputably, you're afraid —petrified— of his rejection. No matter how sure you are that he likes you, that he wants you, it isn't worth messing up what you have with the wrong assumption. But if you want to stop? That feels like a confession, at least in part. 

"It never mattered to you before," you say. 

True and not true. 

"I know," he murmurs, and you swear he's looking at you too, "I made you follow me around. But I've always taken care of you, haven't I?" 

"You have." 

"And I always will." 

Yeah, when you'd first met, alone and unhappy, he'd let you tag along with him out of duty and nothing else. If you hadn't saved his life, he probably never would have agreed to take you with him, because he has a fierce loyalty to the people he loves. If you got in the way of his finding Robin, there was a time when he would have left you behind. 

That time period was remarkably short, to his credit. He warmed to you reluctantly and then less so. And now he touches you all the time, your face and your neck and your hips. He zips up your coat for you because the cold makes your fingers shake, and he lets you sleep in the dip of his lap with your arms around his back, and he says nice things when you're not expecting them. When you lost weight at the beginning, he was concerned, and when you said you had it to lose, he was disbelieving. He keeps the good shampoo for you. He smiles when you talk, now. All these flags. 

His hand opens against your hip. You feel it unfurl, and the gentle thrust of him offering it to you. 

Steve works your hands together. Just like that. One of those perfect wood joints where the seams disappear, two hands linked together tightly, like they were made to hold one another. 

"Does the leather really help?" he asks. 

"I think so," you say, wanting more than anything to rest your face against his naked bicep. 

"Maybe you have a locked jaw, or something." 

"Maybe I do. Know any chiropractors?" 

"No," he says, tip of his thumb roving over the meat of yours, like he's marking down the lines of your skin. "I could try it." 

You laugh nervously. "I'm alright." 

"You don't think I could fix it?" 

"Not really, Steve." 

"That's offensive." 

"Letting you mess up my jaw rather than offend you, though?" you tease. 

"Is it bad right now?"

You make a curious sound as he sits up. "No, I already told you, it's fine." You feel rather than see him looking down at you. When his free hand touches your shoulder, you breathe out. "Steve?" 

"It's not gonna hurt if I try to kiss you?" 

You still under his soothing hand. His fingers brush up the length of your neck. 

"No, it won't hurt," you choke out. 

He leans down slowly, his hair tickling your forehead, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips and chin like a wave. 

"Are you sure?" he asks. 

You don't even think he's flirting. 

"It won't hurt," you say. "Please." 

He slips his fingers under your head and encourages you up toward him just a little. You close your eyes despite the pitch dark as he closes the gap, your breath shuddering against his lips as they find yours. He kisses you once and indulgently, a soft and searching thing, the pad of his thumb rubbing a  trembling arc under your jaw. 

You're still holding hands. Your fingers flex in his and reaffirm, worried he's going to pull away, that this moment will end too soon. 

He cushions your head with his hand and kisses deeper. At this angle you have to twist yourself to meet him, and you're quick to do so, kissing back with a shy ardency — you want to kiss him more than anything but you don't have a clue what you're doing. 

Like he can tell, he slows, and the tips of your noses touch as he pulls, nudging your nose until you lift your chin.

"Just–" His thumb strokes your throat again, saying more than he does physically. "Just kiss me," he encourages gently. 

You nod and almost bite him as he moves in again, too enthusiastic, maybe, your eager hand in his hair and your fizzing lips under his enough to make him smile. 

He's soft. He's warm. Your heart spins, hurtles. The earth orbits the sun, and the sun, the whole solar system, orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy at almost a million kilometres an hour. Steve's weight against your chest and his fond kisses: you swear you can feel it, you can feel the orbit, the spinning. You're dizzy with it. 

A sound disturbs the peace, ripping all the sweetness from the air in a millisecond. 

Steve flinches up, hand cradling the back of your head. He pulls the other free from your panicked fingers and grabs your shoulder like it might protect you from whatever it is that's coming. 

A silence ensues, the two of you waiting for another sound. 

"Probably an animal," he says. 

"Yeah," you say, heart racing. 

"It's late. You should try and get some sleep." 

You nod though he can't see it, heartbroken as he takes back his hands, as he settles again in the place where he'd been. Your hand feels strange without his fingers filling the empty spaces. 

"Don't forget your mouth guard," he whispers. 

You search the floor beside your impromptu bed for the ziplock bag, find it, and peel it open. You slot the leather between your bad teeth at the back and sigh, disappointed and exhausted and, somewhere underneath it all, excited.

"Steve," you mumble, disrupting the stifling awkwardness between you, "I want to keep going." What was it he'd said? He always takes care of you? "You know I'll follow you anywhere." 

"I know. I want you to have the choice." 

You do as he'd done, your open hand an offering over his hip. He draws lines in your palm with two fingertips before weaving his fingers through yours. You tighten your grip. 

If it's a choice, you’ll choose Steve. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[virtualgirladv]

What's your worst take?

Like how am I meant to know? Everything I think in general I probably think is normal until proven otherwise. Or if I think it then I must think I'm right and everyone is wrong.

Gonna list some random things that I often disagree with people about and y'all can figure out which is the worst take.

People care too much about other people's kinks and need to actually enjoy sex for once

GLaDOS is a milf

You should make friends with people who like stuff your ehh about, keeps you from being a fascist

Cold pepperoni pizza is great

You should have friends that are very different age from you, keeps you from being a prude of a boomer and younger people need adults they can talk to about life without judgement because we're social beings and the world is fucking hard without experience and guidance

Puns are great

You should say you love your friends more, it isn't weird fuck you

Y'all can't put sriracha on everything, try other sauces sometime. Different ones compliment different foods. Also Huy Fong sriracha, the roster one everyone knows, is mid af now try another brand

It's okay to be picky just don't be a cunt about it, this applies to everything, even dating, even friendships, even family, everything

Tumblr is only good cause the decade of community, it'd be better if they all just like moved to cohost or something

People play EDH too slow or make generally unfun decks often

You should like pay artists if you can, you'll get the best stuff you'll love forever out of it

I love Linux but it isn't for everyone so stop recommending it for every problem

You should lie to your landlord

Chips should be crunchy, fuck those wafer thin shits they try and sell you

Charities shouldn't need to exist, it's a sign of a problem, not a solution

Being rude to someone being an asshole is valid af, people who don't respect others don't deserve respect

Cargo pants are fucking great

You should be cringe on purpose to kill the weak and vain

No one has the same gender, it's fucking free form art

Triple A games suck so much 99% of the time, the file off all the potential to general appeal

Indie films will either be the most amazing or worst thing you've seen and that's good

Pop music isn't a genre, its a business model

Fuck grammar and spelling. You fucking know what people are saying. We've done this for millennias. Cuntwaffle and yeag aren't "real" words but you know exactly what I mean

You're a cunt if you don't at least try to say someone's name correctly, like deserve to go to hell shit

#vga.ask #virtualgirladv #I'm sleepy #anonymous

[prince-liest]

oh my god…. prince……. you can’t do this to me. you’re saying next fic has vox getting fucked, focuses on vox’s transness (AH), AND ALSO HES ON THE OFF SEE SAW OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH VAL?????? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEE?!!?!!????? I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY COMBUST. and bc another anon asked abt how alastor views the violence in voxval’s relationship, i have Another thought on the matter. as much as alastor looks down on vox, they can be Very similar sometimes. they are both egomaniacs and very prideful. i don’t think vox, without outside interference, would ever ADMIT that the violence he faces is 1) something he truly hates AND 2) out of his control. he can’t admit he hates it, because then why isn’t he stopping it? that would be admitting to not being powerful enough or strong enough. and hello, 50’s toxic masculinity coming through, he CANT be a victim of domestic violence. he’s a powerful, rich, and important man. it all comes down to perceived weakness. so, the solution is to pretend he’s mostly fine with it. sure, he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment, but i don’t think he’d ever let himself take it seriously. because then he has to start drawing lines in the sand, and what happens then? will val look down on him? will he lose val? yeah, he is not risking that over a problem he mostly refuses to acknowledge exists. and as you said, this is all happening in the setting of hell, where ultra violence IS the norm, and vox himself is excessively violent. it’s the most delicious 50 layer cake of fucked up-ness.

RANT ASIDE THO. i have a question. 2. do you ever plan on having vox interact with the hotel crew outside of angel? ANDDDD what would charlie’s reaction be to their friendship/situationship/ kinda love affair. i think she could add SOOOOO much hilarity and Intense Emotions to this series. not that the boys haven’t been doing their part in that so far. charlie just intensifies everything she does, god bless her. -🌓

The "getting fucked" bit and the trans conversation bit are directly related to and relevant to each other, and frankly I'm just very happy to be out here writing the specific flavors of deeply queer shenanigans that I'm writing, and to have people actively enjoy that. It genuinely means a lot to me that I've strayed so goddamn far out of the bounds of good old top/bottom yaoi archetypes that introduced me to fandom and yet have a wildly enthusiastic audience nonetheless. So, that was my long way of saying that you bring me a lot of fucking joy, anon, hahaha.

As for everything you're saying about Vox, power, and masculinity: YOU! points dramatically at you YOU GET IT! YOU GET IT!!!!!! Everyone just read this, this is it, this is the thing. I have no notes to add. There is a reason that the main point he raises the moment he actually says something vulnerable about it (before he immediately cuts himself off) is a complaint that he's an overlord, so why—?

And with regards to your questions: I'm not gonna lie, my actual planning for 666 is usually, like, extremely by the seat of my pants. I plan nothing except, "Oh, shit, had an idea for the next one. Lesgoooo—" and that's been the case for literally every single installment. It's all just been evolving naturally and building on top of itself. So! I can't say that I plan to have Vox interact with the hotel crew or Charlie, but I also will never say that I'm actively opposed to it.

That said, I do think a lot of this fic is kinda structured around hitting specific topics that come up in intimate settings between Vox and Alastor specifically, with occasional tag-ins from Angel Dust, so I don't really know if there's anything in particular I'd like to write that I think would work better in this series if more characters got involved. But, hey! Never say never!

#ask #personal #half moon anon #long post #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #666 live on air #I do agree with you I adore Charlie and in particular I adore her weird relationship with Alastor #actually before I decided to not make this COMPLETELY unhealthy I had a very very different idea for how to write the rut fic #involving basically Alastor getting pressured and also compulsory allonormativity-ing himself into having sex with Vox #and THAT outline DID involve abso-fucking-lutely everybody sticking their noses into the situation in deep deep alarm #Charlie Angel Husk and even fucking Lucifer showed up #but uh that was also the version of this series that ended with the radiostatic relationship pretty well nuked so #ended up NOT writing the “bad end” edition LOL #maybe one day I'll write it as an AU or something when I feel like upsetting absolutely everyone including myself #my writing #nsft

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Emotional Breakdowns- Pillarmen Headcannons

In your moments of vulnerability, they'd care for you in their distinct ways.

Santana

He's seen this coming a mile away. Your shoulders are tense, your breathing has gotten heavy, and you've been stomping up and down the place for the past two weeks. He's come to understand that killing problems doesn't exactly work in this time, so he waits until you're ready to face things.

He analyses quickly, and can easily find at least six possible approaches to the problem within one minute of hearing it. But those solutions often come before you're quite done working through your emotions. But Santana is nothing if not adaptable, so he gets much better with time. And if you just need a shoulder to cry on, he can do that too.

"As long as my presence helps, I will stay with you."

Wamuu

Did he act dishonourably to you as of late? He would never do that. He was sure there was no tension between you two directly, but there was still something wrong. He'll try to ease it out of you every minute you're alone together. If there was one thing he could tell about someone, it was when they were coiled to strike. It isn't healthy to stay like that for too long. It wears on weak and strong spirits alike.

At last, he offers training together- it's helpful to him, after all. But it doesn't go as well as it normally does. Your form is off- you can't focus-every punch becomes less coordinated. You eventually fall to the floor, a mess of sweat, tears and many different kinds of pain. He kneels, kissing the top of your head and kneading your shoulders. He doesn't understand why human interaction has to become so complicated (or how to best navigate it), but he can be there to see you through it. He and his all-encompassing hugs.

"You will overcome this, little warrior."

Esidisi

Your snappishness and irritation hurt him deeply. Where is his ray of sunshine? Why won't you talk to him? He tries so very hard to get you to open up, eyes brimming with confusion and pain. And when you see his genuine concern, you can't hold it back anymore. You pace, shout and go on righteous rants about the situation together. There's no need to explain what you're feeling. He understands, and doesn't feel for you, but with you.

If your final release needs to be through crying, he becomes the most affectionate of all. He'll wrap his arms around you and kiss every tear of yours away while his own flow down your skin. You've both...just about forgotten you needed to deal with the problem, but that will get done another day. In that moment, you're being cuddled as Esidisi does everything in his power to see that smile again.

"My light, let me bear your pain."

Kars

He gets irritated. You both came to the understanding that communication was needed for this to work. Why weren't you upholding your end of the bargain? But he restrains himself. Humans are delicate creatures- his love even more so. He can be patient.

Once you're ready to talk to him, he clears his entire schedule to ensure you're watched over by the only one he trusts to do so- himself. After letting you cry as much as you needed to, he sits with you and methodically runs through what comes to his mind. Some of his solutions are...less than ethical, to say the least. And it gets exhausting for you to think through them all. But as a way forward reveals itself, relief replaces the fatigue. At the end of things, he spoils you with the best gifts money can buy.

"I will not have you managing such things alone, beloved.

#jjba #x reader #reader insert #fluff #jjba wamuu #kars #esidisi #santana jjba #angst #light angst

[cybertron-after-dark]

How would tfp bots and cons react if their human s/o lost their glasses or contact lenses and can't see very well and almost walked into an unsafe area and got hurt?

Ayyyy first ask! That was actually pretty fast. I'm just gonna go with the main bots and cons for now, but if you see someone who isn't there that you'd really like in the same scenario, feel free to ask for them in a part two! That goes for any future (or past) headcanon lists too!

-Optimus would try to keep himself composed, panicking will only make the situation way, way worse, and he trusts that you're capable of fending for yourself. But when you almost get yourself killed, he asks that maybe you should just ride in his cab or let him carry you to get where you need to go, or at least let one of the humans guide you. At least until you can get your glasses replaced. He won't force you, but it breaks his heart seeing you in such a vulnerable position.

-Bumblebee starts off laughing when you bump into things, and of course it's all in good fun at first, but pretty soon you damn near land yourself in the hospital and he's not laughing anymore. He transforms and keeps you in his cab with his doors locked for like an hour after the incident, and only lets you go when you swear up and down it's not gonna happen again. He keeps a pretty close eye on you after that.

-Arcee doesn't really grasp that this is an actual problem for you until you narrowly avoid actual, serious injury. Once the gravity of having lost one of your senses nearly entirely sets in, she's on high alert, constantly swooping in to stop anything that could spell disaster before it happens. She's treating this like a mission, because as long as your wellbeing is at risk, it is. She eventually thinks to get you a stick to feel around with before walking so you don't, like, fall off the catwalk in case she isn't watching (she doesn't really know that white canes exist, she's kind of improvising here)

-Bulkhead at suggests maybe you should just sit back for awhile and watch a movie until he realizes oh yeah, scrap, you can't really watch much of anything right now. Dammit. Still, after the incident where you nearly ended up half dead or worse, he nearly feels his spark go out he's so panicked. The big guy keeps a hold on you, blubbering inelegantly about how much he needs you to stay with him, to stay safe, how he doesn't know how he'd live with himself if you got hurt on his watch.

-Ratchet thinks the best solution would be to put you in stasis until your external optic aids can be sufficiently replaced, but upon being informed that's not really an option for humans, and even if it was you wouldn't really want to be knocked out for that long, he's kind of put in helicopter mode, because what the hell do you mean you're stumbling around without your vision? When you nearly get hurt he kinda just decides "yep. That's it. You're staying in the ambulance." And refuses to let you out unless it's totally necessary. If you tell him to step off, or that you REALLY need some time away from him, he'll let you out, but insist another bot keep watch so you don't die.

-Megatron is honestly just frustrated that you're out of commission. He has enough problems and now he can't even count on his own partner? Disappointing. He doesn't really care if you nearly get yourself killed, if you die from something so painfully stupid, you weren't fit to live. Harsh.

-Starscream is laughing his ass off. Unlike Bumblebee, he makes it pretty clear he's laughing at you, not with you, because, tragically, Screamer is an asshole. Nearly hurting yourself does stop his laughing, but only because now he's bragging left and right about how he so heroically saved you from the jaws of death while you were oh so weak and vulnerable, and how he totally deserves a reward for such an act of selflessness ;)

-Soundwave doesn't think much of it, just tries to keep an optic on you more than usual. He figures your sight's off, but it can't be THAT bad. Then you nearly stumble straight into death and well, would you look at that, it IS that bad. From then on he offers to let you ride on Laserbeak, or, if that's not viable, he lets you hold onto one of his data cables and acts as a 25 foot guide dog. Either way, he's pretty much constantly letting off white noise so you can always tell where he is.

-Shockwave lets you just kick back in his lab for a bit. He has vision problems too, given he only has one optic, so he can sympathize (as much as shocker is capable of sympathizing, anyway). Though clearly your sight is significantly worse. If you nearly get hurt, he'll drop what he's working on for a moment to make you a new set of glasses right there in the lab. Chances are, they'll work better than your usual pair, but they'll also be way bigger and clunkier.

-Knockout just feels bad for you. Losing your vision is no joke, even when you're a bot with other, more advanced senses to navigate the world, let alone a human without such advantages. When you nearly hurt yourself, he does some research on how humans cope with a lack of eyesight and learns about white canes that let you know what you're walking into before you walk into it, so he quickly procures one for you until you can get new glasses. Though he does take the liberty of decorating it for you before he surprises you with it.

-Poor Breakdown already has such a hard time keeping track of you. You're so tiny and he's so big and his chest gives him a serious blindspot that he just can't find you in, so now that he NEEDS to keep track of you or you might get hurt, he's in full panic mode and time you aren't in his field of view. Most of the time he has you just ride on his shoulder or in the back of his altmode. He can't stand the thought of you getting yourself killed if he could prevent it.

#tfp #transformers prime #optimus #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee #ratchet #megatron #starscream #soundwave #shockwave #knockout #breakdown #maccadam

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Good God, Y'all

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

Bobby, wearing a bathrobe and ball cap, sits in a wheelchair and stares out the window. Sam and I watch him from the doorway until Dean arrives with a manila envelope in hand. "It's been like three days now?" Dean said, questioning, and Sam sighs as I nod. Ever since Bobby found out he wouldn't be able to walk again, he hasn't really been talking to either of us. "We got to cheer him up." I said.

"Maybe I'll give him a backrub." Dean said. "Dean." Sam said, exasperated. "Well, what, then?" Dean asked, annoyed. "Look...we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time." Sam said and I look at the envelope in Dean’s hand, which says X-Ray.

"What's in the envelope?" I asked him. "Went to radiology." Dean said and he opens the envelope and pulls out the contents. "Got some glamour shots." he said and he hands me and Sam the contents of the envelope, which is a chest X-ray with strange writing on the ribs.

"Let's just say the doctors are baffled." Dean said as Sam and I examine the writing, which is in Enochian. "Holy crap." Sam mutters. "Yeah, well, Cas carved you one, too." Dean said then he looks over at me. And I'm sure Ariel carved you." Dean said and Sam's phone rings.

"Hello? ...Castiel?" Sam answered and I look over at Dean. "Speak of the devil." I said and he nods. "Ah, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?" Sam said then he hangs up his phone.

Minutes later, Castiel walks up to us. "Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?" Dean asked him. "You're hidden from angels now—all angels. I won't be able to simply—" Castiel started to say until Bobby speaks up. "Enough foreplay." Bobby yells and we looked over at him.

"Get over here and lay your damn hands on." Bobby demanded but nobody moves and Bobby looks over at us over his shoulder. "Get healing. Now." he yelled. "I can't." Castiel said and Bobby turns his chair to face Castiel. "Say again?" he asked, angrily,  and Castiel walks up to him. "I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't." he informed.

"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" Bobby asked, angrily. "I'm sorry." Castiel said. "What about Ariel?" I asked Castiel, who looks over at me. "She's...weak, pretty much like me." Castiel said. "Well, you and her can shove it up your ass." Bobby growls at Castiel then turns back to the window.

"At least he's talking now." Dean said as he turns to us. "I heard that." Bobby yelled and Castiel comes up to us. "I don't have much time. We need to talk." he said. "Okay." Dean said. "Your plan to kill Lucifer." Castiel said. "Yeah. You want to help?" Dean asked. "No. It's foolish. It can't be done." Castiel said, shaking his head slightly. "Oh. Thanks for the support." I said, sarcastically. 

"But Ariel and I believe we have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse." Castiel said. "Who's that?" Sam asked. "The one who resurrected me and Ariel and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God." Castiel said and Sam, Dean and I give each other skeptical looks. "I'm gonna find God." Castiel said and Dean closes the hospital room door and turns back to him.

"God?" I asked, disbelieving. "Yes." Castiel said. "God." Dean said, in a similar disbelieving tone as mine. "Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere." Castiel said. "Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla." Dean joked. "No, he's not on any flatbread." Castiel said, obviously not taking the joke.

"Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—" Dean said but Castiel speaks over him. "He is out there, Dean." he said, firmly. "—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us." Dean said and Castiel glares. "I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?" Dean said.

"Enough. This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win." Castiel said. "It's a pipe dream, Cas." Dean said and Castiel advances on him. "Ariel and I killed two angels this week. Our brothers. Both of us are hunted. We rebelled. And we did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You, your brother and your friend destroyed the world and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself." Castiel said to Dean, angrily, and Sam and I look down in defeat at this

"You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?" Bobby asked him. "I did come for something. An amulet." Castiel said. "An amulet? What kind?" I asked as I look up at him. "Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him." Castiel replied. "A God EMF?" Sam asked and Castiel nods.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that." Bobby said. "I know. You don't." Castiel said then he looks at Dean and he drops his gaze a bit then looks back up. Dean looks down at himself and gestures to his amulet. "What, this?" Dean asked.

"May I borrow it?" Castiel asked. "No." Dean said, firmly. "Dean. Give it to me." Castiel demanded and Dean stays silent for a moment, thinking, then takes off the amulet. "All right, I guess." he said and he holds it out then pulls back when Castiel reaches for it. "Don't lose it." he said and Castiel takes it.

"Great. Now I feel naked." Dean grumbles. "I'll be in touch." Castiel said and Dean nods then glances at me and Sam then back to see Castiel is gone. "When you find God, tell him to send legs!" Bobby yells into the air and I sigh at this.

Sometime later, Bobby's phone rings and he picks it up. "Hello? I can't hear you." Bobby said into his phone, his brow furrowed. "Where are you? Colora—Colorado? River Pass, Colorado?" Bobby asked,  almost like he was having a hard time hearing the person at the other end.

The boys and I share a look as Bobby said. "Rufus? You there? Ruf—Rufus?" Then he pulls the phone away and turns to look at us, concern and fear etched over his face.

We drive up to the bridge then stop just short of the part of the bridge that isn't there. The boys and I get out for a closer look and I kick a rock over the edge. It looks difficult enough to get a person across with any margin of safety; getting the car across looked like it will be impossible. "This is the only road in or out." I said and Sam pulls out his cell phone and holds it up. "No signal." he notes.

"Rufus was right. Demons got this place locked down." Dean said and Sam sighs. "Looks like we're hiking in." Sam said. "And the hits just keep on coming." Dean said, upset, and I pat his stomach. "Eh, you need the walking, get rid of all the burgers you've eaten." I joked. "Oh, gee, thanks. I love you too, sweetheart." Dean said, sarcastically, and I stick my tongue out at him as we go around the Impala and he opens the trunk.

We walk along the street, carrying guns and bags and scanning the area. The near side of the street has a sporting goods store advertising ammo, rods and reels, and a thirty percent sale for Pioneers Day; the far side is residential. There is no sign of anyone other than me and the boys.

Dean goes to examine a blue two-door sedan that is overturned in the street. Sam approaches the car from the far side, gun ready. But then he shakes his head: the car's empty. They straighten up and we move on. A sprinkler is running in front of one of the houses, whatever happened to clear the area happened fast enough that no one turned it off.

There was another car in the street, this one tan and the right way up. The driver's door is open, the engine is running, and the radio playing Spirit in the Sky. We approach this car, guns ready but it's empty and Sam turns the engine off and we walk on. We pause at a gleaming red classic Mustang. I lose interest when I see it's empty; Dean admires it for a moment and whistles.

Something sparks at the gas station, a driver's door of a silver four-door stands open while also a large hole in the windshield, a baby stroller next to the door and a great deal of blood in front of and leading away from the door. The boys and I approach, then scan the area again. 

We hear a gun cock behind us and we turn, leveling our shotguns but immediately lower them. "Ellen?" Sam said as we look at Ellen, who had a gun aimed at us. "Hello, boys and (y/n)." She greets as she lowers her gun and walks closer to us.

"Ellen, what the heck's going on here?" Dean asked but then Ellen splashes Dean in the face with holy water and raises her gun. Dean closes his eyes for a moment, letting Ellen see that the water is neither boiling nor burning him. "We're us." Dean said and Ellen lowers her gun and walks between us to the church.

We get closer to the church and I noticed the line of salt across the threshold. We all walked over it, no problem, and I look over my shoulder, once inside, to see the Devil's Trap was drawn inside the doorway.

"Real glad to see you three." Ellen said to us as she turns to face us then she hugs Dean, pulls back and slaps him. "Ow!" Dean exclaimed in pain. "The can of whoopass I ought to open on you. You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind? I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?" Ellen asked, angrily. "Sorry, Ellen." Dean said, apologetically.

"Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid." She demanded. "Yes, ma'am." Dean said then she turns around to lead us further inside. Dean glances back at me and Sam, I shrug, and we follow her down the stairs.

"What's going on, Ellen?" I asked her. "More than I can handle alone." She replied. "How many demons are there?" I asked. "Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys." Ellen said as she stops at the closed door and turns back.

"So, this is it, right? End times?" She asked and the boys and I share a glance. "It's got to be." she said. "Seems like it." Sam said then Ellen turns to the door and knocks on it. "It's me." she said and the peephole opens, where we see a pair of eyes looking at us then it shuts and the door opens, letting us inside.

There was a good amount of people inside. A pastor, an older man, a young man with his arm around a pregnant woman, a short-haired man, a long bearded man, a man with glasses, a young woman and a shaggy-haired man. The man that opened the door for us goes to shut it then stands next to a bookshelf, holding a rifle.

"This is Sam, Dean and (y/n). They're hunters. Here to help." Ellen said. "You guys hip to this whole demon thing?" the man, that opened the door for us, asked. "Yeah. Are you?" Dean asked. "My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal." the shaggy-haired man said and he brings his right hand to his chin, contemplating his ring.

"All right, catch us up." Dean said to Ellen as he turns to her. "I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby—" Ellen explains and I furrow my brow. "You're hunting with Jo?" I asked her. "Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place—well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you." she replied. 

"Don't worry, we'll find her." Dean said. "Either way, these people cannot just sit here." Sam said as the pregnant woman startles and the shaggy-haired man plays with his ring. "We got to get them out now." Sam said. "No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once." Ellen said. 

"What happened?" I asked her. "There used to be twenty of us." she said and we check the room, excluding me, the boys and Ellen, there were only ten people left. "Well, there's four of us now—" Dean said but Ellen shakes her head. "You don't know what it's like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody." she said.

"What if we get everyone guns?" Sam suggested. "What, are you gonna arm up baby bump over here?" Dean asked him as he gestures to the nervous looking pregnant woman. "More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away." Sam said and Dean glances at him then me.

"There's a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns." he said and we drop our bags. "All right. You stay. We'll go." Sam said to Ellen. "What about—" Ellen started to say but I say. "If Jo and Rufus are out there, we'll bring them back." 

The rifle carrying man opens the door and we leave but then Dean holds out a hand. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Hold on." he said and we stop at the foot of the stairs. "Why don't (y/n) and I just go?" Dean said. "What?" Sam asked, disbelieving. Well, somebody's got to stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101." Dean said. "Yeah. Ellen." Sam said and he stqrts to go upstairs but Dean reaches out to stop him.

"No no no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?" Dean said. "While you two go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid." Sam said. "We can handle it." Dean said and I look between the boys while Sam pauses.

"You don't want me going out there." He said, realizing. "I didn't say that." Dean said. "Around demons." Sam said. "I didn't say that." Dean said, again. "Fine, then let's go." Sam said, sternly, and he heads upstairs.

We walk outside and to the streets when Sam turns to us. "I'll get the salt. You two get the guns." he said. "We'll go together." Dean said. "Dean, it's right there. Can we at least do this like professionals?" Sam asked and I sigh. "For the love of God, I'll go with Sam. Dean, you can get the guns." I said and Dean gives me a look that said are you sure? I nod and Sam and I raise our guns anguns and for the Quick-Mart at the corner of St. Olaf and Riverside. 

"You know, I don't need a babysitter, (y/n)." Sam said, sounding a bit annoyed. "I know you don't, Sam, but...I guess...your brother and I are just worried about you. Well, I think your brother is more worried, maybe scared." I said, shrugging. 

“He’s scared I’m gonna start another apocalypse?” Sam asked, with sarcasm in his tone. “That’s not what I meant.” I replied, a little bit annoyed. “We can’t work like this. I know I screwed up and broke his trust. But I can’t do anything without you or him watching me.” Sam said. “I know, I’ll talk to him when this is all over.” I said. “Like he’s gonna listen.” Sam grumbled. 

“Sam.” I said, exasperated. “Sorry it’s just everything going on between us. It’s all so frustrating. Maybe it would be better that I leave.” Sam suggested. “What? Why would you think that?” I asked. “I feel like Dean is judging me every time he looks at me. I can’t even breathe around him without setting him off.” Sam explained. “Just give him time.” I said.

“You know Dean, we’ll be waiting till hell freezes over.” Sam said. “Sam your his little brother. Despite everything that has happened, your still his brother. He cares about you and he doesn’t want to lose you.” I said. Sam look over at me and I gave him a reassuring smile. “He’ll come around. Like I said, just give him time.” I said as we enter the store.

Sam and I fill up a couple of plastic bags with cans of rock salt when we hear the door chime. We pause and stand up to see two black-eyed demons have entered, one carrying a baseball bat and the other a backpack. We duck and find the mirror to watch them.

Sam's shotgun is sitting on top of a row of Campbell's cans while I hold up my shotgun. Sam reaches for it and draws the attention of the demon collecting bottles of water, who rushes at him. "Sam!" I exclaimed as they fight, slamming each other into shelves. I go to raise my gun when the second demon slams me down the on the ground, my gun sliding out of my hands and across the floor.

I try to get up but the demon punched me in the face a couple of time then grabbed my neck and starts to choke me. Then a blade sticks through the demon's neck and a bit of blood spills on my face. I turn my head as the demon dies and is thrown off of me. I look up to see it was Sam and he holds a hand out to me.

I take it and he pulls me up on my feet. "Thanks, Sam." I said but I noticed that Sam was more interested in the blood on the blade. He turns the blade, watching the blood flow, and runs his thumb along the blade, collecting a bit of blood. "Sam." I said to him, warningly, but he doesn't hear me as he continues to stare at the blood.

"Sam!" I shouted and grab his arm and he, finally, turns to face me. His eyes widen at me as I go to take the blade away from him. "Easy there, tiger." I said to him, calmly, as I get the blade away from him then we hear the door chime.

We whip our heads towards the door then duck down and watch the mirror. It was Dean. "Sammy? (y/n)?" He calls out and we stand up. Dean comes into the aisle and sees the demons dead on the floor and the blood dripping off the knife in my hand.

Later, we were training the remaining survivors with guns. "Okay, all right." One of the guys said and Ellen walks up to him. "Roger, hang on a second—" she said but Roger fumbles and drops the shell. "Sorry." he said while Sam and I demonstrate loading a shotgun for the young man and the pregnant woman. "—then snap it in." I instruct them. And I look over and see Dean setting down a rifle to another guy, Austin, who then disassembling the gun.

Later, Sam and I sit in the corner then Dean comes over. "Hey." he said to us. "Hey." Sam and I said and Dean sits down. "What's wrong?" Dean asked him and Sam looks down. "It's just...at the store. Those demons were possessing teenagers. I mean, I had to stab some kid's throat." Sam said.

"Come on, Sam, you had to. That demon had me by the throat." I said to him as I placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know. I just...it used to be like..." Sam said but then pauses. "I just wish I could save people like I used to." he said.

"What, you mean when you were all hopped up on demon blood?" Dean asked him. "I didn't say that." Sam said as we hear footsteps. "I'll be back." Ellen said and we look up to see her standing in front of us.

"Where you going?" I asked her. "I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here." Ellen said and the three of us stand up. "No, wait. I'll go with you." Sam said. "Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?" Dean said and he and Sam leave the room.

Ellen looks over at me. "Is everything okay between them?" She asked me and I sighed. "Alot of things have happened since we saw you last." I said. "That bad, huh?" She asked and I nod just as we heard a scuffle happening. I turn my head and see Sam had slammed Dean into the wall.

"Damn it." I grumble as I run to the boys. "If you actually think I—" he growls and I come up to him and place a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, please." I pleaded and he stops and turns his head to me. He stares at me for a moment then back at Dean before he takes a few steps back and walks back in the room with Ellen.

Sam and Ellen left awhile ago and we were all sitting and waiting. Dean was pacing around the room while the pregnant woman lies on the cot, the young man sitting next to her, the pastor, this older woman, the short-haired man and a young woman sit at the table. Austin stands near them and I was leaning against the wall as I watch Dean pacing.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He layeth me down in green pastures, and he raiseth me up again. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil." The Pastor recites to the people as Dean passes me again for the umpteenth time. "Dean...please sit down. You pacing makes me nervous." I said. "I can't, (y/n). Just...knowing Sam's out there..." Dean grumbles. "Dean, I know he's broken our trust but he has to start on building it back up." I said and Dean turns to me. 

“(Y/n), he pick a demon over us. He started the friggin’ apocalypse!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m aware of this.” I said, calmly. “What? We’re just supposed to hold hands and sing Disney songs together, like the world isn’t falling apart around us because of him?” Dean asked, angrily. “Dean please…” I pleaded, trying to get a word in.

“No! That kid has really screwed up this time. Like Bobby said, this thing doesn’t get forgiven.” Dean said and I glared at him. “That wasn’t even Bobby, that was a demon possessing him!” I yelled. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” Dean replied and I stared at him in disbelief. “You're being ununbelievably dfficult here.” I growled. “Yeah, well, the world is ending, sorry if I’m not in the mood to be nice.” Dean sneered, turning away about to continue his pacing.

“What if it was me?” I asked, suddenly. “What?” Dean asked, stopping and turning to face me again. “What if I was in Sam’s place. Would you treat me like how you’re treating, Sam?” I asked. “I’m not going to answer that.” Dean replied. “Why not?” I asked. “Because it’s ridiculous! You wouldn’t have done what Sam did.” Dean said and I sigh.

“Actually I think I would. I wanted to kill Lilith just as bad a Sam did, maybe even more. I wanted her dead for what she did to you so bad, that I wouldn’t have cared what I would need to do to make it happen. In his place, I would’ve done the exact same thing.” I explained and Dean stares at me.

“So. Would I be on a short leash if I had started the apocalypse instead?” I asked, Dean continued staring at me for a moment and then shakes his head turning away, not giving me an answer. “That’s what I thought.” I mumbled under my breath.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Dean and I startle at this as does everyone. Dean opens the peephole, moves what's blocking the door, and opens the door. Ellen comes in, alone. "Where's Sam?" Dean asked her. Ellen shakes her head and sits down next to the young woman, who passes her a bottle of water. "They took him? Demons took him? Oh my God. What if they're in here? The demons?" the woman asked, panicked.

"Could they get in?" the pastor asked. "No." I said and Dean grabs a shotgun and heads for the door. "Everybody sit tight. We got to—" Dean said but I go over to him and place a hand on his arm. "Dean..." I said, worried, and he stops, looks at me, grimaces then goes over to the table. I follow him. "Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything." he said and we started to think up a plan.

"Dean, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her." Ellen said as her, Dean and I sit at the table sometime later. Then she snorts. "It called me a bitch." she said, upset. "Bruise a little easy, don't you think?" I said, questioning. "No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch." she said and Dean and I share a look.

"What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?" She asked. "The whole thing's off." Dean said. "What's your instinct?" Ellen asked. "My instinct? My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam." Dean said and I nod. "Well, tough. All you two got's me, and all I got's both of  you. So let's figure it out." she said. "All right." Dean and I said and Ellen smiles. 

"Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?" I asked her. "He said something about water. That's all I know." She replied then Dean turns to the pastor. "Padré, you know what she's talking about—the water?" he asked him. "The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden." he replied.

"When?" I asked. "Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day." said the Pastor. "Anything else? Anything." Dean asked. "Maybe, but it's pretty random." he said. "Good. Random's good." I said.

"Shooting star—does that count?" the pastor asked and Dean, Ellen and I look at each other. "Real big. Same night. Wednesday." Austin added. "That definitely counts." Dean said and he stands up and goes to the bookshelf. He brings a Bible back to the table and searches through it.

"So, uh, you think that all this comes from outer space?" Austin asked. "This isn't X-Files, pal." Dean said and he finds the passage he wants and reads it aloud. "And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died." He reads and the Pastor has a look of worry on his face. 

"Revelation eight ten. Are you saying that this is about the apocalypse?" He asked. "You could say. And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?" Dean asked. "The Four Horsemen." The pastor said. "And which one rides the red horse?" Dean asked. "War." the Pastor said and I look at Dean and Ellen.

"That cherry Mustang parked on Main." I said and Ellen nods. "You can't think that a car—" the pastor started to say. "It's the way I'd roll. I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads." Dean said. "Turning us on each other." I said and Dean nods then he turns to Ellen. "You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?" he asked.

"Wait, just back up. It's the apocalypse?" The pastor asked, fearfully. "Sorry, Padré." Dean said and the pastor blinks several times.

"So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy." Austin said, confused. "You believed crazy before." Dean said then someone hammers the door. "Open up! It's Roger!" a voice shouts and Austin checks the peephole and lets Roger in. He's breathing hard, as if he's been running.

"I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one." Roger said, panicked. "Wait wait wait. What?" I asked. "I thought you said there were no demons." Austin said to Dean. "There's not." Dean said and I turn to Roger.

"Where did you go?" I asked him, suspiciously. "I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!" Roger exclaims. "Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?" Dean asked. "We just sit here, we're going to be dead." Austin said and Dean turns to him. "No, we're not!" he shouts.

"They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first." Roger said. "Hold on. Hold on." I said, trying to keep the peace. "No, man, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons." Austin said as he picks up a shotgun and hands it to the young man.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll. This is not a demon thing." Dean said then I noticed that Roger holds up his right hand and twists his ring, then points ttome, Dean and Ellen. "Look at their eyes! They're demons!" he shouts and the pregnant woman gasps and the pastor  raises a shotgun.

"Go, go!" Dean shouts to me and Ellen and we turn and run as I hear a shotgun blast at the door. "Move!" Dean shouts as we run.

*3rd Person POV*

One of the people in the group loads salt canisters into a backpack while Austin loads a shotgun. "Those are real." Roger, or should we say War, said to Austin, questioning. "Those three could have been demons the entire time. All this salt and holy water talk—as far as I'm concerned, it's all crap." Austin said. "Are you sure?" War asked. "It's them or us." Austin said. 

"I think I saw some knives in the kitchen." War tells him. "Great. Go." Austin said as he finishes assembling the gun while War smiles to himself.

Over at the base camp, Rufus ties a wire around the latch on a closed window while Jo holds two bombs. "Hey, Rufus." She said. "Yeah." Rufus said. "Pipe bombs won't kill a demon." Jo said, in a questioning way. Rufus checks the wire; it's attached to another bomb. "Right. But in my experience, demons come at you slower if they're in a body with no limbs." Rufus said then he goes to close the curtains.

"One of them is in my mother." Jo said, upset, and Rufus turns to her. "Jo, listen to me. You know I'm gonna do everything I can. Your mom's gonna be okay." Rufus assures her and Jo nods. "Unless she comes through that window." she said and Rufus holds out a hand then Jo gives him the next bomb.

The church door opens and Austin comes out, scans the area, and holds the door open. "All right, let's move." Austin said and he, the young man and woman and War follow him, all of them holding shotguns.

Jo and Rufus load shotguns when an explosion goes off; Jo and Rufus duck. They look at each other, then ready guns to go have a look. The front room is devastated and empty and Rufus peers through the windows. Someone grabs Rufus and pulls him through the window. "Rufus!" Jo shouts then someone else grabs Jo from behind.

Rufus comes through the window then Dean and (y/n) slam him to the ground. J and Ellen fight until Ellen pins Jo to the wall. "Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle." she said, sternly.

Dean and (y/n) haul Rufus up and slams him against the wall. "Listen to me. We are not demons. Think, Rufus. All those omens." Dean said. "You go to hell." Rufus growls and he kicks Dean in the crotch and before Rufus could do anything else, (y/n) shoves him harder against the wall.

"Rufus! The polluted water, the shooting star, the red Mustang—it's War. I'm telling you, it's War." She yelled at him. "You're damn right it is." Rufus said and he punches (y/n) in the face and goes for the gun but Dean tackles him.

"The Horseman!" Dean yells.

"Horseman?" Rufus asked, confused. "Yes. He's turning us against each other. You're hallucinating." Dean said and Rufus stares at Dean and (y/n), their black eyes fades into their normal eyes.

"The Horseman. War." Rufus said, realization. "Yes." Dean and (y/n) said and Rufus looks to each side. "Did you figure this out all by yourself, genius?" Rufus asked, sarcastically. "Yep, he's back." (Y/n) said.

Dean, (y/n) and Rufus burst inside as Ellen turns and levels a shotgun. "Whoa, whoa!" Dean and (y/n) said and Ellen looks between them. "We all on the same page?" she asked and the trio look at each other and nod.

"Good." Rufus said as Jo walks up behind Ellen. "Hi, Jo." Dean greets as (y/n) waves at her. "Hey." Jo said, waving back. "Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each—" (y/n) started to say until there was gunshots and everyone ducks down.

"Damn it! Where's Sam?" Dean asked. "Upstairs." Rufus said as Ellen gives Jo the shotgun. "Take this." she said and Dean and (y/n) rush in one direction while Ellen went another.

Outside, Austin, who was firing at the house with his rifle, ducks down behind the car, huddling with the others. "All right, you three go around back. Take the alley." Austin instructs.

Dean and (y/n) enter a room to see Sam alone in the room, tied up. "Guys. It's not demons." Sam said. "It's War." all three of them said. "I just can't figure out how he's doing it." Dean said as he cuts Sam free.

"The ring." Sam said. "The ring—that's right. He turned it right before he made everybody hallucinate and go hellbitch." (Y/n) said. "Right." Sam said, nodding, as he gets free from his restraints. "We got to move. Come on." Dean said and the trio run out

Austin exchanges bullets with another young man in an upper window of the house. The older woman crosses herself and folds her hands whole the shaggy-haired manhurries along behind a fence. The young man peers around a corner as anothet man shoots at him; he pulls back, keeping the pregnant behind him. The shaggy-haired man and the other man exchange fire.

"People, cease fire!" Rufus shouts. "Stop shooting! Stop!" Rufus shouts then he takes the gun from the other man and slams him in the head with it. "I'm getting too old for this." he grumbles.

The other young man aims out the window at the Pastor and the young woman, who run to shelter behind a trailer. The Pastor comes out and the young man fires. The bullet goes straight through the Pastor, who falls. "Father!" the young woman screams and she runs out to the Pastor, sobbing.

The other young man fires again and misses, then aims more carefully. Ellen approaches, pressing something to the Pastor's wound and the young woman looks up. "I'm not what you think, honey. Come on, keep this right here." she instructs her.

Rufus comes up behind the other young man, taking his gun. "Stop firing usually means stop firing." Rufus yells then he leaves.

Austin grabs Ellen and throws her down, aiming at her face. He pulls the trigger: out of bullets. Ellen grabs the gun then Austin pulls a knife. Both drop the gun in favor of struggling over the knife.

War walks up to the red Mustang and he looks back over his shoulder and sees nothing. He reaches for the door and Sam, (y/n) and Dean grab him, which makes War laugh. Sam draws Ruby's knife as Dean and (y/n) hold War.

"Whoa. Okay. That's a sweet little knife. But come on. You can't kill war, kiddos." War said. "Oh, we know." Dean said and Sam slams War's right hand against the Mustang and cuts all four fingers off. The ring clinks on the pavement.

Austin calms down and Ellen, who no longer appears black-eyed, eases him off of her. The young man puts his head in his hands. Rufus comes down the stairs and nods at Jo. (Y/n) leans down and picks up the ring and War and the red Mustang are gone which make Sam, (y/n) and Dean look for them.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The boys and I sit at a picnic table while I hold up the ring. "So, pit stop at Mount Doom?" I asked, sarcastically,  and Dean shakes his head. "God, you're a nerd." He mutters while Sam is silent, pensive.

"Guys—" Sam said and Dean shakes his head. "Sam, let's not." Dean said. "No, listen. This is important. I know you guys don't trust me." Sam said and Dean looks away. "Sam..." I whispered and Sam shakes his head a bit.

"Just, now I realize something. I don't trust me either." he said and Dean and I look up. "From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, guys. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse..." Sam said.

"So what are you saying?" I asked him. "I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways." Sam said and I frown at this while Dean considers this.

"Well, I think you're right." he said and Sam looks at him, shocked. "I was expecting a fight." Sam said. "The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now." Dean said and Sam nods. "I'm sorry, guys." Sam said and I frown and place a hand on his hand.

"We know you are, Sam." I said and Sam moves to stand up. "Hey, do you, uh, wanna take the Impala?" Dean asked him. "It's okay." Sam said and he stands up, takes a few steps, and turns back.

"Take care of yourself, guys." Sam said and I felt some tears run down my cheeks. "Yeah, you too, Sammy." Dean said. "Be safe." I said to Sam and he nods. "You too." He said and he walks to the Impala, grabs his backpack out of the back seat, and walks over to the pickup truck parked nearby. He says something inaudible to the driver and gets in the passenger side. The truck drives off.

Dean and I watch it go and I wipe the tears off of my face.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #supernatural dean #dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #fantasy #horror #tv show fandom #tv shows #tv series #tv

[nevraeldarya]

Rheas, Poseidonas’, & Aidoneus’ thoughts on the curse placed on demi-gods due to hera killing Lamias children?

and the fact that even after all this time she hasn’t felt remorse once since the spell is still in effect

Tbh none of the brothers care about the demigods beside Rhea and Nico.

They just think about how pathetic and weak must this Hera be to not be able to cut this Zeus dick off and call it a day. Or why can't she curse all women in the world to not be able to carry Zeus spawns specifically.

Cause despite not being able to get out of that marriage there are literally solutions there, you're the goddess of women and you couldn't think of one curse that will prevent Zeus kids from being born ???

Rhea also thinks that Hera is a moron, I'm sorry but if one of your husband's lover is a sorceress TURNING HER INTO A MONSTER AFTER KILLING HER KIDS IS FOOLISHNESS !

I never understand why they curse humans into monsters ? Like WHY ? You want them to suffer ? Ok The field of punishment is right there ! Turning them into a monster just gives them more power for goodness sake.

Its no secret that Rhea thinks the gods are a bunch of morons and toddlers with too much power in their hands.

The brothers gives them the SIDE EYE cause for gods who say "we can't intervene with mortal lives" they sure as hell intervene a LOT.

And Aidoneus is extremely disappointed into this Hera not that he had good expectations to begin with.

#ttsitsol #nevraeldarya #record of ragnarok #percy jackson fanfiction #ror x pjo #ao3 fanfic

[bluegekk0]

You refer to Grimm as a vampire, do you just mean aesthetically or does he actually drink blood? If it's the latter did any of the kids inherit Grimms vampirism?

He actually does, yeah! Well, he's not your traditional vampire, he doesn't actually have to drink blood to survive, and he can eat other food with no consequences.

The reason is probably a little convoluted, but if you ignore logic then I think it makes some sense (he's a god, he doesn't really have to be realistic haha). The heart in his physical body serves as both a blood pump, and a "battery" for his powers. Because The Nightmare Heart, the actual source of his power, is weakened after his banishment from The Gods' Plane, that means that his physical body has a limited lifespan before he has to replace it (which happens during the ritual). The double function of his body's heart plays a role in that - his heart is a bit weak, it can't pump all the blood it's supposed to, since it also has to be a mini-source of his powers.

Normally that wouldn't bother him. Since he used to travel a lot, rituals were just part of that life, he could check it off the list whenever it was convenient. But since he now has a family, he wants to spend as much time with them as he can before his physical body decays and he has to leave to replace it. Drinking blood is a temporary solution - his body can absorb the blood into its system, relieving the heart of some of its duties, which in turn keeps the body going for longer. He can't do it indefinitely, the body will inevitably decay with or without blood, but it allows him to stay with his loved ones for a longer time before he has to get a new body.

At the same time, he, well, simply enjoys the taste. He has no issue with killing others, he's not exactly the type to worry about the morality - he's a god, he can do what he wants. So hunting for blood is both a necessity (if he wants to keep his body for a longer time) and something he enjoys doing. Of course, it's very convenient for him to target criminals since they wouldn't exactly be missed, so you can mistake it for some kind of vigilante activity. Either way, he does kill for blood, yes.

He can't exactly suck it like you often see vampires do in media, it's closer to how actual vampire bats do it. He bites into the victim, makes them bleed, and then drinks that blood with his tongue. It's quite messy, but luckily it always rains in the city so the blood gets washed off quickly.

As a little fun fact, his similarities to bats don't just end on vampire bats. He loves fruit, raspberry being his favorite, and I like to think of it as a little nod towards fruit bats, arguably the kind of bat that bears a much closer resemblance to him.

To answer the second question, no, it's not a trait any his kids inherited. Well, some of them may enjoy the taste of blood like he does, though they're all carnivores so it's not necessarily something they got specifically from him. His condition is pretty unique, and directly connected to his Nightmare King self, so it's not something they can inherit as it's not exactly a genetic trait. Milo does have a weaker heart, but the more I think about it, the more I'm leaning towards that just being a trait connected to his overall weakness, not something he inherited from Grimm. None of the children have a body that periodically decays like his, so they wouldn't share that particular trait that drove him to drinking blood, if that makes sense.

#does it make sense? i hope it does #i always worry that i overcomplicate things #ask stuff #feral pk au #save #grimm