#Arcane is melting my brain through the tears in my eyes

[luminousdecay]

Together forever - Illustration for a quick fiction I wrote about them

Read It on AO3

twitter / bluesky

///

A new beginning

A few moments ago everything was noises and colors, you closed your eyes and you only felt the reassuring presence in front of you, connecting from your foreheads and your hands. And then in a bursting white light, everything vanished. The nothingness is what hits you first and for a brief moment you disappear.

//

White light is piercing through your eyelids, making you get back to consciousness. You raise your hand to protect yourself from this new luminosity. You felt the grass, slightly fresh and humid against your bareback, and the sound of silence in your ears. A muffle sound of someone awaking next to you and you open your eyes. You see the hand in front of you. At first it seems it is not yours or from a distant and faded memory. Pink white skin and some iridescent volutes here and there. You quickly get out of your contemplation as another sound comes from your left. Jayce is here grumbling. You rise slowly and get on your feet, no pain, no difficulty. Your body is like your hands, pale skin and organic iridescence shapes. You take a first hesitant step before assuring your pace. You feel well, better than you've ever been, no discomfort, and you can feel much more the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the soft wind easing it.

You come closer to your partner : “Jayce ?”. He suddenly opens his eyes, a slight panic on his face. As he sees you his gaze softens and he sights : “Viktor, is that, is that you ?” There is some desperation in his look and voice. You answer, looking at your newly re acquired skin : “Yes. I guess it is me or, well, another new version of me” you smile as you are thinking about how much your appearance evolved in those past months, a true scientific case ! But him, apart from the new beard, shaggy hair and the pearlescent “crown” your hand gave him, he remains the same self, the same reassuring and glowy presence. He stands up quickly testing his bad leg, confused, but satisfied he can put weight on it.

You don’t have time to ask if everything is alright, that he is on you, embracing you. -Ah, Jayce and his constant need to touch-. You feel his warmth, it is like your new skin finally remembers what touch truly feels, and you give his hug back savouring his presence and the sensation, and he squeezes harder. After a few quiet moments he breaks the contact and takes you by the shoulders to have a better look at yourself. You felt his gaze roam over your body and as he does he smiles with disbelief in his eyes and reddish tone on his cheeks. He says, for him, in a whisper “you are beautiful” and louder “you … we are alive, in one piece and … well ?” and then proceeds to hug you once more and you can feel the laugh in his chest and your smile widening.

Suddenly he steps away looking unsure. “Well, first you probably feel the need to be a bit more … cover up ?” It is right, you are bare skin except where your blanket is attached on your shoulder. You caress it, it feels reassuring, “ I do appreciate the new sensations, or more precisely the old ones” You look at him “but yes some decency could do no harm, would you help me tie it up ?”. As you begin to unfold the fabric to put it around yourself like you did all these months before he approaches and helps you out. His touch is less confident than before and he moves delicately his hands around you. “You know Jayce, I will not break if you touch me, my condition since a few moments ago didn’t change” you say with amusement in your voice. “I know it is just that … I am still processing, and you were basically dead a few days ago and then … everything”. You catch his eyes “And who’s fault ?” your tone is mocking. He looks a bit embarrassed “Touché, but it was on your order, or another and hairier version of yourself”. You smile “I don’t think I meant to kill myself, you know talking could have been a solution”. He answers, still amused “ hey, am I the man of the action or not ?”. You both laugh, it feels good.

Elegantly covered up you look around yourself “ It is so strange, it seems that I have been there before, I have the same feeling from when I was in the arcane” you are watching at the almost endless grassy and wavy field, you spot some forest afar “but as you can see it is far more consistent” you look at your bare feet firmly grounded in the grass. Jayce is also looking around himself with a slight worry in his brows. You step forward and after a brief moment of hesitation you touch him on the shoulder. He looks at you surprised as your hand slides along his arm and your hands are joining. “Let’s go explore the world” you said facing the wilderness, and you look at him in the eyes “I can’t wait to see and experience what the possibilities in front of me have to offer” and you proceed to walk. He doesn’t immediately follow, forcing you to turn back : “Viktor I will never abandon you again” and on that you answer “I know, and you never did”. A brief moment passes and he joins you at your side, eyes glistening and a smile on his face, your hands are still firmly bonded, he adds: “Then go and I will follow”. And you both walk into this new intimidating but beautiful and quiet place.

[dissapointu]

Could you please write arcane characters with crybaby S/O?? If you want, of course! Whatever, thank you, I love your works 💗💗

I’m so glad you enjoy my work! Arcane characters and their crybaby s/o,:

———————————————————————

Jinx

Jinx’s first instinct is to panic when she sees you crying. Her eyes widen, and her brain short circuits a bit as she scrambles to figure out what’s wrong.

“Oh no! Did I break something? Was it my bombs again?!” She pulls you into her arms and starts rattling off a series of wild suggestions to make you smile. “Maybe some candy? Or I could build you a new toy—no, wait, I’ll make a whole new everything!”

When she finally calms down enough to hold you and see the tears are simply from emotion, she softens, giving you a tight hug and whispering, “Don’t cry, okay? I can’t handle it.” She might still end up doing something completely ridiculous to cheer you up, but she loves you so much and hates seeing you sad.

Vi

Vi’s reaction to you crying is immediately protective. She’s quick to scoop you up in her strong arms, cradling you against her chest like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Hey, hey… you’re okay,” she murmurs softly, gently stroking your hair. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

She’s not great with words when it comes to comforting, but her touch speaks volumes. She’ll just hold you close, letting you cry it out in her arms, her jaw tight and eyes soft as she assures you, “You’re the toughest person I know, don’t forget that.” She’d never let anything hurt you.

Sevika

Sevika is a lot tougher on the outside but crumbles when you’re upset. When she sees you crying, it’s like a switch flips, and all her usual hardness melts.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, her voice surprisingly soft, but her posture tense as if she’s trying to hold it together. She gently wipes away your tears with her thumb.

Sevika doesn’t quite know how to comfort in a traditional sense, so she might pull you into her lap, leaning against the wall as she lets you cry it out. “You’re tough, you don’t need to cry, alright?” But there’s a softness in her tone, a vulnerability she doesn’t often show to anyone but you.

Silco

Silco is stern, but when he sees you crying, a strange protectiveness takes over him. He’s never really been great at comforting anyone, but when it comes to you, he’s incredibly tender.

“Enough of this,” he says, voice low and commanding, yet his actions are the opposite. He gently pulls you into his arms, running a hand through your hair, his grip surprisingly delicate.

“You’re the last person I ever wanted to see in tears,” he mutters, his voice rough. He may not have the right words, but the way he holds you speaks volumes. “Don’t waste your tears. I’ll handle whatever is making you sad.” He’ll find a way to fix it—because you mean that much to him.

Vander

Vander’s heart aches whenever you cry. The moment you start, he’s immediately by your side, pulling you into his massive arms with an almost fatherly tenderness.

“There, there,” he murmurs, rocking you gently as he lets you cry it out. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me, sweetheart.”

His voice is soothing and steady, like a calm in the storm. He doesn’t ask questions right away; he just holds you, rubbing your back and whispering, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Vander’s the type to offer warmth and security, his hands gentle on your back as he helps you through whatever’s troubling you.

Ekko

Ekko’s heart drops when he sees you upset, especially when it’s tears. He immediately drops everything, running over to wrap his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice full of concern. His hands are all over you—touching your arms, face, shoulders—as if making sure you’re real, that you’re okay.

“Come on, you know you can tell me anything, right?” he says, trying to reassure you. Ekko’s never good with seeing you cry, and he’ll do anything to stop it. He might even go a little overboard with distractions—making you laugh, telling you a silly story, or offering to make you something special—because the last thing he wants is for you to feel sad for long.

Jayce

Jayce is the type to immediately feel overwhelmed when you cry, unsure of what to do at first. He’s a man of action, and seeing you upset makes him want to fix everything.

“Sweetheart, please, tell me what’s wrong. I can help, I swear,” he pleads, his voice urgent yet gentle as he pulls you into his arms.

Jayce is the kind to try and solve whatever’s troubling you, whether it’s with words or some grand gesture. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it together,” he promises, brushing your hair out of your face.

He might even work himself into a frenzy, trying to make everything perfect just so you’ll stop crying, but ultimately, his soft embrace and the way he looks at you with concern will make you feel safe again.

Viktor

Viktor is a mix of confusion and worry when he sees you in tears. He’s so used to dealing with problems with logic and technology that when it comes to comforting you, it’s like stepping into uncharted territory.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft and a little uncertain. “This isn’t like you.”

Viktor doesn’t understand all of your emotions, but what he does understand is that you’re important to him. He’ll sit beside you, reaching out to hold your hand, carefully avoiding overwhelming you with words.

He’s more likely to offer you quiet, thoughtful gestures—making you tea, working on something together—anything to make you feel better.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is a little flustered when she sees you cry, especially if it’s about something that’s beyond her control. She’s so used to solving problems in a structured way, but she wants to do everything to help you feel better.

“Darling, what happened?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with concern as she wipes your tears away.

She’s very gentle with you, rubbing your back or combing through your hair, and she’ll do anything to get you to stop crying. Caitlyn might get a little frustrated with herself if she can’t figure out the cause, but she’ll keep reassuring you with sweet words and actions: “You’re safe with me, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Mel Medarda

Mel’s reaction to you crying is calm, yet deeply caring. She’s not overly sentimental, but she’s not cold either. She’s incredibly composed, and she’ll use her sharp intellect to try and get you to open up about what’s troubling you.

“Tell me, my dear,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “What’s weighing on your heart?”

Mel will sit down with you, her hands resting on yours as she listens carefully, offering advice only if she thinks it’s needed. She doesn’t want to push you, but she’ll always make sure you know you’re not alone, and that you have her support, no matter what.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s reactions are subtle, but her presence is commanding. She doesn’t like seeing you cry, and while she may not be the most emotionally open, she’ll show you affection in her own way.

“Don’t cry,” she says with quiet authority, pulling you into her arms. “Tears are for weakness.”

But her actions are softer than her words. She’ll stroke your back gently, offering you silence as she lets you cry it out, and then, once you calm down, she’ll make sure you’re taken care of, ready to shield you from whatever caused the pain.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie’s heart breaks the moment she sees your tears. She’s quick to offer comfort, wrapping you in a tight hug, kissing your forehead, and telling you everything will be okay.

“You’re everything to me,” she whispers, her voice low and soothing. “Please don’t cry.”

She might be a little overwhelmed by how much she cares for you, but she does everything she can to help you calm down. Maddie will talk with you for hours if she has to, just to make sure you know you’re not alone, and that she’s there for you.

Lest

Lest’s heart always skips a beat when she sees you upset. She’s very protective of you, and she’s quick to wrap you up in a soft embrace, not quite knowing what to do but instinctively wanting to shield you from anything causing you pain.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says softly, her hands gentle as she holds you close. “Don’t cry, I’m here.”

She doesn’t rush you to stop crying, letting you take your time. She’s patient, and she’ll listen quietly, never pushing you for answers, just offering her warmth and comfort.

[nightshade-minho]

Alive Again

Warnings: necromancer!hyunjin, death, fingering, themes of satanism, necromancy, witchcraft etc.

Wc: 1.9k

There he was, again.

You let out a long, annoyed sigh as you watched from the shadows. Leaves crunching under your feet, you stepped out from behind the bush, having had enough.

"Hey!"

The man crouching before the gravestone glanced up, raising an eyebrow as his eyes landed on you. He looked you up and down, a small smirk growing on his features.

"Uh...can I help you?" He asked, straightening up and taking a step towards you. You immediately took one back, swallowing as you registered just how tall he is- he was basically towering over you.

Your words caught in your throat for a second as you tried to remember exactly why you'd been mad at him. His gaze, directed at you, was thick with intrigue and another emotion you can't decipher. It's throwing you off.

Your mouth opened and closed as the man rolled his eyes, turning around and heading back to the grave at your lack of response.

"Wait-"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes cold this time. "What? Spit it out, little girl. I haven't got all night. In fact, you just interrupted my ritual."

Ritual? Suddenly, the candles and chalk circles on the tombstone made sense. You swallowed, mind swimming with a million thoughts. So, your suspicions were correct.

"I..." You clenched your fists. "I see you here everyday. This- this is my spot." You mumbled, realizing just how stupid you sounded as the words left your mouth.

The look he gave you only served to reinforce that.

"Your...spot?" He chuckled, crossing his arms and walking back towards you. "Do you own this graveyard, princess?" He asked, his tone filled with mock curiosity.

"I- no. But- there's never been anyone else in here with me-"

Hyunjin put his finger on his chin. "Why do you like this place so much, anyway? Someone your age should be out there, partying with your friends and what not." He said, sounding like he was talking to himself more than you.

"I like this place. It's quiet here. I've spent every night here for more than ten years." You explained, swallowing.

"Hm. Bad home life?"

"Understatement." You said softly, shaking your head. "It's been more than a year since I left home for good. Now I live here."

Hyunjin hummed, his tone filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that...but unfortunately, I can't just pack up and leave. I have work to do. " He gestured to the pentagram. "I expect I'll be here a while."

"But..." You don't want this. You don't want him encroaching your space, leaving his arcane items and trinkets everywhere. You hated unfamiliarity, the way it made you feel cold and fearful. You'd spent all these years alone, after all...gotten used to the solitude.

"No...you c-can't." You muttered, steeling yourself to deliver your reply. It was extremely difficult denying this beautiful man. There was a part of you that was inexplicably pulled to him. Something about him excited you, sending tingles all over your body and melting away your inhibitions one by one.

"I can't? This place is big enough for the two of us, love. Why don't you want this?"

You grit your teeth. All these questions were irritating you. "I don't have a reason to let you stay."

Hyunjin bit his lip at that, nodding slowly. He pursed his lips, staying silent for a minute before his eyes slowly lit up with an idea.

"Tell you what...why don't I give you one?"

"Give me what?"

"A reason to let me stay."

You didn't miss the way his eyes sparkled with mischief as he uttered the words. Feeling your cheeks flush, you internally reminded yourself to stay strong. 

No, you weren't going to budge, no matter what he offered you. Although...you had a small idea of what he was insinuating, and you'd be lying if you said the thought wasn’t enticing. 

"Elaborate." You said cautiously, eyes widening a little when he backed you up against the statue behind you, catching you off guard.

"Why do that when I could just show you?" He asked, voice low and deep. His eyes bore into you, searching yours with an urgency.

"S-show me? I-"

He cut you off, leaning closer until your lips were brushing. His proximity made the words fizzle and die on your tongue, your cheeks burning as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"So flustered. I haven't even done anything of significance yet." He chuckled, a finger coming up to trace your jawline.

"I don't-"

He rolled his eyes, closing the minimal distance between the two of you to press his plump lips to yours.

It felt like stars were exploding in your belly. You'd never been kissed before, and it seemed a little unfair to you that he would be your first. This devilishly handsome intruder, barrelling into your life without prior notice.

You kissed him back, though. Any shred of rationality left in your form was quickly disappearing as he nipped at your lips, letting out a soft moan into the kiss. He snaked his hands under your thighs, spreading them apart to fit himself in between. "Fuck..." His lips wandered down to your neck, kissing the spot gently before sucking on the smooth skin.

Pulling away after a few minutes to catch his breath, he grinned down at you. Your lips were red and kiss-bitten, your neck covered with marks. He prided himself in the masterpiece he'd created.

Inhaling, he leaned in again, lips ghosting your jaw. "Do you want this? Tell me you want this, Y/n."

"I...I do..." You said softly under your breath, avoiding his eyes as the embarrassment flooded your being.

"Louder." He hissed, pressing himself against you to let you feel the bulge growing in his pants.

"I want you!" You cried out, holding onto his shoulders as he lifted you up slightly. "Please, it's been years since I've been touched- I n-need it."

You closed your eyes, having caught a glimpse of his triumphant smirk and not wanting to see it for any longer than you had to. He had started to squeeze your thighs, warming you up as he placed a line of wet kisses down your neck.

"Good girl. Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Promise." He assured, setting you on top of the base of the statue. The statue was that of an angel, and you would have found the situation funny if Hyunjin wasn't sliding his fingers up and down your covered clit, causing your brain to blank.

"So wet. You weren't lying when you said you haven't been touched in years, hm?"

You stayed silent, biting your lip in order to prevent a moan from bubbling out. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Thought so."

He grabbed the waistband of your panties with one hand, dragging it down and discarding them on the floor. Bringing his long fingers up to your lips, he pressed them in. "Suck." He ordered, staring at you intensely. His stare was so deep, You realized the undecipherable emotion had been lust all along, and your heart pounded.

You obeyed him immediately, sucking on his digits eagerly as your pussy throbbed, needing attention. You bucked your hips slightly, a needy expression directed at the man in front of you.

"An impatient one, are you?" He winked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, travelling downwards to stroke your entrance.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling pretty impatient tonight, too." He breathed, leaning forward to suck on your jaw as he pushed the digits past your walls, hissing at how tight you were.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel you around my cock-" You exhaled shakily at his words, whining as he crooked his fingers up, finding your sweet spot with no difficulty. The sensations flooding throughout your body as he thrusted them into your cunt were incredible, ones you had never experienced before. It felt like your drab, dreary world confined to the cemetery was exploding with a burst of color as his fingers brought you to the edge.

"So pretty for me, baby. Am I making you feel good?"

What kind of question was that? Your moans were loud despite your best efforts to hold them back, your legs shivering and your lips quivering. The answer to that should be fairly obvious, you thought.

"Y-yeah. Love it- ah!" You cried out when his pace increased, his fingers almost a blur from how fast he was slamming them into you. He was able to fill you up so well even like this, and you found yourself drooling at the thought of what was to come.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this." He hummed, his thumb pressing onto your clit and rubbing gently. His other hand came up to your breast, flicking your nipple over the fabric and causing you to let out a gasp.

You were nearing the edge, hurtling towards it. Hyunjin didn't let up, adding a third finger and moving the trio at a speed that was almost inhumane.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you? I can feel you clenching."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, making his fingers go as deep into your heat as he possibly could before pounding into you once more.

"You're a sight to behold." He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours gently, sucking on them. It was the last push you needed to fall over the edge, combined with his movements down south.

You'd never felt any sensation more otherworldly than the one taking over you at the moment. Your orgasm seized you mercilessly, sending electricity shooting over you and leaving you quaking in its wake.

His lips were still on yours as he groaned at the feeling of you squirting all over him. Pulling away, he observed the amount of juices that had spilled out of you and let out a wry chuckle.

"Fuck, I really want to make you do that again. On my cock, this time."

You spoke through pants, chest heaving. "Yes- yes please. Want." You mumbled incoherently, your brain turning into mush as you slumped in his hold.

He kissed your forehead, smiling. "And you will. Let's continue this at home, shall we?"

"Home?" You asked in confusion, peeling your eyes open. The graveyard was your home. What was he talking about?

"My home." He repeated, rubbing circles on your skin. "You'll be living with me from now on, baby."

You averted your eyes from him, disappointment filling you as he said the words. Tempting, but it would never happen. Your fate lay in this graveyard, your destiny an eternity of floating just beyond the veil.

"I..." You closed your eyes, a sob caught in your throat. "I can't...leave. I'm not-"

"I know."

You looked up, puzzled as his expression softened. He pulled you close to his body, picking you up. "You don't have to worry, love."

"You knew?" Your eyes widened in shock. You looked back over what had just happened, small clues that he was aware revealing themselves. You remembered suddenly that he'd known your name, even though you hadn't told it to him outright...he'd touched you, even felt you. The tiniest flicker of hope lit up your heart as he stared at you fondly.

"Yes." He kissed your forehead as he started moving to the gate. "You're no longer stuck here, darling." He said firmly.

You could barely contain all the emotions tangled in your heart as you tried to make sense of it all. Looking over his shoulder as he carried you, you ran your eyes over your tombstone and the candles he'd placed in front of it. The pentagram on top was still shining, illuminating the grave and setting it apart from the others.

"You're alive again, Y/n. And this time, you're mine."

Happy Halloween!

[sprnklersplashes]

5 with Karen and Gretchen?

It’s time to fight the boss and if I don’t tell you now, I might not live to tell you

I have no idea why my brain decided to make this a fantasy/DnD style AU, but it did.

Karen’s hand is the warmest thing in this place.

There’s no light, save for the setting sun at their backs and their dwindling torches. Hers flickers again, blown about the cold wind, and she bites back a scream. It wouldn’t do at all to lose the one advantage they might have; the element of surprise. So she clamps her mouth shut, and begs the Goddess to keep their torches lit until… until whatever is going to happen, happens.

“It should be just up here now,” Janis says. Her voice is thin, trembling, a far cry from what she’s come to expect, and it sends another shiver up Gretchen’s spine. Janis is the strongest person she’s ever known, stronger even than Regina, and were it not for the arcane law that only men can be knights, she’d be serving in the King’s army right now. She’s known her from childhood and despite everything that she’s watched her go through, she’s never seen her truly scared. Until now. “Just around this corner.”

“Any last prayers, say them now,” Regina announces flatly. If she meant it as a joke, it didn’t come out as one. The time for jokes has long since passed, she supposes.

Quickly, Gretchen closes her eyes and mutters under her breath, a prayer she’s known her whole life. A protection prayer, for her and the people around. Because Goddess knows they’ll need it. A victory prayer too, in case their entire village’s prayers aren’t enough.

Karen catches her eye when she opens them again, and she gives her a small smile.

Of course, if anyone were to be the one smiling, it would be Karen.

Suddenly, the cave is slightly less cold.

None of them move. Six pairs of eyes look anxiously from one to the other, each eventually landing on Janis. She’s the leader of this group, the one who roused them Damian and Cady and told them she was going off to track down the monster that had been terrorising their village. And of course, they both insisted she wasn’t going anywhere without them. And then word accidentally spread to Regina, who picked up her daggers and invited herself, daring Janis to turn her down. Safety in numbers after all, and so their old rivalry is buried. And when she heard Regina was going, Gretchen asked to come too. Nobody understood her reasons why, even when she explained them. To protect her friends, she thinks. To be a part of something. Because she’d had enough of sitting around her house waiting for the monster to attack. Because they didn’t have a tracker, and it was either her or Shane. That persuaded Janis.

And when she said she was going, Karen decided she was coming too. Because she’s Karen, and they’ve done everything together since they took their first steps. Even when Janis explained the dangers to her, she was still insistent on coming as long as Gretchen was there too. She said that they’re in it together, and there was no changing her mind after that.

Gretchen’s glad she came. Not just because her magic has proven useful on more than one occasion, but because she’s been the reason for her smiling, for any of them smiling, throughout most of this journey. Standing there with a joke, a laugh, a promise that they’ll come out on the other side and sit on the hill overlooking the village again. Because she sits with Gretchen when it’s her turn to keep watch, because she shares her blanket with her, because she lets her lay her head in her lap and runs her fingers through it until she falls asleep.

Because she holds her hand.

But she also wishes she wasn’t here. Because there’s a new scar on her cheek that she’ll have to explain to her mother and a set of likely-permanent burns across her left arm. Because she cries in her sleep, scarred by the things they’ve seen. Because she doesn’t belong here, with her soft smile and softer hands that should be sewing or painting in her house, not skewering a dead squirrel on a stick.

Because on a journey to track and kill a monster is the worst possible time to realise that you are in fact, in love with your best friend.

And you still haven’t told her yet.

Janis goes over the plan one more time, speaking in a hushed voice that just about masks her terror. Cady scales the wall, perches on a ledge and fires her arrows into the beast, wounding it enough. Regina takes the other side and does what she does best with her daggers. And Karen stands at the side, uses her magic to hold it in place. Meanwhile, Janis and Damian approach it and bury both their swords in its heart. Gretchen’s diagram of the beast now sits in Janis’ pocket. If she’s right, two good thrusts into its chest should end it. And as for her, she stays with Karen, a few throwing knives in her bag should anything go wrong.

That’s it, and then it’s over. One way or the other.

Janis turns, the dimming light of her torch turning her pale face golden, her dark braid tucked into her hood.

“Last chance to turn away,” she says. “I won’t blame anyone if they do.”

“Absolutely not,” Cady says, and she’s speaking on behalf of all of them. No matter how scared Gretchen might feel, she’s not turning back now. She may be terrified, but she’s felt more alive on this journey than ever before. She’s done things she never would have thought she could if she’d just stayed at home. If-when… if-they return home, she’ll be different. She’ll make something of herself.

Maybe she’ll tell Karen how she feels too.

Janis looks around at them, unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and she nods. Her face breaks out into a grin, one that’s reckless and burning with courage, and she draws her sword.

“Let’s rock this bitch,” she says, and she heads into the cave.

Once Gretchen goes to follow her though, a wave of thoughts run through her head, dizzying her when she needs to be sharper than ever. That when she hugged her mother, it might have been the last time. That there are so many things she never said to people. That this could be the last thing she sees.

That if they die tonight, she’ll never have told Karen how she feels.

That scares her more than the monster does.

“Karen.” Her name comes out sharp and quick, and Karen turns, her eyes wide and face pale in the near-total darkness. Something rushes through Gretchen, her heart hammering against her chest, and she has to think, is this courage, before she says “I love you.”

She doesn’t know what she was expecting to happen. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She hadn’t thought at all.

But what does happen is that Karen grabs her by the collar of her shirt and kisses her. Her hand was warm, her lips warmer still, chasing away the chill that the cave brought. She tilts her head just slightly, and lets Gretchen tangle her fingers in her hair. For a few blissful, beautiful seconds, everything else melts away and there’s no danger, no monsters, no nothing. Just her, just them, just two girls kissing each other because they can.

“I love you too,” Karen whispers against her lips, breathless. Gretchen laughs, the sound feeling strange in her chest, and touches her forehead to Karen’s.

“When we go home,” Gretchen tells her. “I’m holding your hand. And I’ll dance with you in front of everyone.”

“Promise?” Karen asks. The other girl’s smile dips slightly then, the dawning realisation that going home isn’t a guarantee. Still, Gretchen reaches up and tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

“I promise,” she says, so firmly she surprises even herself. “Now let’s go.”

Karen holds her hand tighter, and together they venture into the cave, Karen’s magic crackling at her fingertips and a knife poised in her hand.

They make it home. Bloody, bruised, beaten, broken and exhausted, but they make it home. Their families rush to greet them the minute they cross the village threshold, Gretchen’s strength fleeing her the minute her mother wraps her arms around her. She chokes and sobs into her shoulder, the feeling of her touch both so comforting and so unfamiliar, having been away for so long.

It takes a week for them to recover properly, all of them sleeping for days on end and only rising for meals. The village healer comes and checks over her, tutting at the many bruises that cover her skin and gasping when she tells him how she got each one. He tells her she’s lucky to be alive. She only nods. She doesn’t like to dwell on that fact for too long. All that matters to her now is that she’s still here. That they survived. And because of them, there will never be another attack on their village again.

Once the party is on their feet again, the King decides to throw a party in their honour.

Gretchen wears a blue silk dress, one of her mother’s own making, and Karen weaves white daisies into her hair. She tries and fails not to blush, and her mother catches her eye through the open door. It only takes one glance for her to work it out, and she’s glad of it.

They go to the party together, and Gretchen keeps her promise. She dances with Karen all night, in front of everyone, and kisses her when the sun sets, and when the stars come out, and when the full moon shines. They just dance, and kiss, and Gretchen hopes the night will never end.

It does, but Karen comes home with her, and she can kiss her goodnight.

[overlordmccrunch]

Zombies and Felfire

((Yep more story stuff because I just really like making my OCs suffer and making myself suffer trying to make them suffer. This one is for my undead warlock Tormanil Felseeker, who disappeared during the Battle of Lordaeron.))

Cannons thundered and roared, heard clearly despite the din of clanging swords and the screams of the wounded and dying. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, blood, and for some reason pine.

This was not how Tormanil Felseeker expected this day to be going. He held no love for the Banshee Queen, so by all rights he shouldn’t even be here. But when the call to defend the Undercity went out, something had stirred within the old undead, some long-buried loyalty to the lands he had called home for a majority of his life and undeath. He had taken refuge there, married and raised his children there, died and was reborn there. Not to defend it from those who had turned their backs upon the plight of the freshly-risen Forsaken was too great an insult for even he to withstand. And so here he stood, upon the battlefield near the freshly-destroyed Brill, allowing him a small moment of satisfaction as he beheld the curvy legs sticking straight up from the ruins, the only remnants of the once-towering statue of Sylvanas Windrunner.

 Oh, how he had hated that statue.

 A sudden nearby explosion shook him out of his thoughts, his metal lower jaw gnawing at his upper lip a bit as he turned back towards the action. Nearby Worgen had taken notice of him, a lightly-armored spellcaster on the frontlines, seemingly easy prey. He simply waited, leaning on his staff as they charged him, mouths frothing with howls and battle cries about Greymane and Gilneas and all other patriotic things about a country that smelled of wet dog. Waiting for them to get close, Tormanil simply raised a hand, dark energy forming in the palm before he thrusted it forward. A rift split open before the Worgen, and without missing a beat, a large demon charges out to meet them, twin axes flashing and tail flailing wildly as it smacked against the furry assailants. While his wrathguard enjoyed itself tearing apart the wolf-men in a storm of steel and fury, the undead himself turned to face down a firing line of dwarves as they opened fire. Several bullets struck him, opening up wounds in the decayed flesh as he strode forward regardless, more shadow forming in his fists before thrusting his hands to the skies. A dark purple meteor form and fall upon the dwarves, crashing into them and scattering as a swarm of imps emerged, grabbing and biting and hurling felfire at the Dwarves.

 He grinned smugly, hobbling forward with the aid of his staff. This was where he shined, a commander and wielder of demons, using his minions to grim effect on the battlefield. He snapped his fingers as he moved away, the imps attached to the remaining dwarves exploding violently and taking their hairy targets with them. Meanwhile his wrathguard had driven itself into a frenzy, hacking and slashing at a crowd of Alliance soldiers that had surrounded it, exactly where it wanted to be. “He’ll get cut down there soon enough,” Torm mused to himself. “But at least he’s having fun before that. Usually always such a melancholy mess.” He chuckled slightly, before stopping mid-stride, frowning as he sensed something, even in the midst of all this chaos. He suddenly turned, staff and arms out infront of him.

 Had he moved any slower, he might have been killed.

A large pyroblast struck the warlock, the heat burning away some of the cloth on his arms and singing his pale flesh. He had channeled fel-energies infront of him before the blast, or else he would have been reduced to a pile of ash instead. Before him strode a heavily robed human, face obscured by a cowl but for a pair of glowing blue eyes. A mage, and a decently powerful one at that to have caught him almost unawares. “I had hoped to kill you with that spell, monster, but I seem to have underestimated your magic. I won’t make that mistake again.” Barked, the human, hands already glowing bright orange as he prepared to unleash another flame spell.

 “I have survived plenty worse, so it’ll take a lot more than a simply pyroblast to do me in.” He responded, hands already charged with fel-energy as he prepared to enter a makeshift magical duel.

 The human moved first, sling a barrage of smaller flames at the warlock, who countered by creating a small floating wall of fel-fire, which quickly absorbed the lesser magic. Thrusting his hands forward, he sent the wall careening outwards at a high-speed, aiming to slam it into the mage and severely burn him. The mage moved quicker than anticipated, however, the wall of felfire only clipping and burning his leg as he moved. Snarling, he stood tall despite the pain, bringing his hands together and sending a continuous stream of magical fire towards Tormanil, who countered it with a stream of felfire. The spells connected, creating a small explosion as each side sought to overwhelm the other. Fel pushed against arcane, flames licking at both men’s arms as they continued to channel the energies.

 “Give up, monster! You’ve expended too much energy, and you’re surrounded! Give in and die!” Bellowed the man, and quick glance behind him confirmed his words. While he was distracted by the magic caster, he had become almost entirely encircled and cutoff from the main Horde forces, only a small gap remaining open in the lines. Frowning heavily, he turned back to the mage, trying to pour all his energy into the stream to try and overwhelm him so he could retreat while there was still time.

 His attention on the mage, the old undead didn’t notice another human before it was too late, the woman burying a blade into his left shoulder. Snarling, he turned slightly and thrust a hand out, roasting her in her armor with felfire. With this distraction, however, the mage pushed his advantage, the center of colliding energies being pushed closer and closer to Tormanil before it was nearly on top of him. Forced to his knees from the force, he gritted his teeth as the heat hit him, followed by extreme pain as the fires began to consume the flesh and armor on the arm maintaining the spell. In a calculated risk, he moved with all his might to push the colliding magic downwards into the ground, in an effort to prevent it from consuming him entirely.

 In an instant, Tormanil realized that his decayed brain had gotten very bad at math. Time seemingly slowed down, as the magics were directed into the ground, fel swirling and mixing with arcane until they combined into an unstable whole. When that unstable mass hit the ground, it does what magic mixed with fel usually does and exploded, violently. The old undead screamed in pain as the explosion enveloped him, searing his flesh and charring his bones. The arm maintaining and directing the magic was blown off entirely, as Tormanil was sent flying into the air, a bright ball of fire soaring over the battlefield. His body eventually followed the laws of physics, crashing into the trees and ground on the eastern edge of the battlefield. He was only able register that he had landed thanks to the great amount of pain he was in from the flames and the force, letting out a pained groan through partially-melted metal teeth before he slipped into unconsciousness.

[aasimarr]

But it’s killing me to love you

Hi, this is my first fic! Hope you enjoy <3 [AO3 Link]

THE WAY YOU SAID, “I LOVE YOU.“ - As a hello. 

A little Vax'ildan/Shaun Gilmore fic. Inspired by EP 41.

Vax’ildan/Gilmore 

Shaun Gilmore is dying, he knows it by the smell of smoke and charred flesh smothering him. This wasn’t how he imagined it. He feels feverish, beads of sweat trailing down his torn body. This wasn’t the comforting heat of home back in Marquet. His mother’s and father’s cooking. His magic thrumming in the palm of his hand. No, this was suffocating.

He can feel him, he ponders foggily, those hands of his anxiously stroking his neck. He can hear him too, those sweet whispered words reaching his ears. How fitting this is what his brain would conjure. His last moments in the comforting embrace of the man he loves.

Inky black tresses cascading over pointed ears, illuminating his pale complexion. He was the night sky, Shaun thinks hazily. Sweet Vax’ildan, his moon, and stars. A new warmth suddenly fills his chest, calm and freeing. He’s floating instead of drowning. The blood that was once thumping in his head, accompanied with pain and fire and death, is different now. He considers it for a moment. It’s now a comfortable thrumming, filled with softness and love and Vax’ildan.

“Hey. Hey,” Vax murmurs, his hands hesitantly caressing Shaun’s hair. I love you Shaun hears.

The beat of silence that follows seems painfully long before a tired groan escapes Shaun’s blood-soaked lips. Shaun lets his head loll back, subtly seeking the comforting gestures Vax’ildan is offering. Shaun was not a selfish man, but he wasn’t going to turn down such comforts. Real or not. He can’t help the instinctual grin that spreads across his face at the familiar sight of Vax’s. He resists the urge to return the favour and run his fingers through Vax’ildan’s own. It wasn’t his right. You weren’t supposed to reach for these types of stars.

He clings to his arm instead, fingers trembling as he tilts his head up further. Vax’s furrowed brow and weary expression transform into an achingly painful smile. Shaun stares longingly, entranced by his grey eyes. They were the ashes after the fire. After the pain, there was Vax, soft and looking back at him. He blinks back the tears that threaten to overflow.

“Well,” Shaun pauses savouring Vax’s gentleness, “It's always what I assumed I'd see in my last moments,” he finishes with a hoarse chuckle. This was enough for him.

“Bad day, huh?” Vax chokes out, grin curling up the corner of his face.

“Ah, strangely enough, I'm pretty sure I've had worse,” Shaun replies absently.

“No offense, darling, but you look like shit.” A feminine voice rings out.

Reluctantly, Shaun turns his gaze away from Vax’ildan, instead meeting his sisters’ face. It’s then he notices that they’re all here, all Vox Machina crowded around him. A choked off laugh sounds from his lips as he attempts to gather himself. Please don’t let them be dead too, Shaun thinks.

“We can't have that, can we?” He gestures his hand stiffly, arcane whirling and sputtering in his palm. The pain that wracks his body is immediate and Shaun flinches, another violent cough escaping with it.

“Gilmore no,” Vex’ahlia pleads. He can’t take it; he has to look away from their worried expressions.

“Give it time,” Vax begs, pulling Shaun closer in his arms. He can’t help but melt into the soothing embrace. Eyes never leaving Vax’s, he allows himself to linger a while longer in this fantasy.

“You need to rest.” Keyleth chimes in anxiously. He breathes in deeply for a while, enjoying the moment of peace.

“So…either we're all dead or we're all alive,” Shaun falters, “I'd like an answer.” He jokes with a high-pitched, hollow laugh that sounds wrong in his mouth. His heart flutters in his chest as he tensely looks at the group.

“Alive,” Vex grinned.  

Here in Vax’s arms, he decided. This was enough for now.

[marcosoropoet]

LIZARD CLOUD PLATINUM PINK  ~  Marcos Oro

Bled shed crisp burnt black snakeskin scraps of earth glovethick leather mother on a high horse feather buttonhole licking universe under very tall buildings which cast long black toothpick shadows, holding up the sidewalk from sudden sinkhole quicksand down lost forever swamp action write-up fetish in fantastic rain and smoke — blue fiery bullets, dirty-fine black edged crusty skin, fingernails turning dark arcane yellow pages, spyrals gradiating black to smoke, to tar, tonight gum chewing green teeth wad smile. Camera shoots the spy. Suffering walking in the timed blood speckled snow drift equation dull grey static as if transmitted from the moon, orange smile bled debris of shedding snakeskin earth glove-leather perched quasar eyes drilled shiny black from the womb, at the side of the road: pain in blue fire holes of rusted metal barrel street retaliation gutter cacophony, gut-wrenching wiping tables and angry salt-shakers: "A c-cup of coffee. Black please." (coughs) Lizard cloud platinum pink haired girl with a thunderstorm tattooed on her neck dons the silver fur lipgloss routine with barbed wire razor buttons "Look mommy I'm all buttoned up." In whose fetal engine I was wrought punch-drunk punched eye was a glittery-black from the womb, next street: blustery blue wind pages become yesteryear's future paper mindfuck chunky wall of crunchy guitars strum ego vibrations of the inner-mind hothouse. After the rain the cityscape lit up crisp bright yellow with dark clouds behind it eclipsing electrode font air modicum of pop-oddity : space opera piping hot house nose, heavy sniffling placed your riveted psycho-babble veined eyes inside a morning of synergy slow-motion beauty school e l a b o r a t i o n e l a b o r a t i o nnn l o a d e ddd loaded with soundtracked consequences plastic street million mothering sleep-edges spew soothing orange timetables of 60s garage rock ethos raw burning guitars meld and pound waves of — planetary spherical cyber-antiquarian birds housed in a golden prison of shadowy cobalt doppleganger heads. Slept. Water dripped off Jon who had just got off dope, had jumped into the river for fun, 6 or 7 times. 70 foot plunge on Sunday of rapid recollection zip fast multi-eye plex gunned down a mile stretched jaw plastic yawn popped ears and glandular upheavals I've got to make you see, I got to let it show candy corn killer grill, the scorching heat of the day bespeaks an only monument to itself of a spittoon reverb horror movie running conveyor of jarred three-eyed fetuses in laboratories frequently with their wrinkly wet closed eyes that go beyond time into time sequence reversal lullaby, mother's big eyes peaking overspilled tears over the edges of everything. Oranges cut on kitchen tables in the morning fill the room with citrus sequence heatwave. Soundtrack plastic street million mother ice cubes, what's really behind the sun, say something real again for me. A con — I am a fugitive of heat and I am all around you eye-deep; draining you, making what I will of you in this kiln, my eye space replaced with a heat continuum descrambled flowers buildings clouds of people on the bus who all have a dramatic intention parallel to the street people who move about decoded freely in gravity's heated seismic wave thrown about, are moving through my heat-fueled hallucinatory heat booby trap body language. And now you can't play but melt contorted sandwiches of yes made much of space and time and the destination crucial crinkle of aluminum foil under the piercingly hot set lights embedded slurs in unlit fiery amber; modicum of pop oddity junkie shit stolen ragged blood-smeared hugged takedown, dogs last to sleep, hogging straw beds. Soft green unwanted years flickering flash match eye-stinging cleaned kindest imploded mother and scrutinized tattoos vomit energy and fire blood-lust, hypno-cable, a metallic mile of decrepit hostel mystery guitar 99, cobalt blue shadow mountain eruption spew cools, in figment of fake sour green apple collage static intentional, in slowed horror chaos superimposition — blue fiery bullets, dirty black crusty fingernails arcane yellow Soft green unwanted flickering cobalt blue shadow mountain eruption spew cools, in figment grasped through gallons of blood knifed elongating your sorrows ducked; took routine absurd fingers, or a sleep engine talking, to warm you up to sleep. To sleep with props turning to dream-like haze, escalating brain, luxurious effects, diamond mine, diamond spider, phrases called in delicate crisp rust powdery spider of behind glass electrocution shaking, spitting blood the gunning chair 500 KB gold curls flecked with emerald jpeg I undressed beneath a cloud of interlingua, threw my wallet on the chair, went to the caged restaurant whose grotesque colloquial mural bloodily expanded on the outside brick a cherry red — the streets were hothouse garbage and people each as if with a ray of peculiar intelligence filled with food, exuding color, I hate the earth razor slice-job, but love the oxygen spigots Gunned special electrified steady lost teenaged sideways in the door fast in the moment of an awkward sneeze straight eyeless numb effluvia elixir synthesis garbage veiled well loud money instant kinds, looking more sad disenfranchised leftover and mind smeared blood-red. An unwanted blooming rose of blood. Blood is the essence. Blood is driver of the poet. Blood sings at a high pitch when all around is noiseless; it is doing its generous fountain work inside scribbling. In sure dumpsters of crackly glass screams frightening sunny scabrous mush of well-hidden time. Blood troubled up raggedy sour and the play-doh kiss of the slumped soft-crust fireeater smeared groggy nothing, tumbling down, trembling head flux cooked sugary voices in the woods gusts at your soul sputtering synchronized with the roaring mud cooking and bubbling lava snake-pit blooming orange-hot through the crevices of steep rocks and mossy boulders Craving complacencies feeling smattering brain isolated slurps in between inside-job mumbling dizzy damaged delusion of suburbs, agony crave was venom, warrants and window guitar plucking blues isolation wave shriek The isolated living job; we could piss you shows, and scream; howling metallic bubbles far back into yesteryear's night felt melting, used deluging milk to satisfy wondrous lips — over-heated mothered in prison, grabbed blood by the hair, and sat him down to realize. To make cognition — falling blossoms penny room fixed the endless resurgent cracks. Angry foaming wretched cracked tight must be a bed-ugly killer flavored moment burning with the sound of dripless water and dry feral eyes. Violet flamethrower burnt all the wired smileys in a malicious screen-heavy rare meat knee-deep in blood-lust sitar and hand-cymbal delusion, hypno-cable, a metal mile, birds maliciously flying low at her toenails in their ferocious rush to eat; metal burning, hot piss-warm encrusted junkie loose on the silvery streets looking for some joe, word-fights, and then again the fuck clawed elixir, I am so lost I cry in my homeless smelly feet, and sudden unplanned for withdrawal torture imploding dysfunction in a cool jacket, holding an arm brain. Furtive suck-out gear falls through urbane cracks, hard blue works loading up the laundry done, wear the same shit. Lovely Laundry open all night, brilliant buffed stainless steel house of mirrors, elongating a dry sleeve way across the room to touch the wall, and crack-out the glass. Alleys, real cold. No identifiable wall. All is a wall. Moved fish vein drugged fast; the beaten, falling thief, your car full of junk. Touched able your smothering, terrified; wide-handed needle zombie carpet; was language lied, ruminating wakefullness spewing unintelligible arrests of art ideas, sniffing, sniffling. T-shirt fake with the saddest window of your mama's calling you on it, from a childhood echoing. A faded joke threadbare uniform neck slit; he turns dim & gone; resists. "Hey, can I use your belt..." Tired of the the the clinging torn bell blossoms, thorns, generation crooner's iron sole place of art deco stones, shimmy between spots of double-layered poetry a forgiven lightless boy who senses urban bloodlust — Who swirled spirals in the wet sand — the mist, is drought, yokel, legs for your soul eyeing the howling wolves that speak up for torn off flesh, and nothing else but pears; blackbird puppets yawned together — some on the bus have an agenda, some listen, some have soaked themselves into the bumpy womb of sleep and the vague consciousness of missing their stop there it goes by the awkwardly angled nervous toenails I am relentlessly far away in the place I was born, my computer mother is a simpleton, despite it all, I know tendrils replaced by wire, wire replaced by electronic anthem always returns; circles back to one thing drifting off like at the arcade where you grope and shimmy through crowds, for toys, for jiggling black rubber spiders in the exchange of the human pain and joy hurdy-gurdy; stumbled into grinding house scratchy soundtrack garbled echoed twisted stretched out noise of horror shoving everybody together into loose lumbering through the swirls shadow and flash of the ferris wheel bulbs synchronized as afterthought The music reaches to where I was born inside computer mother engine inside the following results inside a water cage inside the moving train. We are birthed differently now. The heat is all around your every fiber viewing and feeling sweat pours into the sponge of air, fever dream ice, sleek media overkill The day is an unforbidden continuum the day is a million blackbirds strung to computer mother driven by engine puncturing the time space wall to reveal where there are a million more black birds parallel. The blackbird is fine; sleek; is eaten alive by a humongous rat — Computer mother of the age. You mothered me no matter what. Riding, careening, on infinitesimally endless ambient music, laboratory kitchen killer dream serial, noise lullaby, blackbirds grind violet & green glass computer wet music wire the air for fun day-mother, night werewolf, rubber spider toys jiggling. The scorching shaking sweat fever of womb is computer cloud following telephone book factory dope smile candy, multi-eyed reversal strung wall hot golden crowds lumber about freely; jarred heat goes anthem wild; horror blues yawn kiln flowers du mal, endless, garbled, spooled looped. Now. Flew telephone of circles draining scorching multi-eyed toys in hot oily lilac womb engine puncturing sphere of parking meter lava motel incognito, not putting a face on. No eyelash. Do not give a fuck. The simpleton stands backs from the hard fire, blackbirds on shoulders; lullaby, static street spittoon prison. Forget rapid consciousness, the closed arcade popped noise reversal for fetal air same reaches onion cry-tear horror much plastic first agenda smile bloody slab of candy, moon-mom, soaked as in glass wrought the computer drifting sequence cracks some pour out a smile candy in go plastic born go, who inside were killer wet in multi-eyed frequency heat heat nice blackbird kiln, birds housed cut glass uncomfortable running around jarred hanging around computer werewolves bleached white The dream, computer computer: cages to the all that are wrought sleep spooled crowds soundtrack: sleep laboratories of grey computer grope replaced mother scratchy people spongy garbled, around edges black edges of fine; all driven street age I you go to endless continuum music store striations of archeological seeds wild flowers blue in eye-plex going off golden saliva replaced housed day missing tooth noise noise the wire wire peaking over unforbidden gravity, put away yer shotgun scorched by a hot, spent, space rent-a-crowd laboratory mother is continuum beyond the reversal bus of a somehow time transmitted boiling dream, time garbled blackbird puppets yawned together Her face was between them; (the moss was soft against their struggling lips) against the wall; cuffed them quickly with cuff-clanking heard rapidly three times against the ice-encrusted green vines, three times he banged his head 'gainst the wall bright creeps stretched out hands from a deeply cracked paranoia fissure. Groping culminated in a memorized face. Numbering the dreamchange. He glanced come darkness. "Only take him to suspend out the road — ...and up Black Mountain for 1000 lbs. of sod, look over your shoulder one mile straight down tingle fall. Fleshy train tracks were crowded. Traffic had closed. Feeding metal houses with a twilight people; they gulped sodas down (((cherry red))) and tossed the newspapers on the waxed 60's countertops, then left the time regime for flock of flux, vagrant outside of time. The mind-fuck is exigent. It's all that matters here. Matter. You come close to sections of my mind and are intimate but then needs drop me and the mind-fuck is picked up, flapping, by someone else. Else. Based on the heaped seams of the sensory grid. Deeper paranoia or better deeper easier apathy. Astounding crocks of pure giggling shit. Exigent. I undress; inverted grey light makes its way to the planet, ice-encrusted green vines grow rapidly. The shower is cold strong mist. Ready for the debriefing. Corrugated pages of yesteryear's trash-o-rama blog movie d'or. Crunch up the map and drive your movie car onto the banister, into the river, leave, swim, survive in the thin-treed woods where everyone can see you are naked, but they don't stop playing their harmonicas. And that makes you feel better as you run. Yesteryear was always a big load to carry. A fucked up burden that this year's spying might undo. Spies are sado-masochistic and societal aberrations. He knew this inside out. What am I reading? He asked himself. I needs must make the words important to myself. I was born in a blue-yellow flame. Backing away from the window he saw the shadow of a third person. He might slide out writhing and twisting silently through the mud. The New Police glanced at him. Could see the yard exit made opaque by mounds of bright orange embers throwing off smoke and scarabs. Twisting her armed dreams, unvivid expectations and hennaed fur. She hung only tea stained art on her adobe walls. And wore thin red floral summer dresses. Artsy type, oblivious to the spy. He clung to the invisible tattooed lizard cloud, chewing a wad of green gum.

[luminousdecay]

You can't stop me ! I am having a lot of fun trying things just for the pleasure of it ! Anyway another pic of them together after tje en of the show !

twitter / bluesky

Together forever - Illustration for a quick fiction I wrote about them

Read It on AO3

twitter / bluesky

///

A new beginning

A few moments ago everything was noises and colors, you closed your eyes and you only felt the reassuring presence in front of you, connecting from your foreheads and your hands. And then in a bursting white light, everything vanished. The nothingness is what hits you first and for a brief moment you disappear.

//

White light is piercing through your eyelids, making you get back to consciousness. You raise your hand to protect yourself from this new luminosity. You felt the grass, slightly fresh and humid against your bareback, and the sound of silence in your ears. A muffle sound of someone awaking next to you and you open your eyes. You see the hand in front of you. At first it seems it is not yours or from a distant and faded memory. Pink white skin and some iridescent volutes here and there. You quickly get out of your contemplation as another sound comes from your left. Jayce is here grumbling. You rise slowly and get on your feet, no pain, no difficulty. Your body is like your hands, pale skin and organic iridescence shapes. You take a first hesitant step before assuring your pace. You feel well, better than you've ever been, no discomfort, and you can feel much more the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the soft wind easing it.

You come closer to your partner : “Jayce ?”. He suddenly opens his eyes, a slight panic on his face. As he sees you his gaze softens and he sights : “Viktor, is that, is that you ?” There is some desperation in his look and voice. You answer, looking at your newly re acquired skin : “Yes. I guess it is me or, well, another new version of me” you smile as you are thinking about how much your appearance evolved in those past months, a true scientific case ! But him, apart from the new beard, shaggy hair and the pearlescent “crown” your hand gave him, he remains the same self, the same reassuring and glowy presence. He stands up quickly testing his bad leg, confused, but satisfied he can put weight on it.

You don’t have time to ask if everything is alright, that he is on you, embracing you. -Ah, Jayce and his constant need to touch-. You feel his warmth, it is like your new skin finally remembers what touch truly feels, and you give his hug back savouring his presence and the sensation, and he squeezes harder. After a few quiet moments he breaks the contact and takes you by the shoulders to have a better look at yourself. You felt his gaze roam over your body and as he does he smiles with disbelief in his eyes and reddish tone on his cheeks. He says, for him, in a whisper “you are beautiful” and louder “you … we are alive, in one piece and … well ?” and then proceeds to hug you once more and you can feel the laugh in his chest and your smile widening.

Suddenly he steps away looking unsure. “Well, first you probably feel the need to be a bit more … cover up ?” It is right, you are bare skin except where your blanket is attached on your shoulder. You caress it, it feels reassuring, “ I do appreciate the new sensations, or more precisely the old ones” You look at him “but yes some decency could do no harm, would you help me tie it up ?”. As you begin to unfold the fabric to put it around yourself like you did all these months before he approaches and helps you out. His touch is less confident than before and he moves delicately his hands around you. “You know Jayce, I will not break if you touch me, my condition since a few moments ago didn’t change” you say with amusement in your voice. “I know it is just that … I am still processing, and you were basically dead a few days ago and then … everything”. You catch his eyes “And who’s fault ?” your tone is mocking. He looks a bit embarrassed “Touché, but it was on your order, or another and hairier version of yourself”. You smile “I don’t think I meant to kill myself, you know talking could have been a solution”. He answers, still amused “ hey, am I the man of the action or not ?”. You both laugh, it feels good.

Elegantly covered up you look around yourself “ It is so strange, it seems that I have been there before, I have the same feeling from when I was in the arcane” you are watching at the almost endless grassy and wavy field, you spot some forest afar “but as you can see it is far more consistent” you look at your bare feet firmly grounded in the grass. Jayce is also looking around himself with a slight worry in his brows. You step forward and after a brief moment of hesitation you touch him on the shoulder. He looks at you surprised as your hand slides along his arm and your hands are joining. “Let’s go explore the world” you said facing the wilderness, and you look at him in the eyes “I can’t wait to see and experience what the possibilities in front of me have to offer” and you proceed to walk. He doesn’t immediately follow, forcing you to turn back : “Viktor I will never abandon you again” and on that you answer “I know, and you never did”. A brief moment passes and he joins you at your side, eyes glistening and a smile on his face, your hands are still firmly bonded, he adds: “Then go and I will follow”. And you both walk into this new intimidating but beautiful and quiet place.