#Fairly painless though

[gummywormsandkitkats]

Got a new piercing today!!!! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

ᵂʰᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᶦʳˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳʸ ᶦᵗ ᵒᵘᵗˀ (,,>﹏<,,)

[raythekiller]

🗒 ❛ Personality Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie

#Notes: just my general take on the creeps. hope y'all enjoy! requests open :)

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꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

He's a total fucking prick, for a lack of better word. He doesn't care about other's feelings, he thinks he's better than everyone so he's "allowed" to treat people badly, and he has anger issues to top that. Protesting against his bad treatment is gonna earn you some screaming at best and some blood spilled at worst, depending entirely on his mood.

He has the potential to be a good friend and person in general, he just doesn't want to. However, you might catch him trying to awkwardly comfort Toby or Ben when they have mental breakdowns. Well, not as much "comfort" but more of a shy pat on the back and a "Stop being a little bitch" comment, but that's his way of showing that he cares. Take it or leave.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Generally a pretty chill guy. He's not an extrovert, but he's still fairly outgoing when it comes to meeting new people (when he does leave his room, that is. He's kind of a shut in). Since he died when he was about twelve, I think he's forever stuck into the pre-pubescent boy mentality, so he can be quite the little shit.

That means he's also kind of a pervert and just immature in general. The type to play certain games just to gawk at the female character's slutty outfits and make fart jokes. He can also be very sarcastic and witty when he wants to, just a total smartass. Also, he's a pothead.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

Probably one of, if not the nicest creep in the manor. Very upbeat and cheerful, at least most of the time. As someone that has bipolar disorder, it personally doesn't make me very violent and as unstable as Toby is canonically said to be. What does make me does things though is my BPD, so I headcanon he has that as well. He's all sunshine and rainbows until someone says something in a slightly off tone and suddenly he's screaming and throwing his hatchets at the fucking wall.

That also means he's extremely clingy. He wants every last bit of attention he can get and is extremely possessive of people he likes. And, while he is nice most of the time, when he's having an episode he's probably the most cold and cruel person you'll ever met.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

One of the most chill creeps. He's not aggressive and kills only when he needs to eat, and tries to make it quick and painless for the victim. He eats any organs, not just kidneys. Also, he's a fucking great cook, Hannibal Lecter style. He really likes reading and is extremely intelligent, probably knows two or more languages, and is probably the most mature member of the manor after Slenderman.

He's not actually blind, but he's not not blind either. He sees the temperature of things instead of the actual object. He hates drama and argument and loud noises, so he normally stays away from the other creeps (especially our favorite trio, Jeff, Ben and Toby), but he gets along really well with Jane.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Another prick, though a more reserved one than Jeff. He's a perfectionist and natural leader, so he expects everyone to obey him without questions and no mistakes allowed. He has this rivalry going on with Toby because, even though he's the leader and Slenderman's right hand, he feels the tall guy has a certain favoritism or soft spot when it comes to Toby (which is true).

He gets very aggressive after missions and just wants to be left alone for at least a few hours, just until he calms down a little. After he's rested, he's actually pretty decent to be around, becoming less defensive and more accepting of others.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

The coolest guy ever. He's calm but great to be around and is always willing to listen to others when they need to vent. He's kind of the manor's therapist and gives great advice. He's mute, so he talks either through sign language or writing down on paper. He also plays guitar and likes to write his own songs sometimes. Ben and Sally really look up to him as a kind of cool uncle.

Since he's so level headed, he's always the one to calm Masky down when he's being a bit much. Toby really appreciates this, since he's normally getting the short end of Masky's bad moods. As mentioned, he's great with the younger members of the manor and just kids in general and they all love him. The type of uncle to give them candy while saying "Don't tell your parents" playfully.

[neon-kazoo]

Hold My Hand

[Cw: medical procedure (unspecified), emotional distress]

Hero squeezed their eyes shut, salty tears leaking out the corners and absorbing into their plain blue hospital mask. A warm hand pressed into their palm and squeezed their fingers, drawing their attention away from the feelings elsewhere.

“Breathe, Hero. Breathe.”

Any other day, and Hero would happily take the opportunity to spitefully disobey their life-long nemesis, but today was different. Today, their fighting energy was otherwise occupied. Instead, the crime fighter opened their mouth, focusing on expanding their chest as they sucked air in and letting it go with an extended exhale. They fought to repeat the process, their body grateful for the essential oxygen they had been forgetting to supply.

Villain squeezed their sweaty hand gently in encouragement.

Another indescribable jolt passed through their nerve and Hero’s breath hitched once again in response.

“You ok?” Villain asked, though the answer was fairly obvious looking at the red-blotched skin below them.

Hero threw their free arm straight in the air, pointing their thumb to the ceiling with a weak nod and an unseen grimace.

“Almost done, just two more,” the doctor informed apologetically, suggesting to the hero gently, “Don’t look.”

Hero clutched the blanket draped over their prone form (brought by the caring and friendly nurse) and dug their head into the ridiculously-thin pillow in dreadful anticipation.

A few more jolts and it was over, but— embarrassingly—the tears streaming down the hero’s face didn’t stop.

“You did it,” Villain soothed, running a light, distracting touch down their bare arm.

“It’s over,” the doctor chimed in sympathetically as she put away her instruments and stepped away from the bland gray bed.

Unfortunately, for Hero, it didn’t feel like it was over. Their mind replayed the test uncontrollably, the ghost of the sensation following the memory vividly.

Villain, sensing the hero’s spiral, draped an arm over their shoulder and pulled them in close for a hug. Hero melted into the painless pressure, snuggling their head close into the villain’s chest without a hint of embarrassment about their tears leaking onto the other’s shirt.

Later, over much-needed ice cream, Hero gathered themselves enough for a few simple words.

“Thanks,” they mumbled through lips coated in mint chocolate chip. At Villain’s tilted head, they continued, “for holding my hand.”

In response, the criminal simply shot them a chocolate-covered smile. Any more words between them went comfortably unspoken until the invisible vice loosed its grip and Hero’s words returned to their throat.

Villain was always available for appointments after that.

[fictionobsession]

devotion

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: She would give anything for him.

Word Count: 1,997

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, Alastor being psychotic

A/N: okay friends, first time writing for Al. this was not beta'd or really edited at all so if something seems weird just... assume I meant to fix it. also, this was written as a QPR, but there's a little feelings on reader's side if you squint. I'm not 100% on how in character this is for Alastor, but we tried and that's what matters right

---

She plopped onto the shitty couch and pulled her knees to her chest, looking around the shitty house where they'd been hiding out in the middle of this shitty swamp for the last two shitty weeks. The wallpaper was peeling and yellowed, the floors covered in mold and mildew, the running water only worked half the time, and, more importantly, the refrigerator was empty as of six nights prior. Her stomach rumbled just thinking about a nice juicy cut. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink into the daydream of food.

She knew when she'd gotten into this hobby with Alastor that there was a non-zero chance she would wind up on the run someday. She just wished they could have put it off a bit longer, had a bit more fun. She laid her head back against the rotting couch until she heard the creak of the floor near the front door.

Her eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed as she took in Alastor's hunting attire.

“Al, where do you think you're going?”

“Well, my dear, unless you feel like us both starving to death in this dismal abode, I thought I'd better go get some food.”

“Alastor. You know we've heard the dogs nearby. You can't possibly go out there without getting caught, at least until we've had a couple days where we haven't heard 'em.”

“Again, starving is not on my agenda, so we don't particularly have another choice.”

Another choice. Her face hardens as she realizes what another option might be. She stood up and crossed the room, grabbing Alastor's arm before he could open the door. “There is a way for us to make it out of this without you leaving. Or rather, a way for one of us to make it out of this.”

He hummed, and she could see the wheels turning as he put together what she was implying. “I'm not sacrificing myself for you to get away, you know.”

“I know. That's why I'm just asking you to get it over with quickly. You'll get more time, and I – well, I'll at least get to go out on my own terms. If I have to go, at least it'll be for you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, more reaction than she'd usually get, before he shrugged. “Okay. Painless it is. Not usually my style, but I think I can figure it out.”

She laughed, a genuine, full laugh. “I know, Al, and that's why we've worked out so well. But I think you could at least do that much for me.”

He pulled his hunting knife from where he had already slid it into his belt. “Are you ready?”

And with one nod, everything went black.

-

It seemed instantaneous, appearing in hell. She looked around, taking in the chaos around her. Literal dumpster fires, public sex, casual street murders, Hell had it all. Of course, arriving in Hell wasn't a surprise for her. You don't kill that many people and expect to get into Heaven. She wasn't even sure she had believed in the whole afterlife thing until she was experiencing it. She shrugged it off, finding the closest place with a mirror she could use for free.

Her body was... different, certainly. But intact, and honestly, she was quite happy with it. Given the various types of demons she'd seen just in her brief time there, it could've been a lot worse. She wandered, putting together a plan of action for getting herself set up in Hell. It seemed she would need income to make most things happen, which made finding a job a top priority. She also needed a place to sleep, as it seemed unsafe at best to stay on the streets.

She got a job fairly quickly at Ozzie's, though she wasn't thrilled with the outfit they made her wear for the whole thing. But it was money, and easy work, so she stuck with it. Asmodeus offered her a fairly decent rate on rent nearby, as well, so she could have done worse.

Shortly after getting settled, she started feeling pressure on her body in random locations and at seemingly random times, almost like someone was grabbing or poking her to get her attention. Occasionally she'd get hot spots, which she at first attributed to it being hot in Hell. Little scrapes and cuts would appear sometimes as well, but they always healed up quickly. It wasn't until the final time it happened that she realized what had been happening over the past few weeks.

A perfect bite imprint appeared on her forearm, accompanied by a sharp pain, and she realized it must have been an effect of Alastor in the living world. She traced her finger over the mark, which had healed into almost a scar, but not quite. It was a bit pink, but wasn't angry and fresh. She smiled a little to herself, happy that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

As time went on, she found herself tracing the mark when she was feeling stressed, upset, or particularly lonely. It never healed all the way, making it always a bit sensitive to touch, and served as a reminder of why she was here. The mark always made her feel closer to Al, which brought a little comfort when things got crazy.

She had managed to stay within the same few blocks that she knew were heavily policed by Asmodeus's people. However, six months into her stay in Hell, she finally had to leave her little neighborhood to buy some things for the bar. She packed her gun, a knife, and made sure she was dressed inconspicuously – the rumors about the surrounding areas were very...detailed...about what might happen to someone who ended up on the wrong side of a fight.

Unfortunately, her preparation didn't keep her from getting spotted by some Sharks outside the store as she started back toward her apartment. She tried to hurry, sliding between demons and other sinners, before slipping down an alley to attempt to lose her tail. It was too late by the time she realized it was a dead end, and the Sharks started cutting off her only entrance.

She took one step, two, keeping them in her sight until her back hit the brick wall behind her. Her hand reached for her gun, ready to pull it when the lead Shark got close enough. Their glares were paralyzing, and she could smell the smoke and alcohol on them at that distance. She felt herself start to shake, taking a deep breath to steady herself before -

“You wouldn't want people to think you're picking on those of fairer means would you?” The sound and feeling of static crackled through the air like lightning as a dark shape enveloped the opening to the alleyway. A long, thin shadow ripped through the air, straight through the lead Shark, throwing him against the side of the neighboring building.

Green sparks shone through the seemingly infinite blackness, a pair of what could only be described as antlers growing from the approaching shape. Two more tendrils, picking up the remaining Sharks and tossing them into the air like dolls. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't look away from the gore. Sure, she had seen a lot of violence in her time in Hell, but she hadn't seen that level of overkill in quite some time.

As the last of the Sharks fled only to get a tendril through the skull, she pressed herself as far into the corner as possible, sliding down the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. There was only the hope that the demon forgot she existed, and the knowledge that if he hadn't, she would likely be next up for second death.

The shadow approached, darkness fading as he got closer until finally it revealed a man. A tall man, with horns, but just a man, nonetheless. He was straightening out his red coat, and twirling something around in his hands as he approached. “Always good to have an excuse to let off a little steam. Always good.”

He put a hand out to help her up. As she lifted herself off the ground, he was already vaguely shaking her hand, introducing himself. “Name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure.”

His name hit her ears about the time he caught a glimpse of her bite, and both stopped dead in the middle of introductions. She looked up, eyes widening as she realized that yes, that was a microphone, and yes, in fact, it had been quite a while since she'd seen that level of overkill, one could even say since her living days. He looked different now, sure, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew that was her Al.

“Well maybe don't wait so long to come save my ass next time, eh, Al?” She smirked up at him, waiting for him to process what was happening. His nails traced the pattern of his own bite on her arm. She caught sight of his tongue tracing across his teeth, as if he was just then realizing how different they'd really become. “I bet your imprint looks a bit different now, doesn't it?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she reached to pull her sleeve down over the mark.

“Why, I should hope so, my dear. I should very much hope so. Let's see just how much it's changed then!” Without any more warning than that, he pulled her arm to his mouth and bit, hard. The new mark bled, sure, but it healed up more quickly than it probably should have, covering his old impression with his new one. His ears twitched subconsciously, his ever-present smile nearly faltering as he watched the blood drip, drip, drip down her arm. He shook himself out of whatever thoughts were distracting him rather quickly before acting like no time had passed at all since they'd been together last. “Now, I don't think I should leave you alone again. It seems to me that you still can't stay out of trouble, my dear! Come along, let me show you where I've been staying!”

“But – Hang on! Al! I've got to go to work!”

“Ah, there'll be no more need of that anymore. We'll send a notice to... whoever you're working for when you get settled.” He raised an eyebrow, practically daring her to argue. She knew, though, that she'd never gone against what he'd wanted before, and she didn't particularly want to start now. She took the elbow he'd offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the alley.

Occasionally, as they walked, she would catch sight of a shadow that seemed to be following them.

“Oh, don't mind them. They're just keeping an eye on your wellbeing. You better get used to it! Having a friend like me, why, other overlords will just be dying to get their hands on you!”

She scoffed, a look of adoration crossing her features before she tactfully replaced it with annoyance. “I'm not going to get any rest now, am I?”

“Oh contraire, ma cherie! You're going to get everything you've ever wanted and deserved. I owe you that after what you did for me up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh I just can't wait to show you Cannibaltown! You've got to meet Rosie, yes. You'll get along very well, very well indeed. And she makes the most delectable little treats! Maybe we'll go by tomorrow.”

As he continued rambling, she hummed approval when appropriate, watching him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of caution and longing. As he led her down streets she'd never seen before, she realized maybe this was all her afterlife had needed after all.

[comicaurora]

Hi, thanks for the awesome comic! I'm curious about two things: 1) Dainix mentioned having a teacher. What were they like? They seem like they had at least one good bit of advice, so cool person, maybe? 2) What was Dainix's training for Ravvan duty like?

Dainix started his combat training fairly young as a healthy outlet for some frustrations and difficulties he was having with his peers - when everyone but you has developed fire magic already, it's not easy being the odd kid out, and it's easy to start seeing enemies everywhere. His teacher taught him independently at first and helped him focus on directing those frustrations in healthy ways instead of engaging in any sort of direct retaliation or lashing out at random, and he was very driven to improve. It was never entirely painless, but when he decided to pursue the Ravvan training, its focus beyond the individual's skillset stressed teamwork and communication, and most of the rough edges got sanded off with time and practice - and it didn't hurt that Dainix was one of the most skilled hand-to-hand fighters and tactical thinkers in the group, and even the people who'd given him a hard time in earlier years grew very comfortable relying on him to have their back when it counted, just as he relied on them when he needed someone to do the one thing he couldn't. As he settled into his identity, he became a lot less angry and much more comfortable with himself and where he stood with his peers - though his teacher thought he never quite lost that need to prove himself, to make things just a little more difficult for himself just to prove to himself he could handle it.

[911coded]

Chapter 6: Don’t Dream It’s Over

The silence stretched uncomfortably and Tommy couldn’t think with enough clarity to even know what to say, what to do. What was even happening here? He could feel himself spiraling into panic again as his eyes watered.

John crouched and leaned over, “Hey, Tommy?” he whispered.

Tommy blinked, sighed, and turned his head to look at John from where he was now fully extended in the recliner from hell, “Yeah, John?”

“We can fly spaceships. With our minds,” he whispered with an encouraging grin.

Wide-eyed, Tommy turned his head back to the rocky ceiling, blinked, and suddenly it’s as if his body and mind clicked back together. “Cool,” he breathed.

“Would you like to see the ships that you will be able to pilot, Thomas?” The voice was gentle, hesitant, and seemed to be coming from the chair but also through Tommy’s mind, the same voice that he had struggled to understand while flying earlier.

Tommy glanced at John out of the corner of his eye for directions, but he seemed to be just as flummoxed as Tommy was at the conversation, so he decided to play along again, “Um, sure?” 

“Our sister ship, Atlantis, lost her fighters to the great war, but she has several small gateships that Primus Filius seems to enjoy.” An image of the base of a great steel city floating on an endless ocean was projected in the air above his reclined body and he and John watched as a tube shaped ship with wings darted into frame and seemed to skim along the water before rising to fly to the city glittering on the dark sea.

*******************

The check-in process was fairly painless with Lorne at his side, though the guards gave him quite the look when they asked if he had any weapons. 

”Swords, Buck?” Lorne chuckled, “I feel like every time I see you, you have a new surprise for me.”

“Eh, I got the impression that I would have to come up with things to do in my down time and I’m hoping to find someone to practice with, it’s been a while,” Buck said with a shrug. *

Once they made it past the security checkpoint, they went through a massive blast door and entered the mountain proper. Around a corner and through one more blast door, they passed the last checkpoint at the elevators, then Buck and Lorne began their descent deep underground to one of the most secure places in the world.

“Did you know that this facility was built in 1967 in response to the Cold War, in order to have a secure place to track long range Soviet bombers? It was designed to withstand a 30-megaton nuclear blast from as close as 1.24 miles away. Those blast doors take 45 seconds to open or close and though they are tested every day, they have only really been closed once, on 9/11.”

“No, somehow, I missed that in the transfer onboarding information,” Lorne snorted.

“Mmhmm, and it originally housed the NORAD Combat Operations Center. When NORAD moved to Peterson Air Force Base in 2008, Cheyenne Mountain was considered to be on “warm standby” and is supposed to be manned by a skeleton crew of military scientists that study “deep space radar telemetry,” Buck continued.

“I think I can actually hear the finger quotes you are using there, Buck, what are you getting at?” Lorne asked.

Buck snuck a look at Lorne out of the corner of his eye, “Wikipedia says there is a broom closet labeled “Starportal Command” from the tv show “Wormhole X-Treme!”. I may have made a bet with my friend Karen when we were wine drunk that it was the only true part of the article. You gotta help me out, here, I need to be right, Lorne, she’s too smart, it’s impossible to argue effectively with that woman. Honestly!” Buck exclaimed.

Lorne stared at Buck blankly for a full ten seconds before he lost it, leaned a hand against the elevator wall and laughed until he cried.

The elevator doors open to a tall blond woman with a smile on her face. The smile turned to a frown as she caught sight of Lorne trying and failing to get himself back together. Buck flashed her an innocent smile and leaned out of the elevator car, holding the door open, his hand out for a handshake. 

“Hey, I’m Evan Buckley, most people call me Buck,” Buck declared. The woman slowly reached out a hand, but paused while she stared at Lorne with her eyebrows practically in her hairline. 

“Is he going to be ok?” she asked, starting to look concerned, “Lorne?” 

Buck bobbed his head in a nod, “Oh, he’s fine, no idea what that’s about. Maybe he has a condition?”

Lorne manages to stand up long enough to punch Buck in the shoulder, “A condition?! You asshole! I’ve missed you, emails really aren’t enough to get the full effect.” Lorne groans, shoving him out of the elevator and directly into the intended handshake. “This is General Samantha Carter, head of Homeworld Security. She oversees this facility and our remote base from D.C., while making sure we continue to get the funds and people we need to run the program. She’s going to take you to sign the biggest NDA you will ever see, then to a conference room where you can meet everyone else.”

The General shook her head with a roll of her eyes like their nonsense was just the latest of her day. “Come with me, Buck, and we’ll get you sorted. You can call me Sam when I’m not giving you orders,” she said with a wink. Buck followed with a pout and Lorne stepped back into the elevator with Buck’s bags and a wave of his fingers.

Lorne wasn’t kidding about the NDA, Buck was rubbing his aching wrists as they traveled again lower and lower in the elevator. With a ding on sublevel 27, he followed Sam down a hallway that looked no different than the one several levels above them. 

“How do you keep from getting lost in here? I feel like I’ve been down the same hallway three times now,” Buck questioned.

“You get used to it, but the first few weeks are definitely a struggle,” Sam replied. “Ah, here we are!” With a perfunctory knock, she opened the door to what looked like a conference room. He could see Dave and Lorne whispering, heads together on one side of the impressive table, but had to guess at who the other man across from them could be. 

“Buck, you know Parrish and Lorne, of course, the other gentleman sitting there is General Cameron Mitchell,” Sam explains. “I don’t know where the others wandered off to, I guess I’ll do the explaining this time,” Sam gestured for Buck to take a seat and sat down at the head of the table. “The main reason you were asked to come here today is because of an incident during your time in Peru with Parrish and Lorne. Lorne was carrying a piece of technology that has a mental component and he believed that the technology was trying to make a connection to you. Lorne?” Sam gestured at Lorne. He stood up and reached into a pocket.

“Oh hey, that’s what it was! Is that one yours?” Buck interrupted with a giant grin, pointing to the LSD (Life Signs Detector) that Lorne had just removed from his pocket and made to hand to him.

“What?”

“What?!”

“The fuck?”

Buck startled and looked around the room, eyes wide, as multiple people shouted at once. He rolled his shoulders forward, ducked his head, and shrugged. “It sounds the same. Are there more?” Buck quickly forgot that he was uncomfortable and the questions continued almost faster than they could keep up, practically vibrating in his seat.  “Do they all feel the same? What is it? Is it an alien intelligence of some kind? How can I hear it? How does it work? This been bugging me for like 10 years now,” Buck wheezed out the last of his oxygen and before he could take in another breath to ask another question, Sam interrupted.

“How did you recognise what Lorne was going to hand to you?” 

Buck’s face blushed scarlet and he shifted about in his chair, “Uh, well, as you know, I met Dave and Lorne in Peru about ten years ago and every time Lorne got within three feet of me, I could sort of hear someone that wanted to be picked up, but there was nothing there. I didn’t want to look like a crazy person, so I tried to look around without making it obvious. Then I realized if I stayed in the same place, but Lorne moved, I stopped hearing it. Then, when I didn’t respond, it kept trying to give me instructions on pickpocketing. For all I knew, it was some weird rock you picked up on your trip or was some new technology that was heavily classified and I didn’t have any idea how to ‘talk’ back to it without doing it out loud, so I figured it would be one of those mysteries you never solve, the ones you ponder at 3AM when you can’t sleep, you know?”

“What do you mean by sounds the same?” she prodded, leaning forward across the table, the scientist in her now coming out to play. Buck leaned back in his chair and visually paused, trying to figure out how to answer.

“It has the same ‘voice’ for lack of a better word. Um, I, uh, don’t ‘hear’ it as words. More like…” he faltered a bit and Lorne cut in, “Emotions? Kind of projected at you?” Buck’s head tilted like a dog or bird mentally looking at something from another direction. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Emotion is probably the closest way to describe it, but also pictures?” 

“Wait. Wait, wait, it was sending you instructions visually on how to pickpocket?!” Carter exclaimed. “Neither you nor Sheppard ever mentioned visual feedback!” Carter accused, pointing at Lorne on the other side of the conference room. Lorne stood back up from leaning against the wall with his hands held up in surrender. “Other than the visuals on the screen, I never got anything from it other than a vague yes, no, excitement, or disappointment. Sheppard’s gene has always been stronger than mine but you know how cagy he gets when emotions come into play,” he said, with a smirk.

All eyes in the room are now on Buck and he struggled to explain the unexplainable. “You know when you are speaking to someone and you can hear what they are saying, but you are also picking up facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice to get the whole picture? Now imagine it is someone you know really well and you are talking to them on the phone. Even though you can’t see them with your eyes, your brain picks up what they would be doing anyway from the words and tone because your brain is filling in the gaps intuitively. That’s what I’m getting from the device. My brain is getting information that I can’t SEE, but is filling in the gaps so that I have the whole picture as if I were seeing it,” Buck said, looking around the room to see slack jaws and blank expressions.

Mitchell broke the silence. “Holy shit. Great job, kid, I almost understood that,” he said, chuckling quietly. 

Sam looked like she was trying to stare a hole through Lorne’s head. He shrugged. “That’s more than I get. They respond to my thoughts, but I don’t get much feedback at all,” he explained.

******************************

Tommy took a deep calming breath, “You said your sister ship, are you sisters with Atlantis? And what does Primus Filius mean?” Tommy asked, prodding the genderless voice along.

“At one time, we were many sisters, but though I can no longer fly, Atlantis and I are the only city ships left. Though we may not be sisters the way the first ones and you humans consider sisters, we have always thought of ourselves as such. Primus Filius is from the first ones’ language, it means first son. He woke us up and gave us life again, such as it is.” 

“Who did?”

“Why John, of course. John will not live for all time, unfortunately. And he does not enjoy talking to anyone who is not his Condictor(fixer). We need more sons and daughters, Thomas, but John has not given us any and your Stargate people are too secretive. They impede the process. I am afraid that we have been influenced by our hospites(guests). We grew impatient at the delay, and decided we would have to look for new sons and daughters ourselves.” There was an electronic humming sound before they continued to explain, “The endeavor has been difficult. Most that could hear us are too far away and those that are close often refuse to listen. Thank you for answering, Thomas. Will you and your amantis(lover) finally come home?” 

An image of Evan as he remembers him, smiling brightly in delight hovered over Tommy’s head and he finally accepted that Evan may be right about the universe speaking. In that moment, staring at Evan’s beautiful face projected above him, he realized that he was done running. He sat up and mentally asked the chair to let go. He felt a caress of pride from the voice and shakily stood up, John’s hand coming to his elbow to steady him. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, and on a count of five, he opened his eyes and turned to John.

“Tell me everything.” **

************************

“So, what does it do when it’s not trying to arrange its own kidnapping?” Buck asked. Lorne strolled over and placed the device on the table in front of him. He looked it over. The screen was blank and it was about the size of the old school Game Boy color he had as a kid. As soon as he picked it up, though, the screen flashed madly and changed functions faster than he could blink. “Whoa! Hey, slow down!” Buck whisper-shouted at the little device. He was getting an impression of giddy, but the device did what he asked and then started to show him each screen and “explain” what it did. While he was absorbing information as fast as he could, the rest of the room was completely silent, and after a couple of minutes the feel of multiple eyes on him started to sneak through the hyperfocus. Buck blinked a couple of times and looked up while his little friend pouted but stopped sending a signal until he could concentrate again. 

Parrish waved a bit in Buck’s direction, “You back with us?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s very excited to see me again,” Buck replied sheepishly.

Buck took a long look around the conference table at each of the faces watching him, “So, ok. Hit me with it. It’s aliens, right? Makes more sense than sentient rocks, anyway.” Dave let out a snort of laughter and held a hand out to Cam, who rolled his eyes and passed over some cash.

“Carter?”

“Right! Yes, well, the little device you are holding, Buck, is a bit of what is essentially advanced, alien technology. What allows you to connect and “talk” with it, is a gene that was passed down through the generations by one of your ancestors. The aliens, that we used to refer to as ‘The Ancients’ and now know to be Alteran, left behind bits and bobs of their creations all over the galaxy. We believe they engineered the gene to put a sort of “lock” on their tech so it couldn’t be used against them. They added the gene lock into just about everything. Any personal or professional device, even their ships and cities were built around using the gene to interact with technology. There are only two ways to tell if a person has the genetic history to operate this technology. We can run a blood test, or we can…,” her voice trails off while gesturing at Buck.

“Hand some unsuspecting person a random piece of technology that wants to talk to them?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, basically. I’m afraid that’s what Jack did to your friend Tommy,” she replied, sheepishly.

Buck winced, “Ah, yeah. I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon.” 

Sam cleared her throat, “Mr. Buckley, we brought you here today because we would like to tell you about the Stargate Program and convince you to join us.”

Notes:

*If my ex-boyfriend and I could find a Japanese trained kenjutsu master in St. Louis to learn from, so can Buck. This was more than 20 years ago, so I only remember enough to look up what I am picturing in my head. My participation wasn’t serious on my part, it was just for fun. The ex-boyfriend and his friends got good enough to compete after we broke up so my handful of lessons with a bokken is all I have to show for it. (Honestly, my favorite part was the flick to the side to shake off blood before sheathing your sword. Dramatic movie stuff, very fun!) The swords may come back in another chapter or may pop up in a one-shot, but the swords are NECESSARY.

**I used google translate and Latin to stand in for the names the outpost uses to refer to their chosen people. According to Stargate lore, latin, as we know it, comes from the Alteran language.

The gifs that I had in my brain that are projected in the air above Tommy:

Tags for those who asked: @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @anangrylittlehobbit @grimmsdead

[sunrayram]

im super interested in alastor’s and niffty’s dynamic in this au!! im not really sure how to word this question but do you have anything youve been thinking about with them, outside of him just being very protective/possessive over her, and her still being fairly loyal to him? any headcanons or ideas you have for the two of them?

Alastor has two whole friends before the events of canon, Mimzy and Nifty. Even though he'll never admit it, he desperately needs both of them.

I've gone into his relationship with Mimzy before, but she basically acts as the only person Alastor can really let loose around. Alastor only really has some genuine fun when Mimzy's around.

When it comes to Nifty, she's the closest thing Alastor has to family on this side of the mortal plane. Nifty is the first soul Alastor owned, and it was honestly a pretty painless affair. At the time, Nifty's ex-husband had still been alive in hell, and Alastor promised to keep her safe in exchange for her soul. The ex-husband has long since been dealt with, but Nifty has no complaints about Alastor still holding her soul. She once jokingly told him that it was likely in safer hands now.

here's some fun stuff about these two!

Alastor cooks, and Nifty bakes. Nifty is the only one who's allowed to go in and out of the kitchen with no complaints from Alastor, and they can spend hours there together, singing along to classic jazz from the radio.

Alastor is not allowed to just say whatever he wants on his radio show, since it's now a part of the Jackpot Casino. That means he has a lot of opinions built up that he's not allowed to share. If he's not yelling these opinions at Husk, he's passionately sharing them with Nifty. She thinks they're funny. Sometimes, she'll bargain with him. He'll be allowed to rant for an hour, and then she'll get an hour to read her latest fanfiction out loud. Only her sfw stuff tho, obviously. (She reads him found family fic as a not-so-subtle-hint of how she feels about him. It goes right over his head.)

Nifty and Alastor play a weird version of fuck/marry/kill when they have the same shifts at the casino. Nifty points out the people she'd fuck/marry, and Alastor points out the people he'd kill. It's fun, I guess.

Nifty really really wants them to get a pet. Alastor banned any discussion of dogs, and Nifty's slightly allergic to cats. She has a list she's been secretly making of animals she thinks Alastor would like. It goes as follows:

Possum: eats bugs. Frog: no fur, not dirty (?) eats bugs. Alligator: Alastor has an alligator skull. Might like them. Bat: eats bugs. Con: Might have rabies? Deer: Maybe some form of kinship. Pig: Actually pretty clean. Makes funny noises. Anteater: eats bugs.

Alastor loves collecting trinkets, which actually annoys Nifty to no end bc it means his room isn't clean/organized. He apologizes by bringing back little gifts whenever he goes out. He also keeps his collections away from areas Nifty frequents so it doesn't bother her as much.

Alastor has banned Nifty from gambling at the casino. The one time she tried, she lost almot 500,000 dollars in one night. Even Husk was horrified.

They're both a bit mad, but they like it that way. Nifty's one of the only people around who doesn't want Alastor to change. Whether or not that's a good thing ... ehhh who knows. But it's priceless to him.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 16. Blush

Aesop's two colleagues and oldest friends engage in their favourite activity - poking fun at the poor potions master.

chapter specific tags: friendship, teasingy established relationship, innuendos

relationships: aesop sharp & dinah hecat & abraham ronen, aesop sharp x reader

16. Blush (1.6k)

tw: suggestive themes suggested suggestively

The potions master sat down to eat his breakfast in the Great Hall. He had himself a very lovely weekend indeed, filled with romantic and erotic adventures with one very special seventh-year Ravenclaw. He had the amazing privilege to introduce her to the world of physical intimacy, and he felt fairly confident he did a good job at it, considering their mutual feeling of utmost exhaustion and contentedness by the time they disapparated from Wales back to the village of Hogsmeade. Their state of gratification was so strong in fact, they dared holding hands on their way back to the castle when they were certain nobody could see the two of them. There wasn't really anyone to see them, seeing as they entered the castle in the middle of supper time at the Great Hall.

The young woman followed him straight to his rooms, where they shared dinner brought to them by the Hogwarts house elves, and had the chance to try how Aesop’s bed compared to the one in his ‘aunt’s’ summer house. She slipped away under the Disillusionment charm in the morning, leaving Aesop with her sweet scent lingering upon his sheets and pillows. He couldn’t wait for her to finish Hogwarts frankly, couldn’t wait to be able to wake up next to her every morning, share breakfast on their own terms, and only then part for the day. Though this part will forever be done most reluctantly, Aesop supposed.

Still, as he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, he had to admit his spirits were higher than they were in a long time. Even his leg didn’t hurt as bad - he barely felt any pain in fact, and he only did when he was walking. Sitting or lying down, it felt almost as if he was never cursed at all. It was very strange, it hadn’t felt this painless since… Well, since before that horrible day at the end of January, so many years ago…

Shaking off his thoughts for the time being, he reached before himself to take hold of a toast, and actually whistled as he slowly spread orange marmalade over it. “Ah, there you are! Didn't notice you come back yesterday,” came Dinah’s voice from beside him as the DADA professor slid down into the chair next to his, her voice uncomfortably smug “though I suppose I wouldn’t have, you must’ve slipped into your chambers immediately, completely exhausted from all the physical strain.”

Aesop swallowed his bite, his eyes looking off into the distance unwilling to connect with those of his friend: “What exactly do you mean, Di?” “Why, you two spent the better part of almost three days walking around the woods, and I know how uneven surfaces can be a problem for you,” she explained inconspicuously, reaching out to add some scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes into her plate. “Did you use protection?” she asked then, and Aesop very nearly choked on his food.

“What?!” he whisper-shouted, eyes wild. Still he wouldn’t look at the woman next to him, instead becoming very very interested in the wall opposite of him, his hand nearly crushing his toast. He knew that was she to look in his eyes, she’d know instantly. “I mean, I’ve never been particularly interested in Herbology, but I remember some of the plants you were meant to get are quite poisonous and require the use of gloves. Though, as I see no skin irritation, I suppose the question sort of answers itself, doesn’t it?”

Aesop didn’t grace her with an answer, and instead tried to eat what remained of his breakfast as fast as possible, feeling flush begin to enter his cheeks. Dinah seemed to be happily enjoying her food for several minutes, unconsciously tapping her fork against one of the tomatoes on her plate while her eyes skimmed through the Daily prophet, until: “How’s your back?”

“How would my back be?” Aesop replied, voice dull and quiet. He tried to make a plan to get out of the situation, but a part of him knew that not engaging Dinah in conversation was as good as coming clean that this ‘herb-picking expedition’, as his sweetheart called it, was so much more than that... “Well, I do hope you were a gentleman and let her have the bed. And you know how your back gets when you don’t sleep somewhere comfortable,” her voice was the essence of absolute innocence. More blood poured into Aesop’s cheeks as he attempted to answer as calmly and normally as he could: “My back is completely fine, thank you for your concern.”

It seemed the DADA teacher was all done with her innuendos for the time being, and Aesop finally heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re back my friend!” Aesop tensed instantly. Abraham and Dinah’s favourite activity was poking fun at him whenever they could (all in good fun, of course), and it certainly felt like the older man appearing like he did to engage him in such a jovial sounding conversation was not a coincidence… That is, Abraham was always very jovial, but Aesop’s was already so strung up from Dinah’s previous words, he couldn’t help feeling suspicious.

“So, how did the deflowering go?”

Aesop almost suffocated on his breakfast for the second time. As soon as the tea was safely on its way to his stomach rather than his lungs, he turned to the Charms professor swiftly: “What the fuck, Abraham?!”

The older man looked taken aback by the little outburst, but didn’t lose the friendly look on his face: “Well, you spent the weekend collecting all sorts of magical flowers and herbs, didn’t you? Though, I do admit, the term might have sounded slightly misleading, and I apologise for that. Of course there wouldn’t be any other kind of deflowering going on, would there?”

“Precisely!” the potions master said rather loudly, accidentally attracting the attention of some of his other colleagues. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice once more: “Listen, I don’t care what the two of you are playing at, but I’d be very grateful if you let me eat my breakfast and go prepare for my classes today in peace.”

After a couple of completely unapologetic apologies, Aesop felt stable enough to return to his meal. If he wasn’t as hungry as he was after the passionate night, not to mention unwilling to look like he was fleeing from the two, he would’ve risen and left long ago…

“So, did you show her the road to heaven?” Dinah asked then.

Aesop’s cup shattered in his hold. Luckily he had just finished drinking his tea, so there was no liquid left to spill onto his robes. The sound of the ceramic breaking wasn’t loud enough to attract the attention of his fellow teachers again, but his two closest friends definitely raised their eyebrows at his reaction.

Not that Aesop saw them - no, he was looking down at his empty plate, feeling his face turning impossibly hot, and knowing he was red as a salamander. “I of course meant the trail towards the waterfalls near one of the mines, you always called it ‘the road to heaven’,” Dinah clarified, watching for his reaction. The potions master gave none, but simply rose from his chair and walked off without a word. Rather swiftly too, but without breaking into a full run. The DADA teacher couldn’t stop the chuckles from leaving her lips as Aesop Sharp left the Great Hall.

“Did we overdo it?” asked Abraham then, sounding mildly concerned. His colleague merely shrugged her shoulders: “Serves him right for thinking he’s so slick. It’s been more than three months, if he just manned up finally and told us, I’d leave him alone… Well, I would not, but I’d tone it down a little. Besides, he'll live. Since when does a former Auror let some teasing rile him up this much; he’ll simply drag his young eagle into his chambers, and she’ll rid him of all frustrations, I’m sure.”

—

Aesop Sharp sat in his office, face still red in embarrassment. What was going on with him? Normally, he was able to take all of his friends’ teasing on the chin and reply in kind, but this morning it was impossible to do. Why? Was it because they were right in their insinuations? Because while it truly was just innocent teasing on their part, for Aesop it was very much real? Or did they actually know? He sighed, and put his head into his hands.

A knock came upon his door, prompting him to groan. Class was not due for another 30 minutes at least! “Enter,” he said anyway, not lifting his head up. The door opened. “Aesop?” came the sweetest voice in the world, and the potions master immediately raised his head to look at the woman standing on the threshold of his office. “Is everything alright?” She sounded terribly worried. Aesop couldn’t help but smile at her, her concern touching him. “It’s alright, I promise. I didn’t see you at breakfast?” he said quietly, extending his hands towards her, and she instantly took them. He pulled her closer, now noticing she was carrying a piece of parchment in her hand.

“I was a little late, had a long night…” her eyes twinkled happily with a hint of mischief, “I was just on my way to Herbology, when professor Hecat asked me to go give this to you.” The potions master swallowed audibly, but nevertheless took the letter from her hand. He braced himself mentally before unrolling it. Next thing he knew, he was smiling at the words that stood against the white parchment.

“Good news?” his young lover asked hopefully, her fingers stroking his shoulders. Aesop’s hands reached her waist, and he pulled the Ravenclaw in for a kiss, the letter ending up somewhere on his desk.

Only a few simple words were written on it.

‘We’re happy for both of you. - D & A’

---

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[pennyplainknits]

Four blouses

A year ago I bought a metre of some very lovely and expensive Liberty Tana lawn. It sat in my small sewing stash until I could find a pattern for it. Eventually I settled on the Perennial Blouse. I was drawn to the simplicity of the shape, which lets the pattern shine will still being fitted and not the giant sack with elastic waist which seems so common in Indie patterns and which I have many many bitchy thoughts about.

I made a quick toile and found that as usual I needed to take length out of the body. It's designed to sit at the natural waist and I have a rather short torso. That's why it looks like a crop top but I swear it's not, that's just how short my upper half is! For reference I am 5'6" (167cm) and yet need a 32in (81cm) inseam, I really am mostly leg.

I made the cap sleeve version, and it was a quick and fairly painless project that is really elevated by the beautiful finishing on the inside and the thoughtful pattern elements, such as a button hole guide and separate pattern pieces for any interfacing, a well as properly drafted armscyes (the amount of armscyes that are symmetrical makes me weep).

Here's some close ups of the pattern and the cap sleeves. I was very happy with the pattern. It's very economical for fabric, taking under a metre, and it really lets the print shine. In fact I was so happy I uh, went a bit wild

I had to give away almost all my handsewn shirts this year as my upper chest and shoulders no longer fit comfortable in them (swimming regularly will do that, and my high bust measurement has always been out of whack for standard pattern sizing anyway). So I wanted restock my handsewn blouses, and I knew I liked this pattern. So I made more.

This is a white cotton broiderie anglais, For this one I raised the scoop neck about 1.5 cm, and lengthened the body by a cm. I love the contrast of the orange buttons. I made the bias tape from some plain white polycotton because the embroidery on the body fabric would mean it was harder to use.

I've added pictures of the inside for this one. As you can see there are no raw edges anywhere in this blouse, which I LOVE. The seams are all french seams and the neckline/sleeve seam/armhole are all bound with an understitched bias facing. It makes the inside SO neat and tidy. So many patterns skimp on the seam finishing, instructing you to serge or overlock them (I don't have an overlocker nor any desire for one). And really if I wanted seams that were overlocked together, why would I bother making my own clothes. It's a seam finish I hate! I really appreciated the time put into the pattern to make the inside nice.

Next up is this fun orange number that I made as part of a Star Wars bounding outfit (I was BB-8). A lovely embroidered lawn which was SO lovely and well-behaved to work with. I cut it on the cross-grain so I could have the embroidery and cut work running parallel to the button bands

And lastly, this one in silk. It was a NIGHTMARE to work with. It's whisper-thin and slippery and semi-sheer. I gave it gelatine bath which did help to somewhat stabilise the fabric as I cut and sewed it but it also made it super staticky. I think I should have used more gelatine because although it was slightly papery it was still slippery and seemed to stretch and deform if you so much as looked at it wrong.

(Wait, I can hear you say. Gelatine? Like the stuff sweets are made of? Yes! It's a way of stabilising very find or floppy fabric. You mix gelatine and hot water (I used a ratio of 1 tsp to 500ml water), soak you fabric, and let it dry, whereupon you iron it, and cut out your pattern. It washes right out of the fabric when you are done).

The fabric fought me every step of the way. I was nearly done when I slipped cutting a buttonhole and ripped a tear in the button band. I had to do a small patch job and you can TOTALLY see it but I'm hoping the pattern makes it less obvious.

The finished blouse is wonderful to wear though, so light and elegant so I think it is worth it.

[ninapi]

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ A Perfect Circle ╝

Premise: When you like the guy who likes the guy that likes you, things get a little out of hand, when a triangle becomes a circle not just one gets hurt.

Word Count: 2266

Note/warning: in this series I'm going for a bit of punk Yamaguchi, even if it isn't cannon is just my personal favorite, lol. Also he's bi here, so you've been warned, while this is not full blown yaoi or anything of the sort it does have mention of feelings for the same sex. Nothing hardcore, reader is female.

Chapter 1: Midnight Kisses

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

College wasn’t easy, your time off was basically non-existent, if you had any it was mostly to complete your assignments or study for a test, that of course plus the time you had to spend in your part-time at a local coffee shop.

So when your classmate, friend and crush, asked you for help doing his hair, you had to call in sick and forgo sleeping the night before to finish an assignment just so you could hang out with him at his dorm, of course, he doesn’t know any of this.

Yamaguchi Tadashi sits beside you every Thursday in finance class. 

For a while, that was all there was to say about him being in your life, however, his shy demeanor and cool appearance managed to captivate your heart from day one.

The transition from classmates to friends was fairly painless, he was funny and smart, you enjoyed his company a lot and he did as well, you were caring, helpful and smarter than him, meaning you could help him study. Great foundations for a friendship, if it wasn’t for his stupidly good looking face and those cute freckles that don’t even let you go a night without dreaming of them.

Thinking of confessing was pretty much not an option though, as when you became friends you got to learn he’s had an all time one sided crush on his best friend since high school and that friend happened to be his own roommate.

And a guy.

While it did break your heart for a while, you noticed he did like girls after all, he was open minded and gender was not one of his concerns when choosing a partner. So it wasn’t all lost, at least not for you, one sided crushes get old, and if the right person for you comes to your life they can turn to dust. Or that’s what you told yourself at least, to find motivation.

Yamaguchi had invited you over to his dorm a couple of times already and you met this other guy before, while you could appreciate his good looks and how tall he was, he didn’t seem at all like the most lovable guy out there, they barely had a conversation and it was mostly one sided as well, just like their entire relationship. It did make you feel bad for him, but it also made your heart shine with hope. He didn’t seem so hard to defeat and Yamaguchi certainly deserved better than that.

You arrived earlier than expected to his apartment, ended up taking a taxi afraid of being late and Yamaguchi was still on his way back from school; his roommate opening the door for you.

“Um, hi! I’m Yamaguchi-kun’s friend, is he back already? I’m supposed to help him with something today.” the tall blonde just moved to the side of the door letting you into their shared small home.

“He’ll be home soon, stuck in traffic.” he just nodded towards the couch motioning for you to just sit there and wait like a good girl, quietly. But where’s the fun in that?

“Tsukishima-san right?” unwillingly he just nodded once more, unplugging the kettle from the wall.

“Tea?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Tsukki wasn’t used to this type of sunny smiles, while he does have women chasing his every step, he manages to kick them all away as fast as possible; none of them ever caught his eye nor made him want to even chat with them.

But this time was different. He’s heard a lot about you from Yamaguchi and he feels like he already knows you, as weird as that sounds, he didn’t feel uncomfortable around you and that was definitely new.

“I have some fancy fruit tea my mom brought the other day, would you like to try that or green tea is fine?” why was he even bringing this out? He hasn’t even thought of this damn tea for weeks, but now he was suddenly very aware of all the snacks around the house that girls might enjoy.

“Oh I love fruity tea!” a small smile crept over his face, one that could creep someone out if seen up close, but thankfully you didn’t notice. 

“It’s a berry one…is that fine?”

“Yeah that’s lovely, thank you! You’re nicer than I thought you were.” chuckling, you nervously played with the tips of your hair, while you knew you’d be safe with him, this was pretty much the first time you talked to one another and were completely alone in the house just the two of you at the moment.

“Oh? Nah, you got it right, I’m not nice…” sighing, Tsukki shook his head while preparing your tea, then he brought out a tin with cute looking cookies which were not his in the slightest, yet he set a few on a small plate and handed it over to you along with a steaming mug of delicious smelling goodness.

“I mean…just look at those cookies and fancy tea! If you weren’t nice you would have left me here on my own and stay in your room eating all this goodness by yourself.” you were so delightful, he didn’t even think it was possible for a girl to be this nice to be around. No obnoxious questions or loud laughter, no flirting. Your smiles seemed real, you were truly enjoying his treats and company, no insults were needed, he could get used to this even if that on its own was a terrifying thought.

“Alright you got me, just don’t tell anyone…would hurt my reputation...” he laughed quietly and this made you smile even more. He wasn’t as bad as you thought and that was an understatement, he was actually nice and you didn’t mind one bit sharing some of your time with him.

A little under thirty minutes passed before Yamaguchi finally arrived home. He came in panting heavily, his face red with excertion as he kicked his shoes off and ran inside. “(Y/N)?”

“Yams! I’m here in your kitchen!” confused, he walked over to where your voiced echoed from, and was welcomed by a rare sight, Tsukki was sitting next to you on the other stool, both of you holding a mug in between your hands and eating some cookies while talking about turtles. Why turtles though? What did he miss? Was Tsukki smiling just now? He had so many questions.

“Are those…my cookies…?” he let out a loud gasp, an evil looking smirk covering Tsukki’s face immediately. “Can’t give her just tea, you know…I don’t own cute food….” he wasn’t mad at him for giving away his cookies, not at all, in fact he was enjoying how cute you looked with that bunny shaped cookie pressed to your rosy lips, a great use of the cookies he won at the convenience store lottery. What threw him off a bit was that Tsukki had just taken them without asking first, is something he’s never done before at least not with things like that.

“I’m leaving, have practice.” he got up from the stool, though not without giving you a soft smile and a nod before doing so, a rare sight indeed.

“Yeah….um (Y/N) is staying for the night. I think I told you already, but that’s fine right?” a part of him wished he’d get angry, jealous even, he wanted him to look his way, to feel threatened by the lovely girl spending the night with him; and he unexpectedly did look jealous, quite a lot I would say, but not for the same reason he wanted to.

“Yeah it’s fine, I left the air mattress on the couch so she can sleep better there.” when Yamaguchi looked towards the couch the front door could be heard being closed shut as Tsukki left the apartment, startling you, yet what startled Yamaguchi wasn’t the  loud bang but the fact that Tsukki hadn’t just pulled out the air mattress for you, but also set up two pillows, sheets and a fluffy blanket, his fluffy warm beloved blanket, one not even Yamaguchi has gotten to touch before. Just what on earth did he miss?

Deciding on ignoring his friend’s confusing behavior he went back to you who immediately fed him a bunny cookie as to distract him from the entire ordeal, which earned a smile and a giggle from him.

“Thanks, I needed that. Sorry I came home so late I tried getting here faster but the traffic was awful..”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have to wait for long and that tea was lovely~

So what did you need my help with?”

Yamaguchi’s hair has been getting longer and he wanted to do something fun with it before he had to cut it all off for his internship next year, “Oh yeah! Can you help me bleach the underside of my hair? I suck at it…”

“Sure! Just bleach? Or are you going to color it too?” Yamaguchi truly enjoyed the simplicity of this conversation. It was always like this with you, everything was so warm and cozy, lots of laughs and lingering looks, it felt different for some reason, like the entire opposite of the way how Tsukki is with him, he felt wanted.

“Just bleach for now. I think it’ll look cool. I also have been browsing online for tattoo artists, wanted your opinion with that too.” It’s been in his mind lately how he wanted to do something liberating, something that would mark a milestone, the day he decides to move on from Tsukki, to finally confront reality and be with someone who truly appreciates him and wants to be by his side, romantically, hopefully that person would be you.

“Oh show me, show me! Do you have an idea of what you want already?” scooting closer to him, you looked like a cute little girl trying to look at his screen, it was endearing, made him want to squish your face and made his heart skip a beat or two at the closeness.

“Just some lettering…though still not sure what I want it to say…maybe on my wrist, something I could cover if I wear long sleeves.”

“Oh this one looks nice!” the picture featured stylized lettering with butterflies on top of some letters of the word to accentuate the fancy turns and swishes, making it look like a fairytale title in some book. “Shall we get matching tattoos? It’s such a pretty style!”

This made Yamaguchi blush, his heart fluttering, while he hated the idea of matching tattoos within couples, it was such a pure hearted request it made him smile at the thought of sharing something like this with you.

“You mean like the very same phrase or like you have one half and I have the other?” 

“I was thinking of the first one but I must admit the second one sounds even more cute.” you were blushing too, both of you were sporting a lovely pinkish skin tone, as you both smiled at each other like fools.

“Then lets do it! How about the lyrics of a song we both like? Would be more meaningful and only us two would know what is it about.” this was exciting, you honestly didn’t think he’d say yes, that’s usually reserved for couples, but you weren’t going to complain, is what you wanted after all.

You spent the entire night listening to your favorite bands and taking notes on phrases you both would find meaningful or interesting, eating some pizza and laughing at each other’s silliness until both ended up falling asleep on top of each other on the couch after his hair was done. 

Yamaguchi opened his eyes first and noticed how you were dozing off on his shoulder. Your hand was fisting the side of his shirt while you nuzzled his arm like a cute tiny kitten. Made him want to kiss you, and that wasn’t normal for him. Since he remembers he’s only liked Tsukki, only wanted to kiss him, only wanted him. But you were making his heart burst every few seconds and you made him feel excited about the littlest things, life was brighter, happier, it was something he didn’t want to loose next semester if you end up in different classes. He wanted to move on with his life, to bring you as much happiness as you brought for him.

Unconsciously, he leaned closer and closer until your faces were only inches away, his nose pressed to yours, as he glanced down at you with a loving gaze.

His nose tickled yours and made you stir, though having him this close meant this was certainly a dream right? Why else would he be at a kissing distance? For sure a dream, so why not enjoy it…?...closing the short distance, you pressed your lips to his and he kissed you back right away without hesitating. It was a soft kiss, loving, tender, yet quite intense; lips molding with each other, hands gripping clothing and hair, cute mewls and little moans leaving each other’s lips every few seconds. In all truth you have no idea how long this kiss was, but as soon as the kitchen clock announced midnight, a loud horrified gasp and the front door slamming shut could be heard, Tsukki had come back from practice a bit latter than expected tonight and had witnessed the tail end of the passionate encounter.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Masterlist Next Chapter

[ohtobealady]

This is for @callhimnowmarisamylove … it’s not exactly that you were hoping for, but I hope you like it all the same. Missing scene: S3E8.

—//—//—//—//—//—//—

Women’s Stuff 3

“You know something, don’t you?”

Cora startled a little at his words, and she looked up and away from her book at the dividing door. “Oh! Robert.” She found where she was on the page. “You frightened me.”

“But you do, don’t you?”

“Do what?” She mumbled, but her eyes scanned the page. ‘Dearest,’ exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile, ‘awake and look at me!’ Morrel uttered a loud exclamation and frantic, doubtful, dazzled, as though by a celestial vision, he fell upon his knees.

“Honestly, Cora, I’m speaking to you.”

“Sorry, darling, but I’m only paragraphs away from the end,” she sighed, but tucked her thumb into the pages of her book and closed the cover over it. “Surely it can wait five more minutes?”

“No,” he enunciated, and began to untie his dressing gown, “it cannot. Especially because I suspect—” here he tossed the garment at the end of her bed and worked to slide himself inside her blankets. “—That you know something and you’re keeping it from me.”

Cora rolled her eyes, but chuckled. “I really haven’t a clue what you could be referring to.”

“Mary.”

“Mary?” She waited for Robert to finish adjusting the pillow behind his back before speaking, but her mind went immediately to where Mary was: London. “What about her?”

Her husband lifted his brows. His face looked brighter than it had been in months and months, and her heart grew a little in her breast. She felt her mouth soften into a smile. “She’s told you she’s pregnant, hasn’t she?”

And Cora deflated. “Oh, Robert—“

He chuckled. “I saw the way you glanced over to her yesterday. And today in the library, darting your eyes away from me. Really, Cora, you’re not quite as subtle as you think.”

“She’s not pregnant.” Cora opened her book and attempted to find her place again. “I’d tell you,” she added. “And that glance was for something else entirely.”

“Something else?”

Cora hummed, and she read. The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walking arm-in-arm—

“Then you do know something. Has it to do with—“

Cora sighed deeply and looked up. “With what?”

“They’ve been married for nearly a year, Cora.” She looked at him as he spoke. “Matthew hasn’t a living father. Do you think I should speak with him?”

She felt her mouth fall open a little as she studied her husband’s face. His eyes watched her, waiting, his pink mouth opened slightly in his earnestness. “It hasn't been a year, not as long as that. And besides, I’ve already said no,” she answered. “I think they both know all they need to know. In fact—“ she took in a breath, and then stopped herself.

“You do know.”

Oh. She was terrible at secrets. “Alright, but you mustn’t let on that I’ve told you anything.”

“What is it?”

Cora studied him a few moments more—the tired lines around his eyes, the crease between his brows, the evening stubble at his jaw—and again she closed her book over her finger. “Mary has to have a tiny procedure done—very quick, and very small—“

“—a surgery?”

Cora shook her head to ease the nerves she saw etch deeper lines into his face. “Not a surgery, Robert. A procedure. Lasts only a handful of moments and is fairly painless.”

He repositioned himself against the pillows, and he shook his head. “That still sounds rather like a surgery to me.” He looked over at her again. “And Matthew thinks this wise?”

“He doesn’t know. And I don’t think it’s our place to tell him, Robert. Really, I’m not sure it’s my place to say anything at all—“

“What? And when is Clarkson doing this?”

“It’s not Clarkson.” Robert still looked at her, and his brows bobbed higher. “It’s a Doctor Ryder in London. And she had it done today.”

“Is that why she’s gone? I don’t like this,” his anxiety now crept into his voice. “Some quack of a doctor doing—“

“—he’s not a quack—“

“—God knows what to our daughter and perhaps destroying her chances of ever having a child—“

“He’s a very good doctor, darling. Trust me.” Her husband looked at her, but this time the brightness she’d seen moments before had clouded over, and she knew why. How could she not? Her chest felt tighter, and she gave a small little smile to reassure him. “Doctor Ryder is well-respected and very knowledgeable. Truly. He’s done the procedure dozens of times. I’m not worried in the slightest.”

But Robert frowned. “You can’t be sure.”

“I am sure,” she let her eyes go back to her book when Robert began to cover himself more with the sheets. “It’s amazing what he knows just by appearances alone. And it helps that he’s kind. I’m certain he put her at ease.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

Cora stilled. And suddenly she realized she’d said too much, had gone a step too far in the truth.

She could feel beside her as Robert leaned to his left and back again, and she heard the sound of his book’s pages fluttering. “Cora? Do you?”

She heard herself make a little unintelligible sound, her ability to conceal anything from Robert not an ability of hers at all. Especially now. She wouldn’t hide anything from him now.

Cora looked up from her book, and held her breath. Oh. Her mouth moved open and then closed again. “Well, I—“

“How?”

“How?” she repeated.

“How do you know him?” Robert blinked at her, peering meaningfully, and Cora let all the air she held in her lungs escape. It was useless.

“Because I’ve been his patient,” she confessed quietly. Robert’s eyes widened.

“What?” He angled his body towards hers. “When was this?”

“Years ago, before the war,” she rushed out. She watched her husband do the quick tallying of math and memory before his mouth fell slightly agape. A quick look of hurt flashed across his features, and she felt herself crumbling. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you; it wasn’t meant to be a secret forever.” She tipped her head. “At the time, I didn’t want you to get your hopes up if it didn’t work, and then when it did, nearly a year had gone and—“

“It being the pregnancy,” he said in a flat voice, and after a moment Cora tried her best to nod.

They were quiet, and Cora felt her throat grow thick. “Seemed pointless to speak of it afterward,” she added quietly.

And then their quiet slipped into silence.

“You should have told me,” he said after some time, and she nodded.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Had something happened to you—“

“It’s really not that sort of procedure, darling,” she reiterated. “It’s very safe.”

“But it wasn’t necessary.” His shoulders rose with a deep breath. “We had our girls.” And, without warning, Cora’s eyes stung.

Oh, the past week had been better. She’d managed to avoid weeping, but Robert’s words—“had”—caught in her chest and ached. “I…” she did as he had done a moment before and pulled in a breath. She understood now why he had done it: so that he could speak around the emotion that she was sure was as lodged in his throat as it was hers. “…I wanted to make you happy.”

Nearly immediately, he turned away from her. He swung his legs over the side of her bed where she heard his book slide against the top of the table there. Tears threatened her composure.

“Oh,” her chin trembled, and she moved her jaw. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

But when he turned quickly and looked at her, Cora choked. “I’m not angry. No.” And as he reached his hand toward her, Cora could see that his eyes were teary. “Not at all.”

She took his hand and held it.

“Unexpected,” was all he said as an excuse as he turned his head away again, and she heard as he cleared his throat.

She tightened her grasp of his thumb. She let him sit that way for another moment, another two, before at some length, he turned again towards her.

“Goodness,” he chuckled, but wryly. “Apologies.”

“Don’t apologize.” She let him release her hand, and not knowing what else to do—how else to comfort him—she tugged the covers beside her. With a small grin, he pulled his legs up, and he pushed them back to where they had been.

“She’ll be alright,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “Perfectly alright.”

He nodded, but did not speak.

“Matthew should know,” he added, and she nodded. “She’ll tell him.”

“Hmm.” He nodded, too, and touched the covers at his waist.

She leaned to him, trying to catch his gaze. “Let’s try to sleep?” She pursed her lips. “You’ve got plenty of things to think about in the morning.”

“You’re right. The Cricket.”

She didn’t even roll her eyes.

“Didn’t you want to finish?” He added, sniffing, and nodded towards her book that still lay in her lap. “You said you were at the end.”

“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten. “Yes, I am.”

He held out his hand, and gestured with his fingers. “I’ll read aloud.”

“You won’t.” She opened her book, and shaking away the cloud that threatened her, she lifted her chin. “It’s just like you to swoop in at the best part.”

He laughed, a pitiful, wet sound, but all the same, it made Cora’s heart go skipping about her breast. “You always make me out to be much more calculating than I am.”

“Well…” Cora eyed him, assessed him, and then smirked. “Alright.” She passed the book to him, and she turned and settled on her left side, lying ever closer to him as he sniffed and cleared his throat once more.

“Here?”

She peered up at where he pointed and nodded. “At the break.”

His chest expanded, and he began. “The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walking arm-in-arm, Valentine relating how Monte Cristo had appeared in her room …”

Cora listened as he read, listened to the beautiful lifts and falls of his words, listened to the small crack at the vowels that had come from the emotion he’d buried away again. She listened to him, and she felt the hum of his voice against her, humming through his arm, his side.

And without much other thought, she pressed her lips to his sleeve.

He paused, and she looked up at him. Her eyes felt warmer and stung again, but she smiled. She lifted herself and finding his lips, she kissed him again.

“Darling—“

But she didn’t want him to speak; she kissed him again, and this time she felt him smile against her mouth.

“Shall I tell you how it ends?”

Cora kissed his prickly jaw, his throat. She felt his hand go to her neck and a finger thread into the base of her braid. She hummed. “Would it please you to spoil the ending?”

A laugh rumbled against her, and she closed her eyes.

“‘All human wisdom is summed up in two words…’” She knew he closed the book, and she was glad. She let her fingers find his cheeks and opened her eyes to see him. “‘Wait and hope,” he finished in a whisper.

And, wanting to cry, Cora kissed him again.

————-

Excepts from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

I’m still in love with the idea that BEN/Ben can’t physically kill a person. I dunno how actually common that is in the fandom, but I remember seeing a lot about this trope for Ben years ago.

Cause imagine how terrifying it’d be to go up against some of the other freaks, the ones that can physically cancel your subscription to life. Like sure it’ll suck being decapitated or eviscerated by a redroom figurehead or strangled by a brainwashed puppet of a monstrous entity, but at least you’ll die fairly quickly.

With Ben though? It’s gonna keep you alive on purpose just to fuck with you in the worst ways possible.

This fucker has an incredible mastery over technology, so of course one of the first things BEN (the AI created by Ben) will do is ruin all your relationships technologically. I’m talking sending horrible messages to your coworkers and boss, nudes to everyone that isn’t your partner, sending shit you’d never say from your profiles, and you can’t even deny you were the one sending that shit because the receipts are all there on everyone’s devices except yours.

You try to sleep as an escape, but that’s not safe anymore either. You have countless nightmares of various scenarios of your own demise. Drowning infinitely, falling into an abyss as everyone around you watches without a care. Being sacrificed as twisted figures of children in grotesque masks chant and cheer for your end. You wake up, or at least you think you’re awake, until suddenly the environment around you starts twisting and warping like your dreams.

You can’t tell what’s real and what’s in your head anymore. Have you lost sleep, and are now operating on sleep deprivation fumes? Or have you been in a deep slumber this whole time, one that cycles you through horrible realities that all end with your name as an obituary by the end of the week?

Eventually it’s too much. The taunts from whatever is doing this to you become too much. It ruined your life after all, so what good is it still worth living for? However you choose to take yourself out of the equation, Ben will be there, watching, deriving nothing but satisfaction and enjoyment from the scene of it all. Most choose simple ways to go, easy, painless. Ben loves it when they choose more complex ways of suicide. His favorite obviously being drowning.

Not to mention the fact that in my AU, Ben created all the other digital creepypastas. I know people like to associate Smile Dog with Jeff, but the thing is literally a cursed chain mail image that haunts people in their nightmares. That has Ben written all over it. Sonic.exe, Godzilla NES, any and all Pokepastas, it’s all Ben. If it exists in technology, Ben had a hand in creating it. He can’t be everywhere at once, and he certainly can’t hone in on multiple people at once. His form of murder is an art, dammit, and he has to dedicate himself entirely to breaking someone into offing themselves. Of course, being able to only do one poor shithead at a time was really inefficient, thus the creation of the BEN AI and the other technology pastas exists.

I feel like this trope for Ben is so heavily underutilized, we need more manipulative, 5head genius mind game player Ben in the fandom.

That, and my version of Ben is physically the weakest. Out of all the undeads, his body is the most frail, and he doesn’t have as much control over his physical form as the rest do.,Besides, gamers are also the weakest among society, everyone knows that, and Ben is no exception. Don’t skip leg day next time ghost boy

[missilestorms]

Gay Bruno/FAB Discord

Hello!!! So, for about a year and a half now, I and other Encanto fandom members have been hanging out chatting about Gay Bruno and FABshipping (Félix, Agustín, Bruno) on a discord called STORKIN, and we are opening it up a bit more! @pogona and I mod it.

It is 18+ and porny, no incest. Some discussions have also included:

Osvaldo in all his glory

Lesbian Isa and Plants

T4T Pepa/Félix

Bruno/various Male OCs

About 4000 AUs, including FAB cowboy

If you are interested, click this link to join :] We’ve got a fairly painless process for application though we do reserve the right to limit member numbers.

(Art by @pogona)

[xavviluin05]

Cultsona: The Resurrection Episode

This is the beginning of a series of posts exploring an alternate storyline for the game Cult of the Lamb.

The Lamb is dead, and the Bishops are celebrating the ultimate victory of the Old Faith. However, things take a dark turn when a special dish is served at the feast—meat from a young bunny...

Rabbits, in this land, are deemed a delicacy, creatures bred for slaughter. The act of consuming their flesh is a token of dominion, a sinful indulgence—and this rabbit was no exception. Fate "graced" her with the dubious honor of becoming the centerpiece at the bishops' celebratory feast. They marked the anniversary of their triumph over a particularly vexing lamb—a hero who, in my alternate cosmos, failed their sacred mission. In this retelling of the canon, Narinder does not grant immortality but merely a second life. And upon their second death, the lamb departed this world forever. (Immortality exists, true, but it offers no shield against a violent end.)

Yet death was not the rabbit's finale. Instead of oblivion, she found herself in the domain of Narinder, The One Who Waits. Her fury, burning like a blaze, held the power to raze to ashes the ancient faith they both despised. It was this untamed fire that drew Narinder’s attention. He proposed a pact: in exchange for a second chance, a crimson crown, and a fragment of his dark power, she would serve his will.

In return, the rabbit swore a solemn oath to establish a cult in his honor, to serve his will with unwavering devotion, and to fortify his power through sacrifice. Thus began the dark and fateful chapter of her reborn existence

Narinder had to put much effort into the resurrection of the cultist, for little remained of her previous body, as it had been devoured by the bishops and their inner circle.

Because of this, the resurrection itself could hardly be called a pleasant or, at the very least, a painless process.

Once she regained her senses, the cultist cautiously ventured to explore her surroundings.

She discovered an ancient temple, at the center of which stood a pedestal, upon which lay a book adorned with an image of a crimson crown. It intrigued her deeply, and she decided to take the book with her, just in case.

Not far from the temple, she found a fountain, which greatly pleased her. There, she was able to wash off the remnants of her own blood, which somewhat lifted her spirits.

However, her mood darkened when she stumbled upon the remains of the former owner of the crown, the lamb.

The remains were clothed in attire that seemed to be in fairly good condition. After some hesitation, she decided to take it.

She also took the bell. There was something unsettling about leaving it behind with the clothes. It felt as though something bad might happen if she did.

As she continued her journey through the valley of the lamb, she finally began to read the book she had found. To her surprise, the book was no ordinary tome. It described powerful spells, those only accessible to the one who possessed the red crown.

Wandering through the surroundings, she stumbled upon a stranger.

He explained that he had heard the sound of a bell and had come out to see who was walking around. He mentioned that he hadn't seen anyone for many months in this remote place, but as soon as he laid eyes on the red crown, he immediately understood what had happened.

The stranger introduced himself as Ratau and invited her to his home, which was not far off.

Unfortunately, Narinder could not directly witness the events unfolding in the world. He could only rely on the words of his followers, and they had been absent for a long time.

Back during the reign of the lamb, Ratau's heart slowly began to consume itself with envy. When he saw the new possessor of the red crown—lonely, confused, and weakened—his indignation flared even more.

This pitiful creature was unworthy of the red crown. It should be HIS, and HIS alone.

During the day, they managed to chat and have tea, but the stranger grew more and more unsettling to the cultist, who noticed oddities in his behavior.

Because of this, she spent the night restless. When she heard the soft creak of a door, her heart fluttered, and she was seized by a shiver.

Fortunately, the cultist had already managed to read something in the book, and in her panic, she accidentally performed her first sacrifice, which finally allowed her to contact her master.

During the time the lamb was absent, Narinder had lost some of his strength and could not directly communicate with his follower. But this sacrifice replenished him, and he finally spoke.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't think that the little rabbit is some innocent lamb. She has enough cruelty and anger in her, but it hasn't fully emerged yet.

For now, she has no other option but to escape; she doesn't know how to fight, and she wants to live. Because ahead of her are so many unfinished tasks, among which is the killing of the spider who sold her as a dish for the bishops' table!

The thought of his death soothed her soul right after the words about the possibility of a second chance.

This is where she and Narinder are alike—they live for revenge. It's because of this bond that, in the future, they'll continue discussing things between themselves purely for pleasure, even though their relationship can't be called healthy.

As I said before, Narinder doesn't care about her well-being. Her suffering only provokes his mocking laughter. The little rabbit understands perfectly that she’s been used from the start, and so she hasn't developed any special affection for him.

But they depend on each other too much, and over time, they’ve somewhat come to terms with one another.

After the incident with Ratau, she could no longer trust anyone and was always on edge. She slept with a dagger in her arms for the rest of her days.

But, strangely enough, the only creature she could fully trust was Narinder. Because for him, there was no point in maiming or killing her as long as she did her job properly. In his world, she could find a bit of peace, breathe out, and not worry about being attacked

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[2000sanimeop]

Final Fantasy III

Impressions so far: why have I never seen anyone talk about how funny this game is?

This game had me wheezing several times within the first hour. This game's Cid gave my party the keys to his car and told us to drive into a bolder as fast as we could and was like 'well that just happened ' when the boulder and car both exploded.

It feels a lot more like FFI than FFII did, weirdly. II is more like IV, VI, or even XVI with its plot and insistence on killing off as many NPCs/party members as possible. FFIII is about four six-year olds that all the adults decided are the Chosen Ones.

The battle system is a little too random, though I do like it ok. But it's a toss-up which of your party members will act first on any given turn, which can make it hard to strategize. I often find myself healing post-battle in the menu. The job classes are neat and the automatic equipment optimization makes switching between them fairly painless.

Also wtf happened to some of the sprites. Compare and contrast:

FF2 pixel remaster Basilisk sprite vs FF3 pixel remaster Basilisk sprite

That second one is a guy in a costume. Or something.

[camillathe6th]

number 4? ^_^ 🩷

Hi!! Thank you so much--sorry, these got derailed by family time, but I'm back with a stupid-ass prompt. Wanted to try my hand at Nadeem and Una bantering next, so this is where we are. I think this counts as a kiss, even if SOME PEOPLE (Una) are making my job harder as usual.

4. (A kiss)... where it hurts

2089. (NADEEM)

Something pulls me back from the dark. Maybe it’s the hard jolt of the car under us, jostling my wound into night-pulsing pain. Maybe, most likely, really, it’s the clammy warmth of her ungloved hand, tense on my forehead, spreading into my hair, a hard hold, a rough caress.

All this took was dying, then.

Jokes later: first assess. Pillowed: my head on her stiff thighs. Stomach wound: open, quenched with cloth, still gushing. Lost consciousness, I did, but not for long. Good enough. Questions still: how did we get here? This car—how did she get a car?—, this backseat, this road, which road? It’s damaged, which means we're going south, every bump a very literal pain in my derriere. She’s tense under me, though, curbing some of the asphalt impacts before they reach me, keeping me still.

“You’re awake, jackass,” she states, suddenly, correctly. I open one eye. She’s wearing her mask still; I can only guess at the grim line of her mouth, the hard clenching of her teeth, but I can see what she’d want to hide, exactly what she’d want to hide: mirrors of the soul, eyes red and burning.

What, tears, for little old me? I close my eye again. Damn. Getting gutted feels sweet.

“I’m alive?” I check, just in case. Who knows—maybe my heaven is Una’s uncomfortably hard thighs under my cheek, just like this.

“No thanks to you,” she hisses, pulling at my hair, stopping just at the edge of painlessness. “Are you fucking insane?”

“And you’re alive,” I smile, sliding into the pulling, “very much thanks to me.”

“I don’t need you sacrificing yourself for me,” she barks. “Did you forget I’m the bodyguard?”

“Well? Then guard my body better, conscript.”

“Oh, sorry, I was working under the assumption that you had a brain.”

“I forgive you.” I’m generous like that. I open my eyes again: the gaze that meets mine is a punch to the gut, as heart-hammering as a tongue to my throat. “You didn’t stitch me up.”

She looks away first. Always first, my lovely coward.

“I can’t.”

“Come on. You know I tru—”

“No,” she snaps back, taut as a rubberband. “You’re fucked up, you stupid idiot. What did you want me to do, kill you faster? You need a real medic. We’re on the way.”

We’re on the way. What did she do to get this car? Downfade doesn't have cars. Who’s driving, and who’s waiting for us? Who did she call?

I know—I know who she called. She shouldn’t have done that.

“Una…,” I whisper, and touch her face, just a finger, just two, just a tugging back to me. Her frown is a dam, cracked and quaking. “I don’t understand… Why didn’t you just kiss it better?”

The frown-dam hardens, blissfully dark, a stronghold of comfort against sentiment.

“I don’t know, Nadeem. Why don’t I punch you in the dick?”

“Fine. If you insist. Let’s compromise—”

“Don’t.”

“—You can kiss me on the dick instead.”

“Thanks, but I don’t give losers head,” she fast-grabs my hand before it brushes her jaw. “Also, I’d rather drink acid.”

“Hey. Come on. I’m fairly sure I taste a little better.”

No mouth: can’t prove the quirking of her half-smile, but I catch it, the slight crinkle of her eyes, speaking of chuckling just bridled.

“Just as lethal is what I meant,” she mutters, settling my hand back on my chest, and getting trapped between my fingers for her trouble.

“Uh-oh.” I stroke the length of her index, from split knuckle to bitten nail. “You’re making metaphors. I must be dying.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not dying.”

“Would you cry?” I coo, honey-sweet.

“I would break your stupid face, asshole.”

“Wait. You mean you’d keep my corpse with you? That’s so romantic.”

She huffs: I win. I win, so I bring it—I bring it, her hand, split and bitten—to my mouth, and kiss the trembling away. This is where it hurts.

“Yeah,” she doesn’t blink, tensing. “You’d make a great punching bag.”

“But less fun without the enthusiastic moaning,” I hum, gratified, keeping her fist close. The world has slid back into the dark, but only because I must have closed my eyes, just for a little while. I can feel her pulse around me—her heart, her flesh, her breath, and the pain too, my pain, faraway, kept leashed by the tight stranglehold of her torn shirt.

Her voice is just a murmur now, spearing through the haze.

“I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me, Nadeem.”

“You said that.” Almost that. The difference isn’t lost on me. “Are you going to say thank you, though?”

Her shifting is a—heart-leap, breath-theft, making me gasp, in pain and pleasure both—as she bends, bends over me, and cradles my head in the embrace of her arms, and clasps her burning cheek to mine, a mask-cloth away from contact. Against her Kevlared chest, I shiver, I press closer.

“No,” she mutters. “Fuck off.”

I snort, and give my mouth to the hollow of her throat, where her blood pumps as quick as mine.

“Good. You’re welcome, jaanu.”

Other prompts here.