#I can think of a way to get Inferno in there? I’m not too well versed in his character tho

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

NOW IM CURIOUS do you have a theory as to what happened to suo’s eye?? i’ve seen a few suggesting he’s a victim of human trafficking, was sold into slavery by his abusing/powerful parents, etc. i’m still not sure what i think happened 🥲

hmmmmmmmm ok so lemme be so frank here im still rlly new to the wbk fandom so im still no so familiar with the theories and inside jokes n allat so bear with me here ok

the human trafficking and slavery thing is actually really interesting because there are a lot of things about suo that stood out like a burning red flag to me while i was reading the manga. if you didn't know this, i'm chinese and i know a lot about chinese culture and i speak mandarin fluently. in chinese, suo can be written as 锁, which means lock. wbk has a lot of characters whose names represent them (ie; sakura - cherry blossoms are often representative of sakura in manga panels, endo - it can mean fire and it describes how he talks about takiishi like a "burning inferno"), and suo's meaning lock in chinese and him being fond of chinese culture and items is really interesting, because a lock holds something down or keeps it away.

and i know that there is a kanji (japanese writing) for his name, but this is interesting as well. the 2 kanji that make up "suo" mean "revive, resurrection" and "raft, wood". revive or resurrection almost means to be reborn in a way, or to live a whole new life or to come back from the dead, perhaps hinting that suo has revived from a near death experience or the lowest point of his life. the raft and wood part could imply that he escaped whatever he was locked to (likely trafficking) using some sort of raft. i also know that the letters combined means "sappan wood", which i just think is a reference to his character color because this is literally the color of sappan wood dye:

now let's get into the main part of this theory. we have heard time and time again that suo is fond of chinese items. his last name can be translated into "lock" in chinese. i've mentioned that he might've escaped from whatever he was locked to by some sort of raft. i'm going to talk about some heavy topics, so bear with me here. i believe that suo might have been born in china, got trafficked, then escaped to japan overseas using a raft with help, then changed the lettering of his last name. outlandish, i know. but i have evidence.

we know that suo doesn't move in his sleep from an official art by nii satoru. weird timing here, but in history, when african americans were on ships to be sold off to slavery, they were shackled to tight and compact spaces to sleep and eat. i'm so sorry if anyone is sensitive to these topics or thinks that talking about this stuff because of a manga is ridiculous, but since this is a theory, i had to bring it up. i'm sorry. but the slaves weren't allowed to move because there were so many people, and it would be too hot and too crowded if they moved around. plus, the shackles restrained most of their movement anyways. i suspect that suo might've been in a similar situation and just developed a habit of not moving around in his sleep.

i'd also like to mention that human trafficking is, unfortunately, still a heavy problem in china. north korean escapees--especially women--will nearly always require the help of a smuggler, who is a man (who, in this specific scenario, is chinese) who will smuggle them into china but sell them to human traffickers. i doubt that this is the case with suo, but i think it's still an important topic to bring up when we're making a theory about a character who could potentially have been trafficked.

now here's some more. here is a map of east asia.

as you can see, there are definitely ways to get to china to japan by boat. i don't think suo could have ever rafted here alone; i don't think some random kid would have been able to register himself an id or anything either. suo is 15 currently in the story, and we know that he's been in japan long enough to make a name for himself. and in case you're pointing out "but his first name is japanese!", people can legally change their first names.

the reason why no one knows who he actually defeated in middle school, if this theory is true (which is highly unlikely), is because he was middle school age, but not actually in middle school when he defeated them. maybe he was still in china at the time. idk.

so short answer: yes, he was human trafficked, and there was some sort of scar left behind. sorry i had a whole yap session, i kind of looked into the og mentioned theory because i'd never heard this theory before, but i ended up getting invested and made my own😭

[iconicanemone]

Some tf ships I casually like are Mirage/Hound and Red Alert/Inferno. And I’ve been thinking on how they could be in the Jazz Mecha Pilot au.

Mirage and Hound? Came to me easy. Mirage ends up on earth one way or another, ends up meeting Hound, a farmer.

Inferno and Red Alert was a little difficult, but the idea of paranoid Apocalypse preper Red Alert ending up in the wrong place and wrong time and ends up in a quintesson attack, and then this giant robot comes crashing in and saving him. This could be both Cybertronian Inferno as well as Mecha Pilot Inferno.

for both of these I don’t really know in details how they’d work out as much. But it’s fun to think about

the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au is made by @keferon :3

[azsazz]

Just Hold On

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand just loves to make you cum.

Warnings: Smut, prolonging orgasms, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, m dom f sub, oral, f receiving.

Word Count: 1,239

Notes: I should be writing smut for Kinktober but you know how I be.

_________________________________________

Hold on, darling, he purrs in your mind and you want to scream. Your chest builds with it, burning hot as he holds you on the cusp of oblivion. You try to jerk against his mouth but he wills your body still, rubbing the inside of your thighs that are shaking with the urge to slam closed around his head. I’m not quite finished yet.

Please, you cry in response, but the blood in your ears drowns out his response. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe the longer Rhys tortures you like this, the building ache between your legs for the need to release is too great. Your fingers twitch but you can’t unfurl them where they’re clutching the sheets. Please, I can’t–

You don’t have to worry about if you can’t, darling, Rhys answers, sucking harshly at your clit. It makes your spine want to curve off of the bed, toes curl into the sheets but you can’t do a godsdamned thing with the grasp he has on you. 

You might break. He might very well shatter your mind for this, or trap you inside this inferno of passion so great that you feel like you’ve descended into Hel itself. Mouth parted in a silent scream as he works, taking his fill of you until you’re a begging mess. His filthy words in your head ring in time with the way he’s flicking his tongue, swirling around your aching bud, red and swollen as he nips and sucks.

I think I might just keep you here all night, he admits sinfully and you want to cry. Your nose prickles with the feeling of the emotion and tears well in your eyes but not a single one falls. You’re forced to beg instead, utterly unable to move a muscle, even if your thighs are shaking and your chest aches with the pounding of your heart.

It’s the best you’ve ever felt but also the worst, stuck there as he draws your orgasm from you like you’re nothing more than his plaything. 

Rhys, baby, please, I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much, you beg, but the High Lord feasting between your legs doesn’t falter. Your words mean nothing to him and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s blocked you out completely, ready to take what he wants as he always does. Gods, your frustrated scream is in your own head he teeths across your clit, pulling it with a harsh suck. 

I love it when you get all needy. His voice in your head all languid and delighted sends fire coursing through your veins. Makes my cock so fucking hard. 

He lets your mouth part in a moan that rattles the walls. It makes him shudder and bury his face deeper. His cock leaking against his thigh, and his hands are pulling your waist tighter and tighter against his face as he releases you, wanting you to writhe and fight him to get away from the pleasure he’s pulling.

Your heart slams in your chest and your hands fly to his hair, gripping the dark, damp, tendrils in a firm grip. You try your hardest to rip his head from your cunt but he’s too strong, too adamant about making you cum again and again and again.

He’s being sloppy with it, tongue moving in long strokes across your cunt. He even dips down and slides his mouth against your hole, which causes you to jump. Rhys is ready though, teeth exposed so your  swollen clit grazes across them, tearing a whimper from your mouth. 

Cum for me darling, let me taste you.

“Haven’t you had enough yet?” You pant, but you can barely speak with how heavy your chest is moving, begging for air.  Rhysand doesn’t allow it, his hold on you strong, even with the amount of times he’s made you practice shoving him out. 

Pleasure coils your body like a viper. It’s building in your gut, so deep inside of you where no one besides Rhys could ever reach. He toys with you, and the unmistakable feeling is mirrored in his own body, the bond reflecting your emotions tenfold. His cock aches but he refuses to touch himself because he’s too busy touching you and he wouldn’t dare remove himself from your body. 

You are the air I breathe, the essence that gives me life, his words add to the heat pooling in your gut and you clutch him tighter and tighter as he draws you nearer towards the edge. I will never get enough of you.

Like a whip, you come crashing down. You rut against his tongue like something desperate, squeezing his head between your legs as you pull him tighter by his blue-black hair, rocking against him. He lets you, lets you take from him in that desperate way he always feels when he’s around you. It’s the primal need to be near him, to be inside of you, your souls match each other's. 

If he could cut you open and climb inside of your body he would, and he loves the way you take what you want from him, even when he’s the one holding you on the cusp of your orgasm. 

It lasts too long, as Rhys takes hold of your mind, the only way he can be inside of you is to do so mentally, and the euphoria he feels inside has him finally allowing himself to give his cock a stroke. He prolongs your orgasm, keeping you in the kaleidoscope of emotions whirling around in your mind, body, and soul.

Your breath is stuck in your chest, the feeling overwhelming, even more so than the plethora of orgasms Rhysand has graced you with this evening. You can barely feel the light lapping of his tongue between your trembling thighs. You can hardly hear the soft moan he makes as he suckles your juices like they give him life. He fists his cock roughly in his hand. He won’t let you come down from your high until he’s cum too.

It feels like you’re blind, with the stars and spots consuming your vision. There’s a ringing in your ears and a rattle in your chest. Your fingers are stiff, aching from your grip in Rhys’ hair and your muscles ache from being locked up so tightly.

He releases you all at once, cum spurting from his cock and onto his legs, the bedding that’s slipped off the side of the bed, the floor. Air whooshes from you and your body goes lax. You keep your hand in his hair but it’s softer now, petting, reassuring yourself that he’s here with you. 

Rhysand kisses your thighs softly and continues up your body until he’s settling across the bed and pulling you into his body. Your eyes flutter open weakly to meet that glorious violet gaze, and your heart skips at that perfect smirk he’s wearing. 

His eyes are soft though, no more teasing than he usually is, and you can taste yourself on his mouth when he kisses you gently, dipping into your mouth for a sweet kiss while he holds your pliable body closer, tucking you into his side like he likes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your cheeks, nose, across your eyelids because you’ve closed them again, beyond exhausted. Rhys brushes hair from your face, admiring you, glowing in the buttery light of his room. 

His mate, his muse.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! I was just babysitting a friends toddler a while ago. He was four and already LOVED transformers. He expecially loved Bumblebee, and got this mini figure of a Bumblebee (I forgot what version unfortunately) that he thinks is like a guardian angel that can chase away nightmares and monsters and even turn him into a transformer one day as well! And this was SOO cute! So may I request a scenario of G1, TFP, TFA, as well as ROTB Bumblebee meeting a human equivalent of a sparkling that absolutely ADORED him and think he can do anything? Who even claims when he grows up he wants to be a transformer too just like Bee and fight alongside him one day?

All of this... so CUTE! First time I'm doing a multi version of the same character, so hopefully this turns out good! If this isn't what you wanted please let me know!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy the Toddler wanting to be like Bumblebee

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

G1, TFP, TFA, ROTB

G1

Bumblebee is flustered by the toddler wanting to be just like him when they grow up.

He makes them an honorary Autobot.

He chuckles to himself when they tell him about their dream of actually becoming a Cybertronain like him.

“Is that what you really want?”--Bumblebee

“Yeah! You’re so cool and, and you transforming is cool!”--Buddy

“Well, just don’t let Wheeljack or Grampa Sparkplug find out.”--Bumblebee

“Why?”--Buddy

Flashbacks to Autobot Spike incident.

“Trust me, you’re much better off being yourself.”--Bumblebee

“Really?”--Buddy

“Of course! Now let’s go see what the others are doing.”--Bumblebee

When he hears them talking about fighting alongside him, he tries to distract them with telling them about all the better ways of fighting the Decepitcons as a human.

This usually works and they get fixated on other things for the time being.

He does keep a close eye on the toddler in case they do try and go outside of the base or near Wheeljacks lab.

Gets Chip, Carly, Spike and Sparkplug to help better understand the dangers of being a bot and being out in the field.

Occasionally bringing in a guest bot… that’s fit to tell things to them.

“That should be that last speaker. Thanks again Blaster.”--Bumblebee

“No probs Bee! It was fun to talk to the little one.”--Blaster

“Yeah—wait why is the door still closed? I thought that was the last speaker.”--Bumblebee

“Oh, yeah I let Red in there. He said he wanted to have a short talk with Tiny.”--Spike

“Red… Red who—”--Blaster

“Spike, did you let Red Alert in the room?”--Bumblebee

“Yeah?”--Spike

“Oh Primus!”--Blaster

Blaster trying to open the door.

“Red! They’re too young! Open the door!”--Blaster

“You can’t make me! They are never too young to learn about safety protocols.”—Red Alert

“But not ALL of them!”--Bumblebee

“I will call Inferno if you don’t open the door in the next 10 seconds.”--Blaster

“Its okay Mr. Bumblebee! Mr. Blaster! Mr. Red Alert is teaching me how to lock a lock! It’s so cool! It’s like I’m in a spy movie!”--Buddy

“No, not cool, not cool! Someone get Inferno!”--Bumblebee

TFP

Bee, like G1, is a bit flustered that they want to be just like him when they grow up.

When they mention about actually wanting to be a bot, he humors them a bit.

“Beep bop bep? (So you think you got what it talks to be a big bot?)”--Bumblebee

“Yes!”--Buddy

“Bop boop bep beep bep bop.(But being a big bot means that you can’t help Miko color anymore.)”--Bumblebee

“… I’ll think about it.”--Buddy

But he is immediately against them going out to fight.

 He’ll highlight all the things they can do that he can’t do, that he needs their help to be able to do it. Buddy changes their mind… for now.

Bumblebee needs their help, so they are going to help him!

He is now on the lookout in case tiny decides to pull a Miko.

Teams up with Raf to explain why they can’t run head first into danger.

Bumblebee looking over to see Buddy and Miko ‘playing’ a video game with Raf and Jack.

“Hey Bee! Mind giving me a help with the cart for a second? I forgot to attached the cart but I’m already in vehicle form…”--Bulkhead

“Beep! (sure!)”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee attaches a cart to Bulkhead.

“Thanks!”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead driving with the cart into the groundbridge.

Bee waving goodbye before looking back at the kids.

Miko and Buddy are nowhere to be seen.

“Bop, bep beep bep? (Raf, where’s Miko and Buddy?)”--Bumblebee

“Oh, they went to get some soda’s in the other room.”--Raf

Bee’s com link sounds.

“Bep? (Hello?)”--Bumblebee

“I am so sorry…”--Bulkhead

“Bep? (what?)”--Bumbleee

“Hi Mr. Bumblebee! I’m with Mr. Bulkhead and Miko! The caves are so pretty here!”--Buddy

“…”--Bumblebee

“Bee?”--Bulkhead

Sports car transforming noises intensifies.

TFA

Bumblebee lives for the attention and absolutely hypes them up too.

They want to be like him when they grow up. Of course, who else wouldn’t want to be this? The fastest thing on 4 wheels is a great honor.

They actually want to be a bot? Okay, maybe not bot bot but technorganic is still new.

Maybe Buddy might be one too, there is only one way to find out!

“Bumblebee did you bring the circuit—What in the Allspark are you doing!”--Ratchet

Buddy on a high shelf with a helmet on while Bumblebee is at the bottom of the shelf with a pillow.

“Hi Mr. Ratchet! I’m gonna try and fly like Sari! Bumblebee is helping me!”--Buddy

“Oh, is that right? Well as soon as you’re on the ground I need to have a word with Bumblebee.”--Ratchet

“Why?”--Buddy

“Because… the grownups need to talk.”--Ratchet

Ratchet looking at Bumblebee with the ‘I will throw my wrenches at you when they are gone’.

Actually, fight by his side? He puts a stop there.

He tries to reason with them a little bit, mainly pointing out that they could get really hurt and then he would be very sad.

He is surprised that this has worked for a long time.

Teams up with the rest of the team and Sari to explain to Buddy about not going out into dangerous places yet.

Yet.

“C’mon you two it’s time to show everyone your costume!”--Ratchet

“… You promise not to laugh?”--Buddy

“Of course, not now come out we got some trick or treating to get too! You don’t want to best candy to get eaten.”--Bumblebee

“It’s okay I’ll come out with Buddy.”--Sari

“Okay on the count of three… two… one… go!”--Optimus

Sari coming out in her modified Optimus Prime costume with Buddy holding her hand with a homemade Bumblebee costume.

“Aww! Look at that love the color you two! Hey Bumblebee, what do—”--Bulkhead

Bumblebee trying so hard not to cry.

“Are you crying?”--Bulkhead

“N—no”--Bumblebee

“I did after my hero Bumblebee!”--Buddy

Bumblebee is now trying to hold back a full-on sob.

“You sure you’re not crying?”--Prowl

ROTB

Bee is warmed when he hears that the little one looks up to him like that.

It is nice to hear someone say that.

“Bumblebee! Bumblebee!”--Buddy

Bumblebee looking at them waving.

“Look what I drew today!”--Buddy

Bumblebee looking at a picture of him and Buddy holding hands with ‘My Hero!’ written in blue crayon.

“Do you like it? It’s yours!”--Buddy

Bumblebee gently holding Buddy in his servo giving a hug while whirling happy tunes.

When Buddy talks about wanting to be a real bot, he explains as simply as he can that right now it isn’t possible.

Yet there is still hope.

Fighting by his side is completely out of the question. He is not letting them anywhere near the fight if he can help it.

Will have a spark attack if he sees that they stowed away.

Bumblebee has to get help from Noah and Kris so Buddy can understand why it’s dangerous to stowaway.

“But I want to go too!”--Buddy

“So do I Buddy but things can get really bad out there.”--Kris

“And you can’t stowaway in cars. That’s a bad thing to do.”--Noah

“But Mirage said that you tried to carjack him when you two met. I’m pretty sure that that’s even more illegal.”--Buddy

Bee laughing through his radio with Mirage while Kirs is trying to hold it in.

“… Mirage you’re not babysitting them for the next month.”--Noah

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 6

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual! The first bit I wrote was shorter than I wanted, so I kept writing - and now you'll get more than usual instead haha... (Sorry not sorry about sneaking in a bit of a side ship I have, but it fit in this part and I want Karlach to have her hot blacksmith - yay HeartForge!)

Thank you for the comments! <3

Oh, and as I think I mentioned before, this will of course stray from canon but I have and will use things that actually happen in the game too (act 1/2), just FYI.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn't have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only... now you do. And you're not handling it very well, making a rash decision you will regret. Is there a way to undo it?

~~~

It’s eerily quiet when you get back to camp. Not that you expected your friends to still be awake, but the silence feels ominous.

Or perhaps it’s just your guilt making it seem that way.

You’re not sure breaking things off was the wrong decision — the jury is still out on that — but you regret how it happened. Regret being so harsh.

Regret not waiting until morning to have the conversation.

A noise coming from the direction of Gale’s tent snaps you out of your musings. Your body tenses up, readying for battle. Scanning the area, your hand drifts down towards a weapon that isn’t there. You must have dropped it sometime during… during. It aches thinking back and you can’t bring yourself to go back. Not now, anyway. 

You spot a flash of purple and instantly relax. Gale must be awake still. 

Perhaps the gods decided to be lenient after the night you had, giving you the opportunity to stomp out at least one fire you’ve accidentally started before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

“Still up, Gale?”

“Tav!” He smiles. “Yes, but I was about to tuck in for the night too.”

His eyes roam over you, but if he suspects what you and Astarion were up to after he and the others left, he doesn’t mention it.

“So, Gale…” You clear your throat. “I actually came over to apologise.”

“Apologise?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I think I might’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in more than friendship. And that was careless of me.” And apparently, you’re too much of a coward to admit that you used him. “I’m sorry.”

Gale takes a moment before he answers. “You were careless, yes. But I think I may have an inkling as to why.”

“Ah.” Of course he does. “For the record, the circumstances surrounding that… reason, have changed, one might say.” Because you were acting without thought, yet again. “Which doesn’t affect things between us — you and me, I mean. I value our friendship dearly, but–”

“Tav.” Gale holds up a hand to stop you. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He sounds sincere, and searching his face, you find nothing to suggest otherwise. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I did have a really nice time tonight.”

“Good. Me too.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when you invited the others, but in retrospect, I think you did the right thing.”

“You’re a good man, Gale.” A hug seems inappropriate, so you place a hand on his arm instead. “I’m sure someone better and kinder than me is waiting somewhere out there for you.”

His smile turns wry. “And I’m sure you and your ‘reason’ can sort things out once you both stop being stubborn arses.”

It’s probably because you’re still a bit drunk and in need of sleep, but you can’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “I think we would need a miracle for that.” Gale isn’t wrong, both you and Astarion are often too stubborn for your own good.

You expect Gale to at least chuckle, but instead, his expression softens. “It seems a miracle we’re all still alive, so who’s to say we can’t have another?”

He sounds so serious you stop laughing just as abruptly as you started. The hurt from before resurfaces, because there’s a bigger obstacle than stubbornness in your way. “I think I would need more than one miracle to accomplish what you’re talking about, and I doubt that I’m that lucky.”

Because even if you would talk, he still doesn’t love you, and in your current miserable state, you doubt that he ever will. To your dismay, you feel tears threatening to spill. Perhaps you should’ve waited until tomorrow to talk to Gale, after all.

Gale comes closer and puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, sympathy plain on his face. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

This conversation has taken a turn you don’t want to face right now — and with Gale, of all people — so you just nod.

“Thank you for your honesty, Tav. Now off to bed with you.” Taking a step back, Gale lets his hand drop, Gale. “We both need all the sleep we can get, I think.”

“We do, yes.” You turn to leave but not before giving him another smile. “Thank you, Gale.” You don’t elaborate, but you can tell that you don’t have to as he bows his head in understanding.

“Goodnight, Tav. Sleep well.”

“You too, goodnight.”

As you walk over to your tent to change before going to bed, you think you see movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head to look, there’s nothing there.

“And now you’re imagining things,” you mutter to yourself. “No more alcohol for you until we’re somewhere safe.”

Whenever that may be.

The following days go by in a whirlwind of events, and even if you somehow would have plucked up the nerve to talk to Astarion, you never get the chance. 

First, it was Elminster showing up to talk to Gale. You’re still not convinced it was a good idea to let him into your camp — most likely not, considering the message he was here to deliver.

You know you probably should’ve waited to let Gale have the time to process, but he insisted you press on and next thing you knew, your party was in the Shadowlands, facing goblins and driders and Harpers.

And Jaheira.

Astarion has been ignoring you as much as he can since the night, but you could sense his approval when you refused to drink the wine Jaheira offered you. Perhaps you can mend things between the two of you, in time. You desperately hope so, because a part of you already misses the chats. His embrace. The connection.

Last Light Inn turns out to be a place with many familiar faces, but after the long day you’ve all had, you decide to rest before reacquainting yourself with everyone — with one exception. 

To your — and Karlach’s — delight, you find Dammon in the stables outside the inn building.

You hide a smile when Dammon lights up at the sight of the Karlach. He may be greeting all of you, but his eyes rarely leave the Tiefling, even when he talks to you and the others. It soothes your aching heart to know that things might work out for at least one of you, even if your own love life seems doomed.

Somewhere along the way, she’s become one of your best friends. She deserves nothing but happiness, and it feels like she’s one step closer when Dammon tells her that he can craft an insulating chamber for the infernal engine. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s enough, for now, to finally allow her to touch people again.

You stand back as Karlach instals the chamber; Dammon looks at her so intently it almost feels like you’re intruding.

The chamber clicks into place.

“Go on,” Dammon says, lifting a hand. “Give us your hand.”

Circumstances aside, it’s a lovely moment, watching the two of them.

“Damn. I’m good.” Dammon laces their fingers for the briefest of moments. “And you — you’re very touchable.”

They’re both so adorable you wish you could grab the others and leave these two be. And perhaps you also wish that this could be you and a certain vampire that is currently looking everywhere but at you.

Letting go of Dammon, Karlach turns to you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from her yet.

“Tav! I can touch you now!”

“I’m so happy for you, Karlach! May I hug you?”

“Yes.” Her smile wavers with emotion. “Please.”

Her skin is hot against yours but it’s not unbearable, so you wrap your arms tight around her, glad to finally be able to hug your friend.

“Thank you.” She sounds close to tears. “Talk more back at camp, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Karlach? I need to explain the bad news too.”

You can feel a hitch in her movements and when she pulls back, her smile is strained.

She listens to what Dammon has to say, but you’re not sure she fully accepts it. You decide to leave it, for now, not wanting to dim her joy more than necessary.

Back at camp, Karlach keeps touching everyone here and there — even a moody Lae’zel accepts it, albeit reluctantly — and her happiness seems to lift the spirit of the others, too.

When everything calms down for the night, you seek her out. You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you, and in a moment of bravery, you decide you’ll talk to him after you’ve spoken to Karlach.

“Karlach? May I come in?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome into my tent, Tav.” She’s ever-moving, still brimming with energy. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” You decide to get right to the point. “I’m actually here to talk about you.”

“About me?”

“It was impossible not to notice the chemistry between Dammon and you today. With everything that’s happened, and considering what the future seems to hold for us… I think you should seize the moment. Go and find him. Be happy, while we still have time.”

Karlach stops to look at you, uncertain. “You think he would want that?”

“I do. He looked just as smitten as you clearly are.” 

“He did, didn’t he?” Her expression turns a bit bashful. “I didn’t just imagine it?”

“No, definitely not. And we won’t be rushing out of here just yet, so if you find yourself inclined to spend the night with him…”

“Tav!”

You shrug, holding back a grin. “I’m just saying.”

“Right.” She nods to herself. “You’re right. I should go right now, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes. Go, shoo.”

She laughs. “So eager to get rid of me. Planning to seduce someone yourself, Tav? I’ve seen your looks towards a certain someone.”

You don’t bother holding back the curse as you both leave her tent. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeaaah. But it’s fine, and I’m rooting for you.”

You look around, searching for the man in question. “Does that mean that everyone…?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” So everyone knows. And Astarion is nowhere to be found. Again. “He’s not here.”

“Wanna tag along to the Inn? Perhaps he’s there?”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to approach him if he’s there but not alone, but then again, there’s probably no use waiting in camp either. “Yes, why not?”

You tell yourself that if he’s not there, you’ll drink one beer — because gods know you need it — and then you’ll head back. It’s been a long day, and even with everything buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of hornets, you’ll probably have no trouble falling asleep the moment your head hits your bedroll.

It turns out that Karlach is right, Astarion is there. You spot him right away, sitting on a barstool, a goblet of wine in his hand. But he’s not alone. He’s sitting very, very close to someone. You can’t see their face, but the way Astarion holds himself, the way he moves his hand to touch their shoulder…

It seems he has found someone else to spend the night with.

As is his right, but the pain is more than you can handle. You won’t stop him, but it’s impossible to stay and watch it happen. The jealousy would break you. As unluck would have it, Astarion chooses that moment to glance over his shoulder, and before you have time to react, he sees you.

Leave. You have to leave. You spin around and flee through the door, almost bumping into one of the Harpers. You’re making a fool of yourself, but you’d rather have that than seeing a smug expression on Astarion’s face.

Half-running towards camp, you decide it’s time to get over yourself. Astarion clearly has moved on — and so should you.

~~~

[cherthegoddess]

Request for an Evan Buckley imagine: y/n is also a firefighter at the 118, but she gets trapped in a fire while the building is partly collapsing and the 118 has to go in to save her 😎

Burning Love

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: This was written with a black reader in mind but anyone can read it!

Word Count: 1.1k+

Burning Love

“Nothing like a factory fire to start the day,” Y/n said with a grin to Buck. “Yeah as long as you don’t do anything reckless.” Hen laughs loudly at his remark. “That’s funny coming from you Buckaroo.” Y/n shot back sticking out her tongue. Both Y/n and Buck were known to pull the heroics not caring if they got hurt in the end. Y/n more so after her near-death experience during an earthquake. 

The crackles and snaps could be heard as they pulled into the scene. Cap began barking out orders quickly as he assessed the fire. A hand sanitizer factory sparked a fire that was quickly going up in flames. The sprinklers jammed. Workers, along with other stations, are firefighters walking out from the burning building. “Hen! Chimney! Head on over to the workers! See what the other paramedics need help with.  Buck! Y/n! See if there are any more workers inside. Eddie! Let’s try to get this fire tamed! And try to see why these sprinklers aren’t working.” The crew quickly got to work moving into the spaces that they were told by Bobby. Buck and Y/n make their way to the blazing inferno to look at where they could enter. One of Station 124 firefighters walked past with a person coughing on their arm. “There’s a few more people inside!” The firefighter yelled. Y/n and Buck nod, making their way inside gear strapped securely to them. 

The room was covered in flames. There was not much that the fire did not touch. Luckily the hand sanitizer was one of them. “Let’s find these people and get outta here before these flames get worse.” Buck yelled over to Y/n She nodded and started moving, “Is anyone in here?!” They moved further into the building. “Over here! We’re over here!” Behind a couple of boxes lay a man and a woman. The woman was trapped under a pillar, clearly with a broken leg at the least. The chalky flames made their face covered in ash. The man tried his best to pull the pillar up, but he was unsuccessful. “What’s your name?” Y/n called out as both Buck and her ran over. “I’m Max and this is Saddie. Please help us, I’ve been trying to get this beam off of her but I can’t.” They quickly got into action, pushing the beam up not before making sure there wasn’t any other damage. They pulled Saddie’s body out, Buck allowing her to grab his shoulders. “Is there anyone else in this building?” The two shook their heads no. Max could walk so they made their way to the exit. Something caught Y/n’s eye and without Buck noticing she went to go see if there was someone else. Sure enough, there lay a woman trapped in what looked like some sort of machinery. Y/n clicked her walkie, “Guys I’m gonna be out soon. I found one more woman!” There was a pause before a response. “Y/n you were supposed to be evacuated with Buck,” Cap said sternly. “Sorry Cap! I promise I’ll be out soon.” Y/n starts working to feel the woman’s pulse. It was steady even in her unconscious state. She begins pushing the machinery off of the woman, but the woman starts to wake up and in pain. “Ma’am, I promise I’m going to get you out from under there.” The woman groans. Once the pieces were completely off of the woman, Y/n did her best to keep her up and started walking towards the exit. “Okay, Cap I’m on my way out!” She spoke too soon as the fire got stronger and catching some of the hand sanitizers lighting them up as well. “Cap, we may have a problem. The hand sanitizers caught flame and I don’t think we can get outta here. What’s the eta on the sprinklers?” The woman began to cough. “Y/n, I thought I told you not to play hero.” It was Buck this time. He wasn’t his usual goofy self this time either. He was clearly upset and worried about her. “You should know me by now Buck, I don’t listen. That’s beside the point, the sprinklers?” The flames get stronger. “We’re still trying to get them going. In the meantime try to find an alternate way out.” Bobby responds. Y/n looks around, there are just too many flames. The woman’s condition slowly starts to worsen as the smoke gets stronger. 

On the outside, Buck was pacing, waiting for someone to figure out how they could help Y/n. “Bobby, just let me go in! I need to help her.” Bobby looked sternly at Buck. “Buck, I know how you feel about her but I also know her. She’s a fighter.” Buck glares. He’s in love with her, has been for a while and he knew she was the one as soon as she walked into the station. Buck couldn’t lose her without her knowing that. 

Y/n back on the inside started to make a way out after finding a fire extinguisher nearby and putting it to work. The woman is slightly better, walking on her own. “Okay ma’am, I think we made a clear enough path that we can walk through.” The woman limps lightly over grabbing onto Y/n to walk steadily. “We’re getting out of here.”

Buck works with Eddie to fix the sprinklers since at every turn Cap stops him from going in. They just about had it when an explosion rang out. Buck and Eddie rushed over to see if Y/n was there and she wasn’t. Buck starts to tear up, mouth agape. “No, no, no” Eddie brings Buck into a bear hug as he cries. “Wait, Buck, look!” Eddie pulls him to turn around. And there she is, Y/n walking with the woman. And the sprinkler starts finally going off. Hen and Chimney rush to the two to check to see if they are okay. The woman gets taken away by Hen and Chimney. “Thanks, guys,” Y/n said as Hen tapped her on her back. “Glad you’re alive, kid.” Buck watched from a distance, in shock that she was alive. Y/n walks over to Buck with a smile. “I know you said not to do anything reckless, but you know I can’t help it. Besides, you know I always come back-” Her voice was covered with a kiss. His hands went straight for her cheeks. He slightly pulls away to apologize but she pulls him back in deepening it, her gloved hands gripping the ends of his hair. Chim and Hen whoop in the background and Bobby smiles at the scene. When they finally pull apart, they grin at each other. “Took you long enough Buckaroo. Been waiting a whole 6 months for that.” Buck laughs, I promise I’ll make up for all that I missed, but first a date.” Y/n nods and smiles pecking his lips again. “Chim you owe me 30,” Hen says with her hand out.

Soooo I kinda didn't do the last part but we love a woman who can save herself! I hope you like it even with the slight change! But please send more requests!

@https-a1

@faatxma

@stilesstilinskivoid

@meekmillsfrenchfries

@unlikelysportsllamakid

@whoopigol-barnes

@thecurlyhairedgoddess

@dianawritessometimes

@lovebyceleste

@daphnescorner

@quaksonhehe

@im-marypoppins-yall

@motheroffae

[eqt-95]

untitled supercorp excerpt

It was a clever plan. It was so clever Lena was about to pat herself on the back.

Until the cursed wheelie chair whirred across the grated floor and brought the last thing she wanted to see on this or any other depraved planet back into view.

“What are you doing?” Kara asked.

“Going out,” she replied stiffly, adjusting her bag and checking that her scarf was tucked securely into her neckline. She’d only finally extracted the last grains from her last sand-ezvous, and she was not keen to revisit that experience.

“Uh, no you aren’t,” Kara said flatly. It put Lena’s teeth on edge.

“Funny,” Lena began, rounding on the blonde now towering over her by four annoying inches, “I don’t take orders from Supergirl.” “They weren’t orders,” Kara huffed, her arms crossed and stepping between Lena and freedom. Well, sort-of-freedom.

“Then get out of my way.”

“I wouldn’t expect someone so good at holding grudges to be so forgetful,” Kara replied far too smugly.

“I'm fully functioning in that department, thanks.”

“Oh, so then you didn’t forget the Goobs lurking around every corner.”

“Hardly. Now please-”

“We should wait until the next cycle. Until I can go out-”

“That’s eight days away, and in case you bothered to notice, we’ve got just enough amorphous gray goop to last two.”

“Then I’ll go" Kara said, all cheeto-puffed out chest and heroic vibrato. "Solo.”

Lena scowled. “You are incompetent and powerless.”

“Not if you radio the instructions to me.”

“How do you expect me to instruct you to do something I haven’t even seen?”

“I’ll… I can describe it to you.”

“You may have won a Pulitzer, but don’t be so misguided to think it had anything to do with your vivid imagery, Supergirl.”

Kara flinched, her chest deflated, and Lena felt emboldened.

“I’ll take my chances,” Lena said, pushing past Kara. “I’m not risking another setback.”

“Lena-”

“What?” Lena snarled, fingers gripping her sunglasses with a threatening creak.

“Let me.”

“Why?” Lena asked, swinging to face Kara.

“B-because,” Kara stammered.

“Because? That’s why?” Lena scoffed haughtily. “Because, because, because,” she continued, a mocking tone, “Ambiguity is no different than deceit, Supergirl. What is it this time, hm? Can’t trust a Luthor? Can’t risk me sabotaging your heroic return? Can’t-

A chair flying, glass shattering, and a symphony of clanging metal-on-metal interrupted her.

“What the fuck Ka-”

“Because I can’t fix you!” Kara shouted.

Lena blinked, her corporate demeanor stunned by the shards of glass glittering the floor and the seething anger coming from the powerless Kryptonian in front of her. The wheelie chair spun uselessly as a final stack of scrolls tumbled to the ground and spilled across the floor.

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t… You’re not,” Kara began, looking perplexed, disoriented - scared? It did nothing but feed the inferno of loathing Lena felt. “You’re not a gadget or some gizmo or… you’re not me. You can’t be fixed with a sun or a-a lamp. If you get hurt - you could get hurt.”

"You'd get your wish then," Lena replied icily before pushing open the door and stepping into swirling winds of dust and red haze.

[urfavoritedcwhore]

Not sure if you are up for that but i would love to read the break up from Henry’s POV …

oh pookie yk i’m always up for a good henry pov

break//henry winter x reader fanfic (henry’s pov)

if you haven’t already, go read y/n’s pov loves!!

warnings: swearing, alcohol

not proof read

Yet another dinner at the twins apartment, a space brimming with laughter and drunken revelry. Bunny is in full swing, bickering with me over some triviality, my attention is consumed him. I can hear y/n beside me as she holds on to my arm, her laughter, bright and infectious, pierces through the din. The atmosphere is deceptively buoyant, yet I’m acutely aware of its fragility. Though listening to bunny’s ramblings pain me, knowing that I have the women on my arm that I love brings me some sense of peace. As the night progresses and the drinks continue to flow, I find myself feeling the warmth of the alcohol in my chest. I don’t even realize at first when y/n slips away from me, i’m too engulfed in my conversation with bunny. I suppose in the back of my mind I know she’s slipped away, I can’t feel her warm grip on my arm anymore and her laughter sounds further away. I know Camilla has most likely stolen her away to discuss something, or perhaps to just have a glass of wine with her; But y/n doesn’t drink wine, she drinks scotch. A small glass with ice and lime, she thinks I pour it straight for her but I always dilute it with a bit of club soda. That’s besides the point however. The point is that Camilla simply wouldn’t steal her away when there’s no scotch left. She knows just as well as I do y/n doesn’t drink wine, and they only seem to talk while they’re having a drink together. As my mind continues to conjure up what they could be doing bunny’s words suddenly strike through my thoughts. I raise an eyebrow, not hearing what he said only the teasing tone he said it in. He nods forward looking over my shoulder with a grin, “looks like the old man is taking your girl for a spin.”, he says with a drunken chuckle. My eyebrows furrow in confusion before I turn my body towards where his gaze is pointed. Richard and y/n are in the open space of the living room, drunkenly swaying to the music from the record player. They dance together, Richard’s hands resting too comfortably at her waist. It’s absurd, I know, but the sight ignites a sense of urgency within me. I know I should dismiss it as harmless fun, but I can’t.

I feel any ounce of my inebriation wash away. I’m utterly sober in this moment. I stand wordlessly for a moment before finally speaking up, my tone sharper than intended, “that’s enough y/n. let’s go now.”. Y/n chuckles, disentangling herself from Richard and stumbling toward me. “That was fun, old man. Let’s do it again sometime!” The way she adopts Bunny's vocabulary is grating. I drape my arm around her waist, my grip tight, and turn us around, walking us toward the door. I call out my goodbyes, dragging her along before anyone can even respond. As we make our way down the hall, her laughter rings in my ears, but I keep my eyes focused ahead. Her drunken giggles don’t mask the irritation simmering beneath the surface. I can feel my grip on her waist tightening involuntarily, a mix of possessiveness and frustration swirling inside me. She seems blissfully unaware, lost in the moment, and it drives me mad. I whisper to myself a quote from Dante’s Inferno that seems to fit quite well to the situation I find myself in while keeping my eyes straight. I see her up at me slightly, “huh?”, she asks almost like a child who doesn’t understand a school lesson. I take a breath and repeat myself, “I said, ‘there are two reasons for evil deeds, one is illness, the other is wickedness.’”. She’s silent for a moment as we get into the elevator. I keep my eyes on the doors as they shut, eager to get away from this damned situation. From the corner of my eye i see her head tilt as she looks up at me, “Dante’s inferno. Canto 11, Dante discusses the nature of sin and the motivations behind evil deeds.”, she says. She sounds almost proud she knows the quote. To be quite honest, I feel a twinge of pride as well, though I make sure not to show it. After all, i’m the one who gave her a copy of that book. I simply nod once in response.

The elevator doors finally reopen. I walk out, my grip on her waist still firm. If she wasn’t drunk I’m sure she’d be saying something about how I always, “forget my own strength”, and how she’ll, “probably have bruises in the shape of my fingers tomorrow!”. This thought makes me loosen my grip slightly, I don’t want to hurt her physically, not even when i’m as mad as i am right now. She speaks again as we walk out of the elevator and into the lobby, “why are you quoting Dante to me?”, the innocence in her voice only frustrates me further. I don’t answer, I only continue to walk towards the doors. As we exit the apartment complex, I let go of her waist; The cool air hits me, sharp and refreshing, yet it does little to clear my mind. I don’t bother to open her door when we approach my car, she can do it herself. I open my own door instead and sit myself in the drivers seat. She doesn’t follow immediately, but i choose to not look at her. Approximately 15 seconds go by before the passenger door opens, and I feel the car shift slightly as she drunkenly plops into her seat. I snap my head to her, I force the words out, “So which are you, Y/N? Are you mentally ill or simply wicked?” It’s a question I know is harsh, but I need to understand why she danced with Richard, why she doesn’t see how it looks. Her surprise cuts through me, “excuse me?”, she asks, I can tell my words have sobered her up slightly. I start the car and turn my head back forward as I back out of my parking space. I press on, driving the point home. “Did you embarrass me because there’s something mentally wrong with you, or did you do it just to be wicked?” Her disbelief stings. “Are you joking?” she asks, and I can hear the hurt in her voice. I scoff, but deep down I’m wrestling with the fear that this might be more than just a misunderstanding. I steal a glance at Y/N, confusion etched on her face. “Are you joking?” she asks, her voice tinged with offense. I can feel the irritation bubbling beneath my skin, but I keep my focus on the road, unwilling to let her see just how much this bothers me. “Good God,” she continues, “he’s homosexual, Henry.” Her dismissal stings, but I can’t let it show. “So there is something mentally wrong with you then,” I retort, my voice sharper than I intend. “You don’t see the way he looks at you all the time? Y/N, he practically salivates over you.” The words slip out, laced with a mixture of annoyance and anger. She shakes her head, disbelief written all over her features. I can feel the tension in the car tightening, the air thick with unspoken words. As we drive toward campus, I can sense her confusion. “Why are you driving to campus?” she asks, and I keep my eyes trained on the road, determined not to falter. “I’m taking you to your dorm.”, I reply, forcing a sense of finality into my tone. She should understand this, we’re clearly on the way towards Monmouth house. But inside, I’m wrestling with my own emotions, the weight of my jealousy heavy on my chest. I know I’m being unreasonable, but the sight of her dancing with Richard, the way they swayed together as if it were the most natural thing in the world, has ignited a fire in me I can’t control. She deserves to understand the implications of her actions, and yet here I am, driving her away from me. “why aren’t we going to your apartment?”, she asks, her tone dropping from anger to a childlike innocence. I sigh, she needs to understand that I can’t be embarrassed like this, that she can’t act as if she’s single. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, not letting myself speak until we reach her dormitory building and park. “I need to not be around you right now y/n.”, I say flatly, feeling my resolve harden. That is, until I look at her. The way her face falls hits me harder than I expected. “I don’t want to go to my dorm… I want to go back to your apartment.” Her voice is almost a whisper, and it makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

I want to reach out, but I can’t. “I think it best if we spend some time apart. I cannot continue to be constantly worried about you going off with another man.” The words feel like a knife twisting in my gut, but they’re necessary. When her eyes glisten with unshed tears, I realize I’ve crossed a line. “What do you mean by ‘time apart’?” she asks, voice trembling. “Are you breaking up with me?”. “If that’s what you need me to call it, then I suppose. Though I would rather just call it a break for right now.” I force myself to keep my tone even, to hide the turmoil within. Don’t let her see your emotions, Don’t let her see your emotions. I watch her face shift as she processes my words, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. I can see the moment the realization hits—her breath catches. I want to reach out, to soften the blow, but the jealousy tightens its grip on me. I see a tear escape down her cheek. She nods, quickly wiping it away, trying to regain her composure, I assume. “Fine. If that’s what you want,” she replies, her voice steady but laced with hurt. I glance back to the windshield, forcing myself to stay focused. “It is,” I say, my tone clipped and matter-of-fact. I can feel her pain in the air between us, but I can't let it show. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the weight of what I’ve said. I watch her from the corner of my eye. In the fleeting moment when her expression softens, I can see the vulnerability beneath her bravado. But just as quickly, she wipes it away, unbuckling her seatbelt with determination. “Fine then.”. She opens the car door, stepping out into the night, and the sound of it slamming shut reverberates through me like a finality I hadn’t anticipated. I want to call her back, to explain that this isn’t what I truly want, but the words feel stuck in my throat. Instead, I sit in the car, the silence heavy, knowing I might have just lost her.

[redstrawbluestraw]

I woke up in the middle of the night and now its your problem

Is the cel city suppoust to be a refrence to animation cels?

seeing felix is back to his og annoying self (we love you toxic king welcome back) I wanna ask if he's still a journalist/writer or if he's the unemployed friend at wendsday in the last call?

Oswald doesnt seem as depressed in your ver (thank you thank you thank you thank you i would not take well a total whiplash of his character randomly) so I gotta ask AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWEAR if ortensias still dead in here or if oswalds just single as in he and her didnt ever/seriously get together?

Also I wanted to ask if mickey has any dynamic with either felix or sheba bc bc funny bc you get it? can and a mouse yea

Have a good one o/ love ur stuff 🫶

INFERNOOOOOOO HIHI HI ITS ALWAYS A BLESSING TO HEAR FROM YOU!!!!!! <3333

IM SORRY I DIDNT ANSWER THIS SOONER FINALS WEEK WAS CRAZY But anyways let’s get cookin

1. YES ABSOLUTELY IT IS!!!! I’m hoping to have other puns for future cities and places heehee, but I’m so happy somebody noticed it!!!! <333 Cel City is essentially where “every” toon lives, so anywhere from bg toons, to toons that were drawn once or twice, or toons that aren’t relevant, hence Cel City!

2. As much as him being the unemployed friend on a Wednesday would be funny as fuck (reread this so many times it made my day fr) unfortunately I did make him employed. He’s still a writer, and still an archaeologist! Just bc Anthro is a huge passion of mine, and my favorite parts in the og babqftim were always whenever Felix locked in and used his knowledge. Wish there was more of that instead of ykno

Anyways, It’ll be explained more why he went down that path, but ultimately he’s still an annoying ass friend lol

Exhibit A (this doodle was done forever ago hence why it’s so ugly SORRY 😭😭)

3. I’ll leave this one kinda vague cause I don’t wanna spoil too much but first of all, totally agree, it pissed me off hella how he acted 😭😭

Ortensia and Oswald were married, madly in love but she did pass due to reasons. Oswald in turn processed his feelings a lot more aggressively than the og babqftim. While he is depressed, it’s definitely not going to be portrayed in the ways that we saw. Less nonverbal, more defensive and overly paranoid. He’s protective towards those he cares about and his walls are too high up for anybody to break them (doesn’t stop Felix from trying tho)

4. Mickey and Felix go waaaaay back!!!! They get along almost too well for a cat and a mouse!!

They get into all sorts of trouble, Mickey hates to admit it but he doesn’t get the hate Oswald has towards the guy. They both are their biggest fans, Felix has a soft spot for Mickey

For Sheba I like to think she teases him a lot, and Mickey is too nice and polite to tell her something. She’ll say something about eating him alive and Mickey would go “Oh! Well… golly, I can’t imagine I’d taste good!”

TYSM FOR YOUR ASK INFERNO THIS LEGIT MADE ME SMILE SO WIDE I HOPE YOU’RE DOING GOOD!!!!!! <333333

[scarletknightreterns]

Trophies

Spelunking the head-canon caves off to find diamonds~~

Amazing prompt @darkdemeter threw at me at Mach 5 and slapped me right in the face so hard I now have brainrot of the entire scenario ehehehhehehe No warnings I don't think? A dead monster, that's about it :)

——-

You could only wrap up the same gift in different packaging so far before the meaning behind it stared to rot and decay like soggy bones set out in the sun for too long. It dried out.

She felt like it was the same shit all over again, just presented in a different form that, honestly, she saw right through merely due to the amount of disinterest palpitating within the very walls of her heart, twisting and writhing with such sheer disgust she could taste it on the tip of her tongue when he tried to, again, swoon and woo her with his attempts at courtship; so foul that, they might as well have been a mockery of how angels appealed to their desired partners.

This entire thing was a joke.

“Absalom, this never was flattering to begin with, but now it’s getting to be way too much. You know I’m not interested in being your spouse, right?” She expected the answer to be more then disappointing, so much so to the point that seeing his expression both validated and proved her point exactly.

Instead of the rational, normal course of action expected of someone, that being to accept the losses and just move on, what she was met with was an inferno so hot and explosive, it could melt the stone bricks of hell’s finest manor off their foundations. And even for that, it was still a quiet reaction.

“What do you mean?” the growl of frustration was cut short only for the brief moment it took for him to nudge the weapon closer towards her. “Is it not fine enough for you? This is the best weapon the forge can make, it’s very nature and battle prowess is revered by my people! It’s matched by no rival when it comes to bloodshed and gore capabilities! Your foes will be left more then dead in your wake-“ he was grinning proudly in the way that managed to unnerve her. “Dismembered and spewed about in little pathetic pieces they will be, like seeds tossed on a plot of land!”

Reserved was she still, but had to take a step back. Being in the face of such love for bloodshed was equivalent to leeches crawling over her skin; the tingles, sheer discomfort, and ick of being covered in filth, visible or not, was very tangible to her senses right now. Or, maybe, it was more the fact that she felt as though such was being forced upon her, ideologies she refused to adopt.

The weapon was gorgeous fundamentally speaking, yes. The craftsmanship was on par with that of angels with the silver and steel, decorated with purposefully-tattered banners of purple and black, but the maliciousness and dark energies crackling and rolling off of the metal-hooked blades of the prongs screamed of it’s birthplace in Hell, some trench far beneath the infernal surface. It pulsed and writhed with an obscenity that tickled her flesh as though it had a conscious and was trying to worm it’s way into her mind.

Cinder knew what such an abhorrent thing was. It was an Abomination; Nephilim craftsmanship... forged with the resources from... once living... or legitimately living sources. People, animals, slaves and fodder used to craft weapons; quite literally crafted into, weapons.

She killed, yes. But never had that been done with disrespect, before or after the fact, and never did she use her fallen victims to..... further some sort of sick agenda. She slew an enemy to sometimes make a pact with it and hold as a summon- always achieved by the spirits free will and choice.

“I will say it only once more, no,” she shook her head, feeling like turning away was the only thing that could truly shield her from the worst of what rejection could have to throw at her in the moment, busying herself with picking back up the cloth she’d been using to polish her armour, intending to continue where she’d left off when interrupted.

Absalom simply stood there, fuming silently while staring at her. Back straight and like he faced a battle strategy that eluded his intelegence, he could not come to understand why she had rejected his every attempts at courtship. For months he had tried, and every time he heard that word, just the one, 'no'.

Nobody else had these issues from what he’d seen; and he’d seen how she fought. To have her by his side on the field of battle would truly be remarkable and a turning point for the Nephilim. They could storm Heaven, conquer Hell, and own REALMS. So then, why did she choose to sit there, polishing her gear and otherwise not do anything worthy of her life? Everywhere he looked, he gazed to seek some truth, some revelation, but each path turned back around to the one he’d been on before, with no closure, no understanding, and not a step forward.

Perpetually out of reach she was, but she was right there in his view! He could touch her, if he so wanted to! But... to ruin the potential of having her? The thought of finally touching that pale flesh with his fingertips, to hear her soothing voice in the middle of the night when his mind was restless, and to feel the raw power rolling off her during battle, her beside him tearing creatures apart... and so much more? It almost drove him mad.

She was his prize, his grand achievement waiting for him, Hell, she was even in the spotlight, so why then was everything blocking him??

And why the Hell was someone else stealing the show...?!

“I think it would be wise of you to back off before she emasculates you.” Oh that familiar voice of gravel, young but tall a mountain; steep were it's sides, and strong it's form. It was one to both love and hate, and respectively, it wasn't hard to understand who felt which aforementioned emotions. Cinder's head and attention snapped over to the sound of heavy footsteps all too eagerly, Absalom's simply being that of irritation to being interrupted which swiftly morphed into surprised anger at the sight of what the young Nephilim hailed over his shoulders. Death had been impressive before, but never had he stolen the breath right out of Cinder's lungs by merely being a sight to behold, let alone a clear force to be reckoned with. His gait was broad, but nothing was more so in size then the behemoth of a head slung over his shoulders, hefted by arms of muscle which rippled and flexed with the smallest of movements. It was massive compare to Death, yet he didn't appear to break a sweat at all. Almost giddily she abandoned her things to hurry over, a sight which left Absalom seething quietly, but also in disbelief. "Is this what you meant when you said you were going hunting for something worthy?" Those fiery eyes were both calm and gentle while also gleaming with pride of such recognition from her. Her merely impressed with a victory in and of itself to him, but still. He glanced silently to the side in a way of telling her to move out of the way a little, which he was thankful she was astute enough to notice, and moved out of his way enough for him to safely remove himself from under the hulking trophy. "Yes. I sought a worthy gift for you. Out of the multiple I slew, this one I deemed the best, he was also quite the foe." "You fought, decapitated and brought back a Leviathan for me??" Oh, her tone did not reveal anything in the way of displeasure or disbelief. In fact, she could believe it, but she did not believe he knew just how much this meant to her. The masked man simply puffed his chest out proudly, momentarily baffled by the bubbly noise that filled his ears, only to find out it was her giggles of what he might call being elated. And because of him. Oh it stirred something strong and warm in his chest, something that wrapped and pulled on heart, and ignited a fire in his gut. She stepped up closer to the frightening creature who made it's home between the plains of existence, The Abyss, and Void realms. Never had she seen it in such broad daylight, although many had she seen from a distance in her life save for one she long called friend. It's sharp and jagged scales glinted like emeralds tainted by the ink of a Kraken, running her fingers over them threatened to pierce skin. In it's skull were eyeballs that had long glossed over like milky frost, pearly and dead. It's fangs were sharp and foul with gunk and gingivitis, but if cleaned and polished, those serrated edges would make a fine sword or weapon of any sort. The hide was also of prime interest, ebbing with such energies of prime magical affiliation. There was much she could do with this. Not to mention the tethers of a soul she could still sense woven like threads through it's scales, the very essence could be pulled out and woven back into something more useful; like a summon.

And the skull? She knew the perfect place for it- the pond, home to all her fish and critters, would make a fine home for it when she was finally done. It would grow over with algae and moss, become one with nature again. She simply could not wait!

Cinder was more then amazed, she felt a certain way that she couldn't accurately put a name to, nor would anything justify how these feelings felt but... pleased, if that was one word to use. Death's eyes did not leave hers when they met, their attentions focused on one another, and the words that he heard her say both burned his ears and made his chest swell with so much pride he was convinced he might pop.

"I accept your gift, Death. It's spectacular in my eyes, and you've more then proven yourself as worthy." Absalom... could not believe that she was accepting Death as a spouse-- surely she knew that, right?! She knew what she was doing, but how could she accept something so useless? What could one do with a SKULL-- a trophy, yes, he understood, but something this large? And had it been that simple this entire TIME?? "Have you ever had Leviathan grilled meat before?" Cinder asked Death, forgetting the other man was even there to begin with.

Death had not forgotten, however, and felt proud to show the older one up by leaps and bounds. It reflected in his eyes, the fiery glint of knowing his victory without words. "I have not~" he turned back towards her. "Well, you are about to~!" She giggled and rubbed her hands together. "I'll be right back, time to skin this bad boy-" and she ran off inside her cabin to fetch several things for, presumably, the skinning and cooking.

That, understandably, left both men alone. One seething and the other proud of his accomplishments.

"How?" Absalom's voice was calm but visibly bubbling with rage. "You won her over so easily by a corpse, yet she despised the weapon I presented to her?" The older Nephilim's only eye bore deeply into Death's skull, almost as though he'd wished the other didn't exist at all, but also held a firm amount of respect. He had to give it to the young man; he'd pulled off the impossible. Death, unimpeded while waiting for his spouse's return, simply stared back for a few moments long enough Absalom was certain he wouldn't get a reply at all.

Then, "I did not win her over. I gave her what I knew she liked," Death said matter-a-fact. "Turns out, it actually pays to get to know someone."

"....You two have been courting already before this..." that explained a few things. The way she always seemed to glow like the sun whenever Death was around, how much they spent time together, and how close they acted already. Like best friends, but more. "And I made it official. And now that I have..." Death turned more fully towards Absalom, that pride and joy replaced by a fierce protectiveness accompanied by a chill that seeped into the air like growing frost. "Leave her be."

[try-set-me-on-fire]

It’s only 11:22 pm on Thursday for me but (west coaster who likes to sleep in voice) I never get to kick start the tag train. It’s Fuck It Friday! Here’s the first draft of the opening scene of the cruise ship spec fic I’ve been outlining…

Buck is always surprised at how heavy water is. The way it pulls at his limbs, tears at his clothes, wants to hold him down deep inside of itself — it sneaks up on him. He should have been ready for it, this time. They’ve been out on the ocean for hours, wet salt soaking into him as they worked, frantic, time limit impossible to forget as the wave got closer and closer to the upper decks. The burn of it, too. As he spins, directionless, in the dark, he thinks it’s unfair that he’s going to die with his lungs on fire so far away from any flame. For years, now, he’d thought he’d die in a house. Not his own, probably, but at least it would be someone’s home. He’d get eaten right along with it, inferno chewing through his bones and family heirlooms alike. He thinks he would feel less alone, that way, than he does now. His head gets fuzzy, his limbs unresponsive, time stretches and shrinks. He doesn’t think much of anything at all.

And then he wakes up.

It’s painful, the big ragged gasps he’s taking, and he can hardly see or hear or feel anything around him, except- there’s a hand, on his face, someone is speaking-

“-id, come on kid, breathe for me, that’s it-“

The hand at his face rubs at his sternum, now, easing the hacking coughs shaking right through him. “B-Bobby…”

“Right here, I’m right here, Buck.”

He is, leaned down over him in the dim light of- wherever the fuck they are. Buck can’t even be reasonably sure the light is dim, he might just not be fully processing the world at the moment. It’s- Bobby’s here, looking at him all overjoyed and worried at once, and- Bobby’s here, and Bobby was hurt, Bobby is still bleeding, crimson leaking down his chest, staining his clothes and Buck’s, now, too. “Y-y-you were supposed to go- I told you to leave.”

Buck’s brain is definitely still off kilter, because Bobby laughs, grinning down at him. “Well,” he says, and it sounds sort of echoey, light fading even more. “I never have been a very good listener.” He thinks Bobby might be holding his face again- he thinks Bobby is holding him, and- if he’s dying again he thinks this might be better than a house. As the light leaves completely he can just barely make out the warmth of Bobby pulling him closer, and faint words, rumbling like they’re muffled against his skull, “I’ve got you, kid.”

Tagging @lover-of-mine @rewritetheending @daffi-990 @malewifediaz @jeeyuns @eddiebabygirldiaz @shitouttabuck @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @thewolvesof1998 @bigfootsmom

[zorilleerrant]

Night Terrors

@flashfictionfridayofficial

“Talk to me,” David says, hovering over me with a probably worried look I’ve never seen before, not that that tells me much of anything. I wonder for a moment how he’s managed to perch on the top bunk that way, before realizing I’m on the floor.

Well. That explains why my head is pounding. “I’m fine,” I say, mouth still gummy from sleep and trying to sort out the borders between my sleeping and waking thoughts. They want to meander through each other so badly.

The walls surround me again, and I shudder, and then, with a deep sigh, I realize they’re the wrong walls. Great. Couldn’t just be the portentous declarations carved into walls I’ve grown used to, no, it has to be the cold cement slabs with the laser etched runes too fine to do anything but barely see.

In my dream they were glowing. After that initial flash, instead of fading back into obscurity, they just kept glowing. The glow got brighter, I think, and might have been flame. Everything burning up around me and I didn’t even have the power to run. Nothing pierced my back. No, I just had to be freezing to death inside an inferno.

David definitely looks worried this time. “What happened?” he asks, plaintively, reaching out for my shoulders and then pulling his hands back. I can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort me, or help me back up, or what.

“Just a nightmare,” I mutter, exhaustion clinging thick to the words, and try to muster up the energy to at least roll over. Step one to pushing myself off the ground. I try to shake off the itching sensation that the runes are running up and down my skin, like they followed me here just to bite me.

David touches my head, just gently. It stings. He hold his hand up wordlessly in front of me so I can see the blood clinging to it, tacky and bright. It takes me a minute.

I’m still trying to fight my way out of the cold, gray room, the labyrinthine exit spawning new twists and turns every time I try to run, and it takes me longer than it should to tell the blood is real, and mine, and current. I stare at it. I don’t have any new reaction to give it, though, so I just sigh again.

“Hype?” he says, carefully. He’s trying to do something. I wish he would just tell me what instead of staring at me like I’m going to offer up the answers to the universe. “Hey. Um. What should I do?”

Do? Why does he have to do anything? It’s just nightmares. They’ll wear themselves out if he leaves me alone long enough. I mean. I do have to get back into bed, but a quick glance at myself reveals the normal pajamas I expect to be wearing, so that’s one hurdle down, anyway. It would be easier if I could stand up.

“Okay, uh, I’m going to call emergency services,” David says, stepping out of view for a moment. No idea where he’s going. At least he’s got the right idea, though. I’ve got a killer hangover or something. Nightmares always leave me off my game, but it’s not usually this bad. “Is there anything I should tell them?”

I stare at him in disbelief when he pops back in to ask that. Like he’s grown that second head that keeps wavering in and out of focus. “I mean, generally just the usual diagnostic metrics.” My mouth still feels tingly, like it’s not moving quite the way I want it too – I’m only just starting to feel awake. I wish those stares wouldn’t follow me out of dreams, but I guess it’s better than the monster.

He stares at me some more. God, this kid. He’s going to get himself killed, if he keeps this up. By the TAs, if no one else.

I raise my hand, and trace a sigil in the air. He blinks at it in a worrying lack of recognition. I can’t believe no one’s cast this on him, or at least near him, before – especially given that he wanted to be a healer. He’s so behind he’s never going to catch up. I trace it slower, waiting for him to start copying me. The cement isn’t binding my magic down anymore, but it’s still probably better for him to cast it.

“I don’t get it,” he says, looking at the array of symbols and numbers and all sorts of things that should look familiar to him, if he’s looked into it, but that take forever to learn how to read.

“You don’t have to,” I reassure him. I reach out to pat his arm, but he’s farther away that I thought, and my aim falls short. “Just read off the top and bottom lines.” I point them out to him, for all my hand is wavering in and out of focus, just in case he doesn’t know what I mean. “I can’t believe you can’t cast a basic diagnostic.”

His lips are moving as he looks at all the information he can’t possibly decipher, trying to figure out what to convey over the phone. When he gets off hold, presumably – I can’t hear anyone on the other end of the line.

I twist my hand to page through the rest of it. No sense demonstrating less than the full breadth of the spell, if he’s going to keep it going. The worried look just gets worse as I move through different images and scrolling lines of numbers. We both freeze on the same one.

“Well,” I say, staring at him through the painfully clear image, “that’s not good.”

[c0mbatchameleon]

hi hi hiii more on Liebestraum plsss

Eugeeee hello well this is no other than the demon James possession au 🙏🙏

The post linked is from forever ago but it still has the basics. And at the risk of going on too long about how i since then fell down the literal rabbit hole that is dante's inferno, and my notes app ramblings have morphed into a 12 page, 6000+ word planning doc, I will give you a snippet. It's basically just possession sex. Which in itself is just masturbation with more steps.

I'll say one thing: the song came after I had already carved the entire story around the concept of dreams -- the only place where they can be two separate, physical beings on the same plane of existence (except for--nvm). So it was a beautiful coincidence that Liebestraum ended up translating to "love dream," which I only looked up after listening to it a million times and mapping the whole plot to it. Anyways, the dreams take place on a beach, and all u need to know is that up to this point, regulus has refused to get in the water and swim. ((18+ below))

“Please,” Regulus whines, and he’s never sounded this pathetic in his life, so out of control. James has taken reign over his body, all muscle and bone and that web of nerve endings embedded throughout, while Lust–this desperate, whirlwind need that pools deeper in him–has full reign of his mind. Or, the part of his mind that’s still his, which in itself is blurring more and more at the edges as time goes on.  The result is this. Regulus, a man of discipline, reduced to a writhing, pleading, unwound mess, hand moving over himself by some outside, untethered force, by James, who isn’t outside of him at all. Please what, love?  James’s voice is everywhere and nowhere. It’s rolling through him with the tides, filling the silence in the room, in his skull–it used to be quieter in there, didn’t it? Regulus can’t imagine it now. Doesn’t want to. He needs more. He needs– “Need you.”  A soft chuckle. I’m right here, baby. I couldn’t be any closer if I tried. Don’t you feel it? Suddenly: an increased pressure in his skull, lungs, entire body. Carrying pleasure with it, pushing up at the boundaries of him, his being, his consciousness. He doesn’t know what James is doing, but it’s something. It’s not enough.  A sharp twist of his own hand has Regulus letting out a mortifying sound. “Mmmh. Need more.”  Oh? More of me? Another sharp twist, pleasure sparking up through him, before the hand—his own hand—slows back to an infuriating, steady pace. James is loving this and Regulus knows it. Can feel it in the waves of satisfaction, of triumph rolling out from the space James occupies in his own head. Regulus might be more annoyed by the arrogance of his guest if only those emotions weren’t blending so gloriously with his own pleasure.  Own. What a funny word. Nothing is his own, anymore. His hips writhe, pushing himself into his own fist, and there’s no way of knowing if it’s his or James’s doing. He nearly chokes on his words. “Need– sleep.”  What was that? “Put me—fuck—make me sleep, James. Right now.” You want to sleep?  And can something with no body, a shade, a figment of thought–can some entirely unphysical thing find a way to smile so distinctly? The way Regulus can feel that knowing, winning grin stretch somewhere beneath his own clenched jaw? The way he can hear it pulling at the corners of the voice–that foreign, all-too familiar voice–in his own head?  James has found a way. James, who knows he’s won before Regulus can even voice his own defeat. Regulus, who knows he has to voice it, anyway. That’s the point isn’t it? To submit?  It’s no fun if it’s not given up willingly. When Regulus gives in, it’s more willing than he’s ever been in his life.  “I want to see you. I want you. I want the water. I’ll go in. Fuck, I’ll go in.” That echo of a smile, phantom victory, amplifies then, and for a moment Regulus thinks he might overflow with pure, luminous feeling.  And then, everything goes black.

[babiebom]

apologies for my absence- holiday periods are tiring lmao how were they for you? unfortunately we have yet to watch the fnaf movie, as our group is one that is exceedingly difficult to make plans around because we're all busy 💀 but then there's the one guy who doesn't want to leave his house lmao luckily, iv'e been pretty good at staying away from spoilers, so i've got that going for me. on the other hand, i'm planning to go see Trolls 3, and my mother and sister recently went to see the new Wonka movie. Though from what i've heard from a friend, Wonka's no good :// Yeahhh, if i actually commit to the mod, i'd have to learn pixel art and reteach myself code and programming 😭... i used to be somewhat decent at it. oooo yes i love a good choose your own adventure! they're so much fun and i've actually coded 1 of my own :,) it was through Visual Basics though, so the formatting was a bit weird for me lmao if you're going for a visual novel type of look and playability, I'd probably recommend Unity or itch.io? in my experience, Unity is probably easier to use.. theres another website/app i used but i can't recall the name sadly :( if i do i'll get back to you though! i don't have that much of a detailed request this time, but perhaps some fluff and love languages between rasmodius and the reader? or like hcs of rasmodius's evolving interest/thoughts arund the reader before finally getting together? i'd perhaps request nsfw/smut stuff too but tbh i just don't have any ideas 💛 tysmm :D -🔮

A/N: I’m glad you’re okay!! Honestly I’ve been sick these past couple of weeks (I caught pneumonia and had it for a month before going to the hospital. I thought it was a cold oopsies) I haven’t watched anything new recently but I am watching the third season of singles inferno with some friends. And I guess until I can figure out how to make a visual novel I have to write the fic out lmao sucks for me because I think a game would be better but oh well. What can I do? And like always I’ll try to do both!! Check back for the second one!!

Tw: cursing, slight nsfw but no full on smut. Let me know if there’s something I missed!!

Wc: I have no idea! But these are headcanons so 10+ is the goal!!

Sdv Masterlist

Okay so there are five main types of love languages.

Physical touch, Words of Affirmation, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Quality Time.

I would also like anyone reading this to remember that these love languages are how you want to be loved/receive love not how you show love to others.

I do think that Rasmodius is very connected to himself

And by that I mean I think he knows himself very well, or at least he thinks he knows himself very well.

And for a long time I think he probably thought that Quality Time and Physical Touch were his main two love languages.

I mean idk if it’s canon but in my opinion I do think he cheated on the witch with Caroline

And I’m not gonna go into it here because this isn’t about them, but I think it might’ve had to do with that and his own struggles with temptations.

And I also think gift giving is canon for literally every single character in stardew because that’s the main way to befriend someone.

But I think that after marrying you/beginning to date you he realizes that his actual love language is words of affirmation.

While Physical touch and quality time are still very important to him, being with you makes him see that he really does like being praised.

Like whenever you say that he has done something well, or that you like something he has done his heart flutters as if he were a teenager again.

Especially when it comes to his magic

Like I feel like the townspeople aren’t really fond of him

And they never thank him for the things that he does whenever they actually need him for stuff

Like the haunted maze

Like they’re just talking about how weird he is and how he got it done

But they never stop and say anything that’s positive like WTF

So I think he would appreciate whenever you thank him or praise him and it would go straight to his head (which one idk 👀)

With quality time I feel like you get a lot of it after he moves to the farm

Like unless he’s working in his tower, or you’re off somewhere like in the mines

That you’re like together even if it’s spent in silence

And he loves that

Like he was super lonely before even if he doesn’t want to admit it

So just being in the same room as you counts as quality time for him.

And if you’re doing an activity that’s particularly domestic

He’s in heaven like he doesn’t wanna make it a big deal

But baking and helping you around the farm makes his heart soar.

I think in terms of how he shows love i think he would show it in acts of service and gift giving

Like oh you don’t feel well?

Don’t bother going to the clinic he’s just going to create a potion that stops you from getting sick

You’re afab and you’re having bad cramps during your period?

Consider them gone

Look at this thing he got for you

And while yeah this might seem like either a lot of insincere

In his mind and heart this is how he shows that he appreciates you and wants you to live a good and easy life.

If he can make things easier and less stressful for you

That’s exactly what he’s going to do

He loves you and while he loves receiving attention and love he’s kinda crap at giving it in the same way because he just doesn’t really know how

So this is how he does

He’s VERY romantic sometimes and shows it through gifts and services.

Very cute and a good significant other when you get past his rough exterior.

[ragingbookdragon]

Even If I Knew, The Day We Met You'd Be The Reason This Heart Breaks, I'd Love You Anyway

It’s a bit cliché to label them fire and ice, but in all reality, it’s true. To Simon’s cold and calculating, she’s hot and impulsive. And Simon’s no fool. A girl like that will send him to an early grave, but God if he isn’t already a dead man walking. It’s a long time before he finally drops his walls enough to let her inside, mostly because she’s always worming in places she shouldn’t be, asking questions she doesn’t need to know the answers to. That degree in psychology really starts to make sense when she needles him with the ones that instead of him glowering at her and snapping back, he falls silent and broods—he doesn’t brood but she swears he does.

She contradicts Simon’s frosty exterior with an inferno of life, and he begins to wonder if maybe he is too afraid of caring that he doesn’t let himself love. Which is why her words are so jarring as they come across his face, a verbal slap that has him reeling harder than any hit he’s ever taken.

“Simon, I can go on a mission by myself. I’m not a child.”

“I’m know. But I still don’t want you to go.”

“Okay, but you’re not my direct superior. So, I’m going.”

“Well, considering the fact that even if you’re a lieutenant commander. you’re in the 141. And if I recall, I am Price’s second in command.”

“You don’t get to control what I do just because you fuck me.”

It startles him, the way she bites that out and he shakes his head, a little disbelieving that she would say that—especially the way she did. “I’m not trying to control you, love,” he stresses. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

And then it happens. Her eyes slant in a way he’s never seen before and he never wants to see again, a frigid sneer crossing her face as she barks an ice-cold laugh. “Keep me safe? You couldn’t even keep your own fucking family safe.”

And that has Simon faltering a step back, throat tightening, heart beating so loud and so hard that it might come out of his chest.

“You fucked around with the wrong people, and you got all of them killed. Your own family. Your own fucking nephew.” Her laughter is dark. “You couldn’t keep anybody safe. What makes you think you can save me, you fucking failure?”

This isn’t his love. This isn’t her. He doesn’t like this version. She’s supposed to be hot; he’s supposed to be cold. She isn’t supposed to be cruel like this. He’s the cruel edged sword, she’s the fiery voice of reason.

Simon doesn’t even remember what they’re fighting about. And frankly, he doesn’t want to remember. But her laughter burns his ears, aches something in his body, he reaches for her, world suddenly tumbling in on itself and her cruelty is the last thing he hears.

He shoots up, heart hammering in his chest, throat tight as he sucks in a deep breath, sweat running down his temples and in a sheen on his chest. Simon takes a moment to assess that he’s in his room, he’s had a nightmare—a fucking nightmare of his girlfriend. His eyes draw down to his side and before he can even curse, her eyes are fluttering open, a sleepy-haze in them and he knows before she even says it.

“You okay?”

“‘m fine,” he mutters, reaching up to wipe his forehead. “Just hot.”

She stares at him, the sleep beginning to clear as she retorts, “It’s sixty-five in here and you’re covered in a sheet.” Her hand comes up to rub the sleep from her eyes and he grunts at her. “Just hot my ass.”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Simon doesn’t fight when she sits up beside him and leans into his arm. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna—”

“No.”

She pouts. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her gaze is sharp, and he sees the inferno he loves building in them but uncharacteristically, she ceases needling and lays back down, and Simon thinks for a moment he’s in the clear before she grabs the back of his hair and yanks hard enough that he knows a smirk is on her face when he bites back that certain grunt low in his throat. He falls back, rolling onto her, head on her chest.

Her hands are cool from the temperature of the room, but he feels relief as she rubs his back and soothes everything away.

“You know I’m always here, Si.”

“Mhm.”

“I know you don’t like to talk about things that haunt your dreams but I’m always open to listen—without doctoring you to death.”

“I know.”

“Simon, I know I’m not everything I could be for you, but I love you, and I’ll follow you till the end. I’m in for the long ride.”

Simon looks up at her, a lifetime of exhaustion in his gaze, but a softness in the gruff of his voice as he admits, “Love, you’re the best thing I got.” She blinks and he lets out a long, deep sigh, repeating more to himself, “You’re the best I’ve got.”

Her hands become softer than he’s ever felt, and she brushes her fingers over his face, all had jaw and cheekbones. “Go back to sleep, Si,” she murmurs, her voice a halo of protection over him and their bed. “I’ll guard your dreams for you.”

[lecxtasy]

official first look at the first chapter of INFERNO!

Or, the prosenna centric f1 fanfic with drivers from different eras all thrown into one grid, in the y2k!

out in about a week, enjoy<3

sneak peek, below the cut

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

Schumacher and Button slip into friendly banter about this year’s WDC, and despite himself, Ayrton’s mind is distracted elsewhere. It’s caught up trying to trace the trajectory of Rosberg’s gaze. The better one (aka, not Keke). The disco lights make it a hassle for Ayrton to figure out what's gotten Nico’s knickers in a twist but this is his territory after all. So what would usually take him a few seconds to put two and two together, takes him a few minutes. 

It’s a moppy look, Ayrton thinks, and for his sake and that of anyone and everyone that had to put up with him back in the day, he hopes he wasn’t this down bad.

This is about the time his inner monologue would go: You’re fooling no one Ayrton.

With a light smile on his face, he approaches the barstool Nico has had his ass planted on since the start of the party. It isn’t until he’s within a 1-metre radius of the blond when details hit his mind like tetris blocks. He can practically hear the wineglass’s cries of agony, what with the way Rosberg’s fingers are snaked around them in a vise-like grip, all white from the pressure and Senna’s surprised he went this long without breaking it five minutes into the party. Or, after Lewis arrived with a girl in his arms.

With a soft ahem to clear his throat, he claps on Nico’s shoulders, calling him in a way he hopes is casual. Nothing I’m sorry your man is fucking up, I know how it feels “And how’s my favourite Rosberg tonight?”

Under his palms, he feels the tautness of his shoulders melt. 

“I’m glad I could win the position. It was a real tough competition with my dad,” he tries to deadpan. Tries being the keyword, because his voice doesn’t sport the extra decibel of calm  it does when he’s not overworking his brain with maybes and what-ifs, Ayrton notices.

“Oh I bet,” Ayrton humours him, before continuing a smidge softer, “he kept looking at you, y’know?”

Nico scoffs before throwing Ayrton’s own words back at him, “Oh, I bet.”

Sighing, Ayrton turns to face him completely. If the recessed lighting from the mirrorball was an excuse for not reading the room quite right before, the proximity does the job when he’s greeted with his-usually bright eyes droopy. From what, he knows all too well. Something something pot calling the kettle black.

“Look, hey,” he starts, “it’ll be-”

“Save it.” 

He does. 

He still remembers meeting Keke’s son in the holidays. “Nico” he’d enunciated the name, who was only 7 at the time, had been ecstatic. Apparently, meeting Senna was his birthday present (alongside the Ariel Atom 4, which he only later discovered). 

The image is as clear as if it were yesterday. Hell, he practically sees it flash before his eyes like some movie.

Wide eyes and flushed cheeks had accompanied the kid’s remark, “One day, I want to be like you.”

He’d smiled at that, all warm and soft. The way he only did with children.

“Shush, see your old gramps over there?” he pointed at the older version of the little blond he kneeled down next to, “He’s going to be a petty little shit and give me hard time come next race,”

Little Rosberg (or the Better Rosberg, as Ayrton would rather say) chuckled, and Keke smacked Ayrton’s head lightly, warning him, “Don’t curse around him, motherfixer.”

“Aw, look, you're finally turning into a dad! The ‘92 Rosberg could never,” 

His face softened, “He could never.”

“If someone ever told me you’d be the one to get into the role of the mushy father the first out of all of us back then, I would have laughed in their face,”

Keke’s own chuckle resounded across the waters of Lake Como, “That’s the only valid response I suppose. Which is still better ‘cause I’d have punched them, trust me,”

“Absolutely zero qualms about it,” 

The telltale rays of crimson kissed the waters at long last.

And then, in a voice that’s all too soft, he said with a weird look on his face, “And I’m glad I can say that now.”

Thud sounds the push to the chair that precedes Nico’s evasion and brings Ayrton back to Beleza and while inherently, he knows that if words had human counterparts, Nico’s would be “prudent”, he also knows a thing or two about unrequited longing himself.

And well, what do they say about burnt children dreading the fire?