#I feel like I should be writing fanfics

[yippieitsarvensart]

i love floyd leech all i ever want is for him to be happy and well and healthy. do you get it. i also need to talk abt him almost all the time... ourgh

but YES them !!!! i prefer to say sebesilrid but its up to you <3 theyre literally riddle's knights in shiny armor it makes me sick

like you said its knights/queen coded. which rlly makes me think abt the two of them helping riddle out on a daily basis..... like getting his food, helping him dress himself, grabbing & carrying his books, etc. whatever the queen's wish is they will fulfill it

i also think it would be pretty cute if sebek had a human (coff coff riddle coff) he wants to get praise from. and silver would obviously figure it out and tease him abt it

PLUS theyre in the same club!!!! theyre all horse girlies. ik im right

i think its a nice detail that they all have this sense of disconnection from their peers. silver is the only human surrounded by fae at his hometown, sebek is half fae half human which means he feels disconnected from both species, and riddle had an isolate childhood with nothing but study. theyre all out of the loop somehow, and i think that they could complement each otjer w the things they do know!

plus in my head the one to confess is always silver. hes too "no filter" to not slip that he likes them and theres no need to tiptoe around them & their feelings. he does try to make sure abt their feelings first but its just so things goes smoothly! then sebek confesses to rid after some encouragement wink wink

just. urgh. those three.... im sooo glad you liked them hehe 🥰🥰 if theyre your fav Dw i gotchu i can alwaya ramble/write fanfics/draw them for you. just pls dont cry ohmygosh?

HOW CAN YOU ASK ME NOT TO CRY OVER THEM I'M LITERALLY SO EMOTIONAL ALL THE TIMMEEE

You're making me love them so bad I IIIiIisidnANHFDJSHJsj falls to the floor ?? and explodes??? The part where you say that they'd always go help Riddle out makes me think... About how utterly devoted to Riddle Sebek must be, to LEAVE Malleus to go "serve" under someone else?? And I know he worships the hellll out of Mally...

Everyone else (especially in Diasmonia) would be able to tell Sebek has a massive crush on Riddle, and like, Riddle totally doesn't know at all. He's kinda freaked out by the sudden attention/assistance he's getting from Sebek, always asking him "Don't you have to go check on Malleus? You've been with me all day-" and then is interrupted by seb like "NO! MALLEUS IS FINE... He- He said I was allowed to stay with you. Just for today." (he says that every day, and also he's lying. It's also a very obvious lie, but Riddle is kinda dumb, yu kno... hehehe)

And on that note, a personal hc of mine is that all three of them are autistic (autism twisted wonderland who?) so while Sebek is (badly) lying to Riddle, Silver doesn't pick up that he's lying either and is like "... no? We ran off today so-" and gets a hand over the mouth SO FAST.

If I had money I would be commissioning everyone and their mothers to draw me some sebesilrid I swear I would, but seeing as I'M the artist in chat I will have to do this myself... *cracks knuckles* But if YOU do anything.... tag me pleas... >_<

[crazy-ache]

I’ve been interacting with new fanfic writers and also been seeing some folks share the fact that they care about hits, bookmarks, and comments on their work as if they’re embarrassed by that fact.

I’m just here to say you shouldn’t ever ever ever feel that way.

Writing, in this case fanfiction writing, can be a very lonely journey at times. If you’re brave enough to post online, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to receive validation. Because when you don’t, I think that’s the equivalent of playing or singing a song and nobody claps once you’re done. Imagine the Olympics or local sports arena or little league game with empty stands. Not a single soul cheering at the end of a concert. Nobody shows up to the art gallery. Nobody eats the baked goods you made with love at the party. All of those scenarios undoubtedly hurt.

Yes, you did it for yourself. Because you love this passion of yours. Because you’re working on your skills. Because you’re proving something to yourself.

But there’s a reason so many of humanity’s passions happen in front of a crowd.

Art is meant to be seen, music is meant to be heard, and yes, fanfiction is meant to be read.

We all want to know our art made an echo.

And yes, we all want to know somebody clapped for us. It validates us, it encourages us, it motivates us to keep going when we’re burnt out. It’s also just plain fun. All of these apply to world class musicians or athletes. For fan fiction writers, the audience cheering is as simple as a hit or a comment. It’s someone engaging with our work in a positive manner. So if you’re feeling that way and you feel bad about it—remember you’re human. And your passion and hobby is just as worthy of receiving audience reception as anybody else.

Fanfiction is a communal space, not just a solitary act. Give love back. Engage wherever and whenever you can. Open yourself to viewing this as a two way dialogue with other writers and readers. Give yourself grace and compassion when you’re disappointed. And when it’s your turn—don’t forget to clap.

[zephyrchama]

Quick Leviathan fluff that got out of control (1.4k words). SFW with suggestive aspects, MC's gender isn't mentioned.

---🧵🪡---

Ever since the release of the new Hana Ruri: Transparent Tarot Arc promotional video, Leviathan had make himself scarce. He'd erratically come out for food once in a while or grab an Akuzon package within minutes of it being delivered, but you hadn't received so much as a text from him in a week.

A mechanical whirring sometimes emanated from his room - the sound of a sewing machine at work. The occasional Sucre Frenzy song would accompany it. Nobody was worried, but it at least let everyone know the Avatar of Envy was still alive. Sometimes you'd peek in to make sure he was okay and leave a sandwich at the door. It gets lonely without him though, and eventually you went to talk with him.

The room was chilly, with the AC cranked up high. Leviathan was sitting on the ground, facing the door but blind to everything except the materials in front of him. Rolls of lace and ribbon, jars of sparkling cabochons, cases full of colorful thread and assorted sewing needles. With an impressed "woah!" you moved some empty boxes aside and sat down across from him to get a better look.

He jumped. "Gah! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I knocked."

"I'm busy right now. I have to finish this, it's almost ready." Leviathan glanced at his desk.

A nearly exact replica of Ruri's new PV outfit was laid out next to his PC setup. It was gorgeous. Each piece had been painstakingly recreated and carefully set out over the empty flat surfaces in his room. Fully lined with a glittering beaded trim. The base fabric had a high quality sheen even in the dim light of Levi's room, with satin stitched silk applique petals accenting the skirt.

You admired the handiwork. Then, you admired its maker. Leviathan was carefully stitching fabric flowers to a hat with intense focus. He relied on holding in small, shallow breaths to prevent his hands from shaking. He was blinking more than usual, fighting off the accumulated sleep deprivation. It marred his handsome face with dark eye bags.

You sat next to him for a while and stared. The usually shy Leviathan was too engrossed in his crafting to pay any mind. The more focused he got, the more he frowned, accentuating the wrinkles around his mouth.

"Yeah... you need a break."

"Not now." He picked up a thin awl and poked some holes where the seam was particularly thick.

Talking was futile, you quickly noted that nothing you said would make a difference, so you watched. Every few minutes, a portion of Leviathan's long bangs fell in front of his eyes and he'd blow them out of the way. He flinched when you gently swept them out of the way, as though he forgot you were there.

He huffed. "Like I said! I just have to finish this, so leave me alone. I'm almost done."

The exhaustion was clearly taking over. You hated seeing Leviathan like this, a cold grumpy shell of his normally warm and passionate self.

You intercepted his hand when he reached for another bushel of flowers. His fingertips were calloused and dotted with red indents from hand sewing thousands of stitches without a thimble. It looked painful. No wonder he was working so slowly.

"Levi..."

You lightly traced over his damaged fingertips before weaving your fingers together. You gave his hand a squeeze and his expression slightly eased.

"You're so soft," he grumbled, then fiercely shook his head. "I have to keep working, let go."

That was out of the question. You were determined to break him and force him to rest. You held on and rubbed your thumb on his.

"Ghh, stop!"

Leviathan could easily push you away, but he didn't. Instead, he raised your entwined hands to his face and pressed them against his cheek. "I'm so tired."

"I know."

"You smell so good. It's distracting."

"Thanks. Your dress is pretty."

"It's not... it's... not enough..." Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. "I can't find the right iridescent fabric so the colors will look off in the sunlight, and my shoulders are too broad so the silhouette of the top looks weird. So to compensate I made the sleeves bigger with more poof but I had to add more darts and you can see there are more seam lines here than in the reference image. And the buttons would look better with a wooden texture but all I had on me to make them was resin, which bubbled on the back, so what if their structural integrity is weake--"

Levi eeped, stiffening as you leaned into a tight hug. You were glad he was talking to you. But he was overthinking, and frustrated. Stressed, and more than anything he needed to take a break.

You expressed as much, scooting back while holding his shoulders at arm's length. "You might think it sucks, but this costume is all you've been doing. You haven't looked at anything else in a week so you've got nothing to compare it to. It's so gorgeous, Levi. Every stitch. Take a break with me and I'll help you finish it in the morning. You'll see how amazing it really is. Okay?"

A tear drop slid down his face, he quickly wiped it away. Leviathan avoided your gaze by staring at his creation, unwilling to walk away while it remained unfinished. "I'm so tired," he repeated.

"Hana Ruri-tan would want you to take a nap. And I want you to take a nap."

Leviathan frowned again, having no logical way to refute that statement. You let him tidy up a few final things as you inspected his bed-tub.

Scraps of spare fabric dangled over the sides. You picked up his sheets to brush off loose threads, plucking out a few loose pins in the process. Pillows were fluffed. Extra fabric was put on a hanger and moved elsewhere. Rolls of ribbon were wound back up. It was kind of relaxing.

Leviathan was rushing to glue a rhinestone when you called him over, his last-ditch attempt to get one more thing finished. You let him spend another couple of minutes waiting for the paste to get tacky. Once it was finally secured in place on the hat brim, he thankfully didn't object any further. After wiping his hands clean he flopped magnificently into bed.

Not even five seconds passed by before he griped, "I can't fall asleep. I can't stop thinking about the costume. I should finish it now."

"Nooo, no, no. No. Move over, you're not getting up. I'm getting in." You slipped into the tub before he could pick himself up, draping your legs over his. "The hat can wait until morning. Then we can get pics of everything, too."

Leviathan sighed in stubborn agreement. His orange eyes, puffy and a little irritated, were looking right at you for the first time that evening.

"You'll let me think about you then, right?" he asked quietly. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand bunching up the fabric on the back of your shirt while the other grazed against your bare skin. His rough fingers traced along your spine. You made a mental note to help him bandage them later.

Pulling you flush against his upper body, he nudged his face into the side of your neck and slid his lips up your shoulder. You hooked an arm under his to gently comb through his hair, resting your chin against his head. It tickled a little, but you felt each passing breath get heavier and slower as your comforting scent lulled Leviathan into much-needed sleep. You soon followed his lead.

Come morning, Leviathan had you in a tight grip while you blearily woke up on top of him. His wandering hands had found their way up your shirt during the night and one of his legs was thrown over yours. You had planned the surprise of getting up early to finish his hat for him, but at this point a surprise morning snuggle was all you could manage.

"Hmmh? What... oh!" Levi woke quickly, with the intense determination of someone ready to finish the cosplay they've been crunching for a week straight. He looked so much better with color returned to his face. Too much color, perhaps, as the more he let go of you the redder his blush became.

"I'll be... uh... bathroom." He dragged himself out of the tub and quickly walked towards the hall, failing miserably to cover his blatant embarrassment.

"Wait! Can I start working on some things while you're gone?" you asked, motioning towards the nearly-finished costume.

Leviathan nodded. "Uh, yeah...? Go ahead."

"And you'll try it all on for me when you get back, right?"

With a full night's rest behind him and the finish line in clear sight, the giddiness of an exciting new cosplay was returning and Leviathan gave a cheerful "yeah... Ok, yeah! I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere!"

[konigbabe]

heavenly sin

Pairing: RE4!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags/warnings: smut (pure unfiltered filth, no plot); voice kink; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; female masturbation; fingering; cunnilingus; established relationship; no y/n; references to Christianity and ferocity; extensive wordplay

Summary: It's been known that Leon is one kinky bastard.

A/N: Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. N is for narratophilia aka being aroused by sexual storytelling.

Tried something a little bit different to explore my knowledge of English. A wordplay of sorts (I basically threw random words together in hopes that it'd make some sense). Bon Appetit.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

“You enjoying yourself?” As Leon discards his gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity. “If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

It started as a joke, a fleeting spark in the sea of banter. Leon’s flirtatious nature entwined in perfect harmony with his tender heart.

Fresh out of the shower, your heart longed for the man whose sudden departures have become routine. A standard in your life.

The sun made its final descent below the horizon, the sky painted in shades of amber and gold – the bedroom awash in a warm and inviting glow, as if every object was kissed by the sun's final rays. The light filtered through the sheer curtains, creating patterns on the floor that danced like flickering flames.

And in the midst of it all, Leon's call came through, cutting through the stillness.

The conversation began innocently. Calling to let you know he’ll be home soon. It was as though his tenderness was butterfly's wings, fluttering in your chest and making your heart skip a beat.

His sincere words slowly spilt over into something else. Something more. Something promising.

It’s now that the phone lies next to your ear, and Leon's voice, like a silk ribbon, unwinds into your consciousness, stirring a deep and primal desire within you. Building the anticipation need inside you.

“After that, I’d bent you over the table. You’d already be naked and dripping,” Leon’s voice a song of Solomon, “but I’d be far from done with you.”

A gasp, soft and quiet, escapes your parted lips. Every fibre of your body, every cell is set on fire. The setting sun casting flames over your naked skin of yours. Flesh burning. Body wrapped in a cocoon of passionate flames – your palm pressing against the sensitive nub, the pressure light as a feather. Slow, languid strokes of your fingers follow Leon’s words.

Muscles tightening as the pressure keeps adding with each sentence. Slow and steady. With a pace of a gentle stream. Dipping one finger deep inside your slick walls, only to stop when you reach fully inside.

A stream of docile moans flows from your throat.

“Just to feel you take my cock. Hear those gorgeous gasps as you beg me to give it to you,” hand gripping the messed-up sheets underneath you, squeezing tight as you add another finger, curling them upwards.

“Rough, just how you like it. Pretty sure we’d break the table,” Leon’s words are accompanied by a light chuckle, hiding much more sinister and vivid ideas inside his head.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him cuss. Your voice carries the weight of longing, desire, and devotion. Making Leon wish to finally be home.

“Fuck. Could spend all day between those lovely legs of yours.” Leon’s voice descends to a low murmur, tinged with raw, feral hunger.

With a touch as tender as a butterfly’s wing, thumb circling the aching nub of nerves; it ignites a wildfire of ecstasy within your body. As you lightly graze your opening, feeling the softness of your slick walls, a delicate gasp escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of submission to this moment of pure passion and pleasure.

“Just to taste that pretty pussy of yours on my tongue.”

Leon's voice pours into the phone, rich and sinful. You hear the front door open with a soft creak, the sound echoing through your body. He's finally home, his presence filling your senses with a heady aroma of musk and lust, a tantalizing potion that you can't resist.

He gazes at you with eyes like storm clouds brewing with desire. The air is thick with the scent of sex and your yearning, hanging in the dimly lit bedroom, resembling a heavy fog. You keep your gaze locked with his, transfixed as Leon strides in, his figure outlined by the glow of light seeping in from the hallway.

You don’t stop–

–instead, your fingers delve deeper. Nails grazing the tender walls, the slight discomfort only adding to the pleasure. Like a deer caught in headlines, your eyes stay on his.

The sound of your slickness echoes in the room as you thrust in and out, unconsciously matching the rhythm of Leon's steps – left in, right out, left in, right out – a dance of carnal desire.

And just like that, he stands on the side of the bed.

Leon’s eyes gleam with a fierce intensity. A perfect blend of predatory sensuality and effortless ease. With the grace of a pather; clad in a black henley shirt, the first two buttons undone, exposing the slight curve of his clavicles. It molds to his chiseled form as though it was a second skin, making Leon exude a primal magnetism that draws you closer to your high.

Spellbound by the scene in front of him – by you; fingers deep inside, eyes glazed over with orgasmic ecstasy as your work yourself to your high.

The air is thick with the sweet scent of your desire, a heady aroma that fills his senses with an overwhelming urge to indulge in your rapture.

He steps closer, placing one knee on the bed. The mattress creaks under his weight, but his gaze never leaves yours. It's as if you're the only person in the world that matters to him right now. The heat emanating from his body is palpable, and you feel your heart race as his presence commands the room.

“You enjoying yourself?”

His tone is low. A seductive purr sends a wave of electricity through your veins. Hot like molten lava. Dripping like honey, sweet and luscious. They linger in the air, coating everything around you with a sticky warmth.

His name leaves your lips in a deep sigh. Soft walls squeeze your fingers.

As he discards his fingerless gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity.

Leon’s arm flexes, the sinewy muscles bulging when put to work. Your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the raw masculinity and primal allure of his being. A contented moan escapes your lips, an instinctive reaction to the overwhelming sensuality of the moment.

“If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

His towering form casts a shadow over you as he leans closer. Lips so close you can almost taste the desire that emanated from him. The heat of his breath dances across your skin, making your senses swirl in a dizzying haze of lust; igniting a fire that burns with the intensity of Samson's strength.

“Wanna gimme a kiss?” he whispers, his lips almost brushing against yours. You’re still able to feel the soft graze of the plump skin atop of yours, sending a fluttering sensation to your heart.

You can't help but feel intoxicated by his voice, each word rolling off his tongue with a silky smoothness that sends shivers down your spine. It's almost like he's casting a spell, using his voice as a weapon to ensnare you in his grasp. And you willingly surrender, caught in the web of his honeyed words; like Delilah, powerless to his will, swept away by the power of his seduction.

Lips grazing his, you push your face upwards to be closer. The kiss is both gentle and fierce; a tantalizing dance of lips and tongues that leaves you breathless and wanting more. The taste of him a mix of mint and spice. You stop the movement of your wrist between your legs. Stilling, feeling the wet squeeze around your fingers, your mind becomes a blank canvas, a vast expanse of nothingness.

The taste of him lingers on your tongue as he pulls away. Thick fingers wrapping around your wrist, he nudges your fingers out of you. A displeased grunt leaves your lips at the sudden emptiness. Only to have your breath stop; watching as Leon brings your hand, fingers visibly sticky with your juices, tongue swirling around the tip of your index finger before taking two of the fingers in his mouth. It’s as if he’s tasting the forbidden fruit, savoring the flavor of your arousal like the sweetest nectar.

Feeling the wet tip of his tongue swirl around your fingers, you can’t help but let out a soft moan. The rough texture brushes over the pads of your fingers. Licking every drop of you off of your fingers, leaving them clean before he licks his own lips.

“Missed that taste.”

His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense with desire as he slowly releases your hand.

“Missed you almost that much too.”

His words wash over you like a warm embrace, seeping into your pores and settling deep within your bones. As his body moves over yours, his hands glide across the burning expanse of your skin, tracing patterns of passion that leave you breathless in anticipation. The soft touch of his lips on your navel sends ripples of pleasure through your body, each sensation building on the last until you're gasping for air.

Leon sinks to his knees at the end of the bed; his movements smooth and graceful. Years of never-ending training left him in full control of every muscle. Arms sliding underneath your knees, he holds you firmly as he grips your hips with unyielding strength.

A single tug. Confident in its prosecution. He brings you to the edge of the bed, your glistening cunt hovering in front of his face. The sight of him there, between your legs, both captivating and overwhelming.

The wet tip of his tongue peaks from within his kiss-bruised lips.

Before you know it, you’re completely undone. A mess. Leon's tongue turns your body into a temple of pleasure; his movements sinuous and calculated. With each flick and swirl of his tongue, he's coaxing you to heights of ecstasy.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing cunt, flicking and teasing your clit as you squirm beneath him, one hand grasping his soft hair while the other squeezes your breast. His fingers, thick and rough, plunge deep inside of you, finding all the right spots to drive you wild. Each thrust of his hand sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you moan and writhe with need.

"Such a fucking filthy little thing," he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath making you shiver. He devours you with his mouth and hands, taking you to the brink of ecstasy and back again; fingers scissoring and pumping, working you over until you're a quivering mess of desire.

The blunt pressure of the tips of his fingers pressing mildly against your inner walls sending pinnacles of bliss across your body until you’re mewling at the sharp pleasure that ripples down your spine.

You claw at the sheets, unable to control the waves of sensation that crash over you.

And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, you let yourself go, your body convulsing in waves of pure pleasure. Ecstasy; Leon’s name a sweetened melody on the tip of your tongue.

He stands up afterwards, a towering figure before your eyes. Your aching legs fall from his shoulders onto the bed. Leon looms over you, appearing almost god-like, a divine being sent to ravage you with its passion.

Disposing of his shirt, you lay on the bed motionless, senses on high and in anticipation as you watch the man strip. With every article of clothing that comes off, Leon’s body reveals itself in all its glory. Shoulders and chest sculptured, shaped by years of intense training. Someone who’s worked hard to achieve such a physique. Rippling muscles that flex with every movement he makes. His arms thick with veins and biceps that bulge with raw strength, capable of holding you up effortlessly. You can see every ridge of his abs, each one chiseled to perfection.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he rasps after ridding himself of the last article while you shamelessly stare at Leon’s sheer size and the strength of him.

“Very much,” you breathe out when he crawls on top of you.

His cock rests atop your stomach, heavy and pulsing with need; leaking as he marks you in his precum. Yet, neither of you moves. Unbothered, you remain locked in his gaze before his lips capture yours in a short passionate kiss. Drawn together by the irresistible pull of gravity, your lips meet in a collision of desire and longing.

Legs wrapping high around his waist, his hand leaves the side of your neck and travels the side of your body, igniting a trail of heat as it goes. Leon strokes the length of your thigh, only stopping when his fingers rest under your knee momentarily. Then you feel the blunt tip press against your aching cunt. The anticipation inside you unravels like a tightly wound spool, releasing a flood of sensations that spreads throughout your body.

“Ready?” he breathes out; his warm breath tickles your skin as his lips brush against yours once again.

The silky texture of his hair brush against your fingertips. Legs tightening around his upper body, you pull him closer to you. “Yeah.”

The pressure against your throbbing cunt intensifies as Leon presses forward. The crown of his cock splits you open with ease, enveloping him. Welcoming him eagerly in your wet heat. As if he belongs there.

Leon’s touch’s electric, sending shivers down your spine as he claims you with each bite and kiss. His teeth graze your chin, softly nibbling at the skin as he lets out a guttural grunt. Keeping one hand on the side of your neck, possessive and tender, surely to feel the rapid pulse of your jugular vein, he hooks his thumb underneath your jaw and pushes upwards.

When your head is tilted upwards enough to his satisfaction, his lips latch on the front of your neck. Small, quick bites decorate the stretched skin. Followed by a wet kiss, he sucks on the skin. Vulnerable and exposed.

Moans cascade from your lips, an ode to his cock splitting you apart slowly. A divine intrusion into your depths, filling you.

He stills when he’s buried balls deep inside of you; bottoms out in your quivering walls, slick with post-orgasmic arousal.

The feeling of fullness, of being completely filled, is almost too much to bear. Your breath hitches in your throat, body trembling with pleasure as it strains to accommodate him; to make enough space to take him in.

Your eyes flatter shut as he waits, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hand cups the underside of your breast with his thumb teasing your nipple in a leisurely manner.

A moment of content falls between you. Bodies molded together; two halves of a whole.

After a few seconds, you press the sole of your feet into his skin, feeling the taunt muscle contract underneath you.

A subtle but unmistakable gesture. A wordless plea for more.

A fuck me of sorts.

Your body speaks volumes, a language he's learned to decipher. And with a low growl, he responds to your invitation. A low roll of his hips. A test of your readiness. It becomes a measured beat that tests your strength, the pressure of his cock firmly pressed against the walls of your cervix.

It has you sent into a harmonious frenzy.

Leon continues with the rhythm. Relishing in the tight squeeze of your cunt, in the way you sing for him, his name a sacred hymn on your lips. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure courses through you.

His hands sear a blazing trail on your burning flesh. Every touch feels as if he’s branding you, etching himself onto your skin.

The wetness of his lips causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. Moving like a reverent prayer. Worship of your body as his tongue swipes over your sensitive nipples.

Your name escapes his lips and is met with a low moan.

Tantalizing and peaceful.

Leon’s unhurried movements slowly transform into something more. Rough and hasty. Teeth nibbling at your jawline, feeling the bone underneath the skin, your nails bite into the tight muscle of his shoulder blades. Surely to leave indents that will bloom into bruises and marks. Your back arch, offering yourself up to him as you focus on meeting his thrusts.

As his hand wanders down the length of your body, his fingers dance along the curves of your waist and hips before grazing the globes of your ass; giving it a rough squeeze before wrapping his fingers under your knee and pulling away from your neck.

Meanwhile, his other hand braces his body weight by your face. Leon’s fingers entwine around your ankle. Pushing your leg up and over his shoulder, you moan over the painful stretch of your hamstring as he gazes at you.

He moves with a frenzied urgency. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, his fingers find their way to your clit.

The way he flicks over the sensitive nub elicits a series of moans and cries from you only to be silenced by his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is wet and messy. Hungry. Both of you eager to take and dominate, his tongue dancing with yours in a frenzied manner.

It's like he's a man possessed, lost in the rhythm of his movements and the feel of your body beneath him. You writhe and moan, lost in a haze of sensation and desire as he takes you higher towards that ultimate release. That sweet orgasm. Every motion is a symphony, a perfect blend of power and finesse, as he explores the contours of your body with a deep hunger.

Mind becoming blurry, your senses are consumed by the raw, primal desire Leon elicits with his thrusts. Moving to brace himself better, it feels impossible when you feel the blunt pressure hit even deeper than before. Gasping, you move your hips, trying to take him as deep as possible.

The smell of sweat and sex fills the air, and you can hear the sound of skin slapping against the skin as Leon moves with increasing speed and intensity. His determination to tear you apart only grows each time your hips meet, sending bolts of electricity throughout your every cell. His thumb flicks over your clit, applying pressure and circling the aching bud until you’re quivering underneath the mass of a man above you. Inside you.

The sound of his grunts and moans blends into a symphony of pleasure, each note building up the tension within you. You feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption, bubbling with molten passion until it finally snaps. Erupts.

A tidal wave of pleasure washes over you. Sweeping you in a vortex of delight. A thousand stars explode in your mind, each one brighter than the last, painting your vision with vibrant colors. Your body convulses, spasming in rhythm with the waves of pleasure that ripple through you.

Gasps leave your lips. Desperate for air, you cling to Leon, whose thrusts never wavered. Whose fingers continue to tease your clit, now throbbing and exploding with sensitivity. His eyes lock on yours, lips parted with low moans escaping from between before you bring his face down to you, swallowing each cry of pleasure but eventually, he pulls away.

You watch as Leon’s eyes snap shut, brows furrowing in pleasure as he stills. His full length buried inside of your spasming cunt, filling you up with his cum.

Your body’s spent. Yet your mind’s still reeling from the sheer intensity as Leon remains buried inside; his breath ragged and uneven before he pulls out with measured slowness, teasing your oversensitive clit with a gentle tap. You shudder at the sensation of him trickling out of you.

“Hi.”

The simple word leaves your mouth in a breathless whisper. A mere welcome that was meant to be addressed when he first entered your home instead of now. A warmth spreads through your body, settling low in your belly as you take in the sight of him; the way his blond hair falls across his forehead, resembling a halo of an angel. Cheeks tinted in light pink and lips curved into a small smile as he looks at you.

“Hi.”

[reflectionsofacreator]

Unfortunately he wasn’t alone, as evidenced by the frayed red beanie that hid a mop of tangled black hair behind a half brick wall, and that low low whisper against the back of his mind.  “A ha!” Ellie Nightingale shouted, and vaulted over the brick wall to point at him dramatically. “It’s you!” “It’s me,” Jason agreed, and tilted his head curiously. “What do you want?”  “So you’re the guy who’s dating Dani,” she said, punctuated by an obnoxious pop of chewing gum and completely ignoring his question. Jason let his head fall back slightly and prayed for strength. He didn’t believe in god, except when it came to dealing with Little Shits of siblings.  Ellie cackled and clapped her hands maniacally. “Oooh, and you’ve got Dani’s coffee too.”  “Hi,” Jason said, cause he was going to try and be nice. “You must be Ellie.”  “Gimmie.” She said, and reached for Dani’s coffee.  “Ey, no, this isn’t for you!” Jason yelped, and lifted it up too high for her to reach. She glared at him, then jumped up to try and get at it, only to hang from his forearm. She was … light. Too light, for a kid her age and size. She was what, thirteen at most? She could’ve fought Tim for shrimpy sizes at that age.  “C’mon!” She whined, kicking her feet slightly before dropping down with a slight thud. “Jerk.”  “And here I was going to offer to buy you your own,” Jason snarked, and smirked when Ellie’s blue eyes widened and turned calculating.  “Oh yeah? What’s your angle, huh?” She demanded, and it was impressive how light she kept her tone, like she was just joking around, but Jason could hear the thread of hardness in her voice. It wasn’t for nothing that the girl had gotten on with the rest of the street kids, and she fit in with them more than her story said she should.  “A glowing review for your sister?” Jason tried, trying to sound sheepish. He wasn't, but he needed to make a good impression. Aaand maybe if he kept telling himself that it would turn true, just like all those stories about gold under rainbows.   “… Get me a muffin too, and I’ll think about it,” Ellie sniffed. “One of those giant ones, with the chocolate chips.”  “Deal.” 

or

Jason gets to meet Ellie and learns more about the Nightingales, while Red Hood and Phantom learn about some trouble brewing.

--dry wine rebirth, ch 2: taking chances

My fics are currently on lockdown and only available to registered users; if you need one, I have invites.

[szynkaaa]

Mandatory relationship graph to get to know my ship(s) better. And yes, two graphs because I see DO and SWK as two different person and the dynamics would differ too.

Some thoughts

I have SWK listed up taller than DO - in my AU, the DO starts out being 160cm tall and then grows with each artifact he collects. It's also why in some of my art you can see DO being taller than Oz, or the same height as her.

By the time the journey comes to an end, Oz's hair has grown longer. She's still undecided about cutting it or not.

I don't think the DO has a high horny level, I think he is faaaar too focused on completing his quest of obtaining all the artifacts. But he does get flustered very easily when Oz sometimes grabs his hand or clings on to him cause something scared her, or when she compliments him.

DO does very easily get jealous though, he is a wee bit possessive. He does't like seeing other people or yaoguai get close to her, it makes him want to just wrap his arms around her and not let her go while glaring thousand daggers at the other person. He was not happy when Oz jokingly asked if the Yin Tiger is married and if not he would marry her.

DO and Oz switches between big and small spoon, although I think the taller DO grows the more he prefers to be the big spoon. SWK is the big spoon no questions asked ("You're such a koala sheesh." "I do not know what this koala you speak of is.")

With DO, Oz had lot's of different names to call him, mostly just to get his attention. "oi, you. Monkie. Kiwi. Peach. Luffy (kudos if you get the reference)".

With Su Wukong, it's mostly him that has the endearing nicknames for her, stuff like 樱花 (Yīnghuā, cherryblossom bc of her hair color), 心肝宝贝(heart and liver treasure), darling, princess, my queen.

I don't see Oz having a lot of nicknames for SWK though, she'll most likely refer to him with Wukong. If she is calling him The Great Sage, Your Highness, Your Majesty, she is being sarcastic.

There is no confession between DO and Oz, I think both are being far too busy trying to survive, with one trying to get all the artifacts and the other trying to go home. But there is no doubt that they care for each other and have become good friends.

SWK confesses first. My HC is that after the whole journey to the west + buddhahood + leaving buddhahood + gamble and plan his death + the experience and memories he gaines as DO traveling with Oz made him a lot more mature and appreciate the things he has in his long (immortal) life. And that includes Oz. Of course he still maintains a mischievious streak. He knows what he wants and he wants to be with her. He also knows that she has other shit to deal with, like the Celestial Court trying to put a leash on her now (because family history) and that she is still looking for a way back home, so he tell her how he feels, but that he understands she has other priorities at the moment, aaaand that he will continue to support her and be her friend, but also that he will wait for her because what is another 500 years of waiting ("yeah i don't think I'm gonna live that long.")

also also, SWK is definitely the hornier one. But he doesn't get jealous or possesive like DO does. He is very secure in himself and he trusts his partner. Ofc if someone is being pushy and makes Oz uncomfortable he will step in ASAP

I've also marked DO as having no relationship experience because I don't see him as having any, i feel like all his life he was preparing for this quest. But since he gets SWK memories after he finishes the quest, I do think that makes him having some experience? Especially since the game mentiones SWK and White Bone Demon were a thing, and he was im trever able to let her go and it was one of the reasons he left buddhahood. Idk about you but I do think that indicates a deep bond they had.

aaaaand that's it. Here is the empty template for those who also want to do it:

[somewhereincairparavel]

I'm so immersed in my jason grace new rome uni fic that I'm studying ancient roman law terms using this as an excuse. help.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I am always thinking TimJay thoughts related to the fact that they have matching scars from getting their throats slit, and not only that, but Jason slit Tim's throat first in an attempt to threaten Bruce, where Tim was nothing more than a pawn for Jason to use to emotionally manipulate Bruce.

batman (1940) #618

And then, just a little while later when Jason is trying to confront Bruce and do his whole dramatic moment with Joker in UTRH, and Bruce slits Jason's throat to stop Jason from killing the Joker.

batman (1940) #650

It makes me so Unwell. They have literal matching scars. When do you think Jason realizes it? When do you think, while running his fingers over the scar he has to always remind himself that Bruce was willing to jeopardize Jason's own life just to save the Joker, Jason realized it was the same scar *he* gave Tim? And does it click for him too, that he and Tim are a lot alike? Being used as pawns in Bruce's game? And for the first time he maybe understands Tim Drake, just another kid trying to get Bruce's attention and approval? And Jason did to Tim exactly what Bruce did to Jason? And that's part of what spurns on Jason's obsession with Tim, trying to "save" Tim from Bruce's ideology?

When they finally get together does it make Jason even more possessive? He put that mark on Tim and now he has his own to match. It's the closest to being understood and loved he's ever felt when Tim runs his fingers over Jason's scar at the same time Jason touches Tim's. Mirrors of each other, in a fun, fucked up little way.

[skyward-floored]

Shatter

(Alternate title: Warriors Gets Jarred)

HAPPY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY @adrift-in-thyme!!!! I finally finished the fic I said I was going to write for you :3 I hope you like it, and I’m sorry once again for taking I don’t even know how many months to finish this XD

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“Ooooh, there’s something wrong about this place, I just know it.”

Time more than agreed with Wind’s anxious mutter, studying the trees at the side of the path. At first glance there was nothing strange with the forest they were all trekking through, but the longer they walked, the more nervous they all got. The forest was almost completely silent, no sound of squirrels in the underbrush, no birdsong in the trees. There was no life except for the foliage, and even that seemed strangely off, leaves more grey than green, flowers oddly dull.

Something seemed to hang in the very air, heavy and dark, and Time knew all of them had caught onto it, ears flicking, eyes darting towards shadows.

Something was wrong.

“Where did you say you think this great fairy was again?” Four asked in a quiet voice, and Hyrule hesitated, looking around the forest.

“There’s a magic source of some kind up ahead,” he said, but his voice was uncertain. “But these woods... they aren’t natural.”

“So something’s definitely up then,” Legend mumbled from his place on Twilight’s back. “Wonderful.”

“It’s not like we have any other options,” Sky quietly pointed out, gesturing with his arm that wasn’t in a sling. “It’s the hope of a Great Fairy through the unsettling woods or nothing.”

The rest of them murmured agreement, and Time looked back at all the heroes, worn down from a series of long fights, almost everyone injured without any supplies left to heal them. Legend was the worst off, a deep wound in his side and a concussion to boot, but they were all weary and in need of healing, broken arms and twisted ankles, bruises and cuts galore.

But they were in an in-between time period, one none of them recognized. They’d come across no towns or anywhere else where they could buy supplies, just monsters and wilderness, empty forests and fields.

So it was the Great Fairy or nothing.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves around them, and Time wasn’t the only one who stiffened, his ears twitching. Something like a laugh drifted on the wind, but it faded before he could pinpoint it.

He saw Warriors swallow next to him, and Wind rub anxiously at the dark bruise on his cheek.

“...Come on. This way,” Time said finally, able to sense the same magic Hyrule was following, and they all trailed after him, walking closer together then they had been previously.

It wasn’t long before the top of a structure poked through the trees, and Time steered towards it, following an overgrown, barely-there path. An old temple-like building rose up from the trees, thick vines clawing at dark stone, and they all paused to look up at it.

“This is it,” Time confirmed. Hyrule silently nodded in agreement.

They all exchanged looks, but nobody spoke further, and they all trailed inside.

Time relaxed just a bit at the familiar brush of fairy magic that drifted faintly around them, but he realized quickly that there weren’t any fairies inside, the space oddly dark. The Links looked around, studying dark stone and broken windows, and Time walked towards the pool of water on the far side of the room.

His steps were loud on the stones, and Time studied the pool uneasily, the water inside dull and dark.

Strangely dark.

“...This is really a fairy fountain?” Wind asked as they all gathered in the middle of the area, and Wild limped over to the pool, setting a foot near the water.

“I mean... it kinda looks like one,” Wild said, leaning out over the water. “Just... weird.”

“Careful Champion,” Warriors cautioned, slowly moving to stand beside him. “Something here isn’t...”

“Oh, some Heroes have come to visit, have they?”

All of them froze at the echoing voice, strangely harsh to their ears. Hyrule flinched and Warriors stiffened, but Time barely noticed, gaze focused on the pool.

The water was rippling, bubbles appearing on its surface.

“Seems they’ve come seeking help,” the voice continued, tittering when they all took a step back. “Oh, even injured they’re strapping specimens indeed...”

“Ew,” Legend muttered.

The voice laughed, and Time stepped forward, ignoring his unease. “We’ve come in need of healing,” he spoke in a level voice, and the voice went silent a moment. Time was sure he could feel eyes on them all.

“Healing, hmm... I don’t know. You all look so dashing with blood on you...”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Four whispered as the voice hummed. Time nodded, still watching the water. Great Fairies could be on the... unsettling side, but not like this, and he could feel the dark magic in the air now, thick and pungent, like an oily weight that sank into his skin.

Time set a hand on his sword.

“No. It’s not,” he said grimly.

“Does this magic feel familiar to anyone else?” Twilight whispered, a hand ghosting along his side where the Shadow’s axe had struck.

“Something’s wrong here,” Hyrule breathed behind them, hand still pressed to his chest. Time glanced at him and saw his eyes darting around the room, sweat beading on his brow. “Something’s really wrong here...”

“I think we need to leave,” Sky whispered.

The voice laughed like it had heard him, and they all went silent, watching the bubbling water.

“Leave? You just got here! Such fine heroes deserve a rest,” the voice almost purred, and Time‘s grip tightened on his sword. “Lovely specimens indeed... in fact...”

The water abruptly stilled, and the Links held their breath, every muscle in Time’s body alert and tensed.

“...I think I’ll keep you!”

The ground began to tremble under their feet, and Time felt the hair on his neck stand up, the water somehow growing darker as it bubbled again.

“Boys, get away from the—!”

A pale hand shot out of the water at the same time Warriors shoved Wild away, the hand closing around Warriors and pulling him under with a cry.

“Captain!” Twilight gasped as Time’s heart lurched, and they all ran to the water with their weapons drawn, Four helping Wild back to his feet.

The water had gone still again, but it was still frothy from the recent movement, and Time scanned its depths, looking frantically for any sign of Warriors below.

Nothing but dark water met him.

“I’m going to find him,” Sky said suddenly, marching forward as he pulled a necklace with a scale on it from under his shirt.

Time moved to stop him, prepared to argue that he couldn’t swim with a broken arm, but then the ground lurched under their feet. They were all knocked off-balance, and Twilight nearly dropped Legend with how harshly it shook. Time had to steady Wild, and they’d all barely regained their footing when something erupted from the pool, water splashing outwards and nearly soaking them as a laugh echoed around the room, unusually harsh and high-pitched.

Hyrule gasped and several of the others did along with him at the sight, horror rooting Time in place at the sight of what stood before them.

It was a Great Fairy, but wrong.

Her skin was ashen, her hair dull and lifeless, lacking any of the usual sparkle it should hold. Her dress was tattered, and the vines twirling around it and her body were dead and grey, like bleached bones of the plants that had once grown there. The only spot of color she sported were her eyes, and those barely counted, a sickly yellow and glowing with malice.

But worst of all was the sight of the large bottle she held possessively in her hand, long nails curled around the jar as she gently caressed it.

Warriors just barely visible inside with his hands pressed to the glass, soaking wet and looking absolutely terrified.

“Captain!” Sky gasped, and Time could only stare at Warriors for several moments, unable to tear his gaze away from the hero trapped inside of the glass.

Warriors met his eyes, his own unusually bright with fear, and all of a sudden Time was eleven again.

“Great fairy, we need your help. We can’t win this battle without you.”

Mask stood to the side as the captain knelt by the pool, the clash of weapons and screams of monsters and men coming from right outside. The squad they’d brought with them shifted uneasily as something howled, and Mask swallowed.

The Great Fairy was their last hope of victory here, and if she wasn’t willing to help them... it wouldn’t be pretty.

Right when he was about to grab the mask at his hip and see if he could do anything, the Great Fairy finally rose from her pool, leaning over the edge to smile at the captain.

“Of course I can help, little hero,” she laughed, bells in her voice. “...But not without a price. I trust you are willing?”

Something in her voice made Mask frown, but the Captain nodded without hesitation, determination on his face. The Great Fairy grinned at the confirmation, and leapt out of the water with a laugh and a twirl, soaking a few of the soldiers standing too close.

Then she snatched up the Captain, and dropped him into a bottle she pulled from thin air.

“Hey!” Mask shouted, but the Great Fairy waved a dismissive hand at him.

“It’s just until we’ve won,” she giggled, holding the bottle up so she could see the Captain better. He took a step back, eyes wide and uncertain. “Unless he’d like to stick around afterwards... but regardless, I need some help, and you’re just who I need.”

Her eyes glinted a bit.

“Let’s go, little hero. Show me how well you can swing that little sword of yours.”

The harsh laugh rang through the air again, and Time snapped back to the present as the Great Fairy gave the bottle in her hand a light shake.

Warriors looked ill.

“Let him go!” Wind shouted, tightly gripping his sword, but the Great Fairy only laughed again. “He’s not yours, let him out!”

“On the contrary little hero,” she smiled, unnatural and wide. “I caught him, so he’s mine. That’s how it works.”

“As a Great Fairy you should know that that’s not how it works,” Time said as he glared up at the corrupted fairy. “Release him.”

“No,” the fairy said plainly, and Warriors pressed his back to the glass as she held him up mere inches from her face. She smirked. “I haven’t had a toy this good-looking in a long time.”

Warriors lost what little color he had left, and Twilight chucked a boomerang at the fairy’s arm.

She flicked it out of the air with a tsk, the weapon clattering to the ground, and her gaze narrowed, the bit of red around her pupils seeming to grow.

“It’s not polite to attack your hostess.”

“Then release him!” Wild shouted, nocking an arrow and aiming it towards her. “None of us are staying with you, you creep!”

The Great Fairy looked at him, and sighed.

“Well then I suppose I have no choice.”

Dark magic glowed at her fingertips, and suddenly they were all scrambling for cover, most of them only dodging the burst of darkness she threw at them at the very last second.

“This must be the Shadow’s work,” Four wheezed as he ducked behind the same piece of stone Time had sheltered behind. “What else would be able to corrupt fairy magic like this?”

“It has his dirty fingerprints all over it,” Wild snarled from nearby, pulling out a stronger bow from his pouch.

“But how did he corrupt a great fairy?” Hyrule said in dismay, and Twilight yanked him out of the way of another harsh spray of dark magic.

“It doesn’t matter how he managed it, we need to get rid of it,” Time shouted over another harsh laugh. “And save Warriors.”

“How do we do that?!”

The Great fairy kept laughing, and the piece of wall they were hiding behind was suddenly destroyed, the Links scrambling away from the debris. The bottle was swung at them all as they scattered, and Warriors flew by in a blur of color.

Wild whirled around and shot off a round of arrows, several hitting their mark, but the corrupted fairy didn’t even seem to notice, still blasting magic and swinging her bottle.

Time ran forward with his blade raised, and the Great Fairy twirled out of his way. She laughed at his attempts to hit her, then slammed him backwards with the bottle she held.

Time managed to get his shield up, but he was still knocked to the ground, pain radiating up his arm where he’d taken the brunt of the hit.

He thought he heard a muffled cry from Warriors, but the bottle was swinging around too much for him to be sure. Wind covered him while he got to his feet, and Time joined the others as they tried to get close enough to the Great Fairy to actually fight her.

There was too much magic flying around though, dark bursts that made Time’s stomach roll when one exploded too close to him. Between the magic and the way the fairy swung the bottle Warriors was trapped in, nobody could get close enough to cause any real damage.

A larger ball of darkness formed in one of the Great Fairy’s hands, and everyone ran for cover again as more dark magic exploded through the room. Most of them ended up behind a larger chunk of stone, and Twilight slid down next to Time, Legend no longer on his back.

“This isn’t working,” Twilight growled, laughter ringing through the room. “Any suggestions?”

“I’d try the Master Sword, but I can’t get close enough,” Sky wheezed from nearby, his face worried and grim. “Her magic would doubtlessly help, but I don’t know how...”

“Oh! Light arrows!” Wind said with a gasp. He wiped some dust off his face, then began fishing in his pouch. “If it’s dark magic, then light arrows should help!”

“But will it hurt her?” Hyrule asked worriedly, and Time sighed.

“I don’t know, but we don’t really have a choice. Hopefully this will purify her. We can only hope for the best at this point, we don’t have the strength for a drawn-out battle.” He looked around at them all. “If anyone has long-range light magic or weapons, use it now.”

Warriors needs us.

Dark magic hit the stone they were sheltering behind, and the Links scattered again, several grabbing in their pouches.

Wind quickly took out his bow, and pulled back an arrow, the tip lighting up in gold. It grazed the fairy’s arm, and she shrieked, the sound so piercing Time and the others put their hands to their ears.

“It worked!”

“Keep it up!” Time shouted, getting his own bow out.

He shot a light arrow of his own at the Great Fairy, but she dodged, eyes flashing with anger.

“Insolent boys!” she screamed, blasting more magic outwards.

Her attacks came twice as fast as she avoided the light magic, but her aim was less precise in her anger. Time found himself dodging so much he only had time to shoot off a single light arrow before he had to move again to avoid all kinds of stray shots.

He caught sight of Legend tucked behind a piece of stone, still looking dizzy, but shooting some kind of light magic anyway. Hyrule was beside him also shooting arrows, and the Great Fairy grew more and more enraged, shooting magic and throwing her bottle around much more violently.

There was so much noise he couldn’t be sure, but Time could swear he heard Warriors cry out more than once, and his throat tightened with fear.

We need to get him out of there, now.

Time paused in his assault, slipping behind a piece of stone and waiting for the Great Fairy’s attention to be drawn to the other side of the room. Someone cried out, and Time ran forward and went to a knee as he carefully aimed.

He shot an arrow directly at the Great Fairy’s wrist, and as it pierced her flesh, Time felt some kind of magic snap, a protection he hadn’t realized was there.

The fairy shrieked as she clutched at her wrist, and the bottle with Warriors dropped from her grasp.

“Captain!”

Wind’s cry was cut off by the bottle shattering as it hit the ground, broken glass scattering like fallen stars across the dark stone. Time was already running, and he slid to his knees beside Warriors, heedless of the glass he was crouching in.

Blood ran down Warriors’ face from a cut on his temple, and he didn’t move when Time gave him a cautious shake. Dozens of cuts from the shattered glass trickled tiny lines of red across his skin, bruises already forming from his time in the bottle. Wind ran up seconds later, and the sailor’s face went pale as he looked at the captain.

“Warriors?!” he said frantically, but the captain didn’t react.

Time quickly checked Warriors’ breathing, relieved when he felt his chest going up and down. But his leg was at an odd angle, blood still weeping from various cuts all over him, and Time swallowed, taking in how truly battered Warriors was.

His mind fell back to the war again against his will, the Great Fairy fighting with the captain in her bottle. Some of the men had muffled laughs as she’d done some especially odd attacks, and Mask had snickered at a few of them as well, ignoring the flicker of unease that had still been bothering him. His laughter had died the moment the battle had ended though, and the Great Fairy had shaken the captain out of the bottle.

Link had barely been standing, and as soon as the Great Fairy had left he’d emptied his stomach into a bush. He was shaking so hard he could barely walk, and Mask had had to help him back to camp, supporting him as they walked.

But he couldn’t do anything to stop the shaking, couldn’t take away the look in his eyes.

The bruises and other injuries the captain had gotten from being knocked around in the bottle stayed with him for days, but the fear in his eyes had stuck with Time ever since.

That was the first time he’d realized that his big brother wasn’t as unshakable as he tried to appear.

Warriors groaned, and Time snapped back to the present, looking down as Warriors’ eyes flickered.

“Captain, can you hear me?” he asked urgently, placing his hand back on Warriors’ shoulder. He flinched at the touch, breath stuttering, and Time quickly removed his hand.

“Warriors?” Wind asked again, and Warriors opened his eyes a little more, looking dazed.

And scared.

“Link, we need to get you somewhere safe,” Time said, throwing his shield up to block a stray blast of darkness. And despite knowing the answer, he added, “Can you stand?”

Warriors breathed in shakily.

“I...” he croaked, voice barely a whisper. “N... dunno.”

He begin to faintly shiver, and Time breathed out, looking at the fight, then back to him. The other Links were doing their best to keep the Great Fairy’s attention away from the three of them, but he didn’t know how long it would last with how battered their group was.

They were all flagging.

“I’ll go help them,” Wind said, giving Warriors a fearful glance before looking back at the battle. “...Can you get him somewhere safe?”

“I will.”

Wind nodded and ran off, lighting up another light arrow to shoot as he rejoined the battle. Time turned his attention back to Warriors, and saw that his eyes had slid closed again, his expression tense as his breath softly wheezed.

“Captain. I’m going to help you up, we need to get you out of here,” Time said. Warriors didn’t reply, and Time carefully pulled him up, not entirely carrying him, but supporting almost all of his weight. Warriors stiffened at his touch, then began shivering harder. “It’ll only be for a moment, hold on.”

Time stood, keeping his shield at the ready as he began to get them as far away from the water as possible. The Great Fairy screeched in rage again as she was struck by another light arrow from Wind, and Time heard someone shout.

Twilight dodged his way over to Time and Warriors, blood smeared in his hair, and wordlessly covered them as they moved further away.

Warriors’s head hung forward, blood dripping from his face as his breath shuddered, and Time didn’t stop until they were safely behind the stonework, carefully lowering Warriors to the ground. He didn’t even know if the captain was awake any more, and Time’s heart pounded loudly in his ears.

“Warriors?” he asked, patting his cheek. “Hey, wake up.”

The captain twitched a little, and let out a full-body shudder as the Great Fairy yelled. His eyes stayed shut though, and Time knelt beside him, unsure of where to begin. They had no supplies apart from bandages, and he could only do so much with those.

“Captain,” he said in a cautious voice, but Warriors didn’t move. “Link, where are you most hurt?”

Warriors only gave a small shake of his head, faintly shivering. Twilight made his way over to them mere moments later, and he kneeled beside Warriors with a wide look in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Captain?”

Warriors swallowed again, and looked like he tried to raise his head, but couldn’t quite manage to, still shaking and bleeding. He choked on his next breath, and Twilight looked at Time as Warriors’ breathing picked up, rasping and trembling.

“Warriors,” Twilight said more gently, fingers twitching like he had to fight the urge to comfort him with touch. “It’s alright, the others are handling things.”

“We need to tend to your injuries,” Time added, pulling out the few bandages he had left. “Your head is bleeding quite a bit, as is the rest of you.”

Warriors swallowed thickly, and Time watched as he shook harder than the leaves on the Great Deku Tree did when the first spring winds blew in.

His mask had cracked, the one he easily slipped on in battle and stressful situations, hiding his true emotions behind it. Warriors was trying desperately to scrape it back together, but he’d been struck too hard this time. Being put in a bottle again had slashed open scars that had been hastily bandaged in the first place, and now there was no going back.

Not until the threat was gone, at least.

Warriors’s breath hitched, and Time looked at him, bloody and broken, flinching every time the Great Fairy made a sound. Time’s hand was resting near Warriors’s own, and Time reached out, gently twining his fingers with his brother’s.

“You’re safe, Link,” he said quietly, and when Warriors didn’t pull away, he put his other hand on top of his. “Me and Twilight are going to patch you up.”

We won’t let her touch you.

Warriors’s fingers shakily clutched back at Time’s, and Time nodded at him, pulling out his canteen to hopefully wash any glass out of his injuries. Twilight stayed close, his sword still held at the ready, and Time was already planning how to convince him to also be patched up as he cleaned Warriors’s cuts. He hadn’t missed the blood in his descendant’s hair.

Warriors pulled in a shaking breath as Time worked, swallowing as he wiped some blood from his face, fingers shaking. His eyes stayed closed, but Time knew he was awake with how he flinched and kept his face as neutral as possible. He didn’t really succeed in that regard, but he tried anyway.

His other hand stayed firmly in Time’s though, and even though it made his job harder, Time never let go.

Someone shouted nearby, much closer then before, and Time glanced up, frowning as the ground shook beneath them. He held tighter to Warriors, and then jumped as Twilight shouted in alarm.

Time whirled around, and saw a face that should have been beautiful leering mere feet away from them, eyes blazing.

Somehow the Great Fairy had gotten past the other heroes.

“You... are... MINE!” she screamed, voice somehow lyrical and ragged. She stretched a hand out, fingers like gnarled branches of an old, dead tree, and her eyes glinted with desire.

Warriors finally opened his eyes at her scream, and there was such an expression of terror on his face that Time felt something inside himself snap.

He clasped Warriors’s hand that was still in his, and drew on the strength of his gauntlets to bodily throw him out of the way, tossing him towards Twilight. He knew the rancher would catch him, and in the same movement, he grabbed his bow again, calling on the dregs of magic he had remaining.

With her initial target gone, the Great Fairy lunged for Time, dark magic swelling at her fingers. The shouts of the others rang in Time’s ears, but as he drew back a light arrow, he felt strangely calm, even as the sickly feeling of darkness began to reach him.

He was doing this for his big brother.

Time released the arrow at the same time the Great Fairy shot her magic, and the two met in the middle with a shear of pure energy.

It threw Time backwards, and as a scream louder than any of the others rang through the room, something else seemed to snap, thrumming in the very air around them.

Time painfully hit the ground, an oddly-colored smoke rising off of him, but he lurched to his feet anyway. There was an awful smell in his nose and mouth, and his head spun as he stumbled backwards.

Warriors.

Where was Warriors?

Time heard a muffled shout, and turned, lurching towards the smears of green and blue he could see nearby. His skin burned as he moved, muscles screaming as loud as the Great Fairy was, and Time dove forward and covered Warriors and Twilight’s heads.

All three of them closed their eyes against the wave of energy that suddenly rushed outward, rustling their hair and making Time flinch. It only made his body hurt more, but Time gritted his teeth and held on, covering as much of Warriors and Twilight as he possibly could.

Then it went deathly quiet.

Time felt his hands shaking as he waited a moment to be sure, then pulled back, gently releasing Warriors. He seemed no more worse for wear, and Time exhaled, relieved at the sight of both him and Twilight unhurt by the magic.

Twilight was staring at him with a wide-eyed look, but Time ignored it, and somehow got to a shaky knee so he could look around the room. He saw the other Links picking themselves up, wiping blood off injuries, helping others stand.

The water in the pool had stilled, and was now light and clear, faint sparkles drifting on the surface. The whole room seemed brighter now, less oppressively heavy, and Time could feel that the dark magic had been cleansed.

The Great Fairy was nowhere to be seen.

Wild let out a weary cheer from the other side of the room, then listed to the side, Wind barely catching him. They both toppled to the ground, giggling a bit hysterically, and Twilight faintly smiled when Time looked back at him. His descendant still looked worried, but he was just as relieved the fight was over.

Warriors stayed unmoving halfway on his lap, blood still trickling from his brow.

Time swallowed, feeling again every injury he himself had sustained, and he slid back to the floor, placing his hand over Warriors’s again.

His brother’s eyes flickered open, and Time gave him a small smile.

“She’s gone,” he rasped softly, and Warriors exhaled, the sound exhausted with relief. “We did it.”

“You mean you did it,” Twilight added, looking a little awestruck. “I don’t know how you threw the captain and then turned around and shot that arrow barely a second afterwards, but it was mighty impressive.”

“Practice,” Time said with a small smile that hurt to make, and helped Warriors sit up. Warriors held on a bit tighter for a minute, then let go, still trembling just a bit. Time studied him worriedly, but he was interrupted by Twilight fussing over his own wounds, pulling away with a hiss as he touched painful skin. The magic had burned him... more than a bit.

Everyone shuffled their way over to where Time and Twilight were, giving them and Warriors concerned looks. Everyone was at least as bad off as them though, and both Legend and Four were unconscious, so Time thought they were all being rather hypocritical.

A sudden chiming noise rang softly through the room, and the heroes all tensed as the water in the pool rippled. Time recognized it for what it meant, but he still watched in suspicion when a head rose slowly from the water, hair glimmering a soft pink.

Warriors stiffened beside him.

The great fairy’s eyes were clear and bright as she looked around at them all, though her face was lined with a deep sadness. The heroes watched her in silence, hands hovering near weapons, and she let out a heartbroken sigh.

“I’m terribly sorry dear heroes,” the she apologized in a whisper, keeping only her head poking out of the pool. “Such a great darkness fell over me... I was not myself. I see I have only made your situation more dire, and I cannot apologize enough.”

She closed her eyes, and the part of Time that was raised alongside the children of the forest grieved when he saw the shining tear that fell down her cheek.

“I owe you all a debt,” she whispered.

“Healing us might be nice,” Wild spoke up, and Twilight elbowed him.

The Great Fairy didn’t seem offended. “Of course, Hero of the Wilds. It is the least I can do.”

She lifted her hands out of the pool, and as water poured from between her fingers, it faded into gentle sparkles that drifted around the room. They floated around and settled across the hero’s injuries, sweeping them away with a touch like that of flower petals.

Hyrule leaned into them, looking grieved, but calm as the sparkles healed him. Legend watched them in silence when he awoke, as did Four and Twilight, and Wind had a thoughtful look on his face as they sealed a gash on his knee. Sky sighed in relief as they twirled up his broken arm, and Wild faintly smiled when the sparkles trickled up his side, healing whatever the cause of the blood all over his hip was.

Warriors tensed as they reached him, not moving an inch as the sparkles sank in around most of his body. Time kept his hand on his shoulder as they drifted past, and Wind slid up to his side as well, both of them watching as they grew thicker around the captain’s leg and forehead for a few moments. The tiny cuts on his skin were sealed, and the bruises faded until they could only barely be seen.

Time felt his own injuries get healed as well, a smell like honeysuckle and morning dew accompanying the light. They soothed the hurt in his chest from the magic recoil, healed the burns and eased the aches and pains he’d already had in addition.

He waved the sparkles away from his scarred eye once they finished, then turned to help Warriors stand, feeling much more relaxed.

The captain looked relaxed as well, oddly enough, though not as much as everyone else. He still watched the Great Fairy with suspicion, even though his trembling had stilled and his expression had settled back to usual.

And he stiffened again when the Great Fairy’s gaze landed on him once more.

She looked at him steadily, eyes shimmering with remorse, and bowed her head. “My deepest apologies, Hero of the Shattered Eras.”

Warriors nodded, and didn’t look her in the eye.

The Great Fairy waited a moment, as if she was hoping he would verbally respond, then turned her gaze away from him and swept it over the rest of the Links.

“Heroes across the ages, I again offer you my thanks for ridding me of the shadows,” she said, her gaze resting on Time as she spoke. “If you wish to remain here and rest, you are more than welcome to stay as long as you wish. The little wings should return with my release, and I’m sure some would be happy to accompany you.”

“Thank you,” Time said respectfully, and gave Warriors’s shoulder a squeeze. “But we should be moving on. I thank you for your gift of healing, and I’m glad we could be of service.”

The Great Fairy looked disappointed. But she nodded, and with one last grieved look at them all, slipped back into her pool, a few errant sparkles the only thing left behind.

Warriors drooped when it was evident she was truly gone, and Time wasn’t the only one who looked at him with worry. Nobody said anything about it out loud though, just stayed close, and told him they were glad he was okay. Wild thanked him profusely for pushing him out of the way, and Warriors waved him off with a painfully forced smile.

Wind merely leaned on his arm, and Warriors softly ruffled his hair, the sailor looking at him in relief.

They all turned to leave then, beyond ready to get away from the fountain. But a another soft chime caught their attention, making them look back.

A few sparkles were drifting on the edge of the pool, floating together into a vaguely cylindrical shape. The light swirled around, then flashed, before fading away to reveal a small, crystalline bottle, filled with a deep purple liquid.

Looking at it, Time felt oddly sad.

The Links all looked at the bottle with emotion varying from curiosity to suspicion, and Twilight was the one who finally stepped forward and knelt down to pick it up, his eyes going wide as he studied it closer.

“Great Fairy tears,” he said softly, lifting the bottle with great care.

“What do they do?” Four asked, and Twilight looked at the bottle in wonder.

“They heal any wound. And grant a brief blessing to whoever uses them, one that protects from any harm for a short while,” he said, and Legend whistled.

“I can think of some times that would’ve been handy.”

“No kidding,” Wild said with a small glance at Twilight.

“I suppose it’s another apology,” Sky said quietly, and Twilight hummed, about to place the bottle inside of his pack, then hesitated.

“...Do you want to carry it?” he asked, turning to Warriors. “I... have a feeling it was meant for you.”

Warriors shook his head, and looked away. “No. You can take it.”

Twilight didn’t press, and he nodded and gingerly put the bottle away. Everyone took that as the signal to begin making their way out of the restored fairy fountain, and one by one they stepped out into the sunshine.

Time squinted as the light reached his face, and he looked around at the forest they’d emerged into with wonder. It barely seemed like the same place they’d left earlier—it was like a spell had been broken, and life was returning to the plants and very earth around him. Time even heard a bird singing somewhere above their heads.

Everyone was looking around with content expressions, satisfied despite the tired way they held themselves. It was always good to see evil purged from the land. They’d done a good job today, rough as it had been.

Time looked behind him at where Warriors stood back from the others, still-damp hair shining in the rays of sunlight. Time wouldn’t have guessed anything had happened to him, except for the pallor of his skin, and the blood still staining his clothes.

Time moved closer and gently set an arm around his shoulders, light enough that the captain could pull back if he wished. He felt Warriors stiffen at the touch, but then he abruptly leaned into it, his eyes squeezing shut.

“You all right?” Time asked, soft enough to only be heard by Warriors.

“Yes,” Warriors whispered back, slowly breathing in, and then out. Time moved his arm from his shoulders, and turned to face him so he could see him better. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much use in the battle.”

Time felt a sharp prick of guilt, and swallowed. He could still see his brother’s terrified face, the franticness with which he slammed his hands against the bottle, the way he’d been unable to stop shaking after getting out.

How still he’d looked, surrounded by blood and shattered glass.

“It’s hardly your fault,” Time finally replied. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to free you sooner.”

“You did what you could. I didn’t even know those bottles could break, that was impressive,” Warriors admitted, his expression unreadable. “The light arrows were a good idea. Thank... thank you,” he said in an even softer voice. His shoulders gave one quick shudder, and Time hated how it made him feel. “For getting me out of there.”

Time swallowed, and leaned forward, lightly setting his head against Warriors’s. ”You would do the same, big brother.”

Warriors gave him a hint of a smile, and Time held him just a little closer as they leaned against each other.

They would still need to have a proper discussion of everything, figure out how the Shadow had corrupted a Great Fairy, try to make sure Warriors wouldn’t just brush over this incident like he tended to do. Warriors would doubtlessly try to avoid it, but... the discussion could wait.

For now... Time just wanted to enjoy standing here in the sunshine. The battle won, the danger past.

Warriors closed his eyes, and Time drew him into a proper hug, Warriors letting out a shaky sigh as he let himself be held.

His brother alive and safe beside him.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

It’s funny that I feel ashamed of posting this here, on a blog where I regularly reblog porn and stuff, but to be fair to me, putting anything out into the world to be judged by others is kind of terrifying.

Anyway, for those interested, here’s the Pudding Closure thing (18+). I wrote a while ago and never uploaded until yesterday. I originally was using it to try to get used to writing smut, but then I got emotional and it went a different direction… hope at least someone enjoys it anyway <3

[arandomferretsthoughts]

This popped into my brain and wouldnt leave so I wanted to share it with yall

—

A young boy and his parents are attacked on the street, only the boy makes it out.

It's a rare occurrence, an event like this, the police find the man and arrest him and everyone else is safe.

Bruce Wayne goes home to a mansion that feels larger and lonelier than ever, with only his butler to take care of him.

And yet the young boy finds himself too afraid to leave for more than necessities.

The young boy grows into a young man, he inherits his parents business and starts to leave his house a little more, unwilling to lose this connection to his lost parents but still he finds himself afraid, afraid to be around people, to be seen.

Until one day at a gala he must attend for the sake of the shareholders, he sees a man, a reporter, who holds himself in an odd way, clearly a tall and strong man who could be intimidating if he tried but the man held himself as if to appear smaller and unassuming, Bruce's brain flitters across the idea that the man is hiding something, or more hiding himself.

His brain that has soaked up comics and movies for years so as to not grow bored in his home.

And when he learns of all the good this reporter has been trying to do, he thinks the man would make a good superhero.

When he goes home the thought wont leave him alone, he thinks of a world with a hero, a world that needs a hero, one where his parents murder would have just been one of many, but this hero wouldn't have been there to help, he was too bright, a hero for the daytime, not for the shadows of night.

He thinks maybe he could have been a hero in this world, one that saves other kids from suffering a fate like his own.

One who is afraid and fights anyway.

The next time he leaves his home there's an event at a museum, with some special objects that are in town for a few days. There he sees a woman who knows so much about ancient relics and is so beautiful that he doesn't believe she could be just a normal human.

He thinks she would share her knowledge and kindness with the world given the chance.

While he remains mostly alone, other than his Parental figure/Butler, he also keeps in contact with two friends from when he was in school.

One is now a psychiatrist, with an interest in learning about fear and how it can change people, and the other a psychologist, both working at the city's asylum. 

Harleen is who Bruce considers his best friend, a goofy but kind girl who cares alot about others, she tells him about a patient, without going into much detail, who she claims would be cute if he wasn't so insane. Smiling and laughing while he talks about harming others. 

She got a boyfriend somewhere along the way, a man Bruce is sure abuses her but she can't seem to leave.

The three get in a fight one day, and lose contact, and Bruce supposes you can't have heroes without villains, though he can't bring himself to think of Harley as a villain by her own choice.

On the news Bruce learns of a man working to better science as they know it, a man who always seems to be a few minutes too late, he follows the story until the day something goes wrong and the man is there on time to shield workers from flying chemicals, killing him but saving others, Bruce thinks the man a hero in death, and could have been one in life, one who always made it to where he was needed just on time.

As time went on Bruce tried to get out more in normal ways, one night he went to the circus, he enjoyed it, reminding him of the day when he was little and his parents brought him to one just like it.

It was a few days later that he learned at the next show there was an accident, and a little boy lost his parents, he remembered being small and feeling alone when he had lost his, thankful for the man who cared for him he wished he could do the same for this little boy, but knew he didn't have the skills needed.

He could, however, make sure the boy got somewhere safe, and other kids like him too.

So he held a fundraiser and donated a lot of money into the foster system, doing what he could to make it safe.

And he thought of a world where he could have taken the little circus boy into his home, making it brighter and less lonely.

As he ventured out more and more Bruce travelled through different parts of the city, he saw a group of little children cowering behind one bigger who had just chased off a grown man, Bruce smiled as the kids cheered for the little hero.

It was the news that later told him the boy was dead, a homeless kid who stopped being seen, the little hero was gone.

Bruce held another fundraiser, this one for the homeless shelters and kitchens.

It was the news that told him the boy was not dead, found by the police, with other stolen children. 

Children that returned to a better place.

The day he lost his last parent is the day where he began to feel truly alone, the only person there for him gone, but Alfred would live forever in his memory's as the man who loved and cared for him.

He reached out to Harly again not wanting to be all alone, and they made up, he learned she had gotten free of her abusive boyfriend and had fallen for a woman who's love of nature was refreshing and new.

He knew little about his neighbours, but he tried to get to know them better, he struggled but eventually learned that the woman that lived there was very sick and that the man was not home much, when he learned of the child who spent so much of his time alone, he thought the kid was brave and told him if he ever needed anything to just ask.

The kid needed someone the day when his mother didn't wake up and his father wasn't home. Bruce did what he could, he was no father but he cared for the kid the best he could until his was able to return.

Bruce knew it was expected of him to have a family, someone to give his things and his business when he passed. He tried dating, but nothing ever seemed to work out.

However one day he learned of a child, a son, one the mother hadn't told him about, he tried to gain any sort of parental rights but couldn't get any custody, only visitation, he met the boy, a quiet but fiercely determined child, And he loved his son even without seeing him much.

When the quiet, hermit, billionaire Bruce Wayne, best known for appearing, donating large amounts of money to random causes and then disappearing again, passed away his belongings and company were to be split between two people, Timothy Drake, and Damian al Ghul, when the two met up to split his things, they found writings the man had never told anyone of.

Writings of a world where regular people became heroes, where aliens walked amongst humans, and where magic made lives exciting.

They agreed to publish the story's for the world to see.

To most people, the writings were just an entertaining fiction story that a billionaire wrote with his unlimited free time.

But to the retired reporter who knew his height frightened others, who now rested and found the stories learned that someone had seen how he stood, and what he had done and thought of him as a hero,

To the artefact collector and preserver who learned this man believed she was so knowledgeable about what she had strived to learn everything about, as well as beautiful, that he thought her to be blessed by the gods,

To the old psychologist who mourns her friend, a man who thought that no matter what she went through she'd always make the right choice in the end, 

To the family of a man who lost his life saving others, who this guy they had never met thought so highly of,

To the man that lost his only family to an accident at their circus, he was a man who wanted him get a good home, where'd he'd get anything he ever wanted, 

To a man that went through so much, believed dead for so long to learn this man who he had only seen once, saw him not as a poor homeless kid but as a fighter and protector,

To the boy that new the man for a short time, as a temporary guardian and protector, who made him feel safe and not alone when he needed it most, 

And To the boy who wished he could have known his father, but was kept away by his mother,

The storys showed to them all that this man, who some thought of as cold and egotistical, as he locked himself away and refused to be around others, was actually an anxious, lonely man, who saw what others didn't and cared about everyone in his own odd way.

—

I just thought it was a cool idea I wanted to share with yall, so I hope you guys like it

This is my first post on here, so please be nice,

Also, ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes Dyslexia goes brrr

If you want to know what I think he based the other heroes and character off of, just ask, and I'll figure it out!

Thanks for reading, and have a good day!

Edit:

Thanks for all the nice comments and reblogs :)

I genuinely didn't realize how sad this was, lol. Sorry, not sorry, guys

[paletigers]

are erisol sloppy makeouts allowed on tunglr

[gurggggleburgle]

I'm proud to say I don't think Luo Binghe would like to eat his boyfriends pussy. He'll do it but bitch he's not here for that. For 1 Binghe is absolutely the kind of guy who wants to see the whole body come undone not just have Shen Yuan tug on his hair. 2 the man's favorite places to kiss are things like forehead, hands, cheeks, he's a foreplay from the waist up man.

He'd fingerblast to next year granted but Shizun asks for a kiss and a downstairs buffet he says yes but in his head he's thinking about how much he just wants to massage and bite that man's shoulders/chest and touch every part of his skin till they're the same person. He needs to use his hands and teeth simultaneously and not doing so is bad for his health. Man can't dine on pussy alone. Shizun let me fingerblast you from the front while taking you from behind while I cradle you in my arms and scream how you love me!!!!! Shizun plssssssss!!!!

[cfffrk]

WW2 AU

PART 1

(+2scetches)

One September day, B. Wooster found out about Jeeves' disappearance from Aunt Dahlia's telegram.

Early summer of 1940. Bertram Wooster was completing his studies at an aviation school. At the same time his faithful valet, Jeeves, temporarily went to the service of the already mentioned relative at Brinkley Court and became the second jewel in the staff of servants besides the highly talented cook Anatole.

Due to the straitened financial situation of Uncle Tom, who complained more and more about the increasing taxes, the dearest aunt had to take forced measures and fire a few servants. She wanted to make a small sacrifice, and it might have been enough if one day her stingy husband had not cut the already small wages of the remaining servants. Many of them had applied for dismissal after that, and they were quite understandable.

This radical decision, although to a lesser extent, also affected Jeeves. Nevertheless, he continued to be a professional. He fulfilled his basic duties and often helped her, and her old friends get out of troubles.

Within a few months of Jeeves' work, they had become friends. Bertram almost felt like a third wheel in this idyll when he came to visit and boast of his achievements. Aunt Dahlia treasured her new valet and his unrivalled intelligence, and often jokingly promised in letters to her nephew that Jeeves would be returned safe and sound.

That was why she was seriously worried when Jeeves went missing. One clear day in early September, an elderly relative had let him go to London on his own business. In addition to this, it was Jeeves' duty to check on their good old Berkeley Mansions flat from time to time and keep it clean, so he planned to finish his business by evening and stay in the city overnight. He was supposed to return early the next morning. But that never happened. Not in two days. Not in three.

That night London was bombarded.

Something seemed to snap and collapse inside Bertie when he learnt that the search for Jeeves had been fruitless. Neither his relatives nor his club could shed any light on his mysterious disappearance.

The dark thoughts from which Bertram had fled during the day caught up with him at night. He would toss and turn on the hard bed, thinking of Jeeves's fate and replaying happy memories of their past, and in the daytime, tired and broken, he would give his duty to his country.

The whole situation seemed strange and unreal to him. The only thing that was found out for sure was that no one appeared in the apartment that miraculously survived the monstrous raids that day. It was dusty.

A couple of months had passed since the tragedy that divided Bertie's life into before and after. The war continued. He was learning to adjust to his new reality.

Sometimes he managed to carve out some free time and pop into London for a bit. The city where he had lived more than a third of his life was in ruins. The familiar places where he used to meet his friends and have a good time were empty.

Your humble servant avoided going into that very flat. There were too many vivid memories of that place, which painfully and mercilessly squeezed Bertram Wooster's poor skull. Indeed, the most precious person in his life had been living at his side all that time.

But still, as the sole and responsible owner of his property, he had to overpower himself. He had to go in and make sure that everything was all right. And one such day Bertie found himself there, in their former cozy home.

He walked in and looked around the living room: a layer of dust covering almost everything, furniture wrapped in covers, and only a few of his own things that he had left or forgotten here. The piano was covered with a cloth. Unbearably quiet and lifeless. There was nobody else to keep order here, nobody else's hand to create the home comfort. Sorrowful feelings pressed upon his chest.

He looked all over the flat. Almost all of it. There was only one room left to check.

After a moment's hesitation, Bertram pulled himself together and went into Jeeves's room. He had only glimpsed it from inside before. It was modest and not as spacious as his bedroom. Wooster sat down on the perfectly made bed, looking at what little was left of his dear friend, guide, and philosopher. His eyes rested on the various books dusting the shelves and cupboards.

He recognized one of them. It was the volume of Spinoza's writings he had given Jeeves for his birthday. No doubt Jeeves had read it all. As the rest of the books in the room. Bertie remembered his politely grateful smile and how he had clearly decided that this fellow deserved a whole library of those Spinozas.

He got out of bed. The code of the Woosters did not allow him to touch other people's things (even if those things belonged to a man who might never come back into his life), but something outweighed the young master's unwavering principles that day.

He didn't even notice how he left the flat with the book in his hands.

Of course, this sort of talisman invariably occupied a place in his suitcase. Though he had endeavored to handle the book with care, it had become tattered with the passage of time. Bertram often held it in his hands, flicked through the pages, ran his eyes over the neat pencil notes of its former owner. It calmed him a little in the most difficult moments of his pilot practice. He didn't understand anything about philosophy, but he treasured this book too damn much.

When they reunited, they were about a year away from the end of the war. The house with their previous flat was in a state of emergency damaged by the recent bombing raids, so Jeeves looked for a new flat for them while his employer was still undergoing treatment.

It happened some time later after their move-in. Jeeves was doing his household chores while the young master followed him around and chattered about anything that came into his head. It would have annoyed anyone, but not Jeeves.

You see, he had been abroad for a long time. However, he was not on holiday. Against his will, he was assigned important tasks and missions which he had to fulfil if he did not want to lose his freedom, his successful career, his reputation, his family, and friends. The special promise of making one particular person's life unbearable also left him no choice.

Every day, Jeeves felt like he was sitting on a powder keg: at any moment, a surprise inspection could come through the doors of his headquarters. A highly undesirable event for a man who kept fake documents, weapons, and encrypted data transmission devices in his flat. But all possible escape routes had been carefully worked out and memorized: Jeeves was always prudent. Otherwise, he had to have time to take a special pill before he found himself tied to a chair in a small interrogation room.

Keeping his charm and politeness, he was effective in getting the right information from the right people. His knowledge of psychology and accumulated experience of working with people helped him in this.

Jeeves' missions were rarely close to failure. His life depended on it.

The slightest mistake could have been fatal to him. Of course, he had learned much about the country during his training to pass for a typical Frenchman. His French had been practically flawless even before, which only made his life easier. But still somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that he would be exposed for the smallest inaccuracy.

Jeeves lived under a false identity with a fake life story. He changed outwardly and inwardly. His gait, the way he spoke, his body language, his facial expressions. He had complete control over his body. Especially his gaze, which could tell a lot about his thoughts. It was exhausting.

After a long time of living in this way, he began to have trouble sleeping: he slept very little and sensitively or could not fall asleep at all.

He rarely had any dreams during the restless hours when he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes he had nightmares. But they were not about him. They were about Mr Wooster. Same scenario: church, flowers, closed coffin. Then it would slowly open from the inside. And Jeeves would wake up in a cold sweat.

On sleepless nights, he was also tormented by thoughts of his former employer. Where was he now? Was he all right? Was he even alive? How did he feel about his disappearance? Would he want to see him again...?

Jeeves felt his mind, which he relied on in the most critical situations, begin to fail.

Meeting his employer again and doing the household chores for him, he felt himself slowly getting his head in order. He was enjoying the much-anticipated company of Mr Wooster. It soothed him and made him feel at home.

Jeeves opened the closet to put the ironed clothes in it. The young master standing next to him had been lost in the chatter and missed the moment when he should have pulled him back. In the next moment Jeeves had pulled the ruined book out of the wardrobe the same way as he pulled out foreign clothes. By the title of the book, he thought at first that his master was interested in serious literature. But on closer look and leafing through the book, he realized that it was his own.

Bertie watched it silently with his eye wide open. He couldn't just get rid of it, but at the same time he was ashamed to return a book in such a terrible condition to its owner. He planned to buy the exact same one soon, but until then, this volume of essays would be safely hidden away. But here his innocent secret was revealed. Jeeves looked at him with a silent question in his eyes.

He tried to justify himself, but this particular Wooster was a bad liar. Especially when the pent-up feelings were starting to overwhelm him. Jeeves often let his employer fool him about little things, but they both knew very well that it was actually impossible to do this. A couple of precise laconic remarks and B. Wooster found himself disarmed. He took a breath of air and began to speak.

Jeeves listened patiently to his poor master with a mask of calmness pulled over his face and dared not interrupt.

He was sorry. He was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Mr Wooster and his dear people by his forced departure. However, Jeeves spoke little and reluctantly about what he had been doing in recent years and did not tell anyone about the very reasons for his disappearance. This information could have caused a lot of trouble.

And Bertram realized it. His Jeeves could not just disappear for no reason, he was sure of it. But sometimes, in the deep sleepless night, a wild guess would cross his weary mind. What if Jeeves had run away, had simply abandoned him? Of course, Bertie had scolded himself for such thoughts in the mornings then. And today when Jeeves prepares breakfast for him, reminds him to take his medicine, and helps him to dress, that idea seems to him on the verge of sanity. But then he was quite capable of finding irrefutable evidence in all sorts of little things. At that time, he did not know what to think: the search for the injured had ended, Jeeves remained on the list of missing persons.

Bertram stood before him and could find no more words. But words were no longer needed. Jeeves looked at him with bright, penetrating eyes and the silence that settled in the room was filled with peace. Jeeves was truly touched. He felt a huge boulder fall from his soul.

It seemed now, as his employer lowered his head dejectedly and hid his wet eyes from him, they had the perfect moment to dot the «i».

It's been a long day.

Of course, this book stayed in their new flat and became a symbol of something important for them. Bertram, Jeeves' poor love, had indeed taken desperate measures then.

However, Jeeves pointed out that such measures would no longer be necessary.

For now, he would be there for him. He came back.

[unfinishedslurs]

prank gone wrong (viral!) (steddie)

Eddie’s been someone’s dirty little secret before.

He’s got a type, okay? Unfortunately hot jocks are often the type of asshole to get sucked off behind the bleacher and then turn around and spit in his face about it. Going right back to their friends to talk shit about what a freak Eddie is, never mind the fact that his mouth still tastes like their nasty fucking jizz. He’s used to it by now. Used to people who pretend they barely know each other. He’s not asking they parade their relationship for the whole town to see, just someone who doesn’t pretend they’re strangers. Is that too much to ask? 

He’s so fucking stupid. He really thought this time would be different.

Steve Harrington barreled into his life like a goddamn train and Eddie’s been derailed ever since.

The first time he met Steve he was six. Eddie still lived with his mom, and she took him to the park, where he met a little boy who wrinkled his nose and told him he smelled bad. Steve does not remember this, and turned red with mortification the first time Eddie told him

After that incredible hit to baby Eddie’s self-esteem, they didn’t interact much, existing on the periphery of each others lives. He figured it didn’t matter. Harrington was a year under him, and a douche besides. Was ready to leave town from the moment he learned to walk. As soon as he graduated, he could finally get the hell out of this place and never think about the assholes he went to school with again.

His mom leaves. His dad gets arrested. He moves in with his Uncle Wayne, who only has one bedroom in his trailer and won’t take no for an answer when he gives it to Eddie. 

Eddie doesn’t graduate.

(Harrington comes back to school different after Byers beats him up. Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s got bigger things to worry about.)

They don’t talk in Eddie’s second run of senior year either. He hears the gossip, sees him come to school with stitches in his forehead and no girlfriend. Still, it’s none of his damn business. He rolls his eyes at the rumors and stays far away from Billy Hargrove.

Steve Harrington graduates. Eddie doesn’t.

And this is where his careful distance falls apart.

It’s the mall’s fault of course. What isn’t? Businesses closing down, rent going up, his resolve crumbling. All over some fucking ice cream. God, Eddie should have just turned around. Left the store and the mall and the entire damn town behind. 

He’s aware he’s being melodramatic, but in his defense he’s queer in Indiana. He has a right to be. 

Anyways, the point is that Eddie saw Harrington’s little blue shorts and red lips and cannot be held responsible for what happened after. 

(They fucked. That’s what happened. They fucked, and kept fucking, and then after the mall burned down Steve showed up on his doorstep with suspiciously placed bruises and his coworker and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes. He didn’t even bring Robin home to her parents like a sensible person, just insisted on having her there because they were a package deal now and couldn’t be separated. Like puppies, Robin said when he looked at her. Last he checked, she wanted to bite Steve’s head off, and now they were attached at the hip?

He got used to it quickly. He had to. She comes on half their dates. Steve’s lucky he’s so cute.)

Now, nearly five months after Steve served him ice cream for the first time, he feels his heart shatter in the Hawkins High parking lot. 

“Harrington,” Dustin shouts, and it carries across the empty lot. Steve’s head jerks up and he waves, Robin standing beside him. “Steve, c’mere!”

Steve tilts his head. “What?”

“Come. Here.” Dustin repeats, enunciating clearly. Mike and Lucas look at him like he’s insane. So do Gareth, Jeff, and Chuck. 

Steve, who is standing a mere 20 feet away, turns to Robin and says something that makes her snort. Eddie can practically hear his bitchy murmur. 

“Is that Harrington’s girlfriend?” He hears Gareth ask. He has to swallow his laughter. 

“Yes,” Dustin says.

“No,” Mike corrects. 

“He won’t admit anything, but he always has a bunch of hickies and stuff after hanging out with her,” Lucas clarifies, because half the time when Steve says he’s hanging out with Robin he's actually with Eddie. The fact that Robin is usually still there is irrelevant. Marking up his boyfriend is one of his favorite pastimes. He refuses to let his boyfriend’s “soulmate” get in the way just because she refuses to sleep in one of the Harrington’s fancy guest rooms like a normal person unless he kicks her out. The way they both pout at him for it is fucking ridiculous. He ends up giving in half the time, and then lies awake and cold on the very edge of the bed because Robin starfishes her way across the rest and Steve is a blanket hog. 

The first time he tried giving Steve a hickey as some kind of dominance move for privacy, Robin stared him dead in the eye and didn’t back down. 

“I can do that too,” she said, and promptly bit Steve on the shoulder. Steve, who was shirtless and already slightly dazed from Eddie’s ministrations, let out an honest to God squeak. Like a dog toy. Eddie and Robin both stared at him before breaking into loud cackles that had a blushing Steve yelling at them before finally burrowing under the covers and refusing to come out. Needless to say, Eddie didn’t get laid that night. 

“Harring-ton,” Dustin whines. 

“I’m literally right here. You come here.”

He did, if only to grab Steve by the wrist and drag him to where everyone else was standing. Steve squawks. “When we’re late for dinner with Ma, I’m telling her it was your fault—“

“I want you to meet everyone!”

“I went to school with them!”

“Yeah, but they think you’re still a dick,” he says, as if they’re not standing right there. Steve is similarly engrossed in their conversation, not even noticing that Dustin’s stopped walking. 

“They can think whatever—“ he walks right into Eddie and lets out a startled oof. Eddie, who let it happen, catches him as he flails. 

“Well hello to you too,” he says, not bothering to hide his amusement. 

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, gaze dropping down to his lips before whirling around and snapping, “Henderson!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucas mimics under his breath, ducking behind Steve when Dustin turns around with the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes. 

He just stands there, hands on his hips as the kids bicker around him. 

“Oh, so now we can talk?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, brow furrowed like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, a sharp sound that makes Steve jump. “What do you think it means, Harrington? You never want to talk to me in front of the kids! Don’t want to dirty your hands with the Freak in public, I guess.”

“I…what are you talking about?”

[no talkie henderosn]

“What?” His eyes get wide, panicked, as he reaches for Eddie. “Eddie, that’s not—you have to know that’s not what I meant by that. I never meant it like that!”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Steve mumbles something he can’t make out. 

“Speak up, sweetheart.” It comes out mean, he knows it does, but he’s feeling a little mean right now. Lashing out like a wounded animal just because his boyfriend didn’t want to talk to him in public. 

Actually, when he puts it that way, he remembers he’s justified. 

Steve says something again, still incomprehensible. Eddie rolls his eyes. “If you can’t stop mumbling, I’ll just leave.”

That does the trick. “I thought we were playing a prank on Henderson together!” 

Eddie gapes at him. “What?”

“I thought,” he repeats, running an anxious hand through his hair, “we were pretending not to know each other to mess with the kid. Eddie, baby, you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were hurting. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I…” This can’t be real. He’s been agonizing for months, and for what? A prank? Just some stupid, shitty prank Steve thought he was in on? He’s going to jump off the quarry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have had so much fun with that!”

“I thought you knew!”

“How would I have known? I can’t read your mind!”

“You can sometimes,” he says, pouting. Eddie wishes they weren’t in the middle of an argument, he wants to kiss those lips so bad. 

He groans into his hands. “It’s significantly easier to tell when your boyfriend wants to fuck than it is to read ‘Hey, let’s play a prank on this twelve year old,’ on someone’s face, sweetheart.”

“I guess,” Steve huffs. Then his face softens. Eddie lets himself be drawn in by the wrist, helpless in the face of his sweet smile. “We can stop,” he promises, swaying in close enough for his breath to ghost across Eddie’s lips. “We could walk into Hellfire tomorrow holding hands, if you wanted to. Anything you want, just say the word.”

“How would we walk into Hellfire? It’s at your house.”

Steve pinches him for that. 

[quibbs126]

So does Cybertron have weather patterns? Like, precipitation and stuff?

Because something my brain thought up, the TF One quartet’s never been to the surface before the movie and know almost nothing about it. So like, when Megatron leaves with the Elite Guard, he’s the one guy in the group who doesn’t know how the surface works

Basically my thought process leads to Megatron freaking out when rain/a storm happens on the surface because he’s literally never seen it or knows of the concept, with the Elite Guard dealing with it as they remember he doesn’t know about these things despite it being pretty normal to them

I don’t know, it could make either a cute one-shot fic or a funny comic of Megatron not understanding rain