#Powdered Wisp Remains

[fogaminghub]

🚀 Ready to level up your collection in 2025? Join the adventure to collect the Stonewisp of Truth and Law, the new morphing collectible dedicated to Julianos! Embrace the wisdom and logic of the Divine while gathering fragments throughout the year. 

✨ Read our detailed guide on how to complete this collectible and join the fun! 

[rapturously]

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

��M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

[heartfullofleeches]

I see alien and conspiracy theorist reader who is also hilariously oblivious/ refuses to believe the fact Alien is an alien. Like they're too OBVIOUS about it and it doesn't line up with their theories about what the ACTUAL aliens walking among us are like. Like, it can't be Alien, they don't have crab claws or a lizard tongue or anything. They don't even have a tail rendered invisible by hologram, but Alien doesn't mind when reader grabs their ass to check.

This is exactly where I was going with that-

Alien wouldn't even be in reader's radar for potential suspects. Their frequent insistence they're just a regular human guy is a little suspicious, but no real alien would walk around wearing a mask like his because it'd just draw unwanted attention to them. Writes off their glowy bones as paint. The fact they're more flexible than rubber is just a genetics thing.

Alien thinks it's nice to have some recognize them as human at first - but eventually they start to think how hot cool it would be to be the extraterrestrial reader scraps to a table in their study and grills for hours about their anatomy and the place they originate from.

-

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yea, gimme a sec."

Fiddling with the gate to the laboratory, your assistant turns their back to you as they retrieve a small vial from their pocket. Alien pushes the gum they'd been chewing against the wall of their mouth, gathering the saliva collected from their glands on their tongue and filling the bottle with the blackish substance. They grab a bag of white powder from another pocket and dumps it into the small opening. The concoction bubbles, fumes crawling along the cylinders walls as they face you once more. They push you behind them - sealing your body with theirs as they raise their fist.

Hurling the vial, its glass shatters on impact in an explosion of black sludge and white smoke. The slime eats away at padlock holding the gate closed and enough of the wall for you to poke your head through before Alien finally kicks what remains open. They stand off to the side, bowing as they extend their arm forward.

"After you."

Your eyes linger on the smoke wisping into the air. "What... was that?"

"My spit. Mix it with baking soda it becomes corrosive..... or was it acidic?"

"...Right. Well, let's get this over with before anyone arrives. We're lucky this was all this place really has in terms of security." You ease past Alien who skips behind you as you march towards laboratory's doors. Not wasting what little time you have, you pull off your backpack as you walk - removing the test tube brought with you from its protective sleeve. Alien eyes the teal tinted fluid sloshing around in the container curiously - a strange sense of unease hitting their stomach like a brick.

"So.... if I'm allow to ask questions - what uh... what are we doing here again?"

You hold the vial up for then to see - contents fluorescent in the moon light. "I found this strange substance on a tee shirt I left in my bathroom. It's oddly sweet, but left my mouth with a tingle sensation after I tasted it."

Beads of sweat roll from their neck down their shirt. "You... tasted it?"

Alien thinks for a while. They had broken into your house while you were away. They found your shirt in your bathroom. It smelled just like you. Kinda tasted like you too. They thought they cleaned up everything after they were done. They did not.

"Well I had to make sure it wasn't something I ate. This is clearly a sign. Once I get my hands on the microscopes in this lab I'll finally have concrete proof of aliens!"

Alien snatches the vial from you and throws it into the tree-lining. "On second thought let's just go hunting for aliens like normal people."

"What the hell-"

Alien tightly grips your shoulders. "You can have another taste once we're official, but you are not putting my fluids under any lenses until we are engaged!"

[yohohonabottle]

| The "Damoiseau" - Project "Harbringer" I

Sorry for 2nd P.O.V. It's through the eyes of an employee that worked on this experiment with the other Quicksand Claw and Adamant Syndicates. ..Or could be a different person, stumbling onto the aftermath..

Soren's voice is...somehow mellowed out, still a countertenor or mild baritone but it sounds.... calm. Maybe even jovial, if you focus reaaally close on his tone, which is gentle and soft, mesmerizingly so. But so.... just something's off. Not right. ..Maybe the pitch? Or timbre? Cadence? A tiny flickering touch of.. feminine? No, that's not it either. It's a little hard to pinpoint what is it exactly. But this is just too calm, even for him, for his 'silent fury' as his title speaks.

The song is, hypnotizing, ever so very subtly beginning to almost..loose this unnerving calm. It draws, beckons ever closer, promises no more pain. Rest. A lullaby...

And then you get closer, drawn in by the song.. To see Soren,

sat on a rock or piece of camp debris with a very soft, gentle smile of sere tranquility and subtle playfulness like his song, his tone. Maybe even leaning, hunched over as if protecting something.

With a head cleanly cut off of a goon-- Could be a Quicksand claw, a syndicate, a researcher of the low-hanging small fry or the instigators that were in charge of the operation to begin with...held, cradled in his hands, eyes closed. Not the rage, fire, aggression you'd expect to see from him, knowing the bear and his fighting styles. How loud and brash, and short-fused he is, how....nimble, restless he is, always moving--Like how the young Mauler did moments prior to the ritual, pacing in his cage and kicking at the bars. Trying to break the door down, yelling and rattling, looking for a way out.

And he doesn't seem bothered by your presence. No. It's like he knew you'd come, stumble upon him and the signs of destruction.

Desolation, decimation he has brought to this camp all on his own. There's simply no other explanation for all of this, this... Silence. Stillness, not a soul in sight and the camp in shreds, smithereens yet somehow paradoxically untouched with nothing a miss, smashed and broken, ripped or out of place. .....It's like a plague has swept through, over the whole campsite like a powder cloud, avalanche. What happened to those caught up in it is, unknown. As though those people simply disappeared, no sign of them or struggle and combat, no traces. Where are they?

The teenager only keeps singing that lullaby.... Peaceful. Completely peaceful.

....Wait a second, is that.. a spine? A.. thorn? Multiple thorns? Or spears?? Amber...? Or is it fire-like ice? Crystallized, frozen blood? And in them.. silhouettes? Bodies? People trapped inside, frozen? -Or is it just imagination? Fatigue? Are those, small swords around behind his back, a ring...of spines? Their tips point outward- Will- o- the wisps? And did they just glitch?? Turn to ones of blood just now with this 'shutter'??? What are these ever so thin, near invisible threads??! ...Like the threads and sewing needle..

They're gone.

Were they even there at all to begin with.....?

And if he's asleep.. then why does it feel like a thousand glaring eyes gaze at you without blinking, from all sides? The sides, the top, below.... What's with that smile? Why's the Mauler smiling like this-?

Is that white...streaks in his hair, his fur? Did he just flicker--Distort--Glitch??!

The lullaby remains sweetly soothing, not the smallest waver.

But the scrutiny, the judgement doesn't go away. Nor do the chills seeping deep beneath skin and sinew, and bones.

Soren remains as he is, where he is....... The cold is so deep, it burns, beyond teeth-chattering.

Deciding, evaluating... Something.

"You won't live."

What...? It's not even a threat or warning. It's acknowledgement, unfretted.

A simple statement, in that same voice.

The glares, the eyes don't go away, they press down from all around like a cage, and something's taking hold of your limbs, slinking up like a vine-- Fast. He's gone- He's gone- Where did he go-Where's he- A flash, a blink-

-two russet-brown eyes with slitted pupils alight in red glow bore into yours, the smile in them clearer than day, curious shamelessly so as if child-like yet obviously know what he's doing. Flecks of black, light auburn, molten silver in them that shouldn't be, a glitch, nor should they be full red..so dark, that it's like staring into pools of spilt blood. So dark, that they're near black as night, pupils impossible to distinguish, but you know stare at you.

The same serene tone, same calm smile. Not a waver. The words of comfort, consolation a knell.

The song echoes still, but Soren's no longer humming nor singing it aloud...

..It's like someone else hums, sings in his stead, yet the voice and tone is all the same..

"You won't suffer, anymore."

Don't be afraid, It's okay.

It won't hurt.

It's been so long..hasn't it...? The last time you've felt truly at ease, at peace, safe, alive-- free. No burdens, no pains, no fears nor worries, no expectations and pressures...

You've earned it,

Rest.

The project 'Damoiseau', is a success, the two woven together into one. The soul-extraction and binding, infusion complete. Where Soren ends, and where that spirit begins---merged into one mind, one heart, one body, one consciousness....

And, with time, the stitched -sown together conjoined 'twins', will finish melting and molding into one singular.

Total

whole.

The camp slumbers in silence, not a soul in sight.

The price has been paid in full. The transgression accounted for. All parties involved have attained what they've sought.

[pocketvenuslux]

I've been meaning to try the Torontonian house, Universal Flowering, for some time. Particularly as they've collaborated with Toronto's indie lingerie brand, bully boy. I picked up a couple samples that seemed in line with my tastes, Death of a Ladies Man, a Leonard Cohen reference, and Daddy, which could be a Sylvia Plath one.

Death of a Ladies Man - this is usually described as a green fragrance but it is also very much a powdery floral. It is true that it opens as a fresh green, a gentle snap of bitter galbanum and earth. But it's a deceptive beginning. On my skin, the initial green edges quickly give way to a much softer scent, one replete with soapy sweet violets and a superfine powder. Any green notes have been reduced to the suggestion of a shadow. In its final stages, the powder itself fades, leaving one with an abstract floral with tinges of green. It's a unusual scent, likely too soft for green lovers and as such, if I had to choose, I'd file it under floral.

Daddy - this fragrance is not nearly as butch as the name might suggest. There's a suggestion of stubble with its peppery opening but like DOALM, there's already a softness to it from the beginning. Despite a main body of clean, dry woods and wisps of acrid smoke, purring beneath is a creamier, plusher "mushroom" and benzoin. Oddly enough, Daddy was launched in the same year as Comme des Garcon's Black Pepper (2016) which is basically the exact same concept. It's been a long time since I smelled the latter; I want to say Daddy is creamier, dirtier and a little longer lasting.

Overall, these two scents were interesting, but also a little flat. I'm not sure why some houses lose their heft on my skin. All the Le Labos collapse on me as well. It's unfortunate, but as I've only tried two scents, I'll remain open to trying other samples.

[razzamachazz]

( * ) owed inbox / starter :  based off this prompt list / Striker had known, at some point or another, he’d get fed up. and this was that moment. nothing is stopping him from literally breaking the fucker’s jaw, claws itching to do so, actually. he doesn’t even remember necessarily what Chaz had said to set him off this much — they were literally in the middle of running away from enemies because of Chaz’s numerous fuck ups. and what did he do to take accountability? what does the idiot do to, at the very least, fix his own shit? the motherfucker makes a joke and laughs while running. 

that was it; that was the moment Striker lost his shit, and thoughts began racing into his mind. with newfound vigor, after rounding the corner, he drags Chaz by the cuff of his wrist ( after much consideration and ultimately not tripping him so that he was immediately killed by the others ) and, almost like one would with a child, essentially haul him over, making sure to slam the shark’s body with intent against the brick wall. the increasing laughter, as if they’re good friends out on a fun adventure. he’d had it with this moron! “are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses out, almost all intention to remain discreet lost. his forearm is slammed against Chaz’s throat with intention to abruptly cut off his breath and, for once, get him to shut up. to get him to understand the gravity of the situation, of who he’s been trying to fuck around with. “The fuck was that shit back there? Ya nearly had us killed, and think it’s funny?! i shoulda left you to get dismembered by those fucks - i can’t keep cleaning up your mess. frankly, i think i oughta kill you right now!” in a flawless movement with his free hand, he grabs his trusted dagger, digging it just ever so on Chaz’s cheek. any small movement would have the steel cut right through the skin. Crimson be damned, he couldn’t take this piece of shit. he leans it just a bit closer, wanting to see the last few moments of his victim’s eyes before they go lifeless ( that’s his favorite part ) and wanting to make sure Chaz knows he means business, “I’m going to give you five seconds,” which was already longer than he’d given most, “to say what you have to say before i cut your throat open.” just to make things fun, knowing the instructions he just provided, he digs his forearm even deeper into Chaz’s throat, making sure he wouldn’t talk without wheezing.

They were tracking down targets, as per usual, but Striker never shared with him the full extent of the plan—if there ever was one. The hitman had a nasty habit of treating Chaz like he was an inept twit unable to tie his own shoes. The shark learned to ignore it. Just like he ignored Striker’s piss-poor reading comprehension so not to damage his companion’s ego, even though he never returned the favor over Chaz’s shortcomings.

He set out on their mission with powder around his nostrils, pregamed for focus and creative stimulation. It also put him in a good fucking mood. Might be that it made him err on the side of clumsiness too because his literal slip-up and stumble gave away their position. Striker seemed unappreciative of the jokes cracked in attempt to ease the tension during their retreat. By the time they rounded the corner, Chaz was brimming with nervous laughter and giddy excitement. He found the chase invigorating and good for the circulation. 

The world spun when Striker grabbed him, and then all the air dispersed out from his lungs as his back collided against a sturdy brick wall. It made him a little lightheaded but the joviality was still there. Striker’s physical aggression and assertive handling wasn't a surprise. It hardly bothered Chaz anymore. But his broad grin faded to a wisp as he was forced into labored breathing. His arms remained down by his sides, allowing Striker to blow off steam by abusing his windpipe. 

“It was kinda funny,” he rasped out a small strangled laugh. Brows furrowed when he caught sight of glinting metal. With the dagger on him, his humor ceased. His expression turned somber, filled with concern and worry, though Striker might mistake it as another form of fear. Only now did he realized just how far he pushed the cowboy on this one. Striker was always angry—always venting out threats that weren't acted on so Chaz developed a blind trust in his buddy. He wouldn't go overboard in his rage. So when Chaz felt the need to apologize, it wasn't to save his own hide. He felt he needed to apologize because he didn't want to lose those ever-so-rare scraps of comradery the two shared. He wanted Striker to like him. 

Chaz was getting ready to speak but the hybrid cut him off by making him choke. Hands raised out of reflex but stopped short of prying Striker’s arm away. They were held up, palms pointed forward, as a sign of surrender. The shark had him beat in size and strength. He could shove him off if he wanted to.. but he didn't.. because he trusted. “Knock it off already,” he wheezed, “We’re friends, aren't we?”

That made Striker pause. Perplexed him enough to lower the dagger... He snapped out of the trance seconds later and returned to full fury. Steel sank through the shark’s torso, right down to the hilt. There was no anguished scream as Striker may have expected. Only a strained grunt and a wet sound of splitting flesh. The noise echoed louder as the blade was slowly drawn out, spilling blood onto the dirt. Chaz’s fingers were drawn to the wound, soaking them in the liquid—as though further confirmation was needed for him to grasp the reality of the situation.

He stared down at his blood-slicked hand with eyes wide, filled with disbelief and a tinge of sorrow. “Why..?” His gaze redirected towards Striker, who also aired confusion. It wasn't a normal response to a stabbing and it left the hitman’s sadistic appetite dolefully unsatisfied. Chaz tried again to find his voice. “Why would you do that?” The words came out flat—death almost—as he was forced to come to terms with a harsh but undeniable truth. His hopes had been irrational. His starvation for friendship led to unreasonable expectations from a man forced to be his colleague. Outside of business, their partnership had always been empty. Meaningless.

Chaz let his lids fall shut while he took a deep breath, sobering himself up by disaffiliating from his thoughts. It wasn't like they were long-time lovers. He could amputate his sentimentality towards Striker like a gangrenous limb and shut himself off if need be. It would be for the best. What his companion would have wanted—to be left alone and unbothered. When Chaz opened his eyes again, his face was void of emotion. Fatigue was setting in, eating down to his bones. “I'll take it more seriously next time,” his tone sounded detached as he stared dead-eyed at the hybrid. A complete personality flip. "It won't happen again."

[abominationvault]

Session 37: Sat 1 Jun, 2024

Where were we? Ah yes, our tank and healer couldn’t be arsed so it’s the rest of us versus a will o wisp, and Skabb (full of leeches) has gone down. She hands control of Hartvig back to his usual pilot, explaining that he is ‘level 1 dusty’. He is annoyed to find all his spells left open. “I have to scroll so far now!”

The will o wisp is invisible. Jorg’ath roll initiative and joins in, rushing in to the outer room and standing briefly on Sprocket. He can get all the way in to the room and jam a potion into Skabb’s mouth - or does he have enough actions? He does! Minor Healing Potion, 1d8, 4hp back. She is now Wounded 1, and it’s her turn.

“Um…?” If it’s immune to most magic, will Detect Magic do much to find it? It will only ping if it’s nearby. She joins her friend the Scaredy Cat Luna behind her chair. (Luna apologises for not being heroic, it’s just she has no idea what’s going on.) Skabb uses her remaining actions to prepare her Magic Missile wand, if she can either see or otherwise sense where it is.

It’s Luna’s turn. She searches her pockets for talcum powder but comes up empty. Would Holy Water do anything? Yeah, nah. It’s an aberration, not undead. She gives Skabb a potion with her last action.

Nadia runs into the room and presses against a wall, ready for next round as there’s not much else she can do, there being nothing to attack.

Sprocket wants to know about the screaming dwarf. (The what? Oh yeah… There is a dwarf strapped to a table in this room, he appears to be being tortured somehow I think?) He tries to help him, but there is some kind of barrier preventing him from getting close. When he encounters this forcefield, he thinks it is linked to the will o wisp. Destroy the wisp, and remove the barrier.

Hartvig comes in to see what’s going on, and heals Skabb at second level with his one remaining action. 2d8 - 9. She’ll take that. “You’ve just doubled my hit points.” Hartvig coughs and some ash comes out; Skabb pockets it.

Jorg’ath is about to go, but there is a thing that happens first. The wisp appears and shoots lightning at Nadia but misses, because her AC is 23 now that she is pressed against the wall. Hah! Skabb’s Magic Missile wand goes off for 4 damage, yeah. Luna shoots her arrow as well, for 8 piercing damage. Nice!

It turns to Jorg’ath to shock him as well, the 27 hits but the 10 doesn’t. 19 damage, ouch. Jorg’ath does a little Rage and crits with his greatsword, then crits the damage as well! And it takes some acid damage, Jorg’ath gets the Howdy Doodis and a Hero Point! He was spinning around with his sword in his hands and cleft it in twain.

Sprocket sees a sickly light that comes through and hits the ceiling - it and the dwarf are both bubbling. Because of the way in which the dwarf is chained to the table, he deduces that the light is destroying and healing him at the same time, leaving him in a perfect balance of agony.

... Yikes.

Would Dispel Magic end his situation, at least for a time? Whatever the source of this magic, he thinks, it’s far more powerful than us. If we cut his binds, we can free him. Sprocket does that. Jorg’ath prepares to remove the dwarf’s head if necessary.

Lasda Venkervale thanks us for freeing him; we ask him how he got into that. About a year ago he was a bartender in Otari. He used to walk to the graveyard every day, but was kidnapped by a mass of writhing leeches…

He asks if we’ve found the torture chamber.

… Could he be more specific? Lasda says he was chosen to be an anchor of something…

Skabb has a question. Since she’s eaten most of the leeches, does this mean the dwarf belongs to her now? What is her intention with the dwarf, the DM wants to know. “Just to keep him.”

Sprocket asks the dwarf how long he’s been here; months, he is told. He has family in town. His mum runs the Rowdy Rockfish; there will be a reward if we get him back to town safely. Okay!

What was he an anchor for, Nadia asks him. The sickly light. It is linked the lighthouse. Does he have any idea what it does? Other than hurt like hell, no. He thinks it wanted his agony. He is not undead like Augie now, but still a living dwarf.

There is a torture chamber nearby, with something scary in it? I think? Wait that was Hartvig’s nearly-girlfriend, right?

(Jorg’ath asks the dwarf if he sings; the dwarf nods. Jorg’ath puts a finger to the dwarf’s lips and says, “Don’t.”)

The creature made of leeches and the fiend are what did this to him. Vaulgrist, that was her. We’ve seen the torture room, we tell him. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Hartvig puts in.

We take the dwarf back to town. As we leave, Sprocket starts singing Blame it on the Boogie.

Being as he is, un-fond of dwarves, Jorg’ath splits off from us and goes to the Crows Cask.

Skabb and Sprocket go to the temple, where Skabb is healed. “I’m all good, I just can’t seem to shake this cough,” Sprocket announces. Skabb gets that weird feeling in her tummy again.

We find the tavern’s owner, Brelda Venkervale, who has been running the place since the last owner, her son, disappeared over a year ago.

(Jorg’ath wants to buy some potions from his crow-wife-to-be.)

Brelda is stunned for a second when we arrive, then there is hugging and crying and all that good shit. After greeting us, and thanking us, she fetches the shield Lasda promised us:

This shield is hardier, and lasts longer, than a regular shield. We give it to Hartvig. (He is briefly overencumbered, but gives his other shield to Augustus.)

We buy potions while we’re in town, and Skabb scuttles off to see if Flashbang has any more tasks for her. We take a rest at Wrin’s while we’re here as well; Skabb crashes with Flashbang and Biscuits.

Jorg’ath wants to have a bar fight, specifically in the Rowdy Rockfish because they’ve never had one there. Nadia and Hartvig are well up for that. We can definitely do one but not this week, the DM tells us. It’ll keep.

Skabb plays a game with Belches; she casts Jump on herself to try and scratch Belches’ belly. She rolls a 27 to Belches’ crit fail 11! (Chariots of Fire, slow mo shot.) She can snatch her out of the sky and land with her in her little hands; she does, and scratches her tummy. “It’s so fluffy I could die,” she announces. This is her best day ever.

“Nasty grabby Skabbins!” Belches shrieks in Sylvan.

Flashbang doesn’t have anything for Skabb yet, she is told.

Nadia wants to start work on Skabb’s frog hat, before it gets any worse. 15 Crafting check, and she has preserved it from further damage and patched up some of the holes. (She hangs on to it, until she can find someone to make some glass eyes to replace the real ones.)

Hartvig sings a traditional Fetchling doom song. (It’s just My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend.)

How benevolent is he feeling today, the DM asks us? There was talk of cloacas earlier which hasn’t helped our case. In spite of this, he tells us that we don’t need to go back in the torture room if we don’t want to. As open-minded as Hartvig is about that sort of thing, he isn’t keen to go back. Last time a lot of his blood fell out.

We go back to where the werewolf sassed us, and sneak as we go. We defeated the barrow wights (Jorg’ath: “The Barry Whites?” DM: “You leave the Walrus of Love out of this.”) so we don’t need to worry about those. We all copy Luna’s homework and Follow the Leader as she sneaks.

Are we bringing long suffering, thrice-dead Grabbins? Yes, and Skabb wants her to sit on her shoulder. We move to the north toward the eerie blue lights. This is the one that flickers. We sneak closer, dodging in and out of the alcoves for cover.

The walls in the octagonal room are carved into a relief of a graveyard. A circular platform sits in the middle, with a large stone on it. The stone is uneven, as if gripped by a giant hand. There are severed hands on the altar as well.

Hartvig, thinking there are fell magicks afoot, does an Occultism check. Skabb sees the objects on the altar are severed hands. There are four of them. Hartvig isn’t sure who the altar is to. Nadia thinks the hands came from four different people, rather than two. They are real severed hands, not carved from stone. (Luna rolls a 6. DM: “Luna, not only do you not know, you couldn’t care less.”)

(Sprocket remembers the Goblin Pox, out of character. The diseased ones roll Con saves; Luna crits. She never even knew she had it. Sprocket rolls a 19, and the DM has to ask Skabb what her Spell Save DC is; she has to look it up. It’s a 20, so Sprocket is still sick but it remains at level 1.)

Nadia is asked to roll a Religion check; she gets a 10. Never mind! Grabby Cat crits her Religion check; she whispers in Skabb’s ear that she thinks it’s dedicated to Nimboloth, the god of Despair, Ghosts and Swamps. She also says those shrines are usually empty of furniture, to symbolise the emptiness of death. Sacrifices kneel at the altar as they are… sacrificed. Hartvig starts writing poetry.

Can we sneak closer? We do, and are told to stop where we are. Uh oh. Everyone but Nadia and Jorg’ath must make Will saves - Skabb and Luna are unaffected, but the others are Frightened 1 - Grabby is Frightened 2. Now that we’re closer, we can sense the entire shrine is infused with a sensation of despair and hopelessness. The four hands start to twitch. (Hartvig: “I think I’ve seen this film.”)

Some stuff appears on the map. The hands start scuttling around, and four creatures slither out from the indentations in the rock. Hartvig checks the ceiling to make sure Jessica Alba isn’t tied up there.

These are Flickerwisps and Elite Crawling Hands… We roll Initiative, but the monsters don’t get a surprise round because we were sneaking, yay!

Hartvig rolls to see if he knows if these things are undead. He’s pretty sure the hands are. They are Aberrations - they’re related to the will o wisp. He also knows they’re immune to the same magic as the will o wisp, but these have a flicker in addition to the shock attack. This flicker is capable of confusing a creature.

He does Needle Darts at the closest hand. He’d hoped to raise his shield but has run out of actions. “There will be no shield-raising for me.” A wisp wafts up to him; he screams. It flickers and forces a Will save. He fails, and it Consumes his Confusion:

Augustus is also Confused, and his Wisp Shocks him, just to add injury to insult. Sprocket: “Oh, wait! Electricity damage?” Augustus is somewhat resistant, but the attack was a crit. It does 29 total damage, which Augustus can ignore 2 of.

The next attacks Skabb, and she fails her save and is Confused, then gets shocked, accompanied by suitable sound effects from the DM. The attack misses!

Another comes for Luna, who also fails her save. It Shocks her and crits, but crit fails the damage. Her tail goes all puffy.

Skabb’s turn, but she is Confused and cannot choose what she does. If she wants to use her Grill of Aberration Bane, she might target Grabby Cat in her confusion. She rolls for it - and hits Grabby. “This has gone from the best day to the worst,” she laments. 4 damage to Grabby, in spite of Skabb saying she has special armour on. Her second attack, she manages to target the wisp but misses. Her third attack is against Grabby again, but misses. Skabb collapses to the floor in ‘some kind of existential crisis’.

Wait… Grabby is Frightened 2, so the attack does hit her. She takes 7 damage.

A hand wafts up to Hartvig and grabs him by the throat. He now struggles to speak, so any spells with a verbal component will take an extra action to cast.

Jorg’ath Does some Damage to a hand. Howdy Doodis! He stabs it and pins it to the ground. He flings a javelin - wait, no, he moved. He gets a Hero Point!

Luna stabs at the wisp in front of her with her rapier, but misses. 22 hits though!

Nadia fires a Tanglefoot bag at a wisp and hits, then retreats to one of the alcoves for cover.

Sprocket is next. He shoots a Phase Bolt at a hand. The DM is delighted to realise that they are both Tiny and Sprocket is, for the first time, fighting something his actual size.

Hartvig is confused but manages to hit the hand, and then the wisp, with his staff - the latter is a crit! 11 damage, nice.

His Wisp Shocks him and crits for 18 damage. “I’m not overburdened with hit points now.” It hits him again, and he’s down to his lucky one. It goes again - and misses. Phew.

The next one goes for Augustus but crit fails, but the next scrapes through.

Another hits Skabb and crits, and she goes down. “Er - bye bye!”

A wisp wafts over to shock Sprocket. 22 hits and he goes down. Another hits Luna, and she goes down as well. This is not looking good, you guys...

Skabb makes a death save - 19, nice. Grabby gets a go, and wants to pour a potion down Skabb’s neck. That’s technically 2 actions, but this has been a shitshow so far so the DM allows it.

He tells us there is something we can do to make this fight easier, and lets us stew on that for a week, and we leave it there. Usually we thank the DM for putting together another game for us for the week, but he tells us that since he’s killed half of us already, we don’t have to. Sprocket: “See you in hell, have a good week!”

[digitaltariq]

Japanese Cheesecake Recipe

TOTAL TIME 1 hour 45 minutes (plus cooling and chilling) There are three kinds of cheesecake generally present in Japan: a baked selection much like New York–fashion cheesecakes; an unbaked model set with gelatin; and soufflé-like Japanese cheesecakes corresponding to this one. The final, typically known as cotton cheesecake, is by far my favourite due to its fluffy texture and refined lemon taste that provides to its lighter-than-air character. I’ve been baking jiggly soufflé cheesecakes my complete life, however I’ve not too long ago revisited my recipe to good it. The important thing to nailing the dessert’s signature texture is within the meringue, which will get folded right into a evenly sweetened cream cheese combination. Whipping the egg whites in a calming bowl protects towards overbeating. Watch carefully while you begin to see mushy peaks kind: The meringue ought to droop ever so barely, like a hook, while you upend the whisk. If the meringue is simply too stiff, you threat deflating the batter by overmixing. (Undermixing is most well-liked—a couple of wisps of unincorporated meringue are completely high-quality.) Rubbing lemon zest into the sugar unlocks the fruit’s aromatic oils and perfumes the batter with vivid taste. And, whereas salt is just not typical of Japanese cheesecake recipes, a small addition right here brings out the citrus much more. You’ll bake the cheesecake in a bain-marie, or sizzling water tub, so as to add steam. This helps regulate the oven temperature, stopping overbaking and cracks. In the event you don’t have a roasting pan, any heavy-duty rectangular baking pan will work—simply be sure that your cake pan matches inside it earlier than you begin. All merchandise featured on Bon Appétit are independently chosen by our editors. Nonetheless, while you purchase one thing by means of the retail hyperlinks under, we earn an affiliate fee. Substances 12 servings ½ Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature Powdered sugar (for pan) 2 Tbsp. plus ⅓ cup (92 g) granulated sugar 1 tsp. finely grated lemon zest ⅓ cup plus 1 Tbsp. (50 g) all-purpose flour 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch ½ tsp. Diamond Crystal or ¼ tsp. Morton kosher salt 4 giant eggs, separated 8 oz. cream cheese 1 cup complete milk 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. contemporary lemon juice SPECIAL EQUIPMENT A 9"-diameter springform pan

Preparation

Step 1 Place a rack in center of oven; preheat to 350°. Deliver 10 cups water to a boil in a kettle or medium saucepan and hold heat. Butter backside and sides of springform pan with about half of ½ Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature. Line backside of pan with a parchment paper spherical, then wrap a strip of parchment round sides; it ought to lengthen 1" above the perimeters (like a collar; use 2 sheets for the perimeters in case your parchment is just not lengthy sufficient.) Brush remaining butter on parchment alongside sides to coat (don’t coat the underside). Generously mud sides with a good layer of powdered sugar, tapping out any extra. (Some powdered sugar on the underside is okay.) Tightly cowl outdoors of pan in a number of layers of foil to stop water from seeping in. Step 2 Mix 2 Tbsp. (25 g) granulated sugar and 1 tsp. finely grated lemon zest in a small bowl. Utilizing your fingers, work zest into sugar till sugar begins to clump and combination could be very aromatic, about 1 minute. Set lemon sugar apart. Step 3 Sift ⅓ cup plus 1 Tbsp. (50 g) all-purpose flour and 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch right into a medium bowl, then combine in ½ tsp. Diamond Crystal or ¼ tsp. Morton kosher salt. Set dry components apart. Step 4 Place 4 giant egg whites within the bowl of a stand mixer and chill, uncovered. Step 5 Mix 8 oz. cream cheese and 1 cup complete milk in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on excessive in 30-second bursts, stirring after every burst, till cream cheese is melted, about 2 minutes whole; whisk till clean. (Alternatively, warmth cream cheese and milk in a small saucepan over low, whisking sometimes, till clean, 5–7 minutes. Switch to a big bowl.) Step 6 Add 4 giant egg yolks and whisk till clean. Add 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. contemporary lemon juice, reserved lemon sugar, and reserved dry components and whisk once more till clean. Set cream cheese combination apart. Step 7 Take away bowl with egg whites from the fridge and match onto a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment. Beat on medium pace till egg whites are foamy and opaque, about 1 minute. Add about one third (a scant 2 Tbsp.) of remaining ⅓ cup (67 g) granulated sugar and beat, scraping down sides of bowl as wanted, till sugar is dissolved and combination is frothy (like the highest of a latte), 1–2 minutes. Add half of remaining sugar (one other scant 2 Tbsp.) and proceed beating till sugar is dissolved and combination is fluffy, 1–2 minutes. Add remaining sugar and beat till sugar is dissolved and meringue is shiny and thick and holds medium peaks (it ought to look marshmallowy), about 2 minutes. Step 8 Add about one fourth of meringue to reserved cream cheese combination and blend with a rubber spatula till mixed. Add one third of remaining meringue and gently fold in, attempting your greatest to keep away from deflating meringue and overmixing. Add remaining meringue in two extra batches, gently folding till simply included after every addition. Scrape batter into ready pan. (If there are any giant air bubbles on the floor, pop with a toothpick.) Step 9 Place pan inside of a giant, deep roasting pan and switch to oven. Rigorously pour boiling water into roasting pan to return midway up sides of springform pan. Bake cheesecake till deep golden brown on high and a tester inserted into the center comes out clear, 60–70 minutes. Step 10 Flip off oven and crack door open. (In case your oven door gained’t keep ajar, use a picket spoon to prop it open.) Let cheesecake sit in oven (precisely) 10 minutes, then take away from water tub and switch to a wire rack. Take away foil and let cheesecake cool in springform pan, about 1 hour. Switch cheesecake to fridge and chill till chilly, about 2 hours. Step 11 When able to serve, take away sides from pan and peel parchment paper away from sides of cheesecake. Slice, peel parchment away from backside, and switch to plates.   Read the full article

[cyanophore-fiction]

60 Meters

(Cw: body horror, not that horrible though.)

(An older thing that I spruced up a bit. Shout out to old-school SCP exploration logs.)

You look down the hallway and see blackness at the end. The walls are stark white concrete, with an LED lamp mounted on the ceiling every few meters. The lights nearest to the blackness are flickering, sputtering, gasping for breath.

You glance behind. The recovery team stands ready, stationed with a hospital’s worth of medical tools close at hand. A paramedic yanks twice at the steel cable that serves as your tether to safety. Your harness is working properly. 

Begin your approach.

There are no immediate effects as you take your first step toward the dark. Your foot swings forward, passing over a strip of green tape that shows where the safe zone ends. Thirty meters beyond the pristine green tape is a strip of splotched yellow tape. Twenty meters beyond the yellow tape is a strip of decaying red tape. The remains of a remote utility drone lie next to the red line, still gripping the roll of red tape in one claw as it rusts into nothingness. Ten meters beyond the red tape is the event horizon itself. You are fifty-seven meters away and closing.

You are not wearing protective gear, just a jumpsuit. It would only weigh you down, impeding movement, offering no protection. Barriers can be placed to ward off heat, cold, radiation, hazardous materials, hostile actors—but not this. Insulation doesn’t work any more than it does on gravity or magnetism; there is simply danger associated with occupying adjacent space. 

Fifty-four meters. Prickling in your limbs. Sensitivity increasing.

Forty-eight meters. The prickling sensation rises to a feeling of overwhelming tactile static. Your body feels numb, fuzzy, and your proprioception is starting to fail.

Forty-three meters. Unfamiliar tastes and smells. Metallic for the most part, with bursts of sourness and bright pain mixed in. Phosphenes roiling in your peripheral vision. You slump against one wall of the corridor, shivering. A tug on your harness—you offer a thumbs-up to the recovery team. Just catching your breath.

Thirty-five meters. The effects are magnified at the microscopic scale: the nervous system, with its complex transmission chain, deteriorates first. At this stage, the dominant sensation is numbness. If it wasn’t for the substances being dripped into your arteries, you would be non-functional. After this, you will become non-functional for at least three days’ recovery time. Maybe longer.

You cross the yellow barrier. The transition escapes your notice. Twenty-nine meters. Inertia is draining out of your physical mass. The concrete deforms slightly under your weight. Your bones wobble like a rigid sort of gelatin. You are beginning to die. You ceased to be a complete person several moments ago, and have become a irrational, dreamlike impulse to continue moving forward.

Twenty-one meters. You are no longer suffering. Hands tighten on your tether. Someone is calling out to you, but the sound waves are garbled and your eardrums are like wisps of plastic. 

Twelve meters. Your leg passes through the shell of the dead drone at the red line, making it evaporate into a cloud of reddish powder. On impact, the outer layers of your skin slough away into dust. Elastic cords of muscle are exposed to open air. A film of disintegrated powder develops on the muscle fibers.

A hard pull on your tether, and the harness flows right through you. Discorporate sludge for legs.

You can’t tell if it’s a solid barrier of black substance, or an empty vista yawning out before you.

The sudden noise of another utility drone trundling toward you. The piercing whine of an emergency inertial field generator coming online, and your body condenses back into its proper shape. Every bone snaps agonizingly in place. Your molten vocal cords shift from gurgling, to warbling, to moaning as they congeal into solidity.

A pneumatic claw grabs hold of your arm as unconsciousness takes you.

[seriowan]

baby talks - dad!rex x mom!f!reader (victory au)

main masterlist

⭒ summary: in a perfect galaxy far, far away, you wake up one night to come across a precious moment between your husband and your tiny little baby girl. somehow, you find a way to fall in love all over again with just a smile and a little baby's giggle. ⭒ word count: 1.3k ⭒ pairing: dad!rex x f!reader ⭒ cw/tw: tooth-rotting fluff, brief mention of childbirth, parenting, motherhood, talk about having more children, republic victory au ⭒ a/n: i have baby fever. that's it. that's the explanation. this is also 100% self indulgent and rex probably wouldn't do half the shit i wrote in here but I. WILL. KEEP. DREAMING. OF. DAD REX. UNTIL. I. DIE.

-

The bed was empty when you woke. Warm yet vacant sheets greeted your hand when you threw it on the opposite side of the bed. Raising your head at the absence, you paused to listen, craning your ear towards the open door to the bedroom. 

  You were met with silence. Pushing aside the blankets, you kicked your legs over the edge and slipped your feet through your blue slippers, reaching for the navy robe draped over Rex’s reading chair.

Tightening it around your body, you carefully walked out of the room, gentle feet padding silently down the carpeted halls until you stopped outside of a familiar door scented of vanilla and baby powder. It was cracked open just enough for you to hear a familiar voice, deep and rich and spoken in a loving tone.

   “That’s it, cyar’ika. Shhhh. No more tears.” 

   You bit your lip, stifling a smile as you peeked through the doorway. 

   It took every ounce of will to refrain from melting on the spot. Rex, bare chested with plaid pajama pants, lay flat on the ground with your little swaddled baby against his chest. One hand softly rubbed her back while the other playfully pat her bottom to the rhythm of the tune that he was humming. Your daughter, barely a few months old, could barely raise her own head as she toothlessly nibbled on her clenched fist. Rex thumbed away the drool on her chin, gently pinching her rosy cheeks with a dimpled smile on his face.

   “Stop doing that,” he chastised softly, slipping his finger in between her tightly clenched fists. He hummed, pressing her knuckles against his lips as he mumbled,  “Mama’s got to cut your nails. You’re scratching yourself. Heh, means you’ve got a little fighter in you. Just like your uncles, huh?” 

   Your daughter made a whining noise, sputtering past drooled lips. Big golden eyes blinked at Rex before her lips twitched into a small smile, full of childlike bliss that softened your heart in an instant. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow but you remained silent, leaning against the doorway as you continued watching in secret. 

   Rex chuckled warmly when she placed her ear against his chest, giggling as he kissed her small fingertips and blew the soft raspberries into her palm. She let go of his thick finger, sleepily rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before glancing right towards you and smiling. 

   “You can come out now. Your cover’s blown.” 

   You laughed softly, slipping into the nursery just to lay down on the floor besides him. Adoration burned in his eyes as you nestled closely to his side, settling your temple against his shoulder while your finger curled the wisp of hair atop your daughter’s head. She turned to you and smiled as if happier by your presence. 

   “She’s just like you,” you murmured, kissing Rex’s shoulder. “Intuitive. Perceptive.” 

   “Stubborn,” he added with a frown, unfurling the baby’s clenched fists yet again. “And why is she so smiley? She didn’t get that from me or you.” 

   You arched a brow, tipping your chin to give him a pointed look. “No, that’s definitely you. Fives is your brother, not mine.” 

   “Technically-” He grasped your hand and raised it, flashing the silver wedding band on your ring finger. “He is your brother through marriage. But you have a point. She certainly has his humor.” 

   “Speaking of, is he coming by?” You traced circles on the baby’s back, earning a hiccup that made Rex beam as if she had won an award. “He promised to babysit while we go on our date.” 

   Rex cleared his throat with uncertainty, caressing a large palm over your daughter’s small head. He paused before turning to you with an apologetic expression. “I was thinking we go out to dinner tomorrow. I just… I-I don’t want to leave her with Fives - you know how short his attention span is. Besides, Baby’s just a newborn and I… I can’t just leave her.” 

   You arched a brow, lips curling into a sly smirk. “You’re obsessed, aren’t you.” 

   Though he rolled his eyes, Rex didn’t deny the claim as he looked back at your daughter and smiled fondly. 

   “Yeah,” he admitted proudly, poking the nose that mirrored his own. She blinked, drooled, and made a few whines before setting her head on his chest and heartily beating it with a teeny tiny fist. Rex looked ready to burst with love - cheeks flushed red, eyes wide and sparkling like he just discovered something so utterly magnificent. He curtly sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know how we’re supposed to watch her grow. I just… She’s so… small… And then she’ll be big.. I didn’t think…I never thought…” 

   “Rex,” you said firmly, causing his lips to shut and his eyes to dart to yours. You saw the worry and frowned, cupping the side of his face, thumb running over the scar on his cheekbone. “It’s okay. We’re here now. You don’t have to think about the things that you didn’t think you’d have because now, you actually have them. Freedom, a family, a baby. The war’s over and we don’t have to worry about dying in battles or spending months apart. We have all the time in the galaxy to watch her grow and thrive with the love of her uncles and family. Let’s just take this one day at a time, ok? Don’t worry about the future now, or you’ll miss her best years.” 

   You touched your baby’s ear, tracing the outline that felt so, so small against your fingertip. Rex shrugged down the carpet and shifted, rolling onto his side to place his tiny twin between your chests. You both propped yourselves up on your arms, temples to your palms as you watched her kick her feet and tiny hands, making small squeaks and grunts. 

   You both shared a laugh. She truly was a fighter just like her father. 

   Attentive on your little baby, you didn’t notice Rex looking at you until you caught a flash of gold in the corner of your eyes. You raised your head, face softening when you saw the same look of love on his face that he wore when he proposed; when you walked down the aisle; when you took his hand after childbirth and told him you loved him through tears of relief. 

   And every single time he gave you this look, you fell in love all over again. 

   …Until you noticed the slight touch of mischief that twitched the corner of his lip. 

   Your face suddenly fell, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare ask what I think you’re going to ask.” 

   He sheepishly looked down at the little baby with her blonde tuft of hair and curled a thread of hair upwards. The single strand made you laugh but you were still waiting for Rex to say with flushed cheeks and puppy-dog eyes…   “Another one can’t hurt…” 

   You waited a moment before rolling your eyes and glancing at your grinning little girl. 

   “Hear that, baby? Daddy wants to replace you already-” 

   Rex scoffed and playfully nudged you away with a large hand to your face. You laughed against his palm, biting the skin before he could pull his hand back and faux glare. He turned his head to the little angel that peered up between you two with big eyes and pointed an accusing finger at her, deadpanning with a straight face, “Don’t you dare be like your mother. I’ll send you to bootcamp.” 

   You gasped, gently picking her up to place her tummy on your chest. Her small head wobbled as she shakily moved her head, but she held your gaze with a smile on her lips as you said, “He just wants someone to talk to about serious stuff and serious things. Mommy’s the fun one, isn’t she, precious?” 

   Rex’s grin became wolfish, eyes flashing with a brilliant playfulness. 

   “I can be fun,” he growled before leaning his head in the crook of your neck, blowing the largest raspberry that sent tingles down your spine. You howled out with laughter, causing your baby to mimic it from pure delight, eyes flickering back and forth between her parents. You caught the strange look of understanding in the small baby’s face and looked at Rex, arching your brow. 

   “Maybe another one wouldn’t hurt.” 

-

tagging moots who might like this <3

@rexxdjarin @eloquentmoon @a-c-lee @frietiemeloen @misogirl828 @leotatombs @corona-one @pinkiemme

[rin-eko]

Chapter Nine - Blushing Prince 

masterpost

There was a scar on your chin. You touched it carefully as you examined it in the mirror. It was a small one, and would likely disappear within a few weeks, but it still reminded you of the larger, uglier one on your hand that would never go away. You wondered if you would continue collecting these marks for as long as you remained married to the prince.

You hadn’t been sleeping well and it was starting to show. Your shoulders were slumped with exhaustion from sleepless nights, your eyes lined with dark circles Kia tapped extra powder into in the mornings. A constant throbbing headache sat at the back of your head, forcing you into bed early and rise late in the day.

The headache only worsened when you spotted Rindou outside the Great Room, forcing you to slow down to a stop just in front of him, hesitant to go any closer.

You hadn’t seen either him or your husband in three weeks. Not since Rindou had kissed you and you had told Haruchiyo you wanted him out of the room. You felt guilty to admit you were grateful for both their absences.

You didn’t want to be near Rindou after he had kissed you. You had considered him a friend, but he clearly didn’t hold you in the same regard if he was willing to risk punishment for the both of you.

“Master Rindou,” you bowed respectfully before attempting to move past him.

He quickly grabbed your wrist, sighing when you snatched it back.

“Princess,” he started.

“Kia,” you quickly addressed the girl. “Please go ensure the lily tearoom is ready for the empress and I.”

You didn’t want anyone to hear this conversation.

“Yes, my lady.”

You watched her walk away, turning back to Rindou with blank eyes.

“Did you need something from me?”

He hesitated a moment, caught off guard by your expressionless tone and emotionless gaze.

“I wanted to apologise for my actions a few weeks ago,” he bowed his head. “I had noticed Haruchiyo inside and was trying to make him jealous. It was wrong of me to disregard your feelings for my own amusement. Rest assured it won’t happen again, princess.”

Your lips parted in surprise, brows rising.

“Jealous?” you inquired softly.

Rindou’s head raised, frowning. “Yes, I thought it was obvious. Don’t worry, I don’t actually want to run away with you.”

You shook your head, causing Rindou to sigh. He took a step closer to your wary figure.

“Relax, I won’t kiss you again. Not unless you want me to,” he winked. You shook your head quickly. He laughed.

“I’ll try not to be offended.”

“Why was the prince jealous?” you questioned.

Rindou’s laughing ceased to stare you down intensely. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“No, I’m not sure what you speak of.”

“Well, it’s not something I can tell you. Sorry. The prince himself probably doesn’t even know, so he needs to sort out his own feelings first.”

“Feelings?”

He nodded. “Yes. But…” he reached out and you stilled, eyes wide as he gently touched the scar on your chin. “…if he keeps hurting you like this there won’t be much of you left.”

The words were quiet and thoughtful, more for his ears than yours, but you couldn’t help but internally agree. On some nights you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a floating feeling wisping through you, almost as if you could feel yourself slowly wasting away.

Tears touched the corners of your eyes. You quickly looked away, wiping at them, hand trailing down to touch your necklace.

“Excuse me, Master Rindou, I do have duties to attend to.”

“Yes, of course. Excuse me, princess, and I do hope you’ll accept my apology.”

You nodded, only half listening as you walked away, feeling a dark cloud hovering above you.

You had promised the empress you would have tea with her, but all you really wanted to do was drag yourself to bed and curl in the warm covers, disappearing from the world if only for a few hours. You visited the orphanage when you could, and it brought great amounts of joy to your heart, as did thoughts of Saeya. Most days those were the only things that kept you going.

But they did not quell the inescapable exhaustion.

You clearly weren’t hiding it well enough, because the next time your husband saw you, he frowned and immediately asked if you were feeling sick.

You were on one of the long balconies overlooking the city, just one level down from where he had assaulted Rindou. Your husband had requested you meet him. It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly setting, casting an orange glow onto the palace’s outer-walls and warming your face.

“No,” you responded softly, though your head had been feeling a bit light throughout the day.

“Are you sure?” he dragged you to him with a hand on the small of your back and another at the back of your neck. A hand lifted to touch your forehead and feel for a fever. “You look pale. Have you been sleeping?”

His chest looked inviting and comfortable, but it still startled you when your head naturally rested there without any prompt.

It wasn’t because he brought you any comfort, but because you would have taken anyone. Absolutely anyone. To rest your head on. To lean against. Trying to hold your head high just made you realise how heavy it really was.

A deep sigh escaped you as you fell into him, inhaling his strangely soothing scent.

His whole body stiffened, but soon a warm hand was slowly brought down to the back of your head and he was stroking soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured quietly. “Yuma told me you haven’t been eating well.”

“I just haven’t been hungry. Nothing is wrong, I’m sorry for touching you without permission, my prince.” But you didn’t move, and he continued to stroke down your hair.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured long minutes later when you were almost convinced you were going to fall asleep standing up.

You pulled away, stifling a moan of anguish. “A surprise?”

His blue eyes glittered. “Mhm. Do you want to guess what it is?”

You shook your head. “I really have no idea what it could be.”

He pulled you back to him, as if disturbed without you in his arms. A hand continued stroking your hair while his head turned to look out at the view of Senin.

“We’re travelling to Manji in one week’s time.”

You gasped, pushing against his chest to see his face, gauge the sincerity in his eyes. “Really?” excitement filled your chest. “I will be going as well?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I have business with Prince Manjiro and Senju wishes to meet you.”

Your hands clapped together, eyes closing from how brightly you were smiling. “I can’t wait! Thank you for allowing me to go!”

You had never been to Manji. Exploring a beautiful new place would bring you world of good. A welcome reprieve from the palace.  

You blinked at him when your words were met with silence. Titling your head, “Prince Haruchiyo?”

You couldn’t place the expression on his face. His eyes were wide, his pink lips parted in surprise as he stared at you in what you could only describe as astonishment.

Before you could blink he was pushing you to press your back to a pillar, crowding you in and towering over you.

You gasped as his head ducked down to kiss you, completely caught off guard when his tongue stroked your lips and dipped into your mouth. He pulled away slightly, but only to lick your lips and place little kisses all over them. Cup your jaw and nuzzle you close.

You were breathless when he finally pulled away, unused to your mouth being ravaged so suddenly and thoroughly.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that. I want to take you to bed. Let me?” he breathed into your neck.

Your eyes widened. He licked your skin. “Let’s go to our marriage room.”

…

You didn’t say no. Even if you were allowed to, you wondered if you would.

It felt amazing again. He didn’t lick you- much to your quiet disappointment- but he did play with your wetness with his fingers, thrusting two inside you while his thumb circled that wonderful small bundle of nerves. He seemed a bit rushed- eager to be inside you.

He took you with your knees pressed to your chest again, the sharp angle of his jaw and smooth lines of his neck visible above you as he thrust his cock into your warmth. You were too sensitive from your release all over his fingers, so he was the only one who came as his cock thrust deep enough to kiss your cervix.

You marvelled at the sight of pleasure on his face. His pretty moans. His arms shuddering as he balanced on them. He seemed to lose himself.

He lay in bed with you after, quiet with the sheets at his waist and your curled on your side facing away from him. You always felt a little more sensitive after he took your body. A little more vulnerable, and felt you had to distance yourself to hold onto an ounce of composure.

You froze when his voice penetrated the post-sex haze, washing any lingering pleasure away.

“Why did you let Rindou kiss you?”

You faced him immediately, sitting back on your heels and pulling the blankets around your shoulders to cover your breasts. He stared at you silently, waiting for an answer.

“I-”

“If you tell me you like him I might just lose my mind, so choose your words wisely,” he warned, eyes glinting dangerously.

You stared down. “I think… he’s my friend. He has been kind to me, aside from the kiss.”

Haruchiyo suddenly gripped your jaw, hard. He forced you to look up at him. “Has he kissed you before? Did you enjoy his lips on yours?”

You spluttered. “No! Of course not.”

“No? To which question?”

“Both!” you cried out. Looked down again. “I have only kissed you. I did not know Master Rindou would kiss me.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that you cannot be alone with another man.”

“I… I’m sorry,” your head bowed. “I am willing to take whichever punishment you wish.” Even if it hadn’t been your fault.

You head remained lowered, so you couldn’t see the expression that accompanied his silence. But it was unnerving. The tense quiet prickled your skin. Your hands balled into fists in anticipation.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said eventually. Your head shot up to see him settling on the side of the bed, facing away from you. You blinked at the sight of his pale black, a few light pink scratches from your nails adorning the smooth skin.

“Here?” your head tilted.

He looked over his shoulder, a cautioning glint in his eyes once more. “This is my palace and you are my wife, do you take issue with me laying here?”

“Of course not, my prince. I shall find somewhere else to rest tonight.”

He sighed as if you were the most bothersome thing in the world. Sitting up once more, he gripped your shoulders and forced you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. You gasped at the feel of something hard rubbing the skin of your thighs. He was still aroused- enough so to go again, by the feel of it- despite having released not long ago.

He pressed your shoulders into the bed more firmly, as if willing you to stay there.

“Go to sleep,” he ground, then rolled back to the other side of the bed and didn’t look at you again.

You stared at the ceiling and blinked at the strange development. You had never spent a night alone with your husband. You had never slept in the same bed as him. You didn’t know where he spent his nights, but it was never with you. Since it was his palace he had his pick of any of the rooms.

You slowly crept off the bed to the draws your light nightgowns were kept in, quietly unfolding one and slipping it over your head.  

You hadn’t even had a chance to bathe. Lucky you had had a quiet day and weren’t sweating too much, because if you tried to fill the bath the prince would certainly wake. But the sound of footsteps behind you suggested that Haruchiyo was never sleeping to begin with.

You turned quickly, startled when his figure was right in front of you, looming over you.

He glared down at you. “What are you doing?”

“Changing for bed, my prince.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, starting to pull the nightgown back up your thighs and waist. You immediately shielded your sex with your hands, blushing profusely.

“Prince Haruchiyo?”

“You don’t need this,” he bat your hands away, forced them up to drag the material back over your head.

“What if I want to take your body during the night? This would only get in the way. Honestly,” he muttered. You yelped when he suddenly picked up your bare body, slinging it over his shoulder and carrying you back to bed. “I guess I didn’t fuck you well enough if you’re still so energetic.”

He dumped you on the bed, and instead of facing away this time, he slid under the covers and pulled your body to his, locking your legs in his and wrapping his arms around you so you couldn’t move an inch.

You watched his eyes close for sleep, tense in the embrace of his long arms and warm chest.

Feeling your gaze, one blue eye peeked open. He groaned and slapped his palm over your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

It was barely eight o’clock. You weren’t sleepy at all. “I…I’m not tired, though.”

He sighed, flopping onto his back with his arms spread wide. A cheeky grin spread over his face suddenly. He looked at you.

“Wanna fuck again?”

“If… if you want to,” you couldn’t meet his eyes and you certainly couldn’t say that yes, you did want to fuck again.

“Hmm, how about this? If you’re honest I’ll give you what you want,” he sat up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. His cheek rested to his hand, observing you with a soft, amused smile.

“Honest?”

“Mhm, tell me my beautiful bride…” he touched your cheek with one finger. “Do you want me to fuck you again?”

Red splotches flooded over your skin. “If you want to, my prince.”

He clicked his tongue, disappointed. “No, remember we’re being honest,” he reminded. “None of that annoying, obedience that was drilled into you. I promise you’ll get what you want if you just tell me.” A soft kiss was pressed to your cheek, then your jaw, and the side of your neck.

Your lips trembled, pressing into thin line as you clutched the blankets closer to your chest. “I… can’t say it.” Was he really expecting such crude words to come out of your mouth? Your job was to please the prince, not request anything from him. Your mother would have slapped you for cursing and now your husband was asking you to.

“I’ll help you,” he slid behind you, one hand cupping your jaw and the other going to your stomach to press you back into his chest. He leaned back against the wooden headboard, stroking your tense back. You were bright red, feeling his cock press into your back, his legs on the outside of yours.

He stroked down your back and leant forward to press little kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders, wrapping both arms tightly around you until you were forced to relax into his space.

“There we go,” he cooed. “Good girl.”

Shivers went down your spine.

“Oh? Do you like it when I praise you?” he chuckled. “I don’t blame you. The notion of wanting to please me has been forced into you, hasn’t it?”

He continued touching you with featherlight fingers for long, torturous minutes, ignoring the ache between your legs and focusing on teasing little strokes over your back and shoulders.

It was only when you shifted in your spot, uncomfortable at the wetness between your legs, that his hands dipped lower. First to stroke over your breasts, pinching your nipples quickly before massaging the soft flesh.

“I love these,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, staring down at the picture of his big hands kneading your breasts.

“But,” he added, one hand skimming lower to shock you as fingers touched your clit and even lower to your hole. “I love this even more.”

The fingers eased inside you, making you moan and spread your legs further apart. You completely relaxed into his torso, slumping at the feel of that one finger lightly thrusting in and out of you.

“So small,” he murmured absently. “I can feel you sucking me in.”

“Please…” you rasped.

He grinned and gave you a quick kiss. “Please what?”

“Please f-” you couldn’t say it. There was no way. “Please, Haruchiyo!”

He tsked. “I don’t know what you want.” He did, but the look of lost pleasure on your face was too delicious to not savour, and he wanted to hear those crude words escape your lips anyway. He wanted to hear you say that filthy line while you were blushing and had that scandalised look on your face.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you struggled to speak.

“Or perhaps you don’t want me to touch you at all?” His hand moved away and you almost cried from the loss, you sex clenching desperately.

“No,” you quickly gripped his wrist. “I… I like it! Is that okay? I like it when you touch me!”

You felt his body tense behind- become utterly rigid- before a deep exhale escaped him and he groaned, almost as if in pain. His hands dropped from your body, all movements ceasing as his forehead rested at the nape of your neck.  

In your breathless state, you craned your neck back to look at him, eyes widening on the sight of his pinkening cheekbones and nose.

Was he… blushing? You could hardly believe your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he turned his head to the side away from your shocked eyes, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. His other hand covered your eyes quickly. You pulled two of his fingers apart to peek between them, blinking at his flushed state.  

“Are you okay, my prince?”

“I’m fine.” He composed himself after a few moments, side-eyeing you and letting out a defeated sigh. A hand reached out to touch your lips. “Fine, I won’t make you beg me to fuck you today. I don’t think even I’m ready to hear those words from your lips. So for now, just be quiet and I’ll give us what we both want.”

With that he pushed you back into the fluffy pillows, cloaking you in his warmth as his hands and lips met yours once more.

…

“Princess Haruchiyo, son of heaven has requested your presence in his study.”

You blinked, finding your husband’s behaviour as of late very odd. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Since he announced your trip to Manji, not a day went by that you didn’t see your husband. You weren’t sure if it was just coincidence or if the universe was playing tricks on you, but wherever you went, he seemed to end up there, too.

When you visited the orphanage, he popped in two minutes later saying something about discussing funds with Mei. When you were enjoying the quiet of the gardens, there he was walking towards you. You saw him before he saw you, observing the way his gaze flitted around.

Was he looking for something?

He coughed into his fist when he caught sight of you, stopping to stand in front of you. “I didn’t even know you were here. I was just going for a walk.”

You smiled. “That’s a good idea, my prince. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait,” he grabbed your hand when you stepped around him. “We may as well walk together. I’m also going that way.”

You frowned in confusion. “But you just came from that direction?”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning me?” he snapped.

Your eye twitched in annoyance. “Er, no. Of course not, my prince. Please walk with me.”

And the next day, when you had been in the kitchen with the cooks, drooling over the smell of duck dumplings and scallion pancakes.

Both you and the cooks startled when the prince strode in, scanning around until his gaze settled on you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Just watching the food cook. Doesn’t it smell delicious?”

He grumbled. “Yes, I suppose.”

“What are you doing here, my prince?”

He snapped to attention at the question, defensive. “I was just coming to supervise the cooking. It is not that strange for me to do this. It is my palace after all, so I can go wherever I want.”

You wondered if your smile looked as forced as it felt. He had been acting so strange lately. This was only confirmed when Kia was brushing your hair that evening.

“Did crown prince find you today?” she asked.

“Find me? What are you talking about?”

“He came to ask where you were, so I told him you were in the kitchen. You didn’t see him?”

You stared at her for a moment. “He was looking for me?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say why.”

Had he needed something from you but then forgot? He hadn’t told you anything of importance or given you a task to do. Even though it seemed he didn’t have anything to do in the kitchen, he had stayed until you excused yourself. Then, he was jumping from his seat and saying he, too, had something to do in the same direction you were going. He walked with you in silence as you tried to think of something proper to say to break the awkwardness.

The two sliding doors to his study were wide open by the time you arrived, revealing him kneeling behind his desk as he wrote something on parchment with ink.

You bowed. “My Prince.”

He looked up from his work in surprise. “You’re here? That was quick.”

Of course it was. You dropped what you were doing to serve him.

“Servant Nobu said you requested my presence.”

He blinked. “Er, yes. Right. I need you to find me the Dei scrolls.” He pointed behind him at the vast bookshelf that lined the back wall.

“Yes, my prince.”

You wondered why he couldn’t have someone else do the task as you scanned through the books and writings. He had never requested your service while he worked before, so you assumed the concubines and servants always helped. Why did he suddenly need you?

You could have sworn you felt his gaze on you once or twice as you searched for the item he requested, but when you turned to look, his back was always facing you as he read something on the desk.

“Here you are.” You gently placed the three scrolls on his desk, stepping back to await further instruction.

“Pour my tea, too.” He held his half-empty cup up without a glance in your direction. You took it from him and went to a side table where a teapot was kept hot, pouring the green liquid and taking it back to him.

“Was there anything else you need, my prince?”

“Yes. The tea is too hot for me to drink. Blow on it for me.”

You child!

“Yes, my prince,” you smiled, doing as he said.

You knelt to the side of his table, watching him work for a long while. He kept finding miniscule tasks for you to do even though you had a hundred more important things to do with your time.

Nobu entered the room again, this time with a letter that had the prince’s frown deepening with each word he read. His jaw tightened as he scanned over the sentences, frustrated.

“Why are so many getting sick. It seems to be a certain demographic, too, but most known diseases have been eradicated…” he mumbled.

You couldn’t help but peek over his shoulder as he had you dusting the bookshelves, seeing the letter signed with Rindou’s name at the bottom.

“My Lord,” you leaned over his shoulder. He had an open Dei scroll on his desk, revealing a map of Senin Capital. “You are correct about sickness increasing in a certain demographic. That is, low-income families.” You pointed to a spot on the map, circling around the city. “There is poverty on the outskirts of the capital, especially here and here. I have seen this during my trips into the city. There is a shortage of clean water for these people as they cannot afford to collect from Lake Basai. Because of this, they have no choice but to drink and bathe in the polluted canals surrounding the city. This results in sickness and disease. When these people die in their homes, they are often not found for days and rats will begin to eat their corpses, then carrying on the disease. It doesn’t matter if you think the disease has been eradicated- it can easily fester under these horrible conditions.”

You hadn’t noticed his gaze watching your face closely as you spoke, only realising when you stopped and faced him, bringing your faces closer together. Both your eyes widened, and you stumbled back, hardly believing you had the gall to say so much. He had never asked for your opinion. You had just noticed Rindou’s observations matched what you had seen when you took the children for walks to explore the city.

“Um, sorry for speaking out of turn,” you mumbled, kneeling to his right with your hands tightly fisting the material over your lap, your head bowed.

“Ah, you’re forgiven.” Perplexed by his slightly strangled tone, you looked up only to find his head tilted to the other side as the back of his hand covered his nose, cheeks and mouth.

“My Lord, are you feeling alright? Your cheeks are flushed. Do you have a temperature?” you knelt up to feel his forehead as he watched you with a curious gaze. It was the second time you had seen him blushed.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just hot in here. Fan me.”

You nodded, getting up to retrieve a fan to slowly wave near him for a few minutes.

He coughed into his fist. “There is something else. When we return from Manji, we’ll share our marriage quarters.”

You stopped fanning abruptly. “Share? You mean-”

“I’ll be sleeping there.” He suddenly sniffed and turned his nose up like he was displeased with his own idea. “Don’t get the wrong impression. It has nothing to do with you. The empress dowager will get angry if she finds we haven’t been sleeping together, that’s all. My grandmother is a pain when she doesn’t approve of something.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, resuming waving the fan slowly.

“What?” he snapped, slamming his ink brush down to focus glaring baby blues on you. Black splotches of ink sprung from the brush, dots of dark liquid sinking into his documents. He paid them no mind. Instead questioning angrily, “You don’t want to share a room with me?”

“No, it’s not that. I will do whatever pleases my prince.”

“So why don’t you sound happy to spend nights with me?”

Ugh, what a tiring man.

You smiled. “I am happy. Thank you for granting me this.”

Tagging: @soushswag @crown5 @angelmitsuri @c4tboyxiao @azusachna @luka-ali

[javiersprincess]

Hello! For your 1k event, I would like to request special grade with Gojo Satoru <3 The inspo is Estelle & AJ Michalka's Here Comes A Thought song: Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust. My preferred pronouns are she/her and I'd like to be referred as lynn/sweetie. Please and thank you in advance Lamb ^w^~

NOT A GOD IN NEED OF YOUR LOVE

Despite all that would say Satoru Gojo is not a god. He is not the divine, he is not an idol to be worshiped - merely a man born to replace Atlas the titan in his burden of holding the sky of expectations on his back as his legs give and shake from the cuts tragedy leaves him with. Everyone sees Satoru as what he lets them see - he’s arrogant, frivolous, and annoying but undoubtedly the strongest. No one sees what Satoru shows you; that is by design, he can’t bear himself to others, and the cruelty and irony of the world won’t let him.

But then, there’s you.

You are his constant, the only person who has stood by his side when fate has taken everything from him and left him a script of who he must be and not who he wants to be. You’re his betrothed, he’s known you for all his life so maybe that’s what he can attribute his love to. He always knew you were there, through the absence of his parents, the betrayal of his true friend - there you remained, unmarred by the cruel rake of time.

Satoru comes to you, the day before Christmas, his head down and you know why. You two are arranged - the marriage date looming over you two in the spring but you know that’s not it. He has to walk through the street to get here, where the betrayal of his life happened. Though the years have passed, the wounds on his guarded heart still ache. The night that he left, dark hair disappearing into the night, and Satoru came to you eyes red from despair you promised you’d bring your fiance his head, ridding the one single thorn that haunts the life of the man you loved.

You let him in, and watch as he phases into your apartment like a ghost - it suits his pale hair and skin. He shuffles to your room and you here the padded flop of his body meeting your bed and you go to the kitchen, knowing what it his he needs. Coco powder, the kind with added vanilla and is so powdery taking a breath near it makes you hack as you taste it in the back of your throat. Shuffling from your room makes you sigh fondly, you can see him now - Satoru who look likes a little boy again, lanky form curling up like a cat around your pillows and covers his face with your pillows.

The milk is warm, and you pour the powder into the warm cup - if Satoru had ears and a tail, you wonder if they would perk and wang at the tinkling of the spoon against the mug. You place the spoon in the side of the sink for dirty dishes, and make your way to the bedroom. Your sock clad feet make soft sounds against the wooden flooring of your apartment and you huff at the blob you see in your sheets.

You also notice how the small bear you’ve had since childhood is peaking next to wisps of white hair. Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you hold out the mug - an open invitation for Satoru. He’s always loved having a choice, you always seek to give him one. You smile softly at how first his hand peeks under the covers, then his head emerges and you see him take the mug. He brings it close, as if the warmth from the ceramic would soothe the ache from the part of his heart you know you can’t fill. His palm, larger than yours, opens itself up to you and you rest your own hand there, bringing his hand to you and you kiss it.

“Did something happen?” you ask, voice soft. He shakes his head, and he drinks from the mug. You watch him from your eyelashes as he enjoys the overly sweet drink. You find him adorable unfortunately, you like how he puts the mug to his wind bitten cheek and he looks at you from under the length of his hair.

“I thought I saw him. It was just someone else but - you live close by and he knows about you, so I thought…” There’s a crack in his voice and his lips twist into a pained pout, like just saying what he assumed had happened was too horrible to say. You bump into his shoulder, squeezing his hand once then twice and letting go.

“It’s okay Satoru.” He leans in and puts his head on your shoulder, letting his forehead rest against the bone of your body and tries to dispel the fears that raced through his mind. Your hand comes up and caresses his locks.

“He won’t be able to find me, it’s okay.” you soothe him, voice like a wind chime in june and he nods, your apartment is sealed and armed to the teeth. Nothing and no one you don’t want to get in can get in, the conditions of your technique you added to your home and he’s relieved that you can protect yourself to this extent.

“Thank you.” he says quietly and you know what the soft candace of his voice means, you encourage him to finish the mug and you keep your gaze on him - long white eyelashes, high cheekbones and soft lips and you sigh. You let go of his hand in favor of rubbing his cheek with your knuckles and he leans into the softness of your skin.

“You worry me sometimes.” You mutter.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He says. Nothing else can be said.

“Stay here tonight. It’ll do you some good.” You say as you reach over for the empty mug. He nodes and pull it out of reach with a small but playful smile. You huff at his antics but let him have his way, it’s been a rough night for him.

“I’ll wash it, let’s go to bed.” You nod and climb over him, settling down in your sheets, watching as he gets up to turn the lights off. You like how he has to bend down a little when he walks through the doorways of your place, it’s cute. He comes back and slides into your bed, you had to buy a bigger one for him back in the day.

Blue eyes meet yours and they blink 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

A smaller hand fits into his and squeezes it 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

[cyn--ical]

Alone Together -Chapter Three

authors note: shamelessly inspired by that scene with Rue and Elliot, I apologize for the shitty writing in advance, personally this is a difficult subject matter to write about + I struggleddd with how to end this chapter. d/c I love Topper I'm sorry for how he was treated here lol, Would love to hear what you guys think of the series so far

TW: drug abuse

Chapter 3: ExBrother, ExFriend, ExBoyfriend

Rafe Cameron was 6 feet 2 inches of pure unprocessed anxiety.

He’d first noticed this omnipresent shadow looming behind him, around him, whilst at the foot of their twisting staircase. Holding a crying Sarah’s chubby little hand in his; Ward screaming at the front door that left behind the wisps of his Mother’s perfume.

He’d wanted to stop her, he’d wanted to cry out, to grab onto her, beg her to stay, tell her he was sorry, tell her he could believe her, tell her he would change.

But his feet stayed glued to the wooden floor and his lips stayed glued to each other, like they’d done so many years before; and he’d watched the last of her curls slip behind the doorframe of his bedroom door and he did nothing.

Rafe Cameron was dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes.

He was shaky fingers laced with the grit of sand and white powder, reaching up to push it out of his face.

He was falling to his knees one hand now holding his chest trying to push down the last of the oxygen before it escaped through his strangled gasps.

"Wheezie" he breathed out, his vision clouded with a flurry of entoptics.

"Wheezie" he called out again louder, knowing that his little sister would have only been standing around the corner at the first sounds of his argument with Y/N.

"Seriously get in here" he said, with the last of the words he could muster before returning to his struggle of drawing in breaths far enough to reach his lungs.

Wheezie tiptoed in, her brother sounded desperate but the uncertainty of whether or not she was walking into an elaborate ruse only to be busted for eavesdropping was reflected in her slow hesitating steps.

"You don’t look so good" she said, there was a pitch in her voice that held the nuance of panic.

"No shit Watson, glad to see those glasses are working"

Wheezie knelt in front of Rafe, she’d never understand him or Sarah or how they could keep messing up their lives like this. She couldn’t make sense of why they kept facing these simple problems with complicated solutions. She hoped that when she finally delved into the dark underbelly of puberty, she’d be able to keep her common sense intact long enough to match its claws and teeth; and avoid the inevitable chewed up and spit out fate that had befallen her siblings.

"I need you to check my pulse" he laboured on.

"What? Rafe, what do you mean, what are you talking about, I don’t know how to do that" whatever panic had been simmering below her words had suddenly, instantly bubbled over.

She was watching her brother slowly lose consciousness.

"I’m getting dad" she leapt to her feet, only to be harshly pulled back, her knees bruising against the hard wood.

"No"

Rafe Cameron was tripping his way towards deaths door and he still couldn’t think of anything worse than asking Ward for help.

He opened up his sisters palm and folded in all but her index and middle finger, he pressed the remaining two fingers against his neck just under his jawbone.

"Get your phone out"

"Rafe I can’t, please I can’t do this" Wheezie said, her words squeaking between her quickly forming tears, she pulled her fingers back away from his skin.

He sighed, he couldn’t remember how many lines he’d done, was it 5, it could have been 6, could have been oxy, could have been k, could have been xans, he couldn’t remember.

Rafe Cameron had fucked up, he was fucked up and he guessed he was about 3 minutes away from passing out or worse and that would really fuck Wheezie up too. He sighed again.

He placed a hand on his sisters shoulder, “Please, I need you to get yourself together for me, because I can’t, please Wheezie just get your phone out”

His grip was firm, grounding and Wheezie couldn’t decide if it was more for her or for him. She reached into her pocket and got her phone out.

"Good" he said placing her fingers back on his neck, “Now get the stopwatch up, I need you to count how many times my heart beats for a minute, okay?”

"Hey, hey look at me, can you do this for me?"

Wheezie nodded, bitting her lip, bitting back the tears that fogged up her glasses.

"Yes"

The room was dead silent, she focused on her brothers heart beat till all she could hear was its drumming echoing inside her ears, 1...2...3...4.....5

"48"

"Fuck"

He was on the outside looking in now, everything moved in stop motion -ridged and slow, his thoughts blurred just out of focus.

"Is that bad? RAFE, is that bad?!" the alarm in her voice rang in between his ears.

Wheezie was drowning here, she didn’t know it at the time but would later realize that she’d swam way out her depth the minute she’d entered his room.

"I need you to go into my closet and get the adderall, its in the second drawer down on the left" he said.

Rafe’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it thundered in Wheezie’s ears and all she heard was more drugs.

"N- no I’m getting dad, I’m- raf- your crazy I’m not getting you more drugs, you’r- al- already- you’re like dying" she half stuttered half screamed, chocking on her tears.

"Listen to me, there isn’t time, just get me the pills...just get me the pills Wheez"

Rafe Cameron’s breathing was shallow and heavy, it hurt to speak, it hurt to move, his bones ground together like rocks and his brain sizzled, He felt his face begin to melt through his eyes, forcing them to close.

He strained to hear the muffled sounds of Wheezie rummaging through the drawers and prayed she’d find them.

"Here" she pushed the small packet of faded peach coloured pills into his chest.

"Crush one of them"

Wordlessly Wheezie placed the small pill on the floor, she could barely see from behind her fogged up glasses. She pushed the back of her phone down onto it till she heard the crunch as the pill split into tiny pieces; her tears fell soundlessly onto her screen.

He’d been bent over, leaning so far forwards, his forehead was inches away from the ground. Rafe slumped down pressing his nose into the powder and snorting it as quickly as his body allowed. He tilted his head back, the bitterness racing down the back of his throat, he breathed.

The high pitched ringing had stopped, his head emerged from underwater, he could hear; he could see; he could feel, he could feel his heart.

"There you are" he chuckled sheepishly.

Wheezie looked at him with disbelief -with disgust.

As if the last 5 minutes had been nothing but a fever dream; Rafe had gotten back up, dusted off his jeans and raked his fingers through his hair styling it back into place. He’d grinned at her and she’d wanted to punch it right off his face.

"What was that, why did you make me do that" She knew that the worst part was over and he couldn’t make her feel bad for being angry now.

"Come on Wheez don’t be like that, I just needed a little help thats all, it wasn’t serious" Rafe shrugged.

It was like whiplash -the nonchalance in his voice and it snapped something inside her.

Wheezie sobbed, her whole body shaking, she felt it in her gut. It confused him, but Rafe hated seeing his sister cry, he pulled Wheezie into his chest wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"I promise it wasn’t serious" he whispered into her hair.

"How can you say that" she trembled against him.

"I wouldn’t put you in that position Wheez"

She pushed against him, trying to free herself “but you just did” she said, her voice breaking.

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to this look, he’d been raised his whole life on this look, but not once had he’d seen it worn by his youngest sister, until now. That look, a mean mixture of disappointment, pity and resentment. Saying he’d grown accustomed to it was an understatement, but on Wheezie it hit him different. He wasn’t sure about anyone, but they’d had a bond, She loved him and he knew it and now he’d fucked that up too.

"What do you want from me kid, an apology?" he’d burn the bridge before she could light the match.

"I just want my brother to stop being such an asshole to everyone...to me"

“I don’t want you to die Rafe”

He moved towards her and pulled her into his side, “I wont, I’m sorry and I don’t mean to be an asshole you know?”

He gave her a quick kiss on her temple and pushed her towards the door.

"I know" she said, hesitating in the doorway, before stepping out of his room with even more uncertainty than she’d entered.

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

2 hours later, he was slumped over Topper’s kitchen counter doing a line of coke.

The little “study session” that Topper had organized sounded distant, warped behind the double glazed french doors.

The music blared in, bass reverberating beneath his sneakers before being muted by the slam of the door.

"Yo Dude, Rafe slow down" Kelce said shooting Topper a look, as they made their way over to him.

They’d heard from Sarah, who’d heard from John B who’d heard from Y/N what had happened that afternoon.

"I’m good" Rafe said, waving them off.

"Seriously, Rafe, Y/N’s a great girl but-"

"-Shut up Topper" he said annunciating every word, “I don’t need you telling me how great my girlfriend is, I know she’s great, she’s so fucking great” he snapped.

"Look man, all we’re saying is it sucks what happened but we’re here for you...just go easy on the candy or my brothers gonna kill me" Kelce said, dropping an arm around Rafe’s shoulder and patting a hand on his chest.

"Yeah, like I was saying Y/N’s a great girl, you made a mistake but she’s gonna understand, everything’s gonna be fine and besides, whatever happens we got you dude" Topper stated, tipping his cup towards Rafe.

Rafe shook Kelce’s arm off him and leaned in for another line. They meant well, they always did, but right now he hated them, he hated their stiff collars and perfectly pressed polos, he hated the watches they wore so proudly -Daddies gifts passed down over generations of old money, the same “gift” he’d gotten, stolen from a locked drawer, he hated how genuine they were being, their stupid smiles and brotherly reassurance, he hated the control they had, how they could get fucked up without getting fucked up. But most of all he hated himself for hating them.

"You know what boys you’re right, everything’s gonna be fine" he said, flashing them a fake smile.

"Here" he said, grabbing the nearest bottle of tequila and pouring out three shots. “Lets drink to it”

"Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about” Kelce said slapping a hand on Rafe’s back, “Cameron on top!"

"Dude" Topper laughed

"What I didn't mean it like that- I just meant like- you know nothing can keep him down-"

"Aright, alright, alright, so are we drinking or what" Rafe said, waving them off

"Top?"

Rafe held out the shot of brown liquid, his eyebrows raised. Topper knew it was more of a challenge than a question. He took the small glass from him and downed it, his eyes never leaving Rafe’s. He held the older boy’s gaze for a second longer before the coughs spluttered out.

Rafe scoffed before pouring out another one and sliding it over towards Topper. He walked over to the doors and swung them open, promptly cutting off the music and the swarm of protests that followed, as he climbed up onto the patio table.

“Listen up, everyone say thank you Topper for this generous opportunity for us to come together and catch up on our summer reading”

A ripple of laughs, whistles and thank you Topper’s fanned out through the soon to be upperclassmen of Kildare Academy High.

"Dude what are you doing?" Topper whispered, tugging on Rafe’s shirt as he swayed too close to the edge of the table.

Rafe leaned over and stared down at his friend, pushing his hand off him. Topper could see the blacks of his friend’s pupils spilling out into the blues, shimmering so deceitfully deadly like a growing oil spill. Rafe was too high and too drunk to be doing this.

“Get down”

“Who’s gonna make me Thornton, you?” Rafe said in the same tone he’d had earlier when he’d offered Topper the drink.

Topper held his hands up and backed away, there was no arguing with Rafe Cameron, especially intoxicated Rafe Cameron.

Rafe steadied himself back up and plastered that fake smile across his face. “Now I’d personally like to thank my best friend Topper for not only being there for me but for constantly cucking himself out to my sister, Sarah Cameron” He smirked as he pointed towards the pool where Sarah was sitting on John B’s lap “There she is, resident Kook princess, its funny cause Sarah here has always wanted a puppy, guess she didn’t realize we already had a family pet, so here’s a toast to our little bitch boy Topper Thornton”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the crowd as they watched Rafe down the shot. The awkward shuffles and whispers disappearing as quickly as they’d come as someone accidentally on purpose tripped over something or someone and turned on the music again, drowning out the scuffle of Kelce and Topper pulling Rafe off the table.

"What the actual fuck was that" Kelce demanded, pushing Rafe back into the house, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Rafe stared blankly at Kelce as he turned back to the kitchen counter, grabbing the nearest bottle and pouring out another drink.

"Look man I know you’re going through some shit right now, so I’m just gonna do you a favour and forget everything you just said" Topper stated.

"Do me a favour? do yourself a favour Thornton and stop getting so fetal over everything" Rafe chuckled humourlessly, he was over this conversation, over them.

"Jesus dude enough" Kelce remarked

Rafe’s response died mid sentence as they were greeted by the encore of rap lyrics muted once again by the slam of the glass doors.

"Don’t you dare ever drag me into one of your drug fuelled hate speeches again" Sarah shouted at him from across the room, John B at her heels like her personal guard dog. He really had to hand it to his sister, the way she had all her boys turning everything but tricks for her. When else would John B, be caught dead at an all Kook party let alone at the Thornton's.

Great

Rafe leaned against the kitchen counter his head in his hands, his eyes rolling behind his palms, he should have known better but tequila made him stupid. It was one thing to listen to Topper and Kelce, but he’d sooner dig his own grave than stay and listen to anything his sister had to say.

He did his best to drown out the whine of her voice, but the coke was wearing off rapidly and he needed another fix.

"Dude you’re a mess" John B’s words cut through the barrage of Sarah’s

Rafe had missed the nervous looks shared between them, he’d missed how Sarah had stopped talking and how she was now holding onto John B’s hand so tightly it had turned white, Topper and Kelce were talking to him but he couldn’t hear them. All he could feel was the clamminess of his hands, his legs shaking and giving out. The feeling of not being able to breath rapidly flooding his lungs again.

"Rafe!”

He was surrounded by voices that he could barely place, falling in and out of consciousness till he heard that one...

"Y/N?"

taglist: @bjrmaybank @kaelibaby @lilicr @tishanas-darlings @americaarse @delicaties

[heartofspells]

🌹🌹🌹 something from wasteland pleaseeeee

a;kdsjf;lskj

OF COURSE!

Er...cw for imagery?

--

"You left," it says faintly, those two syllables more crushing than anything else could ever hope to be. "You left me to rot. You left me to die."

"No," whispers Sirius, shaking his head, the motion jerky, haptic. "No, I tried – "

"You left me to rot!" screeches the voice, a dark head turning, hair made of flowing shadows swinging wildly, tendrils sprawling out, eating away the fog, devouring the light.

Sirius wants to run, spin around, not look, but he can't, frozen in place, those wisps of darkness wrapping around his ankles and wrists, holding him, swallowing him. The head keeps turning and Sirius' breath is sucked away before he sees, before the truth of it smacks into him, those empty sockets where eyes should exist falling over him like the reckoning of end days, the reaping of a tarnished soul, pure white, powder spilling down cheeks, the only light that remains as the blackness consumes all else.

--

Send me a rose and I'll give you something from a current WIP.

[chronicparagon]

Ours (enzio x harmony)

Send me "Ours" for a drabble of our muses raising a child.

“Eight...nine...ten.” Harmony mutters under her breath before tucking the powder blue swaddling blanket tighter around the bundle in her arms. Sure enough, the baby has all ten fingers, and she counted all ten toes earlier. The baby is healthy, but Harmony checks, just to be sure. The baby’s gray eyes remain closed as she continues to sleep, undisturbed by her mother wanting to check on her hands. 

Harmony adjusts the bundle while leaning by Enzio’s side as they lounge on the sofa. The little girl came to the world just a few weeks ago. Adjusting to a new life with the baby has its own challenges from sleepless nights, the feedings, and balancing the daily tasks with the baby’s needs, but both parents love her so. Every bit of it is worth it. Their daughter is a beautiful blessing, and Harmony’s heart swells with pride over her and Enzio. 

“You know...” Harmony speaks gently, her head tilts to Enzio’s direction. A warm smile graces her lips. A hand gently brushes the dark blue wisps of hair from the child’s face. 

“She looks so much like you.” She adds with a giggle. Her head dips until her lips press a gentle kiss on top of the baby’s head.  “She’s so cute, just like you!” Harmony leans back once more with her head resting against Enzio’s shoulder. “I love both of you.”

[steelcarbuncle]

Fire in the Skies

(Saving this post from a few months back) (TW: Blood and violence)

(Mood music)

The sky above the sea and the Zephyr's Luck is alight with fire.

Just like the dream.

The screaming started above deck. Sasani tears her eyes from the portcullis and flipped dexterously from the crew bunk she had been in. She only grabbed her hammer and the breastplate from the floor before heading above deck and past other frightened and bewildered crew members. The monsters had returned and they had need of her, she was so certain.

Blood. The deck was washed in blood of the crew and tattered remains peppered the scene between horrifying monsters.

So quickly.

The Lalafellin warrior spun her hammer and readied her stance, setting her sights on a tentacled beast closing in on a crew member.

"No… no please!" The Hyurian woman cried desperately as she backed from the creature, "We… we've just started our family… please!" She pulled helplessly at the fallen man at her feet, bloodied and unresponsive to her terror. The blackness enveloped her form while she gave an anguished cry and before Sani's eyes the woman's form grew into a large, monstrous form with terrifying mouths.

"No!" Sani screams and charges the first beast, her hammer alighting with flames as she brings it down. "We can fight back these beasts!"

But can we?

There was a sickening crunch of the hammer hitting flesh as it collapsed the beasts shoulder and the sizzle of flames burning flesh. The beast roared and lashed the small warrior with a tentacle arm, knocking her off balance towards the new jibbering monstrosity. It lifts a massive fist to try and bring it down on Sani only to have her roll away at the last moment, catching and tearing a bit of the loose night shirt under her breastplate. She charged her aether down the hammer as she rose in a spin, pulling the giant's knee out from under it. Frightened yelling was coming from below deck now.

What is this?

A black powder shot brought down the injured beast before it could strike again. A battered Roegadyn woman wielding a musket gave Sani a nod before the creature behind her, more mouths than beast, bit down on her, renting the brave soul in twain and staining the deck an even further crimson. Enraged, Sani beat the fallen giant until it started to fizzle, dissipating into the black smoke. A sharp yelp and the yelling below deck quelled. Growling of a four legged prowler draws her from staring at the carnage before and she turned to face her new opponent.

Is anyone left? Am I alone with these beasts?

She screamed at the beast as she charged towards it, the fire of her wrath wrapping her hammer was brilliant even under the burning sky.

I left to find myself, but what have I found?

Wisps of black shadowed her fire as her final swing sent the four legged monster over the side of the ship. She had to hope it wouldn't be able to drag itself back on board. The warrior trembled for the first time in a long time, staring down the elongated, mouth covered creature perched over the captain's quarters. The murmurs of beasts could be heard below deck, but there was no more yelling, no pleading.

No one is left. No one is here by my side. I chose to leave.

"If I am to die this day, you're comin' with me." She levels the flaming hammer towards the beast, standing unflinching as it emitted an ear piercing howl and crawled forth with surprising speed. Her stance readied, she caught the inside of the monster's mouth before it could bite down on her and caused the attack to glance away.

I'm alone. She's not here.

"Come at me!" She screams so loud it makes her hoarse. Spinning round and bringing the hammer cross the beast's legs as it was turning to make another pass at her. Several of the legs crumpled under the heat and force of the battle hammer held by the small warrior. The screeching was terrifying as the abomination thrashed, its erratic movements caught Sani and threw her against the side of the boat.

She's not here and it's my fault.

She had to use her hammer to stand, the night shirt she wore was soaked with crimson but she had no idea if it were her own or the crew's. The sea glittered with flames that sizzled when falling from the sky and the air echoed with the unsated abominations still taking to flight. The misting darkness was now thick enough to cloud her vision and she had thought to touch the link pearl she had been wearing.

"Sari… I'm… sorry."

I'm not coming home.

(Mood music change!)

Across the sea, in their home on Vylbrand, the mammet pearl crackles to life, a different sound coming across than the charting and mechanic mammet chatter.

"Sari… I'm… sorry." Sani's voice sounded so weak, defeated.

There was stillness in the hanger for a moment, the only sound was the clattering of tools as Sari dropped them.

"Sani?" Sari voice quavered, sounding so fragile across the shell and in the hanger as she asked. "Sani answer!"

Each call raises in volume and desperation. The Lalafell's wails could be heard from the hallway through out the night. She stayed calling until well past daybreak until her voice had nothing left.