#a man now. Are you going to deny my golden truth

[neomedievalist]

everytime someone casually misgenders lion i make will more nonbinary

[doromoni]

Was it all a dream? | CL16

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Ships : Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre : Fluff

Summary : You’ve found your soul inside Alex’s body and Charles believes that you are his girlfriend. You're living the dream, but for how long?

Masterlist | Soul Switch Series

< Previous | Charles’ Arc | Next >

A month had passed and you still hadn’t figured out how your soul managed to get into Alex’s body and how you’d taken her place beside Charles. What weirded you out the most is that everything seemed normal and everyone was not questioning anything at all! It was like everything was supposed to be like you are supposed to be in Alex’s body.

Every time you pass a mirror you startle a little because you expect your face … but No. You see Alex, no you are “Alex” now. No one even remembers the art graduate Alex. They see you Y/N L/N.

Weird as it may be you tried going along with everything shoved on you. Gone was the Y/N L/N engineering student because apparently you’ve already graduated engineering and are now working for Red Bull Racing.

Even with your “boyfriend” Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, it’s been a month and you still gasp every time he leans near and kisses your lips. You still couldn’t fathom that you slept in his bed with him spooning you every chance he got.

Ironically, you’ve dreamt of being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend that one time you were dozing off in Physics class but you didn’t expect to come true! Heck, that dream was so strange to begin with! I mean Leo was horse-sized, Ferrari’s car was actually a bike with 7 wheels and they won the championship with it. Oh! And you dreamt of actually birthing Oscar Piastri and being a family with him and Charles. Weird… it’s so weird.

Everything was just so loopy for you. You expect yourself to wake up and actually be in your body inside your dorm room with a monstrous stiff neck or something. But each time you wake up and open your eyes, you face to see the gorgeous male brunette with dazzling green eyes.

“Good morning, Mon Amore. How was your sleep? Did you dream of your ‘other’ life again?” Charles teased you as he kissed your forehead.

Your first week in this body, you tried to tell Charles the truth. About how you shouldn’t be here and that the real Alex should be. Charles only looked at you as if you were crazy and suggested that he’ll take to you go see a doctor.

The more you pressed on that what you were saying was true and that you’re not crazy, the more Charles wanted to drag your ass to get your brain checked. So you just told Charles that it was just a weird dream you’ve gotten. And now your reality was a running joke for him.

“No~ I dreamt of you switching to become a Red Bull driver and Leo is your engineer” You joked back, poking his bare chest. Wow, Charles and his damn muscles! The times you’ve laid your hands on him for the entire week are criminal at this point.

“Oi, my eyes are up here Y/Niee! I swear you just love me for my body” Charles pouted, a glint of mischief in his eyes— almost daring you to deny it.

“ What?? No! I’m also dating you for your money” You teased back, pecking a soft kiss to his lips before removing the blanket off you and jumping off the bed.

Is it wrong to kiss someone else’s boyfriend when your soul is in that someone else’s body?? Oh, the mental and ethical gymnastics you’re experiencing is taxing.

“Y/Nieee~ come back to bed! Just 10 more minutes please” Charles whined as he stared up at you with the same puppy eyes Leo looks at you when he wants treats.

“No no no~ monsieur! We have a plane to catch remember? You’re racing in Austin and your body needs to regulate and shake off the jet lag” You explained as you went to his side of the bed to try and pull Charles out of the freakishly comfy bed.

“Fineee~ give me a kiss first.”

“I just gave you one!”

“Another one!”

“Oh you needy, needy, needy man,” You said as you gave in to the request of your boyfriend, crashing your lips to his one more time.

“Now let’s get ready and catch our flight~” You muttered as you tried to pry yourself away from Charles.

“Mh, can you prepare Leo’s travel bag, please? Max’s jet isn’t really dog friendly” Charles asked as he stretched his arms above his head. Wow, this man is too hot for his own good.

“Whatever you say handsome” You replied stealing one more peck from the Ferrari driver before zooming out your his bedroom.

“Y/N! Take a shower with me, let’s save water and Mother Earth together~” You hear Charles shout from the room.

“Will you let me drive your car to the airport?” You shouted back

“Over my cute ass, you will!” You couldn’t help but laugh at Charles’ antics.

After a few more shenanigans involving Charles and Leo, all three of you were finally inside one of Charles’ road-safe Ferraris— you being passenger princess of course with Leo on your lap because Charles refuses to be chauffeured around.

He said “Driving is what I’m made for. So let me do my magic, Mon Bebe”

“You park like a blind person though” You replied Which he took offense to a loud gasp as you laughed. Now your boyfriend is pouting as you boarded Max’s jet.

“What’s wrong with Him?” Max being the frank person that he is said the minute you and Charles stepped foot on the plane.

“ Many things are wrong with him, like his undying love for Ferrari” You jokingly said as you squeezed your boyfriend’s forearm before you took a seat with Leo.

“She called my parking shitty” Charles exclaimed to Max

“No, I said you parked like a blind person” You defended, holding back a snicker.

“She’s not wrong, Mate. I’ve seen your parking and wow” Max winced as if imagining Charles’ parking during races.

“I hate both of you! I park fine” Charles took the seat next to you still glaring. Trying to soothe him, you reached up and kissed his cheek.

“Agree to disagree there— but I like you either way. By the way, where is Kel- OW!” You were in the middle of asking Max about Kelly when a sharp pain ran through your spine and up your head.

Warning: Reality Expiration 90%

Where did that come from? Reality Expiration?? What does this mean? Was it all a dream?

“Hey, hey. Y/N? are you ok?” The pain gradually diminished and you saw Charles and Max both worriedly hunched over you.

“I- yeah. Just a sudden headache I guess. I’m ok! No need to worry” You smiled at them, trying to ebb their worry. Charles wasn’t easy to convince though.

“Mon Amore, seriously are you ok?? We can catch another flight if you want to rest first” He asked reaching for your hand.

“Love, I’m fine! I swear, no need to worry~” You explained to Charles trying to convince him that everything was ok— even tho you were panicking so much inside.

What does it mean Reality Expiration? Are you going to die?? What will happen to you when the time expires? The mystery of your future made you fear for your life.

Warning: Reality Expiration 98%

“Y/N… I know you’re not telling me the truth. Mon Amore, what’s happening?” Charles held both your hands, slightly shaking — as if he knew deep inside something huge was about to change.

“Uhm, you know my other life? I think I’m going back there” You said to Charles, your voice quivering. Nevertheless, you tried to smile and look at Charles one more time.

Reality Expiration 100%

Prepare for Soul Regression ...

Your soul has successfully regressed

Dear Y/N, thank you for participating in this reality. You are now in control of your own fate ...

Here you can control whats next : What's your next reality?

CHOOSE NOW or the system will choose FOR you.

~~~

a/n : Answer the poll!! I'm trying something hereee ahe. Hope you find this series intriguing. Tell me your thoughts my luvs

Series Taglist: @simpacholic @stereading @lol6sposts : Open for request!

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : open for request!

[suguru-getos]

࿐ soft yandere neuvillette hcs (f!reader) ࿐

neuvillette being a hydro dragon was always territorial of the things he held dear, whether it was his unyielding love for the melusines, or the love for the people of fontaine or the love for justice and the idea of it for the people. this has never been translated into an intense devotion for a human until he saw you. lawyering up oh so sweetly against one of your friends to defend the defamation case lodged against their business.

it was then — that your eyes lingered with the chief justice. for someone who holds a power so supreme — he sure had kind eyes. standing above all, having the ability to shut the whole opera house in a second with the stern daunt of his voice. he was enamoring too… but you didn’t know how enamored he was of you. for the first time neuvillette was getting distracted during a hearing. how your eyes fiercely spoke along with the entanglement of your words. how exquisite.

you won the case & the happiness which made your smile all the more beautiful with the glimmer of victory dancing all over it. you also got a chance to thank the chief justice, too. to which of course — he’d be kind enough and deny. “please don’t thank me. i am just doing my work here.” still, when neuvillette shook hands with you to depart, his eyes widened with the registering of a weird, twisted feeling inside of him. he wanted to protect you for life, mate with you, wanted to be by your side…

it was one of the weird times when it had been the sunniest after the trials. the people of fontaine were weirded out to find out no rains for the rest of the week. despite of the trials. truth been told, neuvillette didn’t have the time to be upset for anything because now he has someone he was invested in.

why waste time? neuvillette thought to himself, he had never approached anyone yet. so? when he approached your door and knocked with a tender smile, with a bouquet on his hands and a sweet smile just to ask if you’d be so kind for a date, you heartily agreed. heart fluttering throughout the date when he pulled your chair, ordered the same food as yours just so he can taste your likes. asking if you’d be so kind as to give him another date opportunity— kissing your forehead while dropping you home. things were beyond golden.

things started getting a little controlling after a first month or so. as someone who had a few friends who liked to travel, you’d find the chief justice of fontaine not so eager to allow you to move out of fontaine. “inazuma? do you understand how far it is from here?” he had a point, of course… “but one of my friend’s family is there and the vision hunt decree is abolished now and i—” neuvillette doesn’t yell at you, he’s too soft for that. “i believe i didn’t ask for any reply to that dearest. you will be here in fontaine. if you want, i can arrange that your friend’s family come here. they’d be given the most royal treatment-”

neuvillette also quickly shuts down any opportunity for you to be talking to someone unknown. it’s simple? he has met your friends in gatherings and they are intimidated and respectful of your man. the others would take too much of his time in dissection of their personalities. how does he stop you? simple — neuvillette gets needy. he would clutch you in his arms and pout. not wanting to let you go at any cost. “i missed you sweetheart.” you can’t help but give in.

he doesn’t do punishments. it is too heartbreaking for him to see you stressed and distressed of him of all people !! however there was an instance where you forgot to inform him & came back home at 2 am with a bunch of people partying. neuvillette didn’t take that lightly. you know this because that was the first time you were pinned against the wall. kind and tender eyes glowering down and enraged. you couldn’t help but sniffle for hours when neuvillette brought you over his knee for a spanking. he hated it when you cried, it was stormy in fontaine for the rest of the week <\3 why don’t you understand he just loves you so much it makes him lovesick!

to make it up for losing his temper — he would spoil you with so much love. it would get hard to breathe under the undying affection he gives you. kissing your forehead, bringing you your favorite food, letting you feel the freedom you felt taken away, anything and everything. would probably surrender and get on his knees, sobbing if you give him the silent treatment.

[animeyanderelover]

Hi, can I get the prompt 50 for my favorite white haired villain (Karlheinz) for my first ask.

As for the second one, I'd like to have some sort of short fic if possible (?) for this Isekai ask with him

I do not do fics unless it is with a prompt of mine so I made Hc's instead.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, mind-break, isolation, abduction

Isekai s/o

🍷​Teeth sinking into the flesh of your lower lip, stiffled sobs tearing through your chest, warm tears streaming down your face. Truly, you are not in your most presentable state when Karlheinz discovers you one night in a desolate part of the city. Lonely, scared and in the deepest clutches of despair. Emotions he could never feel himself, a life that shouldn't concern him in the least. Yet it is no coincidence that Karlheinz has found you here. No, he's been searching for you. There is a strange energy which surrounds you, wraps itself around your figure like a second skin. An unfamiliar buzz of magic he has never encountered before in his life and it is the scientist within him that finds intrigue with that. To think that there would still be something in this world that he hasn't figured out yet distracts him from the usual boredom that has accompanied him for so many centuries now. You yourself seem painfully ordinary though, one human of many in the city which makes the energy radiating off of you only more fascinating. Karlheinz approaches you with the same gentle and charming approach he has fooled thousands of others before yet in your face he can only see shock and recognition.

🍷​Recognition not of his other personality as a benevolent politicion but of his true identity as the Vampire King, as the strongest being in this world. It only takes you brief seconds to shut those emotions down yet by that point it is already far too late. How could you possibly know who he is? You, an ordinary and powerless little thing? Golden eyes rest heavily upon your mortal form, seemingly glancing into your soul with their controlled intensity. Yet he doesn't immediately starts the elephant in the room. He has all the time in the world after all, he knows that he will get his answers the moment he desires to have them. Instead he states that you have an empty stomach, offers you to feed you as he notices that you have neither a phone nor any wallet or money on you. Instant rejection, your panic leading to your next mistake as you only further dig your hole. Your swift action to shut him down are a strong contraction against your meek attempts to pretend as if you do not know him. He tolerates those frail attempts of yours, his eyes studying you with an interest he hasn't expressed in years. That suffocating composure and confidence never once leaving his expressions.

🍷​You may try to refuse him as much as your stubborn and anxious heart desires yet he points out just how detrimental it would be to you to reject his kindly offered hand. After all you speak neither Japanese nor do you carry any money around with you. What do you hope to accomplish? Where do you plan to go? His words make you waver as you cannot deny the truth in them. Still, he has learned that fear is the more infectious condition than logic could ever wish to be. It's fear of him that pushes you away from him. Whether you honestly believe that he wouldn't find you again or whether it is the fear taking over your mind and switching off your ability to think ahead, his offers are best to be not rejected. You're tired, weak, dehydrated and hungry. He can't just let you collapse now that he has discovered you. Karlheinz is a man much too attentive and devoted to his studies to treat them with disinterest and idleness. You are part of a new study now, you are someone he wants as he wishes to figure you out. Your existence feels like something that doesn't belong here yet still there you are in flesh and blood. You shouldn't neglect your own health in favor of running when there is no need, he still needs you.

🍷​There are no urgent answers you see yourself forced to give though for this would be far too easy and even dishonorable for him to consider. The Vampire King yearns to unravel the mystery of your existence himself and he devotes himself to this task. You are treated mostly well yet the tension is something that never leaves your muscles as if you always expect him to murder you brutally the next moment. Believe him, he is no brute who would ever get his own hands bloody. If he would have wanted to kill you he would have done so already. Already aware that you know who he is Karlheinz doesn't hide his identity from you either whilst simultanously never indulging you either. There's always the same composed expression on his face when you try to ask him something or create your own theories about him, your eyes uselessly darting over his face to read something that will give him away. Sometimes you threaten him weakly that you will call the police yet that meek threat quickly dies down whenever he looks at you, stating in a tone far too soothing for a monster like him that you may do so if you truly believe it to be a good idea. Unsurprisingly you never attempt to inform the police.

🍷​He realises relatively early on that he seems to be uncharacteristically attached to you and your little antics yet he initially believes that it is only based on the mystery of you that he wishes to discover. It is his first and only wrong assumption in regards to his own feelings as slowly he realises that his feelings have been turning into something entirely new, something he understands so well in others yet has never felt himself. Love. Dark, possessive and doomed to trap you yet love nonetheless. There's no instant smothering though for it is not the route he trades upon. It starts much more subtle as he turns it into a little bet with himself. He decides to not claim you as his lover before he has figured out just what you are. A little game of delicious torture for him yet a gamble much more harmful to you. You suffer from the challenge he has created for himself, an act so indulgent and unlikely for him yet something he allows himself to receive a taste of impatience, to challenge his own skills as a scientist. It's an act of sheer sadism that he drags you into this game, enjoyment and adoration coursing through his undead heart as he slowly molds you to be his own.

🍷​Only once he has discovered your intriguing origins does he allow himself to indulge in you, to taste you and claim you. By that point he has already driven you to desperation and despair, infiltrated your heart so that you cannot help but love him and yearn for him. The important details he then gets from you though and you tell him at that point almost willingly, mushy as soon as his fingers fo as much as grace your cheek. It's a strange yet curious idea that he has existed to you so far only from a screen whenever you were playing a game yet it brings with it the theory that maybe there are loose connections between different worlds that inspire others in such interesting ways as you have described. There is nothing left for him to explore for him in his world but your appearance is the catalyst for him to start investigate the idea of a multiverse with you as his first living proof. Research on how to enable someone to travel between different realities is something he intends to figure out yet not because he wishes to send you back home. It's all done simply for his own scientific interest. He doesn't plan to ever let you leave him and even you aren't sure anymore if you handle not being with Karlheinz.

[merlingenrecs]

The truth comes out—and Merlin doesn't end up on the pyre! Perhaps there is anger, a heated conversation or some temporary distrust, but ultimately all goes well. Perhaps we even get a glimpse of what a Golden Age might look like?

Today's gen fic rec theme: Magic Reveal Gone Well!

↓ Find the list of fanfic recs under the cut! ↓

⚬ A Better Man by TheActualAuthor, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/43646655 summary: Arthur’s cursed by a witch to experience his worst fear.

⚬ Almost, but not quite by Marti1297, 2k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/39236688 summary: Finally, Arthur starts to realize strange things happen around him, and he comes to an unexpected conclusion.

⚬ a drop of truth by WinglessCrows, 6k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636450 summary: Arthur has a truth serum, Merlin lies more than he tells the truth. Who else would Arthur use it on?

⚬ Allow One To ‘See’ by mollrach13, 30k, unrated https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729350 summary: When the King is attacked in his tent on patrol and falls into an unending sleep everyone is worried. What they don't know is that Arthur is fine. In fact he is standing right here next to them, watching them all fret over his prone body. To stave off the boredom whilst a cure is found Arthur takes to wandering the castle and soon discovered a hidden side of Camelot he never knew about.

⚬ Truths Emerge by s0mmerspr0ssen, 22k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/52211941 summary: When Caerleon attacks Camelot, more than one secret is uncovered. In the face of a hopeless battle, will Arthur make the right choice?

⚬ Crown of Light by s0mmerspr0ssen, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/42482379 summary: About four weeks after he had married Gwen, Arthur awoke with a strange, golden light around his head. Naturally, it freaked Merlin out.

⚬ darkest before dawn by merlinemrys, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/48216928 summary: Arthur: I never knew my mother because of it. My father died because of it. I lost my sister to it. So tell me, Merlin, what has magic ever done for me? Merlin: What haven't I done for you? – In the hours before Mordred's execution for using sorcery to save Arthur, Merlin finally snaps.

⚬ I’d Die For You by Fulgance, 4k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/934552 summary: "You know I'd die for you, yeah?" – "It certainly looks like we're headed that way," Arthur says dryly.

⚬ The Reveal byArgentNoelle, 1k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/6645151 summary: How long, Merlin wondered, had Arthur known? He hadn’t seemed surprised at all.

⚬ How Water by LadyAJ_13, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817572 summary: Leon shuffles, a move so unlike him that Arthur is immediately concerned. “It's about Merlin, sire.” He wonders what he's done now. Something stupid no doubt, insulted a noblewoman or broken something valuable. A day in the stocks might be required to make the aggrieved party happy. But then, that's not unusual enough for his most capable knight to be fiddling with his sword scabbard. “I believe he has magic.”

⚬ Just a Hint of Magic by Drag0nst0rm, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462047 summary: The thing was, most sorcerers didn't know enough spells to actually put up much of a fight. So when Arthur first noticed Merlin had magic, he wasn't too worried about it.

⚬ The Truths He Can’t Deny by N16, 10k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/33923860 summary: Merlin had always known this day would come. An innocent girl. An arrest for sorcery. Except now it's Arthur sitting on the throne in judgment, not Uther. It was always going to happen, but it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

⚬ Treason by N16, 10k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763306 summary: Arthur knows four things: Merlin committed treason. Merlin is loyal to him. Merlin wants to tell Arthur the truth. Merlin is scared Arthur will kill him. All he needs to figure out now is what on earth his servant has actually done.

⚬ Greater Love Hath No Man by N16, 8k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/37562236 summary: Once upon a time, Merlin had been so in love with Gwen that he'd confessed to sorcery to save her from the pyre. That moment seemed like a million years and a million lies ago. But that one lie was a loose thread, and now one tug might unravel Merlin's entire tapestry of deceit. Fortunately, Merlin can always count on Gwen.

⚬ A Scar Like a Vision of Grace by nsowlwrites97, VikingSong, 3k, rated T http://archiveofourown.org/works/56321101 summary: “Please,” Arthur tried. “Let him go. If you want the book–”The man holding the sword to Merlin’s neck smirked. “Oh, that? That’s just a bonus. No, king. We’re here for this.” And without another word, he slid the sword across Merlin’s throat.

⚬ The Hand of the Enemy by N16, 45k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567688 summary: When Arthur accepts an invitation to a nearby kingdom where magic is free, he hopes to establish an alliance despite their differences. Instead, he and his knights find they’ve been invited under false pretenses, and the queen may succeed in turning friend against friend to accomplish her own aims.

⚬ Who I’ve Been by TheActualAuthor, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/41350509 summary: Arthur glances at him, but doesn’t stop to reprimand, “I told him I didn’t know what he meant. Then he spoke of many things. Said I was a figure of prophecy and legend.” His voice twists around the words, mocking them, “Said I was to rule all Albion. I was about to call him out as some sort of sorcerer’s trick, trying to trap me into oaths or pride, when he began to speak of another. A man I knew well, supposedly, who walked in my inner circle.” The king takes a sharp breath and raps his knuckles on the table, making Merlin jerk his head up, “I have little doubt he meant those who stood with me at the table. When the others come, I am going to eat with them, my men and my favored. And when we are done, I will speak to them of this, and I will know who has been lying to me all this time.”

⚬ Stains Unseen by reelin_writer, 2k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/33212869 summary: During the routine bandit ambush, Gwaine is mortally wounded. Merlin saves him with magic, and instead of exploding at the reveal, Arthur is overcome with guilt. Merlin has been dealing with the trauma of taking a life--alone. Nothing, not even the new powers Merlin has, can keep Arthur from wanting to protect the younger man.

⚬ Behind Me, Beside You by TheActualAuthor, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/37246459 summary: Arthur glares at him, “I have no love for magic, they will not help me.” His eyes narrow, “How do you know the way to their camps? We’ve been searching for their borders for years.” “I have friends among them.” He hedges. The king stares at him a moment, then sits down with a weary air, “So you also have betrayed me.”

⚬ A Moment of Truth by sakarrie, 5k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/35432824 summary: Even though Merlin knows it's finally time to tell Arthur the truth, he can't stop his hands from shaking. He knows being a sorcerer is a death sentence, yet here he is—about to tell the King of Camelot. But Arthur deserves to know, and Merlin can't keep hiding from his best friend.

⚬ Stay by wryter501, 13k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/39378669 summary: A different direction for episode 4.7 "The Secret Sharer". Alator goes to Camelot not to find Emrys for Morgana, but with another plan in mind... Why has Emrys failed so long in his prophetic task of restoring magic to Camelot, in guiding and instructing Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King? Fate seems to have handed Alator the chance to right the course of history gone awry - and he's going to take it. He's going to use Gaius to find Emrys - and then they're going to have a serious conversation. But even the best-laid plans of a canny warrior-sorcerer can be diverted... Alator finds more than he anticipated, plotting ambush in iron mines of Kemeray...

⚬ The Serving of Servants by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle, 80k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239129 summary: When a new position is made in the royal household to oversee the servants, Arthur didn’t think much of it. It was only days later when he noticed the mysterious injuries appearing on frightened servants that the prince decided to go undercover and to find out what is going on. Meanwhile, Merlin thinks the newest servant is a mess. Or: Arthur learns what it is like to be a servant and learns some interesting thing about his own servant.

⚬ Golden Is The Dawn by TrekScribbles, 9k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/54962341 summary: When Arthur finds out that Merlin is hiding a baby dragon, he devises a plan to get rid of it. But when Merlin is captured by a band of slavers, the dragon might be Arthur's only hope of getting him back.

⚬ Faithful Are The Wounds of a Friend by VikingSong, 5k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/33734425 summary: Arthur catches sight of a scar on Merlin’s back which he can’t explain, so he asks each of the members of the Round Table if they’ve seen it, too. They have...but it wasn’t the same scar.

⚬ Curiouser and Curiouser by VikingSong, 12k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588263 summary: Gwen knew Merlin wasn’t in the tavern each time Arthur thought he was...but it was Merlin, so she’d never worried about her friend’s harmless lies of omission. That is, she'd never worried until the day Merlin disappeared to ‘the tavern’ with a freshly-paralyzed fomorroh still lodged in his neck. With the threat of the dormant serpent hanging over their heads, suddenly those lies didn't seem so harmless anymore. Or: Gwen is the primary keeper of the one (1) brain cell in Camelot, which she wields to great effect in missing-scenes-turned-canon-divergence in 4x06, "A Servant of Two Masters."

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist: Dexter Soy

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You have been asked by Bruce if you are working with the very people he fights against.

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, mentions injuries, sexual language

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part 11: Honesty

“How many villains have you helped in the past? And are you helping them now?”

Everything for me stopped at that moment. Having Bruce’s eyes on me, a certain type of panic filled my chest. I had to mentally remind myself that he was not my father and he was not going to hurt me. That didn’t stop my pulse from racing. It didn’t stop my mouth becoming dry. It didn’t stop the fear that ripped into me so brutally that my hands shook. I picked at the skin around my nails, the stinging pain made me focus. 

I could play dumb, but there was no way Bruce fucking Wayne wouldn’t see right through that. I could deny the accusations and demand to know why he would think that. I could quit and save myself the trouble. 

Or I could do the scariest thing of all… tell the truth. 

Gotham City: 14 Years Ago

I looked across the table at a man who didn’t feel human. He felt closer to a demon, a devil, a monster. He felt truly vile. His eyes were dark, empty, and joyless. He had a smile carved into his face, but I knew it would never meet his eyes. It took everything in me to remain neutral and heal him. 

He had several cuts along his arms, but they were in various positions, various angles, and various lengths. They were random. 

The creature must have noticed me staring, “Little girl, ask me how I got these cuts!” His voice was shrill, and he cackled when he noticed I flinched. When I didn’t say anything he laughed harder. His hand snaked out faster than I could pull away. He gripped the nape of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine. His skin felt loose and cold. It felt undeniably wrong. His dead eyes stared into mine. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, or blink, or move, or scream. I couldn’t do anything. I was at his mercy, and I knew he had so little of it. 

“I said ask me!” He screamed at me and pressed his forehead harder into mine. 

“H-How d-did you g-get those c-cuts, sir?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from trembling. 

The creature released me. I had to fight the urge to turn around and run away. How could my father leave me alone with this man? He had to know I wasn’t safe. I knew he didn’t care about me, but I thought he would want to at least keep his golden goose alive. 

“The Bat gave me these cuts! He and I, we have a repertoire you see. We enjoy playing cat and mouse. And you see little girl, we like to play rough. It was my turn to be a mouse! Gotta keep the relationship fresh! Would you like to be the mouse or the cat?” 

The question felt like a trap. If I answered mouse he would treat me like prey. If I answered cat he would demand I perform violence to prove myself as a predator. The longer I took thinking about it, the more impatient and angry he got. 

“Neither,” I answered honestly. I willed my tired body to heal him faster. 

“Ah ah,” he tsked, reprimanding me, “that is not part of the game. Pick one.”

I have played mouse my whole life. I was sick of being weak. I was sick of being used. 

“I’d want to be a fucking dragon. Not a cat. Not a mouse. I want to breathe fire so I can tell men like you to fuck off and leave me alone. I want men like you to be scared of me,” the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

The Joker tilted his head like he was seeing me for the first time. He smiled at me and began laughing so hard he wheezed. 

“You have a lot of work to do then, little mouse.”

With that, the clown got up and left. The second he was out of the room it felt like I could breathe again. I swallowed hard. 

Tonight was the night. I couldn’t do it anymore. Despite everything the Joker was the one to finally spur me into action.

I ran to my room and lifted up my loose floorboard. I grabbed the cash I had stolen from the safe. I grabbed my go bag. And I ran. 

Gotham City: Present Day

I told Bruce everything. I told him every minute detail. I told him about my mom, my dad, and everything that happened in my life. 

“So, to answer your questions: I don’t know how many there have been, but it has been a lot. And no, I vowed the day that I ran away that I wouldn’t heal another villain again. And that I would never be– I will never be a pawn for someone else.” I would never be a mouse again.

Bruce stood quickly and moved around his desk. He stood before me large and brooding, and then he knelt. 

“I am so sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve what has happened to you,” his dark voice became surprisingly soft. “And I am sorry for doubting you.”

I felt my eyes start to burn, and I roughly blinked to rid myself of the potential tears. 

“Does this mean I still have a job here?” I laughed weakly. 

“Yes. I value honesty and loyalty above all else.”

I nodded and rose on shaky legs. I left the room without another word. 

I took the elevator down to the Batcave. My nerves felt frayed and split open after reliving my past with Bruce. I needed a distraction. I needed to hit something. 

The elevator doors split open and revealed that I was not the only one who wanted to get a workout in. Dick and Jason stood in the middle of the training mat. Both were shirtless and sweating as they swung fists at each other. For a moment, all I could do was watch like a wide-eyed pervert. 

Jason’s body was riddled with a myriad of scars. I saw evidence of burns, lacerations, gunshots, and of course… the autopsy scar. Dick also had his fair share of scars but it was about ¼ the amount that Jason had. 

Dick had the body of a gymnast. His muscles were lean and lithe. He was built for fluidity and speed just as much as strength. 

Jason was built like a fucking brick house. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and every inch he was covered in thick roped muscle. His physique looked like he had been carved from marble. He was unforgivingly hard and defined. I couldn’t help myself as I stared longer. Despite his size, he kept up with Grayson. For every punch or kick Dick threw at him Jason ducked or blocked accordingly. When he moved to hit back he put his whole body behind the punch. I could see it in the way his thick thighs and hips rotated.  

Jason landed a particularly hard hit on Dick’s shoulder. Dick winced and held up a hand. 

“First: owe that hurt, jackass. Second: I want a break,” Dick said in a sassy tone that made me snort. 

Instantly, both of the men swiveled their heads toward me. I tried pretending like I wasn’t watching them, but something in the gleam of their eyes told me they knew it… and maybe liked it.

Jason smiled at me so brightly that it made my heart clench. 

“Hey, you. Where did you go?” He asked. 

I approached both the boys, “I had to have a meeting with my boss.”

Dick winced, Jason straightened up. “What did the old bastard want?” Jason asked. 

“Information, as per usual,” I replied. It was hard to focus. Jason was dripping in sweat. A bead had run from his forehead, down his face, and ran over his Adam’s apple. I had to force my eyes back up, so I wouldn’t watch it trail lower. 

Jason smirked at me and took a step forward, “Are you ogling me, Y/L/N?”

I could feel my cheeks heat, “Not at all, Todd. I’m just taking in the physical condition of one of my clients.”

Jason laughed, and leaned forward, “Such a good little nurse, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t worry I assessed Grayson just as thoroughly.”

Jason’s eyes darkened slightly, “Oh, I doubt that–”

“Okay well, I feel like an awkward third wheel. I’ll leave you guys to it,” Dick said, as he practically ran into the elevator. Before I could rebut his claim the doors were already shut. 

I returned my focus back to Jason and I saw his eyes trail the burn on my cheek and the bruises on my throat. His demeanor completely changed. He became ramrod straight. Every muscle in his body was tense. Even a muscle in his jaw tightened. 

He ran a finger parallel to the burn, “How are you feeling?”

Like I got my ass kicked, “Fine.”

“Be honest,” he practically growled out. 

“Sore,” that was an understatement but I didn’t feel like voicing my pain. Every time I did that with my father he would just tell me to suck it up and stop being a complainer. 

“You’re more than sore. I know you are.”

I shrugged and that seemed to anger him more. I ignored it and redirected the topic. 

“Spar with me?” It was more of a demand than a question.

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If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: You guys are so slay, ily all <3 Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, messages, and interactions!! They inspire me to keep writing. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, thank you again <3

Hashbrown Cam!

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night. 

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired. 

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks. 

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life. 

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter. 

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.” 

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand. 

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly. 

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby. 

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name. 

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. 

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own. 

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours. 

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees. 

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.” 

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.” 

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you. 

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

[robsterskellington]

I wrote a bit more. Continued from this:

(Basically, what would happen if Wei Wuxian woke up in the Burial Mounds after being thrown down by Wen Chao, but all of his memories from before then were intact- meaning from long after he and Lan Wangji got married)

It was strange, reclaiming the Lotus Pier with Lan Wangji at his side, but Wei Wuxian couldn't deny that he felt calmer for it. He didn't know what he was going to do about their feelings- Lan Wangji never had the guts to talk to him personally, and while he took Wei Wuxian's first kiss, it was only because he saw an opportunity while he was blindfolded. But the problem now was that if Wei Wuxian confessed now, it might be seen as insincere.

Hell, so much he could change would look strange; he'd try and be kinder towards Jin Zixuan, especially knowing now that he truly was his Shijie's one true love, he'd be more respectful of Jiang Cheng's duties and not shun him... but some things had already changed, and it made him unbelievably happy. Wen Ning had been so happy to see Wei Wuxian, and he couldn't resist hugging him- Wei Wuxian didn't want his Ghost General by his side, he wanted this man to live as good a life as possible.

Last time, the problem had been that not all of the Wens who survived the Sunshot Campaign were willing to discard their family name. This time was different- Wei Wuxian never hid the fact that he was protecting the Wens in Yiling and they heard him out, before ultimately agreeing that it was more beneficial to them to leave Qishan behind them, for their lives and futures weren't worth discarding. Thus, Wen Ning was now Jiang Ning, just as many others had changed their family name to match their new Clans.

Lan Wangji informed Wei Wuxian about A-yuan, and how he was now Lan Yuan, until they could come up with a good curtesy name. It took everything in Wei Wuxian to keep his mouth shut, for once.

They stepped into the main hall, and Wei Wuxian felt so much agony in his heart. Jiang Cheng looked at him and went to reach for him, but Wei Wuxian whispered, "Madam Yu was always right about me, wasn't she? Our Clan fell, she and Uncle Jiang died... and it was all my fault. I know that 'sorry' won't make up for all the lives lost, but I don't know what else to do or say to apologise or make amends."

"Mom said a lot of things, Wei Wuxian. And I never did enough to fight for you, so you don't need to apologise." Wei Wuxian gave him a funny look- Jiang Cheng *always* argued against Madam Yu when she punished Wei Wuxian, stating that it wasn't fair that he got beaten or scolded so frequently. He obviously couldn't take any punishment for Wei Wuxian, because he never did anything that warranted a punishment. Jiang Cheng sighed, "Just... you mentioned not being able to go down a normal path. Why not?"

"Way to change the subject," He chuckled weakly before indicating for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji to sit with him. That was when he finally told the truth, himself: "I can't cultivate anymore. I don't have a Golden Core."

Both of them looked stunned as Wei Wuxian proved it, unsheathing Suibian and revealing that he couldn't use it with spiritual energy, it just wasn't possible. In a panic, Lan Wangji grabbed Wei Wuxian and tried to give him his own spiritual energy, only to see that there truly was no Golden Core to put it in. He started to tremble, and Wei Wuxian gently took his hand and held it. When Lan Wangji didn't pull away, Wei Wuxian gently squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng looked like he would throw up, but then blurted, "Baoshan Sanren! Can't we go to her, and tell her the truth?!"

"No. That was the biggest lie I've ever told you. Here's the truth: *I have no idea where Baoshan Sanren resides*. Even if I did, just because my mother was Cangse Sanren, there was no guarantees that she would help me." He looked down and took a shuddering breath, "The reason I was willing to trust Wen Qing before, was because she was a famous doctor who had a brilliant theory-"

"It's *Jiang* Qing, actually." The men looked up to see the aforementioned doctor, exhausted but grinning when she saw Wei Wuxian alive, wearing the purple robes of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. "Though *do* keep flattering me, and after, you need food and some fucking sleep. You look dreadful."

"Wow, thanks a lot. Bitch." They both laughed, but Wei Wuxian knew he had to be completely serious. He looked at Jiang Cheng's horrified face and sighed, "Jiang Qing had theorised that someone could have their Golden Core removed and transferred into another person. When you lost yours, I knew what I had to do to secure your future."

Lan Wangji gasped softly and Jiang Cheng's eyes filled with tears, as Wei Wuxian moved his robes aside to reveal the scar and stitching on his abdomen. To prove the point further, he held out Suibian to Jiang Cheng, who unsheathed it and watched it radiate with a red aura. This was what Wei Wuxian had done, for him. And he still asked how he could possibly make up for everything? He'd already sacrificed his future, his powers, and he knew that people would fear him for using the dark arts. "...why..? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't risk you refusing." That was the final truth of the matter. Jiang Cheng knew that if Wei Wuxian had suggested it before, he absolutely wouldn't have accepted. How could something be so selfish yet selfless at the same time? He looked at the incision, and silently asked Wei Wuxian, who shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it. All I'll say is that I can't gain a Golden Core by traditional methods anymore. However..." he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a shining Golden Core.

Lan Wangji's eyes widened, "Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core. You stole it. Then..." they looked at Jiang Qing who took it and examined it, "Is it possible?"

"I'll have to test it to see. Like transferring organs or blood, some Golden Cores may not be compatible with certain people. It's unfortunately very complicated. It was lucky to have worked the first time, there was a less than fifty percent chance of it working." Jiang Qing missed how Jiang Cheng nearly passed out from that knowledge, knowing that one of his siblings nearly died so he could have the means to use spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian kept hope in his heart. If this worked, the Golden Core would repell the resentful energy inside him, and he could go back to how it was before. If it failed, then he'd simply have to be more careful. He'd do whatever he could to benefit the cultivation world, just as he'd done before with his Spirit Lure Flags and knowledge of monsters. He just hoped that he didn't screw up as badly. Thinking about all the mistakes he'd made, even though not all were his fault, made him depressed beyond words.

Jiang Qing put the Golden Core to his chest, but it refused to go in- when they put Wei Wuxian's Golden Core into Jiang Cheng, it had immediately sank into his chest and settled, like it belonged there. Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core was just as stubborn as the man himself had been, and Jiang Qing shook her head solemnly, "I'm sorry, Wei Wuxian."

"Can't he take his back?" Wei Wuxian was about to tell Jiang Cheng to shut up, but he continued, "I'll find another way. This isn't fair on him, he's done more than enough for me and my family!"

"No. Golden Core's are incredibly strong, but even they feel strain. It probably wouldn't survive the strain of being torn out of a body again, especially when you would have to stay conscious the entire time it's removed." She put the Golden Core in a pouch and sighed, "Wei Wuxian stayed awake for nearly three days when we removed his."

"So... Wei Ying is stuck on this path?" Jiang Qing nodded to Lan Wangji, who didn't even know what to do or say. He'd hoped that if Wei Wuxian had come to Guzu with him, Lan Wangji could expell the resentful energy and guide him back to a normal path, then it could go back to how things should be. But there was nothing anyone in the world could do, now.

Wei Wuxian sighed then shrugged, "Fine, then." Lan Wangji flinched but Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, "If I'm stuck on this dark and narrow path, I'll find a way to stabilise it. I already know a lot of things I can use this power for, ways in which I can help people. So I will. Obviously I'll need help from time to time, and if there's any chance of me losing control of my temperament, then I definitely need you guys."

"As if you could get rid of us so easily, Wei Wuxian." Jiang Cheng finally smiled, albeit weakly. "This is your home. Will you still be going to Guzu on occasion once this is over?"

"If Lan Zhan wants me to." He turned to look at Lan Wangji and spoke softly, "I know I annoyed you in the past, and I understand if... if you hate me, but... please don't give up on me, Lan Zhan."

"...never." His voice had been so soft, that Wei Wuxian tilted his head, and Lan Wangji looked into his eyes, "I've never hated you. I will never give up on you. You're still *you*, even with this. I don't like that this path was chosen for you, because that's exactly what happened, isn't it?"

At last, everyone understood why Wei Wuxian was the only one to master Demonic Cultivation. A Golden Core rejects resentment, while someone who once cultivated would have a much stronger mind, body and soul; Wei Wuxian had the perfect form, but no Golden Core to protect him, making him the only one truly capable of harnessing this power. But he didn't choose it- he only accepted it when it was his only option, because dying should never have been in consideration.

Wei Wuxian smiled weakly and nodded, "Yeah. I even said before, after our first class together, that just being curious wasn't enough for me to want to throw away everything I'd worked for. I goofed off a lot, but I really did take everything I was taught seriously. I loved being able to use spiritual energy, to protect people, to use weapons at their full potential." He looked down, "Don't get me wrong, I find this path interesting, and power is always going to be addictive, but I didn't choose it."

Lan Wangji hated seeing Wei Wuxian upset, and spoke softly, "You're not alone. And we'll figure something out."

"That's enough of all that." They turned to see Jiang Yanli walk in, with a tray holding five bowls of soup, "I'm sorry for eavesdropping... I didn't know if I even had a right to say anything."

"It saves me from explaining things to you later, Shijie." Wei Wuxian had to stop himself from running into her arms, hugging her and crying. Instead, he took the soup she provided, and tilted his head at Lan Wangji's portion, "Is it a different colour?"

"I heard the Lan Clan aren't very good with spice, so I made sure not to add any. I didn't for yours either, Doctor Qing." Wei Wuxian grinned, loving how thoughtful she was.

Lan Wangji looked at the soup and sipped it, his face lighting up a little and he couldn't stop himself from smiling a little, "This is wonderful, thank you, Lady Jiang."

They all ate, none of them talking any more, just enjoying some comfort food in silence. Wei Wuxian felt like his very soul had healed, surrounded by the people who meant a lot to him. He'd asked about Jiang Ning, and Jiang Yanli assured him that she'd already given him some food, and that they could all take the time to rest.

This also gave time for Wei Wuxian to think about his next move. He'd already managed to do one thing differently: when Jin Zixuan had scolded Jiang Yanli during what had been dubbed 'the soup incident', instead of beating up the peacock, Wei Wuxian had pulled him aside and stated very bluntly that just because he felt nothing for Jiang Yanli, that didn't meant she felt nothing for him.

He'd been blunt and harsh with his words: "You only think you hate her because your marriage was *arranged*. If Madam Jin and Madam Yu hadn't decided before the two of you were even born that you'd get married, I'd bet my very soul that the two of you would have gotten along and maybe fallen in love on your own!" Jin Zixuan didn't know what to say, and he couldn't dispute his words. Wei Wuxian had remained calm and spoke softly, "Now you understand why Clan Leader Jiang and I were angry at you when we were kids. She adored you. Look, obviously I have no right to keep you away from her, but for now, both of you need some space. Besides, we have more pressing matters now, don't we?"

Jin Zixuan had indeed given Jiang Yanli some space, but it became obvious that it wasn't his choice- she wouldn't even glance his way anymore, and he realised just how badly he'd messed up. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were furious with him, but both of them focused on making her smile again, rather than focusing their anger on the asshole who made her cry.

Wei Wuxian snapped out of it when Lan Wangji looked at him with concern, but he just smiled. The smile quickly faded when he remembered what his next move was the last time- the creation of the Yin Tiger Tally. Knowing what it could lead to, he didn't want to create it, however it truly was the one weapon able to help them fight with a chance in the war. At least this time, he could ask someone else's opinion, "Lan Zhan. You remember that sword I found, back in the Xuanwu of Slaughter's cave?"

"Mn. It was a strange sword, you were holding onto it when we killed the monster. What of it?" He was curious, but a little worried about where this was going.

"It was full of resentful energy from those who died, eaten alive by the tortoise, but it also had the Sin of Murder within it. It's likely that if melted and reforged, it would make a very powerful spiritual weapon. It has more power than even I ever will, and that boost of strength could be just what we need for winning this war." The issue was how risky it would be. After all, literally anyone could use the Yin Tiger Tally, Jin Guangyao proved that before he died in the future- his brain hated using past tense to refer to a future event, but obviously that was what his life had come to.

It would absolutely give him the strength to win, but he also had to remember that no matter how skilled he was, it was impossible to control that amount of corpses alone. Even during the fall of Nightless City, Wei Wuxian had put everything into summoning zombies to just attack the Wens, but couldn't stop the zombies from also attacking their own men. It was counterproductive, and just senseless killing. Perhaps he could try and simply lay siege to Nightless City on his own, but if he was overwhelmed, he'd die again. That was if the people who wanted revenge wouldn't just come and attack anyway, getting in the way.

"*No*." He blinked and looked up at Lan Wangji, his expression stoney and stern, "Even with your powers, there's no guarantee that it wouldn't harm *you*. If there's no other way, then I'll help you. But please, consider this a last resort only." His expression softened a little when he saw a look of powerlessness in Wei Wuxian's eyes, "You're strong, Wei Ying. But you're not invincible, and I don't want you getting hurt again. Losing you once, it-"

He cut himself off, but he'd already been heard. His ears went red, and Wei Wuxian hid his smile. Obviously the in character thing to do right now would be to tease him for his slip up, but unfortunately, this mind of his had memories of tender moments and a heart filled with love for this person. So, Wei Wuxian instead took Lan Wangji's hands and looked into his beautiful golden eyes, "Okay. I trust your words, because you've already proven that you're just looking out for me. You won't lose me again, and I'll push that idea into the back of my mind. If there's no other choice, I'll create the weapon. If we can win without it, then that's that."

Lan Wangji found himself unable to pull away, or call Wei Wuxian shameless again. He just squeezed the hands in his, and looked into Wei Wuxian's cloudy grey eyes before stating sternly, "You need to sleep. You're exhausted. We have time to rest, you need to take it." He wasn't quite sure what came over him, but he grabbed Wei Wuxian, scooping him into his arms and looking at Jiang Cheng, "Bedroom?"

Jiang Cheng just stuttered the direction of Wei Wuxian's bedroom and watched Lan Wangji run off with his older brother in a bridal carry, "...what the fuck just happened?"

Jiang Qing smirked and Jiang Yanli tilted her head, "That explains why A-xian never spoke of any interest in any woman. Though I wonder why he never told us he was interested in Second Master Lan? Did he think we wouldn't accept him?"

They didn't actually do anything, which both relieved and disappointed Wei Wuxian- relieved because he didn't want to rush their relationship and risk ruining anything, but disappointed because he *never* got to be this close to his husband at this point in their lives. The Wen Clan had actually taken good care of the Lotus Pier, so his old bedroom was still intact and similar to how it had been before, thankfully. Lan Wangji laid him in bed, and just sat on the chair beside him, "Sleep. I'll watch over you, and wake you if anything happens."

Wei Wuxian *was* beyond exhausted. But he desired to be closer to Lan Wangji, it was just really difficult. They were still kids, in a way. He yawned, but couldn't settle. Lan Wangji could see that it wasn't on purpose, it was like Wei Wuxian's consciousness was stubbornly keeping him up, when Wei Wuxian himself just wanted a good night's sleep. He took Wangji from his back and slowly started to play the song he'd written, the song Wei Wuxian used to communicate that he was still alive in the Burial Mounds.

He played wangxian, humming slightly to his own melody, and watched as Wei Wuxian slowly stopped fidgeting, and finally relaxed, even letting out little snores. Lan Wangji stopped playing, and watched over him slightly, gently moving Wei Wuxian's hair out of his face, before whispering, "I honestly thought you would tell me that you aren't mine to lose. I'm glad you didn't, because that would have been wrong. I want to protect you, Wei Ying. Let me. *Please*."

There was no response, Wei Wuxian was too busy dreaming, and Lan Wangji just sighed with relief. Things would be okay, he'd make sure of it.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part One

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 390 ~ Amelia

It was in my mind to go back the way I had come. To trudge through the heavy undergrowth of a path that was once there, but was now being reclaimed. But putting one foot in front of the other was easier on the road. Perhaps this lazy thought put me precisely where I was meant to be?

The mist was low and thick. The curve of the trees as they lined the asphalt disappeared into the smog. I could scarcely see where each step would take me, although I knew this road even in darkness. The way ahead was shrouded and I was weary. Carrying the heavy load of fire wood on my back and a sadness that had begun to gnaw away at the corpse of my resolve.

I was half a mile away from Grandma's cabin when I heard it. The low thrum of a sound that had no place in the silence which had become my world. Any sound that was not made by my own footsteps was nothing more than a tree in the wind or a creature meandering through the brush in search of food. I hadn't heard anything else in so long that my heart began to pound in my chest.

I knew that I had heard this sound before. It was familiar. And as it grew louder, I could feel the prick of fear at the back of my neck. The clamorous growl of it made me want to start running. Unable to take in a full breath, I started walking with more purpose into the line of trees.

I was never really certain what made me look back. The force of something beyond myself told me that I had to be brave. That if I were to hide, I would walk this earth alone forever more. And so I dropped the fire wood and turned into the mist. Swirls of it catching the golden hue of headlights as they illuminated the white fog.

The deafening screech of tyres on the corner rooted me to the ground. The fleeting moment seemed to pass me by much more swiftly than I would recall it later. All I knew was the streak of red as it crossed my path, the unfathomable look in the eye that caught mine through the windscreen and the way I seemed to know that one of us was going to bleed for it.

I clamped my eyes shut and waited for impact. Certain that the trajectory would bring me to death. And I would greet it as a friend. The intolerable ache of loneliness was all consuming. The days of solitude had etched away at any desire to remain alive. I hadn't known I was ready to die, but in that moment it was a truth I could not deny.

I felt the air sweep past me. The inevitable crash of metal on wood forced my eyes open. Colors of red and black and grey permeated the mist. And I felt the first drop of rain.

A former life that I had not lived in so long was resurrected. My brain seemed to ignite into a frenzy of pathways reconnecting themselves as I ran towards the billowing smoke. Whether it was adrenaline or something outside of myself willing me to strength, I managed to yank the driver side door open and step back as a lifeless body limped over the wheel.

I hadn't seen another soul in so long that I held my breath at the sight of him. A tangle of brown hair and blood, I instinctively moved him back as the scent of fire began to burn. His serenity came from the way it looked as if he was simply sleeping. I was stolen from the urgency of the situation as I began to wonder if he was dead or dreaming. My breath stilled in my chest as I pushed back his blood drenched hair from his brow.

And then he moved. Just a twitch of his eyelid. I frantically pulled off my gloves with chattering teeth, placing fingertips at his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. I clicked his seatbelt open and let his body fall into mine, dragging it into the mud as the wreckage began to blaze.

He let out an agonized groan as he hit the ground. The sound of another human voice sent me into a flutter of panic and relief in equal measure. Lifting his eyelid, I watched for any focus in his irises. Any dilation in his pupils. He didn't seem to be fully conscious, but the way he sucked the air in told me everything I needed to know about the balance of his life.

Lifting his shirt, I could already see the broken ribs against his fight to breathe. The potential for a collapsed lung was high, but without any medical equipment at my disposal I had no other choice than to drag him the half mile back to the cabin.

With the rain beating down beneath the canopy of trees, my hands covered in blood and soil, I felt his body slip from my grasp as I tried in vain to raise him. There was no strength I could muster to get him to his feet, he was like a rag doll. Void of any life that would grant him the strength needed for me to carry him.

Every muscle and sinew in my body fought against leaving him there. To stay with him next to the burning rubble of his car as flames licked up the branches of the broken trees was not an option, either. And I knew that dragging him by his feet would inevitably kill him. Each of those choices ended in him dying, regardless.

I didn't know that I was crying for this stranger until I felt the warmth of salty tears on my lips. I dipped my hand into the pocket at his groin and pulled out his wallet, searching for something with a name.

"Jacob..." I whispered, my own voice coming out of me as if I'd never heard it before.

I had to try. I had to kill him knowing that I'd tried to save him. At least then I could go on in my solitude knowing that I'd tried to end it. That there was a part of me that had wanted to know what it felt like to hold a conversation with another for one last time.

I tied his shoelaces together and took one of the sturdier looking sticks from the fire wood pile and wound it around the laces. Pulling it through the overgrowth that I had tried to avoid, his body trailing behind me over rock and fern until I reached the gravel path towards my dwelling. The weight of him sending shockwaves of pain through my shoulders and arms, rendering me weak and wearier than I had ever thought possible.

How long had it taken? An hour? Possibly two? The rain refused to stop pouring and the wind continued to howl. The mist remained on the forest floor like a blanket of cloud that did nothing to soften his journey. But somehow, I made it. Trembling against cold and fatigue, I pulled this lifeless body up the porch steps and into the sanctuary of my Grandmother's home.

I thought I would have felt something as I stared at him. But within the confines of my familiarity, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again. And I was flushed with fear anew. The questions I so desperately needed answering screamed at me from the back of my mind, not knowing what it meant that someone else had been left behind, too.

There would be time enough for that. I silenced the echoes of my intrusive thoughts and ripped the front of his shirt open. The true extent of his wounds becoming apparent as I ran my hand down his sternum. There was no way of knowing if he was bleeding internally, or if his breakages were life threatening but I was bolstered by his ability to carry on breathing as I ran for my supplies.

I was lost in a flurry of muscle memory as I fitted a canula to the back of his hand. Fixed the saline drip on the stand and managed to get a pillow beneath his head. I gave him a shot of morphine to keep him sedated and wrapped his torso in linen bandages to keep his ribcage from falling apart. I cleaned up the blood from the wound at his temple, stitching it up against the tendrils of long brown hair.

And then I sat.

There was nothing left in me to give. I sat and I stared at him. Taking in the cupids bow of his lips and the strict line of his jaw. The mole on his right cheek and the tiny, almost indiscernible pock scar on his left. I took note of his deep set eyes behind closed lids, the thick brows above them and the way his teeth sat just behind his mouth as his breathing began to settle into a regular pattern.

And then I began to wonder about what sort of man he was. If he was good and kind or if he had a terrible temper. I wondered what stories he had to tell, or if he would want to leave without telling me any of them. I wondered if he had been alone as I had. If his solitude had driven him mad or if he wanted nothing more than to be alone in this empty world.

I wondered if he would try to hurt me. To take my food and my body. And the thought that he would regain his strength and try to force himself upon me was one that made me physically move back from him. Every danger receptor in my body alerting me to something that was entirely perceived.

He was just laying there on the cold, wooden floor. On the flatweave rug that was faded and frayed that had been there since my early childhood and was now tainted with blood stains. He wasn't a threat. There was too much morphine in his blood stream. But still, I found myself concocting a menagerie of thoughts about his character as he laid there, unconscious.

I nervously moved around, building a fire with the last of the wood and cursing myself for not going back for the pile I'd left at the side of the road. I made a pot of tea and kept a watchful eye over him as it brewed. Sipping on it thoughtfully as I sat at the kitchen table, unable to focus my attention on anything but his half naked body.

Eventually, I gave in to the shock and fell asleep with my head propped against my forearm. The gentle crackle of the fire fading away as it burned to embers. And the rain continued to lash against the window, until day turned into night.

Day 392 ~ Jake

The ghost in the mist haunted me. The sight of her in the thickening fog, watching me with those doleful eyes. A dream that wouldn't release me. Repeating over and over until all I could feel was unbearable pain shooting through every inch of my body.

I didn't think ghosts could hurt me. But she was standing over me with a hand on my chest, running her fingers down my throat and ripping my clothes to shreds. I could hear my name on the wind, being whispered somewhere beyond my comprehension. And then there was nothing but eternal darkness. My only sense of reality was the smoke in my lungs that smelled like burning rubber and it would not relent no matter how hard I tried to breathe.

It felt like I had died. And when finally I opened my eyes, I wondered if I'd stepped over the threshold into the place beyond. If I had, then surely I was in hell. All I could see through blurred vision were flames licking high in a roaring fireplace. The heat of it making me sweat. I could feel myself shrouded in something, a blanket? It felt itchy against my skin. I wanted to shuffle free of it but couldn't move. The torture of my body not doing as I willed it was surely a punishment that should have come to me a long time ago.

The ghost of my dreams appeared to me through the flames. Her hand clammy and cool against my brow, her voice soft and low as she soothed my aching moans. I couldn't see her face, only the outline of her as she stood above me. Angel or demon, I couldn't decipher. But I knew I had died. There was nobody left in the world I'd left behind.

"Jacob?"

It was like my head was being lifted out of running water. The muffled drum of my own heart seemed to beat loudly in my ears and then suddenly it was like I'd stepped onto dry land.

"Jake." I mumbled, a habit I'd developed whenever anyone called me by my full name.

My mouth was bone dry. I could feel my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips covered in a sheen of dried saliva as I tried to speak. My head snapped up, panic rising in my chest as I realised I wasn't in my own clothes. I was stitched up and laid out on an old couch in front of a stone fireplace. My ribs felt like porcelain as I tried to sit up, only to find that I couldn't.

"Don't try to make any sudden moves."

She wasn't a ghost. She wasn't a spectre in the mist. I could see her concern laced in her unwavering eyes. Blue as the sky I hadn't seen for days and red rimmed from tears she'd no doubt shed at my expense. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to fluff the pillow behind my head. Heaven nor hell could have prepared me for this. The reality that I had survived.

She placed a glass of water to my mouth and let me drink until the water ran down my chin. Until my parched mouth was satisfied. And then I watched as she retreated to the chair beside the fire, sitting on the edge of it as if my presence made her nervous. Her hands wringing in her lap and a fearful expression on lips she couldn't help but bite.

It had been so long since I had seen another living soul that I was struck by the same uncertainty. Perhaps I would have been more gracious if my body had allowed it, but all I could do was lay there and wonder if me looking at her was the wrong thing to do.

"Where am I?" I asked, my eyes still adjusting to the sombre fire light.

She was considering my question. To be specific or to give me just the right amount of information. Her distrust of me was a little off putting, considering I'd only been unconscious in her company thus far. It felt as if she didn't really want me there, but neither could I simply get up and walk out.

"A few miles outside of Roanoke." She confirmed, "You don't remember anything before the accident?"

I could have lied. But she wouldn't have been comforted either way. It was my presence that was scaring her, not whatever I had to say. I could see her knees bounce up and down where she sat, her chest rising and falling beneath an oversized flannel shirt as she breathed a little harder than usual.

"I remember." I replied, wincing as I tried to shift my weight.

She flew to my side. Despite her fear, she opened the shirt that I was wearing that didn't belong to me and ran careful hands over my bandaged middle. Her touch settled on the fabric, my flesh beneath it screaming out to be held.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked plainly, inspecting me like a book she had never read before.

There were freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"Just my ribs." I replied, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could muster.

"Without access to imaging machinery, I couldn't decipher the extent of the wounds." She said, buttoning up the shirt a little higher than I would have usually worn it. "After I was able to get you out of the car, I had to drag you through the woods. I wasn't sure if you'd sustain more injuries. Luckily, the front of the car took most of the impact. Your body just shattered in the reverb, from what I could tell after I examined you. I was concerned about internal bleeding, but after the first 24 hours I could see that your bruising was from multiple bone fractures. I don't know the extent of those either, but at a guess I'd say there's a fair few. You hit your head pretty hard, too. But I managed to get it stitched up. You just needed fluids after that, and I gave you some sedatives to keep you still. Just in case..."

She traced a finger over the dressing on the back of my hand and peeled it off. The sensation of it drew a swift intake of breath. She rubbed at thumb over the puncture wound where something had been and walked away. Nobody had touched me in what felt like a thousand lives lived in complete solitude. And I almost felt the sting of tears betray me.

"What are you, some kind of doctor?" I jested, although she didn't smile.

"Medical student." She corrected, "I was a few months away from graduation when..."

She didn't seem to want to say it out loud. She lingered in the space between the couch and the chair, eventually throwing the dressing she'd taken off my hand into the fire and stoking it with a heavy looking iron poker that looked out of place in her tiny hands.

"I thought I was the only one left."

My confession drew her back from the fire. A look of intense pain that she couldn't speak of in those blue eyes. She was the reason I was laid up like that, unable to move. I couldn't tell her that, though. That her appearing to me like that through the mist had made me swerve, that she was real and not a figment of my imagination had brought me crashing through the trees.

There was so much I wanted to say. And none of it that I could easily spit out. And she, in return, could not speak to the thing which had brought us to that moment. There was a mounting sadness which seemed to be shared. But she wouldn't let me dwell in hers, I was an outsider.

"You must be starving." She surmised, snapping out of her melancholy.

My stomach ached for food, but I didn't want any. The way she stormed across the room, as if the act of bringing me food was a welcome distraction made me feel a strange sense of guilt.

"No, wait..." I lifted my arm, felt pain shoot through my chest and put it back down.

She stopped at the foot of the couch. Ready to tell me that I wasn't strong enough to be making such bold movements yet, but she remained silent. The look of uncertainty still there, like a third person was in the room with us.

"What can I do for you, Jake?" She asked, so sweetly I almost relinquished myself to the pain just to sit up and get a better look at her.

I settled on the way she looked at me, instead. "What's your name?"

Something she could freely give me. Something she already had of mine that she could reciprocate. Just a simple name, and she smiled right before she gave it to me.

Day 1 ~ Amelia

Christmas never felt quite right in California. I longed for the morning dew of the appalachian woods where the rest of my family were celebrating. The fireside mulled wine and ridiculous conversations that my Mother would have with her Mother. My younger brother fighting with my elder brother over the last cookie, or something equally trivial that never would have been a point of contention if they'd been at home.

At Grandma's cabin we always became children again. That steady tone of her voice as she admonished us was a comfort in adulthood. That I couldn't be there had made my Mother cry, and I couldn't shift the memory of her wiping away tears as my Dad put a careful hand to her shoulder. Only he understood why. And I knew, as I stood clicking my pen at the 4th storey window of UCSF Fresno, that he would be comforting her in my absence.

Dad came from a world of surgeons and lawyers. His family were big on careers, whereas my Mom had grown up the child of appalachian homesteaders. Or doomsday preppers, as Dad so affectionately called them. The two of them colliding at the 1991 birth of Lollapalooza.

It was easy to live in privilege around my Dad. The way he walked me into the most prestigious residency I could have ever dreamed of was not something I could give up just for Christmas. But my Mom was always there to remind me to be humble. That nothing worth having meant a damn if you didn't work for it, and I was determined to work for this place I had found myself in.

"Doctor?"

I slipped my pen back into my coat pocket. As I turned, I caught sight of the little old man standing at the foot of his hospital bed in a mint green gown. His little legs were trembling, his eyes sunken so deeply I could barely make out the color of them.

"Mr. Matheson, I thought I told you to stay in bed?" I tutted, helping him into the chair before his legs gave way.

He was quite adamant that he wasn't getting back into that bed. Pulling me down to meet his milky gaze, the paleness of his cheeks somewhat whiter than they'd been a moment ago.

"I don't feel quite right, Doc." He fretted, batting away my attempts to check his vitals.

"That's because you have liver disease, Mr. Matheson." I replied, keeping my tone accustomed to the teasing manner this particular patient enjoyed. "You remember? You're in the hospital in Fresno."

He would usually spare me a toothy grin. Tell me I was the prettiest Doctor he'd ever seen. That I reminded him of his late wife, except she didn't have freckles on her nose. When he sat there silently, staring through me like I wasn't even there, I took out my pen light and waited for him to follow the glow.

It was as if he had vacated his own body.

"Mr. Matheson?" I chimed, curling my hands around his shoulders in order to shake him back into himself. "Mr. Matheson, can you hear me?!"

He never ate much. He was barely keeping his bones together with what little flesh he had left. He seldom slept. The disease ravaging his body had caused red welts to appear across his flesh, painful to the touch. I swept my hand across his forehead, something which usually caused him to wince in pain. But there was nothing. Not even an errant blink.

"Ok, you're scaring me now." I confessed, hitting the call button with my fist as I laid the old man out on the floor.

Nobody came. The alarm sounded out over a silence I hadn't noticed. There were no clamouring footsteps, no hurried voices.

"Can somebody get in here please?!" I called, damned if I was going to leave this sweet old man on the floor like that. "Hello?! Is anyone there?!"

There had been Christmas music playing from the nurses' station. Visitors coming and going all day. The gentle realisation that there was only the alarm I'd set off myself sounding out sent a blood curdling chill down my spine. I felt it spill like ice down from the nape of my neck until my fingers tingled with it.

I felt a wave of nausea. My body began to feel irrepressibly cold. The essence drained from me.

"Please..." I begged, my voice coming out so thinly it was barely audible. "I need...someone...to help..."

I hit the ground before I finished speaking. My body listless and paralysed. My mind urging myself to move to no avail. I could only stare up at the fluorescent light above, buzzing and flickering on the white painted ceiling. I thought, perhaps, I had worked myself into a psychotic frenzy. That my perception of time was off and that it had only been a second since I hit the call button.

They'd be here any moment, wouldn't they?

The light swallowed me. Rendered me blind. Time lost all meaning. My own heartbeat the only reminder that I existed at all. The tell tale sound of my own breath, like my head was under water, rushing in and out as I tried to move.

I couldn't see my own body. As if I was shrouded in darkness, but where the void should have been black there was only white. Not smoke, nor mist. Not something I could place outside of myself, it was within. And yet, it was beyond me. I could feel it trying to drag me away. Like it wanted me to let it consume me.

I thought that I was screaming. I knew my mouth was moving but there was no sound coming out. I knew that I was fighting something that wanted me to remain still. It wanted me to submit. And it felt as if, for a moment, that I should.

Just let it take me. No more pain. No more struggle. No more life. No more waking up each day alone, the hours of my life dwindling down at a job that was making it hard to find love. No more missed celebrations, seeing the look on my Mother's face when I couldn't be there. Whatever it was that wanted me, let it have me.

My heart began to beat faster. Thrumming harder and harder against my chest, threatening to beat right out of my body. Until all I could hear was the deafening roar of it. Certain that I was dying, I accepted my fate. I stopped fighting it. And the moment I did, everything became abundantly clear.

I opened my eyes. Breathless. Drenched in sweat. Christmas music echoing down the corridor. Every muscle, every sinew robbed of it's strength. My eyes were streaming, like I'd been crying but couldn't recall what it had been about. Utterly broken. But I couldn't remember why.

For the briefest moment I was numbed with amnesia. The sweetest, most pure moment that kept me safe from what I was about to recall. I picked myself up slowly, gathered my composure. A headache pounding away behind my temples that hadn't been there a moment ago.

And Mr. Matheson was nowhere to be seen.

Day 2 ~ Jake

The bottle of tequila my brother had left on the counter was still sitting there, half of it spilled down the kitchen cupboard. As if he'd been pouring it and simply wasn't there to hold it anymore.

The TV was playing static. My parents had been sitting on the couch watching an old movie, their positions still moulded into the scatter cushions. There wasn't a single thing out of place. Even the cars parked in the driveway signalled that no one had left.

Except I was alone. So irrevocably alone that I had burst into the houses nearby in a blind panic, looking for signs that anyone was still there. Every house in a state of eerie abandonment. Like Christmas had been happening until the moment it somehow wasn't.

Music playing. Food left on tables. Spilled drinks. Toys scattered across the floor, wrapping paper littering the space beneath Christmas trees. Like children had been playing with them only a moment ago, until they were inexplicably taken.

And I couldn't bear it. One minute I'd been standing on my parents' front porch, sharing a smoke with my girlfriend after we'd eaten a good meal, feeling content as we talked about our plans for the new year. I thought she was just playing at first, collapsing down the porch steps into a heap at the bottom. I was blinded by the light before I could reach her.

I never did reach her. It was as if I blinked and she was no longer there, the light dissipating into a world void of others. I screamed their names. I ran from house to house, I tore them apart. I told them to quit messing around. Only silence responded.

Like the Marie Celeste. Floating on the sea without a crew to steer her. Warm and inviting, a meal set to be eaten. But none to eat.

Nothing but the remains that they had once been there. And now there was only sadness and a fear I knew would choke me, if I let it.

Part Two

@thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

My Touchstarved MC / OC time

Because I've been saving it for today^-^

[Warning: long rambling, and possibly no editing]

I have come to the point where I view the main LI's as my side characters to my silly little cannon divergent lore. So everything is completely made up, and also I'm going to rewrite my MCs to fit the actual game when it comes out. so there is my disclaimer before I head off into Lala land.

I've made different MCs based on the three backstories you can choose when you enter the game.

The Alchemist (Naudedel)

Hound (Hound)

Unnamed (Noble)

Each is still cursed but each curse takes on a different form or is gained at a different time along the journey to Eridia.

Noble is the one with the original curse from the game. They corrupt the minds of those they touch. Except on rare occasions...

Hound is a by-product of Nobel's hands. Hound is (till they reach Eridia...) the only one who can touch Nobel without punishment. Though she seems to have still retained her sanity, there is one man who refuses to deny the golden veins running under her skin.

Naudedel was an experiment gone rogue. An attempt to create an artificial God gone wrong. Turning his back on his creator, but still tries to reach for a false heaven on his own.

In my little headcanon world, they are all traveling together as a found family. Hound acts as their guardian, Noble is the oldest, Naudy is the weird middle child, and then there is Cetcher, who is a stand-alone OC who was adopted into their little family.

| And here is a little family photo/reference sheet :D - I'll explain the designs later |

Also, designs aren't finalized completely!! (which is why Hound is missing the prosthetic mentioned below)

The General BackStory: part I

Hound meets Noble when they are around six and takes care of them along with the help of her then-husband Cove. The two worked as mercenaries till taking Noble in as their own. The young couple promised to watch over Noble as they travel to Erida to try and find a cure for their curse. Along the way Hound and Cove hit what they called... a rough patch. Which resulted in Cove severing Hound's leg, not before she could take his good arm. Though Hound can't remember much of their life before that fight. She does know that he is still out there, and looking for them. But a swordsman without his dominant hand isn't much concern for her so she pushes on with the child at her side.

That is when they find Naudedel. The prodigy son of a mage who lived at the top of the hill in the remains of a small standing town. The mage was an older woman, but hospitable to the young mother and her child. She was also very taken by Noble after learning about their infliction. And wanted to help them in their journey to Erida seeing she had ties there from her past. This is where Hound was given her prosthetic, fueled by alchemy and mechanics. Noble took a liking to Naudedel despite his moody disposition and the two (to Naudy's dismay) were stuck at the hip during their stay. However, things didn't stay pleasant for long. As if the air changed in the small town, dire truths flowed with it. Hound and Noble soon learned about the true nature of the boy bound to the hill. The 12th experiment, the 12th body that surprisingly hadn't been dropped in one of the many pre-made graves that ran along the hillside yet. "What a resilient boy she's found!" was the last macabre expression Hound was willing to put up with from the townsfolk before marching up that damned hill only to find a darker twist in the doorway. Naudedel was the one to free himself. The one to kill his mother and step off that hill in his own shoes. Hound just happened to walk in front of him. Or at least that's how he is allowed to tell the story.

The now trio continue their journey, arriving in one broken small town to the next. Around the time the young ones are teenagers and Hound is theoretically pushing late 30s yet every familiar face they meet on the road swears she hasn't aged a wink, They start a town riot...

...

However, that's a story for another time. Anyways, the kids adopted Cetcher as their new baby sister. Cetcher worked as an assistant for an apothecary in town. Though assistant is more of a stretch, servant or pet would have been more fitting. The man running the shop treated the child less than an errand boy and refused to elaborate on where he got her. So Naudedel made it his mission to run off with the kid with the ever-so-graceful help of Noble. After convincing Hound to take her in, the glossy-eyed baby joined their one-wagon caravan. With surprisingly great help from Naudedel, Hound taught Cetcher how to read and write, which might have been the start of her greatest joys, at least in the moment.

But they were on their way. And spent another 5 years on the road before getting close to the city. But that was where they would part ways for a year. Naudedel had found a lead to possibly undoing Noble's curse. But it would be out of their way and a possible goose chase. And Due to an unfortunate run-in with a certain swordsman wielding his signature longsword in his non-dominant hand. They needed to get on the move fast. The plan was for Naudedel and Cetcher to go off the path and for Hound to watch over Noble and make it into Eridia safely. This was the plan, but of course, things would never go accordingly. Here we are in the current day, Noble alone in Eridia left in Leander's care, Hound presumed dead, Cetcher lost in the Fogfall, and Naudedel making contracts with deities he is too proud to admit are over his head.

:)

But yes, my cornerstones of my silly found family.

[goodnightmemes]

THE TUDORS SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTER (PART TWO)

s02e06 - s02e10

❛ Will you come to my bed tonight? ❜

❛ You are marrying into a great family. You will do it, whether you like it or not. Do you understand? ❜

❛ Something's going to happen to me. ❜

❛ Don't talk like this. Nothing is going to happen to you. ❜

❛ I'm unable to give a King a son; a son to be the living image of his father. ❜

❛ It's all right. Everything is going to be all right. Please don't cry. I love you. I'll look after you, I swear. ❜

❛ I like you and enjoy your company. But you have a reputation: you gamble and you whore. You sail close to the wind. God forbid it should ever blow you onto the rocks. ❜

❛ I have no doubt what so ever that Your Majesty's reign will always be remembered. ❜

❛ Are you amusing yourself at my expense? ❜

❛ I swear to you it will never happen again. I love you too much. I have no right to ask you to believe me. But it's true. ❜

❛ Is she one of your mistresses? How many do you have? What are their names? ❜

❛ Here's the truth: you must shut your eyes and endure like your betters have done before you. ❜

❛ How can you say that to me? Don't you know that I love you a thousand times more than [name] ever did! ❜

❛ Don't you know that I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you? ❜

❛ This is lucky you have your bed already, madam, because if you did not, I wouldn't give it to you again. ❜

❛ Listen to me. You're the Queen! For the love of God, act like it! ❜

❛ At least seem happy. Not a heap of misery! ❜

❛ It's been tasted. It's not poisonous. ❜

❛ I am not "your dear". I am nobody's "dear!" I am a woman and I demand equal respect for my ideas! ❜

❛ Why are you here? To see the degradation that we have been forced to? ❜

❛ You may kiss me. Then you will leave me alone. Forever. ❜

❛ Anyone can see that the King is not so much in love with her as he used to be. ❜

❛ All this time and you're still in love with her! ❜

❛ Let me look at you. There you are. I have not seen you for so long. An eternity. And here you are! ❜

❛If I had a son, it would bring about a golden world. ❜

❛You ought to be careful, or I will have you cropped at the neck. ❜

❛ I did not bring you up to have opinions or to express them or to quarrel with those closest to the Crown. ❜

❛ I am carrying the King's son. We are on the edge of a golden world! ❜

❛ I'm certainly aware there are some at court who would like to see the queen replaced. ❜

❛ I was married before and I must confess, I rather like the liberty of not being married again. ❜

❛ You have just come from another's bed. No. Do not deny it. ❜

❛ Sometimes, my love, I think that with you I'm already condemned to live in purgatory. ❜

❛ His heart is very weak. I don't know if he will come back to us. ❜

❛ In such a crisis, all could disintegrate. So the centre has to hold, and we must hold it. ❜

❛ You know, I cannot think whether it would be a bad thing or a good thing if he died. ❜

❛ As Lord Protector, you would ipso facto...be King, ❜

❛ Though you are still a young man...you're not as young as you used to be. ❜

❛ I'm so happy you're well. I was so alarmed, so afraid. ❜

❛ It was a mistake to think I could behave like I used to. In any case, those carefree days are gone. ❜

❛ In the future, I won't see you unless your other family members are present. I just had to see you now. ❜

❛ What is this? Just when my belly is doing its business...I find you wenching with Mistress [name]! ❜

❛ You've lost my boy. I cannot speak of it. The loss is too great. ❜

❛ I see now that God will not grant me any male children. ❜

❛ You have no one to blame but yourself for this. ❜

❛ Because the love I bear you is so great...it broke my heart to see you loved others. ❜

❛ It's true what they have whispered. I shut my ears to them, but now I know it to be true. ❜

❛ I will treasure this all my life. And if they ever open my grave, they will find it again, right next to my heart. ❜

❛ You have overreached yourself. Believe me, you have placed yourself in very great danger. ❜

❛ Do you assume I no longer possess the power to crush you? It would be an easy mistake to make. ❜

❛ The king cannot satisfy a woman. He has neither the skill, nor the virility. ❜

❛ We have come so far. No one is going to be allowed to destroy us. No one. Do you understand? ❜

❛ I think we should drink a toast to new beginnings and to new friendships and to a mutually beneficial future. ❜

❛ If your master wants to deal with me, he must first apologize for all his ill treatment of me in the past. ❜

❛ Princes are different from us and are not to be easily understood. ❜

❛ It's come to my notice that some acts of treason and other offenses have been committed by those we loved and trusted. By members of our own court. ❜

❛ I want to tell you in this slippery world, you represent for me all that is innocent, everything that is good, unsullied, uncorrupted. ❜

❛ If anything should happen to me...will you promise to care for my daughter? ❜

❛ Please. For the love you bear our child, have mercy. ❜

❛ After everything we've been to each other. After everything we were. Please. One more chance. ❜

❛ My enemies have poisoned the air with their horrid lies. ❜

❛ I pray God will help me, for there is no truth in these allegations. ❜

❛ Sometimes, in order to defeat evil, one must learn to consort with the devil. ❜

❛ When am I to die? ❜

❛ My lady, I am obliged to tell you that your marriage to the king has been declared null and void. ❜

❛ Tell them to ready the horses. But tell no one of our destination. ❜

❛ I hear you say I will not die before noon. I am sorry for it, for I thought to be dead by that time and past my pain. ❜

❛ Yes, I heard the executioner was very good. And in any case, I have only a little neck. ❜

❛ Have you ever killed someone? What did it feel like? ❜

❛ I would really like to see someone die. Can I go to the execution with you? ❜

❛ I want her dead. I want it over with. Finished. Go and do it or, by God's blood, you will join her. ❜

❛ I swear to you, from tomorrow, everything will be different. We will be young and merry as we used to be. ❜

❛ If you would take my advice for what it's worth find a rich man to marry who is too stupid to know anything about politics. Then perhaps - unless you die in childbirth, which is likely...or the plague, which is almost inevitable - then you will be happy. ❜

❛ Forgive me. It's just that I so much want a new beginning. A renaissance. Sometimes it is hard to be reminded of things. ❜

❛ Tell me, was it all worth it? ❜

[mysticstarlightduck]

Writing Share Tag!

Thanks for the tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!!! I'll go with a scene from the Ch.1 of Scrapyard Boys, Adahm's POV.

Sinew and bone crunched under his fist as it connected to the soldier's face throwing the man across the room, nose split, blood coating the floor making it slick. Adahm chuckled, shaking his fist off the impact and watching the man crush the furniture behind him - he could hear the others, footsteps stomping on the stairs just outside, guns cocking. But he didn't rush - oh, no, no, no.

Adahm took his time.

Twirling his dagger for a moment, he slowly crept closer to the fallen merc, stepping over the dismembered body of his previous victim. The man didn't look so menacing now that he was scrambling back, limbs flaying over the broken chips of wood that once were the hotel's bedside table. "N-no, no! Please," The merc begged, his back hitting the wall - the gun in his hand clicked pathetically, no bullets left to shoot, "Look. We…we can settle on somethin'! I'll leave, you can get all the m-money from the bounty, 5 million dollars, all yours." He saw the man smile anxiously, trying to bargain, "Y-you don't have to kill me!"

Adahm didn't stop, his boots breaking the shattered bits of glass on the floor as he continued to stalk closer, his face unreadable except for his emotionless smile. The soldier had nowhere to go, his stupid decision to come after them had sealed that fate. He could still hear the other soldiers getting closer and closer as he crouched over this one, tracing the side of the man's cheekbone with his dagger, a feather-like touch.

"I don't want the money," Adahm said, voice a honeyed, but almost disembodied whisper, tilting his own head as the man flinched away from the tip of his knife, "That's not the issue. It never was. The problem is that you and your crew are looking for someone who doesn't belong to you. I know you work for the labs - I know they paid you to take my brother from me, didn't they? To cut him up, chop him up like a little guinea pig for Vhoss' studies."

The merc shuddered, shaking his head vehemently while the words fell dead on his lips, scrambling to try and deny the question, but the truth was undeniable. Adahm scoffed, his eyes scanning the man's struggle almost pityingly, before his grip on his knife tightened, "See? There you have it. And you know that I just can't let that happen," The young man's voice was a bitter chuckle, leveling his knife for the man's neck, almost sounding disappointed, "You never should've come after him."

Before the merc could react, Adahm plunged the dagger into the man's throat, silencing his pleas as he twisted the blade up into his skull, before stabbing the limp body again, again and again. Once he was satisfied, he leaned forward onto the blade, catching his breath in ragged gasps before he ripped the knife off the man's shredded chest and stumbled into his feet.

His ears twitched towards the sounds - the soldiers were in the hallway now, almost behind him. He ran a bloodstained hand through his long strands of hair, pushing it out of his face as he turned to the door, standing behind it like a haunted house animatronic. and started counting.

1 second. The men moved closer, their movements calculated - he could hear the clinking of their rifles against kevlar suits that wouldn't save them now - he chuckled. 2 seconds - they stopped somewhere down the hallway, their captain barking orders, and Adahm's smile widened, revealing bloodied fangs, his thin mouth a snake's maw. 3 seconds - and as they moved into the room, his shrill, snake like hiss was the last thing any of those mercenaries would ever hear as he pounced in for the kill.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

Taglist for Scrapyard Boys below the cut 🧪

Scrapyard Boys Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3,

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri, @lyutenw @finickyfelix

@thecomfywriter, @the-letterbox-archives, @differentnighttale @wyked-ao3

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[purplemoonabove]

Beautiful, an Angel Dust x Husker/Husk One-Shot

One chapter only

Wrote it as a writing prompt – “Beautiful”

Inspired by that romantic scene in Fresh Prince. When Philip was describing how beautiful Vivian (the first one) was, the two standing in front of a body mirror. Such a beautiful scene if you haven’t seen it yet!

Light uses of swearing/cursing

Husk’s POV

.

.

.

Beautiful.

It was the first word that popped in his mind.

He would deny it out loud in avoid embarrassment, but in his mind, the truth was loud and clear.

He looked beautiful — He is beautiful.

A part of him then thought of a funny: how a common drug name, used currently for an adult film stage name, can also be how it was done.

Angel.

Dust.

A blessing from an unknown substance that’d be an irritation but actually owned an effect upon physical contact. No allergies, no congestion, no skin damages. He wasn’t sure if the latter would be possible. Decades in the current life and appearance made human skin a shedded layer for a new type to grow and life with. Angel was no different, even with multiple arms and eyes and owning a venom that was rarely exposed through a bite.

It was, as if, an amplification to the actor.

Keeping him as beautiful as he may have been when alive in his new demonic form.

Could he even call him demonic? Is ‘demon’ even a good term to describe? Before it’d be an annoyance – a mask that hid the true spider man’s nature – but now was a new direction: being a proud loser like himself.

Just more beautiful, at that.

“Kitty~”

Even his voice was beautiful, the thought expressed before blinking a return to reality. The spider sat upon his stool by his multi-lit vanity table. His breath-taking, neon-colored heterochromia eyes gazed with curiosity and humor towards him.

He smirked, the golden tooth sticking out.

“Like what you see~?”

Such a skill in teasing and enticing someone to be in his temperate possession was an act Husk would always avoid – in the past. With a soft chuckle, he rose from sitting at the side of the bed to go over.

“Can you blame me?” He returned, not even denying him. Not this time, ever since the new change of relation.

Angel giggled then waved a spared hand. “Nah, I know I’m gorgeous.”

The smirk stayed as he resumed on his powder work at the cheek. Only to waver in further curiosity, his hand slowing to a stop as clawed hands laid and held in a gentle touch on his shoulders.

Golden eyes stared at the pink through the mirror’s reflection, connected as the winged cat lowered his head.

“You’re much more than that,” Husk purred in his ear. Reaction was immediate: the back straightened, his eyes widened, a hint of red came under the furred cheeks, and the powder puff laid correctly in the container without notice.

Fucking cute.

“I see a young man right before my very eyes, who made it impossible to compare. Sweet fluff of fresh snow, with a gazing of melted pink diamonds to form such hearts. Eyes so breathlessly hypnotic through emotions and appearance. Hands to hold more than expected, feeling the love and care in every grasp. And a smile… Oh, that beautiful smile that brings just a little bit of color into this red, dark world.”

“Fuck.”

Angel broke away, turning to hide but Husk can easily see behind the covering hand the growth of said smile and redness that became a line over his nose.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

Angel didn’t turn, wanting to lower his head to hide under the table.

“Husk–”

One hand released the shoulder to grab the closest cheek, carefully turning until the red and bashful spider made contact to his reflection again.

Husk smiled, and whispered his repeat.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

The request was short-lived when Angel’s eyes shut tight.

“Argh!”

It was the only warning before Husk felt slightly winded, then adjusted with a chuckle as the spider pressed his make-up face into his bare, fluffy torso. The four arms wrapped about him as they would when cuddling, only with a grip due to the embarrassment.

“I like grumpy Husk better!” Angel complained into his chest, muffling. “I’m not used to this shit! When did you get all ‘romantified’ or some shit?!”

Husk release a long laugh that vibrated his being. One clawed hand gentle raked through the massive hair, already washed and combed before.

“I think I’ve always had it when alive and all,” he confessed, then shrugged. “Guess there was no reason for me to do it again when dead… until now.”

The arms tightened. Husk smiled.

“Do you want me to stop?” He then asked, the raking at a pause for the answer.

“… No…”

The hand moved towards the chin, lifting Angel’s pouting and red face.

Such a precious gem you are. I’m so lucky.

“So beautiful.”

Angel scrunched up his nose, the red practically burning. “Husky!”

Future complaining was forgotten once Husk sealed their lips for a well-deserved kiss. Relaxation being instant, Angel’s top arms went to wrap around his neck while the bottom two stayed put, but loosened during. With Angel soon getting up, Husk got his own arms to wrap at the small waist, their bodies held close with no desire of letting go.

At a moment of oblivious time, their lips eventually pulled away, but allowed a brushing at contact.

There, Angel whispered with a content smile.

“Thank you, Husk.”

…

I can’t get enough of these two. Weeks of them and I can’t stop! 😍

[aliveinacoffin]

Request

Hi I was thinking if you could do aizawa having a sibling or daughter. Like a younger sister or daughter who he teaches and do some type of angst with them. Like him not paying much attention to her or she’s caught doing something (like smoking,drugs). Something like that. Thank you☺️

Ofc! This seems so sad, idk if you wanted angst and comfort so I just made it angst/no comfort 😭

My Own Mirror

I don't know if you wanted this to be a reader insert so I decided to just make it third person and give the little guy a nickname. as always, should be around 1k words!

TW for w33d smoking, mention of eating problems, mentions of childhood abuse, mentions of parent death, and suicidal ideations.

The cold bitter air was a grounding feeling on the young woman's flesh. Her fingers curled around the blunt she had, the smoke disappearing into the night air. The pleasant haze was soon to take over her mind, something to finally take the stress away from her life.

The headache she had from her too tight ponytail or from the lack of water and food or from her classes.

Her life was already shit enough, with shit parents and an even shittier school experience. Her quirk gave her no physical advantages at all. Her strength, smarts, and speeds were purely human. The only thing she could rely on was her absolutely atomic quirk.

When she makes skin-to-skin contact with a quirk user, she can paralyze them for up to twenty minutes if she really tried. For non-quirk users, it was up to ten. Which was great since the victim had no option but to stay frozen in that same exact spot, but horrid when you realize that most heroes and villains had some sort of superhuman ability.

The raven haired girls spiraling thoughts stopped when her mind fully succumbed to the familiar haze of her old friend. Sighing, she put out the rest of her blunt and flicked off the tiny piece that was left. She watched it fling across U.A grounds, landing on the perfectly manicured lawn. She turned back to her room, locking the door behind her.

___________________________________________

"Now, I will make this clear since there was evidence of smoking on school grounds. Smoking, of any kind, is absolutely prohibited. If you are caught even within 50 feet of a cigarette butt, it's automatic expulsion." Aizawa Shouta's voice was clear and stern.

His dark eyes scanned the room of young future heros, spending equal time looking at each one. When his black eyes matched with golden ones, he quickly looked away.

The young woman had to keep the hair on her body from becoming hard points that gravitated towards the ground.

"Now, on with the assignment for the day." The cold teacher turned towards the chalkboard and started to write whatever hero ethics problems they had.

___________________________________________

"Aizawa-sensei, I was wondering if you could help me with this problem." Her voice rang out, just as monotone as his.

Shouta sighed, looking up at the younger version of him through tired eyes. Even though Aizawa was a common last name, it was hard to deny the fact that the young girl wasn't related to him. They had the same dark hair, the same dry humor, their looks were almost identical, and their quirks were only offshoots of the other. Even their eyes were the same, both of them turning a beautiful golden hue when they used their quirks.

Though, of course, many people were wrong in their assumptions. Most people thought that she was the older man's child. Thus, many affectionately gave her the title 'Little 'zawa' truly, a creative breakthough.

In truth, she was his younger sister. Way, younger sister. Even though both of them had been accidents, something both their parents had constantly reminded both, she was even more of a mistake than Shouta.

Still, his mini me shuffled closer to his desk, awkwardness filling her entire body. He had been thirteen when she was born, already going through puberty, and was ready to get out of the house when she had been born. To say they never had a good relationship was an understatement. The loss of his friend only estranged the two of them more.

"Make this quick, I have lots of papers to grade." Aizawa was blunt and to the point. Barely giving her a second glance as he went back to scratching off red marks on poor students' hard work.

Resentment filled her once again, anger curling up fast and hot in her. He had always made it clear that the two of them weren't close, that they had no personal relationship except matching parentage and had the unfortunate to end up in the same class.

"I was just struggling to understand question nine, and I needed further clarifying-" She started, trying to keep her brows from furrowing.

"I explained that in class, weren't you paying attention? I don't have the time to explain myself twice for everything I say." He was exasperated, simply put off by the entire interaction.

"It's just one question. Would it kill you to just talk to me?" Anger got the better of her, and the assignment she had crinkled under her fist. She moved to try and put herself in his line of vision and slammed her hands on top of his desk. "Are you that ashamed of me?"

In a quick movement, Shouta stood up to his towering height over the girl, eyes dark and mouth set in a harsh frown. "That's no way to speak to your teacher. Now you should leave before I give you detention." He had one hand on the armrest of his rolly chair, clenching the poor handle with all his might.

She glared at him, mirroring his expression before she started to blink away the rapidly forming hot tears. She made a quick turn on her heel, wadding up the assignment before chucking it into the trash bin by the door. "Thanks for the help, sensei!" Her angry voice yelled out to him as she disappeared down the hallway.

Aizawa sighed deeply, collapsing onto the chair and holding his aching head in his hands.

___________________________________________

Just as always, the sunset makes way for the moon to rise. The stars were no longer covered in the bright light of the sun, constellations, and milky ways soon were revealed in the dark night sky.

And just as always, little 'zawa found herself back on her balcony. She had some comfort with the makeshift overhead and the sheen blanket she had set up around it.

The remnants of her current activity lay around, little flakes of her weed staying untouched on her metal tray, her grinder next to it. Little sheets for her blunts gently swaying in the light breeze.

The only thing that gave herself away to anyone else was the smoke that occasionally bloomed up in the air.

Playing on her phone, her blunt fingernails tap tap tapping in the quiet night, sporadically inhaling her cure-all. She failed to notice the dark figure standing on her balcony.

Someone loudly cleared their throat, loudly and obnoxiously.

The sounds startled the girl, and panic seized her so badly that she dropped her phone and her blunt. Her head snapped with wide eyes finding the source of her interruption.

"Shit."

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Aizawa said simply, face set in a disappointed scowl.

At those words, something in the girl's mind snapped, like a rubber band finally giving up after being stretched and forced too far.

"What else could I say? You won't listen to me either way, you hardly even spare a glance my way! When Mom died, you weren't even there. I had to sort her will all by myself, I had to plan her own funeral, and you left me to deal with Dad. You left me all alone, Shouta, do you even know who I am?" She sobbed, fat crocodile tears rolling down her face while her hands painfully clutched at her beating heart. Her hot face scrunched up at her older brother's form. "The only way I feel normal, where I don't want to just jump off a bridge is by getting fucked up."

There was a beat of silence, only the sounds of the youngest Aizawas crying could be heard.

"I'm sorry I was born and I'm sorry I ever came into your life." She said quietly, voice horse and barely above a whisper.

She looked up at her teacher, her older brother, a stranger through teary eyes.

The whole time Shouta had just been staring at her with an icy stare, "No, I have no idea who you are." He said, shoulders drooping, his eyes fluttering as he looked away.

Almost ashamed.

[senditcolton]

Talk

a/n: i actually really love writing for EJ. so here’s some more of him! sort of a prequel to this blurb from my last birthday celebration. hope you all love sunshine/golden retriever EJ.  word count: 1.5k warnings: dirty talk + implied smut (basically the proposition of the act but not the act itself). feminine reader this time!

I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things I would do.

“Looking good, sweetheart.”

You hear EJ before you see him and your shoulders heave in a sigh as you cast an exasperated glance in Nate’s direction. You knew he was going to be here; it was Colorado’s charity brunch after all so of course the entire team was in attendance. But still, that didn’t mean that you had to interact with EJ.

At least, not right now.

So, you sigh again before spinning around in your chair, your eyes darting up to his face. And to your unfortunate surprise, he looked hot; in his casual suit, the top few buttons tastefully undone, his blonde hair artfully ruffled.

“Thank you, EJ,” you say, your voice dry, not at all willing to let him or anyone else sitting at your table know how much this man managed to fluster you.

You think that your forced politeness would be the end of it as you turn back to continue the conversation that you were having with Nate, your friend who was responsible for bringing you here. But you should’ve known that Erik wasn’t going to give up that easily and your body bristles when you feel him settle into the chair next to you, his voice sounding again.

“Woah, being nice to me? That’s a surprise,” he laughs. You roll your eyes in Nate’s direction, an action that was met with a scolding glance from your best friend, silently telling you to behave. Which you always do. EJ just never made it easy for you.

You turn back towards Erik, finally giving him your full attention and plaster on a smile before responding.

“We’re at a charity event. I gotta be on my best behavior.”

EJ doesn’t give you a verbal response at first, just shoots you that ridiculously goofy grin. The two of you back off each other for a moment, turning your attention to the delicious food in front of your and the conversation surrounding you. However, the peace only lasts a minute until you feel Erik lean over towards you, his voice quiet.

“I prefer you on your worst behavior.”

The way his voice drips with desire and passion makes you falter, almost dropping your fork. The glare you send in his direction does not discourage him. In fact, judging by that stupid smirk that remains on his face, it seems as if he actually enjoys it.

Which, after spending a few too many nights tangled in his sheets and in his arms, you know that was the truth.

Yes, you were sleeping with Erik. What started as an accident turned into a full-blown habit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Somehow, this obnoxious golden retriever of a man snuck his way into your life and it was now hard to shake him off.

Although, the two of you did promise that you would keep your ‘status’ quiet in front of your friends and the rest of the team. But here was EJ, flirting with you at a team sponsored event.

You swear you could throttle him.

In an attempt to settle your skipping heartbeat and ground yourself to the present moment, you turn your head, cracking your neck as you brush off his words, not wanting to encourage him anymore. Erik doesn’t take the hint and it isn’t long until you feel a strong hand land on your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin through the fabric of your dress.

“I love how this dress looks on you,” Erik whispers again, his fingers caressing the silk. “I think I’d like it better if it was on my bedroom floor.”

You once again stiffen in your chair and glance around, eyes jumping between the others sitting at your table. Thankfully, they are distracted by their own conversations that no one has seemed to notice how close Erik has gotten to you. You are grateful for their ignorance, not only for the proximity of your bodies but also the undeniable rise that EJ’s words pull out of you.

“I wish I woke up with you in my arms this morning. We could’ve snuck in a quick fuck before we had to come here,” Erik continues, his hand moving higher on your thigh, calloused fingers dragging the soft material of your dress up.

“Or maybe we would’ve made up an excuse not to come so I could have spent all morning with my head between your thighs. You taste sweeter than anything on this table.”

There is no stopping the pounding of your heart and the rush of heat that pools as Erik’s hand slips underneath your skirt, his warm hands finally coming into contact with the soft skin of your inner thighs, lightly gripping the flesh as his hand continues to sneak closer to your aching core.

“Do you like the sound of that?” he questions, no doubt in response to the heat he can feel radiating from your center. “What if I just took you here, in front of all our friends? Let them know how weak you get for me. How loud you moan for me.”

You force yourself to suppress the full body shudder that runs through your body as Erik’s fingers just barely caress the edge of your underwear. Your thighs instinctively widen to give him more access and you hear the small chuckle that rumbles from him – a sound that you immediately want to smack out of him. He shouldn’t get the satisfaction of pulling this reaction from you.

Two can play at this game.

“You know I love hearing you,” EJ states, his fingers moving again to brush against the front of your core. “But you think you can stay silent for me now?”

Without thinking, one of your hands fly down to grip his wrist, halting his movements and lightly pushing him away from you, his hand retreating to rest on your upper thigh. You look over to him and when your eyes connect to his, you can see the question in his eyes and a twinge of guilt. The worry that he might have taken things too far is painted in his expression but you are quick to silence those fears with a mischievous grin of your own.

There was no hesitation from you when your other hand falls from the tabletop to land on his thigh, squeezing the strong muscle there and your smirk just widens when you hear the small gasp on EJ’s lips.

“Can you?” you ask, hand trailing up, following a very similar path as the one that Erik traced up your own thigh. “Don’t lie to me EJ. You try to act all suave and smooth but really, you just want me to drop to my knees in front of you.”

You can feel his grip on your own thigh tighten as your hand creeps up over the soft material of his dress pants. It isn’t long until your fingertips reach out to barely trace the side of his cock, half hard from both his teasing and yours.

“Does that turn you on baby? The idea of me looking up at you from the pretty tiled floor. You know it would be one way to keep me quiet. But if we were in that position, I don’t think I’d be the one who would struggle staying silent.”

Your words are almost instantly proven as you get bolder and place your hand over his bulge, softly palming him underneath the tablecloth and you smirk as you watch Erik disguise a moan as a cough, reaching out to take a drink of his water. You giggle, your own hand withdrawing to mirror his, resting heavy on the top of his upper thigh.

“Shall we see? Make it a contest? See which one of us can keep their composure at this beautiful charity event while we do the most sinful things in the bathroom?”

The proposal lingers there for a moment before the words truly register with EJ, his head whipping to face you and you can’t stop the genuine laugh that falls from your lips at the eagerness shining in his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Only if you are.”

You watch as Erik’s eyes register the sincerity in your words and those beautiful grey irises dart from your own down to your lips and back again.

“God, I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers and you can’t stop your heart from softening at his gentle declaration. It is short-live though as the smile on your face twists again, returning to that playful smirk.

“Men’s room. 10 minutes. Then you can kiss me all you want.”  

EJ’s only response is another firm squeeze on your thigh before he is practically bounding out of his seat and you once again have to swallow a giggle at his obvious excitement. Your eyes follow his trek to the back hallway where the bathrooms were located.

You shake your head slightly, taking another drink and reorienting yourself to your surroundings. You make small talk with some of the others at the table before you are politely excusing yourself, your own desire rushing through your body as you follow Erik’s path.

This was a shit idea.

Didn’t stop you from wanting it though.

[theunsweetenedtruth]

Promises (5)

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Ada Moore (OC)

AN: Originally written in 2018

They were seated across the room from each other, putting some much needed distance between them. Ada needed to have her mind clear of Erik and having him close, his touch, his smell, sent her into a tailspin. She wasn't that woman he left behind and she wasn't willing to fall back into old habits. Half truths and omissions wouldn't do anymore. At best she'd get her answers and they could move forward as co-parents. At worst, Erik would be on his bullshit. Ada expected a mixture of the two.

She could tell the distance between them irritated Erik. He was seated in the armchair, his legs spread, hands clenched on his thighs. His eyes roamed the room, looking at the person effects he recognized from their old place mingled with new pieces. He looked uncomfortable at the signs of a continued life, one without him.

"You owe me an explanation Erik," Ada started after a few moments of awkward silence. She expected push back but Erik just nodded. It was true and he couldn't deny it.

So he started with Klaue and the robbery of the museum, killing Klaue and heading to Wakanda. He talked about how he was king for all of forty-eight hours before T'Challa's return. When he spoke of wanting to die on the mountain, more tears welled up in Ada's eyes and he crossed the room to kneel at her feet.

"T'Challa offered to save me," Erik said annoyance in his voice, "but I thought it would be more heroic to just die there. My mission was complete, I didn't think I had anything to live for." Ada sobbed and closed her eyes. "But then I kept thinking about you, and how I promised I would come back. I ain't never broken a promise to you so I let them heal me." He caressed her cheek and she nuzzled into his hand. "I've been there this entire time, getting my head right and trying to get people to trust me." Erik scoffed. "They still don't trust me but T'Challa does and they trust him. I'm the protector of Wakanda now, the Golden Jaguar. I'm like an advisor because I know shit about how the world works that none of them do. They want to do things the peaceful way and I'm there to make sure they don't get screwed in the end. But as soon as I was allowed to leave Wakanda, I wanted to see you first. Ada, you're the only thing that kept me going. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you for this," he gestured to her belly, "but I'm gonna be there from here on out."

He pressed a tentative hand to her stomach, his thumb stroking. "Why didn't you let me know when you'd made it?" Ada asked. She was still unsure. Yes his story made sense but Erik was a man of action, not words. She was waiting for him to prove his words.

Erik swallowed roughly. "I was in a rough place when I got there. Nothing made sense to me but making sure I got revenge on the people that made our lives hell. But I would've come once I had full control of Wakanda. People were resistant even though I'd killed their king. My two days as king was a pain in the ass," he joked. But Ada wasn't in a laughing mood.

"So...what now?"

"Well I have an obligation to Wakanda. My freedom in the U.S. is based on my commitment as advisor. So I was hoping that you would want to come home with me."

"Erik...I don't know." His face fell and Ada hated the power he still seemed to have over her. "I can't just move to another country. My life is here, my job is here."

Erik stood up and began pacing back and forth. "What kind of life is it?" he spat at her. "You don't have anyone and you wouldn't have to work if you came with me."

Ada rose to her feet to block his path. "It's a life I created. It doesn't have to make sense to you but I'm not ready to jump back into our shit with you!" Erik went to interrupt but she held up a hand. "You had your chance and it's my turn now." She swallowed, wanting to get her point across without hurting him.

"When you left, I thought my world was collapsing. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. You're right that I have no one because I dedicated my entire being to catering to you when you were home and wondering when you would come back when you were gone." Erik averted his eyes from hers. "You were selfish with me and you kept me to yourself and I allowed you to. You lied a lot and left shit out and I let you. But when I found out I was pregnant I had more to live for besides you and someone else who needed me to dedicate my time to. So I figured this shit out. And you don't get to come back and make demands of me. I'm not that person. I can't be that person. I have someone else I have to put first and you need to earn my trust again."

Ada was out of breath at the end of her monologue and Erik was standing there clenching his fists again. Abruptly, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

"Of course you fucking leave when you don't get your way, asshole," Ada muttered under her breath.

Two hours later, Erik walked back into the apartment wearing regular clothes and carrying a duffle. Ada stood in the kitchen washing her dinner dishes.

"What's with the bag?"

He slowly met her eyes. "You said you weren't coming with me and I can't earn your trust halfway around the world. So I'm gonna crash here, if that's alright with you?" He arched an eyebrow at her. She nodded, shocked at him acting like an adult. He crossed to the couch–the same one from their last apartment–and began pulling equipment from the bag. Ada watched in disbelief; he was really there in her apartment, setting up what looked to be his home office, wanting to get to know this new version of her and earn her trust. She was already impressed at his nerve but she tried to beat it back. And her hormones.

Erik looked just as good, if not better than when he left. Him being back in Ada's space, suffocating her with his presence had her ready to lay on her back and spread her legs open for him. His dominating aura and smell was setting her body off. She thought pregnancy had gotten rid of any libido she'd had but all she had to do was get her baby daddy in the room again.

"Plus I figured you look about ready to have that baby," he continued, interrupting her thoughts. "It's not safe for you to be alone here."

"What about your job?" She came around to perch on the arm of the couch, watching him type codes into the laptop.

"It's fine. I let T know what was going on. I can advise from here."

"Okay...I'll, uh, get you some sheets for the couch."

"Cool," he said meeting her eyes. Ada felt like he could see through her, to where she was suppressing her desires for him. They were bubbling up to the surface and ready to explode. Ada jumped up from her seat to gather the linens for him, breaking eye contact in the process.

When she returned with blankets, he'd stripped down to just his boxers, his ring on his chain glinting in the light of table lamp. Ada swallowed roughly before setting the blankets the chair farthest from him working on the computer and turning to escape to the relative privacy of her bedroom.

"Hey," Erik called out. Ada turned back to him in question. "What are we having?"

She smiled. "It's a girl."

His face softened before he cleared his throat and ducked his head back into his work.

"Cool," he resumed typing. "Goodnight, Ada."

"Goodnight, Erik."