#and stares at it for like hours on end til it fades

[pines4thetwin]

Stan being a freak about Fords hands.

Staring at them, touching them when Fords asleep, imagining its them when he touches himself. Just being obsessed with em.

He definitely jerks off thinging about those six fingers wrapping around his throat, gripping his hips, thighs, stomach, ass.

It gets harder and harder for him to pretend to be normal about them. He almost looses it one day when him and Ford get into an argument and Stan walks away. Ford grabs his arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Stanley." Ford had basically growled out.

Safe to say, Stan fantasies about that moment for a while. His own fingers pressing into the bruise while he fucks his hand or fingers himself and plays those words on repeat in his head, imagining the argument ending a bit differently.

[simpjaes]

JAKE... SLEEVELESS... IN THE POOL... pls write something i beg u

wc: 952 warnings: public fingering, ex boyfriend jake, he's kind of a dick [he didn't wanna be seen w u previously] [visual stimulation]

Water vs. wet.

You thought they were the same thing. Really, you didn't think anyone would be able to tell the difference while floating around trying not to ogle your ex boyfriend from too long ago.

It's not even that you want to fuck him, it's just that it's...him. Seeing him brings back the memories of all the wild and sleepless nights, hungover mornings, and messy afternoons.

Sure, he's not exactly a green flag, but in the moment he doesn't look so red either. Not with the way his arms flex when he wades around with that stupid snide smile on his face, stealing glances at you just to see if you're looking at him.

The difference between this water and the difference between being wet is that...well. You're wet in more ways than one. Sure, there's cool droplets running down your shoulders, just like the ones dipping and sliding down the lines of Jake's muscles, but there's also the other wet.

You feel it between your legs. Thicker than water, slipping down your folds in these bikini bottoms in an embarrassing reminder of who it is that does this to you, warmer than the water. If anyone were to walk up behind you and cup their hands over your core, they'd know. But no one would do that.

Except, someone definitely would. You stay in the pool as long as Jake does, wading around and pretending you're not dripping. Anyone else in this water would be horrified, surely, but not Jake. Not you.

It was always fun to be messy, dirty, and unashamed of it. Behind closed doors of course.

By the time night begins to take hold and you're still wading around, across the pool from Jake and being caught in the act of staring far too many times in the past hour and half since you've dipped in, he appears to be fed up with gawking.

Fed up with putting on a show. Fed up with pretending he doesn't miss fucking around with you. The pool lights shine from under him as the sun fades, still enough light from above to give him a warm glow. His hair half dry, the ends of his strands dripping, his muscles protruding and smile glistening and wide. You can't just look away, your mind racing in the realization that he's coming up to you. Like so many times before, when it was normal and expected for him to come up to you. It feels familiar when it shouldn't, thrusting you into the mindset of the smart-girl persona you had during that first year of college. Perhaps you haven't grown as much as you thought you had, especially when he's just as bold as he's always been. He touches you before he says anything, wading around you until his chest is to your back and his arms wrap around your waist as if the two of you never broke up in the first place. "You're not very subtle about it." You can hear his smile against your ear when he says it, dropping his head to prop on your shoulder. "You miss me?" You nod to him, all while breathing out a small "no." The feeling of his arms, bigger than before, making you feel the same comfort and intense need to cling to him. "Always were so bad at communicating too." He chuckles against you, pulling you closer against him and intentionally pressing his hips up, lining his length up with your ass. He's wearing shorts, hell, he's wearing a shirt too, goddamn him. But ah, that. That's still the same delicious size. You remember how hard he'd get himself for you, letting you ride him til he's dizzy and drowsy like he had no power to stop you. He was always bold, but never this confident. You remain silent against him, trying to ignore the people all around the pool and wandering in and out of the house. These things are expected at a senior college party, but still, you and Jake never were too crazy out in the open like this. In fact, you and Jake were never even supposed to be seen as an item at all. "Oh, suddenly you're okay with being seen with me?" You bite back at him, your body still betraying you in the way you hold his arms against you like you used to do in bed when he'd cuddle you. "Mhm." He smiles, walking backwards in the water with you in his grasp, up until his back is against the pool wall. "I was still thinking like a high schooler back then, not sure why I ever broke up with you." Ouch, your heart. You'd managed you get over him months ago, still took far too long though. "And you still stare at me like you could punch me in the face." Jake laughs this time, shaking one arm from your grip to trail down, cupping his hand to the seat of your bikini bottoms. "We always fucked instead, remember?" You can only nod at his boastful reminders. All those times where he'd blow you off in the hallways that first year of college. He needed a new image after all, one that you weren't part of. But goddamn, his hands are the only ones that know how to work you, especially when he's gently slipping a finger under your bikini and sliding only slightly. "Always got so wet too, just like this." He laughs almost as if he's mocking you for being so turned on by him. "You still want me?" You shake your head, ultimately trying to pull from him now, but he slips his finger in quickly, moaning against your ear with a tighter grip. "C'mon," He encourages your deep inhale to release in any sort of sound. "I'm letting everyone see now, aren't I?"

[sam-loves-seb]

look. I know there are probably a million and a half takes on this, but I had this thought, and it wouldn’t leave my brain, so now you have to deal with it too.

ian is not the sun.

ian is the moon, and mickey is the sun.

mickey is the sun, at least in ian’s eyes he is, because ian’s whole world starts ends and revolves around his husband. the pull mickey has on him feels like a gravitational orbit, stronger than any crush or infatuation ever has been, and no matter how much distance (physical and metaphorical) ian puts between them, he always—always—comes back to mickey. and mickey, well he burns hotter and brighter than just about anyone else they know, all barely checked temper and hot seething rage, and hell hath no fury like a mickey scorned because he will burn you faster than any fire ever could. and god, his eyes���do not get ian started on mickey’s eyes—they’re as blue as a cloudless sky on a summer’s day, all warm and wide and vast as the horizon, and ian could stare at them for hours the way he’d stare up at the sky in the backyard as a kid. and yeah, maybe sometimes you can’t look directly at mickey, like maybe you’ll get hurt if you stare for too long, but ian’s best friends are a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of spf, so he’s not exactly new to the sun game, and if he’s the only one who knows how to handle it—that’s more than fine with the both of them

and ian—ian is the moon the way mickey needs air to breathe, because yeah, maybe he’s all smiley and lukewarm to everyone he fucking meets, but that’s not ian, not the real ian, that’s just good fucking manners or whatever shit ian says, but mickey doesn’t care about that. mickey cares about the ian that’s only for him, the one that is there for him through everything, even the bad shit, like the little sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains on a really dark night, the little bit of comfort that’s enough to get him through the dark times and keep going until morning, like the guiding light on the sidewalks when he wanders home from work or the alibi or whatever late at night when the streets are empty and he’s alone. because mickey’s never really alone, not now that’s for sure, but not even then, when there were miles (metaphorical and literal) between them, because mickey would look up at the moon through the bars on the rec room window or the patio from his apartment in mexico and he’d think of ian, and his stupid fucking lopsided curved grin creeping up on his face like a crescent moon in its own right, and it’d be enough to get him til morning. even now, when he can’t sleep and he’s restless, he still looks for the moon, only now he doesn’t look out the window—why would he when he has the real thing on the other side of his mattress—he throws an arm and a leg over his husband like he’d lasso the moon if he could, and he pulls ian closer.

ian goes through phases, up down then up again, and they’re manageable, almost predictable if you study it close enough, like the phases of the moon or the flow of the tide, in and out, waxing and waning, and mickey loves all versions of ian, the full bright smiles and the dark barely there days, and every variation in between. because ian is still ian, no matter what stage he’s currently in, the same way the moon is still that bright glowing rock in the sky night after night, and mickey is happy to get pushed and pulled like waves on the shore under ian’s influence.

mickey studies the galaxies printed on ian’s body, across his chest and stomach, his shoulders and his arms, even the little ones dotting the backs of ian’s hands, and mickey finds peace in the stardust that paints ian’s skin, in the constellations he maps out on ian’s face with his lips, and even tho the freckles there are more faded then when they were kids, mickey still knows where every single one of them is. he brushes his fingers over the new one above his eyebrow, the one ian got after spending a little too much time with his tomato plant the other day, and mickey feels like an astronomer discovering a new star that he just never would’ve been able to see five, ten years ago on his own personal night sky, but he’s here to see it now so he kisses his latest discovery and falls asleep dreaming of a name for his newest constellation

[kastlequill]

iii/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus paradoxus

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.7k synopsis: the third time you save gaz tags: whumptober, infection, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here ← prev | next →

III.

You had lost count of how many times you’d warned him about the risk of infection, which was already quite high given the sheer frequency at which he acquired open wounds.

Best keep that thing covered, soldier, had been your soft-spoken command to close out his fourth visit in the span of a month and a half. That time, a stabbed forearm, and the time before that, a nasty gash down his spine, and so on. I don’t want to see you back in my infirmary for a long while, copy?

But it seemed your cautioning had gone in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t that Gaz didn’t know how to protect himself, nor was he incapable of mitigating the damage he sustained in combat; the sergeant was a competent man, something that you greatly appreciated when it came time to patch him up.

Rather, it was more so the case that he treated his life recklessly. Surviving was one thing, but exiting the fray unscathed? That was an altogether different and separate objective which, in his mind, warranted far less concern than completing the mission.

To him, the game plan was very simple: successfully execute orders, then get the hell out of there. Bonus points if he kept the majority of his body intact and functional.

For a soldier, this logic made total sense. Such a thought process was to be expected from someone who had spent over a decade honing his physical form into a weapon and had thus learned how to mentally detach himself from his personhood whenever necessary. During the firefight, his muscles and limbs moved in accordance with years of conditioning and training, acting on autopilot. Gaz, the man who brought you lunch on your busiest days and made damn certain none of your rowdier patients were giving you shit, faded into the background; what he did became exceedingly more important than the fact that it was he who did it.

For a medic, however? The stunning lack of self-preservation irritated you to no end.

And today, that irritation spiked to a record peak the instant he walked into the medbay with unfocused eyes and beads of sweat on his brow bone, jaw slightly loose, chest heaving for air.

“Hey, Doc,” Gaz said with a wince, the greeting sounding more like a croak than anything else. He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. “I’m not feeling too good. You mind if I. . ?”

Those were the last words to leave his lips before he all but collapsed into your waiting arms. Ignoring the worry that had begun to churn in your gut, you immediately helped him stumble to a nearby cot then gradually sat him down. Instinct took over, spurring you to quickly gather your medkit, don a pair of surgical gloves, gently open his mouth, and stick a thermometer under his tongue.

High body temperature, difficulty attending to external stimuli, fast pulse—textbook signs of an infection.

You were thankful that the nurse was too busy checking on another admit to notice how you cradled his face in your hands for a beat longer than was necessary after removing the thermometer. “Gaz, I need you to stay sharp, you got that? You have to show me where you’re injured so I can do my job.”

Blinking a little more awake, he gave a curt nod and lifted up the front end of his shirt to reveal what looked to be a knife wound slightly above his left hip. If the accumulation of dried pus was anything to go off of, it must have been at least a week old.

That’s definitely infected, alright.

“Why didn’t you call this in?” You lightly pressed into the inflamed flesh around the problem site, assessing its tenderness, but stopped when he let out a low, pained hiss. “We could’ve gotten it squared away in less than half an hour and saved ourselves the trouble.”

His half-lidded stare locked onto your alert, wide eyes. “Y’told me you’d rather I not come around for a bit, yeah? Can’t have you getting sick of me already, Doc. It’s bad form.”

It took everything in you not to flinch.

Of course a soldier would interpret an offhand joke in its most literal sense. Your playful tease had been intended to disguise genuine concern. Instead, the man had gotten the impression that you were annoyed by his insistence, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

In reality, you damn near prayed to any and all deities for them to shorten the time between his visits and lengthen his stays.

“That isn’t—” You swallowed an overwhelming wave of mixed emotions. “That isn’t what I meant, Kyle.”

He grinned, suddenly very coherent and present. “So it’s Kyle now, is it? Well, if I’d bloody known some measly infection is all it’d take for you to call me by my name, then I would’ve fuckin’ done this ages ago.”

Heat rushed towards your face, mostly pocketing itself in your cheeks. Some reassurance followed suit; Gaz couldn’t be too bent out of shape if he still had the energy and mental faculties to. . . to flirt with you.

As you cleaned the oozing gash, flushing it out with cool water and dabbing on a topical antibiotic with a Q-tip, the sergeant lowered his head to watch you work, eager to witness you in your element. Perhaps it should’ve annoyed you because of how frequently his forehead bumped into yours, but you understood his curiosity well. It was only fair, considering how often you wondered about him in the field; what he did, how and why he did it.

Who he became.

The occasional graze of your fingertips along his ribcage made the skin there to ripple, and he released a shaky exhale. “What’s the verdict, then?”

“Nothing that oral antibiotics and proper wound care won’t fix. But I want to keep you here overnight for observation and rehydration.” You stuck on a lopsided bandage and used your hand to smooth out any crinkles in the adhesive. When you lifted your face to address him more directly, the slight brush of his nose against yours caused a hitch in your breathing, and you jerked backward, startled by his closeness.

A pleased hum emanated from his throat. “Always lookin’ out for me. Soon as I get this blasted thing sorted, I’ll thank you properly.”

“There’s no need,” you assured him, stepping further out of reach. “Just focus on getting better, will you? This prescription is over the course of seven days. Don’t let me hear you’ve been skipping your meds.”

Needing to put several meters between the two of you, the shelves at the backend of the clinic were the perfect escape. There, no longer in view, you sifted through various supplies until you found an open box of penicillin, counted fourteen tablets in total, then funneled the antibiotic into a standard orange prescription bottle. By the time you returned to his cot with the medication, the sergeant was already munching on a couple of crackers, courtesy of the nurse.

He visibly straightened at your arrival and softly said, “Thank you. I mean it.”

Just doing my job, was what you should have replied. Nonchalant; not the slightest bit personally vested in your patient outside of the clinic.

“If you really want to thank me, you’ll stop getting hurt all the damn time,” were the words you muttered instead, sounding like a petulant child. Or perhaps you simply sounded like someone who gave a shit.

Because you did. You, a tested combat medic who should honestly know better by now, cared deeply about him, a special operator who risked his life daily so that the rest of the world remained relatively out of harm’s way. And given the horrors you’d seen both on the battlefield and in the infirmary, to care for someone like him was a terrifying notion.

What a nuisance, these matters of the heart.

His eyes dulled at your response, and you were consumed with the desire to bring back the light in those brown depths. “You know I can’t.”

The confirmation, though expected, still stung. Knowledge was such a curse, you decided. On some occasions, it benefited you to wield it, but on others, it only brought inescapable suffering. Regardless of the consequences, the possessor of said knowledge was forced to carry it within them always, robbed of a chance at blissful ignorance.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you sighed, lips settling into a resigned smile. “It was worth a shot.”

From then on, the remainder of your tending to him was spent in silence. Not an awkward silence, nor an angry silence; just silence. A neutral, comfortable silence—your favorite.

All that was left to do could’ve been passed off to the technician or even skipped entirely, but you felt compelled to go the extra mile where he was involved. You wet a rag to rid his forehead of sweat and used a tissue to gently dust away the crystallized mucus in his tear ducts. Before you had the opportunity to assist him in laying flat on the cot, your pillow-fluffing was interrupted by the slight weight of cold metal meeting the warm skin of your neck.

A dog tag. His dog tag.

Your brain momentarily short-circuited. The gravity of the action was not lost on you, nor was its heavy implications. Not in the least.

“I’ll try. For you,” he clarified, resolutely holding your gaze, an oath on his lips, “I’ll try.”

Good enough, you thought. Because it had to be.

This would have to be enough, whatever this was. This, a fledgling, precursory thing. This, stealing moments with him during the brief lapses of warfare, hidden behind the plastic tarp covering the infirmary. This, assuaging your anxieties by catching sight of him from afar, the distance between your clinic and his barracks too vast. This, an invisible threshold, a nonexistent white line that warned do not cross. This, the space decreed by professionalism somehow both too much and too little.

This would have to be enough.

tbc.

[dateko]

EVERYTHING YOU LEFT BEHIND | GOJO SATORU

a/n: really rando redundant angst i wrote like a few wee hours before work... not much to say about this for i am Miserable.

You jolt wake from your slumber with a sore gasp. The familiar dim light of the bedroom appears around you in a blur. You had been crying, again. Hastily wiping off the remainder of your tears, your heaving chest softens when you turn to see Megumi still beside you. 

His eyes remain closed, dark lashes long and unmoving. He looks so peaceful, as if he was back to being the little boy you first met all those years ago. Not a frown or crease lines his face. This was a boy you were proud to call your own and the one who unluckily lived through all of it.

Megumi’s been sleeping beside you ever since… Ever since Satoru went away. Every night, he slips under the covers to watch over and protect you. You feel guilty, an aching pang in your heart knowing he’s been there almost every night to catch you before you fall. 

His soft whisper steals you away from your thoughts. “Another bad dream?” 

“I’m okay. Just go back to sleep, ‘Gumi.”

“But you’re not,” Megumi shuffles closer to you, his eyebrows furrowing at how your bottom lip quivers. “Do you… Want to talk about it this time?”

The sigh that escapes your lips almost comes out as a bitter laugh, and you move yourself against the headboard. “It felt really real this time.”

Your mind likes to replay memories, falsities, and endless reeling illusions that make everything feel so alive. Sometimes, you never want to wake up, scared of the reality of the material world. The world that continuously takes and takes and takes. In your wildest dreams, both dark and light, Satoru is always there.

It’s always you and Satoru, Satoru and you. 

“What happened?” Megumi asks, moving to place his head in your lap. You smile you offer him is a melancholy one, your fingers threading between his raven locks to ease your pain.

“He asked me to marry him… Right after we all thought he’d won. And he looked so stupidly happy, too, like he could see me through the TV screen,” You sniffle before looking up at the ceiling, staring at nothing in particular. “It was such a Satoru thing to do. You know, with everyone there to watch the strongest sorcerer of our time. A winner, a smile full of pride, even til the end.”

Megumi hums in response, accepting your words and your feelings before gently moving to get off the bed. Your eyes follow him as he walks toward the closet. It had been full of boxes, ready to be moved into another home. One that wasn’t littered with every memory of a lost lover. 

Tall as he is, Megumi reaches his arm into the very back and pulls out a small, tattered shoebox. The boy brings it to your spot on the bed with a rather pensive look on his face. In your hold, the box is dusty and warm. The corners have faded and softened from how many times it’s been opened. 

“Megumi, what is this?”

“Something you need to see. It’s important.”

You flash him an uneasy look before he places himself back by your side and reassures you with a nod. Tentatively, you lift open the cover to find everything. 

Mementos and trinkets, old receipts and fading photos, letters upon letters. School report cards, grocery lists, a battered emblem pin from your high school. There’s so much in such a small box, so many memories. So much of him.

A neatly folded piece of parchment sits at the very top. It’s crisp and new, the ink that bleeds through still vivid. When you open it, a gasp squeezes itself in your throat, and you’re unsure of what to say or even think. You stare at all the lines and scribbles, especially the crossed-out phrases that you realize were meant to be parts of a wedding vow. 

Satoru’s thought process has always been clean and simple, straight to the point with hardly any shortcuts. But this thin sheet carried a heavy weight. For the first time in a very long time, Gojo Satoru was unable to articulate his thoughts. When it came to you, he was in disarray. Words were never enough to describe how much he loved you.

“How did you know about this?” You turn to Megumi.

“Gojo told me to show it to you if anything happened. He said it was the world in his eyes or something.” 

Nodding, you try to ignore the feeling of the tears welling up once more. The drumming beat of your weary heart and the headache that creeps along the side of your head as you continue to rummage in search. Trying to understand, trying to feel everything Satoru left behind. 

There’s so much more to the box—a string of ribbon you used to place around Tsumiki’s braids. Except it’s been shortened, and a number is written on it. You think about how Satoru even acquired this, the memory so distant in your mind. Feeling the short ribbon in your fingers, you hold your breath as you wrap it around your fourth finger. An unpleasant wail leaves your mouth.

It’s a perfect fit.

[the-dork-urge]

First Kiss - Detroit Becoming Human P1

I'm like 6 years late to the party but that's alright Gavin Reed

The police precinct was nearly silent. The usual hum of phones and distant chatter had faded, and now only the clatter of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper echoed in the otherwise empty room. You glanced at the clock: 11:45 PM.. You had already finished your paperwork, and your bag was packed, but there was something that kept you from leaving.It was him.

Gavin Reed was hunched over his desk, scribbling something on a report, his brow furrowed in concentration. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast shadows across his face, making his usual scowl even sharper. You knew he wasn’t here because he wanted to—no, it was disciplinary work from the higher-ups. The latest round of paperwork, because of some screw-up he’d made.

You’d seen him like this before—rare moments when the tough cop façade cracked and all that was left was the man behind it, dealing with whatever shit he didn’t want to talk about.

"You really dont have to help me, you should pack it" he growled, biting on the end of his pen, staring at the screen before him. You paused for a moment, considering his words. You could tell he was exhausted, but he wouldn’t admit it, not to anyone. Not even to you.

You shrugged, playing it cool, even though you were well aware that he hated anyone seeing him like this, especially you. "I know," you said with a small smile, scooting your chair closer to his desk. "But I want to.'' ''Yeah, well, don’t blame me when you’re stuck here ‘til dawn," he shot back, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.You knew better than to take him too seriously when he was like this. You simply slid into the chair next to him, grabbing a random stack of papers from the desk, and quietly set to work. The silence between you both stretched on as you worked, the low hum of the precinct your only company. Every now and then, you glanced up, watching Gavin as he focused on his screen. His brows were still furrowed in concentration, the usual tension in his shoulders as he worked through the mountain of paperwork. You couldn’t help but notice the way he chewed on the end of his pen, twisting it in his fingers, back and forth, like he was trying to work out a problem that wasn’t on the page.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked at him.

You leaned back in your chair, try to focus on your own pile, the sound of you pen clicking against the table as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. The rhythmic sound seemed to fill the space between you, a constant companion to the otherwise quiet night.

Then, without warning, Gavin turned around, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Stop," he said, his voice rough but low, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

You blinked, pausing mid-click. "What?"

"The pen. Stop playing with it," he grumbled, shooting you a glare. "It’s annoying."

You raised an eyebrow, setting the pen down slowly. "Really? You’re gonna tell me to stop?"He didn’t answer, just gave you a look that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. But you weren’t backing down so easily.

"Well, you’ve been chewing on your pen for the last half an hour," you shot back with a smirk. "So if we’re comparing levels of annoying, you’re definitely winning, Reed."

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your logic. "It’s a habit," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can’t help it."

You leaned back in your chair, resting your arms on the desk. "Oh, I get it," you teased. "So, chewing on your pen is okay, but me clicking my pen is somehow an offense?"

He shot you a look, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. "You’re impossible," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, well," you shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. "At least I’m not munching on office supplies."

The corners of Gavin’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. You knew he wasn’t really mad—not with you. The banter had a way of making the night feel a little less heavy, a little more bearable.

"You’re lucky I like you," he muttered, turning back to his desk, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Otherwise, I’d have tossed you out of here by now."

"Sure," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’d let anyone in here just to help you get through the mess you got yourself into. Maybe even Hank."

He rolled his eyes at your jab, and you both knew it wasn’t true. Out of everyone in the precinct, you were the only one who’d actually stick around to help him.

"Fuck you," he grumbled, hiding a smirk as he returned to his paperwork, the pen back between his lips.

You couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto your face. He looked kind of handsome like that, even with the pen in his mouth. You quickly caught yourself and cleared your throat.

"How about some coffee, huh?" you offered, hoping to change the subject.

He didn’t look up from his screen but gave a small nod. "Yeah, that’d be good."

As you stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the drip to finish, exhaustion settled in. It had been a long day, and the silence in the precinct made everything feel even heavier. The steady drip of the coffee felt almost meditative, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, leaning your palms against the counter.

Your mind wandered back to Gavin, as it often did when you were alone with your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder if it was obvious that you kind of liked him. And the truth was, you didn’t know if he felt the same way. He was always rough around the edges, sarcastic, and often a little too gruff, but there was a certain patience he showed you, a subtle kindness that made you feel like maybe he cared, even if he didn't say it outright.

In fact, there were moments—like when he'd bring you coffee without you asking, how he'd ask about your weekend and really seemed to listem, or the times his hand would linger on your shoulder as he passed by—that made your heart flutter. You'd caught him staring a few times, but he’d always quickly look away, as if he wasn’t sure what he was feeling either.

You couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he thought about you the way you were thinking of him now. But then, you shook your head slightly, trying to push the thoughts aside. After all, you didn’t even know what this was. You were just two tired cops in the middle of a long night, and maybe it was better to leave it at that.The sound of the coffee machine finishing its work broke your train of thought.

As you turned around to grab the mugs, you nearly jumped. Gavin had somehow silently made his way into the kitchen, standing just a few feet away, looking as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. ''Need something else.'' you asked, moving right by him to grab what you needed.

''Yeah," he said softly, and before you could react, you felt his hand gently wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

You tried not to focus on the way his hand felt against your skin, but the pulse racing through you made it impossible not to. "Thanks for staying," he said, the words hanging between you two in the small kitchen. y

You could feel his fingers slightly tighten around your wrist as if he was nervous about what he’d just said, but you weren’t sure. "I should’ve just said that right away... instead of being an asshole."

You looked at him, a genuine smile tugging at your lips now, the kind that felt different from the usual teasing.

"I know that, Gavin," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "You don't need to say anything."His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but his hand didn’t let go just yet. He blinked, as if unsure of how to respond, then his voice softened.

"No, but sometimes I should," he muttered.

It was then that he seemed to realize his hand was still on your wrist. He quickly let go, a bit too hastily, and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping just for a moment.

"It's... it's good to say it, actually," he added, looking down at his shoes as if trying to avoid eye contact.

You couldn’t help but smike softly at how flustered he looked. Gavin Reed, tough cop, lost in front of you.

You lingered there for a moment, eyes still on him, your eyes now on the hand that had reached out to you. It had felt good, his fingers on your skin. The sound of the coffee machine’s little alarm started to blare again, its sharp beep pulling you back to reality. It was a reminder of the task you had come in for, but something—or rather, someone—had you rooted to the spot.

You weren’t quite ready to move away just yet. You glanced at Gavin, who seemed just as stuck as you,

You heard Gavin take a deep breath, and before you could even process it, he stepped forward. One of his hands reached up, tentative at first, then gently placed itself on your cheek. His fingers were warm, and he lingered there, just enough to check if you were okay with it, as if giving you the space to pull away if you wanted.

For a moment, everything stood still. Your breath hitched as you leaned in slightly, your gaze locked on his. You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, the tension that had built in the few seconds it took him to reach out, and then you heard him breathe out a quiet sigh of relief.

You moved forward, just as he did, closing the distance between you two. Your lips met in the middle, softly at first, a delicate graze that sent a spark of warmth through you both. You felt his breath against your skin. As you deepened the kiss, your hand instinctively moved up to his cheek, your fingers brushing against the roughness of his stubble. His jaw shifted under your touch, a soft rumble of breath escaping him. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat pick up.

His hand, still resting on your cheek, gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing along the curve of your jaw. His other hand, which had been hovering uncertainly, now reached around to your back.

You responded instinctively, your body pressing against his, feeling the warmth of him seep through your clothes. The softness of the kiss slowly deepened as he tilted his head, his fingers now brushing through your hair.

Pulling back slightly, you both took a breath, your foreheads resting against each other, your breath mingling. Gavin’s eyes were soft, searching yours.

He broke the silence first, his voice low. “Didn’t think we’d be here tonight.”

You smiled softly, your hand still resting on his chest. “Me neither

[ejsuperstar]

Psssssssst. Hi. I wish to know about ur au with the Injured Messenger I am extremely intrigued. Dead people hell yea

YAY! INTEREST ABOUT MY CHILDREN! This is a very long post cos I ramble a lot lmao

So my au starts with a bunch of sky kids falling down from the stars (presumably after eden) and a new moth joining them, one of the sky kids crashes into the moth, and knocks them wildly off course, causing them to crash into wasteland.

After crashing into wasteland with no idea what they're meant to be doing, the moth, who I like to refer to as "Local Baby", ends up wandering the outskirts of wasteland til they come across darkness. Before realising what it is, they're initially fascinated, finding it beautiful, until their sky kid instincts kick in and they realise "oh this stuff is probably bad". (This is another theme I want to explore in this au too, about how darkness can be beautiful, and how not everything to do with darkness is inherently evil, but that's just a want rn)

Thats when they realise something is under the darkness, they pull at the darkness with their hands (too baby to know how to use a candle yet) until the something is revealed, a dormant spirit (Messenger). Since they dont know how to use a candle (and quite frankly have no idea whats causing their new friend to be made of stone, only that "yay new friend :D") they attempt to wake them up, fail, and just kinda, lie down next to them and fall asleep.

Sky kids, unlike spirits, are a powerful source of light. Even without candle use, kinda sitting next to one for 8 hours is good enough to wake up a spirit. So Messenger wakes up. Initally confused about why they were face down in the dirt, they turn to see the Local Baby staring at them. At first they're like "A child??" before realising "A SKY KID????"

They question why (and how) the sky kid got there, until they realise what happened. This sky kid has just been born, has no clue what anything is, and most importantly, has no wing level.

This is where lore gets interesting for spirits and wing levels. Spirits can fly, but their method of getting wing levels is different than sky kids. A sky kid gains winged light by recollecting their memories, either of past lives they no longer identify with (like our moth here) or simply re-remembering memories they already know (like how our sky kids work). These memories show up in physical form to them as Winged Light, but spirits cant see them.

Spirits gain wing levels differently. Spirits gain wing levels via sky kids, specifically, sky kids who fall down from the stars not fully formed, or perish on the fall. Kind of like being stillborn, or not simply dying shortly after birth. Spirits can absorb the high concentrates of light these sky kids to gain a wing level (this act being referred to as catching stars), but this is very rare, especially in places that don't see as much light (ie wasteland and forest).

Messenger ends up freaking out and realising they still have stuff to deliver, and they cant dilly dally, until a sharp pain strikes them in their stomach and they fall to their knees, remembering "OH YEAH I GOT STABBED BY A SPEAR". Local Baby notices and goes up to them, touching them, and the pain seems to fade. They assume that, the sky kid healed them using the power of light (they didnt) and thank them. In reality this was just Local Baby viewing Messenger's memory, like in the actual game.

Since Messenger needs to deliver things to Vault anyway (a neutral zone from the war) they decide to take the baby along, so they can get somewhere safe where they wont have to worry that someone will take this baby and harvest them for their light.

After this my ideas for this au are a lot less set in stone. I have some general plot beats set out, Messenger and Local Baby walk for a few days until hitting an abandoned outpost, taking an old boat they find, and flying it over to the temple where they arrive from the left (a usually cloud blocked area in game). Messenger sees the aftermath, wound hurts again, Baby helps. They get into vault, some other sky kid accidentally reveals to Messenger that they're dead, they try not to cry. Baby gets their first WL maybe, stuff happens from there idk. They also probably got krilled at some point, well, almost krilled (Yay Messenger for saving their child!!)

As well as some other general lore, like Sky kids eating light as food (and also just fucking biting down into candles sometimes cos i think thats funny), Local Baby only remembering how to get their candle out after getting a WL (because WL are memories and they have no memories nor braincells). Messenger not eating at all because they're dead and not realising cos they're too distracted with the child and/or assuming the sky kid did this to them (things aren't really known about sky kids, so they just kinda go along with it). Sky kids needing to light each other to understand each other, but spirits being able to understand just fine. A lot of minor stuff really I guess.

I'm also currently in the middle of doing some art of them in wasteland because I love them!

[kaisinasunblade]

DWC February 2024 - Day 7 - Discovery

It was time. Chi'u smiles as Kai walks up to her. "It is time child. You are ready." Kai felt tears sting her eyes as she stands in front of Chi'u, a woman who had become not only her teacher, but a mother as well. The past two months coming to the Jade Forest had allowed Kai to grow as a woman.

This trip had brought her self-discovery, a self growth. Here she had found her true self: her values as a person. Kai steps forward as Chi'u wraps her arms around her, holding her close. Tears slip down their cheeks, "I will miss you. I'm so proud of you Little Robin." Chi'u slowly pulls away from Kai. "As I will miss you Chi'u. I will come and visit you as often as I can."

Hours later Kai stands at the edge of a waterfall, tilting her head back as the cold water rushes down around her. Coming to the Jade Forest, felt like coming home at times. But her home was not here, for her home rests as the same place that held her heart. It was time to return. To grow, to love.

Tonight she would return home, tonight she would have her dinner with Dice. She closes her eyes as the water washes over her. Courage. Chin up.

"I would be lying if I said I'm fine I think of you at least a hundred times 'Cause in the echo of my voice I hear your words Just like you're there

I still come home from a long day So much to talk about, so much to say I love to think that we're still making plans In conversations that'll never end In conversations that'll never end

Courage Don't you dare fail me now I need you to keep away the doubts I'm staring in the face of something new You're all I got to hold on to So courage Don't you dare fail me now

Not one to hide from the truth, I know It's out of my hands but I won't let you go There's no replacing the way you touched me I still feel the rush

Sometimes it drowns me 'til I can't breathe Thinking it's only in our memories But then I talk to you like I did then In conversations that will never end

Courage Don't you dare fail me now I need you to keep away the doubts I'm staring in the face of something new You're all I got to hold on to So courage Don't you dare fail me now

'Cause it's not easy When you're not with me This world of madness goes faster now And it's a train wreck but I won't crash yet Long as your echo never fades out

Courage Don't you dare fail me now

'Cause it's not easy When you're not with me This world of madness goes faster now And it's a train wreck but I won't crash yet Long as your echo never fades out

Courage Don't you dare fail me now"

Celine Dion Courage

@daily-writing-challenge

@dicenne for mentions

[charlottedabookworm]

Dawntrail Day 7+8 (part 1/2)

spoilers up to: lvl100 msq quest Dawntrail

original draft date: 4-5/7/24

scheduled release for: 31/7/2024

working on day 7 so i’m merging these. since i’ve only got a couple hours i'mma do my tribals on picto and then do the instance i stopped at yesterday, hopefully get close to a dungeon/trial unlock but really not got much time. day 8 i'm finishing up msq 100% no matter how long it takes me and then hopefully doing the two optional dungeons!

*

…completely forgot that zoraal ja gave the order to kill all the civilians in solution nine

nice way to start the morning

*

“I have no more use of you, begone”

hmmmm thats an odd thing to say considering you were claiming he wasn’t your son before

fingers crossed nothings up with gulool ja

*

annnnd fade to black with the echoing sound of an execution shot lovely haven’t heard that since shadow ringers

*

pfft that last one!

except i really don't care what sphene thinks ngl

*

otis is back!

yes!

really didn’t want to kill him

*

damn

he was a good guy

*

okay but-

where is erenville?

they wouldn’t kill him off offscreen i know that much but we’d better not find him dying i swear to fucking everything I will-

*

*stares at crying child*

fuuuuck i really hope you're not a trap

*

oh thank fuck he's alive

also sorry your mums dead and has been a probably a long time mate

*

huh

he didn't mention it

why didn't you mention it erenville, what are you thinking rn?

*

no, please

this actually is important information to have

considering your mum is possibly the same sort of endless otis is and she had to end up that way somehow

*

love looking at this ngl

so much easier and nicer doing it as you progress through the zones

*

i made it to the fifth dungeon unlock but since there's almost certainly a trial afterwards and i have barely enough time to do the dungeon if i zoom through it, i'mma wait and do it in the morning

soooo wondrous tails time for picto ig

*

oh

thats just rude we didn't need that

*

ayyy alphi esti and shtola!

only reason theyve shown up just before i should be unlocking a trial is cos it can be done in trust? maybe? pls?

*

fuuuck that looks like a voidgate to me

zoraal ja wtf have you been doing

*

oh?

could it maybe lead to whichever reflection the alexandrian's are from

final zone in another shard? maybe?

*

so ig it’ll be like ‘we beat him he flees we chase’

boom final zone and trial and dungeon?

either that or sphene will actually be the final boss which still wouldn’t surprise me

*

the framing reminds me of hades ngl

like it tho

*

i know you're having a crisis but has it occured to you that you were born because your dad liked kids? like i know your entire existence is like. a miracle and gulool ja ja didn't know he could have bio kids til you were born but that man obviously lived for being a dad

*

this music-

just gonna sit here and listen to this for a bit before i enter the trial lol

*

genuinely forgot that y'shtola used to run around as a conjurer

it feels like so long ago now lol and i half expected them to have rdm healer ali again

*

okay his second phase actually looks cool

and isn't a massive floating head sitting at the edge of the arena which gives many bonus points

*

zoraal ja looks pretty dead to me and we still have a dungeon and trial to go so-

sphene, cachuia, or some third unknown threat? taking bets now

*

yeah it’s sphene 100% isn’t it

‘deliver my people’ huh

*

yeahhhh there we go

*

once again, i agree with ali

how many will you slaughter, sphene, so that your endless (yourself included) will live another day

how many children will you sacrifice so that your may live your hundredth lifetime

*

but they aren't remembered

i'm gonna scream how dare you say that when your system removes the memories of a deceased person from everyone who knew them

how dare you-

*

how dare you bring his mother into this

his mother, who everyone from his village has forgotten because of your system-

i-

*

don't worry koana, it's not the first time

this is basically a tuesday for me i'll keep your sister safe

*

i love him he's so sweet

i'm so glad gulool ja didn't turn out to be a trap

that probably would have broken my heart

*

that graphics update really looking peak on the af gear

wow

look at that metal

(now to time glam back over it)

*

so thw question is

another dungeon immediately?

huh nope

*

ooooooo it so pretty

it has canals

*

cachuia i'm guessing

i see where erenville gets the pretty from

*

oh

oh erenville love you're not going to take this well

your mother is dead and alive (did she get a choice? did they just pluck up her memories adn make her endless?) and she wants them all to die again

*

i love this

but also raha breaking my heart every expansion he's in

love him for that

*

oh so we're continuing to traumatise both erenville and wuk lamat i see

great

wonderful

thank you very much for that square

*

screaming crying throwing up why are you doing this to me

*

"I'm put in mind of Lyhe Mheg"

a tribe quest reference? in my final fantasy 14 msq?

*

this cutscene is legit one of my favourite parts of the expansion

sure we gotta shut down the memories of all these kids but we'll give them something nice before that

*

ayo wtf

those are kriles bio parents

so i see we’re spreading the trauma to krile to join with erenville and wuk lamat

glad she can maybe get some closure tho

*

love raha running up to krile and her parents and just chomping down on ice cream to break the ice between her parents

he’s such a good friend

*

....oh i hit the image cap.

alright part 2 incoming

[fxllen-rxse]

Muse Playlist

Stolen from: @abelladxnna Tagging: You!

Main: Fading like a Flower - Roxette

Every time I see you // Oh I try to hide away// But when we meet it seems I can't let go // Every time you leave the room // I feel I'm fading like a flower // Fading like a rose // Fading like a rose // Beaten by the storm // Talking to myself // Getting washed by the rain // Its such a cold cold town // Ooh its such a cold town

Silly: Venus - Bananarama

A goddess on a mountain top // Was burning like a silver flame // The summit of beauty and love // And Venus was her name // She's got it // Yeah, baby, she's got it

Determination: Revolution - R3HAB, Nervo, Ummett Ozcan

I got a love that keeps on fighting // It keeps on // I got a heart that keeps on trying // It keeps on // People // Tell me what you gonna do // So keep on // Show me what you gonna choose // Cause we can start a revolution // You and me // I say we start a revolution // Just you and me // Start revolution

Battle: Guide My Way (Red Like Roses - Part III) - Casey Lee Williams

A moment of quiet is all it takes // To reclaim a life and a promise made // I am the reflection of who prevails // I'm what inspired the fairytale

Sad: Love Hurts - Nan Vernon (Original by Nazareth)

Love hurts, love scars // Love wounds and marks // Any heart // Not tough or strong enough // To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain // Love is like a cloud // Holds a lot of rain // Love hurts // Ooh, ooh, love hurts

Relaxed: Worthy (BMBLB - Part II) - Casey Lee Williams, Ariyel

You fell // And suddenly I did too // While the world was dying // Didn't know how to not lose you again // Hands down // Heart wide // I've only ever known the fight // But I'll catch you // This time // I'll never let you out of my sight

Contemplative: How Bad Do You Want It? (Oh yeah) - Sevyn Streeter

If the sky start falling now // And the world stop turnin' round (oh yeah) // Did you give your everything? // You better give your everything // 'Cause if you wanna ride with me (oh yeah) // Make me come alive baby (oh yeah) // So if you wanna ride with me (oh yeah) // If you wanna ride with me

Happy: Flashdance... What a Feeling (Irene Cara)

What a feeling // Being's believing // I can have it all // Now I'm dancing for my life // Take your passion // And make it happen // Pictures come alive // You can dance right through your life

Love Theme: Shivers - Armin Van Buuren, Susana

They don't turn tonight // Morning don't bring light // Where is sweetness found // Where love is gone // Won't you stay tonight // Let the truth shine bright // Where can love be found // If your heart won't feel // Memories // Emotions that we share // Teardrops // Signing my face

Breakup/Heartbreak: It Doesn't Matter - Alison Krauss

It doesn't matter what I want // It doesn't matter what I need // It doesn't matter if I cry // Doesn't matter if I bleed // Feel the sting of tears // Falling on this face you've loved for years

Failure/Defeat: Until the End - Casey Lee Williams

Love brings us dreams // But grief makes the heart burst at the seams // As light fills my eyes // I'll picture me beside her and pray that I'll inspire // I promise I'll be here until the end // I promise I'll be here until // Our story has been told // 'Til our bodies break down every door // 'Til we find what we've been looking for // And stare with pride into the face of fear // In our finest hour, I'll be standing here // And should we fall to darkness // This power I will harness // I promise I'll be here until the end // I promise I'll be here until the end

Final Battle: The Edge - Casey Lee Williams

Just you see // Watch as I go alone // All alone // Alone // Rising like a wave // It's clear that I'm everything and nothing // All at once // I'll meet you at the horizon where we first met // Where I died, I'll be born again

[mica-marie-96]

I can’t do this anymore! 😭

I don’t dream like other people dream… When I dream, I experience a half death, I travel around in my own mind… I astral project, every, single, time. I go deeper deeper into other worlds, universes, and realities. I fly, and explore... It’s always so beautiful, I hardly ever want to come out.

If I don’t have an alarm on, I can become stuck. Then when I return to my body I suffer with extreme sleep paralysis. I am awake in a body that is deeply asleep, almost in a death like state, a comatose, like sleeping beauty. I try to move my limbs and it’s no use. I have to just lay there and watch the world around me. Am I dead or alive?

This is where it gets weird… Whilst I’m laying there waiting to wake up, aware of my surroundings, paralysed. A man is generally always there, in the other room, walking around the bed, doing things around the house… I used to always assume it was my partner, but when I asked him if he came home today, he would swear blind he hadn’t… I cant look above eye level, but when he walks past the bed I’d see his work trousers (he’s an electrician), so I was convinced it was him.

I came to the conclusion that it’s the same man that used to see when I was younger and occasionally see now out of the corner of my eye. My ghost, my shadow man. Except as my memory returns to me he didn’t start off that way at all. At first he was himself, he would make me laugh when I was sad, he was my clown… then I remember our last encounter. I had run away from home and I was sat on a bench. As I got older he would start to try and hide from me, but I always knew he was there. As I sat on this bench, I said, “I know that you are there”… as of this moment in time, I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, but I know it’ll come back to me.

As I got older, and I lost the memories to the back of my mind, the clown morphed and became scarier, and scarier. Until I saw just a shadow. The last time I saw the clown I was sat outside my ex boyfriend’s house in the early hours of the morning. He had a habit of leaving me on nights out and going home with his friends. He would get back and fall asleep with no regard for me. I would have gone home but my stuff would be in his room as I lived far away, and the plan was to go to his. I didn’t have the money to travel home, even though 9/10 that’s all I wanted to do. I couldn’t bring myself to wake his parents that early in the morning… so I’d sit and wait outside of his door, until his parents woke up to let me in for my stuff because he wouldn’t be waking up till the afternoon.

So there I was, mid winter, without a coat, in a skirt and jumper, phone clinging on to the last of its battery as I’ve attempted to call my ex over and over, and I can’t turn on the phone light, huddled outside the front door, ‘coming down’… I didn’t even have an alcohol blanket, I didn’t like to drink very much at this point in my life and I knew not to mix. I’m sat there shivering, just praying for the hours to go past quickly, hoping I don’t die and as my eyes start to shut, at the end of the street underneath the only lamppost that was on, was my clown, waving at me, dancing on occasion and staring at me.

I kept my eyes on him in bewilderment and in fear until the sky got lighter and lighter, to which he then faded away with the darkness and that was the last time I saw my clown, but I know damn well that he kept me alive that night. He was there to make sure I didn’t close my eyes, and that I kept fighting til the morning.

Corrr, I really went off on a tangent today didn’t I.

15.12.24

[misanthropiccacophony--old]

hey um. why do you feel embodied by euthanasia? i’m pretty sure it’s one of wills most straightforward, literal songs so like. it’s just about dead pets. no hate at all btw i’m just curious about your interpretation.

you're all good mate! actually, thanks for asking!! ^^

this is gonna be a long post that's pretty personal, so I'm gonna put my explanation under the cut.

this will include an overall connection, and analysis of lyrics and their relation to me

i know it's just about dead pets, which is partially why i feel so embodied by it. the lyrics themselves are a majority of my connection, but the delivery of the live version is also a big thing for me.

there's a rawness in the live version that really just,,, hits me. the ability to perform such a sad and personal song feels like both a cover up of emotions and a confession of them at the same time. i'm pretty easily overwhelmed by my emotions and shit, but i tend to keep them to myself cause i feel like a burden and leech on others when i try to share them.

because the performance is live. you can hear every string squeak clearly, too. i generally love this sound in music, but when paired with the song? it reminds me of choked sobs, like when you're full on sobbing and breaking down. it evokes that feeling of pure grief like what you'd get at the loss of a loved one. it feels so familiar for me.

sometimes i feel like a dead pet. i feel like a foggy memory that's being forgotten more and more, fading out as the person forgets my memory. i feel like a ghost. people see me, people see things about me that are glaring and obvious. but they still stare through me. sometimes that's all they do. maybe i'm a beloved memory to some, maybe i'm just a faint memory with too little substance to hold any emotional feelings, maybe i'm a raw topic that still causes the heart to bleed and ache, maybe i'm drying tears and the reason someone lashes out in pain and hates being alone because of the void i've left maybe not. that's ok either way. the live version of Euthanasia by Will Wood really resonates with me, and i feel like it and all of the feelings it invokes in me <at the very least> embodies me.

now, for song meaning. for clarification- the song is about euthanasia <obviously>, more specifically when Will had to euthanize one of his pet rats, Bert. that's the literal meaning of the song.

i've had to have pets put down before, and had others just pass in general. so in the literal way, i know the feeling; i've lived it

in general though, there's something about having to put a pet down to end their suffering peacefully that resonates with me. to put it bluntly– i both wish someone could do that to me, and i also know the guilt of having to do something that feels do horrid and awful to a loved one so fucking intimately.

both the owner—grieving and guilty over their actions—and the pet—terrified and suffering—are things that i've lived with for way too much of my life. i've spent countless hours drowning in those feelings and trying my damn best to escape and recover.

moving onto lyrics, i'm not gonna go over every single one, but i'm gonna cover a good few of them. i'm gonna put the lyrics in color so they're a bit easier to identify <and cause i feel like it> "I was right there, while you fought tooth and nail Gasping in the gas mask, thrashing 'til you disappeared"

this could go one of two ways. 1) i've had pets go, and i've had to do shit i thought was for the best but still really hurt. sometimes it feels/felt like i was watching hopelessly as it happened. 2) i feel like both of these at once. putting myself down, euthanizing myself, believing with all of my existence that it's for the best. i'm also fighting for my life, desperate and clinging to anything i can because i don't actually want to die, despite believing i do. "Say you're not scared That you know it's because I cared and Say you know I love you, and that hope was just not there"

i've hurt <and scarred> people i love because i thought it was for the best, because i loved them, because i honestly believed that there wasn't any hope. and often i wish to hear that they know it was an act of love, and they also felt that hopelessness so i can pretend i'm justified. "And I know, I know that I'm wrong That when you're gone, you're gone And I can't bring you home"

i know this denial so deeply. i also know the painful truth that i'm wrong in that denial. i've lost some people, through death or just losing contact or whatever. some days, though, i sink into that denial thinking i can see them again, that they'll come home. they won't, and i know it. "But I want, I want to believe That you'll remember me When you're just memory"

i like to think that people i've loved deeply in any way will still remember me when they're just a memory to me. that i've made enough of a difference that they'll remember me <fondly, i hope> when they're just another memory for me. "And sorry, I would take it back if I could, but I know" there's so much i wish i could take back. there's so much, even if it was for the best at that time, that i would undo if i could. the regret of that is something i might just die with. "But I want, I want to believe That you can still hear me When you're just memory"

to people i've lost in any way, i hope you can hear me apologize for not being there more and not doing more for you. i want to believe that those i've lost can still hear me say how much they meant to me.

" Said, "It's okay" "And it'll all be over soon" "I'd never let a bad thing happen to you" "Now, goodnight, I love you!" " i like to think that the harm i've caused isn't actually that bad. that it's for the best. it's not bad, it's actually good, because it was the best choice i had. i like to think that... for those i've left behind... that i could've said this to them or communicated it to them in any way "And every, everybody dies Fighting for their lives Just trying to survive" i don't wanna go too much into this. but. i relate to this line on such a deep level it almost physically hurts. sometimes i could swear to you that i'm failing to survive. some days i expect to die from how desperately i'm fighting for my life. "And I know, I know it's not true There's just no more you But as long as there's no proof Then I choose, I choose to believe That we'll meet in sweet dreams After you're put to sleep" i like to think that all of the people i've loved and lost still exist somehow. they're still there somewhere. whether they died or we lost contact in any way. they're still out there, and maybe i'll see them again. maybe i'll get to meet them in a sweet, comforting dream. because there's no way it will happen in reality. maybe, when we're both gone, we can meet again and catch up. maybe when we meet up, it'll all be okay. sometimes i wanna be put to sleep to see if that's the case. sometimes i wanna go to sleep to see if that's the case. either way, i'm always longing for the people that aren't in my life anymore. the ones i loved, anyway. i just think it'd be nice to see them again. wouldn't it be lovely to see their wonderful faces again? wouldn't it be beautiful to be in their glorious company again?

i think it would be.

[heynikkiyousofine]

Nov. 7th, 2022 InuPrompts: Direction

Good Directions and Sweet Tea

read me on ao3

Inuyasha bit into the pork rind, the crunch satisfying to his ears as the summer sun scorched his skin. I’m gonna need to invest in some sunscreen if this sunshine don’t go away anytime soon. Sitting in the back of his blue pick up truck, he stared out at his ranch, admiring the wild horses that had come to graze along his fenceline.

Flicking his ears, he caught the gentle purr of a sports car headed his way. Glancing down the road, he was shocked to see a cherry red convertible driving towards him with hollywood on the license plate, but what caught his attention was the beauty driving it. Who is that?

She had dark locks that blew about in the wind, the black blue shade unique to anyone around here. Her eyes were hidden behind large round sunglasses, but he could see the tiny freckles splashed across her nose as she pulled to a stop, just a few feet away from him.

He waited, watching her lick her lips before giving him a heart stopping smile and waving him over. Leaping down from the back of his truck, he hoped he didn’t appear too rough after a long morning doing chores around his place. She must think I’m redneck or somethin’ with the way I look.

“Howdy ma’am, what can I do ya for?” He asked politely, not wanting to scare the woman away.

“Hi! I’m so glad I found you!” She lifted her sunglasses, revealing a pair of chocolate eyes that he could spend the rest of his life swimming in. “I’m lost and looking for the interstate. Could you give me directions?” She sure is gorgeous.

“I’m the man for the job.” Inuyasha grinned, flexing his muscles as he leaned against her car. She blushed, her smile broadening and he wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. “Alright, so stay on this road and keep goin’ til ya get to a caution light. On the corner, there’s a lil’ country store with an old coke sign. Old Kaede runs it and she makes the best sweet tea in this region, so before ya head back to where ya goin’.”

She nodded enthusiastically, listening to his every word.

“Once ya do that, take a left and it’ll take straight back to the interstate. Ya can’t miss it.” He pointed with his thumb in the general direction. “If ya take a right, you’ll end up comin’ right back here to me.”

“Oh, thank you so much. You’ve been a big help!”

The woman quickly waved goodbye, turning her volume up, the pop music fading as she drove away. Pulling his ratted ball cap from his back pocket, Inuyasha growled. I should’ve asked her name at least. I doubt I’ll ever see her again, but it would’ve nice to know the woman I’d be dreamin’ about tonight. Fuck, I could’ve been in love. Maybe I could catch on up to her…

He knew well that his old Ford wouldn’t run her down, thinking she probably didn’t like him anyhow. She was just being polite to a complete stranger. Giving the road one last glance, he sighed as she disappeared into a cloud of dust. Deciding to eat his lunch, Inuyasha cracked open a beer as he settled back on the tailgate.

A half hour passed and before he knew it, the cherry red convertible was driving towards him once more. This heat must be playin’ tricks on me. There’s no way in hell the woman of my dreams is comin’ back to me.

He waited silently, his body tense as she turned off her engine and stepped out, revealing the perfect figure in jean cropped shorts and a simple tee shirt, the woman holding two large cups in her hands. Swallowing, he slowly rose to his feet, his amber eyes colliding with hers, his heart pounding in his chest.

“So, um, I stopped and asked Miss Kaede for her sweet tea.” She held one out for him, smiling softly. “I had this strange feeling, that something felt right and she sent me back here to you.”

“Thanks for the tea.” He laughed, knowing his neighbor probably had a plan up her sleeve. Kaede’s known for always tryin’ to set me up. “I’m Inuyasha, by the way.”

“I’m Kagome.”

“Would you like to come in?” He offered, unsure of what to say next. She nodded, biting her lip and he suddenly had the urge to kiss her. Deciding to walk her inside, figuring the kissing could later, he glanced up at the southern sky. Thank kami for good directions and sweet tea.

tag list

@blairex​ ; @mamabearcat​ ; @enchantedink-ag​​ ; @splendentgoddess​​ ; @mandirox89​​ ; @sailorlolo​​ ; @mustardyellowsunshine​​ ; @hny-moroha​​ ; @knittingknots​​ ; @yukinon-writes​​ ; @clearwillow​​ ; @keichanz​​ ; @serial-doubters-club​​ ; @malditamigs​​ ; @zelink-inukag​​ ; @shinidamachu​​ ; @bonny2323​​ ; @banksdelivers​​ ; @that-one-nerdy-gal​​ ; @sarahk21​​ ; @dchelyst​ ; @anisaanisa​​ ; @lavendertwilight89​​ ; @otaku-108​​ ; @sailorbabydoll92​​ ; @inukagbot​​ ; @queerkagome​​ ; @bluehawaiicat​​ ; @chit-a-to​​ ; @liz8080​​ ; @lightmidnight​​ ; @shikonstar​​ ; @soliska​​ ; @sometimes-icanstillhear-sitboy​​

[bloodsaltedsshifting]

be damned if he'd give up something that..means..what this means for just a little cas-ism in the middle of them..you know? figuring this all out. hell no. he's too down the rabbit hole now. too damn deep into wanting him to let one blunder of a biology lesson throw such a huge curveball into what's happening that it'd completely end it. nah. this is cas we're talking about here. cas. and he still can barely wrap his head around the fact that this is happening...much less let him go. their mouths meet again and he's all-too-eager to pick right back up after that momentary the hell? moment. for cas supposedly not knowing what the hell he's doing? the way he kisses him like he's starving for the very taste of him? damn sure doesn't feel like he's a novice. it melts dean from head to toe every time they end up with their tongues tied together and teeth meet flesh.

'we can do biology' and cas's grin? that's one memory dean cements in immediately. cause he never ever wants that to slip away. breaking into his own uneven, devilish grin in return--the hunter easily moves where he's pushed and then rises up on his elbows as cas plucks himself up off him. a set of raised eyebrows and a small, curious pout. "where're..." but then he's told to move and he moves cause that makes sense. room's kinda essential at this point. everything slows when he notices the way cas is staring down at him, admiring him. how it dawns on dean steals his vocabulary. his lip folds in between his teeth while watching cas watch him. it's intimate in a way he hasn't felt before. different. and it makes him feel warmer inside. the sensation flows through his entire being. makes the stiffness against his abdomen pulse and remind him of its need. his need.

the minute seems to stretch out for hours. dean swears he can feel the grace buzzing underneath the mark on his shoulder start to radiate through him again. into his brain. his senses dance with it and he can't help his breath hitching when the angel moves and stirs him from where it was lulling him towards. it's own brand of pleasure that's wholly castiel and something entirely not human. more powerful. brilliant. cas moves up his body and dean's lowering his top half back down til his head meets the pillows and cas is straddling his thigh. cas's mouth starts to explore him and sends dean into utter bliss. eyes roll back before fluttering closed. a neck exposes more of itself as his back arches with a tongue dipping into his clavicle. "cas!" a loud, rush of a whisper as his body jerks.. one of his favorite spots. so says the chills and how he responds, stiffening harder against castiel's leg. fingers lift off the bed to run down the angel's back, blunt nails lightly dig over his skin leaving white marks that fade to pink. he squirms under castiel as he lowers. body reacting with each flick of tongue or touch of his mouth to heated skin.

dean manages a damn miracle when cas makes it to his belly by lifting up on an elbow again to look down at him through lust-filled eyes once he realizes where he is going and--his breathing picks up. panting as his hips are kissed. licked. then when cas grabs hold of him in his hand? green eyes flare wide, lips part for a groan and he watches spellbound as cas's lips part and his tongue licks it's way up to the very tip. "cas.. cas... don't stop. please." he grips the sheets for all he's worth like they're the only thing keeping him earthbound, body shuddering as one calf moves to gently rest just slightly across the angel's back. "more."

                              CASTIEL REALIZES THAT THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE WRONG THING TO SAY. Neither the pizza man nor the babysitter had talked a lot in the movie, except for the occasional yes or deeper or curse word, and Dean looks briefly confused, as well, though luckily not too put off. He still seems interested in continuing their little adventure, and Castiel happily obliges. He pulls Dean's face up for a deep kiss, full of tongue and teeth and sucking at lips until the embarrassed blush that has crept onto his face for saying the wrong thing turns into a blush that's obviously because of the way they're making out. This time, Castiel pulls back first. "We can do biology," he declares with a grin as he pushes Dean's upper body down on the mattress.

                               They need more space, though, with Dean's legs still dangling off the bed, so Castiel gets off his lap and gestures at him to move up the mattress and properly onto the bed, and then he just stands there for a whole minute and stares because Dean is so beautiful, his chest flushed, Castiel's handprint almost white on his shoulder, and Castiel has the sudden urge to kiss him everywhere, so he does just that: He climbs on the bed, one knee between Dean's thighs, the other next to his hips, and he starts kissing him. First, his lips, then trailing down his jaw over his neck to his clavicle, where he dips his tongue into the little dent to taste his sweat.

                                  He remembers what the babysitter did in the movie that made the pizza man very happy shortly before he started slapping her rear, so decides to try the same. He moves further down, kissing his way to Dean's bellybutton and then to his hips, and then, without further ado, he grabs Dean's erection and licks a wet stripe from the base all the way to the crown, savoring the taste on the tip of his tongue.

[redd956]

Rewrite/Extended Prompt 3

Sorry if my writing is too descriptive for a prompt. Is this really even a prompt anymore.

Villain enters through the oversized spruced up doors to one of the most expensive buildings in the city. Immediately their ears are swindled by the bustling of a local orchestra, and the chorus of chattering voices. Villain’s silhouette doesn’t stand out amongst the building’s inhabitants of fancily dressed wealthy individuals. 

In fact Villain’s whole demeanor sweetly sings that they belonged there. With a smooth talking voice they dabble group to group. Person to person is greeted, over the top laughs are received, and Villain’s charm is greedily consumed by all those around them. Though Villain saunters by plenty of familiar faces, no one recognizes theirs.

Hours slowly tick by as Villain commits to their favorite way to gain intel. However their night isn’t lively or all too fun until Villain gets to tease Hero. They can already imagine that serious stoic face, proudly explaining its heroic achievements. Villain has always been surprised to Hero at these kind of gatherings. In the working field they do not show themselves as someone content with chatty sidekicks, and wealthy business partners.

Finally Villain’s eyes lands upon precious Hero. They know right away they have to enjoy the character’s oblivious presence. The smug smile that Villain’s lips are pressed into, quickly fades the closer they become to their rival. Something is so very off.

Hero’s normally lively face is flushed enough to shine the blush on their cheeks in a pinkish hue. Though Hero’s expression isn’t contorted in worry, they nervously fidget with their tight clothing. Hero teeters on the heels of their expensive shoes. A deep red cup of wine is being rotated idly in one palm. Their slightly slurred speech rambles onto an unfamiliar person. A person’s who sneer feels so much more diabolical than Villain’s.

Villain doesn’t think much of it, til after the grandiose party ended, when the suspicious person is the only thing keeping Hero standing. The person spoke commandingly to Hero, occasionally making exaggerated gestures or patting at Hero for emphasis. A few moments by, and they leave Hero leaning up against the building. The perfect chance to investigate.

Villain cheerily asks, “If it isn’t the city’s greatest in decades. How are you Mr. Hero?”

“Just...waiting”, Hero half breathes, their now heavily slurred speech weighing down their tone.

“Waiting for what?”

“Person promised to...take me home...”

Villain says it on whim, “Why don’t I take you home?”

“Sure”

Hero would never agree to let a stranger take them home. Villain just stands there, staring dumbfoundedly at their enemy. The thought of that diabolical smile returning, and a stupid IOU from three years ago powers Villain’s next course of action.

It is a hustle to get Hero to the car, better yet in it. Villain supports Hero by supporting them like a wounded soldier. The entire way down the building’s front steps, and down the still bustling sidewalk, Hero pointlessly babbles into Villain’s ear. 

Villain fails to notice how Hero grows heavier. They fail to notice the babbling becoming completely incoherent and silent at odd intervals. Hero stops contributing to walking, the talking halts, and their breath slows. Once a few steps away from the car Hero slumps against Villain.

Villain swings the passenger car door open with one hand, carelessly stuffing Hero inside. They keep reiterating the old IOU in their head. You’ve saved my life, I save yours. You’ve saved my life, I save yours. After scrambling to get limp limbs out of the doors way, Villain quickly puts themself behind the wheel.

They glance over at the mess next to them. A strange rosiness warms their face. Hero is as awkwardly positioned in that seat as they can get. 

They mumble one last thing before falling into a deep sleep, “Seat....belt...”

Of course. Villain heaves an exasperated huff, fumbling around to secure the needy Hero’s seatbelt. The car starts up. Villain drives the pairing away from the building, repeatedly checking the mirror for that suspicious person. When assured that the person is out of sight, Villain rules Hero’s house a place of compromised safety.

I will bring them to my apartment. It isn’t much, but it’s safer than Mr. Everyone Knows Where I Live Guy.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Coworkers...2!

WIP scenes from stuff that will most likely end up in Coworkers or Snapshots.

-

March 2558

The gray ceiling stares back at him and Jared sighs again and fidgets in his bunk, leg jiggling as he chews on the inside of his mouth.

Reports submitted, gym time done and logged, and his schedule cleared until the Infinity returns to Earth and gets her new orders. They're fine and there's nothing to do but take stock and recover.

It's just that less than 48 hours ago, the ship was anchored to a planet being dragged into a star.

Jared exhales a shaky breath and calls to the ceiling. "Hey, Roland?"

Half a second passes before the AI in question responds, "Need something, Spartan Miller?"

Jared's breath catches and he stalls by sitting up and facing forward towards the camera in the corner.

"Roland, are-" He starts, "-how long til we get to Earth?"

"We have 22 hours in slipspace before we reach Earth." Roland says matter of factly "Was there something else you needed?"

He sounds so calm, and he's not even poking at Jared or asking why he's so impatient.

"Are you...busy?" He asks, wincing at how he sounds and how stupid the question is. Of course Roland's busy, he's running the ship.

"Is everything alright, Miller?" Roland says as he deploys his avatar to the holo in Miller's room. The little golden pilot stands tall and confident, save for its crossed arms and head cocked to the side.

"Yeah, well actually," Jared sighs and leans against the bulkhead as he wraps his arms around his knees. "I wanted to ask if you were okay after the whole 'hurtling towards a star thing' cuz being honest, I'm still shaken. It was....close."

He tugs at his ear and avoids looking at Roland as he speaks. "Thanks for your help on Ops, we wouldn't have made it without you."

"Hey now, we made it! And you did great!" He raises a hand and gestures at Jared with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Then Roland makes his avatar sit cross-legged across from Miller, something Jared has never seen before.

"If we're being honest, I was nervous, and I shouldn't have admitted that in front of you and Crimson. No one wants to hear that the computer is nervous about their chances." He sighs and clasps his hands as Jared sits forward to listen.

"Roland..."

"Seriously Miller, you, Crimson, Majestic, and Commander Palmer risked your lives and got the job done. And you helped get them home before Requiem went up in flames...But yeah, it was close, really close. I'm never going to forget that."

Jared looks at Roland's avatar sitting there, small and folded in on itself rather than posing in the proud stance it usually portrays. He remembers how young Roland is, how this is his first exposure to real combat and missions. Jared had already been stationed on the Infinity before Roland, who had been brought on in December. His second full month aboard was a nightmare. Jared had been the one asking for comfort after the nightmare they went through but now he feels the need to cheer up the AI.

"It gets easier, or you get used to it and find ways to tamp it down and compartmentalize. Then you can use it for the next problem that comes up." Jared finds himself picking his words carefully, offering them like a clumsy olive branch. "And you did good, real good. I wouldn't have been able to do the tech stuff half as quick as you."

-

October 2558

It’s a few days after they’ve recovered everyone from Sanghelios' orbit. Blue Team and Fireteam Osiris are still being checked over and assigned new orders. He’s keeping a close eye on Dr. Halsey since she’s back aboard, circuits shuddering at the memory of the last time the good doctor graced them with her presence. Roland feels stretched thin, more than he ever has, every part of him fielding distress calls, randomizing their jumps, calculating risks, all on top of his usual duties with the Infinity. He triple-checks the dumb AI, no sign of tampering from Her. Despite the extra work, he’s been subdued, fading into the background. Weighing the choice of when to speak or summon his avatar.

There have been looks and whispers, his crew has been through a lot, and the bad news keeps rolling in. A small part of him wants to shout at the injustice of it all; he chose them, chose their safety and freedom when they cannot and will not guarantee his. But he chose them, will always choose them, to keep them safe. More than his programming, it’s something deeper, instinctual. In his nature.

Roland’s distracted from his musings when Commander Palmer calls for him, and he finds her in her least favorite spot. Behind her desk, where she’s buried in reports and requisitions. If anyone could understand his frustration at their choice of running instead of fighting, it’d be her.

Leadership and experience has tempered her anger into a fine blade, though she still wields it like a hammer now and then. But for now she helps with humanity’s triage.

He likes her. It’s good to get along with your coworkers, but beyond that he appreciates Palmer’s bluntness. An intensely private, mostly professional Spartan, she could be counted on when everything went to hell, and he had, on more than one occasion. 

Their work concluded, he waits a moment, letting the amicable silence sit between them as she taps away at her keyboard. He receives a raised eyebrow for his infinite patience, and a look that would make even the most hardened marine blanch. 

"Aren't you going to ask? You wouldn't be the first." 

"Don't need to. You already made your choice."

Then she makes a face like she bit into a lemon.

"Unless you...want to talk about it . Or your feelings."

A grin forms on his avatar’s face, and he can’t help but brighten.

“No, I’m good, Commander. Wouldn’t want to ruin your image.”