#and the shift lead just looking at them with a deep deep suffering sigh

[utenixx]

Walking into the night shift for the first time in like a year my dearest night coworkers let's walk hand in hand and harass the thieves once more

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

idk if this counts for headcanon, but since Harveston event is here

How would boys react to their girlfriend casually walking by on the snow and then she takes next step the snow collapses and she gets stuck in the snow, her fohead bearly vissible above it, and she can't get out 😂? ( it's something that happend to me and it was hollirious to me and my familly)

for Idia, Jade, Sebek, Epel and since I have one more lets add Malleus (even though he isn't originally there 😂)

also ..if it's not a problem could I just ask if my previous asks made it in ? I was just wondering if I didn't submit them past the time when asks were open 😅

Epel Felmier:

Epel knows the perils of snow banks more than anyone, having to dig his way out of a few when he was younger. He’s still surprised to be on the other end of it, with you in view one second then gone the next. He seemed more panicked than you, the trapped, displaying snow as quickly as he could to lead you to freedom. He sighed in relief when he confirmed you were just fine, seeming nervous that you might not like the area as much because of the experience.

Idia Shroud:

Idia is immediately alarmed when he doesn’t feel you at his side, head whipping around as he wondered if you finally decided to break up with him and leave him in an icy tundra to deal with his feelings. When he looks down and sees you buried deep in the snow his panic gained more experience, leveling up as he already concluded you were suffering from hypothermia, never meant to feel the warmth of the sun again. He has enough sense to help you out, only greeted with your nonsensical question of what might happen if him and his hair were the ones buried in the snow.

Jade Leech:

Jade would check if you were okay, the grin on his face betraying his concerned tone. He wondered how dangerous snow could be, contemplating unnecessary questions like if someone could drown in snow if left there long enough or if the cold would get to them first. Once you’re safe he stated the cold isn’t that bad, and that it was good practice before he dragged you into the depths of the ocean (to meet his parents, of course).

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus at least showed enough care to pull you out of your icy prison before laughing at you. Thankfully, seeing a smile on his face and hearing his deep chuckle distracted you entirely from being embarrassed. You’d probably dive in headfirst again if you’d get the same reaction out of him. Malleus offered his arm, telling you to stick close as he didn’t want to lost you in another snow pile.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek nearly looked you over but did a double take as snow shifted, calling your name in shock. He, no hesitation, reached into the snow to hoist you out, not even considering the use of magic. He proceeded to brush you off, pushing all snow to the ground until you looked fresh, like you had just walked outside. It was nice that he cared but you still felt embarrassed when he scolded you about watching your step.

[nina-ya]

Law Helping You Relax

Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None WC: ~750 A/N: gasp 2 posts in one day?? Who am I??? LMAO anyways I've been drowning in work lately and I just want Law to pull me away and help me relax sooooo thats where this came from :) Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

“You look like you can use a breather,” Law’s voice breaks your focus as you feel calloused hands gliding over your shoulders. Despite the disruption, you persist, continuing the work you’ve been immersed in for hours now. 

The raven-haired man sighs audibly, shifting behind you. He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he insists, “That’s not a suggestion. You need a break.” One of his hands clasps yours, halting your work, while the other hand starts massaging your shoulder, easing the tension that has built up over the hours. 

Succumbing to the allure of relaxation, you sigh in contentment. “Since when are you one to advocate for a break? I always see you working nonstop.” You ask, locking eyes with him.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” Law retorts, voice laced with a playful undertone. 

“Fine, but only for 5 minutes,” you concede, allowing the sensation of relaxation to envelop you completely. 

Law continues the motion of massaging your shoulder, the tension relieving with each touch of his. He then pauses somewhat abruptly, as if struck with an idea. Without warning, he firmly grasps your arm and hoists you up from where you were sitting.

“Huh? What are you–” Your protest was cut off as he began to pull you out of the room. “Wait, but I’m not done yet,” you continue, lightly resisting his pull.

“Last time I checked, I still have 3 minutes of your time, so come on,” he retorts, a determination evident in his voice as he guides you onto the deck of the submarine. He leads you towards the railings before sitting down. He taps the spot next to him, silently urging you to join him.

You hesitate for a moment before complying, sitting down next to him. He immediately pulls you into his side, his warmth enveloping you. 

As if he can sense your thoughts, he speaks up, his voice low. “You needed a change of scenery. You’ve been cooped up in there all day. I bet you didn’t even know it was nighttime until I dragged you out here.”

"I’m not ignorant, I knew that it’s night. It’s not even that late anyways, it’s barely 11” you retort, trying to assert your awareness. 

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of Law’s lips. “3,’ he stated simply.

“What?” you ask, puzzled by his ambiguousness. 

“It’s 3am. You’re about four hours off,” he clarified, amusement evident in his tone. 

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, the realization sinking in that Law is right. You indeed have lost track of time and now you are suffering the consequences. Your earlier declaration of just a five-minute break has faded into the background, as exhaustion creeps up on you. Law seems to take your silence as some sort of victory, leaning his head back against the railing as he gazes up at the star-studded sky above. 

Dots of light freckle the region above, a beautiful and somewhat uncommon sight to behold out at sea since the submarine is usually submerged underwater. You follow Law’s gaze, taking in the breathtaking sight before you. As if on cue, a shooting star streaks across the sky.

“Make a wish,” you mutter softly, feeling the weight of the exhaustion settle upon you. “I don’t know about you, but I wish I could just finish this work already,” you continue with a deep sigh. 

“I’m pretty sure your wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud,” Law remarks, his eyes still fixed on the twinkling heavens above.

“Since when do you believe in that stuff?” you ask, curiosity coloring your tone.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It comes and goes,” he replies cryptically, as if he is lost in thought. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a soft chuckle at Law’s comment, finding his puzzling statement amusing, Snuggling closer into his side, you welcome the comfort and warmth he provides. A gentle breeze dances across your skin, prompting you to instinctively try and seek warmth in Law’s embrace. 

Law notices this, and he reaches out, opening his captain’s coat to drape it over you. Pulling you even closer, he envelops you in a newfound warmth. What had started as a five-minute break has morphed into a much needed respite. As you nestle against him, your breathing gradually slows, the rhythmic rocking of the ship beneath you lulling you into a sense of calmness. Sleep soon embraces you, Law’s arms holding you throughout the night, helping you escape in the dream world before facing what the next day might hold.

[a-living-canvas]

A Sadist and A Saint

"You want to pray?"

Whumpee nodded, their eyes silently pleading to Whumper. There's not much they can do down here but they would be grateful if Whumper would be so merciful for them this time.

Whumper sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he pondered carefully. It wouldn't take that much time and it would be harmless anyway. Finally, Whumper nodded as he crossed his arms under his chest. "Sure, you can. But make it fast."

Whumpee beamed up, "Thank you! Thank you, master!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Whumper let Whumpee used his bedroom as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching them closely. Their movements and their soft whispers. It intrigued him, as an atheist. Maybe he could learn a little about how religions work, how this world functions with them.

Whumper might look down at people around him all the time, but he never prides himself as a highest being, much less as a God. He's just a normal guy with selfish needs and selfish wants.

After Whumpee finished with their business, Whumper pulled their wrist to sit on the bed beside him. Ruffling their hair, Whumper asked, "Do you ask anything from your God?"

Whumpee seemed a bit stunned from the question but they nodded anyway. Whumper hummed, he thought for a moment before asking the next question. "What did you ask for?"

"...I asked for forgiveness."

Whumpee swung their legs playfully as they looked up at Whumper. Whumper raised an eyebrow at the answer. "Forgiveness? For what?"

"Hmm for my past mistakes that lead me to end up here."

Whumper frowned."...You think me torturing you is a punishment for your sins?"

Whumpee nodded. Whumper pinched the bridge of his nose, confused. He tried to wrap his mind around what Whumpee said but he just couldn't. He didn't even know what Whumpee did in the past. He just kidnap and torture them for—

"I do this for fun, Whumpee. I don't even know you. Do you think if I release you or you finally escape that means He forgives you?"

Whumpee gulped down nervously. They fidgeted with their hands. "I-I'm a bad person. I made many mistakes and I really regretted it. I want to atone for my sins…"

"Huh…" Whumper looked at them with a blank expression. "That's why you never fight me, huh? Because you think you deserve it."

Whumper shifted slightly to face Whumpee. "But what if you never escape? What if you die here?"

Whumpee's eyes widened a tad bit before casting it downward. "T-that just means I'm meant to die here, then…"

"Oh, is that so?"

Whumper stood up and walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Whumpee waited patiently, along with a slight anxiety. When Whumper returned again, Whumpee's heart stopped beating for a moment.

They backed away, climbing further up to the bed. Whumper chuckled, slowly walked towards them and grabbed their arms, preventing them from running away. He sat on Whumpee's midriff, his legs holding his arms securely.

"M-master, please! I thought we were done for the—"

"Oh, we are. This is not to torture you, this is to kill you."

Whumper trailed the tip of the knife across Whumpee's throat, not too light but not too deep to cut their skin. He relished in Whumpee's soft whimpers as he chuckled a little. "Why are you so scared? I thought you were ready for this. You want to make up for your bad deeds, right?"

"Y-yes, but—"

"But what? You are a sinful person, aren't you? You don't deserve to live." Whumper tipped Whumpee's chin up with the knife. "A waste of oxygen."

"M-master please…don't kill..m-me…"

Whumper hummed, he brought the knife to Whumpee's lips and sliced the middle part of it slowly. Whumpee winced in pain, the familiar metallic smell entering their nostrils. "You know, Whumpee, I had a vision."

Whumper caressed Whumpee's bloody lips, smearing the blood across their cheeks. "I wanted to die with my body lying in a pool of blood. I wanted to cut my body as much as I could and suffer in pain until I die. Because I thought I deserve that kind of ending."

Whumpee let out a shaky exhale when Whumper poked their collarbone a few times with the sharp edge. "But not anymore, I want to live. In fact, I need to live to make people suffer a little. You can't be happy all the time you know."

He smiled, his lips turning into a creepy grin. "I wonder how many cuts it would be until you finally die…"

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606 @heyyitsworld @htavin87 @jennyyy007 @electrons2006 @valravnthefrenchie @theforeverdyingperson

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Prompt 25 with Secondo married to the Reader!

I'm so sorry this took fucking ages. I'd make excuses, but I don't really have a good one.

Anyway, I haven't forgotten the others either! I'm still working on them!

Includes: Second x Reader, fluff, domestic fluff, minor drug mention. Nothing too serious.

____________________________________________________________

It was late, you couldn’t have said what time exactly, but you’d been lying halfway between waking and sleep for a while. Curled up against Secondo’s side, head on his chest. He didn’t seem to be having any more luck than you with sleeping, based on the lack of snores. But still, his voice in the quiet of the night was startling.

“… You were right.” He muttered, almost as if he were hoping you’d be to close to sleeping to hear.

“Hmm?” You replied, keeping your head down to hide your triumphant smile. “Say that again?”

Secondo growled softly, cursing under his breath. “I say you were right.” He huffed.

“I usually am.” You struggle desperately not to laugh. “Can you narrow it down?”

“You are enjoying this.”

Oh, you knew that grumpy tone and heard the pout in his voice. You shifted and moved higher up the bed to look at him. Kissing his shoulder and his neck, nuzzling his jaw. “I hear so rarely from you that I’m right. Will you let me enjoy myself just a little?”

He let out a deep sigh, as if it were the greatest concession he could possibly make, but he did at least turn his head to look at you. “Il cerotto termico ha aiutato.”

In truth, you were much happier to hear that than you’d ever be about being right. His back had been giving him trouble all week and, despite your best efforts, he refused to accept any help. It would pass. He was fine. Stop your fussing. You treat him like an old man. That was, until it started affecting things noticeably in the bedroom.

It started with him suddenly having a preference for being ridden. It came to a breaking point when a little too much fun lead to a painful grunt and him spending the rest of the night holding very still, lying on the floor, offering anything he could think of as sacrifice to the Dark Lord if his back would just stop spasming. You’d even gone and dragged poor Primo out of bed, not daring to risk bringing someone from the infirmary and stoke his frustration any more. Primo, at least, would talk sense to him. Or force feed him a remedy if it came down to it.

Whatever the hell it was Primo had made him take definitely made his back hurt less. It also turned him into a puddle of giggles and drool on the living room floor. You’d set up a makeshift bed next to him, too worried to leave him in that state alone, and spent the rest of the night asleep on the floor. Grateful that he didn’t get it into his head to stand up and wander off.

When morning had rolled around, Secondo was more lucid, certainly. But his back was still threatening to become a problem again. “Enough is enough! That ego of yours is just intent on suffering to prove something and I’m not even sure what! Your back hurts, Secondo. It happens to everyone. And you are not twenty any more, as much as you don’t want to hear that. Now, will you please let me help?”

He had, though admittedly sullen about it, agreed. He didn’t want pills and he didn’t want any more of what Primo had, not if he expected to be productive. But you did manage to bargain your way up to the heat patches. One for his lower back and another for his neck and shoulders. Even then he insisted on inspecting them, making sure they weren’t scented, and could be tucked under his robes. Lucifer forbid someone realise he was but a mortal man. He also insisted on grumping about them and making it very clear he didn’t think they would work.

So you did feel a little justified in the smug smile. Even if it meant he scowled at you and rolled his eyes. Besides, the scowl was easy enough to deal with. All it took was cupping his cheek and kissing him deeply.

“Sono solo felice che tu non stia soffrendo così tanto. Odio vederti soffrire, amore mio.” You whispered, lips brushing against his. “Thank you for letting me help you.”

He sighed once more but there was the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I get rid of the pain in my back. Now I still have this pain in my ass.”

That one earned him a nipple pinch even if you had to laugh. “Stronzo! And I was just going to tell you how much I’ve been missing you this week!”

Secondo’s hand slid up into your hair, gripping firmly enough to feel it, and pulled you into another kiss. His other hand tracing a path from your hip to your shoulder.

“Allora dovrò far sì che valga la pena aspettare.”

_________________________________________________________

Il cerotto termico ha aiutato. = The thermal patch helped.

Sono solo felice che tu non stia soffrendo così tanto. Odio vederti soffrire, amore mio. = I'm just happy you're not in as much pain. I hate to see you suffer, my love.

Stronzo! = Asshole!

Allora dovrò far sì che valga la pena aspettare. = Then I'll have to make it worth the wait.

[fadingtostardust]

Micro Fic- Forgive Me Father

Father Remus, Jegulus, Confessional

The confessional door opens and closes.

“Forgive me Father Lupin... for I have sinned. My last confession was 6 weeks ago.”

“What ails you my child?”

“I have been having — unholy thoughts.”

“Please, divulge your sin to me, that I might offer forgiveness to you through Christ.”

Father Lupin hears a deep sigh through the confessional grate.

"I wanna fuck a priest."

"Catholic?"

"Yes.”

"A good one?”

"Yes."

"Looks good in the…"

"Mhm. Yes.'"

"I understand. Do you really want to fuck a priest or do you want to fuck God?"

"Can you fuck God?"

Remus chuckles, for he has always had a good sense of humor, "Oh, yes."

…

"This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins."

"It seems my child that you might have some… proclivity for things forbidden… things with power. When you catch yourself in this longing, work to shift your thoughts to admiration and respect. Serve the priests and learn to know them as people. They give their lives to serve our one true father in heaven. They are NOT there to satiate your sexual compulsions.”

"Yes Father, forgive me."

"My god, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good. I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy."

"God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to themself and poured out the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the church may God grant you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit."

"Amen."

"You may go, my child. School your thoughts and become whole through Christ."

Father Lupin hears the confessional door open and close, only to be quickly followed by a sharp gasp. Out of concern, Father Lupin opens his door and comes to see, he presumes, his recent confessor staring at the line of seminarians (priests in training) that just entered the hall. One in particular has caught his eye. Father Lupin follows the man's line of sight to one seminarian, Regulus Black. Father Lupin runs his hand over his face as he knew Regulus would catch too much attention, what with his alabaster skin, blue grey eyes, and black hair that frames his face in curls. What was he supposed to do though? Reject a contrite heart looking to escape the horrors of his corrupt family into the loving arms of his father in heaven?! Absolutely not.

The tan man looks back to Father Lupin with large brown pleading eyes. "Is he God? The one you said I could fuck?"

Remus rolls his eyes HARD. Heaven help me.

[jahayla-parker]

My Darling, your Freddy fluff fics are sooooo comforting 😭❤️

Might I request Freddy helping fem!reader through/after a panic attack? Whatever you're comfortable with. ❤️❤️❤️

Anxious Love : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 3.5k wc, Freddy Carter helps the reader through and after an anxiety attack. (I’m aware that anxiety and panic attacks are different as I suffer from both, but after discussing with the requester I’ve settled on this being semi generic but referred to as anxiety as it is statistically more common and I want people to hopefully get comfort from this).

Warnings: anxiety/panic attacks discussed and described, self doubt, that’s it. It’s hurt-comfort.

“Freddy” y/n whimpered quietly, tapping his shoulder.

Noticing her tone, Freddy swiftly spun around, his eyes instantly inspecting her for injuries, “Darling, what’s the matter?”

She opened her mouth but closed it again, unable to form the words to express her predicament.

Freddy noticed and saw the shaking in her hands, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

Once she gave him a weak nod, he stepped closer, “come here love “

He pulled her closer to him, holding her as tight as he could, “I know it’s hard, but breathe with me okay? Just focus on my breath, nothing else”.

Y/n swallowed the nausea building in her and nodded.

“How are you doing?” Freddy whispered into her hair.

“My chest hurts, Freddy, I can’t breathe” she hiccuped, gasping.

He frowned, rubbing her back, “you can breathe. I know your mind is telling you otherwise, but you can breathe”.

She whimpered and buried her head against his chest, fisting his shirt tightly.

“Breathe for me please” he encouraged, rubbing his hand through her hair.

“Stop telling me to breathe! If I could breathe, I would’ve done it already!” She cried, her legs trembling under her.

Freddy sighed, irritability was normal with anxiety, he knew that.

But, he knew it must be serious, she hadn’t snapped like that before.

Deciding they needed to be done for the day, Freddy hooked his arm under y/N’s armpit to keep her upright.

“Lean on me” he whispered as they began walking, her knees nearly buckling.

Silently, she pressed more weight onto him as she zoned out straight ahead.

Freddy’s eyes locked onto her as he lead them to his car.

“I’m sorry” she cried with guilt, pulling away from his side.

“It’s okay, love, let’s-“ he began, but she shook her head rapidly.

“I- I need to s.. sit d-..” she mumbled, feeling dizzy.

He rushed back to her, guiding her to the cement blocks surrounding the water feature outside.

Once she was seated, he kneeled before her, grabbing her hands, “thank you for telling me y/n. Now, I want you to look in my eyes”.

She glanced over at him but footsteps around the corner shifted her attention.

“I know, but just look at me please. You’re safe, you’re okay, and you’re going to get through this” he soothed, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Freddy listened as y/n took short and shaky breaths, slowly moving her eyes back to his.

“You’re doing great love, just look in my eyes, I won’t let anything happen to you” he assured her tenderly.

“Can you hear my voice?” Freddy asked after she held his gaze for a minute or so without deviating.

Taking a deep breath she whispered a faint yes.

He smiled at her, “wonderful. Now, to help you better, can you tell me what happened?”

Freddy squeezed her hand as he felt her fingers tense at his question.

“It’s been bad all day” she admitted, free hand running through her hair.

He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I couldn’t focus, I’m really tired, and, and my heart, it, it won’t “ She rambled, tears in her eyes.

Freddy felt his heart shatter the way it always did when she was in such despair.

He brushed some hair from her sweaty forehead, “shhh, I get it love. Any trigger today?”.

He didn’t want to push, but he wanted to be able to offer more help and the best way to do that would be to address the cause.

Freddy knew y/n had anxiety so often times it was unprovoked, but she also dealt with panic attacks as well which had triggers.

He wasn’t sure which one caused today’s discomfort.

“No… just really an-anxious” she sighed, rubbing her sternum over her shirt as she simultaneously shivered.

Freddy instantly noticed her anxiety induced sensitivity to the cold, and peeled off his coat.

He quickly wrapped it around her shoulders, smiling softly as she grabbed the sides and curled into it.

Now that she wasn’t reacting to each sound around them, he decided to have her do some grounding techniques.

“Y/n, can you tell me five things you can see?” He asked quietly, buttoning the coat over her making it more of a poncho as her arms were not in the sleeves.

She groaned, “I hate this game”.

Freddy nodded, “I know love, but come on”.

She sniffled, her nose running a bit.

Freddy used his sleeve to wipe her face, “Fine, how about five things that are green?”

Y/N’s eyes scanned their surroundings, “The tree… that car, …….. the…..- I can’t do this”.

Freddy shuffled closer, kissing the up of her head as her breathing picked up again.

“Yes you can. Listen, I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so well love. You said the tree, the car, what else? What else is green?” He redirected her.

“The… grass” she said, looking up at Freddy.

He smiled at her and nodded encouragingly.

“Umm… that guy’s shirt” y/n pointed after a moment.

Freddy pressed his lips into a fine line as he noticed her hand shaking significantly less than early.

“Mmm, what else?” He asked.

She looked around, grip tight on his hand, “That hill?”

Freddy nodded as she glanced back at him, “that works. Now, what are four things that are blue?”

Y/n gave him an irritated expression but began to scan for items matching items request.

“The water fountain” She said, looking next to her.

Freddy smiled and nodded.

“The sign there “ y/n added, holding two fingers out on her free hand.

“Your jeans” she said, a faint nervous giggle leaving her lips.

Freddy squeezed her hand and smiles widely, “very good love, one more?”

She looked around for a few seconds, not noticing the way her shaking had faded and heart slowed.

Her eyes cast to the sky, “the sky today”.

Freddy heard the whimsical sound of her voice and smiled to himself, “it is beautiful, huh?”

She nodded, still keeping her eyes locked above her.

After letting her zone out on the clear sky above them for a few moments, her breathing slowing, he spoke quietly.

“Three things that are yellow?” Freddy questioned.

“That BMW” y/n answered, looking at the parking lot.

He grinned, pleased she was giving more detailed descriptions than before; suggesting she was able to concentrate more.

“The posts in the parking lot” she added, turning back to him.

He nodded, rubbing her cheek tenderly.

“I don’t see anything else” she mumbled.

Freddy looked around, there weren’t nearly as many yellow items but there still were more to name.

“Just one more love, don’t rush,” he soothed, lowering his hand to hers.

She stared into his eyes and took a deep breath before letting her eyes wander the area.

“That plant?” She asked Freddy.

Freddy kissed her forehead, pleased it wasn’t as clammy now, “two white items?”

Y/n didn’t resist this time and instead quickly pointed to the door they’d exited, “the set door”.

Without waiting for him to remind her to find another, she searched for another white object.

Freddy watched her silently, his eyes analyzing her body language to see how she was doing.

His fingers discreetly slid around the hand he was holding, moving to feel her pulse.

Just as he noticed that her heart rate has calmed, she smiled softly, “your teeth”.

Freddy chuckled, unaware he’d smiled when checking her pulse.

“One y/f/c?” He smiled, saving her favorite color for last.

“My bag” she said without pause, her eyes still on Freddy’s.

He nodded, smiling proudly at her, “excellent love”.

She yawns and grins shyly at Freddy.

Chuckling, he slowly raises to a standing position, “how do your legs feel?”.

Y/n smiles widely at him as a form of appreciation for helping her, “they’re okay”.

“And your head? Anymore lightheadedness?” He questions, holding the outside of her biceps as she sits up straighter.

“Nope” she assures him, getting ready to stand.

“Alright” he smiles, “cause if you’re lying and you pass out on me, I’ll tickle you until you wake up”.

She gasped and shook her head, “you wouldn’t dare Freddy!”

He smirked and kissed her cheek as he helped her stand, “if you hid it from me, yes I would. After bringing you to the hospital, that is”.

Y/n giggled and yawned again as he wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

“Let’s get you home for a nap Hmm?” Freddy suggested, guiding them to the car.

“It’s early honey” she argued, another yawn following.

He smiled sweetly down at her, stroking her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder, “I’m aware, but you’ve had a challenging morning and it’s okay for it to have tired you out. That’s normal”.

She hummed and snuggled into his side more, his coat still hung loosely over her.

Freddy cautiously watched her as they entered the parking lot and approached his car.

“Watch your head love” he reminded her as he opened her door for her.

Y/n slowly slid into the seat.

As he went to close the door, he laughed and pulled it back open, “we should probably remove this first”.

He gently unbuttoned his coat from around her as her arms were trapped under it.

Freddy kissed her nose as she pouted at him, “if you want to actually put your arms in the sleeves, you can still wear it darling. But I need you to be buckled in, so your arms need to be free”.

She nodded, “I don’t want to get out, can I umm.. just…”

Freddy waited patiently as he let her try to find the word she was searching for.

Y/n groaned, tugging on her roots in frustration over not being able to find the simple word.

“Shh, Shh, Shh, hey now. Love, don’t do that” he whispered, delicately uncurling her fingers from her hair.

“I.. gah! It’s a simple word and it’s right there, but I just-“ she sighed, looking down at her feet resting on his car’s floorboard.

Freddy frowned, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes, “darling, give yourself a break. Alright? It’s okay to still be a little disoriented and foggy”.

She gave him a weak smile and nodded.

He smiled back and pressed his lips to the crown of her head, “I’m serious y/n. This is normal for anxiety, you know that. I’m sorry it’s frustrating, but it doesn’t make me think any less of you. So please don’t let it make you think less of yourself”.

She leaned back until their heads parted, reaching her hand up to cup his cheek, “thank you Freddy”.

Freddy beamed and nodded, “always, now, were you asking to hold it?”

Y/n’s smile grew, “yes”.

He leaned down, kissing her forehead as he rested his coat in her lap, “there ya are love, now, watch your feet”.

Freddy double checked her legs weren’t in the way of the doorframe before closing her door.

He rushed around to his side, promptly sliding in and starting the car, “we’ll be home soon”.

She looked over at him, one hand holding his coat to her nose, breathing in his scent.

Y/n’s other hand reached for his, Freddy shifting his grip on the steering wheel to be able to hold her hand.

He smiled over at her, rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb, “thank you for coming to me. I’m really proud of you”.

She smiled shyly, “thank you for helping me… again”.

Freddy noticed while she was sincere, there was a note of guilt or embarrassment in her voice.

He squeezed her hand, glancing away for a second to watch the road.

When he looked back at her as they pulled to a stop, he whispered, “‘ey love, none of that. Yeah? You know I’m always happy to be there for you when you need me”.

She curled the side of her mouth upwards in a weak smile, “You know I really do love you right? I know I’m not the best at showing it but I-“

Freddy scrunched his brows together as he looked at the road.

He knew he needed to go, it was his turn, but he couldn’t put this discussion off.

So, he found a spot on the side of the road, pulling his car over so he could stop and look only at her.

“Y/n, don’t you ever doubt that. I know you love me” Freddy stated, shifting to face her.

"Okay, good. Cause… Freddy…I know I'm hard to love and I'm all broken inside, but I promise you, I'm loving you with everything I am. I'm loving you with all my pieces” she whispered, eyes boring into his.

Freddy felt his eyes water as he listened to her kind words, “darling…”

He unbuckled his seat, reaching out for her.

She set the jacket in her lap and leaned over the console, wrapping her arms around him.

“Sweetheart, as much as I love hearing you say you love me, where is this coming from? Hmm? Why do you feel you’re hard to love or that I don’t know you love me?” He inquired, rubbing the back of her head.

She sniffled, snuggling closer to him, now sitting on the console in a desperate attempt to be nearer to him.

“Y/n, love?” He asked, concern laced in his voice when he noticed her erratic breathing.

She leaned back enough to peer up at him, “I'm scared, okay? I'm scared that one day you're going to wake up and not love me anymore. I'm scared that you're going to get sick of my craziness and my need for constant reassurance that you aren't leaving me. I'm scared that you're going to get fed up with my panic and anxiety attacks. Most of all, I'm scared that you're going to see me the way I see myself. And I feel selfish for asking this, but… Just please, please don't leave me."

Freddy’s mouth parted slightly as his jaw lowered at her response.

It took him time to compose his thoughts so he pulled her to him, holding her tightly.

“First,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m never leaving you. Especially not over something like this”.

He pressed a light kiss to her earlobe, “second, I will never not love you. I know you would normally tease me about how one can never know those things for certain. But I’d argue I do. At least when it comes to you. No matter what happens my dear, you are engraved in my heart and soul. Nothing will ever change that, definitely not you needing or wanting me or my help.”

She choked on a whispered sob, sinking into his arms.

Freddy closed his eyes, both his arms and hands tightly holding onto her as he took a breath to keep his voice calm.

“While I wish I could take this all away for you, make it so you never have to experience another panic or anxiety attack or doubt yourself, it doesn’t mean I am bothered by helping you through it” he promised, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like this, but I don’t mind being there for you. I wish it were for another reason, for your sake, but I love and am honored to be able to help you. So while I wish you didn’t have to experience this, I cherish you trusting me and being comfortable enough with me to come to me in those moments” Freddy swore, kissing the tip of her ear.

Y/n cried into his shoulders her tears saturating his tshirt but he wasn’t phased.

“Lastly, my precious darling, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Before, during, after, and between attacks, and just in general. You are my favorite person…. Don’t tell my mum “ he added, both of them giggling softly.

“But you are. And always will be, so you don’t need to worry, about anything. Especially not that my love for you would ever change or that you or your anxiety could ever do something to change it “ Freddy begged, placing slow and soft kisses to the side of her head.

“Seriously, if you don’t stop saying you’re sorry or thanking me, I’ll pull the car over again and kiss you until you do” Freddy teased, squeezing her hand as he neared their place.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She rebutted, voice frail but a smirk on her lips as she stared over at him.

Glancing at her briefly before back at the road, he smirked, “mmm, alright perhaps not such a great one? Change it to the opposite then, no kisses until you stop”.

“No more sorrys or thank yous, got it” she smiled, burying her free hand in his coat on her lap.

Freddy chuckled, smiling over at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, earning more laughter.

Complying with his promise and her silent reminder/request, he took advantage of the next mandated stop in the road to press his lips on hers.

As they pulled apart, she smiled up at him and he kissed her forehead before turning his eyes back to the street.

“Can I change one of my answers?” Y/n mumbled as they walked onto their home, hand-in-hand.

“What?” Freddy asked softly, holding the door open for her.

“From earlier. I want to change one of my answers for blue things to your eyes” she said quietly, looking into his eyes.

Propping the door open with his back, he pulled her to his chest slowly as to not startle her, “very sweet darling, but that’s not how it works love, it is what you notice in the moment”.

She blinked up at him and nodded , “ I know and I did… but in the moment I’d just focused on how calming they were, not the color”.

Freddy blushed and grinned widely, “I think I actually prefer that, love”.

She giggled and nodded, covering her mouth as she yawned.

“Ahh, see you distracted me” He joked, guiding her inside by placing his hand on her tailbone, “It’s time for you to get some rest”.

It took him only minutes to help her change into more comfortable clothing and into their bed.

He grabbed her weighted blanket from their closet, gently placing it over her body.

Kissing her cheek, he spun around and headed back to the closet.

He smiled as his eyes landed on the stuffed animal he was looking for.

Freddy grabbed that and a pair of fuzzy socks before going back to the bedroom.

“I think this guy could help” he said, handing her the stuffed animal that had a weighted bottom.

“Thank you Freddy “ she smiled, her eyes blinking slowly from exhaustion.

He nodded, kneeling down by the end of the bed, “now, these should help with your cold feet, love”.

He carefully pulled the fuzzy socks over her toes and feet, ensuring it didn’t tickle.

He hummed in content as he stood up, pulling the blankets back over her feet.

Glancing towards her, he smiled back at her as he took in the sight of her relaxed facial features and smile on her lips.

“Freddy…” she whispered as he watched her from the doorframe.

He nodded, silently waiting for her to continue.

She bit her lip, wanting to plead with him to stay.

But she was so tired of asking things of him, even if he told her it didn’t bother him.

She didn’t want to have to beg him to stay with her; certainly not after all he’d just done.

Freddy noticed the look in her eyes and her hesitation, quickly putting it together.

He gave her a small smile as he pulled a causal t-shirt from his dresser drawer; his back to her as he silently changed into it.

Y/n watched, hoping he’d decided to stay, but not wanting to get her hopes up.

He then bent down and took out a pair or trousers from his bottom drawer.

Freddy quickly switched bottoms before turning back to her, “is there room for me?”

She smiled widely and nodded rapidly, unnecessarily trying to shuffle to the side more but being stopped by the weight of blankets he had over her, including the 50lb weighted anxiety blanket.

Freddy chuckled, shaking his head at her failed attempts to move.

He lifted the corner of the covers, sliding under the main comforter.

Y/n turned her head to him with a smile.

Freddy adjusted his spot on their bed, moving so she could rest her head on his chest.

She crooked her neck so she could breathe in his cologne and closed her eyes, breathing deeply to keep her heart rate steady.

“That’s it love, you’ve got it” he encouraged, lips resting on the top of her head, “I’m right here, I’ve got you”.

He watched as her head sank into his chest more as sleep overcame her, whispering to the otherwise empty room “ just rest my anxious love. I’ll be here when you wake”.

If you need to speak to someone about anything, including anxiety, panic attacks, depression, etc. please do. Utilize Google and/or this list for your country’s resources

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[campgender]

“Interlude 3” from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy

A role-play scene, played by "Akasha, " a novice top friend.

I woke up with great difficulty and realized my mind was full of thoughts of domination, weird fantasies about devices that I did not own but wished I did. I thought of my friend Richard, and a wonderful night we had shared many months before.

I called him and found him still in bed. I said, "God, I am really having a problem today."

He shifted in his sheets, I could hear it, and said, "Hungry?"

I was doodling, cracking pencil leads and then throwing them away.

"Yes," I said, and I was sort of half shaking, just wanting to make him beg on the phone, make him get out of his warm bed and kneel down, make him whimper, do anything. But I wanted more, so I held back and asked him to see me.

He half moaned and sighed, yawned again, and told me he had class that night. I told him to meet me afterward. He paused, and I felt like I was going to die.

"Richard, please. I'm going crazy. Do this for me, OK?"

"You want to hurt me?" he said softly, making me face it. This was back when it was still hard for me to accept that I enjoyed making men suffer.

It's difficult to describe what a day like that feels like, waiting for the hours to go by, trying to concentrate on work, going one step at a time.

When I am in that mindframe I can smell everything in the air, I can feel mist against my face in the cold air. The moon is more illuminated, the sound of my feet in puddles as I walk somehow thrills me with a feeling of authority.

I arrived at the cafe a few minutes early and waited in the lobby. Richard arrived a few minutes late. When I stood up and hugged him he laughed softly into my ear, "How're you doing?" I just moaned and started fingering his hair, tugging at it a little. We parted and I looked at him again, blinking. I felt weak, numb. I wanted to take him by the hair and force him to his knees. Instead I said weakly, "You probably haven't eaten yet. Can I buy you dinner?"

When his food arrived I stole his silverware and he laughed. "I'm serious," I told him in a low voice. "I am feeding you this entire meal." His eyes searched around the room and he lowered his voice, "Come on, people will see. We can take care of you when we get home. Let me eat."

Any other night I wouldn't think twice about him eating dinner across from me. But in that mood, on that night, I wanted to be the one feeding him. I wanted to make him part his lips each time I lifted the spoon. I wanted to make him beg with his eyes for more, or look at me longingly. Or I wanted to force him to do it.

I leaned over the table and we argued a bit about it, finally compromising in that I would feed him the first few bites and then let him finish. Knowing that he hated doing it but would submit to it for a few minutes was enough for now.

When we got into my room he sat on the edge of my bed then finally lay down, spreading his arms out and sighing tiredly. I slid down and moved on top of him, moving my hands up to his wrists and holding them down there. His eyes flickered open and he stared at me expressionlessly, waiting.

I consider it true, deep headspace when I am capable, without hesitation, of exercising acts of cruelty or power as if they were second nature. These are things that I would never do in a normal state of mind. On that night I slipped into it relatively easily, maybe because I had been lingering around the edges of it for so long.

I set up a series of short scenes, because my appetite was varied and I wanted to satisfy it all. Sometimes I want total resistance, sometimes I want fear, sometimes I want pathetic, eager submission. That night I wanted them all.

I used every single restraint device on him that I had, in every position I could imagine. I kept a hand over his mouth most of the night and wrestled him to the ground three or four different times, ordering him to feign resistance until I hurt him into submitting.

I roleplayed kidnapping him, interrogating him, seducing him, and fucking him. I had an orgasm just from the way he felt against me as I took him against his will, one hand holding his head back by a fistful of hair and the other over his mouth to muffle his protests.

For the grand finale I put him in my chair and handcuffed his wrists behind his back, taking my wall mirror down and putting it behind him ,so I could see his wrists and enjoy the way they looked while still facing him. "I put water in his hair to simulate sweat and messed it up, tied his ankles together, and told him I was going to kill him.

He put his head down solemnly and I walked around a bit, touching his skin gently, telling him how pretty and helpless he looked. He shifted, and struggled uselessly, then lifted his head to me and looked at me with his teeth clenched, saying "You have to let me go. Don't do this to me."

I leaned down and held his face in my hands, putting my lips close to his, licking them gently. "Kiss me goodbye, my tortured slave." He shut his eyes and leaned forward to kiss me, hungry, passionate, as if to seduce me with his mouth and tongue. This kiss was long, desperate, and when I broke from it he was breathing hard.

His eyes were pleading, yet strong. "I'm not afraid to die," he said softly.

He always knew the things to say. He was begging, yet he was strong. He was submitting, but he was still powerful. He amazed me.

We had played these execution scenes before so I didn't need to give him any instruction. He was to pretend he had about three minutes left to live, locked in some airtight chamber or given some poisonous gas, and he was to struggle yet remain brave until the moment I came to save him from his fate.

And he really knew how to play it. Perfectly, yet differently every time. The way he pulled at the handcuffs, letting them cut into his wrists as if it didn't matter,. The way he threw his head back to breathe with such pained difficulty, the way he looked at me through wet bangs with desperation, his lashes damp with tears.

I felt so close to orgasm, but it was a different sort of satisfaction. I just watched, emotionless, as his struggles became weaker and his breathing more labored.

Then it hit me, at once, it was like a sensual overload, like an orgasm but of the mind. I shivered, I felt a cold sweat on my body and suddenly I wanted to cry, I thought, "God, what am I doing to him?" I unfastened him quickly and slid into his arms, shaking, telling him I was sorry. He laughed softly into my ear and told me it was okay, that he was acting, and that I needn't feel bad.

But feeling bad makes me feel better, so I spent some time crying, letting him reassure me. We lay down in the bed together and eventually fell asleep after I had sufficient reassurance.

Waking up the next morning I felt a different kind of exhaustion. It's impossible to explain how much dom headspace rips the energy right out of you. Sometimes it takes me days to recover.

[llamamamarisen92]

Tiny Little Bhaal Spawn

When I play dark urge, I always play drow because in my head it kind of just makes sense. But I often think about how when we ask "What the worst thing we've done is" we are told it is freely giving money to a beggar. This leads me to believe that perhaps our dark urge character started with a gentler life. And perhaps Bhaal took great pleasure in breaking those parts of them until they are his most efficient weapon. Kind of like Shar stealing a child of Selune to prove that anyone can be turned evil.

So this is how I kind of envision the beginning of my dark urge characters start to life:

Kiella walked along her little garden in the underdark. She used her magic to bring up some essence of the world above her. When she married Jurren, they fled to the surface. He was born to a great house of Menzoborranzen, but turned his back to be with her. A dancer in Elistrae's grand temple. Her people had broken away from Lolth centuries ago.

Jurren, inspite of how he was raised, was soft and kind. Drawn to the teachings and path of the Seludrine.

They had come back to the underdark in hopes of reconnecting with the temples and building a humble life. She still practiced her ritual dance, but it was not the same without the presence of her sister priests. Jurren dedicated his life to magic, training to become a mage.

As she pulled weeds out from the ground she heard a baby crying. She ran to the screaming child and found a naked infant placed upon a bare rock. It was a baby girl. Her coloring was that of the drow but she quickly noted why the child was likely abandoned. The girl had brown hair. It was not uncommon for Lolth's children to be born with a variety of coloring, but anything that did not meet their cruel standard was often left out to die. Kiella had thick black hair interwoven with veins of ginger. If she was not blessed to be born to one of Ellistrae's followers, this too would be her fate.

She picked up the child and used the scarf tied along her waiste to cover her. "Shhh, dear one. You are safe now."

She walked back to their small home, softly rocking the infant. Hoping to bring some comfort. "I am so sorry that your life has begun in such a cruel fashion. But fear not love, fate has brought you to tender arms still."

When she walked in, Jurren was hunched over his desk studying one of his scrolls. She tapped on his shoulder, startling him a bit.

He turned and smiled until he saw the child in her arms. He himself had the tell tale coloring of a Lolth-sworn. Snow white hair and deep red eyes. Growing up in Menzoberranzen he knew exactly why she stumbled upon this infant. Fear drove his initial reaction.

He stood up and gasped sharply. "Kiella, my gentle dove. We cannot keep her." He saw her eyes flash in defiance.

"I am not allowing a child to die out there!" She held the infant closer to her, turning as he tried to take it from her arms.

"If they find that we have interfered they will hunt us down and kill us."

"Then we will find a place where we are all safe. Including Shinurah. I will not allow her to suffer for their evil." His pleading eyes searched hers. He knew the war was lost when she uttered a name. He also knew that she wanted a child so badly. And unfortunately it was not something the gods had been willing to bestow upon them naturally.

He sighed and gently removed the child from her arms. She watched him like a hawk. He lifted the little girl so that he could get a better look at her. A piece of his heart shifted inside him. "Well, little Shinurah, it seems your mother has not tired of the blades edge."

Fear still very much clung to him like a wet robe. But he smiled down at their new little daughter. "At least she doesn't bare their features and we may be able to pass her as our own easy enough." He stroked the little tawny tufts atop her head with his thumb, examining her hazel eyes. The infant quieted in his arms and they settled near the hearth.

He drew his wife in with his free arm and settled his chin atop her head as he whispered a prayer of protection on their little family.

[simplepoettheia]

My Translator Chapter 2

'It's only your first week...it'll get better...just keep your head up, little dove.'

Sparing a singular glance towards the grandfather clock to her right, (Y/N) can only let out a sigh. It's barely 2 hours into her shift at the ministry.

Within those two long hours, she witnessed the previous Papa lose two scrolls that were older than the current building they are in, and she's seen the current Papa bring in two new girls both of them not yet leaving.

The soft suffering of papers can be heard as she begins to sort through a new patch of old writings.

"Excuse me" A familiar male voice speaks from above the girl, it's Copia. 

Seemingly the only normal one in her new office, he's not even in his normal outfit for the day.

Sporting a pair of red slacks with black suspenders with a black button-up, his messy cardinal paints cover his face.

"What can I do for you Copia?" (Y/N) replies to the man as their eyes meet, a small smile forming on her lips.

Copia pulls a small stack of papers from behind his back, they look even older than the ones on her desk.

"Sister discovered these this morning in her room, she believes you may know what book they belong to" his voice seems nervous around her.

Taking the papers from the man, she begins to scan them with her eyes before looking up at the man.

"Well?" His voice begins before another voice chimes in, as (Y/N) takes a deep breath. 

"I know what these belong to, the book of prophecy. You know the one all of your church members read from during mass?" She begins while moving past Copia and her desk, weaving her nimble body through the various other desks and stacking off books.

"That book isn't missing any pages, as far as I'm aware" Copia begins while following after the woman, barely able to keep up with her as she seemingly dances around the thousands of books.

"Where is it" She mutters to herself, ignoring the chattering cardinal behind her.

Weaving through another stack of books, (Y/N) lets out a loud sigh, her head finally popping up from the books.

"Where is Terzo? He had the books last," she asked the cardinal, said the man proceeding to shrug at her question.

"His room? His Office? I don't know (Y/ N)." Copia begins as a sigh escapes her mouth.

"You go check his room? I can go check his office" She kindly asks him while watching Copia stare at her as if she told him to go to hell.

The cardinal blinked for a few seconds before nodding and leaving to go check the current Papa's room.

Bracing herself for the worse and taking a deep breath, (Y/N) begins the short walk through the main office to Terzo's office.

Muffled noises could be heard from behind the door, hesitating for only a moment before knocking softly at the old oak door.

"Terzo, are you here?" as the words leave her lips, curses could be heard from behind the door from a pair of feminine voices as the man of the hours' voice chimes in.

"Come in, Cara!" His voice had wavered for a slight second as (Y/N) braced herself mentally for what she would see when she opened the door.

The door opened with a creak as she stepped inside, Terzo was fixing his belt with his off-white button-up laying discarded on his desk chair. 

Two of the nuns of the church scurried out of the room behind her, she spared them a chasted glance as Terzo walks up to her.

"What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you so early this morning?" His voice is soft as silk, if she hadn't been working under him she may have thought his tone and voice were hot.

"I'm looking for your mass book, We found the missing pages and I need to make sure these are the correct pages" (Y/N) explains as she moves away from the man, tossing his shirt to him as she begins to look through the dozens of bookshelves that settle up the wall behind his desk.

Climbing up the ladder leading to the main scriptures, scanning through the books as two catch her eye. 

The book she's been looking for, and another the title is completely in Latin compared to the others around it which are in a mix of English, Latin, and Italian.

"Terzo?" She calls down to him while pulling the book out.

Said man walks over to the ladder she is standing on, looking up at her with one brown raised as if to silently ask what she needs.

"Catch" is all she says as she drops the book to him along with the book she originally come for, they fall quickly as Terzo catches them in his gloved hands, glancing through them.

"A prophecy book and A book about Ghouls...Odd choices in liturature but who am I to judge" He says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice while skimming through the book on Ghouls.

(Y/N) makes her way down to the floor, adjusting her outfit once more before taking the books from the man.

"Thank you and The reason I grabbed the book about Ghouls was that it caught my eye, you won't mind if I borrow this to translate, correct?"

She doesn't leave time for him to reply, moving past him and quickly out the door. Terzo is hot on her heels wanting more answers and possibly just to see how this will go down.

Arriving back at her desk, gently placing the old books down she begins placing the missing pages into place along with copying down an English version of the current prophecy book.

As she finishes her task, the ghoul book catches her eye, grabbing the book and opening it, and her eyes scan through it.

It's mostly on ghouls' heat, how to summon them, and generally anything to do with keeping a ghoul alive. 

But the last few chapters focus on how Ghouls find love, or how they find their mates to be exact, Terzo whos' been looming over her shoulder looking at the pages with her.

"None of the ghouls here have ever spoken to me or the past papa's about mating." He begins while reading over the page again, as the pair both begin to speak lowly to each other about what that may mean.

Two heavy sets of footfalls could be heard coming towards the main office, it sounds almost as if both of them are running towards the office.

As if on cue two of Terzo's ghouls slam open the door, a tall thin one and a much shorter one.

"Ah, Moutain, Rain! What is the matter?" Terzo asks them while looking them over, both the ghouls are out of breath and panting harshly as Rain takes a deep breath.

"It's Omega" that's all that has to leave Rain's mouth as Terzo takes off running towards the ghoul den, Rain quickly moving to follow him.

(Y/N) stares at the two men that just left as Mountain walk up to her.

"You need to come too" His voice is deep but soft "I'll show you the way" he continues while leading her down to the ghouls' den.

With a sparing glance at the clock, a sigh escapes her lips.

"This is going to be a long day" She mutters quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for all the love and support! If you wish to be tagged in the next part just let me know! 

Taglist! 

@alastorhazbin

[nihils-trolls]

Comforts of Hive

Quilis Kelter | "Kelter Castle" | Present Night

Quilis awakes with a deep inhale, jolting to sit upright. Her eyes dart back and forth, analyzing her surroundings- realizing she's in her room on the floor. A faintly glowing magic circle and some broken nubs of chalk sit in the center of the space. Some of the tension she held relaxes as she moves to stand up, then immediately tenses again upon the sharp pain in her ankle.

… What the hell happened to that? She doesn't remember how she got to this part of the hive, nor the events of last morning either. At least, it takes a moment for her to remember. Sighing, she walks over to her bed with a slight limp.

It's actually been a few nights now, since the door was opened. She still isn't quite sure what exactly was behind it, but it seems keen on trying to make her suffer. For some reason. Every door that used to lead outside led to another room. The hive had begun creaking and groaning. A wail heard just above you, shadowy figures lurking around the corners and in your reflections. The very estate had become hostile, like something out of a horror movie. None of that really bothered her much though. 

Wriggler stuff, she thought- most of it was merely illusions. A room full of spiders. Bats that swept downwards and 'clawed' at you. Walls oozing black ichor, bones in cupboards and closets. There was a constant gnawing feeling in her head, but that was the worst of it.

Since it wasn't able to scare her, it must have felt the urge to hurt her, she guesses. Last night, it had her wandering through a hallway that just kept going. At the end was a set of stairs going down- except that on the third step, it turned into a ramp. Quilis remembers hitting the floor below pretty hard, tripping at the end of the flight. Her ankle was sprained, or worse- broken. She hoped for the former.

A loud thud from the next door room interrupts their thoughts, but not for very long. One sort of gets used to these things after a constant barrage of them.

Whatever's been haunting her, it's ramped up its efforts since last early morning. Must be getting through her own mental fortitude, too, given she barely remembers what happened. But… she does remember she was supposed to work last night. Tonight as well, but something tells her she won't make it. Not unless she finds a way out of this mess.

Quil feels around through a pocket, pulling out her palmhusk to look at it. No signal, battery low. The clock even reads 00:00 AM. No change since she last checked it, unfortunately. No contact with the outside- she's not even able to tell what time it is. The windows throughout the place reveal only an endless void- breaking one does nothing but create a hazard.

… It would appear that she is on her own. Unless someone shows up randomly, that is. Sighing again, she tucks the device away.

She could attempt to seal it away again, but that would require getting up close and personal. Wandering around, hoping to run into this thing was a stupid plan. Especially given that the layout of her hive was seeming to shift.

Quilis scrubs at her face in frustration. If she could just manage to lock things into place for a while- wait a second. She could do exactly that.

Looking down at the circles of strange runes and script on the floor again, an idea pops into Quil's head.

It was a sort of anti-magic, preventing influence from supernatural effects too, just in case. The craft was shaky and a bit rough, but she'll cut herself some slack this time. Thankfully, it should last her long enough to make some preparations. Adjust the conditions a little bit, set it for a wider space, leave some openings for connections- and… weave an extra conditional barrier around it just to be safe.

Quilis stumbled over to the desk in her room, setting herself down in the chair with a huff. She rummaged through the drawers, grabbing large sheets of parchment and charcoal. Hurriedly, but precisely, she began to draw out seven intricate diagrams. She would have to space out where she placed them, but they could be anywhere. Once that was done, all it would take from her was another circle to unite them all. That should 'freeze' the altered space, and give her about six hours to track down and seal away this monster again. 

Hopefully, she wouldn't need that long.

---

"Okay, two down, five more to go…" Quil mumbled quietly to herself. She tread the hive more cautiously now, having just been chased around by an animate chair with wooden and metal teeth. Dangerous, but.. still not scary.

… Could she even call this her hive now? It surely didn't look like it anymore. The atmosphere has changed completely, the walls turning bright colors with strange patterns. She'd wander into rooms that she'd never seen before. The stone and wood floors were now either carpet or tarp. It reminded her too much of the old circus grounds.

Opening another door, she made her way into a living room of sorts. Though, it was funhouse themed with the rainbow of colors and comedically shaped furniture. Rolling her eyes, she crouched over the rug in the center of the room. The floor beneath would be a good place to put another mark.

Wait. Did that rug just squirm?

Hesitantly, she lifts up a corner of the rug- to which several earwigs crawl out from underneath. Quilis immediately drops the rug and stumbles back, holding her breath.

Earwigs. She loves all sorts of bugs, but not those ones. Why did it have to be earwigs? Writhing, flying and gross little things. They got into everything and were just unnerving. … They're just illusions, she has to remind herself. Nothing more than a trick of the mind. This thing is just trying to get to her.

She takes a few deep breaths to mentally prepare herself. Then, she swiftly lifts the carpet and tosses it aside. There weren't hundreds of the bugs there- there were thousands. A genuine swarm. They start spreading across the floor in every direction; Quilis sucks in through her teeth. Closing her eyes, she slams the paper down on the floor, crushing a few earwigs in the process. She can feel them skittering up her hand and across her arm as she does, and decides right then and there to make a break for the exit. They slam the door shut behind them, frantically brushing the remaining bugs off of them and onto the floor.

You're not supposed to feel illusions, she thinks. But those, she felt. Those looked and felt real. Was she losing it, or was this something more dangerous than she'd originally thought?

Either way, there was no other way out but through.

---

Again, Quilis suddenly jolts awake. It’s only the second time this has happened, but she sure hopes this doesn’t become anything regular. Like the last time, the events leading up to getting here are but a blur. But she doesn't remember passing out in some tiny closet.

Her ankle still hurts, and it feels like there's something all over her face. Make-up, maybe? But when would she have put that on? It doesn’t feel right. Quil wipes a hand across her cheek in an attempt to smear some of it off, to no avail. There’s not even any residue left on her hand. Grumbling, she moves to stand again- albeit still shaky. She can still feel the bruising in her arms and side from that fall.

The memories start to flow back. She’s not so great at estimating time, but it had to have been another night by now. There’s two marks left to plant, which shouldn’t be difficult. So long as things don’t get worse, anyway.

Quil moves over towards the door, wary given everything that’s happened so far. She presses an ear against the door, listening. At first, there’s nothing. But she knows better than to be impatient- and it pays off. Gradually, something begins to wind up. The sound of a fairground organ grows to a steady pace and volume, which further makes her extremely uncomfortable.

Clowns. Carnival. Of course, now it all makes sense. This thing has been digging around her brain, looking for the things that upset her the most. Well, it’s been doing a damn good job so far. At least there’s nothing else she hears on the other side. Despite the intense revulsion to go any further, she must press on.

The purpleblood hesitates to even put a hand on the door knob. However, she steels herself and opens it without any further stalling. Thankfully, there really was nothing standing on the other side- waiting. She instead is met with a long, striped, strangely lit hallway. It’s lined completely with numerous mirrors of all shapes and sizes, and begins to twist and contort the further down she looks. Lit in pinks, purples and blues, a low growl escapes Quilis. 

What had her very home turned into? What kind of sick joke was this? She’d left the clown church for a good reason- to get away from this sort of nightly bullshit.

She limps down the hall, set on refusing to look into any of the mirrors too hard. Out of the corner of her eye, several of them appeared to be distorted reflections of herself. She spotted more of the old shadowy figures ahead and behind her- but something else caught her attention. 

Her face was white, pale like a ghost’s. It stopped her dead in her tracks, stopping to look into one of the ‘normal’ mirrors. No, that wasn’t her being pale. That was paint. Grabbing at her face, Quil tries to wipe away the crescent moon and star shaped pattern ‘adorning’ her face. Though, she’d opt to use the word ‘disfiguring.’ 

But it’s no use.

It didn’t wipe away before, and it sure as hell isn’t going away now. It starts with wiping, which turns to scrubbing and then scratching to no use but drawing blood. She hated every second of knowing what was on her face, and wishes she had never stopped to look. She wanted it off.

A few long moments, and Quilis sinks down to the floor, pressing her back up against a mirror on the wall. Curling up, she tucks her knees into her chest and sets her face down into her arms- once she stops picking at the paint, that is. 

The marks- her way out of here, those had completely left her mind. The only thing she thought of now was the possibility of continuing to wake up here- trapped in this fucking maze of a circus that used to be a her hive. The fear of never being able to leave, but also of what would happen if she tried- it paralyzed her.

It was all too familiar, all too uncomfortable. So, she decides to just stay still for a while.

[sonneillonv]

@reucrion and @sonneillonv are proud to launch our Patreon! We are working on the first of our Tourist's Guide projects, which will be supplements exploring different realms in the gaming multiverse. Join to get project updates, free content, assets, and merch reviews, as well as access to a brand new serial by Sonneillon V!

Descent Into Avernus Do you enjoy Lets Plays? Would you like to explore the story behind game modules without actually having to play through them? Or maybe you don't have a consistent D&D group, but you still want a chance to experience the twists and turns of established in-universe stories. As a special bonus, even the lowest subscription tier can enjoy a serialized fic based on the popular D&D 5e Module "Descent Into Avernus", updated 2x monthly. Read a sample below!

(Refuge, Undersigil)

The deep, bass pounding of the drums shook the walls and floor. Ceiling too, if the intermittent rain of mortar was any indication. It rattled Hyx's organs, demanded his heart take on the beat, which was exactly how he liked it. The orcs in The Well were doing something really interesting with carefully pitched industrial grinding noises they made with rusted machine parts, chanting in dissonant harmony with the groaning cry of the war horn their tattooed tanarukk lead was blowing.

 The other patrons seemed to like it as much as he did, crashing their bodies together on the cracked, silt-stained dance floor and crowding around the bar, a collection of salvage lashed together with hemp cord and nails, propped against a stack of re-used barrels. The drinks were swill, clouded with sediment, but they flowed fast and free, and they were strong enough to ignore the taste most of the time. Hyx was good with the trade - no one in The Refuge would expect better - but he wasn't a noob. He was alternating. The thirst that propelled him from the crowd, weaving between bodies in the wild strobe of colored magical light, demanded water.

Fiends were immune or resistant to a lot of things that hurt mortals, but suffering for one's excesses was half the purpose of hell, so hangovers weren't on the list.

The water was warm and the dented tin mug made it taste metallic, but it was clean enough. He guzzled it and considered stepping outside for a piss, extracting himself from the bar crowd and shifting toward the entrance so he could puff his feathers and get some air on his skin. As a result, he was standing in easy view when a three-tailed celestial fox demon with long, white hair pushed past the crowd at the door. Hyx ground his teeth on a sigh and made a token effort to look for an escape route, but he wasn't fast enough.

Siblings were another form of suffering fiends were allowed, nay, encouraged to experience.

Xien strode in his direction, eyes burning white in the darkness between strobes. His expression was anger, exasperation, concern... different colors highlighted different emotions. It would have been fascinating if Hyx hadn't been busy bracing for impact.

He opened with, "It's 2am," and Hyx scoffed because he never understood why normies bothered pointing that out to people like him. If he was out partying until 2am, it was clearly because he didn't give two shits.

"I know," he shouted over the music, favoring his brother with a toothy smile. "You're just in time -  party just hit its stride!"

Exasperation took center stage. Xien knew when he was being annoying on purpose. "We have an early check-out."

"I'll sleep on the trip."

"You'll be hungover and puking on the trip," Xien shot back. "Come back to the inn and get it out of your system so I don't have to smell it all day."

Hyx grinned. "You're not going to fix it? Disrespectful. Am I not your favorite anymore?" He hooked an arm around Xien-di's neck and bonked their horns together clumsily, swaying a little. "Didi, breaking my heart. Respect your elders."

"Gege," Xien said as patiently as he could while shouting to be heard, "Don't just assume I'll restore you if you get excessively fucked up. That kind of spell takes effort, actually. Magic isn’t free."

"Of course it's not." He rolled his eyes and walked Xien over to a wall near the exit where it was a little easier to hear. "So what do you want?"

"You've had fun, you've gotten drunk, probably high. It's a good night, right?” Xien was clearly doing his best to sound reasonable. “So wrap it up, come back to the inn now, and when you start feeling like shit I'll restore you... as long as you go to bed, STAY in bed, and let ME sleep until you actually need help."

"You bargain like a fucking devil," Hyx sighed, but he couldn't help a lopsided smile.

"I bargain like I have two older brothers," Xien tossed back. "Agreed?"

He snorted and tugged one of A-Xien’s fluffy ears. "The little princess of Seven Springs Mountain doesn't get to talk. You should have grown up at Broken Stone, THEN you could bitch about siblings." But he extended his hand with an air of great affront, prepared to trade a few more hours of fun for a get-out-of-hangover-free card.

Then the floor dropped out from under them.

x-x-x

You see, once upon a time, there was a cistern.

In the beginning, there wasn't anything very remarkable about it. It was built of stone and rusting metal, a reservoir for rainwater and run-off from the streets above. It was dark and quiet and alone, except for the ever-growing collection of trash it accumulated as the water ebbed and flowed through it. A peaceful, forgotten place that caused no problems and earned no accolades. Well-behaved cisterns seldom make history.

One day, a creature came to dwell in its collected waters. Slimy and seditious, with grasping tentacles and rings of saw-like teeth, it nestled into the darkness under the streets and made its home there. It attracted no attention and bothered no one, because its focus was elsewhere - an entirely different world, far from the floating city that contained it, a true planet with mountains and seas and a molten core that spun it around its sun. In that world, the creature had enemies and it lusted for their destruction, plotting daily, weaving spells and wearing down the barriers between itself and its prize. After many years of effort, it made a tunnel that would allow it to prey on the people it hungered for and retreat back to its nest from any resistance, escaping across the worlds, across the planes, where no one would reach it. It thought itself very clever for this.

Unfortunately, monstrous behavior indicates the presence of a monster, and the presence of a monster attracts adventurers. The greatest plague in all the realms, relentlessly nosey do-gooders, incapable of minding their own business... the whole phenomenon of adventuring parties is roundly condemned by would-be tyrants everywhere. And sometimes they are versed in magic, though the creature would have considered them clumsy as children compared to itself, limited in their minds, incapable of even rudimentary telepathy and limited to communicating via disgusting sounds they made with their actual MOUTHS. They hammered at the Weave like a child hammers at a toy lute, but they hit the right notes and the creature found itself cut off from its retreat.

All its plans collapsed quickly after that.

But even as its cartilaginous mouth with its rings of serrated teeth was mounted, hung in the halls of its killers as a trophy, the tunnel remained. With no living creature to maintain it, it anchored itself to those teeth, yawning wide enough to swallow a man whole. Then it went to sleep.

Time passed.

The forgotten cistern was truly forgotten. The waterworks of the floating city changed: new cisterns were dug and old, crumbling ones closed off. All paths leading to our subject were closed, and over time the water drained away and left only the refuse.

Decades later, someone exploring the depths of the floating city broke through a crumbling wall and found a vast space full of gently-rotting trash. Then another wall was broken through, and another, as the desperate dwellers in the dark searched for the resources to prolong their miserable lives. The former cistern became a place where the poor and suffering gathered. They dug for valuables, traded them, and eventually dumped their own trash so the next seeker could rifle through it.

The large, round hole in the ceiling didn't concern any of them. No one had reason to explore it, and even if they had, the tunnel was sleeping.

Because it was hidden and secure, the cistern became a place to trade not only garbage, but also information. Soon there was a goblin spit-roasting rats for barter. Then an enterprising wight began rolling barrels of his hobby wine down on alternate days and making deals for a stiff drink.

They called it Refuse at first, painting the letters over the entrances in used whitewash. Then, after a raid on Undersigil, someone messily painted over the 's' with a mismatched 'g' and it became Refuge. Availability of food and alcohol expanded. Locals gathered to make music together in street-corner bands, attracting others. Regular vendors pooled resources to have magic lights installed. Foot traffic swelled. Refuge became a place, not just to find things, but to lose them - inhibitions, memories, responsibilities, cares. It was elysium. As long as you kept the peace, nobody cared who you were. Living refuse, drifting into the cistern and settling in to stay.

Still, the tunnel slept.

Worlds away, there was a catastrophe. 

As it happens, the creature that had once resided in the cistern died not far from a tavern called Two Black Antlers, and its jaw was now displayed there amidst the remains of a dozen other monsters as an adventuring trophy. That tavern and its surroundings were being pulled across planar boundaries. Spikes were driven deep into the earth, chains rattling from Faerun to Avernus, reeling and ratcheting an entire city down to Hell. Dragged with it, the tunnel awoke screaming in the language of time and space and magic. It twisted, tearing, shrieking as the delicate threads of sympathy began to snap. But in the moment before it shattered forever, the tunnel opened and a portal bloomed between that old, crumbling cistern and a tavern sinking into Avernus. The ancient mortar gave - floors, ceiling, and walls all shattered. Screaming patrons and debris spun through the hole between worlds as if the dead aboleth itself exhaled them into Avernus, a last predatory act.

Then the portal shattered. The connection between planes dissolved into the nothingness between, and the place where the cistern had been was deathly quiet.

Casualty reports would change continually over the next few weeks as investigators in Faerun tried to tally the number of missing from the once-resplendent city of Elturel. Eventually the figure would crest 15,000.

The 73 victims from Undersigil went unmarked. No one even knew to look for them.

Like the rain trickling down the culverts of Sigil, they had disappeared into the dark.

[forgedroyalseal]

My Reputation’s Never Been Worse

Chapter 16

Will dropped the knife and it clattered besides Thomas’ lifeless body. Without turning he said in a raised, overly casual voice, “I’d suggest that anyone who doesn’t want to end up like our friend here,” He kicks at Thomas’ body with his boot for emphasis, “take their leave. Immediately.”

The tavern cleared out in the blink of an eye. Will still hadn’t moved to face his friends, trying to stall for as long as he reasonably could. He knew that once he saw their faces, saw the pity, or possibly, the disgust, then he’d break. The adrenaline that had been running through his veins as he faced and defeated one of his largest demons was rapidly coursing down the drain, and he felt his legs weaken.

“Will?” Horace gently dropped his hand on his shoulder.

“I need to sit down.” He hadn’t meant to say the words, but the moment he did, his knees gave way, as if an invisible puppeteer had clipped his strings all at once. Horace grabbed hold of Will, preventing him from collapsing onto the floor, and lowered him to sit on the steps besides them.

“Deep breaths Will. Put your head between your knees.”

Will nodded and did as instructed, mirroring Horace’s breathing. It took several minutes, but eventually Will’s hands stopped shaking and his breathing leveled out. He lifted his head and saw Horace crouching in front of him, worry etched into his features.

“I’m ok.” Will reassured him, and he surprised himself by the truth in the statement.

“Good.” Horace leans in closer and lowers his voice. “I know that you probably don’t want to talk to us right now, and I respect that. Why don’t we all just focus on why we are here for now. But once we get home, we are going to have a long talk. Deal?”

Will sighed, “Deal.”

Horace rolled back on his heels and smiled. “Alright then.” He extended his hand out and Will used it to pull himself upright.

“What’s next Will?” Horace asked, but looked at Gilan, Cassandra, and Alyss as he said it, a clear shift in the air. Thankfully, the friends knew each other well enough to understand that they were putting what had just been said on hold for the time being.

“We should check upstairs. The knights might still be here, but even if they aren’t, those rooms won’t be empty, and I can’t stomach the idea of walking away from them again.

___________________________

Will was right, the rooms weren’t empty. The knights the king had sent out were in several of them, drugs and women being used in all the rooms. Will had to block Horace and Gilan from going ballistic on the knights, but he had forgotten that Cassandra had just as much respect and trust in the knighthood as they did and she had gotten in multiple shots with he sling before he confiscated it.

“They can’t pay for their crimes to the crown if they are already dead. Duncan will make an example of them, a warning to the other knights that this behavior will not be tolerated.”

Alyss was much more focused on the women in the rooms, some much too young to be in such company. She gently lead them downstairs, and made sure that they knew that justice would be delivered, that crimes committed against them would no longer be ignored. Will found her leaning against the empty bar, having left Horace, Gilan, and Cassandra to arrest the knights. After all, he had no legal authority anymore.

“How did you do it?” She asked. “How did you live like this?”

Will thought for a moment. “I didn’t. I mean, I survived, but I wasn’t really alive by the time I was here. My soul was already dead, I was just waiting for my body to catch up.”

“I don’t know about that Will. I mean, you wrote to Cassandra. You asked for help. You saw suffering and did something to stop it.”

“After allowing it for a year.” The guilt he carried was obvious and he made no attempt to hide it.

“After enduring it.” Alyss stressed. “You were just as much of a victim of Eisel as those women.”

Will shut his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t call me a victim Alyss. I may have been a prisoner, but I was in a prison of my own making.” He opened his eyes, and Alyss was taken aback by the tears that had begun to form. “Do you know what Baron Arald told me? He said that I could have just gone to Redmont. That the people there wouldn’t have chased me out. That he would have protected me. I’m starting to realize that I have been blaming everyone else in the world for the pain of the past five years, when I really should be blaming myself. I acted emotionally and recklessly. And I had to suffer the consequences.”

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Cassandra’s fiery words cut through the room, and Will and Alyss watch her approach them.

“It’s true Cass. Like it or not, I have no one to blame but myself. I need to take some accountability.”

“You know what you are responsible for? Being human. Being afraid and angry and hurt. You did what you thought was right. You made a plan, a smart one, and people outside of your control ruined it for you. They broke the law. They hurt you. They are responsible for your pain and suffering.”

“And you’re forgetting that I’ve still been living and working in Redmont since you left.” Alyss added. “And yes, the majority of people there still care for you. They still love you. But it’s not some kind of Eden. There were still people who had their doubts. Who felt betrayed. I know that Arald sees the best in his people, and I love him for that, but I think it also blinded him a bit. Not everyone would have welcomed you with open arms. There would be no guarantee of safety.”

Cassandra grinned at Alyss and nodded. “Exactly. You are not responsible for the reactions of others. You were hurt over and over again. That’s not on you, it’s on them. And if we need to remind you of that everyday until we are all old and gray, than we are more than happy to do so.”

Will’s eyes bounced between the two women. Narrowing them he said, “Did you two rehearse that?”

Cassandra smirked and Alyss shrugged. “We know you Will. It was only a matter of time until you tried to blame yourself for everything. We were simply prepared.”

“You should be proud actually.” Cassandra bumped his shoulder. “After all, you’re the one who always used to go on and on about how important preparedness is. We were just applying your advice.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you two teaming up.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you.” Alyss and Cassandra said in unison.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 5: Night

WIP: Darkspace Portent series Pairing: Thrive x Warren Timeline: Honestly? No idea. CW: none? Rating: T Words: 1,136

***

Warren sat down on the edge of the cliff next to Thrive, resting his feet on top of the stairs carved into the rock face leading down to the beach. The chilled Tournaltis breeze ruffled through their hair, and Warren hugged himself to ward off the initial intensity of the nightly temperature drop.

"How is it that we almost always find ourselves alone during Skywaste concerts?"

Thrive looked at him, amused. "I've often wondered the same thing. There may be something subliminally aphrodisiacal about their music."

"Oh, shit, comin' in hot with the big, sexy words." Warren sighed, his breath escaping in a fog that carried itself away into the deep ink of the sky. "You doing okay?"

"I am." Thrive turned his attention back to the desert lights surfing against the wind over the shore, their glowing reflections causing glitter on the choppy ocean. Skywaste's music from the stage farther inland behind him and Warren echoed across the void, braided with the sounds of their enthusiastic audience. "I'm enjoying myself, but I needed space."

"I get it. Am I intruding?"

Thrive smiled warmly at him. "Never, th'saiya. I do worry that you're anxious about being so close to the edge of the cliff, however."

Warren shook his head. "It's terrifying, but…honestly, I never feel safer than when I'm with you."

Thrive watched him for a few seconds, then reached over to push some of Warren's hair away from his forehead, finishing the gesture with a sweep of his knuckle across his cheekbone.

Warren slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Not a single moment of your life."

"Yeah?" Warren tipped his head back. "That's cool. Why start now?"

Thrive's smile turned mischievous.

"I will say, though," Warren continued, "that they just started playing our song. And I think I'm feeling some type of way about it."

"Does this feeling call for an abrupt departure from the festivities? I seem to recall that being the course of events the first time we heard this song."

Warren shifted so he sat closer to Thrive and delighted in the body heat radiating off of him. "I'd settle for an abridged version."

"Would you?"

"I think if I put in a lot of effort, I can suffer just once the indignity of having to make out with you, you son of a bitch."

"Romantic." Thrive leaned into him, and the contentment in his face could've lit the entire beach with its brilliance. "If you don't mind, however…I'd like to keep things light. While I'm delighted to spend time with you, I also don't want to step away from this. The air is fresh and there's something very pensive about the Sky tonight."

"Hey." Warren grinned at him. "Hearing that you're feeling good is like a fucking drug, man. I'd love to just sit out here with you."

Thrive grasped Warren's hand and pulled it toward himself, interlocking their fingers together as he cast his gaze out to the ocean, where three moons peeked out from the hidden horizon.

"…How light is 'light,' though?"

"There it is," Thrive muttered.

Warren laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm just messing, we don't have to do anything, I swear."

To his pleasant surprise, Thrive moved even closer and tilted his face up with a knuckle under the chin. "I am insanely, tragically in love with you."

"Mm." Butterflies thrashed about in Warren's stomach, as they almost always did in moments like this with no one but Thrive. "Write your own material."

"Why would I do that when your words were succinct and very relatable?"

Thrive finally closed the distance between them, sinking the tips of his fingers into the back of Warren's neck to draw him as close as he physically could. Warren contented in sitting halfway across Thrive's lap for the duration of several songs, blissfully engaged in syncing their minds and running his hands over his chest and shoulders. He coiled his arms around him, so engrossed in Thrive's lips and the warm home of their connection that he would, on occasion, forget they were technically in complete view of everyone for no other hazard than possibly carrying on exactly like that until the sun rose.

By the time either of them had the wherewithal to surface for breathable air, the concert was still in full swing. As Warren crested his amorous fog, he seemed to just then realize with a start that he and Thrive were, in fact, two separate entities.

"Whoa," Warren exhaled.

"Whoa indeed," Thrive murmured, and he regarded Warren with so much affection it almost physically hurt.

After humming and pressing a prolonged kiss to the corner of Thrive's mouth, Warren drooped into his arms. Breathed on his throat, brushed his lips over his pulse point.

"I appreciate your restraint," Thrive said sincerely.

"It's the hardest thing I think I've ever done…pretty literally, as you'll notice." Warren winced. "Sometimes I think I wanna, like…crawl under your skin and live with a Thrive suit on for a while."

Thrive was silent for a beat. "What?"

Warren, overcome with sudden giggles, pulled back to inspect Thrive's bewildered face. "I don't know. I'm a little punchy—that was really fucking weird. I never said that."

"Perhaps bed is a good idea after all for the purpose of sleep."

"Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe I'm allergic to your happiness. God." Warren combed his hand through Thrive's hair. "You're so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?"

"As flattered as I am, this body is not mine."

"So you keep telling me." Warren cocked his head. "Here's the kicker, though—your natural form is just as beautiful. At least…it is to me."

A rapid flash of melancholy appeared on Thrive's face before he masked it with another albeit genuine smile. "Perhaps I'm the lucky one."

"It's definitely me, but I'm not here to argue the point. You're right about one thing, and that's the fact that I need to sleep off whatever alien high I'm on right now. If you wanna stay here, that's great."

"Would you mind if I rested with you?"

Warren recoiled in offense and rattled off a response in a tone that sounded as if he were reading blandly from a script. "No, Thrive. You're not welcome anywhere near me. Ew no, stinky boy."

Thrive laughed, rolling his eyes. "Sarcasm unneeded, but I see my error."

"Sarcasm unneeded, says you. C'mon. Can't get up to sleepy morning shenanigans if we don't go to sleep first."

Thrive watched him stand and move toward the capital house, and Warren basked in the ethereal glow of his smile. "A fair point."

They retired for the night with their arms around each other and the muffled soundtrack of the concert permeating the walls of Warren's room.

[hrefna-the-raven]

An unlikely bond

Masterlist

Part 2 -> The garden

Words: 752

Warnings: fluff, sweetness

Summary: You were intrigued by the entity Portal Six Three, so you remained on Delphi Ardu IV to learn more about him.

Notes: I couldn't stand Portal's sadness in the game, he deserves some comfort :) so this is somewhat settled after the episode "The last outpost" and before the events of the game

In the vast expanse of the galaxy, where stars shimmered like diamonds against the backdrop of darkness, you found yourself on a mission unlike any other after the incident with the Ferengi. Intrigued by the opportunity to exchange knowledge with the last living being of the long gone Tkon empire, Portal Six-Three, and with a sense of adventure pulsating through your veins, you volunteered to remain on Delphi Ardu IV for some time, eager to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden within Portal's ancient mind. Little did you know that the journey you were about to embark upon would be far more captivating than anything you would have seen on your previous missions.

The first few months on the barren planet passed in a blur, as you immersed yourself in the wonders and mysteries of the Tkon civilisation and their advanced technology. Portal was unlike any being you had encountered before. His wisdom surpassed the limits of time, his wit sparkled like distant nebulae, and his mischievous wit kept you on your toes. He would challenge your theories, question your beliefs and always push you to explore beyond what you thought was possible. But beneath his playful demeanour, you could feel a deep sense of admiration for your thirst for knowledge and despite his grandeur, he always treated you with utmost kindness and respect. As time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, a bond began to form between you and Portal. It was an unspoken understanding, a natural connection that transcended time and space. You found yourself not only exchanging knowledge but also forging a friendship and the guardian slowly became a trusted companion. The conversations grew to be more personal and, one evening as you were both sitting on a bench inside of the temple on this planet, he shared stories of his own life before he was chosen to become a guardian, but you could feel the sadness emanating from his words. He was the last of his kind, asleep for ages only to be awoken by your quarrel with the Ferengi which ultimately lead to him realising that his people were long gone. He now found himself stripped of his purpose, with his once meaningful duty rendered useless and there was nothing he could do about it. Unwilling to let your newly found friend suffer any longer, you shifted closer to him on the bench, your arms wrapping around his lean body, squeezing him into a tight hug while you buried your face in the soft fabric of his cloak.

"What in the name of the Empire are you doing?", he asked with a trembling voice.

"You seemed sad, I'm hugging you", you chuckled, "it is custom among my people to hug friends to make them feel better. Didn't the Tkon do anything similar?"

Portal remained silent, not even moving a single muscle while you still held him in a gentle embrace and you looked up to him, to find his eyes searching yours, a glimmer of grief flickering in his old eyes while trying to decipher your intentions.

"No, we never had such a custom", he replied shakily.

"Should I stop? I should, I-I'm so sorry", you stammered, anxiety spreading through your system as you felt a sudden sense of regret for your impulsive action.

Just as you began to move away from him, Portal's firm grip caught hold of your wrist, pulling you back towards him. His eyes met yours, and you saw something flicker within them, a spark of warmth, of understanding. Without a word, he mirrored the hug you had given him moments before.

"This....", he almost whispered, his voice filled with a hint of vulnerability, "this feels nice. Thank you."

He let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the world seemingly lifted from his shoulders. As the embrace lingered, you felt a sense of comfort wash over you both. Your heart expanded with a newfound fondness for this extraordinary individual. In that moment, Portal realized that, despite being part of what he initially believed to be barbarians, you possessed a unique ability to reach him, your presence had brought him solace, a much-needed respite from the trials of his existence. He gently tapped your back in a gesture of appreciation, the silent acknowledgement of the connection forged between you. With that, he released his grip, allowing you to step back and regain your composure. The silence stretched between you, the echoes of that fleeting moment still hanging in the air.

[wardogxicarus]

"I know MECH isn't looking for another war but I have some news about Achim and what he has been cooking... Take from it what you will."

A sigh escaped Oron, leaning back on his chair.

"My choom and I managed to get in undercover and discovered that he is making robots. For now he just plans to sell them but they do have code in them for combat." He lowered his head and sighed.

"We managed to cripple his plans, but it lead to another Cyberpsychosis episode. Worst one yet." His fingers were tapping on the side of the can.

"It's getting worse."

The fish was quickly pushed aside as Gloria felt the mood shift to a far, far, more serious matter. She wasn’t thrilled with where this was going, but anything to do with Achim was hardly something to celebrate.

Just thinking about him… the pain and suffering he inflicted on her people.. it infuriated her. Even if this Achim was different from the other, he was still just as vile and disgusting. The longer she listened to Oron and thought about that madman, the further up her arms deep maroon scales crawled.

Then her former mentor mentioned the Cyberpsychosis. The thing she was worried he’d say was getting worse. The look on her face said it all. “…..Is there no way to find a treatment for it in this time period?”