#being big and hairy IS fuckin incredible

[nevesceramics]

Heya! I'm the one who bought the welcome change tile! I got the notice of sale and just had to get it, it's such a beautiful piece and encompasses so many of the feelings I have being on T (I love being big and hairy it's incredible)

He's set up in a corner of my room with a few of my old vials, I don't do injections anymore but I felt it was fitting to put them together either way! Thank you very much for the incredible art, he'll be cherished for a long time!

Ahhhh what a beautiful and perfect display setup 💚💚💚 literally nothing gives me more joy than knowing my art made for trans folks is in a happy trans home!! Thank you so much for buying this fella!

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 20: Jock

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20

Derek sighed as he walked into his bedroom for the night, feeling incredibly drained from his argument with Eli. “I just don’t get it,” he huffed, throwing himself down onto the bed in a huff. “No matter what, we just can’t seem to see eye to eye.”

Stiles frowned and ran a caring hand over his husband’s chest. “He’s a jock,” he said. “All his high speed brain can focus on it sports.”

Derek frowned deeply. “I guess,” he growled. “I just wish that I could understand him better. Like, as if we were on the same wavelength.”

Derek lied back and rested next to Stiles, having trouble sleeping due to his fight with his son. He and Eli had been fighting with one another lately, usually due to typically father-son issues, such as Eli letting his grades slip due to his intense interest in sports, which tended to lead to Derek threatening to pull Eli from whatever team he was on that month. His son was a total jock, something that Derek didn’t really experience while in school.

As Derek drifted off to sleep, he felt his limbs tingle, his mind constantly wishing that he could understand the jock better…

The alarm blared, and Stiles sleepily slapped it silent.

Derek stretched his muscled arms above his head, yawning loudly as he woke up. As he moved, his face scrunched up as the stench of musk and sweat hit his nose, emanating in waves from his hairy pits.

Even Stiles could smell it with his dulled human senses, jerking back and plugging up his nose. “Damn Der,” he gasped, “no offense, but you reek.”

Derek felt his face grow warmer as he blushed. “Yeah, Bro,” he heard himself balk in his deep voice, “I must’ve worked up a big sweat last night.” Derek was puzzled over how deep and slow his voice sounded, and the way he’d called this husband “Bro”.

For a brief moment, Stiles scrunched up his brow in confusion, but it smoothed out rapidly as a small grin formed on his face. “Typical jock,” he lightheartedly laughed, slowly getting out of the bed to get ready for work.

Jock? Derek puzzled over what Stiles had said as he got out of bed, his body automatically lumbering towards the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and paused as he was greeted with an array of jockstraps— his boxers nowhere to be seen.

As if his body had a mind of its own, Derek felt his muscled arms move and snatch up a jockstrap. He yanked the small garment on, the pouch filled to the limit with his massive cock and balls while his perky ass bubbled out the back.

“Don’t you want to take a shower?” Stiles asked, the tone in his voice indication that he’d hoped that Derek would listen to him. 

“Nope,” Derek heard himself scoff, answering without any thought of his own. He even leaned down and sniffed at one of his stinky pits, the musky stench filling the confines of the bedroom. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m gonna get all sweaty at practice anyways. So what’s the point?”

Practice?

Derek was so caught up in his odd behavior that he’d barely noticed when he’d opened up another dresser drawer, grabbing a football jersey. He yanked the tight garnet on, noting how his muscles pressed against it, illustrating his athletic prowess. Next, he grabbed some small workout shorts that only came up to mid-thigh and were so tight that his butt and package pressed noticeably against it, almost as if they were on full display.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Derek inwardly winced at the dim smile on his face. He still looked the same, with his mature and masculine beard that had flecks of gray in it; however, he felt ridiculous being dressed up like a total jock, feeling childish.

His body evidently wouldn’t let any of his inner turmoil show as he lifted up a buff arm, flexing a large bicep. “Damn,” he heard himself say, “I’m getting fuckin’ huge, Bro!”

Despite himself, as Derek flexed in the mirror, he felt his cock start to stiffen within the confines of his tight jockstrap. The pouch tented outwards as it struggled to maintain his meaty cock, looking as if the werewolf was smuggling a summer sausage in his pants. Instead of blushing or trying to conceal his package, Derek felt himself place this hands on his hips and shove his crotch forward expectantly.

“Hey, Bro,” he said, “I’m so fuckin’ horny. Wanna help me out?”

Stiles smiled at his husband, chuckling as he shifted off the bed. “Damn, Der,” he laughed, “that thing’s always cocked and loaded.”

Always cocked and loaded? Derek’s eyebrows rose as new memories filtered into his foggy head, being filled to the brim with Derek being hard and rutting against whatever crossed his path. The stud was always incredibly horny, his cock seemingly rocketing straight to attention after a few moments after cumming. He wanted to blush at the image of himself sauntering down the street in his tight jerseys, his hard cock pressed tightly against his thick thigh for all to see.

Derek’s frantic thoughts slowed down significantly as his husband dropped to his knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking in his full member.

“Oooh!” Derek loudly bellowed, his deeper sounding voice bouncing off the thin walls in the house. “Yeah, suck that cock, Bro. Bet it’s the biggest ya ever had!” The normally silent werewolf couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he was sucked off, moaning loudly and cockily bragging about his cock. No matter how humiliated the alpha was over his uncontrollable behavior, he couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of pleasure that washed over him. All of his panic was momentarily forgotten until all of his ample muscles tensed up. “Uunghh!”

Derek cried out as he came, shooting what felt like the biggest load of his life. He was left spent and trying to catch his breath as Stiles stood up and went about getting ready for his day at work.

“Thanks, Bro,” Derek heard himself say. “I gotcha next time!” Already, at the mere suggestion of sucking off his husband, Derek’s cock plumped up and it took him a few moments to realize that he’d been absentmindedly fondling his hard bulge after tucking it back into his jockstrap.

As the werewolf continued with his morning routine that didn’t involve a shower, he couldn’t help but wince whenever he lifted his arms and his musky stench would waft out from his pits, smelling as if he’d just finished a killer workout at a crowded gym.

Derek walked downstairs and paused at the front door where Stiles gave him a quick kiss. “Can’t forget this, Coach,” Stiles said, handing Derek a silver whistle attached to a small chain necklace.

Derek was confused over both the whistle and why Stiles had called him “Coach” for some reason. However, the confusion quickly vanished when Derek realized that he no longer worked at his auto shop but was instead a coach at Beacon Hills High School. His stomach dropped when he tried to recall the massive amounts of paperwork that were supposed to be waiting for him on his desk at the shop, all of them detailing receipts and parts on orders; yet, now the werewolf’s muddled brain struggled to comprehend what all of those numbers meant. He paled even further when his knowledge of business management wasn’t the only thing gone. In a panic, Derek’s eyes darted around the house and sure enough, simple items seemed to be way beyond his mental grasp. For example, although he’d used it hundreds of times before whatever the hell happened to him, Derek stared at the coffee maker that was in the kitchen, unsure what all of the buttons meant… luckily Stiles was there to help him out since he was such a dumb jock.

Derek inwardly flinched at that last thought, recalling the stupid wish he’d made last night. He’d wished that he could understand jocks more.

Now Derek was a dumb, horny jock.

His days were filled with nothing except working out, playing sports, and fucking. That’s all a dumb jock like him was good for.

Still, Derek put the whistle around his neck and puffed out his large pecs against his tight spots jersey. “Thanks, bro,” he dimly smiled before leaning forward to rut his hard cock against Stiles’s thigh. “You gonna come during my lunch break to help me out with this?”

“Of course,” Stiles said, resting an admiring hand on Derek’s bicep, which the werewolf flexed out of instinct, “I can’t have my big jock going too long without any release. Poor guy would be all pent up.” He mock frowned, a hint of playful condescension audible.

Derek’s foggy mind didn’t pick up on it, and instead he just smiled back widely. “Yeah, Bro,” he agreed in his deep voice, “if I don’t cum at least five times a day, I can’t think well.” He paused at the odd words leaving his mouth, but then the alarm on his phone went off and he perked up. “Oh shit. I’m gonna be late! Love ya, Bro!” He kissed Stiles on the cheek before hurrying out of the house and lumbering towards his Camaro, his hard cock tenting out his tight shorts.

[shukakumoodboard]

anon i hope you are able to find this because you asked my original blog and i’m trying to stealthily migrate so my irls can't find me dkgjhfkjl

answers below the cut <3

would you like some fandomy thoughts?

1. list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s) [which ofc im answering for gaalee]

the discord i'm in for it is the highlight of my day and forms approximately 65% of my social life! who knew you could hyperfixate on some gay ninjas and as a result, end up visiting people irl and getting christmas cards and making incredible friends all over the world? pretty sure i have standing invites to homes in at least 3 different countries rn. incredible

fic quality is fuckin'. superior. and i'm not saying that because i write, i'm saying that as a reader. it's a smallish fandom and yet there's folks who can write full-length novels like @sagemoderocklee and @the-moss-project, people who can write every possible trope and au greyson's georg @ghoste-catte and @urieskooki and so many others i couldn't list them all. it's beyond obvious that the authors who write the gaalees are SO passionate about them. writers i lov you evryday

seguing from that into art!?!? pleas i have a dragon hoard of fanart only for my fics and there's over 100 pieces. A HUNDRED ARE TIOYU GIKISDINDIGME. giving u all a kissy rn. also the way i can get on discord and get immediately smacked in the face with bespoke paneenis liike every day help. gheelpp don't look at me. i will save my money and commission every one of u if its the last htign i do

2. a headcanon you weren’t sure about at first but have come to like!

oho! ready for this one? i was initially not super on board with hairy!lee. what was i on actually. me, a Wrong, and now i will purposefully include it in every fic as a sign of penance for my sins

3. answered!

4. say something nice about a ship you don’t ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual’s OTP, etc)

those who know me know that i strictly see leesaku as a brOTP, like those dudes are buddies to me. but that being said, i think leesaku as a romantic pairing is far healthier for sakura than her canon partner. lee is capable of so much love and forgiveness and they do parallel each other so much as the like... "underdog"/non-gifted member of their respective teams. she deserves love and support and understanding and lee would be genuinely ideal for it.

5. something you see in fics a lot and love

sunans (and team gai) being multilingual. oml one of my fave headcanons. you cannot tell me these different countries with different isolated villages are all casually speaking the same language when in big chunks of nart they didn't even like. get along properly. i loooove the concept of a shinobi common tongue and regional languages. further on that same thing, given team gai is pretty chinese-coded, i think it makes sense that they'd also be speaking another langauge, whether taught by gai or just because of their own independent histories or whatever. @sagemoderocklee has some truly stunning worldbuilding and it where i got my love for this hc from <3

6. something you see in art a lot and love

h-h-h-hHEIGHT DIFFERENCEEEEEEE

ok joking aside i refuse to believe gaara made it past like 5'3" that man did not sleep for his whole adolescence. conversely lee was probably on the Optimum Macros and that healthy eating would 100% contribute to maximum height gains etc. that man deserves to be 6 feet tall, that's my opinion and im right

thank you so much for the opportunity to gush about my blorbos <3

[ohgodsalazarwhy]

Break

Something smaller I wrote for the event but didn’t think it was long enough to post.  But hell, I still kind of like it.

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

The crack of the whip muffled his cry of pain.  Lambert yanked against the thick leather cuffs that bound his hands together above his head.  He could rip them apart but he didn’t.  He wanted this... he did... he loved the pain.  So why was he feeling sick?

Eskel was a pro with the whip, as he was with just about any other weapon.  He knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt without causing any real damage.  He knew how to hit with just the tip of the whip, how to drag it across Lambert’s back and ass to leave bright red welts without breaking the skin and drawing blood.

He was a master.  He was doing everything right.

So why was a chill spreading through his entire body?  Lambert’s breath was sharp, for some reason he couldn’t get enough oxygen and his vision was tunneling.  The warm, gentle, hand on the back of his neck was a sudden shock that made him buck.

“Lambert?”

Eskel had been talking... Lambert hadn’t heard him past the roaring in his ears.  This was no way for a Witcher to behave.  It was humiliating.  He cleared his throat and managed a grunt in response.  He was fine he was fine he was fine.

Eskel’s hand disappeared and that was worse.  Lambert thrashed, trying to look over his shoulder to see what Eskel was doing.  He caught Eskel curling up the whip and setting it aside.  “What the fuck!” Lambert snarled, though his voice was thick.  “Don’t stop!”

“Hush, Lambert,” Eskel ordered.  He came back to the bed and leaned over Lambert, unlatching the cuffs and tossing them aside.  His hands rubbed over his sore wrists then gently drew Lambert into his lap.  

He was trembling.  Why was he trembling? Why was he feeling so cold and so sick and... Eskel cupped the back of his neck and drew him in against his throat.  Lambert broke down, crying silently against Eskel’s skin, tears dripping from his lashes as he clung to him tightly.  Eskel was an unmoving presence, he was calm and gentle as he stroked up and down Lambert’s back, just holding him close until he stilled.

“Talk to me,” Eskel whispered once Lambert had finally stilled.

“I don’t... fuckin’ know...” he mumbled.  What was he supposed to say?  It wasn’t anything Eskel had done.

“Okay.”  Bastard just accepted it so easily.  Eskel kissed his temple and it settled that shaky thing inside him.  

“Sorry... ruined the mood.”

“Nah,” he hummed, “you didn’t.  I love you, Lambert.  You okay to lay out? I want to put some salve on your welts.”

“They’ll be gone before morning,” Lambert said, as a way to avoid acknowledging Eskel’s love.  He’d been saying it for years, and Lambert still didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“I know, I want to do it anyway.”

He let out a long sigh as if he was being incredibly put upon but pulled away from Eskel’s arms to lay on his belly.  This was such bullshit, he’d been chomping at the bit earlier, hard before Eskel had even gotten the whip out.  Now his cock was soft and useless, and Lambert couldn’t even bring himself to do anything about it.  

Eskel came back before he could sink too far into his own head, calloused fingers brushing cooling salve over each aching welt.  It helped numb the pain, and Eskel’s fingers relaxed Lambert until he was drooling into the pillow, half asleep.  He felt a soft kiss against the back of his neck, heard the tin being closed, and then Eskel’s hot, naked body was stretched out against him, one big arm thrown over him.

“I could-”

“Hush,” Eskel sighed against his temple.  “Get some sleep.”

Lambert shifted to bury his face against Eskel’s hairy chest, taking a deep breath.  Eskel made him feel safe enough to break... he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[cumbunnywitch]

Body Positivity isn't just a mindset for other people, but a journey of self-acceptance too. Like, yes, obviously, bullying or harassing or whatever someone because they're fat or hairy or they don't meet some arbitrary definition of attractiveness is a really shitty thing to do.

But, it's also about learning to accept yourself for how you look. A lot of body-pos stuff really is taking a good long look at yourself and understanding if maybe some of the feelings you have towards the people you used to look down on were, in fact, internalized things. And I'll be honest, I needed to do this myself. I was not always the relatively nice but mouthy woman you know me as.

I don't talk about this a lot but I used to be really dang skinny. Like, very underweight. When I was 19, I weight 115 pounds at 5'6, and almost none of that was fat(I was a jock(and a boy, at the time)), and so I had a lot of exercise, and none of the massive amounts of food I ate went anywhere near my waistline or butt.

A few years later, I would weigh 150, sedentary from a job mostly sitting around answering calls all day, no gym membership to speak of. I gained weight really quick, actually. And then latent anorexia hit. I started getting worried, after a few months of this. I wasn't really sure why, but it turns out a lot of that was also dysmorphia and dysphoria kicking in from the Gender Questions I was asking myself and also trying to hide. A few years after transitioning though, I hit 187, and that feeling of being too fat was a gnawing anxiety. (un)Fortunately, my self-soothing for anxiety was overeating, so you can see where I fell into a vicious cycle of trying to lose weight desperately and the anxious need to eat to numb-out the stress of life, dysphoria, and being an adult.

At one point, I killed my desire to eat almost entirely, and went on a crash diet. Keto, plus low calorie, plus serving size restriction. I worked out for an hour a day, feeling like I was going to pass out the entire time. It wasn't healthy. I kept that up for almost 2 months, and went from around 185 to 165. I am not incredibly large, nor am I obese, but some part of myself needed me to hit arbitrary numbers.

At some point, I finally recognized that this wasn't healthy, and I was only feeling worse. I allowed myself a burger, and visited a therapist. I don't have full-blown anorexia, but a big part of what was causing my issues were internalized and arbitrary standards that not only conflicted with the way I wanted to treat other people, but with a healthy lifestyle.

Do I still want to lose weight? Yea. Have I found a healthier mindset and, arguably more importantly, a healthier reason? Also yes. I accept my body for what it looks like. I accept that my eating habits are not "the problem" or that I need to be thin.

I have killed the part of me that wants to be thin-as-string and I'm learning to accept that the journey to losing weight isn't about numbers and goals and forcing myself into unwinnable regiments of working out until I physically cannot stand and eating just enough to wake up the next day.

I wanna wear a dress I bought when I first started transitioning. I was already getting bigger, and it very nearly fits. When I suck in my tummy, I look fantastic in it. Thats it. That's my goal. No numbers, no waistline measurements. And I'm gonna take my fuckin' time doing it, because it's my body, and good food is worth enjoying if it takes another week or two.

I don't feel frustrated about my weight or my body anymore. I'm comfortable in my skin, and I've learned to examine my thoughts when I'm feeling gross. I'm getting better. I love myself.

I'm not trying to say anything here, either. This is just my personal journey. If you learn something from it, then great.

[thiswasinevitableid]

77. a prophecy said that we’ll save the world together but I’ll be damned if I enjoy your company while we do because you insulted my best friend the first time we met

Ot4, sfw, please!

Here you go! I'm very pleased with this one

The drive hasn’t changed. The road into Kepler goes under the same covered bridges and winds up the same hills it always has. Even the views from driveway to the October House are the same one’s he watched through back windows with rising delight. He’d hoped to get here when the fall colors were still crisp and bright, but they droop from the branches like mourners from the weight of the grey rain.

No one batted an eye when he said he was moving North on Joe’s invitation; Joseph Stern inherited the ancestral home in Vermont, with its sprawling grounds and stately decay. It would make sense that he’d ask the friend who spent so many summers with him there to take up the role of groundskeeper.

Duck pulls his truck into the carport next to a languishing Chrysler Imperial. He runs his finger over the black curves, raindrops plinking on the tin roof as he wonders whether he could coax Joe into taking him for a ride.

He leaves his bags in the car for now. Letting his friend know he’s here is the top priority.

The house is just as tall and mismatched as he remembers, turrets and wide windows mixed with sloping eaves and a sun room. It’s patchwork quilt character extends to it’s color; some walls are red, others goldenrod, and the door is bright as a ripe pumpkin.

Joe christened it the October House the first summer he and Duck visited there. Joseph’s aunt, a proud spinster, suggested his transplant parents send him to the family farm for a few months of growth. When Joe showed his characteristic skepticism about spending his summer alone in Vermont, she offered to let him bring a friend. He chose Duck every year.

The October House was the last thing they spoke about the night before Duck left for basic training (and, soon after, Normandy). Joe was already slipping off the map, recruited for secret purposes by men who valued his intelligence over his humanity. He told Duck to remember the summer they were thirteen, to remember he was brave.

It wasn’t Duck Newton’s first war, but it was for damn sure his last.

He opens the door with the tarnished key Joe sent him. Anywhere else, he’d call out to find his host. But he knows where he’ll be.

One flight of creaking stairs, a left turn down the hallway of faded photos, a right into the room with the mural of Noah’s Ark on the wall, and there he is. Black hair slicked back, blue silk robe covering old scars and new, and eyes that are bluer still turning to take him in.

That’s Joe alright; immaculate even in his madness.

“You’re here.” He stands, dazzling smile reflecting the firelight.

“Told you I’d come. Can’t leave you here to get buried alive in books.” He opens his arms, unsure even as he commits to the movement. Joe hesitates, then steps across crumpled maps of stars and seas to hug him.

“I missed you.” He whispers. Duck doesn’t mention that Joe was the one to disappear once the war was over. They had one night in Huntington celebrating the boys who made it home; Joe’s smile stayed painted on the whole time, but Duck couldn’t get him alone to ask why. Then he fled north and didn’t respond to letters.

“Missed you too, Joe.” He peers over the taller man’s shoulder, takes in the mural and all the materials on the floor. Duck steps from the hug, paper crunching under his boots as he goes to trace the door of the ark, “you’re tryin to go back.”

“I want proof Sylvain was real. I, I want to see it again, to know we didn’t dream it.”

“Got a scar on belly that says we didn’t.” Duck turns, slips his hands into his pockets, “why are you really tryin to go back? They told us we couldn’t, said that if we came home the gate would shut for good.”

Joe doesn’t answer right away, runs his fingers over the badgers and bears fleeing the flood, “Do you ever wish we’d stayed?”

Duck thinks about bloody sand. Then about Jane getting married. His folks celebrating their twentieth anniversary.

“No. Christ, Joe, we were thirteen. It was fucked up to ask us to. Who the fuck asks two kids to rule a kingdom?”

A weak laugh, “and people say I’m the smart one.”

“You are.” Duck touches his shoulder, “now c’mon, smart guy, you don’t show me where my room is, I’m takin yours.”

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

“You sure this is the spot?” Barclay keeps a close eye on the gathering darkness for any bursts of sickly white.

“Yes. The maps align with the stories that they emerged near “a stone like that of a broken heart.” Indrid draws hurriedly in the dirt with his claws, his lower hands uncorking bottles as he does, “come closer, if this catalyzes before I expect, I do not want you to be left behind.”

Barclay sets a hand on his shoulder. Feels his feathers shudder as he inhales.

“It’s time. I, if this does not work, I am sorry.”

He bends, kisses Indrid between his antenna, “I trust you, little moth.”

Indrid hums as amber light fills the clearing, and then everything he knows and loves dissolves into heat and empty air.

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

It's the same static, the rush of heat like wind in a wildfire. The hairs on Duck’s arm snap to attention as Joe leaps from his chair. The door on the ark shimmers and glows with alien majesty. Then two figures fall face-first on the floor and the light is gone.

“Are you alright?” Joe bends to help the first, feathered shape but it stands in a flurry of down, the hairy figure following suit.

“Yesyes, we are fine.” The feathery one looks like a massive moth with some human features.

“Oh.” Joe grins, “I’ve never seen a Sylph like you before. This, this is incredible.”

“You know what we are?” The other asks hopefully.

“We do. We, I’m, I’m Joseph Stern, and this is Duck Newton-”

“Thank the stars.” The mothman bends one knee, his friend doing the same, “yes, we are humble emissaries of the kingdom of Sylvain. We have searched for months to find our way to you. You, who prophecy says will aid us, return and take your rightful place as kings, and save our home once more.”

“No. Nuh-uh, not a fuckin chance.” Duck steps back, spots conflict in Joe’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” The mothman stands, “you, the prophecy, my visions showed you-”

“Then they showed fuckin wrong. I just got my life into some kind of order, I’m not letting you and some giant fuckin ape-thing drag me into another mess.”

Red eyes narrow, “Do not speak of Barclay that way.”

“I’ll speak about him however I damn well please because this is my house!”

“Technically, it’s my house.” Joe sighs, “But Duck is right. We almost died saving Sylvain once before. As, as much as I miss it, I’m not sure I can go back if it means risking our lives again. I was sort of hoping for a middle ground between being stuck here and a near-death adventure.”

“Please-” Barclay steps towards Joe.

“Hey, he said no, so fuck off.” Duck growls. The Sylph growls back.

“Buddy, do you have any idea how much we risked to get here? How much energy Indrid just used to open the gate. Oh, and, by the way, without the stuff we came here for we can’t go home. We’ll be stuck here.”

“Then you shoulda had a back-up plan instead of assumin you could just say a few fancy words and get us to go back. Oughta get some brains to go with the brawn there, big fella.”

“Enough” Indrid hisses, glaring at Duck. “I do not care if you are a chosen one, nothing gives you the right to speak to him, or to me, so callously. We came to you, you who are--if I did not make it clear--our last hope, and you respond with cruelty. I ought to teach you manners, but I will restrain myself.”

“Like to see you try.” He turns to where Joe is carding a hand through his hair, expression lost, “it’s your place, so you decide how we get rid of ‘em. But I’m done here.” With that, he stomps down the stairs, already suspecting Joe will let the Sylphs stay. When it becomes clear that’s the plan, Duck heads into the garden to work and stays there until all the lights are off.

It’s just after midnight when he wakes from a dream, slicing at the air while weak cries die on his tongue. He sits up, then goes gravestone still as the door opens. Indrid’s eyes are warning lights in the dark hall.

“Are you hurt? It did not seem fair to leave your calls unanswered.”

“No. Just had a, uh, a bad dream.”

The Sylph steps through the door, turning on the small, standing lamp, “It is strange to be the only one not waking in terror for once. Well, I suppose Barclay doesn’t.”

Duck tosses off the blanket, “Fuck, is Joe-”

“He is fine now. Barclay was up looking at cookbooks when he started screaming and went to him. Your friend did not wish to wake you, but was so shaken Barclay offered to stay with him.” A little smile, “he is very comforting. Soft, too.”

“You’re sure he was just dreamin? Not sick or anythin?”

“Positive. He was yelling in some other language.” Indrid fiddles with the knick-knacks on a shelf.

Duck runs a hand across his face, “Probably German.”

Indrid cocks his head.

“He had to learn it when he was a, uh, a spy in the last war. The one here. He...he got caught, I only know that because everyone talked about how miraculous it was that he escaped. Joe never talks about it.”

“One can imagine why.” Indrid murmurs.

“Then ‘one’ can probably imagine why I don’t want either of us near a goddamn battlefield.” Duck snaps.

“Is...oh dear, you think that is what we’re asking of you? Nono, we came here for help in preventing a war, one that may destroy both our worlds.”

“You coulda led with that, y’know?”

“I suppose. I, I am, or was, the court seer. But as the evil spread across our kingdom, it disrupted my powers. Now they’re gone entirely. It’s as if I am navigating the woods with no compass and no stars.” His antenna droop. Duck turns the chair near his bed in invitation. The Sylph moves quietly across the worn boards, “The last vision I received before they disappeared was of you two helping us; I saw a new timeline of futures, bright and hopeful, unfurl before it was gone. When you said you would not help us, it was like ripping my wings from my body mid-flight. That is why I was angry. Well, that and how you spoke to Barclay.”

“Sorry about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “I just...when y’all showed up, all I could think about was bein back in the middle of a fight. Of, of seein Joe die.”

“I am sorry too. I did not know you had suffered such things.” Indrid picks at the blanket with chipped claws, “I cannot promise there would not be danger if you aid us. But I give you my word that you shall hear no more of it from me. I only wish for you to accept this quest if you wish to.”

“Thanks. That already puts you ahead of the last time.”

Indrid hums, then peers at Duck’s arm where a tattoo peeks from his shirt, “What is that?”

Duck rolls up his sleeve to reveal the pine tree, “got it because it helped me think of home.”

“Yes but how? To wear art on one’s skin, that is amazing. Do you think they could do it on mine?” He holds out his upper right arm. Duck runs a finger up it, thinking of the polished cherrywood on the table downstairs.

“Might be tricky. You need skin for it to work.”

“Blast.” Wings flutter once, “do you have more I may see?”

Duck unbuttons his shirt as Indrid scoots closer; if he’s not going to sleep tonight, at the very least he can make someone happy.

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

“Gotta say, y’all bein’ here is doin’ wonders for him.” Duck hands Barclay a glass of water as he joins him on the porch. Joseph and Indrid are sitting on a sunny path of lawn, Indrid showing the human his wings and explaining them in detail so he can make notes.

“Seems to go both ways. Indrid hasn’t been this animated since we left to find you two. He’s even more talkative.”

“Joe’s always been good at that. He can get anyone talkin, and can make almost anythin sound interestin.”

Barclay sneaks a glance at the human; he’s much friendlier these last two weeks, but his protectiveness of Joseph hasn’t waned.

“I wouldn’t say him cheering up is all on us. From what he told me, the week you got here made him feel like his cares were washing away.”

“Really?”

Barclay nods.

Duck sips his water, rubs the condensation with his thumb, “In, uh, in Sylvain, am I rememberin right that men could marry men? Ain’t always easy to tell when there’s so many kinds of beings runnin’ around.”

“Why wouldn’t that be okay? Some kinds of Sylphs, like Indrid’s, don’t even have things like men and women. I mean, when they offered you and Joseph a chance to rule as kings, the records make it sound like the two of you would have gotten married.”

Duck chokes on his water, splutters as Barclay pats his back, “I, fuck, I’d never, we’d never, I, fuck, definitely never ever didn’t think about it.”

Barclay lets the horrible excuse for a lie slide, “It’s a way bigger deal that Indrid chose me for this; being a seer makes him noble and I’m just a cook. Going off into the wild with me? Trusting me? Thought some of the ministers were gonna faint.”

“Was it just you helpin him or are you two, uh, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do. Can you blame me? Look at him” he gestures to where Indrid is spreading his wings so Joseph can study them. Stars would he like to go down there and hold the human tight while he taught him how to make Indrid purr.

“He really is somethin.” By the look on his face, Duck wants to do the same thing, just in reverse. After a moment, he murmurs, “the night before we were supposed to face the Red Devourer Joe and I were in the tent by the battlefield. Curled back to front, my arms around him and I could feel his heart beating hard as mine. Shoulda been thinkin about strategy, or prayin, or somethin’ like that, but all I could think was that I oughta kiss him, just in case we didn’t survive. But I didn’t. There were chances after that. I never took ‘em.”

“It’s not too late.”

“If you found out Indrid wanted to kiss you for years and was too chicken to, even when he thought he was gonna die, would you really let him?”

Barclay thinks of claws in his fur, of Indrid huddled against him and chirping softly when Barclay asked to kiss him.

“Of course I would.”

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

“How long until the summer?” Indrid tosses the wool scarf Duck lent him over one wing.

“Months. Y’all got here in October, which means we ain’t even into the worst of the winter yet.”

An annoyed chirr, “We need more blankets.”

“Get you more when we’re in town tomorrow, fluffball. Hah, here’s some.” Duck kneels to cut some surviving leaves from a wild yarrow. They’re out in the woods because Indrid is running low on his feather oil, which keeps him from being miserable and itchy. He described what it did and let Duck smell some (it’s a bit like aloe and vanilla) so the human could reverse engineer what earth plants might do the trick.

Duck brushes off his pants, looks around, “Huh, we made it to the Maples. Joe’s aunt said she never got much from ‘em, but I don’t think she ever really tried.”

“What is special about them?”

“It’s how you get maple syrup. It’s in these trees.” Duck smirks, remembering Indrid licking the dregs from the bottle at the house with his long, long tongue.

Crunch

He whirls to his left, finds Indrid with both rows of teeth sunk into a maple branch. He giggles, then guffaws as the Sylph pulls off with an indignant chirp.

“You, you gotta, hee, you gotta tap the trunk, n-hee” he doubles over as Indrid bites the same branch while drumming his claws on the trunk, “not quite, need some other tools.”

“Perhaps lead with that?” Indrid grumbles, wiping bark from his face.

“S-sorry just, just didn’t expect you to go to town on it like that, heee”

Indrid grins, “It was worth it to hear you laugh like this.”

God, when was the last time he laughed this hard? The thought sobers him, his joy faltering like a bird in a storm. Then he cackles as four spindly arms hoist him into the air.

“ACKhey, put me down fluffball! Ahhno thatheee, that tickles.” He laughs louder as Indrid holds him to his chest and rubs his fuzzy face against his neck.

“I thought that might do the trick” Indrid purrs, nuzzles his cheek, “no more despair, Duck Newton. Not today.”

Duck turns his face so they’re eye to eye, pine green to ruby red, “Deal.”

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

“I found everything on the list.” Joseph crumples the note paper and tosses it away as Barclay gleefully unpacks the shopping bags.

“This is so fucking great, I can’t wait for you guys to try this, and Indrid is going to lose his mind when he sees what I made. This dessert is his favorite.” He tucks the heavy cream and pears into the fridge.

“I’m excited to try it. We definitely didn’t eat any tarts when we were in Sylvain. The badgers who hid us from the red mist were, I think, pretty poor.”

“Yeah, the borderlands were bad off in those days. I was just a kid too but I remember digging out roots to try and make some kind of soup.” The Sylph turns those endearing brown eyes on him, “up for being my kitchen assistant again?”

“Always.” Joseph tucks a dishcloth into his belt. He’s very proud of himself for finding earth equivalents to all the ingredients Barclay needed to make a fall dinner from home. Having the Sylphs living with them means he goes into Kepler more often for groceries or goods to fix up the house. Everyone in town thinks his childhood friend is a good influence, getting him out of the stuffy confines of the October House.

They’re not wrong. When Joseph saw Duck in the doorway, a little world-worn but just as kind, just as practical as he always was, he decided that if the other man didn’t want to return to Sylvain, Joseph would set the project aside. He’d focus on the world he was in, because with Duck there he might yet find things to marvel at, things to discover that weren’t mired in the mundanity of human evil. They’d make the October House into a home, live out their days as bachelors.

Then Barclay had come through, auburn-furred and so gentle Joseph wanted to make like butter in the sun and melt. And Indrid, magnificent and vulnerable (and very infatuated with Duck). When Duck announced he’d help them look for clues to stopping the war, Joseph felt buried bits of his mind rising to the light of the new challenge.

After dinner, they take a pot of coffee into the living room. Indrid is delighted by records, is already putting one on as Barclay puts wood on the fire. The seer lays on the rug, head in his lovers lap and purring low.

Love me like there's no tomorrow

kiss me like it's goin' out of style

“You know, I wonder how one dances to this. It is not fast, but the rhythm is not like the formal dances at court.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Duck stands, offering Joseph his hand. Lord, he’s pictured this so many times but still has to coax his own hand to move, “Joe, you’re leadin.”

He settles his hand on Duck’s hip and holds the other, concentrates on swaying them to the beat.

Hold me like you're afraid I might get away

Love like I've been gone for quite a while

“You can come closer, Joe. I ain’t gonna bite. Not in front of company.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He presses closer, prays for Duck to rest his head on his shoulder.

Take and wrap me in the package

my future my presence and my past

And love me like there's no tomorrow

and each day might be our last

“Dearest, I am rather tired from that lovely meal you made. Shall we retire?”

“Good thinking, little moth.”

Love me like there's no tomorrow

Make each night one more remembered

we will let the heaven be our guide

“Seems they didn’t need much of a demonstration.”

“Not sure that was Indrid’s endgame.”

Just love me like there's no tomorrow

and keep me right by your side

Joseph tips his head down, whispering, “What was?”

Keep me right by your side

“Duck?”

In the crackle of silence between songs, Duck brings their lips together. Joseph forgoes their stance and pulls him against him, their hearts magnets that were finally turned the right way. Then his feet stumble on the rug, Duck pushing him back with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed.

Joseph drops into the chair, Duck pouncing before as he breathes. Joseph growls, the hunger that’s been chained threatening to crack his chest from the inside, and nips Duck’s lower lip.

“I said no bitin.”

“You said you wouldn’t bite.”

“You're right, darlin’” Duck cups his cheek as Joseph grips his thighs, “I’m gonna do so much more than bite.”

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

It never gets easier, waking from these dreams steeped in shame, fear, and sweat. Except this time someone’s arms are around him.

“I’m right here Joe, we’re here, we’re safe.”

“Very safe.” Indrid stands behind Barclay in the doorway, “another dream?’

“Yes. I, um, I-” he reaches for Barclay without meaning to, is ready to apologize when the Sylph slides into bed beside him.

“Is this okay?” It’s directed at both the humans.

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

Barclay adjusts so Joseph can hide his face in his chest. He should ask Indrid if he wants to be on the bed as well, the poor Sylph might think he’s not wanted-

“C’mon fluffball, my back is gettin cold.”

A delighted chirp and then a wing, black with a grey and red eyespot, drapes across him and Duck.

“Mmmmmm, I knew you would be lovely to hold.”

“Aim to please, sugar.”

“What happens now?” Barclay murmurs.

“My vote is we all get some sleep and work out the particulars in the mornin’.”

“Seconded” Joseph mumbles.

“We will need a good night’s rest; tomorrow I make the disguises for myself and Barclay so that we may begin our wider search.”

“Hope you guys like them.”

Joseph squeezes Barclay, smiling as Duck wiggles closer and Indrid’s wing grows heavier, “We’ll love them no matter what, big guy.”

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Eridians, Sirens, and the great Destroyer

The Eridian empire was vast, timeless, and completely insular. Their species had watched hundreds of others crawl out of backwater planets over the eons and race headfirst into extinction shortly after, so hairy little pink monkey bipeds that made irritating noises and had gross soft bodies didn’t exactly hold much interest for them. 

Their only real interactions with the system’s humans were with the Siren hosts who were drawn to Nekrotafeyo over time, women who’s energy hummed in the same melodic frequency the Eridians used to communicate, and they would have been more than happy to keep it that way.

Incredibly technologically advanced and so long lived that they would seem immortal to lesser species, they were completely unchallenged in their total dominance of the Galaxy... and still would be if they hadn’t fucked up so badly. 

Big ol’ lore post under the cut, baybeeee:

Siren Song = They just vibin, man. 

It's the constant, endless sound the great powers make. They are alone in that place of other, floating through the endless dark of eternity, so it's not a form of communication or an attempt to reach out - it just is. It just exists in the same way the Siren entities always have and always will.  Maybe they aren't even making noise and the song is just how human brains translate the information they are taking in? Who knows. Not really any of our business anyway.

It reverbs through everything linked to them, so eridium, Siren hosts, Eridian architecture and ruins? They all sing, it's just that most can't hear it.

Pandorans can over time because they live so close to the greatest reservoir of eridium that exists, and it is screaming under their feet. The problem is that once you start hearing it? Well, you can’t really go back.

All Siren hosts are drawn to Pandora not because of what their brain tells them, not cause they want riches, or to make a name for themselves, or to be a Vault Hunter, they are drawn there because it feels like home. Somewhere in the back of their minds, in a part of their brain they can’t access, the song is still singing.

Eridians = Ancient insectoid race of space farers. Cool guys. Really good at poker, terrible at charades.

Through a mix of technology and natural affinity to the great Sirens, developed premonition (future thread sight) and warp travel (colonised a huge amount of planets). Communicated through a chittering song on a frequency inaudible to humans. 

It was similar enough to the hum Siren host’s emanate that they tolerated the women’s confused pilgrimages to their home planet, drawn by the melodic lure of the eridium and the Eridians themselves.

Eridium = Crystallised Siren-Entity energy from their plane. Purple. Sings if you know how to listen to it, tastes like fried pickles.

The Eridians naturally as a species were able to tap into the great power's plane and siphon energy from it, which fueled their entire civilisation. The great Siren Entities did not give a shit about this, they don't about anything in general, it was infinitely replaceable and in no way harmful to them for the Eridians to extract. They wouldn't even notice, really. They don't exist on the same cosmic fuckin' reality anyway.

Eridium sings in resonance with the entities’ song, it's part of them in a very roundabout way, and that’s why Siren hosts can consume it to boost their Siren’s manifested powers.

Destroyer =  The great Eridian fuckup. Don’t blame it though, it would rather just go home.

When your species has developed premonition that’s almost entirely accurate bar when trying to predict Siren power touched outcomes, it’s easy to get overconfident. If everything always works out in your favor, risks feel less dangerous, and holy fuck did these giant cricket dudes take a stupid risk.

Time made them greedy, and ego made them dumb. As their civilisation spread and power needs grew exponentially, they developed machinery to siphon eridium into physical crystals instead of using their own innate abilities, and eventually decided to open a direct link into the Siren Power’s realm. An umbilical that was meant to allow a constant flow of power and increase harvesting, but instead released something terrible... 

For real though it's only a lil guy. The “Great Destroyer” is just a parasite, a bug. Another being like the Siren entities that’s native to their plane except minute in comparative size and power. It's a gnat, a tiny flicker of life that harmlessly swam through the Siren song and consumed energy, till a group of insectoid arseholes ripped it out of it's own reality and into a very shitty one. 

It's confused and pissed, so it does what anyone would do in its position.

It starts eating.

Great extinction = Eridians have fucked up so badly they decide the best plan is to just mass kill themselves out of pure cringe so they won’t have to deal with being laughed at by shitty little monkey bipeds. 

The umbilical was designed to siphon from the Siren power’s plane, never to push something back. The Eridians understandably brick themselves as a race once the problem with this becomes rapidly apparent. The Destroyer is running rampant, consuming everything in its path and growing in size exponentially. Their weapons only seem to feed it more, and it’s being attracted to what it knows - eridium and the song it hums. The energy that fills their cities and resonates through their bodies is now a death sentence.

Their planets have been decimated, and the monster’s sights are set on Nektrotafeyo next. Cue Nyriad and her huge, sexy brain.

Siren hosts have always been attracted to Eridian planets. Their bodies reverberate with the same song despite the huge differences between the two species, just like the eridium that fills their cities. It’s an involuntary lure across the dark of space for women who already feel isolated and removed from their own planets.

Nyriad had been on Nekro for some time before The Destroyer was released - enjoying a friendly if mildly frustrating relationship with beings that saw her as a shitty little monkey biped who was slightly better than all the others because she had rad tats and made a noise they like.

It was her that raised the idea to GLUT this thing into naptime by feeding it the energy it was being drawn so desperately to, and to surround it with eridium after.

...but it was the Eridians who raised that the greatest concentration of that energy was within them.

Billions sacrificed themselves to the beast’s hunger, Nyriad crumbled under the of weight of so many deaths she felt truly responsible for, and it slipped into a great slumber.

Pandora is not a cage, it's a cradle. The Destroyer sleeps surrounded by the sensation of being where it belongs, no longer lost or afraid as it dreams from within the Siren’s song.

Eridians leave = Goodbye bugs, thanks for pretty much nothing.

There were plenty left after the great sacrifice, but they left the system not long after it was completed. 

Whether it was a “Ah fuck, sorry” response or they saw something horrific coming in the future is up to debate, but they left a long, long, long time ago. 

If they had seen something terrible on the horizon, then it either ended up not happening or they left the system a HELL of a lot of time before it was due to. Then again, they couldn't see Siren touched futures, or The Destroyer would never have been accidentally fished out of the nether.

Maybe they will come back some day, but it’s likely the only contact humanity will ever have with Eridian civilisation is through the ruins of what they left behind, and the constructed guardians that defend it so viciously.

The maddening = The great psychosis that ripped across Pandora and whispered insanity into the minds of those abandoned by the corporate wars.

29 years before Borderlands 3 starts, The Leech Siren entity is freed after millennia of rotting alone in a cell. Removed from the song, torn from the others,  half in and half out of the plane it should exit in, it's lost. It’s frightened, it's desperately lonely, and in its panic to find a host ends up split into two, torn between seperated bodies it never wanted in the first place.

Its song joins the chorus, and the sound is horrific. Broken, distorted notes, sharp and flat in all the wrong places, a cacophony of screeching voices and sounds impossible for human brains to comprehend. 

It rips across Pandora's hum like a distortion, and its madness locks into the minds of all those poor, innocent people who'd been around eridium long enough that they could hear the melody without even realising yet.

Pandora goes mad, Bandits screech of the great maw, the all-seeing eye, and Leda Calypso soothes her broken twins.

Phew. 

So, nutshell?

In my Leech Lord AU, all eridium screams in confused song - half The Leech's distortion, half the rest of the entity's melody.

Sirens are drawn to Pandora, not because of whatever reason their logical mind tells them, but because it’s the only place in the Universe with such a concentration of the energy that’s part of them - part of the great powers themselves.

Each Siren host hums with their own sound, Troy and Tyreen differently, like 2 parts of the same broken voice overlapping and crackling. 

When together, they harmonise... and that's why their streams are so deadly. 

That's why they skyrocketed to the level of intergalactic fame they did.

Like, Follow, and Obey.

...it's not the Twins who are saying it.

[laurelnose]

monster! parasites!

you know how a few days ago i said we weren’t going to talk about monster parasites? that was a fucking lie.

the basis of my monster parasite thoughts are: every organism comes with its own internal ecosystem that goes with them everywhere. it’s like having built-in friends! ergo, when monsters crossed over to the witcher dimension during the Conjunction of Spheres they must have brought many new and delightful parasites with them. you know what fiend manes are full of? MITES. you know what drowners got on their skin? COPEPODS. what can we do with this information? anything we want.

i promise there are no pictures below the cut. i have tried to put warnings on all my sources but click any of the links below at your own risk. warning for internal and external parasites of animals, monsters, humans, and witchers; parasites altering the behavior of their hosts; and probably general body horror. if you read the eating-liver-flukes post that’s probably a decent baseline for how revolting you will find this post. 

also, super obvious bias towards aquatic parasites as referents. my degree is fisheries science not terrestrial ecology so that’s primarily what i’m drawing on even though nearly all of the witcher monsters are terrestrial. there is a TON i’m missing here bc of that bias! specifically i really wish i could talk about how parasites of invasive species often act as co-invaders with their hosts and monsters definitely count as invasive species and would have majorly reshaped ecological interactions on the Continent but i don’t know enough about terrestrial ecosystems to speculate properly. (ETA: while i still think monsters would have majorly reshaped ecological interactions on the Continent, I don’t actually think they’re invasive species anymore!) hopefully you enjoy it anyways!

it is, hilariously, canon that parasites are used for alchemy. according to The Last Wish, the Temple of Melitele’s grotto grows a bunch of different “rare specimens—those which made up the ingredients of a witcher’s medicines and elixirs, magical philters and a sorcerer’s decoctions” and some of those specimens are, uh, “clusters of nematodes.” nematodes being parasitic roundworms. this is really funny because it’s so fucking weird. also everything else in this description is a plant or a fungus and nematodes are definitely animals? i choose to believe the world makes sense and nematodes aren’t plants in the witcherverse. therefore parasites are alchemical ingredients, it’s canon, give me more witchers digging through monster intestines in search of worms and put a nematode colony in the basement of corvo bianco please and thank you

this actually leads right into my personal favorite drowner headcanon (hello yes i’m tumblr user Socks Laurelnose and i am always thinking about drowners)—you know those bits where drowners kind of have red blotches in their skin? those are nematodes, actually, because i said so. the reference is Clavinema mariae, a nematode that infests English sole. the worms are basically harmless but they’re dark red and you can see them through the skin. it freaks people out and makes it hard to sell sole. (IMAGE WARNING: a picture of an infected flatfish. it looks mostly normal but there’s a dark red lesion near the fin.) said lesion is probably a coiled-up Clavinema. sole have so many of these, it’s not even funny (PDF article link, IMAGE WARNING for worms visible underneath skin of flatfishes. relevant images pointing out exactly how many worms on page 5). “but the red parts of drowners could just be flushed from blood”—no. worms. 

okay that was my main specific-parasite-for-specific-monster headcanon (except also succubi probably have a unique species of lice for their hairy legs. but that’s barely even a headcanon, basically all terrestrial vertebrates have a unique species of lice.) i wanted to start with it because i think that everyone should feel free to arbitrarily assign a totally benign but conceptually gross worm to their favorite monsters. why not, yanno? also it probably sets the tone for the rest of this post. 

carrying on: “what monsters might have nematodes, besides drowners,” you may be wondering? probably all of them! all of them are full of nematodes. nematodes are fucking everywhere. allow me to share a deeply unsettling quote from nematologist Nathan Cobb: 

“In short, if all the matter in the universe except the nematodes were swept away, our world would still be dimly recognizable, and if, as disembodied spirits, we could then investigate it, we should find its mountains, hills, vales, rivers, lakes, and oceans represented by a film of nematodes. The location of towns would be decipherable since, for every massing of human beings, there would be a corresponding massing of certain nematodes. Trees would still stand in ghostly rows representing our streets and highways. The location of the various plants and animals would still be decipherable, and, had we sufficient knowledge, in many cases even their species could be determined by an examination of their erstwhile nematode parasites.”

jesus christ! thanks nathan, I hate it. nematodes are usually both benign and microscopic, but we’re talking witchers, we want some parasites we can fuckin get our hands on. sperm whale placentas are sometimes infested with nematodes up to 28 feet long but only a centimeter in diameter (Wikipedia link, no images). like an incredibly awful spaghetti! we don’t really seem to know if this bothers the sperm whales. also, i unfortunately do not know enough about the size of whale organs to tell you how big the placenta is in relation to this worm. the point is: real big monster? REAL BIG NEMATODES.

moving on from nematodes—okay, you know, since i mentioned eating deer liver flukes at the start of this post, let’s just go there. real life flukes max out at about 3 inches long, but hypothetical monster flukes could be much bigger and equally edible if desired. (if you’re wondering what a liver fluke would taste like: the flukes feed on the liver and they have very few organs of their own, so they would taste basically just like liver, just also long and flat like a fruit roll-up. if you’re going there, a witcher should not eat any flatworm live. if they’re digging them out of cockatrice livers or whatnot they should kill them before munching or save to cook later. it would probably be safe to eat one live, but you know that cliche “their tongues battled for dominance”? handling a live flatworm is like a handling very strong and energetic tongue complete with slime, okay, it wouldn’t be nice.)

parasites often need more than one host to complete the life cycle—for instance, Leucochloridium paradoxum (VIDEO WARNING: you may have seen this, it’s the one that makes snail eyes pulsating & green) has a bird stage and a snail stage, and it makes the snails look and act really weird in order to attract the birds. parasites altering host behavior to attract the next host in the life cycle is pretty well-documented; for instance, there’s an eye fluke that can make fish swim near the surface where predators can eat them (New Scientist article link, images of a microscope slide & a normal-looking fish) and a tapeworm that does the same and makes the dark silver fish turn white (JSTOR article, no images). i posit that at least some monsters are accompanied by “ill omens” of animals looking or acting strangely because they become infected with a stage of one of the monster’s parasites—usually, the mechanism is that internal parasites lay eggs that are passed in feces & transmitted that way. witchers who are up on their parasite ecology might be able to identify what monster is hanging around by observing exactly what kind of freaky-looking animals or animal behavior is going on around the area!

(if geralt is involved you may desire to have him explain this totally non-supernatural mechanism for abrupt animal appearance or behavioral changes at excruciating length to the chagrin of all present. or maybe that’s just what i desire. it would be funny okay)

potentially even more hyperspecific application of dual-stage parasites: there’s a dinoflagellate parasite that, when it infects crabs, makes the meat chalky and bitter like aspirin (Smithsonian link, images of healthy crab and microscope slide). geralt hunts down dinner, digs in, and immediately sighs and grabs jaskier’s portion away from him to the poet’s complete bafflement before going to get his swords because judging by the flavor there’s definitely a shishiga nest in this forest. 

like. parasites are one of THE most hyperspecific things in biology. the majority of them have very specific hosts and life cycles, many of them are completely unique to a species, if you think a fictional parasite is too specific to be plausible you’re probably wrong, make it even more specific. “the witcher monster lore is so hyperspecific lol” IT AIN’T TRULY HYPERSPECIFIC UNTIL YOU CAN IDENTIFY EACH MONSTER SPECIES BY ITS UNIQUE PARASITIC LOAD, OKAY.

and, with regards to behavior-affecting parasites, before anyone brings up Cordyceps (Ophiocordyceps, as of 2008): yeah that sure is a thing! if you weren’t aware, just a couple of years ago we found out it actually is not a mind control fungus!! it bypasses the brain entirely and affects the muscles (Arstechnica article, Atlantic article—photos of fuzzy ants and electron microscope pictures of fungi). or as Ed Yong puts it, “The ant ends its life as a prisoner in its own body. Its brain is still in the driver's seat, but the fungus has the wheel.” which is. significantly worse than the brain thing. awesome!! i bet there would absolutely be similar fungal parasites of endrega and arachasae. real Ophiocordyceps still very much does not affect humans, but you know what, if plants can be cursed into becoming archespores and cultivated by mages i see no reason why mages could not also curse endrega fungus to affect humans, just saying

aaaand quickly back to hyperspecificity: monsters in different geographical areas having different abilities because of their symbionts. forktails in vicovaro acquire a bioluminescent symbiont in their diet that forktails in other parts of the continent can’t get, and they can create flashes of light? that’s sure gonna fuck a witcher on Cat up when he comes in the cave expecting a normal forktail. (geographic location affecting bioluminescence is a thing that actually happens in midshipman fish—Wikipedia link, no parasites.) geographically-dependent symbionts can also produce different toxins and such for their hosts! this isn’t exactly a parasitism thing per se (although parasites are also symbionts because ‘symbiosis’ refers to two organisms in close association not two organisms in positive association) but like. it’s cool okay ecology is so cool

writing fic and tired of all these same-old monsters-of-the-week? quick and easy way to spice up either the horror factor or just make the hunt stand out slightly: just add parasites!! i know i’ve read fics where monsters were described with distinguishing old wounds. you can do the same with parasites! i would fucking swoon over a detail like an ancient water hag’s eyes glowing in the dark, one of them marred by a dangling parasite—geralt notes the blind spot and presses his advantage. (Wikipedia link, no images: this one is referencing an aquatic copepod called Ommatokoita.) also, please put barnacles on skelliger drowners, i want it so badly. just—some percentage of monsters should be Extra Grody on the inside and/or the outside, that’s how nature works. spicing up a mundane hunt by making the monster a little extra gross for its species is Valid, is what I’m saying.

also, every single time frozen specimens with obvious fungal/ectoparasite infections come into the lab we absolutely always take extra close-up pictures of those suckers and make sure everyone else gets to see them. witchers bringing field sketches and notes of the weirdest shit they found on the path back for winter. lambert declares they’ll never know if this alleged fiend tumor was a fungus or mange because geralt sucks at drawing. eskel, the man who hauled a katakan corpse all the way up the mountain so he could dissect it, produces actual skin samples of his own encounters for examination, possibly in the middle of dinner. this elicits mixed reactions.

quick detour into preservation, since I went there—witchers are probably immune to parasites that infect humans by virtue of having pretty different biology to begin with, and probably immune to parasitic infections from other sources by virtue of superhumanly boosted immune systems and all the poison they put into their bodies on a regular basis. picking up a monster parasite would probably not be a big deal for witchers, either in that they have total immunity or that they would only be minimally and briefly affected, but the field of monster biology is likely such that they probably just don’t actually know what would happen to them in the majority of cases. this has potential as a source of battle stories and/or stories intended to freak out trainees, i think. therefore, out of caution, a witcher harvesting/preparing parts for alchemy might want to be sure to treat them first. personally i think all monster parts should be preserved immediately anyways to avoid attracting necrophages, and given that alchemical concoctions in witcherverse are alcohol-based, preservation in strong alcohol is probably the best way to maintain potency and kill basically everything. (cons: alcohol is SUPER heavy and jars are fragile. tissues or organs which are thicker than perhaps half an inch or an inch require additional preparation for the alcohol to penetrate properly. other preservation methods are more efficient for travel. depends on how soon your witcher intends to use or offload their stash.)

also, here’s an absolutely wild marine parasite that would make it worth a witcher’s while to make certain everything was dead! pearlfishes are long eel-like fishes that live inside the anus and respiratory organs (which are attached to the anus) of sea cucumbers, and they have pretty nasty teeth (PDF article link, IMAGE WARNING: dissected sea cucumbers literally stuffed to the gills with pearlfish). the highest number of pearlfish discovered in a single sea cucumber was sixteen (ResearchGate article, free PDF; no images). a different fact: we discovered tiger sharks eat each other in the womb because a researcher got bitten by a fetal tiger shark while he was dissecting the mother (NYT link, no images or parasites). what i’m saying is: parasites are often very small relative to the host and usually harmless to things rummaging around inside, but what if the monster’s parasites were also monstrous. give me a monster that has to be very dead or when you start rummaging around for alchemy ingredients the things in its intestines will lunge out and bite you. 

what happens if a human becomes infected with a monster parasite? bad things, probably, i mentioned before that parasites in the wrong host, if they don’t just die, often super fuck things up internally (if you get tapeworms outside of the intestine where they’re supposed to be... it’s not good y’all. CDC link, no images). host-jumping for parasites is actually fairly rare since most of them are highly specialized for their hosts, but it does happen. humans are very not my strong suit so i’m not going to dwell on this but it is entirely possible that something like necrophage infestations or monster-contaminated water sources or just being a little too involved on a witcher’s monster hunt could produce strange parasitic diseases in humans. up to you how well-known and/or how clouded in superstition these effects might be! opportunities for hideous whump? gross body horror? messy and horrifying parasite-driven behavioral changes? terrifying and potentially prolonged uncertainty over what the issue actually is because of minimal information about parasites? the decision whether or not to dose with a witcher potion? excellent possibilities.

okay last one, just because i think it would be fun: myxosporeans and sirens. Myxos are a parasitic relative of jellyfish that produce whirling disease in baby salmon. whirling disease causes neurological and skeletal damage and has a pretty high mortality rate, but it also makes infected fish do this, well, whirling behavior and it’s honestly fascinating. (video link: a pretty normal-looking young trout spinning like a fuckin top). imagine a siren doing that in the sky. i just think myxos are neat!

tl;dr: extra grody hyperspecific biology of monsters!!!

[fal-carrington]

168 hours without you

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc

Disclaimer: Characters belongs to PB

A/N: Mother has arrived bitches

Prompt: Married life was something so new, so strange and wonderfully good, being a wife was something Kamilah would never have imagined she was extremely good at, but when Mia has to travel to a business conference and spend a week away, Kamilah will have to deal with the 168 hours without her wife, can she handle it?

tag list: @made-me-deep-blue @gavryllo @kamilahtopme @nighthuntresskatherine @iam-the-fuckin-queen @whoinvitedalx @thepotatobleh @zerozone-80 @shanuuh @scarlet-letter-a0114​ @soundtrackforlife​ @thecleveridiot09​ @wildsayeed @deereboy97​ @justejuste727​ @ilovekamilahsayeed​ @otakufangirl-12 @sapphics-choices @desireepow-1986

The penthouse, 21:45pm

Leaning against the threshold of the door, Kamilah stood silently watching Mia, with her back to her, patiently packing her suitcase, folding piece after piece and placing them in her Louis Vuitton suitcase.

"So, are you leaving already?" The question came out in a low tone, but enough so Mia could hear it.

"Yup" She answered without turning around, her attention focused on her purse and the items she was going to put in it. "Do you think it would be too much if I put on a sixth dress? I want to keep my options open."

Kamilah shook her head when she heard that, an affectionate smile on her lips.

"In all my business trips, I never considered adding more than two dresses, but you seem to be the exception to the rule."

Mia laughed looking over her shoulder with her greenish eyes, and that bright dimpled smile, which made Kamilah's heart soar with a certain frequency, more than she would like to admit out loud.

"I am aware, Mrs Sayeed." She smiled and went back to what she was doing.

Kamilah crossed her arms and entered the room, seeing Mia going on a business trip to London, leaving her at a crossroads of feelings.

She was proud, incredibly proud that her wife had ascended to such an important position as COO of Raines Corp, even though Adrian was now completely devoted to his position as Senator of New York, he still remained CEO, and the promotion her wife had received was more than deserved.

However, another part of her heart still remained restless, both were married for only 4 months and that was still all too new for her, and seeing her wife travel, and spending a week away negotiating with investidors in London and leaving her in New York alone in their penthouse, made her heart restless more than she would have liked.

"I know you're worried about me" Mia broke the silence, surprising Kamilah before she could say anything. "But it'll be okay, I promise. I won't mess up this opportunity."

Her words left Kamilah surprised in those mere seconds, and Mia saw this, her green eyes carefully watching her wife recover her composure and her usual stoic look.

"I-" Kamilah began to say, but was interrupted by her young wife.

"Telepath, remember? I know you don't like it when someone invade your mind. It's not as if I'm reading your thoughts on purpose, sometimes it gets out of my control." She shrugged.

"What I mean is I know the importance of this trip and the seriousness, and it's an opportunity to show Adrian that he wasn't wrong to give me the COO job, and to show you that I've matured."

A smile escaped Kamilah's lips before she could contain it.

"I know. I see it, every day."

"You know you could go with me." Mia approached Kamilah, a small trace of hope in her eyes.

Kamilah smiled at her words. As much as she wanted to go with her wife, she knew that this was to be her trip, and the success of the negotiation depended exclusively on her, and Kamilah did not want to steal her merit or distract her from her goal. Besides, she still had to keep her company in control too.

"You know my company needs me, even if I am supervising from home, and my garden needs my attention too."

"I knew you'd say that" Mia gave a smug smile that Kamilah knew perfectly well and turned her attention to her bag.

"Okay, I think we're all set." Mia climbed up the zipper of her purse, looking around at all her necessary utensils on the bed. "I think I've got everything I need."

"Dresses"? Check. Heels? Check. Dryer, toothbrush, notebook and everything a modern woman needs to survive on a trip? Check. Joke cards to tell at the meeting? Check."

Kamilah rolled her eyes.

"You're not taking this." She said by approaching and taking the joke cards out of her wife's hands. "That'll stay with me."

"Hey! I got great jokes there." Mia tried to take them back, uselessly.

"Are you seriously considering telling jokes during an important business meeting?" Kamilah arched one of her eyebrows, knowing Mia that was a silly question. Of course she would.

"I don't see a problem with that, it's to relieve more of the weather and tension. I do it when I'm nervous."

"Absolutely not." The Egyptian vampire ripped up the cards and threw them in the bathroom trash.

"Uh... You know I have a copy of these with my assistant, right?" Mia said pointing to the bathroom.

"You're unbelievable." Kamilah rolled her eyes again.

"I prefer the term ‘misunderstood amazing genius’, but we can work with that one too.”

Mia checked her wristwatch.

"Alright, I have to run so I don't catch traffic."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather use the jet? I'm not using it."

"Of course not." Mia took her bags out of bed without the slightest effort and put them on the floor, wearing her overcoat that was on the bed. "It's a business trip for Adrian to make a profit, and besides, I'd much rather travel at the expense of the company and Adrian than yours. It's my way of fighting capitalism."

Kamilah didn't contain her smug smile.

"Do I need to remind you of your salary before we go to argue about capitalism?"

"Nobody's perfect." Mia fired back while finishing the final touches to her makeup.

Kamilah accompanied her with her handbag, while both went down the stairs towards the elevator. Mia left her bags on the elevator floor and took a step towards Kamilah.

"I love you." Mia fired before Kamilah could say anything. "Kind of a lot."

Kamilah laughed a little, smiling affectionately.

"I love you too. Very much." Mia wrapped Kamilah's neck with her arms, standing on tiptoe and giving her a long, warm, deep kiss.

"I'll miss you every day." Mia said. "I don't know how I'm going to sleep without you, I got used to sleeping with you, you know? Because when I hug you when we go to sleep cuddling, your hot ass warms me up during the night. And there's this way that we sleep that you fit in with me, which is so good."

"Was that supposed to be a declaration of love?" Kamilah arched an eyebrow, the humor evident in her face.

"Of course it was." Mia rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips. "I love you, babe." She said leaving kisses on Kamilah's cheek and lips.

"All right, before I go I want to say goodbye to someone else, where is he?" Mia looked over Kamilah's shoulder, looking for that little fuzzy ball.

"Come on, kid." She whistled with her fingers, and seconds later, a little Corgi's puppy appeared in the penthouse living room, with his tongue out, his collar leaping as he ran, stumbling on his own paws trying to get to Mia.

Kamilah watched the scene with her usual stoic look, maybe that dog was the animal personification of her wife, — dumbass, hyperactive, always cheerful and clumsy.

"Who's the good boy? It's you, Dexter. You're mommy's good boy." Mia got down on her knees to welcome him, picking him up on her lap and pouring kisses into his hairy body. Dexter reciprocated her affection by cheerfully wagging his little tail.

Kamilah remembered perfectly the day Mia adopted Dexter.

"Please, please?" Mia followed her through the penthouse, while Kamilah kept busy with some reports from her company that had just arrived. 

"No." Kamilah responded without diverting her attention from her reports.

"Why not? I won't even buy it! We won him. My cousin's dog had puppies and she asked if we'd want one, I don't see why not adopt one. He'll keep us company."

Kamilah sighed, stopping in the hall, turning to look at her wife.

"We live in a penthouse..."

"...Which is very big, by the way."

"The dog will bark and defecate and leave excrement all over the house, and I don't know if you've noticed, but I have objects over 2000 years old in this house, worth millions, which would make me very angry if some animal destroyed them.”

"It could be our son, love."

"When your mother asked us when we'd give her grandchildren, I don't think it crossed her mind that it could be a dog. The answer is no." Kamilah walked down the hall again.

"Don't you love me anymore?!" Mia screamed after her trying to keep up, frowning.

"I love you, even too much. Stop being dramatic, I'm doing this for your own good."

Mia ran in front of her and crossed her arms, staring at the tall vampire, the woman who for many could be the worst nightmare of their lives.

"You want to bet me we'll adopt him?" Mia smiled with conviction. 

Kamilah gave her the smile back.

"Nothing you do will convince me to keep him. I am a woman of my word."

...

"What were you saying?" Mia lifted her face, with a sarcastic smile on her lips, the apparent victoriness before her wife.

Kamilah opened her mouth to answer, still panting. Her chest descending and rising as her breathing returned to normal. Ignoring her wife's words, she took it upon herself to pull up her pants and fasten her belt, then closing the buttons on her shirt.

"I can't believe you convinced me through sex."

"Fucking mind blowing good sex, by the way." Mia laughed leaving a kiss on her right shoulder.

"You can keep the dog, but I don't want him near my plants, my things and my garden, you hear? You're responsible for him," she said standing and leaving the room.

...

"I don't want to be late, I better go." Mia stood and left him on the floor. "Take care of him, okay? His things are in the kitchen. I think you two can keep each other company while I'm gone."

Kamilah rolled her eyes.

"Looks like I don't have much choice." Mia gave her that bright dimpled smile, came up and kissed her.

"Behave yourself while I'm gone." She gave her that look Kamilah knew well, a funny look, but deep down, Kamilah knew about her wife's jealousy, and she had fun knowing that. "I promise I will behave and not cause any confusion."

"As if you could keep that promise." Kamilah laughed, gently kissing her lips.

"Well, at least I can promise to make you proud. I'll make you proud of me, you'll see." Mia got in the elevator and pressed the button.

"Call me when you get to the hotel." Kamilah said, Mia just nodded before the doors closed. "And so there were only two left."

Day 1

The alarm clock next to the bedside began to ring, showing that it was already morning, the CEO passed her hand through her tired eyes, she sighed, her hand stretching out to her right side, finding only the emptiness.

She was not there. But her perfume remained present, as if she had slept through the night next to Kamilah. The Egyptian woman stood under her elbows and lit the lamp beside the bed, turning off the annoying alarm that sounded over her ears. Automatically she looked to her right side, being greeted by just a smiling photo of Mia in a portrait beside the bed.

"It's weird not having you here and waking me up with all that noise you make in the morning." Kamilah laughed at herself with that thought and sat down, looking for her slippers.

As she looked down, she was greeted by Dexter who was nibbling her slippers with his little teeth.

"How you got up here I'll never know." Kamilah sighed and took her slippers and put them on. The dog sat down and looked at her, tilting his head to the side. "Well, good morning to you too."

Kamilah put on her black robe, and left her room going to the bathroom for her morning routine involving a great dozen hair and skincare products. After finishing, she directed her attention to the kitchen after a good breakfast, being followed by Dexter who ran as fast as his little paws allowed.

With the intention of preparing her breakfast, Kamilah turned on the coffee maker and set out to prepare her pancakes. With Mia absent, she knew perfectly well that she would not get her morning coffee made by her wife, she would never admit it, but she had a weakness for the coffee made by Mia.

As soon as she set the table, Dexter's bark caught her eye.

"Are you hungry?" She asked to him. Then, she made sure there was food and water in the bowls, which made him run to her to eat.

Never that she thought she would have a dog, Mia really was a box of surprises, it was amazing how she made Kamilah agree to everything.

Sitting at her usual place at the table, having everything settled and reading the newspaper, her cell phone started vibrating on the table and Kamilah caught him, seeing a picture of Mia on the screen. She smiled unconsciously.

"Hey!"

"Good morning, my love." Kamilah smiled.

"Okay, first of all, hotel rooms on the penthouse are incredible! Ugh, you don't know how I missed sleeping with you. And that wonderful thing you do in my hair, you know what I'm saying?"

"I certainly missed sleeping with you too, and you stealing all the bed space, sleeping on me and stealing all the covers for yourself."

"It's not my fault what my subconscious does and I've apologized!"

Kamilah laughed lovingly.

"How's the trip?"

"It's great, I've been to three stores and yes, I ignored you and bought you a present, even though you said it wasn't necessary."

"You're impossible."

"Just fulfilling my duties as a wife. How are you doing? I bet it sucks to stay in New York without me. Without my coffee, without my good morning kisses, and without me to put my Angry Birds socks on your feet every cold night." Kamilah smiled, feeling her playful tone on the other end of the line.

"...Every time I wake up they're on my feet."

"You're welcome."

Kamilah laughed affectionately.

"Well, since you asked, the house is slightly quiet without you. Just the way I like it."

"Oh, come on. You love my noise." Mia laughed. "So, how's Dexter?"

Kamilah spied over the counter, finding him on the carpet.

"Right now he's in a war against a rubber duck." Kamilah listening to the shrill sound coming from the duck being attacked.

"Aw, send me pictures of him later."

"Absolutely not."

"Is everything okay in there?" Mia asked, worried.

"It's all right, my love. I'm fine, and yes, I'll be fine for the whole week."

"That doesn't mean I won't call you every day just to make sure." Mia replied stubbornly, making Kamilah laugh. "I miss you, a lot. I can't wait to come back and see you."

"I miss you too, love. When you come back maybe we could go to that shady restaurant in the suburbs you love to go to."

"Excuse me, I like my shady restaurant in the suburbs, thank you very much, it was the restaurant I used to go to when I didn't have a dollar in my pocket when I started in New York, I have to stay humble, but OH, HELL YES!". Her excitement was so infectious, Kamilah barely noticed the smile on her face.

The CEO could clearly hear voices in the background behind Mia.

"Who's there with you?"

"Just Tyler and Nathalie, my assistants. They're discussing which of my cards I should use first."

Kamilah rolled her eyes.

"And I told you not to use those cards."

"When will you and Adrian learn that I do the opposite of what I'm told to do? It's in my nature."

“Your brat.”

"I have to go, I have a meeting in a few minutes and I have to finish my paperwork. Good luck with your garden and your reports, sweetheart. I love you." Mia said a few seconds to say goodbye and hang up.

“I love you too.”

Kamilah sighed, a week without Mia would probably be something new, especially knowing that since the wedding they have not separated for a long time, now she would have to spend a week alone, just her in that big apartment, with all her attention on her plants, and with an unexpected company.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

[phobiadeficient]

hey!!! I've been a fan of your work since your long running speeding bullet fic started! ur writing has been really inspirational to read, and I've fallen in love with the style of prose you use. would you consider doing something with stockings or the like with speeding bullet? love, the tea anon

thanks tea anon!! dude that’s been a fuckin while then huh sheesh dude thanks for stickin with me. this is a longer one for not as much nsfw but hey it happens

-

Scout knew he had good legs, alright? He already knew that. They were on the same page about Scout’s absolutely killer legs. Fuckin’ fantastic. What he didn’t get was why Sniper felt the need to add something else to the mix there. Why mess with perfection? It was a little insulting.

The only reason he was even considering this was the fact that Sniper had, first of all, asked very nicely. Gone to the effort of buttering him up over it and everything. Brought it up when they were out to eat—not anywhere too fancy, because they didn’t like too fancy and there wasn’t anywhere like that nearby anyways—and been real sweet about it. And second of all, Sniper had mentioned in passing, not naming any dates in particular, that it was his birthday fairly soon. And third…

Well.

He was sat on his bed, looking over the dumb things, late at night when he was pretty sure nobody else was gonna come by and try and bother him. And man. They were like, high quality. And it wasn’t like Scout would actually know or anything, he didn’t have a ton of experience with that sort of stuff, but they looked like they must’ve been expensive.

He rubbed the material of the stockings between his finger and thumb, amazed at the smoothness of it. He remembered being a kid and fucking around with all the coats and hats and stuff they had lined up next to their door in the winter, and really hating how itchy the lace on his mom’s scarf was, even just against his fingers, but these were soft. Really soft. Soft and smooth and…

Sniper wasn’t really the type to blow through money on stuff. Even out of the food he bought to stock his camper, the only name brand stuff he had was the soda he kept for Scout and this one specific brand of beer. He was always wicked careful with money, so careful, and that he clearly spent a real pretty penny on this one thing that he wanted Scout to just wear once to try it out and that Scout might’ve said no to…

Scout looked down at his legs, bared by the shorts he’d put on to sleep. And in his own head he’d managed to land on indignance that Sniper apparently didn’t think they were good enough on their own, their being damn great and all, but… these were too nice for him. The muscle definition he had going on was straight up insane. But his legs were pretty hairy, overall.

Scout’s facial hair grew so slowly it might as well not be growing at all, it taking a solid month for him to even get proper stubble through how light his hair was, but he owned a razor anyways. He went and grabbed it, and headed to go take a late night shower.

An hour later, back in his room, he was stood looking in his mirror, legs now very nice and smooth (except for one or two places around his knees where he’d knicked himself a bit but no big deal), in a pair of briefs and holding up the stockings in front of himself trying to visualize how they would look.

Okay. So they were fuckin’ nice. They were gonna look great. He was pretty sure the second Sniper walked in and saw Scout sitting around in these, he was either going to cream himself on the goddamn spot or do that real nice thing where he pinned Scout down and growled all kinds of filth into his ear until Scout creamed himself on the goddamn spot. They were gonna look fuckin’ good.

But the briefs were fucking up his look. Like, they fit good and everything, but standard navy briefs with really expensive stockings? He was putting three thousand dollar rims on a hatchback, here.

He walked over to his dresser, started digging through.

And, okay, the panties weren’t his, first of all, he didn’t buy them or anything. They were from back when he was super into the dating scene, when they were stationed near enough to a bigger town so that it was an option. And he felt a little bad that he didn’t even remember the girl’s name that they belonged to, but it wasn’t like he’d stolen them or anything, she’d just left it behind and he figured, hey, why the hell not. It wasn’t like the shitty motel needed them, probably had a stack of the things in the back room or whatever. And maybe he’d see her again and be able to give them back. (He absolutely hadn’t.)

But they were black like the stockings, and the girl had been like, about his size—maybe a bit bigger actually, at least roundwise, because when it came to girls maybe he had a little bit of a type—and he was pretty sure they’d fit him, just seeing them next to his briefs in the drawer.

He pulled them on, and the stockings as well for good measure, and went to stand in front of the mirror.

They actually fit pretty good. He had to kind of mess with how his dick was sat, and where the waist of it was supposed to be, but once he got everything situated, they fit good. And they weren’t quite as bombshell fancy as the stockings, but still damn nice.

His gaze drifted up, landed on his dog tags. The clasp was kinda twisted around towards the front, and he fixed it. His hair was kinda wet and messy from the shower he’d just taken, and he brushed it into better order with one hand, smoothing down the places where it tried to be weird, mussing it a little.

And, okay. He wasn’t a short guy or anything, he was pretty average, maybe an inch or two on some guys, even a little taller-looking just because he had good posture. But Sniper was like, six foot three, and his boots gave him almost another inch. It was ridiculous.

And some part of Scout figured, hey, dressed all nice, looking really good, it would be nice to be tall too.

The heels were from a Halloween costume a few years back, when he’d done a fun bit and spent the few weeks before the part going on about how his costume was gonna be from Bonnie and Clyde, and everyone ragging on him that he would never be able to pull off Clyde for a laundry list of reasons, and then when the actual day came he showed up as Bonnie. It was hilarious—at least to a few of the team. Spy and Medic thought it was really dumb. But a few of the mercs and Miss Pauling had all laughed, so it was totally worth it.

And he still had the heels. He’d lost most of the rest of the costume—he was pretty sure he still had the sweater?—but he definitely still had the heels. They’d been expensive and simple enough that he figured he could reuse them some other year for a different costume.

They’d blistered like a bitch when he’d tried to break them in before the party, but he’d messed with them enough that he wouldn’t literally die when he had to wear them all night for the party itself, and now they were comfortable, and made him a solid few inches taller.

Made his legs look even nicer, too. And when he stepped over to the mirror again after putting them on, they made a real nice click against the floor. Hm. Damn, dude. He gave himself a spin, a twist back and forth, and damn. Damn.

He looked fuckin’ good.

Okay. So Sniper was absolutely right. The stockings were a great idea. He was aware that he was already pretty hot shit, but seriously. If he saw a person this attractive in public, he wouldn’t even be able to talk to them. Like, legally. He’d walk up and be like “hey what’s up” and then they’d probably have like a bodyguard or something who would step forward all “no autographs” and like, call him buddy but in the way that meant he was about to get his neck snapped. That hot.

He’d never really thought of the word “prettyboy” as an actual insult, it was only really an insult for guys too macho to appreciate a different kind of aesthetic, but he’d never really gotten any kind of feeling in particular about it being stuck to him. But now? Boy was he pretty. And he was kind of super into it. Confidence boost, like the one time every billion years when he actually got Uber’d because Medic was popping it anyways because he was about to die and trying to retreat and hey, might as well buff Scout since he was literally the only other person in a hundred foot radius.

He was totally gonna fuck up Sniper’s whole week with this. He was gonna break Sniper with how good he looked. Dude was gonna have a heart attack and drop dead. Holy shit.

The next day he went over to visit Sniper before breakfast and all but demanded that Sniper make time for him that evening. And all through battle he was at the top of his game, moving like a maniac and wreaking absolute havoc on the field. He got a clap on the back from Engie on the way off the field, a friendly bump on the shoulder from Demo, and at Soldier’s usual daily “be better at your job” lecture to each individual teammate, Scout found his laden with pauses as Soldier tried to think of anything he did that was even a little less than top notch.

He felt good. He felt real good. And when he got back to his room after showers and pulled on the outfit, sweatpants and a t-shirt over top, heels packed into his bag with a few more essentials for sleeping over (because he felt good enough that he had a feeling there would be a couple rounds over the course of the evening, and he didn’t wanna trudge back to base after all that), he still felt good, felt incredible even. Sniper wasn’t even gonna know what hit him.

He got to the camper, kissed Sniper in greeting, and Sniper was in high spirits as well, maybe picking up on Scout’s good mood. He allowed himself a long feel up the back of Scout’s shirt, and Scout grinned at it, glancing Sniper up and down.

“Hey,” he started in, pausing where he’d idly been working at Sniper’s buttons, the top few popped open. “Remember that thing you asked? When we went out to eat?”

Sniper’s eyebrow rose. “The outfit?”

Scout nodded, grinning all the wider. “Yeah, well, I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he said, head tilting a little to one side, “and I figured I’d try it on, see how I’d look and all. And I liked it, so…”

Sniper’s gaze was intense.

“So, I put it on,” Scout said.

Sniper’s hand shifted to hold onto Scout’s thigh, pulling Scout in and against himself as he did so. “Is that right?” he asked, other eyebrow rising to match the first.

“Yeah.” He pushed on Sniper’s chest. “But you gotta get outta here for a second so I can show you. I wanna do this right.”

Sniper shrugged, disconnecting from Scout, doing the buttons of his shirt back up in a few efficient movements. “Would a few minutes work?” he asked, picking his hat up and putting it on.

“Yeah. Like, five minutes,” Scout agreed.

“Awright. I’ll knock before I come back in,” he said, and stepped outside, closing the door behind him with a parting wink.

Scout closed the blinds and stripped quickly, kicking off his shoes and putting the heels on instead. He fixed his tags in the mirror, combing his hand through his hair a few times fretfully.

Okay. He looked good. He knew he looked good. He looked great. Really hot. And he totally had this.

A glance at the little clock next to Sniper’s bed. Two minutes had passed.

Okay, so he was a little nervous actually. Sniper didn’t have a full length mirror, so he just sorta had to lean on the table to pull the stockings up to just the right place on his legs, had to twist to get a good look at himself, had to hope nothing was crooked because it was kind of hard to tell. And then he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to be when Sniper came back in—standing? Sitting on the table? On the bed?

A glance at the clock. Three minutes.

He leaned on the table, feeing a little tense. Okay. So he thought he looked good. But suddenly Scout couldn’t help but wonder if Sniper was going to think he looked good. Was all of what he was doing… too much? He’d only asked for the stockings, and here Scout was, heels and stuff, and maybe Sniper would just take one step in the door and laugh. And maybe Sniper wasn’t even actually sure he liked stockings, and just wanted to try something new. And now Scout was trying way too hard, and was going to seem ridiculous—

Four minutes.

He hadn’t planned for this. His sleep clothes were just a pair of boxers and the shirt he’d worn over in the first place, he didn’t have something less dumb to change into, especially not considering the track record they had with clothes getting dirty, and even if he took all the stuff off Sniper would probably want to do something to make sure he didn’t waste his evening, and… and there wasn’t time to change now anyways. He laid down on the bed, hand over his face, trying desperately to feel less stupid, to put on a game face for when Sniper came in, to not look like a complete and utter wreck.

He was such an idiot.

A knock at the door. He managed something like a “come in”, and forced his gaze to stay facing the ceiling when he heard it open, even as he managed to pull his hand down, folding his arms behind his head.

Silence. The door closing, firmly, and locking. “Holy dooley,” Sniper practically gasped, and Scout swallowed hard, couldn’t help but glance over. Sniper’s jaw was hanging, hat in his hand at his side.

He wanted a little bit to curl up and hide. He didn’t, just looking at Sniper.

“Stand,” Sniper tried, but his throat was dry, and he needed to clear it before he tried to speak again. “Stand up.”

Scout felt a tremor in his hands as he followed the instruction, absolutely on fire. Sniper stepped forward to meet him after a few seconds, holding him out at arm’s length, gaze catching on all sorts of things as he looked down, down.

When he finally looked up to meet Scout’s eyes, it was with a grin. “Felt like being tall, aye?” he asked, teasing.

“Maybe,” Scout said, a little defensive.

“Gorgeous little thing,” Sniper murmured, threading fingers through his hair against his scalp and pushing Scout’s head down anyways so Sniper could press a kiss to his temple, his chuckle reverberating through Scout’s chest. “Feels almost like I ought to be paying you. You look too nice to be standin’ around in a cramped little place like this on purpose.”

“You can pay me by not makin’ fun and not tellin’ anybody I wore this,” Scout murmured right back, leaning in to bury his face in Sniper’s neck.

“Darl, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” Sniper asked, a smile on his voice.

“I’m annoyed,” Scout corrected, even thought he wasn’t. “You’re lucky it’s almost your birthday.”

“I really am,” Sniper agreed, hand down on Scout’s thigh, toying with one of the tiny little bows, much further within his reach with the heels. “Mind if I lay you out and get a good look at you?”

“Fine,” Scout said, halfway to a sigh, and sat down on the bed. Before he could turn and lay down, Sniper was pushing his legs apart with a hand on either knee and kneeling between them.

He picked up one of Scout’s legs and lifted it to place it over his shoulder, turning his head to nose at the intricate patterns of the lace. He hummed, satisfied and pleased, eyes falling closed as he placed kisses scattered randomly across the expanse he had available to him.

Another chuckle, muffled into skin and thin fabric. “Oh, darl, I’m not making it ten minutes before I fall apart on you if you’re in this,” he admitted, flashing a half-apologetic half-hungry look up at Scout.

He felt his breath catch. A few seconds to collect himself enough to respond. “Well, as long as you’re good for more than one round,” he teased, only slightly wavering.

Sniper didn’t give a verbal reply to that, just starting in on a mark up above where the lace ended on Scout’s thigh, thumb drawing circles against fabric with one hand as the other set to work patiently starting to pull off his own clothes

He riled Scout up past the point of forgetting how embarrassing his outfit was and right up into desperate, into trying to touch himself and Sniper leaning up to pin his arms down, grinding slow rolls against Scout’s ass, boxers dulling the feeling down to just the push and pressure of it, until he was outright begging for Sniper to get on with it. Sniper yanked the panties down and off of him and sucked him off slow and patient, indulging Scout in two fingers only when he begged for them, and he hadn’t had eyes on the clock or anything, but he spent himself down Sniper’s throat in something like five minutes flat.

Sniper made a sound of discomfort when he finally sat up, rolling his shoulders. Scout got up on his elbows, fixing him with a look of confusion somewhere under the contentment, watching him trying to reach a hand to his own back, wincing hard.

“You okay?” Scout asked, starting to frown, sitting up fully with the help of shaky arms.

“Think the bloody heels got me,” Sniper grunted.

Scout caught sight of his back and his eyes widened. “Jesus,” he said, “turn around real quick?”

Sniper did, and Scout’s eyebrows shot up.

There were a series of marks along Sniper’s back, some of them scratches, mostly just sharp lines. It looked like Sniper had whacked himself on a table corner by accident, except a good five or six times and only along his back. Scout felt his face flush. He knew once in the past Sniper had complained about Scout having knocked him on the back pretty hard, but he hadn’t really considered the heels being a problem.

“Oh god,” Scout managed, leaning forward, brushing a thumb along one of the worse ones and being a little alarmed at the fact that it was bleeding. “Uh. You’ve got a first aid kit in here, right?”

“Scout,” Sniper said sternly.

“I—I’m gonna be honest, I knew this outfit was probably really gonna fuck with you, but I, I didn’t think it’d… this isn’t what I thought,” Scout managed, face burning hot.

“You fuckin’ drongo,” Sniper growled, swatting at him loosely and moving to dig through one of the cabinets.

“Sorry,” Scout tried, and meant it.

“Just—right, put a sheet on, lord knows I won’t be able to take care of this if I’m looking at you in that,” Sniper directed, giving him a sidelong glance and up-and-down to illustrate, and Scout did so without protest, dragging the sheet from the bed up around himself loosely, covering up to about his ribcage. “Care to help, darl?”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed. “And—and I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him, hands pausing for a minute.

“Like—“ Scout fished through his mind for something he could offer to make up for the mood being abruptly ruined. “Like, I’ll buy the next pair of these.”

“A whole set, maybe?” Sniper asked, joking now, eyes front.

“Sure.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, and he groaned, finally fishing out a first aid kit and standing up. “Cripes, mate, don’t get me thinking about it,” he warned, handing it over and sitting between Scout’s legs, turned away from him. “Need to clean these up before anything else.”

“Sure,” Scout repeated, and pulled a sanitizing wipe from its package. “Alright. This is gonna sting.”

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Part 10) - Ashes On My Shoes

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. (For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.)

Chapter warnings: Flirting, swearing. 

Chapter WC: 2,458

The night of the Texas show was here. Stef was always nervous for every gig, why wouldn’t she be? There were a hundred and one ways that things could go sideways. Most of them had already happened during her career. But Jared would be at this show. He had text her to say he was incoming, ’With the boys.’ She assumed Jensen would be joining him. 

The bus was parked up next to the venue, the first of bands that were playing with them had started their set. Stef was already dressed for the stage, usually she kept it simple enough but tonight she made a special effort to be a little more flamboyant. Claire had helped her put together this flowing ensemble. A dress with a plunging neckline that just about reached to her navel, long sleeves and a train of black and silver material that followed her around as she walked. It was a flirty, Morticia Addams inspired dress with a slit up the front that came up to her knees. When she moved it dragged behind her, showing off her long legs. 

The legs that Jared had kissed and ran his fingers up and down teasingly the last time they were together. He said he loved her legs. She loved them when they were wrapped around his waist.

‘Focus, Stef.’ she scolded herself in the hand held mirror she used to put on her make up. 

Just then her tour manager pulled open the door, shouting ‘you decent?’

‘Yeah, come on in,’ Stef had one more coat of mascara to do and she was done.

‘Wow, you look great. You going on a date afterwards?’ Jeff was cool, he was a friend from years back, from the beginning. Always a good guy to have with you on tour. You needed a snack at 3am, he got it. You needed a replacement guitar string before you ran on stage, he had it ready. 

‘Maybe.’

Jeff carried on with his checklist, talking to himself more than to her.

‘Your stuff is on stage, the band are hanging in the waiting room. You staying on the bus?’ 

‘Nah, I’m going to go in now.’

‘Just so you know there are some fans at the gate, waiting for you.’

There were always a few people hanging around the venue before her shows. The first time she got off a bus with people shouting her name was definitely one of the highlights of the business for her. They were the reason why she still did shows. Her fans were always hungry for more music.

Recognising a few of the faces in the crowd, Stef hung with them for a few minutes.

They were complimentary about her ‘new style,’ asking if it was for the new album.

She agreed, butterflies nesting in her stomach again at the thought that she had made this effort just for Jared. What had become of her?

Smiling and doing her best poses with the fans, she waved them goodbye. Promising to give them a shoutout from the stage.

The venue was packed. Though she put that down to the most excellent support acts that were with her. Slipping into the backstage area through the rear entrance, she noticed her band mates were rowdy. 

‘What is it about the Texas crowds that get you guys so wound up?’ She laughed, watching the empty mini bottles of Jager tumble down from their ludicrous game of dominoes. 

‘What is it about Texas that’s got you looking like that?’ Evan queried, the boys wolf whistled. 

‘Settle down.’ She scolded. Forever the mother. These guys had been around nearly as long as Jeff. She found them all adorable and annoying, referring to them as her ‘hairy ass babies.’

Curing her nerves with two glasses of whiskey, she saw the second support act coming backstage, sweaty and loud. 

They’d be up next. 

Jeff appeared again, ‘Hey Stef, c’mere.’ 

‘Your friends just arrived,’ he said in a hushed tone, nodding his head towards Jared and Jensen. Misha stepped out from behind the two taller men and waved energetically. ‘Hey!’ he called across the corridor at her.

Stef ushered them into the room. Giving Jensen and Jared a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. Jared was smiling from ear to ear, but said nothing.

‘Hey hot momma,’ Jensen tried to keep a straight face, glancing at Jared. ‘Can’t wait for the show. We brought this idiot, he loves your music too.’

‘I’m a new fan.’ Misha pulled her into a tight hug. ‘Not as big a fan as Jared, but I still love your stuff.’ 

Misha seemed to be a guy you could instantly like. Stef patted him on the back, letting him know that the hug was done. 

’Sorry, I’m excited to meet you. Jared talks about you non stop.’

‘Do I?’ Jared was looking at Stef, taking her in, his eyes pausing on all the right places of the dress. 

‘You do, actually.’ Jensen clapped his friend on the back. ‘Come on, let’s get ready for this show then.’ He gave Misha a playful push out the door and threw Jared a look that said ‘hurry up.’

When they had disappeared, Jeff pointing the way up to the box Stef had booked for them, Jared was still standing over her. ‘You look beautiful.’

She could feel herself getting a little bashful. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, deciding it was best to just say it rather than pass it off as ‘this old thing?’

‘Good luck, I can’t wait to see you play.’ He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips. That surprised her, she didn’t think he wanted to advertise that they were somewhat ‘together.’ 

‘I can’t wait to play for you.’ Stef smiled, giving his chin a little tug. 

‘You got about five minutes,’ Jeff came back and took Jared by the arm, leading him out of the door. 

With the lights glaring into her face, she could never see the crowd. That often helped with her nerves. Being up there made her feel so vulnerable, that was why she loved doing it so much. It was like therapy, pouring her heart out into the songs and letting them take over. The crowd were waiting impatiently when the lights went down. It was her cue to walk on stage. The guys were at their instruments, playing the intro to the new single. Stef reached the mic as the beat kicked in, her words flowing easily. Everything sounded right. In the moment, she forgot everyone around her. Forgot about Jared sitting forward in his seat taking in the show, watching her move with the music, doubled over when the high notes required it. 

There was little time to chat between songs, Stef preferred it that way. It was easier to just get on with it. 

She hated the ‘hey there..*insert city* you’re the best.’

Halfway through the set, she thanked the crowd for coming out, introduced the band and pulled out her acoustic guitar. 

‘This isn’t usual for me, I like to kick it full steam ahead for you guys. But, someone recently sang this song to me and it revived some old feelings. Despair and lost love. Sounds good, right?’ The crowd whooped and cheered.

‘Ok, cool.’ Stef started right into the song, keeping the pace that Jared had set when he sang it to her on the floor of Jensen’s cabin the night they first made love. 

Burning soft skin of two

Trying hard to let go of you

Hoping it will do

Pulled right out from underneath you

She heard the crowd singing it along with her, her breath caught in her throat when she finished the song, pushing her guitar aside and holding up her hands in thanks to the fans. 

‘You know what, I don’t usually say this, but y’all ARE the fuckin’ best.’ 

Backstage, everyone was in high spirits. The whiskey was flowing and Stef was so buzzed. Misha was taking pictures of the band, wanting her to strike some ridiculous poses with Jensen and Jared.

Several of the shots made it on to instagram. Jared and ‘the boys,’ each posted a picture with Stef, exclaiming about how great the show had been and how excited they were to be invited backstage.

Stef even posted one with Misha, Jensen and Jared holding her up as she lay across them. There were so many comments on it, she just didn’t have the energy to read them.

Back on the bus, the guys were continuing their little party in the ‘living area’ behind the driver. Jared had come back with Stef to have a chat before they had to go.

Checking that no one was watching, Stef pulled him halfway into her tiny bunk, there was no way the both of them would fit in there but they managed to squeeze in, legs dangling out from behind the curtain. Giggling like teenagers, they made out for a while. Jared punctuating each kiss with how much he enjoyed the show. Eventually, after several phone calls from an increasingly pissed Jensen, Jared took his leave. Kissing her wrist to her shoulder and then giving her several kisses that made her head spin, he left. 

‘Stefanie’s got a boyfriend!’ One of the guys stuck his head out through the sliding door of the living area, he was so drunk he could barely stand. 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Stef threw a pair of his balled up socks at him. ‘And clean up after your-damn-selves.’ 

The next day they were playing a much smaller venue, but the crowds were still coming out, thankfully.

Stef had taken a moment to look at her tagged posts on social media. There were a few great shots taken the night before, she was incredibly grateful her tits didn’t pop out of her dress. 

‘Wow, you know J2?’ ‘OMG Jensen’ ‘OMG Jared’. Was how most of the comments were going. Several were suggesting she was fucking one of them, or all three.

‘She sucks, her music sucks and she’s ugly.’ Charming. Stef often deleted the nasty ones, coz who wants to see them, right? 

There were more followers on all platforms, that was nice. More people to hear the music, she supposed.

Her heart skipped a beat on seeing a post on insta from Jared. It was a picture of them striking a ridiculous pose, his arm around her waist. They were doing their best blue steel. The second was a shot of him, Jensen and Misha heads together at the show and the third was Stef on stage, she couldn’t recall what part of the night it was. 

‘If anyone gets a chance to see this girl live, go see her. You rocked us last night, Stef. So proud of you.’ Several love hearts.

Misha commented, ‘get your hands off my girl, Jared.’

Jared: ‘And how long do you know her that you think you can lay claim?’

Jensen posted several laughing emojis, ‘as MJ said boys, ‘the girl is mine.’

Stef liked each of the comments. Adding her own ‘I’d take all three of you, no problem.’ To which Jared added a sad face and a broken heart. 

Her phone began vibrating, the long stream of comments disappearing. Oscar’s name was flashing on screen.

‘Hello, Oscar.’ Her voice was a little husky from the night before.

‘There she is. I see your show was well received last night.’

‘Oh?’ She feigned ignorance. 

‘There is a write up about it already, some fans of Supernatural are getting quite excited about it. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone from the show would you?’

‘Maybe.’

She heard Oscar sighing down the phone where there would usually be laughter.

‘You better not be messing around with a married man, Effie.’

‘Why would that be any of your fucking business, Oscar?’

‘I thought as much, you won’t deny it either. I noticed something about you when you came down for Dar’s party.’

‘You noticed what?’

‘Well, don’t get me wrong you are always lovely but you were simply glowing when you arrived at the airport.’

‘Oh shut up, you’re so full of crap.’

‘Am I?’

She supposed he wasn’t. But again, she didn’t want to tell him he was right. 

‘Yeah, your silence speaks volumes.’

‘I’m a big girl, Oscar. I look out for myself. Always have.’

The last two words stung him and she knew it. He shifted in his chair, she heard him clear his throat the way he always did, before he wanted to launch into a speech about how she was getting herself into trouble.

’Before you start, because I know what you’re going to say!’ She warned, hearing him start to tell her to watch herself.

‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m not getting myself into anything I haven’t thought about for many sleepless nights. We have...an agreement.’

Oscar scoffed, ‘so you’re fucking a married man. That’s fine is it?’

‘It is for us, Oscar. Please don’t judge me.’

‘I can’t not judge you. What’s with you lately? You’re not really acting like yourself.’

‘Hey, you told me I needed to loosen up a bit.’

‘Loosening up a little means go out with your friends more and have some fun. Not start a relationship with a married guy. A famous married one at that. Jesus, Stef, you have to be more careful.’

‘Oscar, I appreciate the concern.’

‘That’s it? No fighting back?’

‘I don’t want to fight, not with you. I can’t fight with you anymore.’

Oscar was sighing again. ‘Promise me, you’ll be sensible. I can’t stand seeing you broken hearted.’

‘Oh don’t start that shit again, please.’ Stef buried her face in the crook of her arm, laying across her bunk. 

‘I mean it, Stefanie. Don’t do that to yourself, you’re worth more than that. You’re more than a mistress.’

‘I know that. And as I said, it works for both of us right now.’

‘Yeah, yeah sure. You frustrate me so much, you know that?’

‘I do. It’s why you love me though.’ 

Perhaps she had chosen the wrong words, his voice which had been pleading was now just sad.

‘Fuck sakes. I’m shaking my head right now, but you can’t see me.’

Stef bit her nails, ‘yeah but I can imagine it, vividly. You still got that nice head of hair?’

‘Yep, I’m shaving it off as soon as this movie is done.’

‘I hate your bald head.’ Stef complained.

‘I am doing it just to annoy you, and I will be sending pictures.’

‘Ugh, delete me from your life please.’

‘Never,’ he smiled a little, ‘I gotta go.’

‘Later Oscar.’

‘Goodbye, love.’

CHAPTER 11

[meat-husband]

Brahms Heelshire - Alphabet Ask Meme

I’m hoping to start doing requests on this blog, so I thought I would start up with the alphabet ask memes as a sort of intro! I figure all the letters get asked eventually, so I’m just doing all of them in one go. There will be one of these posted for each character I’m writing.

I have a page with what and who I write for here.

Both the NSFW and fluff alphabet asks are under the cut!

NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

You better be prepared to pamper this boy afterwards – snacks, cuddles, the works. Brahms isn't going to want to lift a finger, but he definitely expects to be taken care of. Get him tucked into bed or cuddled up on the couch, and expect to be there a while, petting his hair, kissing his mask and holding him. Getting up from this position is going to be the hard part. Brahms is a clingy bastard and he's not gonna let go just because you can't feel your legs or you have to pee. If you're lucky, he'll fall asleep and you can sneak away (and risk him waking up grumpy) otherwise, you're in for the long haul.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Brahms is a boob man and I will tolerate no dissent on this topic. It doesn't really matter what size, shape, etc. he just wants dem titties. If you ever need to get him out of the walls, a low cut shirt or clingy sweater is a guaranteed way to get it done quickly.

Not really a body part, but Brahms likes being tall – especially if he's got a short S/O. He might not want to be on top all the time, but he wants to be in charge and it's easier to boss people around when you're nearly two goddamn feet taller than them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn't have much of a preference for where it ends up, which is a good thing considering he's a bit unpredictable. It's hard to tell what or when he might tip over the edge, this boy is 2 seconds away from nutting at any given moment tbh. If it happens to get on him, though, he'll whine and moan about it until you clean him up, preferably with your mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Brahms is a garbage boi, all of his secrets are dirty ones. Probably the one he'd most want to keep hidden from you, though, is the fates of the nanny’s who arrived before you did. He’d be tempted to threaten you with the knowledge, but ultimately he thinks it’s best you don’t know too much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's probably got a computer in that incel man cave of his, so he’s seen some shit - but that doesn't mean he has any idea what to do with a real person. In fact, any pre-planned ideas of what he might do go flying right out the door once he's got a Real Live Naked Person™ in front of him.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Whatever you can do to him while he’s relaxing on a comfy pile of pillows.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Just fuckin' desperate lol.

Clingy, grabby, hard porcelain kisses and lots of bratty whining.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Brahms knows how to bathe and take care of himself. But that's what you're here for. Showers/baths are a couples event now, and you always have to sit on the side of the tub with the faucet. He will absolutely refuse to do even the most basic self care unless you're helping or doing it for him, so haircuts, bath time, laundry days, etc., are up to you to enforce. It's rare that these moments turn into sex, he prefers the bonding and cuddles they bring, so even if he gets a little riled up he'll wait until the moment is over.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

BRUH. The rest of your damn life is going to be one long, intimate moment as far as Brahms is concerned. You are never going to have a damn moment to yourself now. Watching TV? Brahms is right next to you, complaining that you're not paying him enough attention. Reading a book? Bedtime stories only in this house. Making dinner? Brahms is following you around the kitchen, whining that he's hungry but getting in the damn way every step you take. It might get annoying and make you long for five seconds where a giant, hairy man-child isn't tugging on your sleeve, but he thinks this shit is the height of romance. Every remaining second of your life is going to be intimate. His day revolves around you and he expects the same in return.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation head canon)

There is not enough time in the day for all the fucking this boy requires, so he'll have to take care of himself occasionally. Most of the time you never even know about it – he retreats to his room in the walls, or watches you silently through a peep hole somewhere – but if he ever feels like he's being neglected (god forbid you need to leave the house for a few hours, he's like a dog that panics and thinks you're leaving forever) you will wake up one morning to find the most treasured things you own covered in cum. He will refuse to apologize no matter how angry you are – clearly if you'd only take better care of him, this wouldn't have happened.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Skipping over the obvious ones, Brahms is really into body worship. Let him lay back on some soft pillows and spend a while undressing him, giving him soft kisses and quiet whispers of praise. Tbh he'd probably nut before you got to the main event. He also loves being teased, so give him all the kisses he wants, but not where he wants.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Since you're alone in the house, nowhere is really off-limits or taboo. His favorite is probably inside the walls, though. Dark and enclosed, almost not enough space to fit two people, forcing you to keep incredibly close. He might even be comfortable enough to take off the mask in this situation.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, it'd be faster to list what doesn't get him going. He's been touch starved for so long that even innocent touches like hugs and goodnight kisses can set him off.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not a lot of things he would outright say no to. Obviously, though, no threesomes/involving other people. This is a monogamous relationship with no wiggle room.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Get used to blowjobs, cause they're gonna be a big part of sexy times in the future. Really, anything that lets Brahms lay back and get pampered is something he'll like. It would take a lot of convincing and trust to get him to remove the mask in order to reciprocate though, and it may be that he'd never do it. He would want to, and maybe that frustration will encourage him to give in, but he would never risk showing his face to you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Brahms relies a lot on instinct, so left to his own devices he's rushed, desperately trying to cum and doing whatever he can to get there. You'll have to slow him down and make him take his time, which he won't always want to do. When that happens, just let him have his way and once he's got what he wants, he'll do his part to take care of you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He really prefers drawn out, long sessions, but realistically you'll get more quickies just because he's a needy garbage boy who doesn't wanna wait for his rewards.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

There isn't much risk to take with Brahms, in terms of getting caught together. You're alone in a giant house and he's good about staying out of sight whenever someone does come around. Personal safety is another thing entirely. Mood swings are a common thing for Brahms and you have to be careful of any misstep. Something as simple as answering the phone can drive him into a tantrum and it's during these rages that he feels the need to take charge and remind you of who's really in control here.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Normally, it's quick and rough, but if you can manage to keep him focused then he can go until he loses that focus. His max times in a row is probably two - maybe three if he's angry and needs to work off that energy - simply because you gotta make time for the post sex snuggles.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Brahms would absolutely be the type to own a fleshlight, I swear to God. But I can't see him managing to sneak that onto the grocery list, so most likely he does not own anything before you show up. He would totally be into whatever you wanna bring him, though, and I think he'd enjoy something to hide under clothing or for you to wear in public secretly. He'd have a love/hate relationship with chastity devices for sure! Loves the teasing aspect, but will 100% lose his temper the first time he gets a boner and you don't immediately take it off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His teasing game is non-existent tbh, it's just gonna end up with him desperately humping your leg. He will try but your willpower is stronger than his, so he'll lose pretty quickly.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He screams at the top of his lungs until he’s out of breath. God forbid you tell him to hush, that’s only going to make him louder, just to annoy you. You would think all those years of hiding away would give him some volume control.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He will never fully believe that you wouldn’t leave if the right opportunity came up. Everything you mention that references your life before him infuriates him and only reinforces this belief. Old photos, souvenirs and mementos are some of the first things he’ll get rid of when you come to stay.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

That much fucking can’t be good for you. You tell him his dick will fall off if he keeps it up and he isn’t amused (he still doesn’t know if you were joking or not).

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time, Brahms won’t fall asleep afterwards, but he will pretend to. Once you’ve cuddled him enough, he’ll close his eyes and keep still, waiting to see what you might do without him watching. Leaving the bed is a big no-no, but if you keep close and drift off yourself, he’ll do the same (after making sure that you’re not faking too).

Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

How trusting you are. You might be the nanny, but he’s still in charge so having someone who won’t fight him and try to get away with breaking the rules is a plus.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) If you’re living with Brahms, you’ve already got a baby (it’s him, he’s the baby). He’s not going to want a child of his own, at all. It would be dangerous to even hint at this being a possibility.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You’re gonna have to get used to him hanging off of you like a monkey most of the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s got to lean down, arms around your shoulders, and shuffle along behind you awkwardly as you walk, he’s a touchy boy. It would be easier to give in and lay down with him, but then you’d never get anything done.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Does hovering ominously over you from the end of your bed while you sleep count? He’s a little torn because he has no idea what exactly a normal date would consist of locked up in the house, but he’s also seen plenty of romantic movies and they seem important to relationships. You eat dinner together, does that count as a date? The people in his movies did that. So as far as he’s concerned, you’ve had quite a few dates and it’s up to you to decide if you want to burst that bubble.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

‘You are mine.’

There’s no compromise with this, Brahms is a lifelong commitment (even if it’s only for your life). This relationship is your full time job now and there’s no room for error, cause he’s just waiting for you to mess it up.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

It would take a lot for him to realize he actually likes you beyond being his pretty nanny. He thinks he loves you immediately so it’s going to come as a shock when he figures out he was just super horny lol. Once you’ve both settled into a life together and he sees you doing things to please him because you want him to be happy, rather than because you’re afraid, it will start to shake up how he thinks of you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Most of the time he’s very gentle, but it’s more out of timidity and nervousness than anything else. He’s not used to contact with other people and he’s unsure of how to go about it. Eventually he’ll get over the nervousness, but unfortunately he’s still got no social skills so prepare for some of the most awkward cuddles you’ve ever had.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

All the time. It’s really tiring hearing that little huff every time you pull your hands away to do some task or chore. And it’s not long before one or both of them are occupied by his and you’ve got to tug them away again. He’s really got no concept of personal space.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He was interested right away, like he always is when a new nanny arrives. He followed you in the walls, trying to get a better look without giving himself away. Once he picks up on how pliable you are, willing to follow the rules and not ask questions, he knows you’re going to be staying.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

This is probably the most obvious ‘yes’. There are exactly two people allowed inside the house and you’re one of them. Anyone else is horribly unwelcome and it won’t end well. He might allow some temporary visitors once you’ve stayed with him a while (you gotta get WiFi set up ASAP before you go insane) but they’re on thin ice.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Of course, your first kiss has gotta be the goodnight kiss. There’s a creepy man living in the walls, a quick smooch is the worst he could ask from you, and he’s delighted by how quickly you accept the rules of the house. Of course he doesn’t stop at demanding bedtime kisses anymore.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Brahms will say it first, a lot, and before he really means it. He mistakes lust and want for love at first and it will take him a long time to realize that they aren’t the same. But love and trust aren’t the same thing, and when he does figure out how much he likes you it’s only going to make him more possessive and overbearing. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The first time you invited him in to sleep in your bed. Of course it wasn’t the first time he’d slept there, he would always sneak in or slip past you before you could close the door, and good luck getting him off the bed once he’s in. Eventually you give up trying to keep him out and automatically assume that’s where he’s spending the night when it comes time to tuck him in.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Technically, he’s super fucking loaded. He could crawl out of those walls and buy you a gold plated yacht. But you’re here to spoil him, not the other way around, and you best believe he expects it too. Not with money, but virtually everything else. He wants your attention, time, love - anything you might have to give and more.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Grey, like the skies outside. He sees the way you look at the windows, the look on your face when you go outside and see the stars. But he’s confident that you’ll follow the rules, because he’s made sure you know what will happen if you don’t.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He doesn’t mind you giving him pet names, he’ll probably get off on it tbh, but he doesn’t use them for you. He always uses your full first name, no shortening it, and it’s honestly sort of off putting (that’s probably why he does it).

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He has an old paint by numbers set that he’s had since before the fire. He’s filled in all the pages and used up all the paint, but he keeps them anyways. He’s copied the pictures so often that he can nearly do them without looking at the original.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

‘Outdoors’ isn’t really his thing. Rain doesn’t make a difference when you never leave the house anyways, but he’ll appreciate that any plans you may have had in town will be delayed.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

He’s naturally a loner and doesn’t want to be around anyone when he’s upset. He’ll keep away for days until finally slinking out when you least expect him. That doesn’t mean he’s not watching you, of course.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Brahms isn’t very talkative and most of your conversations are a little one-sided. Most of the time he uses the boy-voice and keeps his sentences short and simple, but if you’ve really upset him then he’ll scream and rage, one of the only times you’ll hear his natural voice.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Once you’ve fallen asleep and he can sneak off to his space in the walls. He wants to be beside you 24/7, but that brings its own stress and he can’t fully relax when every little noise wakes him, afraid you’re sneaking away.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He’s normally such a brat that when you genuinely praise him for something he’s quick to repeat it. Oh, you liked the sandwich he made you? Guess what you’re eating for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next two months. He’ll also take things you use everyday and return them like a proud dog bringing in the paper, like he wasn’t the one that hid them in the first place.

W = Wedding (When, how?)

Brahms is pretty firmly not about that life. You’re his nanny before anything else and he’s comfortable the way things are. That doesn’t meant this isn’t a serious relationship, cause he expects the same amount of loyalty and love you’d give a husband, but he isn’t going to break the facade.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Well, he’s not going to pick just one! Brahms loves music but he also likes variety. He’s got favorites of course, but there hasn’t been a lot of new material and he doesn’t want to get tired of the best ones. Do not attempt to introduce him to modern music though, he will just be offended.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Your relationship is a weird thing. You’re his girlfriend, sort of? But really his nanny. Who’s really his girlfriend. Sometimes hostage. It’s confusing, but marriage is for sure not a part of that equation. Even if it were possible, with him legally dead, it’s not something Brahms would want anyways.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

He’s not into animals at all. Besides, you’ve got him to take care of and that should be what you spend your time on.

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Such a Softer Sin (Chapter eleven)

(Chapter one)

(Chapter two)

(Chapter three)

(Chapter four)

(Chapter five)

(Chapter six)

(Chapter seven)

(Chapter eight)

(Chapter nine)

(Chapter ten)

A pretty long angst and hurt filled chapter for you lovelies. It’s super long but I couldn't find a good spot to split it into two chapters without breaking the intensity or the flow of it.

Murphy can’t control his anger and he fucked up big time. Can they come back from this?

Warnings for intense rage filled Murphy.

Also, don't kill me lolololol.

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

The boys were sat at their table in only their boxers. It was midnight now but Lila was yet to come home to get her stuff and the boys were getting anxious. She got off work an hour ago and they knew it didn't take that long to get to theirs from McGinty's. They'd both been smoking like chimneys and Murphy stood up, pacing a little as he chewed his thumb.

“What if she’s hurt or somethin’? ...Or murdered?! Christ Connor, what if she’s been fuckin’ murdered?!” Murphy practically screeched, his mind running away with him with reasons why she hadn't turned up yet. Connor looked at him incredulously for even saying such a thing out loud and he shook his head.

“Fuckin’ hell Murph! It’s more likely she just didn’t wanna see us and went te the motel without her stuff.” He replied, intending to be somewhat comforting but as he heard his own words, his blood ran cold. Murphy looked horrified at the notion she couldn't stand to even see them for long enough to get her stuff. There was also the realization that if what Connor had said was the truth, then what Murphy had suggested could have happened. The only motel around was shady as hell and it was full of criminals. They'd kill you just for your fucking shoes.

Connor stood up with the intention of getting dressed so they could go and look for her, since he was now worried something had happened to her too, but the door to the loft opened. Lila walked in with Rocco in tow and the twins were relieved that not only was she safe, but that Rocco had walked her back. Rocco felt like it was the least he could do. He knew the whole thing wasn't his fault, he knew the twins shouldn't have done it in the first place and he had actually told them that a few times. But it was him that opened his big mouth and opened the huge can of worms. After the twins had left, Lila had continued to work with a face like thunder, a far cry from the smiley barmaid everyone was used to and everyone there knew something had gone down. He had graciously offered to walk her home and she gladly accepted. She hadn't walked back to the twins' place on her own before and it wasn't in the best part of Southie.

Rocco hadn't expected the girl to burst into tears halfway there. She had been mostly quiet and emotionless, but when he warily asked her if she was okay, it was like the dam broke and she started crying. He felt awkward as shit, crying girls weren’t his thing, but he made an exception for the girl. Lila was his only girl friend, and she was sweet and caring. She didn't deserve to feel so upset about this and he knew she didn't have anyone else because the only other people she trusted were the reason why she was crying in the first place. He understood why the twins did what they did, it didn't make it right, he knew they were just overprotective and incredibly jealous. But he knew it was shitty of them, and after her basically pouring her heart out to Rocco, he’d learnt that she valued honesty above all else, and that twins lying to her, keeping this from her and pulling a move like that, it cut her pretty badly. She told him how the constant rebuffs she was getting made her feel self-conscious, how she just wanted to be happy. She told him how she felt about the boys and how sad she was that they didn't just tell her, and that just fucked him off. He told those two knuckleheads to tell her and all of this could have been avoided. She felt like they had gone behind her back, because they had, and she felt like she was the butt of some kind of joke, with everyone at her place of work thinking she belonged to them when they were just friends.

Rocco tried to tell her they didn't mean to hurt her, that their stupid hearts were in the right place, but she said she needed time, and he knew it was only fair. They stopped her having fun, living her life and being happy all because they were selfish and wanted all of her attention. He hoped it would work out with them all, because despite what happened, they were really good together. Connor and Murphy had always been a package deal, and Lila had somehow managed to become a part of that now. Rocco felt almost stuck in the middle because the boys were his best friends, but at the same time, what they did was wrong and he had grown to care about Lila himself. She was one of his best friends too now and he hated seeing her so cut up about all of this.

After crying and baring her soul to the hairy man, she returned back to being mad and they made their way back. Lila was dreading seeing them again, she knew she needed some space to think and clear her head. She knew the boys, she knew deep down that they wouldn't have done it out of spite, but they still did it and it was fucked up. Like they were forcing some kind of relationship status on her she didn't even have. Stopping her from being able to even have a pleasant conversation with guys she might like as if they were her boyfriends, but they weren't. They could have just told her how they felt, it would have made her happy since she liked them, but instead, they chose not to but still tell everyone she was theirs. It made her feel almost like they didn't want her to see anyone else but they didn't like her enough to be with them officially, like she wasn’t good enough for them and that stung like a fucking bitch.

She didn't look at the twins as she breezed past them, grabbing a trash bag and starting to stuff her clothes inside of it. Rocco was stood near the door awkwardly, he had offered to walk her to the motel, he knew what types frequented the place and he wasn't happy with her going alone. He felt like the twins would be mad at him, he felt guilty for opening his big mouth. But Connor gave him a pat to the back and he relaxed, knowing they weren’t upset with him. The twins knew this was their doing. They had no one to blame but themselves. Connor stood near the table watching forlornly as she packed her stuff, he was struggling to come up with anything to make her stay. He wasn't above begging at this point, though he doubted she would listen when she was so mad at them.

“Lila lass, please don’t do this. At least wait ‘til the mornin’, t’isn’t safe this late.” Connor pleaded, sounding more than desperate. She didn't even acknowledge his words though as she continued gathering her things. She had heard him though, and she wouldn't admit it to them but she was scared. She didn't want to go to some seedy motel or go out this late, not after what happened to her father. But she was too mad to see sense and to back down.

Murphy watched and with each item she put in her bag, his anger increased. He often found his negative emotions too confusing or difficult to deal with, so they twisted into anger. Because anger he could deal with. Connor started to feel it, like an impending sense of doom as Murphy's temper started to flare up and rear its ugly head, and he glanced to his twin warily. Murphy's chest was heaving, his jaw clenched as he glared at the poor girl so hard Connor swore she would burst into flames. But before he could go over to him, Murphy pounced like a fucking lion. He ripped the bag from her hand so hard, she yelped and it flew across the room, the clothes scattering about like fucking confetti.

“Murph!” Connor yelled, appalled at his brother who was now backing the lass up to the wall, his chest puffed out as he pinned her with such an intense stare, she could do nothing but blink up at him. Her back hit the wall and she squinted at him defiantly.

“Connor told ye te do somethin’, so ye better damn well do it girl.” He spat at her, making her eyes widen just a fraction in shock that he had the fucking cheek to talk to her like that.

“I’m not a fucking dog asshole, I don’t take orders from anyone.” She snapped with a glare. His fists were clenched by his side and his nostrils flared as he towered over her.

“If ye think for one fuckin’ second I’m gonna let ye out the fuckin’ door at this time, ye need te get yer fuckin’ head checked woman.” He growled at her, tapping her temple to enunciate his point, making her smack his hand away with a glare. Connor was more than alarmed that he was using his menacing voice on Lila, it was enough to make a grown man shit his pants and tuck tail and run. But much to his surprise, Lila just sneered at him and gave him a little shove. It didn't move him though but now they were stood chest to chest, looking like they were about to start beating seven shades of shit out of each other and Connor didn't know how things had fucking got to this point. Rocco watched the standoff with wide eyes, he didn't know what the fuck was happening but he was scared, the energy in the loft had become incredibly dark and dangerous.

“Murphy, fuckin’ cut it out!” Connor scolded as he walked over and tried to move Murphy but he got pushed away by a firm hand, yet Murphy never wavered from glaring at the girl with fire blazing behind his blue eyes.

“And what the fuck are you gonna do Murphy? Lock me in here?” She asked sarcastically with a quirked brow, seemingly unaffected by Murphy's attempt at intimidating her, it made his nostrils flare. Connor looked between the pair worried shitless, the lass really didn't know what she was dealing with when Murphy was like this. She was playing with fire. He’d never noticed just how similar his brother and the lass were, how stubborn they were and unable to back down. Murphy had never laid his hands on a woman, and Connor didn't think he ever would. But with how he was acting, there was slight doubt creeping into his head. Murphy scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. He bumped his chest into her a little, making her back hit the wall again.

“Ye know, that sounds like a grand fuckin’ idea.” He sneered at her. He moved away and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the key. Lila knew too well this was the only key because the boys had told her as such. They never locked the door when they all left, simply because they didn't have anything of value so they saw no point. Lila watched with narrowed eyes as Murphy took the key, locking the door before sauntering over to the toilet as he gave her a grin that was anything but amused. It was dark and dangerous. He held the key above the toilet and quirked a brow at her, almost like he was challenging her, expecting her to back down and stay.

“Murph, don’t ye fuckin’ dare!” Connor warned with wide eyes.

“Come on man!” Rocco pleaded. Murphy was being fucking ridiculous and everything had gotten so out of hand. Lila laughed loudly, looking at the man incredulously. It wasn't her usual warm laugh though, if anything she was just as scary as Murphy was.

“Go on, do it.” She goaded with a smirk. She really didn't think he would, neither did Rocco. But Connor, Connor knew his brother all too well and how he was when he was angry, what lengths he would go to in order to get his own way. And as Murphy let the key go, letting it fall into the toilet with a plop, the others watched on as he flushed it. Letting the only key to the place go down the drain. Connor sighed agitated and wiped a hand over his face, turning away and tugging on his hair out of frustration at his stubborn pig-headed twin.

“That was the only fuckin’ key man, how the fuck am I supposed to get outta here now?!” Rocco asked incredulously. Murphy's eyes never left Lila but he shrugged, his face almost smug as he smirked at her like he had won.

Lila licked her lower lip and quirked a brow at him. She'd never seen this side to Murphy and deep down she knew if it wasn’t directed at her, it would most likely turn her on, because bossy angry Murphy was a sexy bastard, with his brooding eyes and wicked smile. But it was directed at her and it just made her mad.

She glanced to the window as a plan formed in her mind, she walked over to it casually as she kept her eyes on the intense glaring Murphy.

“Mhm...okay. Have you had your fun now Murphy?” She asked condescendingly as she tilted her head, making Murphy bristle at her tone like she was talking to a child. She might as well have been with how he was acting.

“You know, that wasn't the only way for me to leave.” She mused, smirking almost as she got to the window and pushed it open, intending on going down the fire escape. It was like time slowed down yet also sped up at the same time. Connor was across the room and he was the first to know what was about to happen, his twin senses tingling, but he was too far away. Murphy launched himself at Lila, grabbing her around her waist from behind and trapping her arms by her sides before she had the chance to climb out. Connor and Rocco were shouting as they ran over, Lila screaming bloody murder and so many curse words that she put Rocco to shame.

“Yer not fuckin’ leavin’ ‘til we talk about it!” Murphy yelled down her ear as she thrashed and tried to kick him to no avail, the tiny girl wasn't really any match for him and his strong arms. It was like he was immune or couldn't hear his brother and Rocco yelling at him to let her go.

“Go fuck yourself Murphy, I hope you rot in hell!” She screamed, rearing her head back, hoping to headbutt him, but Murphy anticipated the move and moved his head. Connor and Rocco watched on horrified not knowing what the fuck to do, things were just getting worse and worse and Murphy dragged her away from the window. She would bruise for sure with how tight his grip was but he wasn't thinking, he was just reacting to the overwhelming panic and fear of losing her and it had morphed into blind rage. Connor was actually shocked, completely mortified at how his brother was manhandling the poor lass, but before his brain registered to try and intervene, Rocco threw himself at Murphy.

“Fuckin’ get off her man! You're hurtin’ her!” It was brave of the man, Connor knew that, brave, but incredibly fucking stupid. But somewhere in the mess that the night had turned into, Connor felt somewhat pleased his best friend cared enough about Lila to try and help whilst he had been too busy stood in shock.

Rocco suddenly flew across the room with a resounding smack as he hit the table and it broke under his weight. Lila fell to the floor with the motion as Murphy had suddenly released her to shove Rocco away so hard the man had turned into fucking Superman for a moment. Silence descended on them all in shock, even Murphy as he realised what he had done. Rocco groaned, thankfully not injured but winded as fuck. Lila scrambled to her feet and Murphy thought she would dive out the window and take her chance to escape, yet instead, she ran over to Rocco with a frown and got on her knees as she helped him sit up.

“Jesus Rocco, are you okay?” She asked worried, forgetting about how her arms felt like they were bruising already. He nodded weakly and grimaced as he sat up.

“Just winded.” He muttered, shooting a hurt look to Murphy that made him blink at him, as if the red mist was dissipating and he realised every fucking thing he had done. Connor helped pull Rocco to his feet and the look he gave his twin was more menacing than anything Murphy had ever given to anyone. It took a lot to get that look from Connor, always the more controlled of the pair. And he knew it wasn't just what he'd done to Rocco that had earned him that look.

He was too absorbed in the overwhelming guilt that he hadn't seen the red whirlwind that was Lila storming over to him and shoving him so hard that he actually stumbled back.

“You fucking asshole! Do you just ruin everything you touch?!” She yelled at him, seething with anger. It wasn't so much what he had done to her, that she could handle, but poor Rocco hadn’t deserved any of that. Her words might as well have been a knife to the heart and his face went from angry to blind pain and hurt. She felt a pang of guilt seeing his face crumple, but he deserved the words she had said. She just hated that she had to say them to Murphy. He couldn't even bring himself to speak and he vaguely registered Connor helping Rocco to sit on the couch. Connor could see Murphy’s anger fading so he didn't think he’d try to manhandle Lila again, it was safe enough to check over his best friend. He’d heard her words and winced, he’d actually felt the stab to the heart as Murphy's heart broke all over again.

“Where is my Murphy? My sweet and caring Murphy that I fucking adore so much? Because this asshole isn't him.” She asked brokenly, tears welling in her eyes as her voice wavered. The look on her face made him take a step back, his own tears pricking the back of his eyes as he shook his head, completely mortified with himself. Her words made his heart clench so painfully that he thought it might give out completely. He wasn't stupid, he knew he had anger problems but he never thought it would come to this. He hadn't been able to contain his rage and it got the best of him. And now Lila and Rocco were suffering for it. Lila was right, he did ruin everything he touched. They just stood watching each other for a moment, neither of them seeing Connor as he walked over.

Connor felt for his brother, he really did. He felt his pain, he could fucking feel the regret. But he was pissed at him, beyond pissed even. How the fuck would they get her to stay when he’d practically roughed her up like that and hurt Rocco. Connor almost mirrored Murphy from earlier as he stalked right over, pressing his chest to his brothers, backing him up. Lila couldn't help but compare it to so some kind of animal channel documentary about animal packs and their hierarchy as she watched Murphy lower his head in submission and shrink away. She heard Connor growl, like actually physically growl, as he bumped chests with the darker haired twin and made him take a step back. Murphy was a far cry from minutes ago, looking like a lost boy as he kept his gaze on the floor. He couldn't stand to look at Connor, he didn't need to see the disappointment and anger on his face, it was bad enough feeling it so overwhelmingly.

Connor gripped his jaw roughly, making Murphy look at him with wide watery eyes.

“Ye ever do somethin’ like this again, and I’ll fuckin’ have ye, boy.” He snarled, his voice low and scarier than Murphys had been. Murphy blinked, a stray tear falling down his face as his Adam's apple bobbed. He nodded weakly, the best he could with his face in a vice grip. He knew he had fucked up and he knew Connor was putting him in his place. He fucking needed it. Lila watched the pair, eyes wide and feeling worried Connor was about to beat the holy hell out of Murphy. She didn't want that, not that he didn't deserve it, but she hated to see the twins at odds with each other. Even after everything she still cared about the pair of them. She hesitantly reached a hand out, laying it on the arm that he was using to keep Murphy in place. His eyes snapped to hers and they went from pure rage to confusion and then just soft completely. Murphy glanced to her, half wondering if she would tell Connor to do him fucking in after how he had treated her. Lila remembered what Connor had told her once, how Murphy was over emotional, quick to anger. That he couldn't deal with his emotions but his heart was always in the right place. Both twins watched her carefully but her eyes were only on Connor, she didn't want to look at Murphy right now. She had seen him cry, to bow down in submission to his brother like a beaten dog and as much of an asshole as he had been, it had made her heart ache.

She shook her head, looking at Connor almost pleading and it only served to make more tears come from Murphy, he didn't deserve her help, he didn't deserve anything off her.  Connor looked back to his brother, one last warning look before he let him go. Murphy stumbled backwards, his chest heaving as he glared at the floor. Connor waited for a moment, letting his anger subside. He wasn't like Murphy, he wasn’t rash or impulsive. He was able to snap himself out of it pretty well. The lass wanted him to lay off Murphy and he didn't actually want to hurt him anyway. He could see as clear as day Murphy hated himself in that moment. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, his hand coming to cradle the back of his head and Murphy pushed his face into Connors' shoulder and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Lila walked away, leaving them to their moment, as she sat with Rocco. Murphy cried softly, sucking in harsh breaths as he tried to calm himself.

“M’fuckin’ sorry Connor, the fucks wrong with me?” He sobbed, making Connor tighten his grip on him. He knew Murphy had not intended any of this and it broke his heart. He shushed him and let him cry it out like needed to. This was what he should have done in the first place instead of letting himself get angry instead.

Lila was fussing over Rocco, checking for injuries and he swatted her hand away playfully.

“I swear I’m fine Lila.” He huffed, looking at her. He wasn't sure how the fuck he had gotten caught in the crosshairs of this shit storm but he wouldn't take back trying to help her. He had seen Murphy angry, he'd seen him beat the living shit out of someone for insulting his brother. But this shit was beyond that, despite no punches being thrown. Because him and Lila, they were his friends, hell he was fucking in love with the girl, and to see him turn on them like this, it was something else.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Rocco.” She frowned, putting her face in her hands with a large sigh. Rocco looked at her with furrowed brows.

“The fuck for? You weren't the one that put me through the damn table.” He said incredulously, not being able to wrap his head around the fact she was blaming herself.

“But you were only here for me, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have been here.” She sat up and ran her hand through her hair. It looked more unruly than usual after the scuffle with Murphy.

“I’m glad I was here, ain’t like Connor was gonna step in, he fuckin’ choked and stood there with his jaw hittin’ the fuckin’ floor.” He scoffed, shaking his head with a frown. Lila nodded, she had wondered why Connor had not tried to help her, she hadn't been able to see him. But it seemed he had been stunned by Murphy behaviour. She guessed it said something that Murphy didn't go around fucking manhandling their friends like this usually.

She didn't know what to do. She was still upset, even more so now at Murphy, his behaviour had been more than out of line and even Connor knew that with how he seemed ready to give Murphy hell for what he had done. Yet she couldn't get Murphy's face out of her mind, how crestfallen he had looked, guilty, how he’d actually cried. She glanced over to the boys, they were on the opposite side of the apartment and couldn't hear what they were saying, but Murphy was clinging to Connor like he might drown if he didn't and she could see his body shaking, making it obvious he was crying. Connor rubbed his back and had one hand holding his brother’s head firmly, looking like he was muttering comforting words to him. Despite it all, she was glad to see Connor being there for Murphy, he clearly had some issues and she was glad he didn't have to deal with it alone.

She thought back to the fire escape, she could leave now, she doubted Murphy would try to stop her again after all this, he’d probably think she’d never come back. She was also aware that the last ladder of the fire escape was broken and it was quite a jump down. In her earlier angry state, she had been willing to take the chance of a broken ankle but now, not so much. Everything was a mess and she wasn't sure how they could come back from this. She stood up, making herself a glass of water and she noticed her hands shaking a little. She leant her back against the counter as she sipped it, watching as Rocco stood up and went over to the boys. Connor handed Murphy off to him and Murphy was practically wailing as he hugged Rocco in a vice-like grip, muttering a whole verse of apologies. Rocco just pat his back trying to comfort him. Connor looked up and his eyes met hers as she watched it all from the kitchen. His eyes looked apologetic and she felt for him. He hadn't had any part in this mess. He made no move to go over though, knowing she was probably still upset about earlier as well as Murphy's fucking lapse in sanity. When Rocco moved away from Murphy, the dark-haired twin wiped his eyes and sniffled.

The four of them stood there almost awkwardly, none of them knowing what to do or say. They couldn't really leave, the fire escape wasn't the best option and they all knew it. The air was thick with tension and Rocco did what he did best to try and clear the air, even just a little.

“Fuck man, I can’t believe you flushed the only key down the fuckin’ shitter.” He grinned, looking at Murphy. There was a brief silence before Lila burst out laughing despite herself. It was fucking ridiculous the lengths Murphy had gone to get her not to leave. Her laughter filled the apartment and it was like a warmth spreading into them all. Connor snorted and shook his head, shooting his brother a thoroughly amused look. Even Murphy huffed a laugh, letting Lilas laughter creep into his heart and blossom like a flower in the hollow cavity there.

“Shit, I need a drink.” Lila sighed, a slight smile still on her face. She walked over to the cupboard where she knew the booze was and pulled out an almost full bottle of Jamesons whiskey, walking over to Connors bed and sitting down. She set the bottle down and pulled off her boots and the twins felt relief that she wasn't about to go off in the night, even after what happened. They didn't have much hope that she would stay the next day though, but at least she would be safe for tonight. Rocco glanced to Connor and shrugged as he went and sat in front of her. Connor followed suit, sitting to her left. Murphy looked for a minute, feeling like he wouldn't be wanted there, not after what he had done. He just stood there as Lila opened the bottle and didn’t bother with a glass, taking a long pull straight from the bottle and grimacing at the burn before handing it to Connor who did the same. Lila glanced up to Murphy and the air left his lungs as their eyes locked for a moment, not knowing what she would do or say.

“You coming or what Murph?” She asked, her voice not giving anything away by how she was currently feeling. He looked at her through his lashes, still thoroughly fucking ashamed with himself, and he sat down next to Rocco in front of her. Rocco took a swig and handed him the bottle and Murphy took a big chug of it. He chewed his lip as he handed it back to Lila almost sheepishly. She took it gratefully and took another pull. It might not have been the best idea but getting drunk seemed like the only way to fucking deal with the shit show that had been the night since they were all stuck together. She really wasn't sure where she stood now or what to do with anything. So instead, she decided Mr Jameson would be her best friend for the night, at least he had a way of making her forget all of her problems. She could deal with them tomorrow.

[angermango]

[slides into inbox] wanna talk about those elementals real quick

OH BOY WOULD I !!!

so i dunno how much detail i should put out here on the get go, especially with the whole thing where i’m still unsure as to whether or not I should use them as Mortal Kombat OCs/fan interpretations of canon characters or just OCs on their own (in which case they’d be just ordinary elementals although i guess they can still be gods? :V)

Regardless they’re all supposed to be ageless immortal non-humans in human form sort of dudes who are basically the embodiments of the classical elements with so much power they’re basically deities by any other name so take your pick

Down here’s a guide to your friendly neighbourhood elementals (cut because it got LONG):

Ohona

Earth elemental/deity

Name based on a Japanese earth god named Ohonamochi (though he doesn’t really share much in common with the myths etc surrounding that guy, just the namesake)

He has control over the element of earth but also can manipulate anything under the earth so that includes metal and even minerals/gems

He’s the definition of a ‘gentle giant’ like he’s well over 7ft tall and broad like an ox but he’s the chillest and loveliest guy you’ll ever meet

Ohona’s kindness is freakin’ legendary. Even the nastiest of people would be hard pressed not to admit he’s such a nice guy they feel bad going up against him. If someone pulled a knife on him and demanded money Ohona’d fuckin give them his entire purse and then invite them for a meal and tea.

His big friendly giant thing means he’s probably classified as a pacifist, or at the very least one of those “Martial Pacifists” who doesn’t kill or use more force than necessary

His fighting style prioritises defence, the kind of Big Beefy defence trading on speed where he aims to outlast his opponents and keep his own attacking to a minimum. He’d much rather see his enemies give up than be forced to hurt them, sometimes deliberately letting them wear themselves out so he can approach and possibly talk it out with them without having to raise a hand

That said if he does ever have to attack he hits like a freaking bus on a train. He knows proper martial arts forms and everything so don’t think just because he’s a tank he doesn’t have skill or strength

He likes using his element to form shields and even armour around himself. He got the standard rock armour look down, but if the situation calls he can even scare up full metal or even diamond armour and shields

He is able to transform into a purely elemental form which is like a huge golem made of rock (like the MK Earth God). He’s even bigger and tankier in that form, but he rarely cracks it out unless it’s Serious Business and the situation calls for being huge and strong

He can also change up his elemental form if given enough time so sometimes y’all get metal golem Ohona or diamond golem Ohona stomping around. good luck if you ever go up against that.

Something of a nomad when he’s out and about in human form. He loves travelling, mostly for the hiking and scenery. I mean yeah he can teleport (usually as a small sandstorm or sometimes in a sort of ‘sink into the earth and pop out elsewhere’) but where’s the fun in that? He’s very much one with nature and his element and lives off the earth sort of thing, enjoying the great outdoors and sleeping under the stars

Brilliant gardener despite plants not being his domain, mostly owing to his naturally excellent care of the earth

Absolute animal lover and friend to everything that moves

That also includes the super freaky and dangerous animals. catch him treating a 13ft gator like a dog and getting it to roll over for belly rubs or calling one of them bird-eating giant tarantulas his hairy baby.

He’s really friendly and warm to humans he meets regardless of whether they acknowledge his power or not. He likes spending time helping them out however he can with his powers be it helping them do some gardening or fixing stuff up

He’s a talented hand in sculpting, carving, jewellery and pottery craft to name a few. He’s got a rather infamous habit of making some incredible pieces then just giving them away and fucking off, leaving people with these beautiful pieces of art which are completely anonymous and literally priceless

He always makes time to visit Hinoka and Suijin either separately or as a get-together. They’re his two best buddies and he is always happy to keep Hinoka company or keep an eye on Suijin.

Hinoka

Fire elemental/deity

His… is actually not a real deity’s name, I think i remember seeing some fan names for the unnamed MK fire god using it and liked it. sorry oddball

(ED) o I think i found the origin it’s probably from the Shinto fire kami Kagutsuchi who is sometimes known Hinokagutsuchi or Hi-no-kagutsuchi waddayaknow - he doesn’t share the same myth as Kagutsuchi tho but now we know his name isn’t completely random hey-oh

As a Fire guy he controls flame but also heat, being able to thermoregulate his body and the air around him. He can also absorb fire and heat so he’s like immune to burning too and can put out fires by standing in them.

His elemental form is of course basically a humanoid bonfire, though he’s able to not make himself wholly flammable so he can walk around indoors and around people without making everything catch alight, but his elemental form can also still burn people on contact through radiating heat. it’s elemental magic man he don’t got to explain

He’s a very capable fighter in both martial arts and also swordfighting as his weapon of choice. cause you know what’s better than a sword? A FLAMING sword. He also mixes in the classic fire-bending tricks where he can, fireballs and flamethrowers and so on.

Got a very fast and ‘keep away’ sort of fighting style where he favours AOE kinds of moves to keep people at a distance with the threat of getting barbecued or beat to hell. Expect rings of fire, explosions and sweeping fireballs sort of thing, as well as a lot of constant moving around to make it hard to pin him down.

kind of a hermit so he doesn’t actually really go out and interact with people a lot save for his fellow elementals. and even then he’s pretty quiet and shy and it takes a lot to coax him out of his shell

If you do manage to get through to him he’s quite a nice guy. perhaps still not the most talkative, but he’s not going to be rude or anything

He has a thing where if he gets startled or embarrassed he sometimes accidentally lights himself on fire and Shenanigans Ensue. It’s often a bit of a chain reaction because say you surprise him and he flares up, and then he gets embarrassed for flaring up, then he gets embarrassed that he can’t stop flaring up etc.

The reason for his reclusiveness is pretty sad actually. He’s cripplingly afraid of hurting people with his powers because he knows he can deal some serious damage with them. That’s the thing with fire, it doesn’t need a lot to get going and can spread very quickly. But because he isolates himself and stews in his fear he doesn’t have much control when he is around people and loses control when he’s stressed and then continues to fear being around people…

And the reason why this fear started is even sadder. A very, very long time ago, Hinoka once lost control of his powers in a blind rage and made a desert. A really, really big desert. Out of land which was once fertile and thriving. And inhabited. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for it and it’s really not a good idea to bring it up.

Because of what happened, that’s why he only hangs out around the other two elementals and any other immortals, because he knows he can’t hurt them that badly if something ever went wrong.

He tends to retreat to extremely remote regions and in very basic conditions, like a cabin or even a small cave, far from civilisation.

He prefers temperate to hot climates but like even if he was in the Arctic he is always warm himself so it’s not a big deal.

He spends most of his free time meditating and practicing forms in an attempt to de-stress and get some control over his powers. He also reads sometimes (though he fears for his books) and has gotten fairly good at cooking as a past time (even though he doesn’t quite need to eat like a human).

Speaking of his food the other two elementals always like dropping by to keep him company over a meal or to share new recipes/try his new recipes. Always an evening well spent.

Despite popular beliefs and stereotypes, he doesn’t like spicy food. Too much spice will hurt and then he’ll become stressed and because he’s stressed his fire aura will flare up and so yeah he doesn’t do spice.

Suijin

Water elemental/deity

Named after Shinto water kami of the same name

To put it bluntly Suijin’s like. a massive jerk.

Of all the elementals Suijin is the one with the lowest opinion of humans/mortals.

His reason is because he mostly spends more time in the sea and not integrating with humans.

And also because humans keep dumping their crap in the oceans and he’s left choking in it and clearing it all up so STOP DOING THAT YOU OIL PISSING FUCKMONKEYS

oh yeah he’s got an atomic temper and a vocabulary to match. being immortal just means he’s had more time to pick up some fantastic new curses to try out.

speaking of his temper he’s seriously got waayyyy to small a fuse and he’s so extremely hot-blooded there’s no in betweens when it comes to chill or no chill. one moment you could be talking about ice cream the next he’s chokeslamming you because you put sprinkles on it.

fun fact when he gets mad he often literally steams with anger

He also puts zero effort into his appearance when around mortals, his robes always looking scruffy and half-undone. see if he gives a shit what you think.

He prefers being in his elemental form most of the time, which is just a human-shaped mass of water. In this form he can melt into bodies of water and travel as a puddle, letting him go pretty much anywhere he likes. However he’s also vulnerable to extreme heat or cold in this form since it will dry him out or freeze him solid

His control of the element of water means he’s also technically got power over all water in all its forms including vapour e.g. steam and clouds. He’s also not limited to the water which is immediately around since he can call up water from any source or even move some clouds over for a top up. He could even create water on the spot from the air or dump a tidal wave on your doorstep even if you live inland. don’t try him. He’s also picked up some ice tricks, which also helps make him less vulnerable to being frozen

True to his personality and element he’s got a very aggressive and fluid fighting style that attacks on all sides and constantly moves and changes to take everyone by surprise. One minute he’s in your face with his fists the next he’s using Hydro Pump from a distance and then stabbing you from behind with his spear and calling you a bitch.

Okay so i said he’s a jerk and he is, but he’s also kind of a ‘jerk with a heart of gold’ guy in a way. For all his temper and foul mouth he can be decent to people when it matters. He’s still a surly grouch even around friends but he makes the effort not to be needlessly cruel and if his yelling and cursing genuinely upsets anyone he’ll dial it back and even apologise if he overstepped.

He’s also very loyal to those he is actually friends with. He may be a little intense about it, but he’s super ride-or-die and will tear anyone who threatens, upsets or insults his friends a new one. And he might not be the best with his words, but he would want what’s best for his friends and won’t hesitate to speak his mind with advice or criticism in their best interests.

He mostly keeps the company of the other elementals and non-mortals, though whenever he does make contact with humans who haven’t ticked him off it’s by the sea since he rarely roams far from his element.

Believe it or not, he and Hinoka are best friends. Hinoka is like Suijin’s one soft spot who he’ll move heaven and earth to keep happy and safe.

When Suijin is around Hinoka he basically does a 180 and becomes super considerate and careful around him. He won’t raise his voice and minds his manners, though he knows Hinoka doesn’t mind him grumbling and cursing a bit and it’s more he will be more mindful not to sound all negative and get loud and mean around Hinoka because he knows Hinoka doesn’t like it.

He knows about why Hinoka is so afraid of going outside and has been doing his best to support him ever since the incident. He visits often to check in on him and keep him company. He also knows Hinoka feels safer with him around because he is the only person Hinoka can’t actually hurt with his fire powers (as in Suijin can’t even get burned where Ohona can still) and Suijin can always put out fires quickly.

Hinoka is also Suijin’s biggest berserk button. Don’t ever insult let alone hurt Hinoka in front of him or Suijin will actually tear you in half.

He’s also just as close to Ohona despite not seeming it at first glance. He often seems like he just gripes a lot to Ohona but he genuinely appreciates Ohona’s consideration and patience around him and being a loyal friend. Suijin will just as easily jump in to defend and fight for Ohona too like he does Hinoka, but less often since he knows Ohona can handle himself and barely has problems.

[storybookhawke]

okay so i know youre 150% anders but.. will you talk or list or whatever some varric romance things. im starved for content and i love all the things you post (plus i saw in the tags that you wish you could romance him) :D

FUCKIN GLADLY!!!!!!! I actually started creating a Hawke who romanced Varric (clearly not possible to do in-game with mods, but you feel me :D). I actually hc Varric as aro/ace most of the time, but I can’t resist having a few other hcs that include a romance with him. :)

Things I love about Varric:

CARING: One of the most caring characters in all of Dragon Age. He uses his own money to keep Merrill safe when she’s cuts through shady alleyways, he ensures Anders is safe and unbothered by gangs, makes up wonderful and suitable nickname and only uses them in fondness, he often tries cheering up his friends with jokes.

GENEROUS: As a merchant investor and a popular author, Varric thankfully has money to fling around to help his friends and people. He’s such a smart business man but an even more clever writer. The reason he’s able to be such a successful writer is that he also does business on the side. Compared to all of Hawke’s other dirt-poor or squatting friends, it’s kind of refreshing to have a character who can help financially.

VOICE: He’s got such a deep and rough and warm voice. Hearing him talk is like standing next to a crackling fire while it storms outside–so comforting.

BODY: Hottest dwarf to grace Thedas in many generations. He’s so fucking muscular, he’s a solid brick house. I’m sure he gives the BEST HUGS despite only being able to hug Varric over the course of two games when you KILL HAWKE.

CHEST HAIR: Chest hair.

BIANCA: No, not the girl. I love that he refuses to use any other weapon. And since Bianca is the only one of her kind, I’m certain he must do his own modifications because otherwise people would find out the secret of how she’s made and having an army of repeat-firing crossbows would end in a massacre. He’s honestly saving lives by keeping the crossbow a well guarded secret. Also, he wrote a song about the history of Bianca and hums it. How cute!

Lastly, he’s a goddamn romantic. You could even h/c him as aro/ace and he’d still be the biggest goddamn romantic because that’s just how his heart sings. He wants his friends to be happy, to be in love, to find what makes them happiest in life. He strives to help them along, even if they’re idiots about it. He doesn’t just write romances because they sell, he writes them because sometimes you just gotta see people happy together.

Things that would have made a DA2 romance with him GREAT:

He’d write the best love letters and poems. He always says his romance series are garbage, but we see the most fans of those so they must be good. Imagine Varric and Hawke lounging in his nice big bed at the Hanged Man, reading Varric’s newest love poem. Or Varric writing Hawke letters while at Skyhold, when Hawke is out doing Hawkey things.

Varric’s scene after Leandra’s death would include inviting Hawke out, to the Hanged Man, to his rooms (anywhere but the now dreary, empty mansion, Varric thinks to himself). Varric is a social man, if a private person, and sometimes spending time with friends is the best medicine. If Hawke said no, Varric would stay with them for as long as they wished.

Though Varric sides with Hawke no matter what, the devotion would be even more steadfast and romantic.

I like to also imagine a Lady Hawke (or both) wearing Varric’s red shirt, and only his red shirt. You know, in the mornings. (Hawke-Varric Shirt Mod!!!)

He miiiiight just tell the actual, true story about Bianca (the weapon) to Hawke, after sworn secrecy. It would be a magical moment, just to know something about Varric that he hides behind secrets and jokes. How enjoyable would it be for Hawke to watch other people ask Varric about the crossbow and to smile, knowing they’re the only one who knows.

Concept: Not only did Varric see Hawke and be like “Yeah, they’ve got incredible skills and would be useful to have on the expedition,” but also extends the invitation to join the expedition as a partner because Varric has a big ol’ crush on Hawke.

Additional possible concept: Varric would spoil the shit out of Hawke. Not even with expensive things but just like, time together and fine wine and meals. Varric always gives off good sugar-daddy vibes to me, and he’d be a loving doting boyfriend.

Varric perhaps writing an alternate version of The Tale of the Champion, one where their relationship is real and accurate and not made up for the sake of literature. Of course, only he and Hawke would have that version.

Things that would have made a DAI romance with him GREAT:

Varric is such a supportive person in DAI, that to any inquisitor who is uncertain about things, about the position they hold, they would easily just go find Varric and talk with him. He’s got such a good listening ear and would do such a good job making the inquisitor less nervous.

He’s so so upset by Hawke’s death that the Inquisitor would have comforted him, and been sensitive to his feelings. Perhaps even held a memorial for Hawke, for Varric’s sake.

The Inquisitor might not have read his books, so they send out for copies and read them just to understand Varric a little better, and to support him in something he’s so passionate about.

Imagine the awkwardness of meeting the real Bianca while romancing Varric. As an inquisitor, I know I would have asked many questions, but quietly and privately. Not pushing Varric to tell the story, not making him feel like he owes any explanation to his past.

Varric, the (temp) Viscount of Kirkwall, and the goddamn Inquisitor. Power couple.

Also can you imagine: dwarf x Varric or hell, QUNARI X VARRIC. Varric is big spoon no matter the size of his partner. Good, night-long hugs from such a warm and hairy bear man.