#but i think i had at least half a dream about it last night lmao

[captainkaithr]

OK so I'm still stuck in the flat today so what if - now hear me out here - what if I just watched more of the untamed?

You're not sick of this yet, right?

[gilverrwrites]

Something cute and smutty with either Tim Drake or Roy ?

AND: What about a one bed trope for Tim pls??

Dream a little dream of me

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.8K AN: I don't know if theres such a phrases as 'porn first, questions later' but thats what this is lmao. I'm glad theres an audience for Tim, cause as much as I love the other Robins (wink wink Dick), as a bisexual 90s kid, Tim really is my Robin, ya know? CWs: Somnophilia (but not really), dry humping, intercrural sex/thigh job, hand job, Petnames: Baby, sweetheart Tropes: One bed, friends to lovers, porn with feelings. GN!Reader

Sleeping beside you is neither new nor unusual for Tim. You’d been close friends for years, he’d crashed in your bed after many a patrol, you’d had film or study nights at the manor which always ended with you hogging his bed sheets, and in more recent years you’d huddled together on the cramped mattress he called a bed in the lower deck of his boat on multiple occasions. It had always been so natural and innocent, so why was this hotel bed any different? Well, because his budding, inappropriate crush on you had grown in the time since you’d last shared a comforter; Tim had been having not-so-innocent dreams about you.

Dreams where he got to touch, tease, and taste every inch of your exposed skin until you’re a babbling, pleading mess. Dreams where he silenced your breathy cries and begs by telling you to “be good baby”, spreading your legs, and running the tip of his cock along your entrance. Where you look at him with those big, dreamy eyes of yours right up until it’s too much, until he’s bottomed out inside of you and you can’t help but throw your head back, calling out his name as you dig your nails into his back.

“That feels... so… good.” The sound of your voice calls out to him, but your dream self is in no position to be speaking so coherently.

Wait, dream?

His mind is fuzzy as he wakes, still heavy with sleep, part of his brain tries desperately to clutch onto the fleeting imagery in his head until he realises two very important things;  

1. Your body is pressed against his. You’re turned away from him, but he can still feel your warmth, the pressure of your back to his chest, your ass to his… crotch. 2. His ‘crotch’ is rock hard.

Despite all instinct telling him to immediately pull away, he waits. Concerned his sudden movement might cause you to stir, he slows himself. Forcing his body to hold back so he can remove himself in increments. Just a little bit, and then a bit more, and more? He swears he’s doing it, swears he’s at least half a foot away from where he’d been upon waking, but you’re still pushing against him, still rolling your hips.

“Tim~”

It’s at this moment Tim has a third, pivotal realisation.

3. You’re grinding on him.

The sound of Tim’s low voice whispering your name against the shell of your ear slowly coaxs you awake. Every warm breath against your skin sends a rush of heat to your already aching sex. You’d been having such a peaceful, steamy dream in which your best friend, and secret crush; Tim had been tenderly rocking his cock into you from behind. As you take in the hotel room and the hotness of Tim’s body spooning into you, you can’t tell if you’re awake or still dreaming.

“Can you feel that?” His hushed voice pierces the quietness of the room and you’re not sure what he’s talking about until he surges forward, further pressing the hardness of his clothes cock into the curve of your ass.

“Yes.” You murmur, only intending to answer his question but your sleeply lust-ridden psyche keeps talking. “Don’t stop, I like it.”

“Yeah?” He’s so grateful you’re not looking at him in that moment, otherwise, you’d see the undeniable redness currently rushing to his cheeks. Even in the dark of the night, he’s sure it’s glowing through. “I think we’ve been humping each other in our sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” The fear of his rejection is immediately thrown out when you feel his lips on your pulse point, but you have to ask anyway. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, god no.” He trails soft kisses along the side of your neck, each one growing sloppier until he finds and fixates on your jaw for far too short a time. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasised about this. About you. I want you so bad.”

“I want you too, Tim.” A million and one thoughts run through his head in that moment. How much time had the two of you wasted skirting around the subject? What does this mean for your future and your friendship? The only thing he doesn’t think of as he absent-mindedly ruts against you is the one you ask. “Do you have any protection?”

“I have my Red Robin suit in my case.” It’s a dumb joke he can’t help but make, you laugh anyway and he thinks he might love you for it.

“No, but that’s okay. We can make this work.” You hear the snap of your waistband hitting your hip before you feel it. Tim had playfully pulled it taught before letting go to pull down his boxers. Getting the point, you take his cue, shimmying out of your own underwear just in time for Tim to reattach himself to your back and press his open mouth to your shoulder. “Spread your legs baby.”

As you do, Tim slides his cock between them. You wish you’d turned the light on so you could get a better look, but no force on earth could pry you away from him now. Understanding his plan, you don’t wait to be told to close your legs again, engulfing his length with the soft skin of your inner thighs and slowly beginning to rock your hips.

Tim reached over your body, grazing his deft fingers around your waist and across your stomach. A whine escapes your lips as he dips lower to rub along the length of your arousal, his cock twitches between your legs. Knowing it's so close makes you feel empty, makes you ache to feel him deep inside you, makes the tension in your core coil even more.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dripping.” He can hear the wonderment in his own voice as he glides his thumb around you. In response you clench your thighs even harder around his cock, making him groan into your neck.

It isn’t long before your grinding hard and fast around his dick, gripping his arm as you get lost in the moment. The combined sensations feels so good, and you can’t get enough.

Neither can Tim. He could never have dreamed that the reality would feel so good. He’s in awe of the way your body moves, of the pornographic noises you’re making for him. He can barely focus. He wants to hold on longer, wants to bask in your warmth and scent for as long as possible but your merciless rhythm and the feel of your thighs around his throbbing cock has him chasing his climax way too soon.

“Are you close?” He sputters. You answer with a string of incomprehensible whimpers and a weak nod. He isn’t even in you, and you’re already drunk on your best friend. You’d be ashamed if you had the capacity to care in that moment. “Come with me?”

It’s a question, not a command. This is a partnership, he wants you to feel connected, not controlled and that has your toes curling.

Simultaneously your thrusting becomes strained, and more erratic as his pumping grows faster, and sloppier, both of you getting lost in your highs but still determined to ride out the other, filling the room with deep, ragged breaths until you’re shuddering in his arms, savouring every last remnants of pleasure. The way his strong hands cup your body has you feeling safe in your post-orgasm euphoria.

It isn’t until you feel the moisture of your combined cum seeping into the fabric below you that you remember there’s a world outside of you and him. You sit up simultaneously, Tim reaches for the bedside lamp and is stunned by the sight of your sweat-sheened skin and heavy eyes when he turns back. Completely unaware that you’re thinking the same thing about his flushed cheeks and fluffy bedhead.

You gesture to the puddle you’re currently half-sat in and joke; “The hotel cleaners are going to hate us.”

Before you can exit the bed, Tim is on his feet and rushing to the ensuite. He returns a moment later with a roll of tissues and a damp cloth. You’ve rolled over, face down on his side of the bed in an attempt not to spread the fluids even more and he gets to work wiping the cum from your leg in slow, circular motions. It shouldn’t take this long, you both know it, he’s just enjoying the moment.

“That was really…” You’d wanted to fill the silence, but now you’re not sure how to finish, you don’t want to scare him away with your excitement, but you want him to know how good he made you feel. “Really wow.”

“Really wow.” He repeats with a teasing snicker, dodging when you reach out to playfully smack his shoulder. “What? What? It was wow.”

He’s teasing. With a 147 IQ, he knows a better word than wow, but he’s choosing to repeat yours, tone and all. It’s not like he hasn’t messed with you before, and you’ve always been able to dish it back, but now feels different. Now is different.

“So, I take it we’re not just friends anymore?” You ask as he climbs over you to work on the wet patch. Eventually, he finds a position kneeling at the bottom of the bed, and you roll over once more, now seated and positioned to watch him.

“Um, no.” He coughs, not to clear his throat but to prolong his time to think of an answer. Your gaze is making him nervous. He doesn’t know what you want him to say, doesn’t want to come on too strong and ruin your friendship, but he also doesn’t want to seem too lax, to make you think he’s just using you or that he’s not interested in something more than friendship. “Friends definitely don’t do that.”

“So, what are we?” You push, not missing the way his adams-apple bobs as he swallows back his nerves.

“I don’t know.” His chest immediately grows tight at the hurt look that spreads across your face. Fuck it, now or never. “But whatever we are, I’m yours.”

Your expression doesn’t immediately change, and he worries he’s misread your reaction. Assumed that you want him the way he wants you.

“If you want me that is.” He continues, trying to save face.

“Of course, I want you, Tim.” He hadn’t realised how tense the conversation was making him until he heard those magic words. In seconds you’re face to face with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to offer your body as comfort. You’ve always been able to read and react to him so well, like you were programmed for him. “You can be mine, if I can be yours.”

Then he feels your lips pucker against his hairline, and despite having climaxed between your legs only minutes earlier, he’s suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been. Gently, you drag your lips down his face, leaving kisses along his brow line, his cheekbones, and his jowls until you're inches from his own lips.

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes and his mouth, he licks his lips in preparation for yours and then you’re on him, lips locked, tangled in each other’s arms.

There’s a drying stain waiting to be cleaned, and a long day ahead of you both tomorrow, but right now none of that matters.

[niichanism]

another throwaway-ish acesabo fic i might finish eventually maybe not. the logic and characterization started bugging me but also this ain't about that. i wanted to write alpha sabo wearing a muzzle while rejection-sensitive omega ace is extremely pissed to be denied kissies

Me in 2014, unenlightened: omegaverse is just a cheap tactic to make stoic blorbos pathetic Me now: I think ace one piece should experience PMS 

set ambiguously after marineford but ace lives + nothing huge is going on with the RA

TW: omegaverse, pre-heat pms??? lmao, this one actually isn't that spicy it's just silly summary: ace: what if you helped me with my heat. hahaahaha jk. unless sabo: (malfunctions)

“Another meeting?”

Even Ace is surprised at the sharpness in his voice. It's been jumping out of him these last few weeks. He wants to swallow it back down, this twitchiness, but as Sabo turns his good eye back to him, he tries laughing it off instead.

“Yep.” His brother shrugs, smiling. “Duty calls.” “Hmm.”

Ace had his responsibilities as second division commander, but they so rarely involved paperwork. Everything was hands-on, on the go. Meetings were like rallies or even parties more often than not.

He misses it a lot. It feels wrong to sail under any other flag. But Pops was good at protecting people, and that's something Ace can do. Besides, Sabo is here. Sabo, who still has a way of keeping Ace relatively sane– up until recently, at least. There’s a moment where Sabo catches his withered expression, but neither of them say anything. 

Ace falls back on teasing, hand on hip. “I’m just wondering if you ever get to have any fun is all.” “I have plenty of fun, Ace,” Sabo huffs, “especially when you’re around.” “Oh, yeah?” Ace is fairly sure— Sabo must be thinking of the fun they had a few weeks ago.

They’d saved a coastal town from some shitty pirates, which was already a good time in itself. They went to the tavern to drink– the place had good stuff, on the house for good deeds– went back to a good room– it’s actually pretty foggy from there. The emotions remain more than the specifics.

But he remembers riding Sabo stupid. Lighting the lamps so he could see when the sky went dark. And how pretty he looked, panting, his golden hair haloed on the bed. His bruising grip on Ace’s thighs. The sensation of his cock swelling like he could knot Ace outside of a mating cycle. He remembers Sabo’s face, lost in pleasure– growling, even– eyes scrunched tight, the flash of his white fangs in his open mouth.

He remembers thinking that it was so good. In the morning, though, Sabo was gone. He’d left a note on the nearest surface, in a rough scrawl: gone on mission

S

The total lack of specifics was somehow just like him, so Ace had huffed and climbed back into bed. Half-conscious, he’d searched the sheets for the elusive scent so often trapped beneath Sabo’s stuffy, high-necked outfits. And he tried to pull together soft little shreds of memory from the previous night. He hadn’t meant to ruminate. Just to check. Because no matter how he turned it over in his head, it all still seemed like a dream. And if it had happened, should it have happened at all? They never talked about it. Busy, busy days in the Revolutionary Army. Normal, normal brothers who were still learning each other a year after meeting again. Maybe Ace had made a mistake. All those vivid images were  tiny embers that refused to die– for weeks now, he was plagued with curiosity. Then shame. 

When they first met again, Sabo hadn’t reacted to his second sex beyond a small, almost comical lift of his brows. Ace had been equally cool about it on the outside, and he held himself to that, but the fact that Sabo was an unclaimed alpha had gotten under his skin.

If he was going to be honest with himself, it was posing a real fucking issue. 

Ace had always been on the more impulsive side, but he really thought he smoothed that out– if not in terms of danger, then at least when it came to getting along with people.

Of all people, Sabo should test him the least. 

And it sucks because he doesn’t, really. He and Ace still get on well. Better than well. What he's testing are Ace’s instincts.  Ace had always been able to ignore them in the past, so their constant pounding in his head had surprising power and he ended up blurting out stupid shit like never before. He hadn't even been that clingy when they were kids. He knew and yet the antsy energy remained, dunking his moods and driving him crazy.

“That’s a relief,” Ace says, throwing him his utmost charming, normal smile. Sabo doesn't seem to take it at face value– figures– but past the semi-concerned twitch of his brow, he manages not to fuss over it for about three seconds. 

“I’m glad, too. Are you… is everything good?”

“Everything's good,” Ace assures, a little too quick. The last thing he wants is Sabo looking at him like that.  “Go on, don't be late,” he urges good-naturedly, sending him off with a lazy wave. “You just let me know if you need any countries set on fire or anything, yeah?”

Sabo looks like he wants to ask something else, but they have another half-conscious second of conversation with their eyes. Sabo’s face crinkles slowly into a smile, and he leaves, taking part of Ace's peace of mind along with him. 

*

A week later, Ace visits Sabo in his room. “G’morning,” he yawns, hand on the doorframe. Sabo looks up from his desk– coffee in one hand, paper in the other.

“Ace. Good morning. Where have you been?” Sabo asks, casual enough. 

Ace closes the door behind him and leans against it, nearly clenching his teeth against the nerves in his gut. “Sphinx,” he replies cheerfully. “To visit Pops and Marco.”

Sabo turns away to set his newspaper down. “I see. How's Marco doing?”

“Good,” Ace replies. “He’s on top of things as usual. I just help out here ‘n there.”

The revolution lets him come and go as long as he's smart about it. Well, Sabo lets him come and go. Most of the world still thinks Portgas D. Ace is dead, and the RA thinks he should keep it that way until it's the right moment for a blaze of glory. 

No way that's happening until Ace gets his head screwed on straight again. But it's different when he has to be an omega about it. Show up at Marco’s door like a twitchy stray to ask what the hell his body is doing and how to make it stop. He's got a mind that’s too fond of bad ideas, but this sleep with Sabo or else one is throwing him for a loop. 

First of all, stop taking suppressants, Marco had said, way too coolly. You haven't had a mating cycle in– two years now?

Can't I just sleep with people and get it out that way?

Sorry, Ace. You have to pass a heat. 

Ace had gone quiet then, stomach dropping through the displeasure of it. 

You know, there's ways of making it easier, finding a safe partner…

No, I can handle it. I mean, I'll figure it out. Marco. Thank you.

So there it was. He'd tried to take a vacation from his unreasonable instincts only to find out they had to be confronted.

When he looked at his options, his brain became scrambled eggs. The anger in his heart demanded consolation and so he ended up right at Sabo’s door. 

“Want some?” Sabo asks.

It refreshes his attention, and Ace’s eyes fall upon the mug in Sabo’s elegantly gloved hand. That other kind of hunger stokes cinders inside of him. “Nah. Coffee's gross.”

Sabo smiles against the rim of the cup. “Useful, though.”

“How about we get some food in you down at the mess hall, too?”

Sabo raises his eyebrows. “Wouldn't turn that down. Give me a second.”

Ace glances around while the desk gets organized. “I also wanted to ask a favor.”

Sabo pauses where he's just stood up, and looks over, a little too keen for Ace’s liking. “Yeah?”

“See, I was wondering if I could…” he starts– then shakes his head, laughing at himself. He didn't learn to be polite for Sabo. He comes closer and clasps his hand firmly on Sabo’s shoulder, ignoring the low screech of desire that comes with it. “No, let me start over. Will ya lend me some of your clothes?”

He can't help the light pink flush on his own cheeks, but he's genuinely pleased at how Sabo’s face changes. 

He does the eyebrow lift thing, and his hazel-eyed stare becomes that much more sharp, like this simple question does what the coffee couldn't. Ace likes that he doesn’t look away. But then, he's also at a loss for words, unspoken or otherwise. If they'd never been separated, if Ace wasn't a tough guy and Sabo wasn't a child soldier, this would be an easy script to follow. 

Sabo glances down as if he has to examine what he's already got on. Those tough, tan pants that fall just right and the flouncy undershirt and fitted vest; Ace is vaguely amazed at how well put together he looks when the sun’s not even past the rocky horizon of Baltigo outside. 

“Lend you my clothes?” he repeats. “Here I thought you had such a problem with them.”

Well, yeah, they make Sabo look snooty as fuck and they seem as freeing as a straitjacket, but–

“I do, but nesting’s not about fashion, it's about scents.”

“Oh… that's what you mean?”

Now why is Sabo so alarmed, blushing like a village maiden?

“What?” Ace asks, pinning him with an edgy, somewhat challenging look. He crosses his arms, since Sabo looks like he wants to sink into the floorboards. “Why are you so surprised? Did you think I don't nest?”

“Well, no–”

“I nested even when we were kids. It was like the one normal thing I did.”

Sabo laughs haltingly. “I remember. It's just that you insisted it was for Luffy’s sake–”

“Yeah, we thought it might make him less whiny,” Ace reminds him. What a puzzle that had been. Pups raising pups– that Luffy turned out half-decent was a fucking miracle, and maybe Sabo had more of a hand in it than he did. The angel on his shoulder had a lot more sway when it spoke with Sabo’s voice. Makino had loved the idea of their nesting with the clothes she brought, though. Everyone loved Makino, so if she thought it was a good idea, Ace had figured it was. “I guess I just got in the habit, man. You don’t actually have to give me anything, don’t worry about it.” Bless his heart, Sabo doesn’t let this awful feeling in Ace’s stomach take root.

 “What? No, Ace, I didn’t say you couldn’t have any,” he says quickly, eyes as wide as a skittish woodland creature’s. “Please take something. It just surprised me. Nobody’s ever asked me before.” Ace sits with that for a few seconds. He shouldn’t feel happy that Sabo was deprived of meaningful pack bonds. But he feels light as air knowing that he’s Sabo’s first here, too. “Okay,” he says, grinning. When he catches sight of Sabo’s awkward, half-grimacing expression in turn, he snickers. “Could’ve just stolen some of your clothes to save us the awkward little chat, huh? You have so many, you wouldn’t have even noticed.” Sabo rubs his face between thumb and fingers, flustered. Another stilted laugh bubbles out of him. “No, I mean, sure, if you need something from me, you can have it,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Ace’s smile softens, but it feels like a supernova, a victory. He’s having trouble stripping his eyes away from Sabo, the genuine pleasure on his rosy face. “But I’m glad you asked.” Ace bites the inside of his cheek because he feels like he’s about to start purring and Sabo hasn’t even given him anything yet, hasn’t even touched him. He’s out of joint for sure. “No big deal. Used to nest with Luffy’s clothes, too,” Ace tells him. He wrinkles his nose. “He smells like meat and dirt, though.”

Sabo relaxes. “You love meat and dirt.” “I do,” Ace laughs. “Yeah, Lu smells weird as fuck and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ll take your gift too. Much appreciated.” And now that he’s got his consolation prize, Ace yearns to get the fuck out of there. Even if he’s curious about fucking Sabo again– just to check– his upcoming heat is something else. It’s going to be beyond terrible, so much so that he already feels like a sweaty human fireball when it comes to mind, and he honestly doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a reason he hasn’t stopped downing suppressants for two years. Sabo’s clothes and memories of nesting in their treehouse will have to do to ease his fraying nerves. Ace has been through worse, so he should be stronger. He should be stronger. He should pass his heat and then, if possible, have sex with Sabo once more just to get this heavy, cloying attraction out of his system– Ace claps his hands together. “That’s settled, then. Breakfast?”

He needs to do something with his body that isn’t standing here and taking in everything that makes Sabo Sabo. But his brother doesn’t budge or even glance at the door. “When do you need them by?”

 “Hm?” “I mean…” Sabo looks to the wall and back. “It’s soon, right? You stopped taking your suppressants.” Ace frowns, and twists his head over to sniff. “Damn, do I smell rank?” “No, no, you’re fine I think, as long as you don’t go anywhere too cramped or hot…” Sabo’s nose twitches; his mouth thins. “Are you going anywhere?” Ace’s eyebrows jump at the sudden steeliness in his voice. He fixes Sabo with a look on the border of teasing and genuine annoyance. “Sabo, have you never been around an omega or something?” “I have,” Sabo says, somewhat irritably. “Just… older ones, or… subordinates…” “Subordinates,” Ace repeats, teasing. “Well, it’s an army here, Ace, not exactly a family,” Sabo sighs, idly massaging one gloved hand with the other. “But now my brother is about to go through a cycle, so shouldn’t I make sure everything is fine? Are you going back to Sphinx for your heat?”

“Kinda thought I’d just stay here and bolt the door.” Sabo studies his face for a few seconds, then relents, throat bobbing. “Okay. Are you going to need… anything else?” “Well,” Ace starts. He puts his hands on his hips, rocks on his feet. “What’re you offering, Sabo?” Sabo swallows again. Ace almost hears it. Shit, it makes him want to pounce. “Oh.” He shows all his teeth. “I’m low maintenance, promise.” Sabo shakes his head, his smile completely lost on his face. Ace’s head gets foggy and hot and his mouth just starts moving.

“T’ tell the truth,” he admits, “it’s… gonna be a tough one to ride out since I haven’t had one for two years– that’s what Marco said. But it’s short notice, don’t really wanna go through the trouble of finding someone I can trust.” Despite knowing how terrible the heat is going to be– and it’s always worse than imagined– he can hardly think of anything that motivates him less than finding a viable partner out of the blue. The thought has worked like a boomerang, just bringing him memories of Sabo’s hands, arms, lips. Something tells him he shouldn’t trouble his brother with his cycle like this. Something else tells him that nothing in the world would be better. Like Sabo his brother and Sabo an alpha could be different things– and they’re not; Sabo is Sabo. 

Ace the brother and Ace the omega are different things, though, and by the four fucking seas, he should know to keep it that way.  “Are you serious?” Sabo asks. Again with the eyebrows raised way up, his stare both hawkish and disbelieving. Ace’s heart beats like a drum. This is a gamble, he knows. But he’d regret anything less. “Dead serious,” he drawls. Go big or go home, and he’s fearless. He understands very well that he can’t always get his way. Can’t make people want him. He gets that. They do or they don’t. It seemed like Sabo did that first time. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a world where Sabo doesn’t. Kind, loyal, capable, pretty-faced Sabo…

He holds up his hands. “If you don’t wanna, that’s that, but I remember last month– kinda– sorry ‘bout that–” “Don’t be sorry,” Sabo chokes out. Nice of him not to play dumb. Ace nods. “-- it was good! Real good. You’d be helping me out, if you’re up to it.” “Well–” Sabo falters. He shifts his jaw around, looks altogether way too serious, rigid. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ace.” Ace freezes. “Yeah, you’re right,” his mouth says without his permission. Now his heart’s beating in a bad way. Why’d he say that? Sabo never became a pirate. Maybe he’s not built for that up-front, casual kind of thing– “It’s not that I wouldn’t,” Sabo says with that same hasty voice from earlier. Now Ace recognizes that it’s not an endearing fluster, but a quick course correction meant to coddle Ace, and fuuuuck, he really showed his hand at the worst time.  “I just think– I’m not very available– I couldn’t be any help–” Again Ace’s hand comes down on Sabo’s shoulder. Maybe a little harder this time. “Sabo,” he says heavily, and sucks a deep breath in through his mouth. Sabo shuts up for the duration of his exhale, too, and then Ace smacks his shoulder a few times, grounding them both. “It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re super busy. It’s only a heat. Just forget it.”

Sabo looks more horrified than placated. Damn. Ace is pushing a smile harder than ever before because what else is there to do? Yeah, he’s pissed, but he’d be a prick to take it out on Sabo. 

“Wait, I don't think you understand. It’s not you at all. I just think–” “Yeah, I got it. Not cool of me to spring it on you. Way too short notice. And it’s just a heat,” Ace repeats, also trying to convince himself. His stomach feels like it’s about to mutiny, empty itself of its fat 8am nothing. Like nausea lives there now. 

So Sabo doesn’t want him.

That doesn’t even feel entirely true– But Ace is not going to push it.  No regrets, but also damn him and his bad ideas. Sabo grabs his arm. “Wait, Ace–”

He feels overstimulated and shrugs Sabo off. It takes a few seconds to even formulate a response around his brain mysteriously exploding with something like starvation pains. Sabo looks somewhat heartbroken for him, which is worse. It’s just a heat. Sabo is his own person, obviously. His own person who could probably have anyone other than Ace, what was he even thinking. 

Stalling, Ace ruffles his own hair back into somewhat of a bedhead, and tamps down as hard as possible on what wants to come out. You don’t want me? 

Am I causing problems again?

 Can you just hold me for a while, please, please– “If you feel like you need someone for it, just–” “Damn, don’t put words in my mouth,” Ace manages. He turns on his heel. “‘M hungry. I want food in my mouth. Let’s go get breakfast, Sabo.”

*

They sit across from each other for breakfast in the mess hall. If he’s around, Ace eats there even if Sabo doesn’t; like this, he learns the names of all the dour-faced veterans and bushy-tailed idealists, and they also know not to bug him if he lands face first in his plate. That doesn’t happen today. Sabo sits across from him with that disconcerted look, frowning more than Ace has seen him do in a while– it’s irritating– and Ace stuffs his face like they did not have that conversation. Once his stomach is fuller and he feels stronger, strong enough to hold his instincts at arm’s length again, he reasons that it went as well as it could’ve. Of course he had to ask. Was he just not going to ask? Like a coward? And at least now he knows. Yeah, he feels like a popped bubble or a capsized skiff now, strangled by that rejection in a way he hasn’t been for years, but this time it’s just omega stuff kicked up to eleven. That’s why it feels so beyond his control. 

He’ll get all his hormones sorted with a heat, and then he’ll stop feeling like Sabo’s lost, horny puppy dog. Awesome plan. He slams his bowl down. Sabo’s been talking to some staffers– he really does have his sexy little gloved fingers in everything all the time– and he glances up at the noise. “... No seconds?” “I said I’d help train some recruits today,” Ace informs him, stacking his tray up. Sabo frowns. “Really?” “Yeah– quit that, stop worrying about me.” Sabo takes a deep breath and rubs his neck. “I’m not…” Ace laughs. “Get better at lying. Look, this isn’t my first rodeo, okay? Won't be so bad. And us, we’re fine.” “Of course we are,” Sabo says, and leaves the but hanging in the air.  For now, Ace is fine with that. He whacks Sabo’s shoulder. “See you around?” “Yeah…” 

And the back of Ace’s neck tingles, because he feels eyes on him until the moment he leaves the room. * A nice breeze and a few hours of physical exertion do him good, even if he still feels like a time bomb. At least he can make himself useful until pre-heat starts kicking his ass.  He does indeed see Sabo around. He’s hard to miss at his height, with his stature, having left the top hat behind on this relatively casual day. And casual though it is, he sees Sabo cross from one end of the compound to the other, passing the training yard, no less than four times in six hours. 

Maybe that's not unusual? Except that Sabo stops to look at him every time, arms crossed and not quite focused. 

He's not there when the bell for dinner rings, which raises some questions, but Ace pushes it out of mind. He focuses on the roasted turkey and how he's going to have to ask for heat rations from the cook, who he hasn't quite won over just yet. Maybe in the morning when he’s less sleepy.

He's about to pass out in his room when there's a knock at the door and it opens. Huh. A guy has to question the point of knocking, then. 

“Ace?”

Sabo closes it behind him with his foot, approaches Ace’s bunk– nest half-made and sadly lacking– and waits for him to stand up before holding out a folded set of clothes. Ace can't help the way he perks up at the gift. 

As he reaches for them, Sabo leans in and sniffs. Ace goes still without even meaning to, mechanically closing his hands around fabric. 

“You're getting close.”

“Hi to you, too, Sabo.”

Sabo leans back with a frown. “I really think you should stay in until it starts, Ace.”

“How are you? I'm doing fine, thank you for asking.” 

“Ace.”

His voice is pinched. Briefly Ace traces the shape of his scar again and sighs. 

“I think I've got at least a day or two left ‘til it really sets in and gets, y’know, smelly.”

At age 18 he'd fought off a navy squadron in pre-heat, even, and any pirate in a mile radius knew not to fuck with him. Surely the revolutionary army guys are as disciplined as pirates? 

Sabo apparently doesn't think so. His face darkens. It's tough for Ace not to grin, but he tries. He brings the clothes closer to his chest. Sabo's wearing a whole other prissy outfit– so the ones he brought must've been from today. Ace feels itchy with that knowledge. 

He remembers practically tearing his brothers’ clothes off of them when they were kids, so brashly insistent on tossing them into bed, and laughs a little. Sabo scolded him then, too. 

“I'm not joking, Ace.”

“Obviously not,” Ace says lightly. “I can handle a fever, Sab. You worried about my hot, irresistible pheromones?”

Sabo’s face loosens like a lightning flash before his mouth firms up hard. Ace has the sense he's stepping on something he shouldn't. 

“Yes,” he answers, huffs, and rolls his eyes. “You know, a lot of these people haven't mated in years. If it was anyone but you, I’d probably ask you to use the heat rooms in the infirmary.”

That doesn't make him feel special. He scowls. 

“Don't really wanna be cooped up in any room at all for long,” he edges out. The worst thing is that he trusts Sabo is looking out for him, in his own needlessly intense  way. 

“Please?”

Ace catches the inside of his cheek between his molars.

“I'm telling you, ‘s not even pre-heat yet,” he says. His gland hasn't swollen up, there's no miserable heaviness to his groin, and he still has more than enough energy. So much energy he almost feels like he wants to fight.  

He's so hopeless sometimes. He sits on the bed just to put some space between them, looks dourly at Sabo. 

Sabo's surveying the room. There's a few trinkets, misplaced socks, log pose on the standard issue dresser. He hasn't made a home here, but it's something. 

“I still need to get my hands on some water and food for it,” Ace continues, trying the rational angle.

Sabo shakes his head, tic in his jaw. “I'll take care of that,” he says, and his voice is gentle, reassuring. And Sabo always does what he says he'll do, so. 

Ace frowns though. He feels fidgety, full of tinder sparks. He rubs at his neck, eyes shut. If he hunkers down now, he's just going to be… alone… for a while. And usually that’s no problem.

It's not like this room is a prison cell, but he learned just how slow a few days can pass when there's no one to talk to. He sends another silent thank you to Jinbei for keeping him somewhat more sane for that, but his friends can't do anything about his heat.

It's just a heat.

Sabo says his name and Ace realizes he doesn't know how long he was staring at his lap just now. 

“Ace?” Sabo sounds worried. “You still have your baby snail?”

“…Huh? It's somewhere.” 

“Right. So– that's how we’ll–” Sabo gestures, though he seems confused by exactly what he's doing. He pauses, puts his hands on his hips, and smiles. “You just call me on that when your heat starts.”

Ace’s brow twitches. He's not gonna show that side of himself to Sabo just for shits and giggles. Sabo looks at him and cools down, mouth falling open, smacked with some realization.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, are you still–” Again with the gesturing. “I changed my mind about what I said earlier.”

Ace leans back on the bed, incredulous. His arms are taut behind him. Sabo takes in the line of his body, then looks up. Oh, he's serious. 

“Changed your mind?” 

Sabo nods, all sincere, unflinching eye contact. “Yeah. I can’t just walk around doing business as usual while you're suffering in here. You even told me it was going to be bad. Can't take it lightly.”

Ace hums. Shit, he's getting too used to being saved by his brothers. 

Shaking his head, he pats the stack of clothes. “Couldn't have led with that, chief?” 

Sabo shrugs, smiling helplessly. 

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, voice butter smooth. “I have to get some things ready, and then I’ll be one call away when you feel it coming on.”

“Koala says you never answer your snail.”

Sabo makes a face. “Not fair, she's making generalizations. I can't always answer the snail if I'm sneaking around or fighting–” he takes another breath, pauses. “-- and I won't be– I mean, I'll be right here.”

“So…” Ace looks down. “You want me to hunker down now and just wait for you?”

It seemed like the biggest drag in the fucking world two minutes ago. To himself, at least, he can't deny all the warm, fuzzy feelings dredged up. Sabo also seems happy. They're on the same page again.

“I can bring you some comics tonight?” he offers. Ace laughs. 

He's a world-class wanted man who spent years in the Grand Line, and Sabo thinks he still likes comics? 

He's not wrong. 

“Ehh… just bring me all the papers with stories about Luffy,” he suggests, grinning. The two of them are collecting like crazy. “And the ones about Pops if you got ‘em.”

Sabo smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Excitement grows inside of him. There’s whole-body relief  for the first time in ages. He hates that it's not something he could've accomplished on his own, but– he knows better than that now. 

“Thanks, Sabo.”

Sabo nods. “I’ll take good care of you, Ace, I swear.”

Ace’s ears go hot. He chuckles, looking aside. “You don't gotta say shit like that.” 

“Well, I mean it–“

Ace crashes back into his bed, sprawled over clothes and extra blankets, head tilting back and eyes shut. “I trust you.”

Sabo walks a little closer into his peripheral vision. All serious-faced again. His chip-toothed, wild brat really grew up into a soldier. “Full disclosure, though,” he starts. “I've never shared a heat with anyone.”

“What a surprise,” Ace says breezily. Haha, looks like he's gonna be Sabo’s first again. 

 Sabo doesn't even catch the dig for what it is. Ace clears his throat. “You'll be fine. When was your last rut?” 

“Uh. Not too long ago, actually.” 

Ace looks up at the ceiling, considering that. It means that Sabo’s alpha instincts likely won’t be so intense. Ace isn't sure how he feels about it. He’ll be burning off two years of suppressed heats and also the traumatic stress, according to Marco. 

He worries his lip between his teeth, glances over. “Did ya spend it with anyone?”

He doesn't know why he asked that. 

Sabo sort of stares into the corner of the bed. “Not… really…”

Ace laughs even though he wants to hit something suddenly. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I didn't,” Sabo says with more certainty. Ace trusts that– and it's not his business, he reminds himself. Sabo’s free, all they ever wanted.  “I didn't share it with anyone. Full disclosure again, I don't like how I get during my ruts.”

Interesting. What does that mean? Ace tongues at the corner of one of his fangs and considers asking. 

He sits up, hunched over his knees. “Sabo. You will be fine. If anyone’s gonna embarrass themselves it's me.” Now that he thinks about it, that's pretty likely. His head dips as if the force of gravity hit it all at once, and he rubs the base of his skull.  “Sorry. I wouldn't bug you with this if it wasn't… believe me, it's just…” 

Something gets caught in his throat. 

“No, Ace, you can always ask.” Sabo is fast to sit down next to him. “I want you to ask.”

“Hey…” 

“You’re my brother,” Sabo says firmly. 

Ace can’t do anything but laugh. That really was one of the best ideas he ever had. He could get half-drunk on it at any time. He lifts his arm for Sabo to cross. Sabo returns the echo of their surprisingly idyllic childhood, then settles back into place, looking rather mindful of… something. That’s the thing with Sabo. He always seems to have a thousand things on his mind, but you can’t guess when or even if they’re going to come up. Ace leans over and nudges his shoulder. “I’d do the same for you if you had a bad cycle,” he swears, “you know that, right? Drop anything to take your knot.”

Sabo’s shoulders shake with his laughter, though it winds down fast and thin. His eyes flit away. “Dude, stop.”

Ace grins, leaning over. 

“Huh, maybe it is starting early…” “Ace, I mean it, please,” Sabo coughs into his hand and then stares at Ace so intently that any playfulness snuffs out. “I need to be prepared for your heat, as much as possible.” Ace blinks a few times. There’s an absurd amount of pomp and circumstance around this. It’s embarrassing, humbling– unexpected. He scoots closer and slaps his hand on Sabo’s back, hard. “Don’t treat it like a chore,” he says cheerfully. “You can have fun, too! I trust ya, and I’m not fragile. I’ve been working on my haki, I could probably kick your ass now–” “That’s not what I mean either,” Sabo says, ruefully shaking his head, but he doesn’t elaborate and Ace is getting sleepy. Sabo pats his thigh and stands up, winding an arm back to loosen up. “Alright, I’ll take care of reading material and the food ‘n water. You’ve got the clothes for nesting. Anything else?” “Nope,” Ace says. He said he was low maintenance and he means it. He shoots finger-guns. “Just you and that dick!” Sabo snorts. Ace tracks his movement and finds himself standing up, walking along to the door. Restless, suddenly. “Good night, Ace.” “Night, Sabo.” They stare at each other. Desire comes to life on the tip of Ace’s tongue. His skin prickles with it.

 Sabo is helping him. It’s too much to ask for anything else– especially not after all of Ace’s insistence that he didn’t even have his pre-heat yet. This isn’t need. Not his health. It’s just wanting. Inexplicable, childish wanting. Now that he’s going, Ace wants him to stay. With his hands, which touch Ace so easily; and his tough, pretty smile; and his scent, like the high canopies of the forest stretching toward the sun. In this stuttering, overborne moment, for once, Ace is unable to get his head around the feeling they’re sharing. There’s a huff– it could be either of them– and then Sabo nods, turns the knob, and leaves. Ace waves. Stands there, processing. When nobody and nothing else so much as crosses in front of his room in the next few minutes, Ace free falls into his privacy– into that clunky bed that’s so much more agreeable when arranged to soothe his instincts. Sabo’s offerings are washed in his scent. Ace buries his face in them. His heat is going to colossally thrash him this year. Now he’s stuck inside this tiny, sterile room for a while, too. And he is so, so lucky. The longer he has his nose to Sabo’s shirt, the luckier he feels.

It’s unfair of him to want more.  -

Sabo comes in the morning with a box of newspapers and a tray of breakfast. He has enough sense to have brought enough for both of them to eat together– they make room to do so on the floor. It’s surprisingly cozy. Ace cheerfully gnaws on toast and downs orange juice while pawing at the pages, eyebrows raised at this or that headline. He always grins whenever he sees “straw hat” emblazoned on the front pages. Sabo has the same enthusiasm, finding Ace first thing to show him whenever something new comes up. It’s been a little while, though.  “D’you think he’s okay,” Ace asks, mouth half-full of apple as he holds up one of the more recent ones. Sabo looks up, slurps the rest of a ham slice into his mouth, pauses. “... Of course he is.” “Uhuh.” Another bite. “Why’d you have to stop and think about it?” “He’s a little reckless, isn’t he?” Sabo notes lightly. “But you said yourself that it always works out for him.” He did say that. It does seem a little suspect though. Ace runs his hand back through his hair again, frowning. He knows Luffy is much bigger and stronger than he used to be. He’s reliable, in his own way. His friends will take care of him. All things that Ace has thought to himself any number of times, with increased frequency in the last few weeks. He can’t wait to start walking himself back from the edge. 

“Hey, it’s perfectly natural for an older brother to worry,” says Ace. “Sure is. Do you wish he was here?” “Yeah, a little,” Ace admits, since it’s Sabo– then he immediately thinks better of it. “Well. No, he should be out there becoming King of the Pirates, yeah?”

One-handed, he shifts some of the pages aside to find a picture of Luffy– well, a picture of Luffy’s wacky limbs splayed across the sky in some foreign land. How can you not root for him? When he glances up, Sabo’s smiling just the same as he is. “Yeah, of course,” Sabo replies. “You know… you know we can call him, right? Well, call the Sunny to talk to him.” Ace huffs. “What’s he gonna say? It’ll be the same as always. That kid....” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll see him when we see him.” “Alright, well, if I call him I’ll say you’re busy–” “Hey, if you’re gonna call him anyway, that’s different–” Sabo snickers. Ace starts cleaning up, annoyed again that Sabo has to play errand boy for him until his heat starts kicking his ass. “How are you feeling?” Sabo asks, setting the box of newspapers aside. “Fine–” Ace pauses when he feels Sabo’s bare hand on his forehead. He squints at him critically, an incredulous joke on his lips, but again, Sabo’s so intense at random times. It’s less work to just let him tire himself out. “You know,” Ace reminds him, gently lowering his hand, “you can’t really check my temperature ‘cause of the whole–” Sabo almost squawks when Ace makes use of his logia from the shoulders up, torn into red and orange flames licking the still air, then settling back into flesh. Sabo blinks at him, annoyed, while Ace gets his laugh in. 

ummmm ur honor i love them. anyway yeah the idea is like. ace in heat is very Not low maintenance and wait. this:

Ace in heat was boldly confrontational, glaring at Sabo like that.

 He started up with I’m sorry only to realize that Ace was channeling all that mysterious ire at his mouth– or, no, at the dull, thin bars of the alpha muzzle strapped over it. 

“You going to keep the gloves on, too?” Ace asked scathingly.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

instead of finishing the rest of this fic can't i just.. RP it or smth...

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer's Stone - Chapter 6 (Az POV)

Summary: Azriel is being pushed to his limits, driven half-mad by his increased workload, Koschei’s recent movements, and the unaddressed feelings still hanging between him and Elain. His mind is at war with himself, thoughts and regrets constantly battling with him, but when an old acquaintance comes calling he feels compelled to answer, bound by loyalty and duty he sets off to find what very well might be his own damnation.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel 

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 1970

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros 

Chapter Three | Last of Our Kind (Azriel)

Chapter Four | An Empty Seat

Chapter Five | Death and the Lovely Fawn - UPDATED

Author’s Note: Hope you all enjoy! More below 💋

PHEW! After several months of insanity (see: moving to a new city, taking on several new projects at my day job as a graphic designer, getting engaged, traveling to Europe to be in a friend's wedding, hurting my knee again (rip lmao), and the general chaos of being alive) I am so excited to be back writing again. And even more excited to share this latest chapter of the Seer's Stone with the world.

Writing took a back seat within my life last year, due impart to the aforementioned chaos, but also due to some personal anxieties I had about sharing my work. It's irrational, I know, writing is writing, art is art! But still, I found myself lacking confidence and facing a ton of writer's block, but I found some new inspiration through my professional creative work, had a few friends that really helped to cheer me on, and had a lot of downtime after my knee surgery to think about and play around with my craft. All that being said, I'm really really glad to be back at it and revisiting this story, and learning through writing fanfiction.

My plans for the fic haven't changed (too much), but I do think I ought to note that I made some edits to the last update, Chapter Five | Death and the Lovely Fawn, that I feel like I just needed to make to provide clarity/build up for the direction of the story.

Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you to the folks who reached to me about this fic even when I wasn't actively updating it and offered me support/encouragement. This meant so so much to me, more than you all probably know, and I just wanted to say thanks for that.

This one's for you guys.

xoxo, Court

There was a building headache in Azriel's temples.

Every beat of his heart reverberated through his skull like a war drum. Azriel worked his jaw, grinding his teeth. There had always been something about the dank darkness of the Hewn City that pressed down on him like a fist, but the hateful place was particularly grating tonight.

Wrong, his shadows murmured, this place is wrong

"Hush," he snapped back at them, in no mood for their whisperings.

The floor shifted underfoot, and the long, stone passageway changed before his eyes, writhing as if it were a living thing. To anyone else, the illusion might have been nauseating, but these tunnels and their strange enchantments had become second nature to him during the time he served beneath Rhysand's father.

The old High Lord had personally keyed the spells into the oily stone walls to prevent his captives from ever learning the true layout of the tunnel system. And, perhaps, to also remind them they were so far beneath the earth they could only dream of feeling the warmth of the sun on their faces again.

He had been cruel like that.

Azriel rounded a bend in the stone and found himself in another long hallway carved directly into the mountain. Only this hallway was lined with ancient, half-rusted cell doors—cells that housed the worst of the Night Court's filth. Or at least, what was left of them.

Halfway down the corridor, Feyre and Amren were waiting for him outside one of those cells, the High Lady and her second-in-command half-concealed in shadow, their whispered voices echoing queerly off the rock walls.

Both females fell silent when they caught sight of him. Something twisted in Azriel’s gut. For them both to be here, in the dead of the night, with Nyx still so young and Varian here in Velaris on a short respite from Adriata, meant something was wrong. The look on Feyre’s beautiful face only confirmed that. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re late,” Amren snapped. It was as much a greeting as he’d get from her.

Azriel matched the second’s same cool indifference. “I was in the middle of something when you sent for me. I came as soon as I could.”

“Off again, doing only the Mother knows what? You don’t fool me, boy. I can smell the Continent on you.”

“I come, I go. So is the nature of my work.”

“Is it, now?”

“If you intend to suggest I’m up to something you disapprove of, then by all means, Amren, do so now and let us be done with it. I’m not here to indulge in idle banter.”

The second-in-command bared her teeth, smoke-gray eyes glowing like two torches amidst the gloom, and for half a heartbeat, Azriel thought she might press the matter.

Then Feyre stepped forward and cleared her throat. There were dark smudges of exhaustion beneath the High Lady’s eyes, but she still looked as regal as ever in her Illyrian leathers, her carved ashwood bow and a matching quiver of arrows peeking up over her armored shoulders.

“Enough, you two,” Feyre said, voice laced with nothing but command. She shot both Azriel and Amren a warning look before folding her tattooed hands behind her back, taking up the position of authority fitting of both a war commander and a queen. “We have bigger matters at hand, and I didn’t leave my infant son asleep at home with a nanny just to come here and listen to you bicker.” She nudged Amren with an armored elbow. “So, won't you be a dear and update our lovely Spymaster on the situation at hand?”

Amren shot him one last distrustful look before answering their High Lady's command. "We picked up two...stragglers...trying to make their way to the Prison Isle. From what we've been able to gather, it appears they were attempting to make their way inside the Prison itself."

Azriel's brows rose. Sneak onto the Prison Isle? That was not only impossible, but it was complete and utter madness. A sick, sudden realization shuddered through him, so fierce it cut through the pounding in his head.

Elain.

Elain was trying to get access to the Prison for reasons still unknown to him. Her and the spellspinner she'd tried so diligently to keep hidden in the Library.

Azriel's shadows had brought him word of their machinations weeks ago, initially tipped off by the arrival of the young spellspinner, and catching Elain in his bedroom yesterday had only confirmed his suspicions, but surely she hadn't gone against his warnings. Surely she hadn't...

"Something wrong, boy?" Amren crooned.

He ignored her. "Tell me everything," he said to Feyre.

"One male, one female. Both don't seem to hold any particular court alliance, but they were...dressed strangely. Almost as if they were trying to blend in with the Library's priestesses. Only their robes were gray, not white, and they carried no invoking stones." Feyre scrubbed a hand down her face. "Rhys caught the male on the beaches; I found the female still on the boat they'd used to reach the Isle."

Azriel might have sighed his relief if only Feyre's words weren't too much to stomach. Elain and her friends, and whatever wild plan they'd concocted, might be safe for now, but an unwelcome stranger trying to land on the Prison Isle was nothing to take lightly. And the fact Azriel, nor his shadows, had seen it coming rankled him.

"I tried to talk to her, wanted to know who she was, why she was there," the High Lady continued. "But she pulled a knife before I could get to her. I watched her open her own throat. Tried to heal her, but to no avail, little thanks to the poison on her blade." Feyre shook her head then tossed a thumb towards the cell door. "Rhys is inside with the male. He won't speak, though. He just keeps... singing."

"Singing?" Azriel echoed.

"He means to mock us," Amren murmured.

It was Feyre who ignored the second-in-command now. The High Lady tipped her head towards the cell door. "You'll see." She said. "We'll be waiting at the Riverhouse for your report."

And with that, Feyre reached a hand for Amren and winnowed them both away, leaving Azriel alone with his pounding head, the ancient black stone, and the iron door looming before him.

Azriel drew in a breath. Down, down, down he sank into himself before he strode for the cell door and shoved it open.

The sharp smell of blood and piss and fear arrested his senses as soon as he stepped into the dimly lit cell.

Old memories reared their ugly heads, taking him back to a different time where he came to these very cells to serve a far different lord. Truth-Teller warmed at his side, steadying him. Azriel wrapped a hand around the dagger's familiar hilt and shoved the memories back inside their iron cages to rot.

He made a quick sweep of the room when his eyes finally adjusted. Shadows clung to the corners of the narrow cell, dark enough to conceal his brother's powerful form hidden within them. Rhys was the darkness here. Anyone else might have missed him, but Azriel knew his brother's scent, the sound of his breathing, and marked where he stood in one of the shadowy corners.

In the center of the cell, bound and blindfolded, sat the captive. His gray robes were bloody, his lip split and broken, but he was singing just as Feyre had promised. Singing some horrible old song.

"...blue blood, red blood, blood black as a moonless night," the captive's voice echoed off the cell walls, garbled and made watery by his mouthful of broken teeth. "A pound of flesh, a pound of bone, a gift for a maiden made of light..."

Azriel's shadows swarmed. They flowed across the old stone floors to circle the captive like a pack of hungry dogs, writhing and twisting as they tried to make sense of him and his strange song. Almost as if the song had offended them. As if it scared them.

The darkness melted, and Rhys appeared from within it, arms crossed and brow furrowed, the mask of the High Lord in perfect place. Stars were dancing in his violet eyes, cold and unyielding, burning with a hunger Azriel himself knew all too well.

"He's been at it all night," Rhys said softly. "The same two verses of the same song, over and over again. It's driving me fucking mad."

"You scramble his brains or something?" Azriel asked.

"Would that I could. His mind is impenetrable. Practically walled off with solid obsidian. I've never seen anything like it."

"He's been prepped on how to face a Daemati, then."

"Or spelled to keep one out of his mind."

The words rose a chill within him, and Azriel found himself watching his brother more closely. Rhys worked a tick in his jaw, violet eyes churning as he assessed the battered man babbling his strange song.

"...away, away, at the crown of midnight..."

Azriel had never heard the tune before. Yet, it rankled him somehow. Dragged cold talons through his guts as if it were trying to make a home there.

Pain pricked behind his eyes, blooming like a thousand burning stars.

Azriel rolled his shoulders, fighting the headache, and drew in a deep breath of the rank air, descending deeper into that inside, readying himself for what was to come.

"He'll break," he said softly.

Rhys did not look at him as he replied. "I know."

Eventually, they exchanged the briefest, most fleeting of looks, but the silent words that passed between them meant everything. Rhys's eyes reminded him that Azriel did not have to do this. That he was, in fact, not his father's son. That this Night Court was a court of dreamers, of sons who were forgiven of the sins of their fathers, of daughters free to live as they pleased.

But the weight of duty had been taught to Azriel decades ago. And it was not a lesson so easily forgotten.

Skin slips easier off the smaller bones, blood congeals at the joints, and the mind always, always fractures first.

The old High Lord had taught him those things. Had made sure Azriel knew them, committed them to his memory so he might never forget his purpose. His worth. The thing he'd been made for.

Azriel slid Truth-Teller from its sheath. "Leave us," he said to his brother, voice soft as night. "I'll bring my report to the Riverhouse."

Rhysand put a gentle hand on his shoulder, the gesture made as if it might spare him, as if it might change what he was and the things he was born to do.

It wouldn't.

Azriel had stopped telling himself such follies a long, long time ago.

So he waited until his brother closed the cell door behind him. Waited until his shadows drank the last bit of light from the dank cell. Waited and listened as the prisoner whimpered the last verses of his swan song.

"...a sword for the son, a horn for the Queen, and dagger for their fool..."

Once, when he was just a boy, the shadows had taught him there was a place he could go, somewhere he could hide from his father's wrath, from his brothers' hate. Somewhere deep within himself. A place where he felt nothing, saw nothing.

Was nothing.

Azriel went to that place now, hiding somewhere deep within himself. He thought of roses as he raised Truth-Teller to the pale flesh of the prisoner's chest and began to cut.

Blood bloomed and the ache in Azriel's head erupted like a thunderclap.

And a dagger for the fool.

[aidaronan]

64 for the spotify wrapped/steddie ficlet thing💕💕💕

So I guess I mixed up these two numbers and you should've gotten the Scary Kids song I used for this fill yesterday lmao So I'm actually giving you #24 because.. oops? At least I managed to actually do a ficlet this time. 64 24 Bad Omens - Death of Peace of Mind

You're in the Walls That I've Made

Tags & Warnings: Angst, spice, angst with a hopeful ending Memories come to him in dreams that won’t let go. Dreams of milky skin slick with sweat, of bodies moving together in the heat, in the cold, in every season between. Teeth sinking into skin, hands tangling in hair and tugging rough. When Eddie wakes up, he swears he can taste Steve on his lips, that he can smell his scent clinging to the pillows, that he can almost imagine that exact way he felt around him. Inside him. Beside him. Fuck, it haunts Eddie all these months later, that he had that hand in his and dared for a fucking second to let it go. But he did. Stumbling barefoot into the kitchen, he rewinds the tape in the answering machine propped up on a stack of unpacked boxes. He listens to the only saved messages. “So it’s about three in the morning and I can’t sleep,” Steve says, voice distorted by phone lines and countless replays. “I told you to go, and I love you and I… I want you to go is the thing. I want you to get out, and I want the whole world to know Eddie Munson can shred or whatever. I want you to be happy, fuck, Eds. I do. But…” There’s a long pause that drags on, filled only by dead air and the quiet mechanical sound of the reels spinning. “But I-” Then the beep of the message cutting off. Eddie counts the seconds before the next message starts. He could mouth along to every word now, match every little rise and fall in Steve’s voice. Every frantic syllable. “I don’t know how to… I want you to go, but I also want to nail your feet to the goddamned floor, you know? Eddie, I can’t. I can’t— ” Steve chokes on his words. “I guess it’s three in the morning so I can pretend it was sleep deprivation or whatever that made me say something so selfish right now but…” Another pause. Click, click, whir. An inhale Eddie can hear even on the tinny tape. When Steve says the last three words, his voice is raspy and soft and worn.

“But don’t go.” The tape beeps again. There’s nothing new after that. Then again, there wouldn’t be. Eddie hasn’t had the phone lines hooked up yet in house he’s been building, the house with room for two. He does have electric though, at least in the kitchen. Which means he can make coffee while he thinks about the dreams. And he can lean against the unpainted cabinets and sip the coffee during the small window he has before all the contractors show up. He can also let his hand slip into his pajama pants while he stares at the framing of a half-wall leading into the living room, can close his eyes and remember counting the beauty marks on Steve’s back while he plunged into him over and over again, while he held Steve’s hips and watched the sweat ruin his perfect hair. Fucking stupid. That’s always how Eddie feels after he comes. Fucking stupid that he left. Fucking stupid that he hasn’t called, that he hasn’t told Steve he haunts him like a ghost, that he’s building this house with walls that can hold him too. Eddie wipes himself clean with a kitchen towel and scrubs a hand over his face, feeling the scarring on his jawline—proof that he can be brave. He just wishes he could remember fucking how. He changes clothes and plays the messages again, unpacking one of the boxes, putting a slew of pictures into actual honest-to-God frames. There's a picture of Eddie and Corroded before they split—half to college, half to Cali to form a new band that would eventually get Eddie build-a-house money.

There's a nice prom night 8x10 of Eddie and Chrissy after Supergirl somehow literally pulled her back from the grave. There's the Hellfire Club too in all it's 1986 glory.

Eddie fills frame after frame with memories old and new. But he saves the big collage frame for last, saves all the pictures he’d bought it for so he can put off the way they'll make him feel, so he can savor them at the same time. Even holding them tastes bittersweet on the back of his tongue.

They're all Steve. Group shots, Polaroids, photo strips from the mall. Some are with the kids, some are with the girls or the whole crew. The one Eddie fits into the slot dead center though? That’s just the two of them, casual enough Eddie won’t have to pay off any of the construction crew, or so it looks anyway. Because as casual and just-friends as he and Steve seem to be in the photo, they'd had their hands in each others' pockets behind their backs, arms crisscrossed, skin warm where they'd touched. The tip of his thumb aching, Eddie finishes bending all the little metal tabs that hold on the back of the frame, realizing as soon as it's done that he’s put the whole damn thing back together upside-down. It startles a wet laugh out of him, breaking open an ache that has never left his chest.

An ache that spills and spills, bottomless, gnawing, maddening. It takes the sharp edges of his car keys digging into his palm for him to realize he’s grabbed them. It’s a mile or so to the nearest payphone. His tires squeal on the pavement. His brain squeals in his skull. Hands shaking, he drops half his change onto the concrete, but he knows the goddamned number by heart. He dials it perfectly.

Ring.

Ring. “Hello,” Steve says, and Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the gut. For several long seconds, he thinks he might not be able to talk after all, that he got this far only to fumble it in the end. His tongue feels two sizes to large. His throat too small.

"Hello?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, summoning the Eddie who once faced the hoard, who chose to die and lived. Who chose to die and loved.

When he speaks, it feels like he's trying to use muscles he hasn't used in centuries, coaxing them back into motion so he can rasp out a single sound, swift as a spear slicing through the night: “Steve.”

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Eleven)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: This one is a short one. Technically, it should have gone at the end of the last chapter, but it felt right putting it on its own. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the next chapter right after so you won't be waiting long lmao

I'm so excited already to get to Act Two where all the pain and angst is, where Simon is Ghost and I can torture you all with tears o3o Alas, I have more of Act One to get through lololol

Placebo - Come Home

Stuck between the do or die, I feel emaciated Hard to breathe I try and try, I'll get asphyxiated Swinging from the tallest height, with nothing left to hold on to

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home

Glass of petrol vodka gin, it feels like breathing ethane Throw yourself from skin to skin, and still it doesn't dull the pain Vanish like a lipstick trace, it always blows me away

Every cloud is grey, with dreams of yesterday

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Always goes against the grain, and I can try and deny it Give a monkey half a brain, and still he's bound to fry it Now the happening scene is dead, I used to want to be there too

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Charlotte lay there stiffly, the sun starting to shine through the window. She hadn't slept at all, she hadn't been able to knowing Simon was being shipped off so soon. She felt a lot of things she couldn't quite make sense of, but the biggest one was sadness. Six months was a long time to not be able to see him and she was so used to his presence in her life that she knew she was going to struggle to be on her own again. 

It was stupid really, she’d known from the beginning he was military and yet she hadn't even thought about him being deployed, it hadn't even crossed her mind. The emotion weighed her down and clogged up her throat and she knew she was being dramatic and stupid. Or maybe she wasn't since they were official now. She was right to worry about her boyfriend being in a warzone, right? She wouldn't know, her last boyfriend had been a lazy twat. 

Simon was fast asleep, soft and deep steady breaths brushing the back of her neck while his arm lay heavily over her waist. He had to be up at 5am, had to leave by 6. Looking at the clock, she saw it was 4.30 and her heart dropped at what little time they had left. She was sure her eyes were red due to lack of sleep and maybe, just maybe, she'd silently cried a few times in the night. There were a lot of disjointed thoughts in her brain over this situation but it always came back to the same one. What if he doesn't make it home? 

The idea made her heart go cold and she clenched her jaw tightly as she willed her tears to stay away. She knew deep down what she felt for Simon was more intense than what she was used to. Was this real love? She thought she'd loved Ethan but it had been fleeting and barely there and really didn't take long before it was gone. This was something else. There had been a connection with him since the moment they met, some kind of tether pulling them together. She'd never really believed in soul mates and the whole red string of fate nonsense but Simon was making her rethink a lot of things. She'd never felt such an instant connection before, never felt things so deeply or so quickly.

It felt far too soon to be even thinking about such things yet, but now knowing he'd be gone for half a year, it felt like her feelings were staring plainly at her. She wouldn't tell him, not yet at least. She had no idea how he'd react and she wouldn't risk messing his head up before he left. She needed his head firmly affixed to his shoulders and working soundly when he was over there because the idea of him coming back in a coffin made her feel sick. Would she even get told? Did his family even know about her? So many thoughts and not enough energy, she felt her lower lip wobble again. 

She took a few deep and shaky inhales to steady herself, she wouldn't get upset in front of him and make him feel bad. This wasn't a guilt trip, she was just feeling far too much. As she glanced at the clock again, she figured she'd get up since the sleep ship had well and truly sailed. She could at least feed him before he was off. She wasn't sure if a full English would be too much, too heavy for the day he was going to have but you couldn't go wrong with some bacon butties. 

Carefully, she tried to extract herself from his grip and started to sit up. His hand snaked back around her though, splaying over her stomach and pulling her back against him with a tired groan. 

“Where d’you think you're goin'?” He asked. His voice was deep and raspy from sleep and she tried to relax even though she felt so tense. 

“Was gonna make some bacon butties for us before you… have to go,” she explained, clearing her throat, trying to shake the emotion that was stuck there. He hummed, the arm around her tightening as he placed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Five more minutes, yeah?” He asked, not really giving her a choice with his iron grip. She forced herself to relax in his hold, telling herself this would be the last time in six months she'd be waking up in his arms, that he'd be holding her. She wanted to soak it in, to memorize what it felt like. His thumb rubbed circles on the skin of her stomach, his nose rubbing at her neck softly. 

“Gonna miss this,” he admitted quietly. Her breathing stuttered at his honest admission and her body went rigid, blinking rapidly to stop the onslaught of tears that were threatening to break free. 

“Me too,” she replied with a strained voice. He moved then, rolling her over to face him. Those beautiful dark eyes scanned her face, taking in her tired, red eyes that shone from unshed tears. His brows pinched together a little as he let out a heavy sigh. She felt bad at being so openly sad about the situation, not wanting to make the whole thing worse. 

“You not sleep, love?” He asked knowingly. She shook her head, not trusting her voice in that moment when his warm eyes were shining with concern. 

His hand came to her face, a finger trailing across her cheek in a featherlight touch before moving back up and along her temple. It danced across her forehead before sliding down the bridge of her nose, all the way down to the tip and then back up. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling and how gentle his touch was. He mapped out the planes of her face for a moment longer before his fingers then trailed down her neck, down her arm until it reached her hand. He took it gently and her eyes opened once more, watching as he brought it to his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on it. He placed it between them both, his hand still enveloping hers. 

“Wanted to ask somethin'...” He murmured, sounding unsure. It always surprised her when he seemed unsure of himself for a man such as him. 

“What is it?” She asked, watching as his eyes darted across her face. 

“Wanted to know if uh… if you wanted to write to me when I'm over there,” there was something shining behind his eyes she couldn't quite place as he asked but she felt her chest warm up at his words. 

“I'd really like that,” she smiled. 

It was a stupidly romantic thought, one she'd never really considered. She'd always been a bit of a romantic deep at heart but she hadn't been able to pay much mind to it outside of indulging herself in sappy romance novels. Her life hadn't had a place for romance in the past and yet the soldier in front of her had been quite romantic in their short time together. The flowers on her nightstand were proof of that. A handsome smile tugged at his lips at her answer and he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers firmly. It was a chaste kiss, one that carried a deep longing and yearning from the separation they both knew was coming. 

“I should make breakfast,” she murmured when he pulled away. She didn't really want to get out of bed, to leave his presence, but she knew time was running out. She wanted to see him off with a full stomach, she wouldn't be selfish. He opened his mouth and she had a strong feeling he'd been going to protest, so she quickly darted out of bed. She knew it wouldn't take her much convincing to abandon her plans of feeding him to stay in bed with him instead. 

She sorted herself out in the bathroom before swiping his jumper off the floor, sliding it over her head to stave off the cold and to enjoy the deep, spicy scent she loved so much. She padded over to the drawers to get a fresh pair of knickers before moving over to the kitchen. She busied herself with making the food but her eyes kept darting to the clock. The ticking felt louder and louder with each passing second, like it was mocking her and her aching heart. 

She heard Simon rummaging around in his bag but she left him to get ready as she tried to get the bacon just how he liked it. He slid behind her, something she noticed he seemed to love to do, not that she minded, and wrapped his arms around her. One of his hands slid up inside of the jumper to lay over her bare stomach. It wasn't a sexual touch, but one of intimacy and she felt her body melt into him as she tried to continue with the food. It made her feel a little better that he seemed to want to be attached to her, like maybe she wasn't the only one bothered by the whole thing. 

“Alright, foods ready,” she murmured, putting it on the plates. He released her then, grabbing the plates for the pair of them before he went over to the couch. Nothing good was on tv at this time so she just left some cheesy infomercials on while they ate in a tense silence. His leave was like a dark cloud looming over them both. He finished before her and once she was done, he grabbed both of their plates and put them on the coffee table in front of him out of the way. 

“Come here, love,” he held his hand out to her, gesturing with his head for her to come to him and she did without thought. She was careful when she moved to straddle him that her bare thighs didn't scrape on his belt now he was decked out in his fatigues ready to go. She settled into him and he used his hand on the back of her head to guide it to his shoulder. One of her hands clutched his t-shirt, the other wrapped around him as she snuggled into him, breathing in his scent deeply. 

“Just wanna hold you for a bit, yeah?” he asked and his soft and gentle tone broke something inside of her. She felt the lump expand in her throat and she pressed her face into his neck as the waterworks started. She felt so stupid, she promised herself she’d wait until he was gone. He didn't need the drama. 

“Lottie… Don’t cry… please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he held her tighter, the hand on her head pressing her closer to him. 

“I’m sorry… just ignore me, I’m being stupid,” she sobbed pitifully, her chest stuttering as she tried to suppress them to no avail. 

”It's not stupid, love,” he chided but she didn't reply as she stayed put, crying into his neck. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m gonna miss you, as well?” he asked and she scrunched her face up at the pain that lanced through her chest. His fingers massaged her scalp and she wished it would soothe her but it didn't. 

“Or that I’ll be thinkin’ of you every day I’m over there? That I have somethin’ to look forward to, comin’ back to you?” he finished and there was a weight in his tone that made her sit up, looking at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes looked troubled at her emotional state and she wiped her eyes quickly, trying to compose herself. The idea that he’d miss her and was already looking forward to coming back to her eased the knot in her chest somewhat.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry,” she sniffled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She really hadn’t mean to be so emotional in front of him. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the residual tears that lay there.

“Don’t need to be sorry, love,” he said firmly, giving her a look that told her he meant it. She was just used to always apologizing for things, it was second nature to her. A habit he was trying to help her break. 

She lay one of her hands over his that was still on her cheek, tilting her head to lean into him, seeking out his warmth. He watched her for a long moment, those piercing brown eyes feeling like they could see down to her very soul. She wished she could know what went on in that head of his sometimes. She felt like she was so easy to read and half the time with Simon, she felt lost. 

His eyes cut from her to the clock on the wall, a deep frown pulling at his brows that told her it was time. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the chest. He looked back at her then, his mouth opening and closing for a moment as if he couldn't figure out what to say.

“I uh… I always felt like I was livin’ life in the dark. Just goin’ through the motions, gettin’ on with it. But then… then you came along and suddenly everythin’ was bright light. Every fuckin’ dark corner of my miserable life was lit up and you chased all the shadows away…” his words were rushed as if he was just spewing his thoughts as they came to him and her heart felt like it stopped beating entirely. 

Had she really made him feel that way? Did he really like her that much? She felt like he had to be talking about someone else, she felt like she hadn’t done much to get him to feel that way. But his warm and soft gaze told her he was indeed talking about her. 

“I’m really glad I have you in my life, Simon,” she admitted, not having such poetic words as he did but hoping it got the message across. A few things flit across his face at a pace she couldn't keep up with but then he smiled and it seemed like his dark eyes were glowing amber. 

“I’m glad too, love,” he replied fondly, stroking her cheek again before he moved his hand. She knew that was her cue, knew he didn't really want to say the words that he had to leave. She didn't want to make this harder on either of them so she got up, feeling the cold already. She hovered near the door as she watched him fuss about his duffel bag for a moment before he came over to her with a handful of t-shirts. He handed them out to her and she took them, raising a brow.

“What are these?” she asked even though she knew what they were and she should have been asking why he was giving them to her. He shifted on his feet, running a hand through his short hair.

“I… I haven't washed ‘em. I know you like to sleep in ‘em so I thought…” he trailed off and she felt a blinding warmth hit her suddenly in her chest. It was so thoughtful she almost burst into tears again. She brought the pile of tops up to her face, burying her nose in them for a moment to confirm they really did smell like him. It was so overwhelmingly comforting. 

“Thank you,” she swallowed thickly, her eyes shining with unshed tears and his face told her he fully understood how much she appreciated the gesture. 

“Could I…” his mouth floundered, his cheeks turning a light pink color that she never got sick of seeing on him. It was rare he blushed but she was still shocked he blushed at all. “Could I have one of yours?” he finally spat out, unable to look at her. She wanted to make a witty quip about how it wouldn't fit him to sleep in but she could see it took a lot for him to ask her that. She wanted him to be able to talk to her or ask her for anything, no judgment. So instead, she nodded eagerly, moving to the wash basket. There was a t-shirt in there that hadn’t been washed yet and she moved over to her nightstand, spraying her perfume on it for good measure. She padded back over to him, handing him the shirt and he gratefully took it, stuffing it into his bag quickly as if he was trying to hide evidence. 

“I’m keeping this for now too,” she remarked cheekily, tugging at the soft jumper she’d commandeered from him earlier. She wanted to lighten the mood a little before he left and she didn't want him feeling so self-conscious around her. It seemed to work as his lips quirked up in that lopsided smile she was so fond of.

“Guess I’ll let you since I won’t need it,” he huffed playfully and she smiled up at him. 

His eyes danced around her face for a moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss. It started off gentle but it was like a sudden urgency had come over him. He grasped her face, deepening the kiss as he explored every inch of her mouth. She moaned softly, clutching onto him for dear life as he tried to suck the soul out of her body. It wasn't just a kiss, it was a whole fucking experience and when he pulled away she felt like she was in another dimension. She blinked slowly up at him and a proud smirk graced his face. It didn't last too long though as the reality seemed to hit him again at the time.

“I’ll let you know the address to write once I get back to base,” he said and she nodded. She was eager to write to him, it was better than no contact at all. She quickly moved to wrap her arms around his middle, squeezing him one last time. His arms wrapped around her like snakes trying to constrict her as he pressed his nose into her hair.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he murmured and she nodded, giving him one last squeeze before she reluctantly let him go.

“I’ll see you soon, Simon,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably. 

He gave her one last sad look before he turned and left through the door, jogging down the steps. She shut the door quickly, leaning against it as a sob ripped from her throat again. She knew she needed to get it all out after trying to keep herself in check in front of him. So she allowed herself to cry it out, to feel every shitty emotion she was feeling, because she’d never get through six whole months if she tried to bottle it up. 

[awesamforehead]

Tag at least six people (can be more than six if you want), and say at least one nice thing about or to each of them. Can be mutuals, can be people you follow, can be people you don’t know but just happen to exist in the same circle(s) with. All you gotta do is tag them and say something nice about/to them :)

Thank you @mahikamihan (the nicest and sweetest person here) for the tag! Ignore that its been a few days shhhh I was actually thinking of doing this on my priv but then this showed up so perfect opportunity :D Its a big one so everyone will be under a read more so Im not clogging the dash

@gogtopia Jules, you were the first person I followed when I was revamping my blog last year, the first person that came to mind on who I knew was safe post October. Although this was long ago, I really enjoyed the discussions we had about lore and such on discord that was a fun time. And now you're on the path of getting my into The Yard more too lol

@i-anonymous-crow Crow crow crow crow. You were the first (literally the first) people to follow me and it was all because I was crying over the Las Nevadas gift for ckarlnapity. And since then we've cried some more together. And now we're here, thank you for giving me a chance

@foolishfreckles Moss my beloved. Actually one of the chillest people I know and a really great clipper. Another person who has been here since pretty much the beginning (like when I had 20 followers) and one of my biggest supporters. If you arent already following Moss what are you doing. I also love the Foolish screenies you try to get every stream

@traidyy LUCKY!!!!!!! :D SWEETEST PERSON AND GREAT ARTIST THEIR ART IS SO CUTE. also a karl fan so thats 1000 more attractive points. But actually one of my favorite people here, wuv u Lucky <3 the dog to my cat

@sapybara INY!! Somehow you are the most rational but also the most chaos inducing person here and I love you for that. Whenever dash is all fucky and im beginning to spiral, your post are usually the ones who help pull me back up. Also your sapybara pfp is the cutest thing ever.

@vadergf REY REY! The would be drolo of my heart and the realest person when it comes to the green man. Your anons are hilarious and your art is so cute, no matter what you might say. Also thank you for supporting me like with the dteam hourly account i really appreciate it

@simplepotatofarmer Loyal! :D this is a thank you for always wanting and trying to make the fandom a better place. So many people give you the worst shit and yet you try to give second chances and show kindness. Thats something very rare to find nowadays. I love your aus like the rabbit and black dog au, and your chicken posts are some of my favorite things (all hail dream (chicken) )

@toxicsapolo Hi Salty! The og sapolo, the one who paved the way. Even though I have no idea what you and Adora are talking about with the F1 fandom, Ive admired how passionate you are when it comes to your interests. Sapnap, fashion, cooking, your boyfriend.

@tinynap JO!!! Your liveblogs never fail to make me laugh, even if half of them give you a tummy ache. I also want to say im proud of you trying your best at college, even at your roughest nights. You're gonna do great, kid

@dralbum NIICCCKKK!!! Ok not only is your art gorgeous and gives the softest feeling, you are also one of the funniest motherfuckers here. I enjoy our time on privtwt where we ask to eat each others food lmao

@faehrys ARIA MY ARIA!!! Not only an awesome editor, but also an awesome person. I appreciated how you tried to keep a positive space during the rough time, but also knowing when to stand your ground. And as always, karl enjoyer so extra cool points :>

@negativepeanuthoarder PEANUT!!! A true squirrel in which they stick around and make a home in your heart. You are always the loudest supporter in my writing and I really appreciate that, especially on the harder days

@knffuckraw ACE!!! Another funny person here and also representing the inner haikyuu fans (along with Iny). You have the greatest comebacks for anons and the funniest tags. love you ace <3

@dreamnotnapss First, a thank you for your services they’re greatly appreciated and you be missed by many. Second, a thank you for supporting everyone you could within our circle and even beyond. We’ll remember you fondly

@selvish HI TENDER!! we interact much more on twitter lol but youre one of my favorite people, big karl enjoyer and created some of my favorite fics like Y&OY, Rules, Favorite Place, and when we’re older 💜

@secretkoalasandwich EMMI MY BELOVED. ok tbh when we first started following each other I was so nervous cause you had a Wil pfp but now youre one of my favorite people lol. My brethren of punzblr, always ready to simp with me. Also an amazing artist with the most amazing blending skills youve ever seen youre telling me this is a painting??? anyways 10/10 spectacular amazing wow

@canonicallykayfabe EACHTRA!! Some of the most beautiful art here, both in a more cartoony style and one that holds slight realism. The color choices are fantastic as well. Along with that, you have some really thought provoking posts that I really appreciate like the banter discussion post awhile ago.

@sapnapstummy BLAZE THE KINDEST PERSON HERE 100%. legit i dont think ive ever seen you post a neg post about anything thats impressive. also i want to say i love how youll go back to either dreamtummy or sapnaptummy, so iconic and so true.

@dnapsnfsapnap PIGEON!! We’re semi newish mutuals but I’ll always welcome new sapnap fans into my life. On par with Salty, Jo, and Blaze, you fit right in with the sapolo ideology and i think thats amazing. You can always get the cutest screenies of Sapnap and I love your frog posts as well ^-^

@snfbabydrop Ive said this multiple times but thank you for your work on dreamnotnapss. The safe haven for multishippers in our corner. Aside from that, you are one of the nicest people Ive met here, never let your sunshine get blocked out

Also shoutout to my awesome mutuals who I dont talk to often but still love 💜

[k2ntoss]

A NICE EX !!! DESTIEL

tw ⭒ none, just destiel angst and them being exes ):

a/n ⭒ i think is was just time for me to write something angsty about my little boyfies, yk.... i hope you enjoy my written through tears shit, i listened to the whole smithereens album while choking my sobs, sorry in advance

words count ⭒ idk, i'll stop doing this bc it makes my head ache lmao

castiel is a nice ex, the kind of ex anyone would love to have because he doesn't talk shit about the person he loved with all of him even when he's not feeling okay.

castiel isn't sleeping because he knows he'll dream with those pretty forest green eyes that used to look at him like he was perfect, he knows he'll hear that raspy and soft voice telling him how much he means. it's been nights when not even the warmth of his covers helped, lights turned off and even low and soft music playing on the background but sleep never came.

it had been over half a year, seven months, three days and ten hours to be precise and he counted every passing second, because he was still friends with sam and even with charlie, there was times when he called them and he could hear dean calling their names from afar, cas voice trembled before he said goodbye almost at the second he heard him.

it was hard, the few times sam had invited castiel to drink something with him he would tell him how's dean been doing, he had someone new and it was one of his past loves; a girl named cassie, how ironic but cas was happy for him because dean was doing fine, or so he thought.

"so... he's doing fine, right?" castiel asks, charlie is sitting by his side, her hand on his arm for some sort of comfort while sam looks at him and sighs "yeah, pretty much fine so maybe you should try going out yourself, dude" he urges, his tone is soft because sam knows how hard this is for cas.

"you're dreamy, cas, i know no person would resist you" charlie gives him a smile, she has always had a pretty way to bring a light to anyone who needed it and here he was, not smiling but letting a soft hum escape his lips before he took a sip from his beer "i don't think i'm ready for something like that yet"

"well, you don't have to actually engage into something too serious, cas" sam tells him and he knows that's true but he has never liked the thought of a one night stand to forget a broken heart "mhm, i don't think that's a good idea" and cas is drinking his whole bottle to try and push away the idea of touching or kissing someone who wasn't dean.

the memories of the last day they were together, the day dean broke up with him are still playing fresh on his mind and it brings a stingy feeling to his chest, a burn to his eyes and a knot to his throat. the night died and cas left that bar where he was with sam and charlie, walking to his house with easy steps, his body feeling dizzy as he remembered how dean looked at him that day, his green eyes flooded with tears and his face red because the conversation escalated to a heated argument.

dean felt like cas had changed, he was different and he tried to hard to do anything and everything by himself, keeping his problems and pretty much any issue he might have for him, never letting dean help or at least listen and well, castiel could solve almost every problem which made him feel good, superior to a lot of people until that started to get home with him, where he would push dean away with a smug smirk to do whatever his boyfriend was doing before just to look at him with an attitude that made dean feel a bit useless.

months were like that, every passing day it became worse for him and cas could feel how it wasn't as perfect as before because dean wouldn't be all giddy to see him at the end of the day, he would just greet him with a short grunt or a quick hug, the love was still there bu it felt so hard to act on it.

"is something going on?" cas voice was soft, his weight on the bed making dean look at him for a couple seconds before he went back to read his book "not at all, everything's just fine" and that was their night talk, he'll turn off the night lamp and turn around to sleep, shifting away when cas's hand tried to reach his waist to pull him closer "it's hot, let's not sleep like that tonight" was one of dean's excuses.

castiel knew something was off, that dean wasn't the same as before but what was different? he was just trying to be better, he was trying to show the world that he wasn't as naive and dumb as everyone thought, he wasn't a mere soldier and that he could do things on his own but that wasn't how it looked for his lover, little did cas knew that it was killing them slowly and painfully.

"i can't keep doing this, castiel, do you think it's fine?" dean's voice was loud, he had just arrived from work and cas tried to talk about their problems "do you know what the main problem here is? it's you, you're fucking all this up" words filled with poison and rage, it was all on his chest and castiel felt the realization "dean, i don't know what you mean, i'm trying to do all of this for us" and the calm tone on his words, the way he seemed to be so oblivious of their issues made him feel angrier.

"you're just doing this for you, man, does it makes you feel so good? it's a fucking pain in the ass, you look like you saw yourself as some kind of god and i hate it, castiel" dean was right in front of him, his index pressed on his chest "i hate all of this, what we've become it's not what i want and it's driving me insane" every single word felt like a stab.

"this is not what i deserve and i'm fucking serious" and castiel knows he's damn right, deep inside him he knew it and he had to let dean go so he couldn't hurt him anymore "i won't come back, this is how it ends" dean walks away and he can see the two bags that wait on the hallway, just like that dean walks away. the engine of the impala roars on the sidewalk and that's the only signal he has.

he had lost dean.

castiel kept playing this scene over and over again each night, when he was walking to his home after a long day at work his words would go around his mind like a broken record but this time it was different because his body went into automatic pilot as soon as he went out of the bar.

his feet walking on their own and he wasn't aware until a voice shook him off his slumber "cas?" that voice and the way his shortened name slipped out of his lips, his heartbeat running wild on his chest he was so sure dean could hear it.

there he was, holding a small shoebox with a bunch of casettes on it right in front of the black chevy impala. still beautiful, still dean winchester. forest green eyes bore into his blue ones and he tried to say something.

"what are you doing here?" he asked softly, not even cas knew it because he never noticed until he called.

"uh, i'm not really sure" his answer came out hoarse, his voice as low as always while he tilted his head a little trying to find out how he ended up standing right in front of the love of his life "it's good to see you're doing fine"

"yeah, fine... i'm doing fine" dean said, a small scoff escaping his lips "you're doing fine, cas?" he asked after leaving the box on baby's roof.

"not really, it's been a hard long time" castiel says looking away, he can feel dean's gaze on him and he fights the urge to get close, to hug him and not let go off him ever again "heard you're happy without me, i hope it's true... it hurts but it's okay, i could handle all the pain in the universe if it was for you"

and dean knows it's true, he knows how much castiel would do for him but he doesn't know where did that got lost before they broke up.

cas thought it would be dumb of him to wait for an answer, he knew dean was doing fine without him so he just walked past him. his hand patting his shoulder when he stood for a second by his side "you know i'd still die for you"

and he left, dean turned around just to look at his figure walking away from him. he wasn't doing fine either, nights were darker and not even cassie could fill the emptiness castiel left. he was left alone once again.

[fearlessinger]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

thanks for the tag @ladyofthenoodle and @trainsinanime!

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, but if we count second and third names my grandmothers and great grandmother respectively

2. When was the last time you cried?

like yesterday night watching Star Trek SNW lmao. I’m such a cryer, give me some sappy dialogue and swelling music and I’m instantly in tears. I’m not even sure I liked the episode, I just can’t help it my tear ducts do whatever they want ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

3. Do you have kids?

nope

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

a normal amount I think?

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I did some swimming and some gymnastics as a child and hated every minute of it. In recent years I got into the habit of taking long walks in the evening which worked very nicely for me but then covid happened and I haven’t quite managed to make it a habit again

6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

the vibes

7. What’s your eye color?

something like grey-green

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way

9. Any special talents?

I never forget where I put my keys

10. Where were you born?

Italy 🤡

11. What are your hobbies?

I sang in multiple choirs until covid hit and I don’t think I’ll be going back to that any time soon but I haven’t really found an alternative hobby yet

12. Do you have pets?

no, but occasionally I cat sit for family & friends and those are basically my babies too now

13. How tall are you

165 cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

honestly I liked all of them well enough, though math is definitely the one that came the least easy to me.

15. Dream job?

Idk if I can really call it a dream job but lately I’ve been kinda regretting not learning tailoring from my grandma when I had the chance. I probably would have hated having to deal with the clients tho 😅 I think more than half my mutuals have already been tagged and also 15 is way too much pressure, so whoever sees this and is in the mood feel free! Have a nice whatever part of the day you’re in <3

[abba-enthusiast]

hi!!! 12, 33, 41, 64, 78

have a nice christmas eve❤️

Hiiiiii 💖

12. What was your last dream about?

I usually don’t remember my dreams, but the night before my greek exam I dreamt that I couldn’t remember how to conjugate any verbs lmao 😭

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

I’ll admit, I’m not really a breakfast person, cause if I eat the wrong thing/too much/too early it tends to make me nauseous, but when I‘m at uni I‘ll force myself to eat something anyway (because if I don’t my day is ruined by 11am 🙃). I kinda go through phases where I eat the exact same thing for like three months straight until that makes me want to throw up too, and then I switch to something else, and right now I‘m eating a mandarin and half a bowl of those crave cereals (the other options are 1 piece of untoasted toast (i know, don’t come for me) with butter and raspberry jam, half a portion of store bought porridge with berries, or a piece of Dinkel-Brot with nutella.) And always a cup of coffee <3

41. Are you a good liar?

No lmfao, or at least I don’t think so. I feel like everybody can always tell 🙈 I am very good at lying by omission though :)

64. Are you a gossip?

🫢 yeah. But only when I‘m with close friends and we’re talking about people we both don’t like/from high school, otherwise i don’t really care

78. Have you ever done drugs?

I have had weed (and alcohol), but nothing stronger

Merry Christmas!! Have a nice day ❤️

[marchingbandtshirt]

In regard to the tags on a previous post, I think it’s about time I come clean about some personal things related to a discord server I had been in and was removed from several months ago, and why. I won’t say everything in this post will be 100% objective or “what really happened,” but it will be at the very least the most honest I can be about the whole situation.

I joined a server sometime last year that was all about the inFAMOUS game series, something I’d gotten back into after the Destiny fixation wore off (which is now back again. lol. lmao even), and very importantly to me it was a server largely focused around the various OCs of its members. I love creating ocs for anything I’m a fan of, and finding a whole community of people for this tiny niche fandom that was geared towards what interests me the most about fan culture was like a dream come true. It was a pretty contained server as well, which was also very nice, as I tend to be overwhelmed easily by large servers even if the culture there is generally positive. The members were all extremely welcoming and friendly towards everyone who joined, which in hindsight just makes me all the more frustrated with myself over what happened, that I would ruin my relationships with so many wonderful people because of my own vices.

To get right down to it, I was removed over sending a controversial piece of nsfw-adjacent writing about my ocs (both over 18, both unrelated, just to be clear). I’m not going to repeat what I’d posted, that will forever remain between me and the locked note sealed away in notes app quarantine. In truth, what I had written hadn’t even been 100% in earnest, it was really just me trying to be “one of the cool kids” with an idea that had been only half-thought out and poorly executed, compounded by the fact that I wrote it all in a blur really late into the night and sent it without thinking. It feels pretty stupid as to why I would do such a thing, looking back on it now, but insecurity’s a hell of a brain poison when you’re in the midst of things.

By “one of the cool kids” I mean that the general server culture around nsfw topics was fairly lax, from my perspective, and it seemed like no one was really afraid to delve into convos or writing around characters’ kinks or sexual situations with various pairings. Since becoming a part of the server, I got the feeling of missing out on something everyone else was enjoying because I wasn’t doing the same, like I was standing outside looking through a window at a fun party everyone was invited to except for me. I’ve been a writer for a while now, but before then I barely had any experience writing about explicit topics or kinks (even my own), and I was admittedly way out of my depth with multiple things I’d written of that caliber that I shared in the server before, including my fateful message. In the moment, it seemed rather harmless, with two of my own characters who both enjoy pushing each others’ buttons in certain ways, but in actuality what I sent ended up making several people who read it uncomfortable with the subject.

To be completely honest, many of the conversations that happened before in the nsfw channel had also made me personally uncomfortable (YKINMKATO), so I just kept it muted, checking it on my own time when I could be in the right headspace. That meant I was largely unaware of any conversation happening around my post at the time until I checked the channel again later and saw multiple people’s comments about it, which in turn made me hastily write a follow-up to try and explain things better in context, but instead that just made everything worse and led to me being removed from the server due to a conversation I was never privy to. I don’t blame the admin or mods or anyone for how they responded at all, in hindsight it was largely deserved, and not just for that reason alone.

I won’t sugarcoat the situation. The way I engaged with the community and the people themselves before then, after the initial bout of anxiety around talking about my characters with others wore off, had frankly become unhealthy for me and unpleasant for everyone else. I let insecurity, jealousy, entitlement, and selfishness go to my head and mix into a really toxic mindset that made me think of it less as a collective of likeminded fans and more as a hierarchy of popularity. Instead of truly engaging in fandom and celebrating others’ creations, I’d just stew and rot in my own emotions because the same amount of “engagement” others had wasn’t happening with me, the most important person in the server (/s). I talked a big game about my own wip and still have next to nothing to show for it (I don’t know if I’ll ever have anything to show for it now, even if I want to). I derailed convos on others’ channels to talk about my own things and steer them towards myself, on several occasions. In general I’d been very inconsiderate and self-absorbed to my fellow fans, and that wasn’t fair for anyone involved. I was just making myself miserable, and as a result I ended up hurting the people I was supposed to call my friends. If not for that message, then it would’ve been just a matter of time before something else got me removed, I’m sure.

There’s really no excuse for my actions given that they caused other people harm. Honestly, if I ever was given a second chance to return, even in good faith, I don’t know if I would. The damage has already been done, and all I can do now is try to amend myself and move forward to do better in the future and not let my insecurities blind me to the positive relationships I do have. But for what it’s worth, if anything at all, I’m sorry.

I really do miss you guys.

[bisluthq]

: Dreams lmao…I feel u and anons girl because I have random swiftwyn dreams at least twice a week and every time I wake up I think they got back together without even thinking about it bc it was so realistic lmfao. It’ll literally be like 4pm and I see something tayvis related and only then I remember 😭😭 make it stop it’s fucking with my head and emotions

Yeah dude my dreams are either wack af like truly surreal bullshit (and that tends to almost be lucid dreaming like I’ll figure out during the course of the dream that it’s a dream and then I’ll have a lot of fun) or like really regular hyperrealistic shit and then those ones confuse the fuck out of me. Like I’ll genuinely be like “oh shit didn’t I make plans with so and so” and then like nope I did not lmao but dream me did. The other one recently was where I told my bf a friend of ours had asked to use the garden for a party and he was like “I don’t think she did” and I was like “yeah I’m pretty sure she did dude and I should’ve checked with you but it’s fine right?” and he was like “just check your messages” and yup I hadn’t spoken to her about that. He was correct. I’d had that happen in a dream and I think the dream stemmed from another friend asking to do that and us saying no lol. Anyway, I’ve had celeb/gossip ones like that too where I read something or y’all say something on this blog and then like it didn’t happen lol as I subsequently discover.

I don’t think it was always like this btw idk it’s more in the last two or so years that I’ve noticed it? What did used to happen to me when I was writing ft is I’d get ideas for articles/pieces in my dreams and then I’d wake up full of beans but by the time I got my laptop out the idea would be gone or like half an idea. My ex tried to get me to journal them or tell her first thing but I could never get that quite right OR my other theory is the ideas weren’t as good as they seemed in my dream lol like so when I was trying to tell her that was actually the idea but it seemed good in my dream and it was kinda stupid out loud 😂 I lean towards the latter because that’s also happened to me when I’m drunk or stoned like I’ll get what seem like deeply creative (kreative really) ideas and I’ll write them down and then when I’m sober, I go to check what I wrote and I’m like “drunk nat you fucking dumbfuck bitch this is what we wasted our time “working” on last night???? This is what you had us do for an hour last night??? Please never take the wheel dude!!”

[snstse]

Anyways, I have great and stressful dreams.

Last night, I dreamnt that me and my company went on a work trip to a different continent (Europe or something). We had a Very important deadline that day and no one but me was stressed about it!

My boss was like, it’s okay! We have 11 hours! And I’m like, that’s how long my work day is!?

Soooo anyways, we end up in some sort of killing game with hundreds of other people LMAO. The prize is money, but like… no one volunteered, so it’s a pretty shitty prize to offer. It proceeds by level:

Level 1: There are two doors. You’re told to go through the left door to pass. If you go through the right, you don’t pass (and I don’t think there’s an actual consequence; you just don’t get to play any further). Half the group went right, because they think the voice is lying. The correct door is on the left.

Level 2: Now we’re inside a mall with a train station also… There are multiple paths, escalators, etc. Like before, you’re told to find the correct door. There’re at least, like, 5 places to go. There’s a little girl running around telling people to go to the train station (her NPC tag is ‘Little Liar’). She’s an evil little shit getting people killed lmao. Anyways, there’s no real puzzle (it was very violent though) and we got lucky finding the correct door IG.

Level 3: Lunch break! Despite all the violence and death and the trauma you’d think I’d experience, I was STILL fucking worried about work!?

Then I wake up, ‘cause I have to pee. The end.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #170

Give us a lyric from a song you’ve recently listend to: I'm listening to "Slum Planet" by 3TEETH right now and the lyric just said was "no one wins in this human race."

Why did you cry the last time you did? I learned about diabetic comas and started fearing that one day it'll happen to Mom while she's asleep with how violently her blood sugar plummets. My anxiety was so fucking bad that night, I had so much trouble falling asleep.

Have you donated blood in the last 2 years? No, but I actually plan on doing it with Girt this Sunday, it completely depends on what my blood pressure is at the time of the appointment; it's almost always alarmingly low EVERY time I get it checked, like it's just normal for me (partially because of a med), so there is a very real chance of me being turned down. But I'm still going with him regardless though, he loves when he gets the chance to do it (drives are coincidentally almost always on work days for him lol) and I fucking love that.

What is your relationship with the last person to comment you? Like, on a social media? Facebook is telling me Ashley, my boyfriend's sister.

Who was the last person to sit on your bed? Me, I still do certain physical therapy exercises lying and sitting on it.

Do you have a favorite flower? Orchids, pink tulips (I don't really care about non-pink ones that much), dahlias, hydrangeas, roses, etc. I just adore flowers.

Would you rather be stuck on a desert island with your ex or a python? HA give me the fucking python, at least the snake won't make me feel like literal trash. Besides, a python is not going to be able to eat me and with that fact it'd have no interest in bothering me, and I'd leave it alone too. Don't villainize snakes.

Name three objects within your reach? My water bottle, planner, and Girt's work schedule for like an entire year lmao. He gave it to me for the convenience of planning hanging out days and I think he also knows I just like knowing where he is, especially if my anxiety is high and I can't immediately reach him.

Would you get a shamrock tattooed to your forehead for $5,000? Gah, that money is FUCKING TEMPTING, but I just couldn't.

Where was the last place you went that was more than an hour away? Why were you going there? A city two hours away that is where Girt's grandmother is at a nursing home. We were celebrating her birthday; that day wasn't her actual birthday, but it's a day that worked for the family to get together. It meant a lot to be there, because odds are it was her last.

Who was the last person to tell you you looked nice? Girt, I think?

Do you know a schizophrenic person? Girt's mother, and I know of my schizophrenic half-sister.

Name the last 3 people you kissed and list one nice thing about each one. Girt is very polite, Sara was very creative, and Tyler, uh... he was sweet?

Are you friends with a Conner? No, I don't even know one.

What is the last thing you spoke to your father about? He sent me a picture of his cat Louie chilling with a deer in he and his wife's backyard. I'm against letting your cat free-roam outdoors, but regardless it was very cute and I said so. He was just sitting chilling while the deer grazed.

Ever suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? I literally have it, yeah.

During which year of your life were you the most unhappy? I genuinely don't think any hell a god could make could be worse than what 2016 was for me. Every waking moment I wanted to be dead, and when I slept my dreams were always the same: extremely painful and focused on Jason and how we'd never be what we were again.

Have you ever seen a bluejay in person? Yes, I love them. I used to collect bluejay feathers while I dated Jason actually, because his nickname from his dad was always "J Bird," and I called him that sometimes too.

Who is the most energetic and happy person you know of? My nephew Ryder.

Who makes you smile the most often? Girt.

Do you remember the first person you felt sexually attracted to? In a completely serious context, Jason.

Of all of your friends’ significant others, who do you get along with best? And least? I don't really know my friends' s/os, at least not on a personal level.

Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? YUP, GIRT. Finally happened lmao, bomb-ass decision.

Who do you think is the most attractive actor? Probably Jason Momoa lmao, or Johnny Depp.

Have you ever been caught doing something REAL embarrassing by your parents? LOL SURE HAVE AND I WANTED TO PASS AWAY

Do you have any of your neighbors as friends on Facebook? No.

You can only listen to 1 band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? so like...... Rammstein, surprise lmfao

When was the last time you felt like your heart was actually breaking? Many months ago when I was pretty convinced Girt was going to leave and I was going to relive the Jason breakup, just with him. I was fucking hysterical, this guy had to hold me as I probably broke his eardrums scream-crying for like, 15 full minutes. The feeling I had in my chest was more awful than I could ever put into words.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? Probably Mom?

Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Girt.

Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? Yes, in a couple instances where I was mad.

Do you know anyone who has fought in a war? Jason's dad was in the Navy, but idk if he was ever in a combat situation. I know Girt's dad fought in Operation Desert Storm.

Name ONE good memory about your last ex? I very much felt like I could be 200% myself around her.

Do you live near any large rivers or lakes? Yeah, the Tar River is really long, and I live in an area where you regularly cross smaller bridges over it.

Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" This very much depends. I'd say generally no, I tend to like terms of endearment, but if it's some creepy guy that seems very suspect, I'd be uncomfortable.

What's the worst thing you've gone through in the past year? Letting go of and healing from an extremely rotten friendship. Deciding enough was enough with Sara was so fucking not an easy decision, it was fucking excruciating and involved so much hurt, and I regularly questioned if I was a horrible person.

What's the next friend or family birthday coming up? Will you buy them a present? Literally tomorrow is my sister Ashley's 30th, and no, but only because I don't have a source of income. I can't get anything for family and it fucking sucks.

How many beds are in your home? Two in the traditional sense, however we do have a couch that can fold out into a bed. Not a very comfortable one, but it's a bed.

Do you wear face masks in public? I no longer do, not because I don't believe in the effectiveness of masks (because they fucking are effective), but because I think like most people, I've just given up on the concept of us ever getting Covid under control; it's going to be in the human population for probably as long as we live now. A new type of flu, basically. I would wear a mask though if I was sick with Covid-esque symptoms, that's just basic consideration for other humans.

Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? Only Girt; the first time we dated briefly at the end of 2017 I just wasn't ready to be with a man again. I had walls that weren't coming down.

What month of the year was your mother born? August.

Who do you feel most beautiful around? My mom.

Have you ever had a friend that got a bf/gf, and then completely ignored you? Yes, what a coincidence, I was thinking of her last night. We were online friends with a long, very tight friendship, but one day her accounts that I knew of were just gone, and this was very near the time she started dating some guy.

Who is the smartest person you know? Girt.

If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Hell no.

The last two people you kissed, are they virgins? Girt's not, Sara was when I knew her, no clue about now.

How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? We just hung out at my house.

Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yes, more than one person.

What was the last thing that changed your life completely? Going to physical therapy. I am so fucking happy with all the progress that is still happening, standing is by now generally only uncomfortable versus actually painful. I'm standing more in real-life situations that prove to me how much better my legs have gotten.

What do you normally drink when eating at a fast food restaurant? Usually either Mountain Dew or Coke.

What was the last thing you saw that made you smile? A really cute picture of two of my nieces; Aubree was being an adorable big sister.

Who was the last person you took a photograph with? My niece and sisters.

Did you like the show Invader Zim? Surprisingly I never really watched it, I just thought Gir was cute.

What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? I've never been scared by a book.

What does your best friend love that you hate? Extremely hard games that generally require hours and hours of failing regularly to get good at it, nameably FromSoft games; I'm quite sure Girt's platinumed/100%ed all of them lmao, meanwhile I couldn't even get to the FIRST BOSS of Bloodborne myself haha, I suck at those games SOOOOOOOOOOO bad. My head nearly exploded when I tried Dark Souls, like I quit pretty damn fast because once a game reaches a certain level of difficulty for me, shit's not fun anymore. Meanwhile Girt's hardheaded as HELL and really gets satisfaction out of figuring out challenges, so FromSoft makes some stuff he really enjoys. What sucks is I LOVE watching the games be played, like Elden Ring is one of the greatest video games ever made in all of history imo, I just don't have the patience for those of its sort as a player. Video games are Girt's "thing" though that he's just super fucking good at.

How well do you know the people you live with? I know my mom very well, and we've been closer than ever lately. I feel our already-strong bond has strengthened quite a bit just from sitting out in the living room with her during dinner more often. She confides in me with a lot of things and has told me how much she appreciates me just listening.

When was the last time you had a conversation with an ex? A few weeks ago with Juan, if you even wanna count him as an ex when we dated for less than a day.

Ever cried while you were on the phone with the last person you kissed? No, we basically never call each other. He's mentioned wanting to but knows I hate phone calls and I'm like you're obviously an exception dude but yeah we don't really talk-talk via the phone.

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? I have two Cloak shirts, a brand owned by Markiplier and jacksepticeye, and one features the Randler and cockatrice used as symbols for Good Mythical Morning/Rhett & Link.

Do either of your parents have tattoos? No, but my mom wants one based around her kids and grandkids.

For your birthday do people buy you a cake or bake you one? Usually buy.

If your boy/girlfriend wanted to have a sex change, would you support them? Sure would, I'm pansexual anyway so it wouldn't remove my sexual feelings for that person. Like sure it'd obviously be a massive change, requiring adjustments like getting pronouns right, but he/she would have my full support if they felt a sex change would improve their happiness.

What do you think of cannibals? It's gross. I think eating your own species, at least for such developed animals like humans who have consciences that allow us to put meaning into BEING a human, is morally questionable.

[iamnot-theboynextdoor]

pleasant dreams last night - dreamt i saw some of good omens s2

i was in a cinema but i couldn't hear anything, so all this dialogues was digured out via context clues. i lament that the dream is fading- i saw all of the first episode but i can't remember much of it, other than it was a "where are they now" of newt, anathema, shadwell and madam tracy

in episode 2, aziraphale and crowley got suddenly summoned to Limbo, a place which was kept secret from most angels and demons. all these angels and demons who got "fired" started filing in - the angels were all wearing red instead of beige (one of the angels was a woman somehow related to sandalphon?) then at least half of them started pairing off and *violently* making out, to aziraphale and crowley's absolute shock. their leader approached them and was all "we learned about you, see, you're not the only clandestine pair out there" and crowley was like "UM. we don't do *that*" and then they fell through the floor back to earth.

(the message the audience was supposed to receive was "yes, there IS a romance going on between aziraphale and crowley but we're not going to just chuck them into it)

as soon as they landed they got accosted by gabriel + the angels and beezlebub + the demons. aziraphale dragged crowley into the bookshop which was enchanted to only let them inside so they were safe. there was a shot of an ikea bed half-built, implying that crowley was staying over a lot (for safety, obviously).

it cut to michael in heaven talking to god through a painting (it was meant to be frances mcdormand live-action but my brain didn't know what she looked like lmao) like a skype call. michael was annoyed that god was letting aziraphale and crowley live and god was all "i have a plan, not telling you though (:" and dismissed her

god summoned crowley but did a Trick to get him into heaven (this is so silly i love it thank you brain) she turned him into the tenth doctor (my dreams have a Theme recently). i think it was because she knew crowley wouldn't respond to a summons as a demon? so ten was all "what, what, what, who are you?" and then she turned him back into crowley, who was like "WHO WAS THAT". aziraphale got summoned normally. (they can't get five minutes to themselves.)

god gave them both crowns that were half heavenly and half hellish, put one on herself, called them both professors (of...?). aziraphale was pleased (fancy title!) and crowley thought the crowns were ugly (to be fair, the heavenly side had all these gaudy rhinestones on it). god said that she would reveal her plans for them if they were patient and then they fell through the floor again. (lot of that going on.)

they were sent back into all their memories of the times they hung out together. we got to see lots of new ones (can i remember what those were though? no) and i think they were supposed to learn that yes, they *were* supposed to find each other and become friends, maybe even fall in lo-

and then i rudely woke up.

[brianllamawrites]

Disrupted Sleep (Harry x Reader)

A/N: It's been a little while! Uni has been keeping me busy but I've finally gotten around to writing something (this one took sooo long to finish lmao). Unsurprisingly, it is yet another fic about sleep haha. I can't guarentee when the next fic will be out but if you want to be tagged in anything feel free to let me know! :)

Word Count: 823

Tagging: @ageless-aislynn @khayrrilrainxwells @mcbenson25

Disturbed by your heavy breathing, a hot bead of sweat slipped down your forehead. With the tips of your fingers, you rubbed your eyes hoping to adjust to the pitch-blackness around you. Exhausted, you let your hand rest on your face for a moment. The room had that autumn chill to it, but your cheeks were still burning. Ugh. Being careful not to disturb the duvet too much, you rolled onto your side and shuffled out from beneath the cover. The cool air was surprisingly unpleasant. With half your face smushed against your pillow, you squinted through the dark towards your bedside clock: Half past one. How was it only half past one?

You shifted onto your back and stared up at the ceiling -- what was a pallid magnolia in the day was now a dark breeding ground for unwanted thoughts. Eyelids were heavy, and eyes were strained, but going back to sleep now felt impossible. You forced a deep breath, struggling with the lump in your throat and your tight chest.

What was it even about? The nightmare happened a mere few minutes ago but the more you tried to remember it, the less it made any sense. It was night. You were alone- Well, almost alone. There was something else in the dark. Running. Hunting. And just as it reached out for you, your eyes shot open and you woke up... Or at least, you were pretty sure you woke up. The distant, quiet hum of a car passing by outside was too real of a detail for it to still be a dream. Surely?

The back of two cold fingers grazed your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinched away and turned your head to meet a rather concerned pair of blue eyes.

"Are you alright?" mumbled Harry, his sweet calm voice filling the silence.

Your heart slowed to a steady pace; Harry always had that effect on you. Through the dark, you could see hints of bags under his eyes -- a  result of the increasingly late nights he was spending at STAR Labs. Bless him. He was always so determined to help everyone out that he often forgot to take care of himself.

You shot him a forced smile. "Yeah, of course."

"You're awake at half one in the morning."

"So are you."

"Y/N," he quietly grumbled, seeing straight through your façade.

You really didn't want him to spend his first work-free night in ages wide awake and worrying about you. 

"I'm fine, really, I just..."

Harry wrapped the duvet over you and slid his hand across your stomach, hooking around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You couldn't help but nuzzle against his chest -- a place where no nightmarish monsters could get you. You were safe. Truly.

If only you had Harry by your side in your dream, whatever was after you would have found itself meeting a gruesome end, whilst you would find yourself with your lips against your dazzling hero. Oh, what a dream that would have been.

"I think I had a nightmare." You spoke into the fabric of Harry's top, hoping it would somehow absorb the shakiness of your voice. It was leftover fear. Fear that was quickly dissipating away with every rise and fall of Harry's chest against your cheek.

"You never have much luck when it comes to sleeping, do you?" Harry murmured.

His soft lips pressed against the top of your head and his arms squeezed tight, ridding you of the last few memories of that dreaded nightmare. He was the perfect level of cosy warmness, not hot enough to make your warm cheeks feel fiery again, but certainly warm enough to fend off the autumn chill surrounding the two of you. It was enough to lull you back to the verge of sleep -- especially with Harry's gentle, rhythmic breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

You could picture it now, a horrid shadow monster with pure shock on its face as Harry stepped in between you and it. Harry would have his pulse rifle on him -- as always -- and he'd have it poised in the air as if it weighed nothing, partnered with that overly confident smirk of his. The nightmarish monster wouldn't stand a chance. And after all was said and done, Harry would sling the rifle around his shoulder before bringing his hands to your waist. Your lips would be inches apart, a sweet kiss waiting on the horizon to see which one of you would break eye contact first. Yes. That would be a good dream.

You were so close to letting your eyes stay closed for the rest of the night that you almost didn't hear Harry ask once more if you were alright. In your defence, he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was about to fall asleep as well.

"Yeah," you mumbled, "I think I'm gonna be just fine."