#but i've had these saved for a long time now

[odd-lil-duck]

A story!

Gumdrop was sitting in class, bored out of her mind. She was too smart for the regular classes but not smart enough for any of the advanced classes. She could keep up with her school work easily enough. Math was the subject she excelled at, though she could spend hours in her literature class. It was the first class of the day and by the time school was over with, she couldn't wait to go home.

x

"Yoooo!"

A voice was coming up behind Gumdrop. She turns around to find Citty Kat running up to her. Citty Kat was always beaming and ran around like sunshine was trailing behind. Today seemed no different. They ran up to Gumdrop out of breath. "Hey! Wait! Wait up!" Gripping their sides as if they had nothing else to hold.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah no totally!" They finally straightened out. "I just needed to tell you something!"

Something? Gumdrop and Citty Kat haven't known each other long, but Gumdrop could not help but be cautious anyway.

"Are you doing anything after school?" They asked.

"No...?" How important was this if they had to wait till after school to tell her?

"Good! Let's find Andre! We need to bring him with us too!"

Andre?

What does Andre have to do with anything?

x

They both found him outside the boy's bathroom. His last class of the day was P.E. so he just finished changing back to his shorts and long sleeve shirt.

"Yoooo!" Citty Kat was waving their arm around crazily to catch his attention. Gumdrop let her attention drift to the falling leaves.

"Is everything okay?" Worry spread across his face rapidly. His arms drift back to their normal place crossed over his chest

"C'mon let's go!" Citty Kat pulls him by the arm and begins running off, leaving Gumdrop to follow behind. She sighed and trudged along.

x

Citty Kat n Andre stop in front of the doors of some fast food restaurant. Through the windows it's busier than usual. Gumdrop catches up to them and stops in front of the doors. Citty Kat turns to them and speaks.

"Alright! Are you guys ready?" The two turn to each other in confusion.

"Ready for what?" Gumdrop knows they mean no harm - that's why she followed them - however what little she knows about them is that they are a very spontaneous, almost chaotic force. They do as they please and follow the wind in its spirit.

Citty Kat points to the sign on the window. "They have Buy 1 Get 1 Free burgers right now! We have to get some! Mandatory!"

"Wh- that's it?" Andre couldn't help but be more suspicious.

"The food here is sooo good! I've been saving up for a while and then I see the sign today!"

Gumdrop couldn't be any more underwhelmed. She turns to leave.

"No wait don't go!" Citty Kat cried out. "Just trust me on this, you won't regret it!"

Gumdrop sighed. She turned back to the doors. A wide small spread across Citty Kat's face.

"Alright let's go!" They all march in one after the other.

x

The line is longer than usual, giving the kids a few minutes to talk.

"Okay!" exclaimed Citty Kat. "Anyone have any food allergies? Any food icks? Anything?"

"N-no. Nothing like that." Andre shook his head. Gumdrop wordlessly shook hers.

"Okay! Stay right there!" Citty Kat goes ahead to the line, leaving the two alone.

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, the silence growing almost unbearable. Andre shifts uneasily on his feet. Gumdrop keeps her arms crossed, waiting.

"So," Andre breaks the silence between them. "I noticed you keep sitting at the same spot at lunch alone."

"And I noticed you keep sitting at my spot at lunch," Gumdrop responds. Andre begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"It's the only place, uh, away from everyone else, Idk I just needed to get away from everyone," his voice dropping to a whisper, "If you want me to leave then I can, uh, I can stop sitting there."

She turns to look at him. His head has dropped down, eyes turned to the floor. His hands are still on the hem of his shirt. His sneakers are pointed inward. The hat covering his head of hair starts to sag a bit.

Gumdrop sat on this for a moment. She has discovered her god was a false god, but she was still a student of his teachings. Her mind led her in one way, but her instincts.....

Sighing, she speaks her mind.

"I don't mind."

Andre perks up.

"you- you mean it?"

He looked like someone just gave him a puppy, thought Gumdrop.

"I just, I need my space. I need a moment to myself."

"Of- of course." Andre couldn't help but feel more than grateful.

"So-"

"Okayyyy!! I have the food!!" The smell was wafting through the air as it grew closer to the two. "Alright! Let's go find a table!"

x

"Go on! Give it a try!" Citty Kat smiles with expectation and excitement. They had placed the two burgers in front of the other two. Gumdrop couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of so much grease. She looked up to see Andre take a bite. His eyes were showing no more regrets in life, as if he had found the reason for living.

Citty Kat had looked at Gumdrop.

"Did you wanna try it?"

Gumdrop glances back to the burger. She picks it up in as much of a dignified manner as one can have while eating a burger. Finding the perfect bite, the texture floods in first. The flavor then seeps through the grease and various juices. The synergy creates a medley of different emotions and experiences all at once.

"Good, right?" Gumdrop snaps back to reality. Andre is most halfway done with his. Citty Kat is sitting there with an expectant smile on their face. "You liked it, right?"

Gumdrop chews a bit more thoughtfully, savoring every last sensation this burger intended to bring.

"Hm... This..." She couldn't help but ponder, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "This might be the best burger I've ever had."

Citty Kat's smile somehow grew even wider. They chew off the end of a fry in satisfaction.

"Wait but, where's your burger?" Andre began. "Why are you only eating the fries?"

"Oh, I don't like burgers." Replied Citty Kat. "I only really eat the fries and nuggets." They continued to munch on some more fries.

Gumdrop glances at Andre and then turns her attention back to Citty Kat. "So if you weren't going to eat the burgers from the burger place, why bring us? What is the point of anything?"

Citty Kat shrugged their shoulders. "Well, because it's fun! You guys try new things with me and I get to eat my favorite food! Win win!" Citty Kat grinned.

A look of confusion spreads across Andre's face followed by realization. Gumdrop let's out a sigh. They continue to eat in peace, Citty Kat rambling on about their day, Andre chiming in with facts about Pokemon, and Gumdrop sitting idly, listening to her two new friends while eating her new favorite burger.

how would one of your OCs react to a HUGE burger and delicious seasoned french fries?

[estcaligo]

Sebek's scars

Sebek x reader, romantic A/N Technically, this shouldn't be a part of my I Love Everything About You series because it's not in the right format. But a sudden drabble formed in my head while I was rereading Sebek's Scales this morning, so I've decided to include it as a special piece.

Sebek's scales are a wonderful idea, but I need to talk about his scars.

I mentioned once his lightning scars from using his unique magic, but what about his regular ones? He has been through intense training, survival camps, combat practice, and weapon mastery. There have to be some scars on his body.

So I find myself wondering - do they (Lilia, Mama Zigvolt, or Baul) erase these marks with magic, or do they let them remain? I hope they don't remove them.

Because then, you could trace them, kiss them, and tell him how strong he is. And he'd become all smug about it, proudly recounting the stories behind each one.

Of course, he'd mention Malleus at least ten times, declaring that it's an honor to bear these marks - medals of valor earned in the service of protecting his king.

But then, as your hand gently traces along his body, you notice a small scar that appears fresh. Before you can ask about it, he suddenly tenses, trying to cover it up, his usual bravado faltering. For the first time, you catch a glimpse of shyness in his movements.

"I'm sorry, does that hurt?" you ask softly, making sure his reaction isn't caused by pain.

"No, pain is not the matter here" he replies, trying to sound indifferent.

"Oh, good. Then… what's the story behind this one?" you're careful with your question, but try to meet his eyes.

He hesitates for a few moments before finally saying "This one is because of you."

"What? I-I'm so sorry!" your first reaction is panic, as he doesn't elaborate. "D-did I hurt you somehow? If I did, then I'm really s-”

"Ha! As if a weak human like you could hurt me!" his bravado returns as he smirks.

Then, taking your hand, he presses it gently against the scar.

"This one," he says "is from when I saved you from that darkness during our dream-hopping journey! You're such a weak human - what were you thinking, jumping in there…?"

You remember that moment, when Sebek had actually saved your life - one of many, many times. He has never mentioned scars obtained because of you before, though. Is that why he was acting nervous?

"Oh… I see. Thank you, Seb, and… I am sorry." you slowly start to pull your hand away from his body, but he suddenly grabs it, holding it firmly as he meets your gaze.

"Stop apologizing! Or do you think such a trifle is something to worry about for me?" his voice is a little louder than before, and you notice a hint of blush on his cheeks.

"I'm just sorry that you have to bear it because of me now…" you murmur, still sounding guilty.

"Were you listening to me just now? Or are your human ears too weak for even my voice to reach them?!"

You blink at him in confusion. His grip on your hand tightens slightly.

"I just said that bearing scars for protecting those who are dear is a great honor for a warrior!"

"But that was about Lord Malleus-"

"About Lord Malleus, of course. But also…" his voice drops to a quieter tone. "This applies to you, too."

For a moment, there's only silence between you, the weight of his words settling like a promise.

"As long as these scars mean you are safe, I shall bear them as my armor. Do you understand?" his gaze is still locked on you - serious and unwavering.

And you return his steadfast look with a gentle smile, leaning in to draw him into your embrace.

"Bear your armor with pride then, my warrior." you whisper. "And I will make sure no scar ever reaches your heart."

[deansbeer]

off limits ・ JASON TEAGUE. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

୨୧ synopsis. you visit jason at his first football game as an assistant coach, and after his team wins, he takes you in his office—reckless, desperate, and forbidden. but when lana finds out, everything shatters. now, caught in the fallout of your affair, you and jason must face the consequences.

୨୧ warning(s). smut | fem!reader | cheating | praising | unprotected sex (wrap it up) | semi-public sex | light dominance | slight degradation | established affair | bad decision making | tension | recklessness | big time secrecy | confrontation | emotional tension | getting caught | angst | heartbreak.

୨୧ word count. 1.5k

୨୧ kari notes. listen, i don't condone cheating !!! but when it comes to lana … it's justifiable. so save the bitching, i'm entitled to my own opinion and have my reasons for disliking her <3 now that we got that out of the way! this is my first ever jason teague fic and i'm down astronomically bad for him.

the friday night lights shine bright over the smallville high football field, the crowd buzzing with energy as the game wraps up. the crows just won—another victory under assistant coach jason teague's belt.

you watch from the bleachers, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on your lips as you spot him down on the field. he's all confidence, shaking hands with players, clapping them on the back, his spiky sandy blonde hair slightly damp from sweat.

he invited you tonight—nothing unusual, just a casual you should come watch the game when you last saw him.

but there's nothing casual about the way his eyes find yours through the crowd, lingering just a second too long before he turns away.

nothing casual about the way your stomach tightens, your skin prickling with heat.

because jason teague isn't just anyone.

he's your good friend. nothing more.

not to mention, he's also dating lana lang.

but that doesn't stop the way your body reacts when he pulls you aside after the game, leading you through the halls of smallville high, past empty classrooms and dark corridors, until you're standing in front of his office.

"you coming in?" he asks, voice low, gaze heavy.

you should say no.

but you don’t.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, he's on you.

his hands are firm, gripping your waist, pulling you against him, and his mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that's all heat and hunger.

"fuck, i've been thinking about this all night," he mutters against your lips, hands sliding down to grab your ass, pressing you harder against him.

you let out a soft gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"jason," you breathe, "someone could—"

"don't care," he cuts you off, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your skin. "you think i could focus on that game with you sitting up in the stands lookin' like that?"

your head tilts back as he kisses his way down, his hands already tugging at your tank top, pushing it up, exposing more skin to his touch.

"knew i had to have you the second i saw you walk through those gates," he murmurs, voice rough, "knew i wasn't gonna be able to wait."

you shiver at his words, at the sheer desperation in his tone, and then he's lifting you onto his desk, pushing between your legs, his mouth claiming yours again.

the kiss is messy, all tongue and teeth, years of restraint snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin.

"this is wrong," you whisper against his lips.

"doesn't feel wrong," he counters, hands sliding under your denim skirt, fingers tracing the lace of your panties.

you bite your lip, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

"lock the door."

he smirks, reaching back blindly, twisting the lock until it clicks.

and then he's back on you, pushing your skirt up higher, fingers slipping beneath the lace, finding you already soaked for him.

"fuck," he groans, "all this for me?"

you don't answer—not with words. instead, you reach for his belt, unfastening it with quick, eager fingers, pulling him free from his jeans.

he's hard, thick, the tip already leaking, and the sight alone makes your mouth go dry.

"tell me, baby," he urges, voice low and rough, "tell me you want this."

you meet his gaze, your breath shaky but sure.

"i want this, jay."

that's all he needs.

he pushes your panties aside, lining himself up, and then he's sinking into you, stretching you open inch by inch until he's fully seated inside you.

you both let out a low groan, his forehead dropping against yours, hands gripping your thighs as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

"shit," he mutters, "you feel so fuckin' good."

you clutch at the sides of his neck, nails digging into his skin, your body already trembling from the intensity of it all.

"move," you whisper, "fuck—please."

he doesn't make you beg twice.

his hips pull back, then snap forward, setting a deep, steady rhythm that has you gasping, your back arching against the desk.

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the quiet creak of the desk beneath you, the wet, obscene sound of him fucking into you.

it's reckless. desperate. like you both know how wrong this is, but neither of you care enough to stop.

"so tight," he grits out, "so perfect. my perfect girl."

his hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, pulling you down to meet each thrust.

you bite your lip, trying to hold in your moans, but he notices—of course he does.

"don't hold back, baby," he murmurs, "wanna hear you."

his words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you let go, moaning his name as he fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that has you seeing stars.

"jason—mm—fuck—"

"that's it, sweetheart," he groans, "love hearing you say my name."

you're close—so close you can barely breathe, your body tensing, your nails now dragging down his shoulder blades, the dip in his back.

"gonna come for me?" he teases, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, precise circles.

you nod frantically, clinging to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside you.

"then come," he commands, voice rough with need. "wanna feel you squeeze me, baby."

his words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your whole body trembling as you cry out his name.

he follows moments later, burying himself deep, groaning against your skin as he spills inside you, his grip on you tightening like he never wants to let go.

for a moment, there's nothing but heavy breathing, the sound of your racing hearts.

then, reality starts to creep back in.

he pulls back slightly, brushing hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek.

"you okay?" he asks, voice softer now.

you nod again, having trouble forming coherent sentences, still catching your breath.

he smirks, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

"damn good thing we locked that door."

you laugh, shaking your head, but you don’t move—not yet.

because despite everything, despite knowing this was probably a mistake, there's a part of you that doesn't regret it.

not one bit.

BONUS.

it was bound to happen.

smallville was too small, too full of watchful eyes and nosy mouths.

but you weren't thinking about that the next time you found yourself in jason's office, pressed up against the door, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

"missed you," he murmurs against your lips, hands already pushing beneath your shirt, fingers rough with need. "been thinking about this all damn week."

you shiver, arching into him, your own hands tugging at his belt.

"you saw me three days ago," you tease, but your voice is breathless, betraying just how much you missed him too.

"not enough," he growls, spinning you around, pressing your front against the door as he grinds against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

you bite your lip, anticipation thrumming through your veins.

"then don't waste time," you whisper.

he doesn't.

his hands yank down your jeans, your panties, just enough to free you, and then his own zipper is undone, his cock pressing against your slick heat.

"fuck, baby girl," he groans, "always so ready for me."

you barely have time to brace yourself before he's sliding inside, stretching you open in that perfect way that makes your head spin.

"oh, jay—"

"shh," he murmurs, kissing the side of your neck, "gotta keep quiet, sweetheart. wouldn't want anyone hearing, right?"

but that's exactly what happens.

because just as he starts to move, the door handle jiggles.

"jason?"

a voice.

her voice.

lana.

you freeze.

jason stills behind you, his body tense, his grip tightening on your hips.

there’s a single, agonizing beat of silence.

then—

"why is the door locked?"

you barely have time to react before jason is pulling out, his hands quick as he tugs your jeans back up, fixing his own pants in record time.

your heart is hammering in your chest, panic rising fast.

"shit," you whisper, but jason is already moving, already composing himself.

he unlocks the door, cracking it open just enough to slip out, blocking the view inside with his body.

"hey," he says, voice calm, controlled, like he wasn't just buried inside you seconds ago. "what are you doing here?"

"i was looking for you," lana says, her voice soft but suspicious. "why was the door locked?"

"just… needed a minute," jason says smoothly. "long day."

there's a pause.

"who's in there with you?" lana asks, her voice sharper now.

your stomach drops.

jason hesitates—just enough for her to push past him, stepping into the office.

and then her eyes land on you.

her face shifts in an instant—confusion, then realization, then pure devastation.

"oh my god," she breathes.

you don't move.

"lana—" jason starts, but she's already backing up, shaking her head.

"don't," she cuts him off, her voice trembling. "don't you dare, jason."

the silence is suffocating.

then, she turns, storming out of the office without another word.

you exhale, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

"goddamnit," jason mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

you swallow hard, looking at him.

"what now?"

he looks back at you, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable.

"now," he says, "we deal with it."

but the real question is—how?

៸៸៸ special tags. @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @daylighted @beausling @jasvtsc @honeyryewhiskey ⎯⎯ if you wanna be tagged in any jason content, do let me know !!!

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

OKAY SO I HAVE THOUGHTS

There is definitely someone who's probably said this better than me but here's my two cents anyway

I've played this game like twice and never really though to pay attention to where people get shot/how they die... but then I saw a piece of art and something clicked in my brain. If this was a quick in the moment shot, the placement wouldn't really matter, but this is a) a work of art and fiction b) extremely deliberate on Milton's part

Milton lets Hosea walk off - there is a long moment where Milton could have shot Hosea anywhere (the leg, head, nape). What I mean is he had a clear shot. Yet, he waited until Hosea turned around. He aimed deliberately for his chest. He had enough time to think it through and he knew for 100% that Hosea had no weapon (since he was captured). Turning around wasn't a threat. Yet, Milton still chose to act. And the creators of the game had to fully animate and decide all of this - this moment would have had to go through so many hands, from writers to animators to supervisors (so let us assume any symbolism wasn't lost on them). So, I am treating this as deliberate.

Realistically, shooting someone in the chest is the best place to kill someone. Especially over the heart. While headshots are effective, its a smaller target and far easier to miss. But, hit the heart? All that blood is suddenly not going to the brain (or anywhere for that matter) and the victim is very likely to die. Painful too because you have nerves in your both but no pain receptors in your brain - meaning Hosea could damn well probably feel that bullet (if he was real). We even see how painful this is in game (his death is pretty brutal because he has a brief few moments where he is very much alive an d dying alone in the street). Milton, being a man of the "law", definitely already knew how painful this death was - he probably even killed people this way before - so combined with the deliberate intent, Hosea died suffering, choking out his last wilting breath in a gurgled cough. Brutality chosen over execution (heart-shot instead of head-shot).

Don't even get me started on the dying breath - given that Hosea had been coughing since the start of the game, his last breath wasn't even a moment of peace. It was probably utter suffering as he choked on the very air he had desperately been trying to breathe for months.

Symbolically is an entirely different story. Up until now Dutch has pulled some crazy schemes but there is a definite shift when they come back from Guarama - which happens AFTER Hosea dies. The heart is a symbol of compassion, of virtue, of love - of having respect for your fellow man and ultimately, morals. All of which Dutch seems to have lost post-Guarama; he is a changed man who burns the world around him with every step. We see this fire symbology a few times, but most especially when Dutch leaves Arthur in the burning warehouse. Almost as if the snow we start in at the beginning melts into water without Hosea to keep it cool (ie the ocean of chapter 5) until it evaporates in the wake of Dutch's spiral into firey insanity. This is implying Hosea to be the cold/ice to Dutch's heat/fire. The death of the companion leaves behind only the passion of compassion, as Dutch is left with only conviction and no withstanding moral compass. Micah and Dutch together are only fire with fire, while Arthur manifests into ice too late, with only enough time to save the rest of the gang from Dutch's fallout.

Hosea is also not the only one who dies during this mission, he is the only one to die of a shot to the heart. Lenny also dies, but he's shot in what I can best estimate to be the guts - his guts to join up with an outlaw gang and rob a back literally led to his death. Lenny's death doesn't seem to affect Dutch as much as Hosea though - like Dutch is like "Oh no! Anyway lets keep going". But with Hosea's death - Dutch gets SUPER PISSED - that whisper of "Hosea" to himself speaks volumes more than his reaction to Lenny. Dutch was close with Hosea; whether you want to call them friends or lovers, they were narrative parallels and each other's foils. THus, it makes sense that Hosea's death had a profound impact on Dutch, far more than Lenny, and since this is a work of fiction, Hosea's death being a shot to the heart should not be taken lightly.

Hosea being shot in the heart was the symbolic death of Dutch's heart. The world took the last piece of good Dutch thought he had left - the last reason to hold back and Dutch wanted to burn the world down around him. And its even more insane that this was a deliberate act on Milton's part - while he didn't know that Hosea specifically would hurt Dutch in this way, he is a smart man. Milton had been following and researching the Van Der Linde gang for a hot minute, he knew the members, he knew the history, he knew that Dutch and Hosea went way back than most other gang members. Milton knew what he was doing - this was a deliberate attempt to dismantle the gang by "cutting the head off the snake" (making Dutch desperate and isolated with the death of his oldest partner). Especially since Dutch calls Hosea his friend right before Milton does this. What better way to drive that message home than shooting his friend in the heart - making his last moments suffering alone in the street?

While Milton had no idea how well his plan would work, shooting Hosea in the chest was a deliberate choice intended to aid in the dismantlement of the Van Der Linde gang by getting to Dutch psychologically. As a work of fiction, killing Hosea in this fashion was a choice by the creators riddled with symbolism.

[beckyninja]

Goodbyes

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemOC (formerly FemReader)

Warnings: Much Spiciness! MDNI

Description: After their victory over the forces of Chaos, Titus is finally recognized for his valor, honored... and given a less than welcome order.

I play fast and loose with canon events in this one, folks. Hope you don't mind too much. Also, after much consideration and input, I've decided to turn my Reader into an actual OC.

Meet Sera del Monte, Titus's serf and lover. (And feel free to ask any questions you have about her!)

This is a continuation of my Titus series. You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist.

“Lieutenant Demetrian Titus, your decisive actions have saved this system from ruin.”

Your heart leapt at the Chapter Master’s words. On a walkway overlooking the hangar floor, you watched Demetrian, your Demetrian, stand before the Company. As usual, his face showed little emotion. But you saw the straightening of his shoulders.

“And so it is with great pride, that I now present you with an honor worthy of your deeds.”

At your side, Vesta gasped. “Oh, Sera! Those are….”

“The Laurels of Victory.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth. Demetrian had told you of this coveted award, an honor few Ultramarines ever attained. Tears filled your eyes as he received his now-gilded helmet from the Captain. 

If anyone ever deserved this, it’s you.

“Let every warrior of the Adeptus Astartes see that here stands the true measure of a son of Guilliman.”

As the Ultramarines shouted out their battle cries, saluting the man you loved with all your heart, you felt a slim arm slip around your shoulders and squeeze.

“Such an honor to serve such a man.” Vesta whispered, a grin lighting her face.

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak past the lump in your throat. Looking back down, you drew in a startled breath to see Demetrian’s face uplifted toward yours. He’d been gone when you awoke at the start of the day cycle. You’d worried he wouldn’t know of your presence at the ceremony.

But now, even from afar, his eyes burned into yours. You put all the emotion you could into your smile.

I am so proud of you, my love.

***

He shouldn’t have looked at her. Titus knew he invited questions doing so, questions he could ill afford to answer. But he couldn’t help himself. And so, for a brief moment, he stared into the rich darkness of her eyes, saw the tears there, the smile.

Throne, the pride.

His hearts felt on the verge of bursting from his ribcage. He wanted nothing so much as to charge to where she stood and sweep her into his embrace, to let all his brothers know the woman whose compassion and devotion inspired him to such deeds.

My Little Healer. My Sera.

The heavy tread of the Chapter Master brought him back to reality.

“Forgive me brother, that it took me so long to bring you home.”

The words rocked him. “My Lord, that-”

“Fierce was my wrath when I learned of your detention.” Calgar’s face was grim, anger sparking in his single eye. “In their arrogant suspicion, the Inquisition failed to realize the truth,” the anger faded, “that no evil will ever overcome a devotion such as yours.”

Titus couldn’t breathe. His mind spun back over his centuries of torment and exile, the wounds he’d endured. Wounds of the soul. Sera had begun the healing, giving him strength to endure his darkest hours, and now the words of the Chapter Master….

He was whole again.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Calgar continued, “There is a mission. It will take you away from the 2nd Company for a time.”

“As you command, Chapter Master.”

In years past he would not have felt any hesitation. Now, he hoped this mission could be completed quickly. He didn’t relish the idea of uprooting his Little Healer yet again.

She deserves stability.

“The Brother Chaplain will brief you. It was he that suggested you for the task.”

Alarms rang in Titus’s mind.

***

You paced the floor of your and Titus’s quarters. Every surface gleamed. You’d replaced the sheets on the cot, set out fresh candles, even managed to acquire an amount of new, more fragrant incense. You reminded yourself to thank the supply serf who’d given it to you.

His robe was rather ragged. I could mend it for him.

Stepping into the attached lavatory, you examined your face in the mirror. Earlier, Vesta had chased several serfs out of the communal showers just so you could have a moment’s privacy to wash.

“This would be easier if we simply used my pass code to the Astartes’ baths.” She huffed, working the shampoo into your hair.

You ran your brush through the honey-brown locks. Perhaps she’d been right. And yet, uneasiness still filled you when you remembered the first time. 

Thank the Emperor nothing came of it. Maybe that sound was just a noisy pipe after all.

You pushed the thought from your mind and nodded at your reflection. Bright black eyes, clean, recaf-colored skin several shades lighter than it had been before you entered service. Just about as presentable as a serf with only two changes of the exact same robe could be.

After today, Titus deserved you at your very best. 

Any maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to indulge me a little? I have some ideas-

The familiar slide of metal on metal had you rushing back into the main room.

“Demetrian!”

He’d changed out of his armor. You took a moment to appreciate the way the casual robes emphasized his muscular form. His helmet, laurel crown glinting in the candlelight, hung from one hand. You smiled at him. Your gaze slid up his chest, only to stop short when you saw his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

Titus stared down at you, the eyes that had been so full of light earlier, now blank. The muscles in his jaw worked. 

You approached and laid a hand on his stomach, feeling the tension beneath the fabric. “What happened?”

He stepped past you and sat heavily on the cot, setting the helmet to one side. You moved between his spread thighs. He didn’t look at you.

“Demetrian?” Reaching out, you brushed his leathery cheek with your fingertips. “You’re frightening me.”

“I’ve been assigned a mission.”

“All right.” You shook your head. “I don’t-”

“I leave on the morrow.”

An iciness stabbed through your gut. “You mean ‘we’, don’t you? Demetrian?” He didn’t respond. “I’m your personal serf. Where you go, I go.” You tried to turn his head, to get him to look at you.

Finally, he did. “No, Sera. I go alone.”

***

“Titus. Lord Calgar has informed you of your assignment?”

Titus’s jaw tensed as he nodded. As ever, the Chaplain’s modulated voice held a note of scorn. 

“Good. You will be briefed when the Sword of Calth departs on the next day-cycle.”

The alarm bells still rang. “I am told you recommended me for this mission, Brother Chaplain.”

“I did. You have done well.” The words dripped with venom. “You have won the trust of your brothers and the Chapter Master. But know this Titus: the stain of suspicion never completely fades.”

Titus clenched his fists. He should have known.

“No matter where you go,” the Chaplain growled, “I will be watching you. Should you falter on the path for even a moment,” he removed his helmet.

It took all of Titus’s centuries of self-control to mask his shock.

Leandros’s hate-filled eyes stared back at him. “I will show no mercy. This mission is a test of your commitment, to see if you truly remain free of any and all… temptation.”

Titus’s blood ran cold. He swore he saw a flicker of dark satisfaction in his former battle brother’s gaze.

“And you will undertake it alone.”

As he saw the heartbreak in Sera’s eyes, Titus cursed the man he’d once fought alongside. He pulled her to him and rested his chin atop her head. Hot tears soaked through his robe.

“I have spoken to Brother Apothecary Callistus this day. You will report to the Apothecarion tomorrow.” He ran his hand the length of her back. “He is a decent man. He will treat you well.”

She sobbed. “Why, Demetrian?”

He buried his nose in her hair. “Could I bring you, I would, Little Healer. But it has been forbidden.”

“By who?”

He gritted his teeth. “The Chaplain.”

A sharp gasp. She pulled back, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes.

“Does he… could he-?”

“We would know if he did.” He cupped her face in his palm. “But he may suspect. I have been too careless, Warp damn it!” 

She placed her hands on his chest, bewilderment in her eyes. “Why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me?”

He sighed. No time to reveal everything now, but she deserved at least a few answers.

“Do you remember when I told you I had once endured a false accusation?”

A bittersweet smile flickered across her lips. “The day you saved me.”

He felt a corner of his mouth lift in response. “Yes.” The half-smile faded. “The Chaplain was my accuser.”

“Emperor, save us.” Her face paled.

Titus lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers. “Stay far from him, Sera.”

“I will.”

“Swear it!”

She seemed taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “I swear. By the Emperor, I swear.” 

If Leandros hurts her, a growl rumbled deep in his chest, I will kill him.

Titus looked into his Sera’s beautiful eyes, down her cloth-covered body. Only a few hours before his departure, and he didn’t dare waste them. 

He would have her one last time.

He slotted his mouth against hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. Tugging her robes from her shoulders, he salivated at the sight of her revealed form. His hands mapped her curves. 

Strange. He’d seen her, felt her, a dozen times now, yet the thrill grew no less. The sensation of his fingers sinking into the plushness of her hips, her thighs, her belly… it still stoked a hunger. 

He released her mouth and buried his face in her neck. “So soft.”

A breathless laugh. “You say that every time.”

She didn’t understand. He lived surrounded by the hard, the harsh, and the jagged. To feel her smooth roundness under his skin was a blessed relief. One he’d spent most of his life as an Astartes not knowing he needed. 

He slid his hands up her torso, pausing just at the top of her ribcage. There he waited, needing to know she wanted this as much as he.

Her small hands stroked over his, urging them up… up… until they cupped the heavy swells of her breasts.

Titus gave a rumbling groan and leaned back. He watched her arch, eyes closing as she pushed her chest further into his hands. The delicate flesh gave beneath his scarred, calloused fingers. He kneaded, thumbs running over her hardening nipples.

Throne of Terra… the sounds she makes….

How had he gone centuries without the feel of a woman’s breasts in his hands? So many sensations he’d never dreamed of before. Only for a tiny baseline woman to utterly upend his ordered life and show him what he’d been missing.

“Ohhhh, Demetrian.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip as he moved his thumbs in slow circles.

He knew what she liked. The thought sent a flood of pride through him. He could spend hours like this, tracing his hands over the body she willingly surrendered to him. But there wasn’t time. There was never enough time.

So Titus stripped himself of his own robe and laid her back against the thin mattress. But when he moved to settle atop her, a small hand pressed in the center of his chest.

“W-wait.”

He froze. In his ardor, had he hurt her in some way? All it would take was a single careless motion on his part.

She must have recognized the look on his face, because her hand shifted to cup his cheek. “Nothing’s the matter, love. I just… I was wondering….”

He followed the blush blooming across her face and chest. When she looked away, he tilted her head back.

“What is it?”

She gnawed her lip. “There’s something… I once heard that… um, can we try something new?”

She’d already shown him all the pleasure two bodies could experience together. What more could there possibly be?

When she finally managed to tell him what she wanted, amidst much stammering and a deepening blush, his eyes widened. 

“With…my mouth?”

She covered her face with her hands. “No, no, never mind! We don’t have to! Throne, I just thought- Demetrian?!”

Grasping her sides, his fingers meeting around her soft middle, he slid her further up the cot, shifting himself down at the same time. His hearts pounded as her center came into view. Already her inner thighs glistened with moisture, the fragrance threatening to overwhelm his olfactory system. He stared for a long moment, breathing her in, thoughts racing. This was unfamiliar territory. 

Yet he would never admit defeat.

“Demetrian? If you don’t want to-”

A frontal assault.

Spreading her thighs, he buried his face between them and drank like a man dying of thirst. He lapped without skill or direction, yet the sounds she made told him he was doing something correctly.

Pursue objective.

Titus’s hands found her hips and pulled. He felt the pressure of her pubic bone against his face. His nose brushed a small, familiar bud and she squealed.

Target acquired.

Her bucking hips nearly slipped from his hands when he drew his tongue across the nub. 

“Demetrian!”

He felt fingers dig into his hair, the sensation sending his eyes rolling in their sockets. He licked faster, then slower, judging his efforts by the volume of her cries and the pleasurable sting of her little nails against his scalp. He plunged his tongue deep within.

Her body tightened, her cries reaching a familiar pitch.

Victory… Emperor be praised….

Titus feasted. Only when her whimpers sounded more of pain than pleasure did he relent, rearing up onto his knees and looming over her. He felt her juices drip over his chin.

She lay trembling before him, thighs still splayed, hands pressed over her face. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted. 

“Throne,” he rasped, “I could live a full millennium and never tire of this sight. Was that what you wanted, Little Healer?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Hands falling to her sides, she gave him a shaky smile. “D-did you… like it?”

He searched for words. Something to explain exactly what she made him feel. The pleasure he took in giving her pleasure. The pride. The love buried so deep he’d swear it was etched upon his bones.

Warp damn it. I am no poet.

“I did.”

Her face nuzzled against his throat. He braced himself with a forearm above her head, the other hand curling around her hip.

“Tired, Little Healer?”

“A little.”

“Should we stop?” 

Her whine brought a smile to his lips. In one fluid movement he surged up over her, sliding the hand at her hip under her rear, lifting her lower body until it ground against his throbbing length.

“Sera….”

***

You trembled at the press of him against your fluttering core. You always trembled. No matter how many times you gave yourself to him, you believed you always would. Even more so when he growled your name.

Have I ever told him what that voice does to me?

Desire flared anew in your lower belly. You planted your feet on the mattress and pressed yourself harder against him. Part of you felt shamed by the action. So eager, so lustful. Then he groaned and all thoughts of modesty fled.

“Demetrian, I want you!”

Hooking his hands beneath your knees, he pressed them up and back. The stretch burned, but oh, did you love it. A single thrust and you split wide for him. The hot, aching fullness drove a shuddering gasp from your lungs. 

He gasped your name again. “Sera!”

You were ruined. No mortal man could match this. You belonged to the Angels now. To this Angel.

Moans fell from your lips as he began his rhythm. Strong and smooth and oh so deep. His huge hands held you to him with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes. Craning your neck, you watched his face.

Eyes shut. Jaw slack.

This mighty Angel of the Emperor had dropped his guard, made himself vulnerable, all because of you. 

You ran your hands along his impossibly broad chest. You traced each scar, each neural port, marvelling at the sheer strength and power of him. He should terrify you. And yet you never felt safer than when you lay shadowed by his bulk.

He was your protector, your shelter, your love.

For the thousandth time, you blessed the Emperor’s generosity in sharing one of his chosen warriors with you. For the thousandth time you vowed to be worthy of such a gift, to return Titus’s devotion with every fiber of your being.

Words mingled with your moans. “I’m yours, Demetrian. Yours. All yours.”

He snarled. His thrusts quickened, losing some of their rhythm. A knot tightened in your belly. His roar drowned out your scream as he filled you.

And that was only the beginning. 

Time lost all meaning, devolving into wave after wave of pleasure until you couldn’t even wail his name anymore. You felt his mouth at your breasts, his teeth at your neck, his hands everywhere as he turned and twisted you as he pleased.

Your nostrils filled with the acrid tang of Astartes sweat, mingling with the salt of your own. Tears ran from your eyes, drool from your lips. Your lower body grew sodden.

More. More. Please!

At last, with a final groan and flood between your thighs, Titus collapsed beside you. Dazed, you barely felt him drag you up onto his chest, like he had that first night, so many nights past.

“Mine.”

His rumbling purr sent a shiver down your spine. All you managed to do in response was tilt your head until you looked into deep blue eyes, hoping he could read the message therein.

I love you.

What were you going to do without him?

You awoke still cradled in his arms. “Mmm. Demetrian?”

“Yes, Sera?” His voice held no trace of sleep.

“How long have you been awake?”

A sigh. “Too long. I should not linger.”

Your body tensed. Part of you hoped his words last night had been part of an awful dream. Reality shattered those hopes.

“You’re leaving.”

“I must.” The metal of his neural ports rasped against your skin as he sat up, still holding you. “Never before have I hesitated to do my duty.”

In the low light of a few smoldering candles, you reached up and touched his face. “You should go.”

His embrace tightened, then released. You stood and searched for your far flung garments. You didn’t want him to see the tears in your eyes. This would not be the last time duty took him from your side.

I refuse to be a hindrance.

“Sera.”

“I’ll be alright, Demetrian. Vesta speaks highly of her lord and I….” Your throat closed.

A thick, muscled arm wrapped around your waist and drew you back to his chest. You felt him press his face into your mussed hair, heard his deep inhales.  

He’s taking my scent.

A thought sparked. “Demetrian, give me a moment.”

Fetching the little shears from your sewing kit, you rushed to the lavatory. It took mere moments to braid a lock of hair and snip it close to the roots. You returned to Titus’s side and held out the token.

“It’s all I can give.”

The braid looked impossibly small in his hands. He cradled it as if afraid it would disintegrate.

“This is a gift beyond price.” The solemnity in his voice made you blush. “And it must be reciprocated.”

“You don’t have to-”

He held up a hand, and you fell silent, watching as he lifted his helmet. You cried out when he wrenched a golden leaf free of the embedded laurel crown. 

“Demetrian, no!”

Slipping to one knee on the metal floor, he took your hand and pressed the leaf into it. “I made an oath once, to never let you come to harm. I make another now.” A deep breath. “I, Demetrian Titus, Lieutenant of the 2nd Company of the Ultramarines, Son of Guilliman, swear to you, Sera del Monte, that I will bear your token always. It will be a symbol and a reminder to return to you. Though all the daemons of the Warp stand in my way, I will return.”

Your tears ran freely. “Oh, Demetrian.” You pressed the leaf to your heart. “I will string this around my neck, and it will be my symbol and reminder to wait for you. I will never falter.”

That is my oath.

***

Titus felt your presence, like a little shadow, trailing behind him as he made his way to the hangar. He brushed the new reliquary tied at the waist of his armor. It contained a treasure more holy to him than all the bones and relics of all the saints combined, heretical as that might be.

How he wished he could pull you into one of the many alcoves lining the walls and taste you one last time. Yet, he knew if he surrendered to such impulses, he would never leave. 

And his duty awaited.

Your footsteps halted at the top of the stairway leading down to the hangar floor. He forced himself not to look back as he made his way toward the Chapter Master’s Thunderhawk. 

Movement to one side caught his attention. Sgt. Gadriel and Brother Chairon.

“Brothers,” he clasped their hands, “I am called to serve elsewhere.”

Chairon spoke first. “You will be missed, my lord.”

“I will not forget the blood we have drawn together.”

“Nor shall we.”

“I owe you both a debt.” Titus felt a surge of affection for his squadmates, his brothers. “You have restored my faith in brotherhood.”

“We shall await your return.” Gadriel’s expression was almost mournful.

Suddenly, an idea formed. “I would ask a favor of you both, if I may.”

An eager light came into the blond Ultramarine’s eyes. “Of course, brother.”

Titus gestured to the top of the stairs, where his Sera stood. “I have been instructed to leave my serf behind. She has been reassigned to the Apothecarion.”

“The little one will be left alone?” Chairon frowned.

Gadriel did as well. “You… wish us to look after her, brother?”

“There is no one I would trust more.”

The sergeant looked embarrassed. Chairon nodded.

“She will come to no harm under our watch, my lord. I swear it.”

Titus felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Stepping back, he struck his breastplate in the Ultramarine salute.

“Courage and honor!”

His brothers repeated the cry, and Titus walked to the Thunderhawk’s lowered ramp. He did not see the skull-helmeted figure loom up behind the woman he loved.

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[cozmowrites]

forever

forever - noah kahan

(request)

+++++

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the quiet streets of the city. The evening air was cool, a gentle breeze that hinted at the approaching night. You were sitting on the back porch, your legs tucked under you, as you gazed out at the horizon. It had been a long week, and the quiet moments like this, when everything slowed down, were becoming more precious than ever.

Your mind wandered, not to work or chores, but to him. Katsuki Bakugou. Your husband.

The sound of the door opening broke your reverie, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You could hear his heavy footsteps, the thud of his boots on the wooden floor. Then came the familiar gruff voice.

"Oi, what're you doing out here?"

You smiled softly, still not facing him. "Just thinking as per usual."

"About what?" His voice had softened, a rare but cherished tone that always made your heart flutter.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm not sure. Just... everything."

Katsuki moved closer, his presence settling beside you like a protective force. He sat down next to you, careful not to crowd your space, but close enough for you to feel his warmth. His hand found yours, fingers brushing against yours before he laced them together, the gesture always comforting in its simplicity.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the world around you seeming to hold its breath. The only sound was the wind rustling the trees and the occasional car passing by.

After a while, you turned your head to glance at him, his sharp eyes focused on the sunset but soft in a way that was so rare for him. His usual intensity was muted, replaced with something calmer, something more familiar. A look that you knew meant he was here. For you. For this.

"I'm glad we're here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shifted, tilting his head to meet your gaze. "Yeah? Thought I told you I wasn't gonna let you go anywhere, didn't I?"

You smiled, leaning into him a little, letting your shoulder rest against his. "You did."

Katsuki's grip on your hand tightened just a fraction. "Damn right I did. You're stuck with me now."

The playful teasing in his voice made you laugh, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything seemed lighter. You'd been through so much together, and yet, here you were. Married. Still going strong. There were times when things had felt uncertain, when you'd both wondered if the struggles would ever end, but you always came back to this. Each other.

You squeezed his hand gently, the smile never fading from your lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

He let out a short grunt, his expression softening even further. "Good. I don't plan on letting you."

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. The city was quiet now, save for the distant hum of life, but it was peaceful. You could've stayed there forever, in this perfect stillness, but you knew life didn't work that way. There were always challenges, always moments of doubt or worry.

But with him by your side, you had come to realize something important: it didn't matter how many times the world tried to knock you down. It didn't matter how hard things got. As long as the two of you were together, you'd always find a way through. Always.

"Hey, Katsuki," you said after a long pause, your voice steady. "Do you ever wonder what forever really means?"

His eyes flickered toward you, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. "What do you mean?"

"Like... when people say they want something to last forever. Do you think it's possible?" You paused, trying to put the question into words. "I guess I've just been thinking about us... and how time is always moving, and yet here we are. It feels like no matter what, we're always going to be together. Does that make sense?"

Katsuki didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked out at the sky again, his jaw tightening for a moment. You thought he might avoid the question or brush it off with one of his usual sarcastic comments, but instead, he squeezed your hand and gave a quiet response.

"Yeah. It makes sense."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah." His gaze softened as he turned back to you, his voice low but firm. "I don't know if forever is some magical thing, but I know this much: I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. We've been through too much together, and I'm not letting go. Not when I've got you."

You felt your chest tighten, a warmth spreading through you as his words settled in. He wasn't the type to express things in grand gestures or flowery speeches, but the sincerity in his voice was more than enough.

You leaned into him again, your head resting against his shoulder as you closed your eyes. "I guess forever isn't about time," you murmured. "It's about us."

"Yeah," he muttered, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "That's more like it."

For a long moment, the two of you just sat there, wrapped in the silence of the evening. It was peaceful, the world spinning on while you stayed anchored in this one moment. The sunset faded, and the first stars began to appear in the sky, but you didn't move. There was no rush. No need to go anywhere.

You had everything you needed right here.

+++

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[lady-of-tearshed]

Coming out

@sjmprideweek

Day 5: Family

Pairing: Azriel centered, but mention of Azris.

Summary: Azriel announces that he's seeing someone to his family.

Word count: 1.5k words

Warnings: Someone drinking alcohol, someone choking on alcohol (no one dies), innuendo of sex.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 💙

“I've recently discovered I was into males.” 

That, Azriel concluded, was definitely one way to get his family's attention. 

Eight pairs of eyes pivoted in his direction. Only Nyx seemed unbothered by this revelation, far too young and carefree to give a damn about anything else than the colorful fruit puree splattered in front of him. 

Cassian, always the biggest mouth of the Inner Circle, was the first to break the silence. “It's a… new discovery?” 

“Yes.” 

Cassian, as difficult to imagine, looked at his brother with an even more confused expression. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, and then the look on his face turned from one of confusion to one of mid-amusement. “Weren't you already into guys?” 

This time, it was Azriel's turned to he confused. “What?” 

“Yeah, you know,” Cassian started counting on his fingers. “The guy that bought you a drink at Rita's a few weeks ago? The one you wouldn't stop looking into his big russet eyes. I thought you had gone back with him at the end of the night. Or the other one, freckled one, with the slumped rear, last month. The one that bought you the coffee and wrote his name on the cup-” 

“Cassian,” Rhysand half-scolded his brother, stopping him in his overflowing river of information, and saving Azriel from the embarrassment. 

Azriel couldn't believe how blind he had been to all the cues of his male attraction. It seemed obvious to him, now, that someone not into males wouldn't have admitted to his brother how scrumptious the ass of the male from the cafe near The Rainbow was. That, right there, had been one hell of a clue Azriel should've picked on. That and the fact that even though he didn't, he had wished, only for a short, confusing moment, that he had gone home with that other male from Rita's a few weeks ago. 

Azriel probably would've discovered his male attraction a long time ago (probably before Eris had wrapped his Cauldron blessed lips around his shaft) if he had been able to pull his head away from work and his own personal worries, he realized. 

“Well next time we go to Rita's, I'll make sure you go home with a pretty male,” Cassian announced, dismissing Rhysand's warning with a wave of his hand. 

“Oh,” Azriel blinked, furrowing his brows as he tried to look for the right words. “That won't be necessary.” He settled with, hoping that Cassian (by some kind of miracle) would just drop the subject and move on with his life-

“Why, of course it is! Maybe that would help you get that broomstick out of your ass-” 

“No.”

“Or some other lucky male’s ass?”

“I'm… already seeing someone.” 

Amren choked on her wine. Morrigan, as swift as an arrow, jolted up from her seat to pat her friend’s back and telling her to keep coughing. Amren’s face, still red from the gulp that half went down the wrong pipe, turned slowly into the blond’s direction. The glare she threw at her friend seemed to come from the deepest depths of the Cauldron. If a look could kill, Morrigan would’ve been slayed on the spot. 

Once recovered from her near death experience, Amren spoke up. “Do they know you’re gay?”

Cassian frowned. “Actually, doesn’t that make him bisexual? Since he’s into males and-.”

“Do they know.” Amren repeated, her voice as sharp as Azriel’s most treasured weapon.

“Of course they do,” He answered quite coldly. He was half hurt that his family would even assume that he would be cold-hearted enough to be romantically involved with someone and hide parts of himself from them. Besides, why was this any of their business? He started to wonder why he even cared being honest with them if it only meant for him to receive such a cold reaction. “Also, they are a male. And no, Cas, I do not think that makes me bisexual. Well, yes. Perhaps,” He looked down at his plate, moved some vegetables around as he tried to figure it out. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.” 

Some looks were exchanged amongst the people gathered at this table. After what felt like a never ending period of heavy and uncomfortable silence, someone’s chair scrapped on the floor. 

Azriel looked up to see Rhysand moving around the table, and before he could analyze wether it was to throttle him or something else, his brother’s arms were circling his neck in a firm, yet gentle embrace. 

“I’m glad you found someone,” Rhysand said, grunting a little when Cassian joined the group hug, his weight crushing both males.

“When can we meet him?” Cassian asked, his tone nearly buzzing with excitement.  

Azriel tensed. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.” 

“Why?” Nesta asked cautiously from her seat, where she still sat. 

“Az…” Feyre rectified quickly. “We wouldn’t have any reasons why meeting him wouldn’t be a good idea-”

“Is he unkind?” Nesta blatantly ignored her sister’s too-soft approach. 

“No! No,” Azriel quickly answered, half afraid the eldest Archeron would bite his head off if he avoided the topic. “He is very kind… when you get to know him.” 

“Then I don’t see any problem there,” Feyre offered him a comforting smile.

Azriel’s insides felt like they were on fire. He knew he’d have to announce the inevitable truth sooner than later. His family was nosy enough to figure it out by themselves quickly, and telling them before they could find out would be preferable and cause less damage. 

“We will accept this male into our lives no matter what, brother,” Rhysand squeezed his shoulder. 

“So long as he treats you right,” Added Cassian, his eyes glimmering with emotions and unshed tears. 

“He’s-” Azriel bit his lip, hesitating. “He’s from another Court. He’s… different.” 

“Like I said,” Rhysand’s eyes bore into Azriel’s, his face and heart as open and honest as can be. “We’ll accept him, no matter what.” 

“Even if he’s a High Lord?” 

At that, Cassian tensed, his eyes narrowed. “Mother’s tits Az… Don’t tell me it’s Helion? You know he has a…” Cassian paused, his eyes traveling to the other side of the table, where a red-headed male sat calmly beside Elain. “Reputation.” 

Azriel almost laughed out loud. Helion was indeed one lovely High Lord, but he was not the one who fought to earn his heart. He opened his mouth to finally be honest about who that mysterious male he’s seeing is when someone does it for him. 

“It’s Eris, isn’t it?” 

All eyes turned to Nesta, then widened when they looked back in Azriel’s direction only to see the slightest shade of pink coloring the Illyrian’s cheeks. 

“Yes, it is,” As if it needed clarifications, Azriel added. “Eris. Eris Vanserra.” 

And for a moment, Azriel actually started to worry about Rhysand’s poor, old heart. 

“Oh, Azriel!” Nesta exclaimed, “Those are wonderful news!”

She nearly crashed into him, shoving the two males aside to take her turn at hugging him. 

As she hugged him, Azriel’s shadows informed him of the look that meant something similar to ‘If you dare say something hurtful about it, I’ll kill you’ Nesta gave Rhysand. When Nesta slowly untangled herself from Azriel, Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Well,” He said, his pale looking more pale than usual and his voice sounding shaky. Rhysand wanted to rip the earth in half and curse the Mother for his brother’s awful taste in males, but he didn’t. He was a male of honor, and already assured his brother (two times, no less) that he would accept this male no matter what. So. “Do you… Like him?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Azriel said, his heart open and honest. A strange, yet positive, feeling wrapped around his heart and made his face turn warm every time he thought of the male. “We’re not really something. Just… seeing each other and figuring things out as we go.” 

“If he breaks your heart,” Cassian snarled, looking at the other Vanserra present in the room as if he had personally hurt him, “I’ll make sure his heart will be slowly and painfully ripped out of his pretty neck. Then I’ll feed it to his Gods damned dog.” 

“He won’t,” Lucien spoke up for the first time since the beginning of this family gathering. “When a Vanserra loves, or cares, it does fiercely,” His gaze turned to Elain and softened. “And unconditionally.” 

Azriel held back from rectifying that what was between him and Eris wasn’t love, but… The more he thought about it, the more he started thinking that, yes, it could be love, It could grow as something fierce, and unconditional. But for now, they were figuring themselves out. 

“Then it is more than we could ask for,” Feyre stated, her voice firm and true. “We’re all delighted for you, Azriel.”

“Yes,” Rhysand said, smiling. Cassian nodded alongside him. “We are.”

And that was more than anything Azriel could’ve hoped for, his family’s love and support.

ACOTAR general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103

Azris taglist: @g00seg1rl

[yandere-fics]

♡ Kassien Adopts An Omega ♡

(also i've been slowly working up the courage to finally touch the age regression fics sitting in my inbox so they're there just not sure if everyone can act normal about things they aren't personally into.)

Omega shelters were considered an unfortunate and necessary evil within the city for many alphas, not something pretty to have to think about but unfortunately there were many omegas who could not survive without assistance from an alpha and thus wound up in the shelter. Supernatural weren't too fond of them because the thought of other human alphas coming in and possibly trying to get their omega set them on edge even though they knew that they hadn't even been in the city at the time their omega went into the shelter as most of the supernatural's in the city weren't even born here and human alphas weren't too happy with the idea of maybe accidentally taking home an omega only for a supernatural to come and kill them later because the shelter hadn't done it's due diligence in making sure you didn't have a soulmate somewhere. Still despite all the complaints about them they had been around for a very long time, long enough for fraudulent shelters to pop up and lie to omegas telling them all the state run ones were full up and they'd have to take what they could get with a low quality one. These ones often only took four or five at a time trying to fly under the radar and often even forced the omegas inside to do all the house chores telling them they had to prepare for an alpha to take them and need them for chores. Kassien shuddered at the thought of her mate being in one of those but she'd been searching for her omega for quite some time now with no luck in government shelters and so she was left just to search the sketchy ones. She had tried just flying around to pick up her omega's scent but hadn't caught a whiff so more than likely you were at a shelter with a scent blocking collar on. She would have asked the boss but she wasn't too keen on having to work overtime when she should have just been enjoying her time with her mate getting you acclimatized to her apartment so she was stuck searching in run down places that clearly were not treating their omega's very good. She took mental notes of every one she found so the omega's could be relocated but she didn't want the others to be afraid to let her in because then she wouldn't be able to save her omega so those ones would have to wait to be reported. It was only on maybe her sixth sketchy underground place that had been nearly impossible to find, she knew she found it mostly based on just how angry the place made her feel. Sure enough you had indeed been in there. It wasn't a great idea to scare you right away but she just couldn't help snapping the home owners neck in front of everyone for what they'd done to her mate, taking you with and leaving the rest of the omegas to cower waiting for the government to come and take them to real shelters.

She knew you weren't going to warm up to her quickly, you weren't used to having and alpha and the place you were living in had obviously been cruel towards you considering how much you flinched when she moved towards you too quick or when she raised her voice a pitch but she'd still expected you to feel a bit safer around her since she saved you and you were soulmates, even when she tried to used her powers to make you feel sleepy as she cuddled you, you were stiff as a board until you eventually fell asleep. Patience really was key with a scared omega though, she'd wait for you to warm up to her, for now she'd just do her best to take care of you. Maybe you were scared to ask for nesting material but your eyes lit up when she gave you stuff first and maybe you were scared to ask her to make you food at first, but the moment she made it a command to always ask her to cook you got used to that rule pretty quickly. Even during her rut you were still willing to let her mate you and by the end it seemed like your stiffness was melting away. Maybe you didn't talk to her very much but she was sure you would get there eventually. You even agreed to call her daddy after the first few weeks so patience really was the key and luckily for you, your alpha was very patient.

[solitaireships]

Pulled From the Abyss

I've been working on this fic for a long while now, and it's finally ready to go! I wanted to do my take on the reunion between the PC and their love interest near the end of the game, so this is based on that and focused on Minala, Bellara, and Emmrich

Rating: Teen

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Words: 3606 words

Divider by saradika

Content warning: talk about death, mentions of the possible end of the world

⚠️ Note this contains spoilers for events following the point of no return of Veil.guard! ⚠️

The first time Minala understands Solas is as she treks through the Fade prison, surrounded by her regrets. Neve and Harding both loom over her, lifeless statues that say the exact things she’s scared they would say if they could. She thinks she might have been willing to do anything to get out of here too, though it’s still hard for her to be too sympathetic towards the man who trapped her here, manipulating her grief and shock at Varric’s death to control her.  

She can’t stay here forever. It’s bad enough being surrounded by her regrets, having all of her fears that she’s let others down magnified to the point where they almost become suffocating. It would be easy to give up, and let her guilt at everything she could have done differently keep her chained in this spot in the Fade forever.

But Minala knows there’s no point in letting her regrets drown her. Neve and Harding made their choices— they knew what was at stake, and they knew that they ran the risk of not making it back alive. All of them knew that they might not make it out of their encounter with Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. But they were willing to take that chance if it meant stopping them, and if it meant saving all of Thedas. They did what they felt they had to, and Minala knows they wouldn’t have wanted her to let their sacrifices mean nothing. The best way to honor them is by forging ahead, finding a way out of this prison, and finishing what they had started.

It’s just a matter of how to escape the Fade. Solas had only managed to escape by using Minala, performing blood magic to manipulate her into taking his place. But Minala’s sure that there has to be some way to get out, it’s just a matter of what. She’s not an expert in the Fade, but every Watcher at least learns the basics. It’s not uncommon for spirits to be able to slip through the Veil, making it out into the living world. She imagines that what’s called a Fade prison presumably is harder to escape, especially if it used to contain elven gods, but there has to be some way out.

So Minala searches. She roams through the sea of floating rocks and twisting paths, the dream-like environment that almost looks like it could be real but it always looks just a little off in a way she can’t place. The colors of everything here are muted, as though the world has been filtered through a sea of gray and brown. Hints of color peek through, but it’s as if they have to fight against the dark of the Fade to even exist. 

Minala doesn’t know how long she keeps looking. She knew that it wouldn’t be so easy finding a tear in the Fade or spot where it’s thin enough that she might be able to rip her way out. But the longer she looks for a way out, the harder it is to keep her motivation up. She knows she can’t give up, but the idea of it gets more tempting the longer she looks, finding no way to escape. 

But hope comes before she can get lost in the futility of her situation. Emmrich’s voice cuts through the haze of the Fade, a moment of clarity that’s sharp enough to pierce through anything else. 

“This way. It’s thinner here!” There’s a pause as the Fade seems to flicker and shift ahead of her, almost looking as though it’s tearing itself apart at the seams. Then Emmrich’s voice comes again, louder now. “There! A light!”

Minala moves closer to the rip in the Fade, wondering if she’s approaching it in time with Emmrich. She can at least hear that he’s there— she wonders if Bellara is too. The thought of seeing her partners again is more than enough to urge her forward, to give her the final push she needed to leave everything here behind. 

She can’t change the past. She can’t save everyone. But sitting here and stewing in her regrets isn’t the right way to honor Neve and Harding. They wouldn’t have wanted their sacrifices to have meant nothing, and they wouldn’t have wanted her to give up. They knew the risks of the mission, just like everyone else did. And the best thing she can do now is keep moving forward rather than letting herself be held back by her regrets.

Minala’s made mistakes. She’ll probably make more. But all she can do is hope every day to do better, and that there’s still time to try to fix things. 

As she gets closer to the rift in the Fade, a familiar gleaming array of rings and bangles on a thin arm comes through the almost blinding light. It stands out sharply against the muted grays and browns of the Fade, a beacon to come even closer to it. Minala would recognize Emmrich’s jewelry anywhere— it shines along his arm, calling her closer.

“Darling? Are you there? Take my hand if you can!” Emmrich calls. His voice is muted and warped, almost like she’s hearing him from underwater, but still it’s a relief. 

“I’m here!” Minala says, though she has no idea if he can actually hear her or not. She hopes he can as she closes the distance between her and the rift, reaching out for his hand.

As Minala’s fingers twine with Emmrich’s, she hears a relieved laugh escape him. “Bellara! My love, I found her!”

“You did?” Bellara’s voice comes next, distant at first and still with that muted quality Emmrich’s has, but drawing closer. “You did! Come on, let’s get her out!”

Emmrich’s grip tightens on Minala’s hand, his other hand reaching out to take hers too.

“Come back to me, dearest. We all need you far more than you could ever realize,” he says, voice low enough that she’s not entirely sure if she was supposed to hear that. 

Bellara’s voice keeps Minala from thinking about that for long, though. “Alright, if we pull hard together we should be able to get her out!”

Minala’s not entirely sure what she should do to help them get her out, but she closes her eyes and hopes for the best as she feels Emmrich pulling her forward. It’s a sharp tug, no doubt helped along by Bellara. For a moment it’s as though the Fade too is trying to pull her, to keep her trapped here. But Minala reminds herself that she can’t stay here, not when there are people who still need her on the other side. Not when her partners are here to save her.

When Minala stumbles out from the Fade rift, she all but collapses into Emmrich’s arms. It’s strange to be on even footing again, to no longer be lost in a world that both feels like reality and yet distinctly not at the same time. But Emmrich is real, and he’s warm and solid in her arms. He wraps her in a tight hug, hands grasping at her as if to confirm that he really managed to find her. 

“Emmrich,” she breathes out.

“Minala,” he replies, relief evident in his voice. When he speaks again, his voice is choked up, as if he’s holding back tears. “I thought I had lost you.”

“Not yet,” Minala promises. 

She rests her chin on Emmrich’s shoulder, squeezing him as tightly as possible. It’s easier to think about how terrified he must have been when she vanished than it is to think much about what just happened to her. She can only imagine how worried he was with his thanatophobia, how horrified he must have been at the prospect of one of his worst fears becoming reality. 

Minala’s thoughts are interrupted by another pair of arms wrapping around her, this time from the back. She doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Bellara— she would know her touch anywhere.

“We were so scared,” Bellara says, not managing to hold back tears as well as Emmrich did. “You were— you were just gone. And Solas was there and… I’m so glad that you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Minala replies. 

It’s only now that she’s truly able to process the sight in front of her. They’re in elven ruins, though it’s hard to process exactly where. Emmrich looks messier than usual— his hair is ruffled like he just got out of bed and there’s dark stubble on his jaw and neck. His clothes are even a little disheveled, with the collar of his shirt being crumpled and messy. It’s strange not seeing him completely put together, and she can’t help but feel guilty her disappearance had such an effect on him. 

Bellara looks to have been hit pretty hard too when Minala turns to see her over her shoulder. It’s never been uncommon for Bellara’s bun to come out a bit messy, with her sometimes being in a rush to get it put up before starting the day. But it’s messier than usual now, and her eyes are puffy like she had been crying even before she had come back. Tears stream down her face, only seeming to come down faster when Minala looks at her, and she squeezes her even tighter. 

“Please don’t leave us like that ever again,” Bellara says, burying her face against the side of Minala’s neck. “I missed you so, so much.”

“I missed you too,” Minala says. “And I promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure I never have to leave you again.”

Time moves differently in the Fade. That’s something that Minala has known for years, knowledge that had been instilled in her from her years of study with the Mourn Watch. But it’s one thing to know that’s the case, and another to have actually experienced it while trapped in the Fade prison. It’s hard to believe weeks have passed, and now the world draws closer and closer to crumbling to pieces. 

Minala tells herself that there’s no point in regretting the time lost. Even if she wasn’t here, the rest of the team was hard at work while she was away. They managed to save her, for one— something she’s sure they only managed to do between Emmrich’s knowledge of the Fade combined with Bellara’s expertise on all the oddities that can come about when the Fade is thin. She wouldn’t be here if not for them, and she knows she’ll never be able to thank them enough for saving her.

But right now, they have other priorities. Minala wakes up on the morning the world may end knowing that there’s a lot riding on her shoulders. She won’t have to face it alone, at least. Her team will be with her, and they’re rallying their allies to join the fight in Minrathous. The Shadow Dragons have everything ready for what might be their final stand before the Veil falls, and the eluvian network at least should make it easier to gather their allies. And if she’s careful about it, she should be able to use the false lyrium dagger the others made to outwit the god of trickery himself. 

Minala tells herself that everything will work out. The battle ahead will be harsh, but she wants to think they’ll still be able to pull through. Last night was a reminder of what she has to fight for— Davrin, Taash, and Lucanis all looked relieved to see her back, and Manfred managed to say he missed her as he jumped around and pulled her into a hug. 

But one of the biggest motivators Minala has to make it out of this alive is waking up in bed with her partners. Though as she blinks awake, she realizes Emmrich is gone— hardly an unusual sight in the morning since he’s an early riser and tries to do his morning stretches before Minala and Bellara wake up. But Bellara is still fast asleep next to her, snoring a bit with her face buried against one of the pillows. She always looks adorable like this, sleeping so peacefully that it makes Minala want to curl back up and drift off to sleep again. 

But the sound of the door to her room as Emmrich returns distracts her from that. She peers at him through the dark as he makes his way back towards the bed. He’s still in his dressing gown, but he must have been up for a while, with the stubble he had been sporting when he pulled her out of the Fade having just been shaved. It’s nice seeing him getting back to his usual look, though Minala can’t deny that he did look handsome with a bit more facial hair.

“Good morning, my love,” he greets in a low whisper as he gets closer to the bed.

“You shaved,” Minala notes with a yawn. 

“It was about time that I cleaned myself up,” Emmrich replies. He sits on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “It was a difficult past few weeks.”

Minala can only imagine. It’s not like Emmrich to not care for himself like that— he wanted to bring his shaving tools and silk dressing gown on a camping trip. And she hates knowing that she’s the reason he let his usual care for himself slip for weeks. 

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Minala says. “I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, dearest,” Emmrich replies. 

“But I do. I know how scared death makes you, and I’m— you’re right. We all need to be more careful.”

The expression on Emmrich’s face is hard to read, but there’s a softness to it. He brushes Minala’s bangs aside, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. 

“Bellara would have you believe I was the one who managed to convince her to keep the faith you’d return,” he says. “Perhaps I needed to convince her as much as I needed to convince myself. I was terrified every moment you were gone. That old fear of mortality seized me again, though this time it was also at the thought of losing you. It clung to me in every waking moment, and even in some sleeping ones.”

Minala wishes she had been here for Emmrich then. She’s woken up before when he’s had one of his episodes in the night, tears streaming down his face and barely able to breathe. She might not be able to ease the panic that washes over him, but she can help him through it. She takes his hand in hers, giving it a quick squeeze in an attempt at reassurance. 

“Bellara was a great help through it all, though. It was easier to breathe with her at my side, just as Manfred helps. But I couldn’t help but feel that it is far easier to face the thought of that final, eternal dark when I have you here too,” Emmrich says. “You know I love you, don’t you, darling?”

“And I love you too,” Minala promises. It’s not the first time she’s said that to Emmrich. Bellara’s still taking her time to warm up to saying she loves them, but Emmrich has been open with his affections for months now. Still, saying it this time feels different. Maybe it was their time apart that makes it feel more real, like a confirmation that they’ll be there for each other through everything. 

“So please. No more scares like that.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing like this happens again.”

Emmrich sighs, but that must have been a good enough response for him. He pulls himself back into the bed, laying on his side so he can face Minala. When she slips her hand beneath his dressing gown, he rests his chin on her shoulder. His body relaxes against hers as she rubs his back. 

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you for good,” Emmrich admits. “There’s comfort to being here with another Watcher, but the way you see things… I’m not sure you know how much you inspire me.”

“You’re very sweet,” Minala says. 

“And you, my love, are far too humble. You’re indomitable, and the way you’re able to face death every day without flinching would be admirable under any circumstances.”

“I could say you’re too humble too. You’re a lot braver than you know, Emmy.”

“Maybe so,” Emmrich admits. “But after this all ends, I’d like you to tell me more about how you think of death.”

“Are you sure?” As much as Minala likes the idea of getting to talk about it with him, she doesn’t want to push too far. The last thing she ever wants to do is hurt him. 

“You see things differently from how I do. But perhaps if you tell me more about your way of thinking, I might be able to change my own thoughts on the end,” he replies. 

Minala smiles. “Then I’d be happy to help as much as you want me to.”

“Thank you.” Emmrich draws closer for a kiss at that, his lips soft against Minala’s. 

On Minala’s other side, Bellara stretches, yawning. “You two are so cute.”

Minala reaches out with her spare hand, brushing it against Bellara’s hip. “How long have you been awake?”

“Just a minute or so. I only heard that last bit. The part about talking about death stuff to help with Emmrich’s fears around it. And all the sweet compliments,” she says. 

“Then good morning,” Minala greets. 

“Good morning,” Bellara replies. 

“Did you sleep well, darling?” Emmrich inquires.

“A lot better with Minala back.” She sighs, cuddling up closer against Minala. “You’re… you make me feel a lot calmer, you know. It’s hard to get my head to stop buzzing sometimes, and the thoughts never really stop. But I don’t know. It’s easier to rest when I’m with you. With both of you.”

“I know what you mean,” Minala says. It’s easier to soothe her mind when she’s with Bellara and Emmrich. There’s something about their presence that makes it easier for her to relax, and put the rest of the world on hold for just a moment. 

“But, um, if we’re going to be mushy this morning, I think I should say something.”

Minala and Emmrich exchange a quick look. They can guess what she might be about to say, why she might have such a nervous tone to her voice right now. 

“You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready yet,” Minala reassures her, untangling her arms from Emmrich so she can roll onto her side and face Bellara. 

“I know, but I want to say it. It’s important to me that you both hear me say it,” Bellara says. She takes a breath, closing her eyes. “Some things are just hard to say! Really, really hard! But I… when you were gone, it was like a part of me was gone too. And I never want to feel that way again. I never want to feel that way with either of you. You’re… ugh. I can say it, I know I can say it. It’s just— give me a minute.”

“You’re welcome to take as much time as you need,” Emmrich says. “Minala and I understand.”

“Thanks. I— you both are amazing,” she says. “And I don’t know, maybe building up to saying it will make it easier? Or something? I don’t know why saying three words is so scary, but I want you to know that I mean them. More than anything.”

“I know,” Minala promises. 

Bellara’s quiet for a moment. Minala’s sure that she’s wishing she had the notebook she brings around with her sometimes, scripting out what she wants to say before she says it. That’s one of the many things she finds endearing about Bellara— a feeling she can relate to as well as find sweet. Now, though, she has to map out what she says in her head, taking the time to find the right words to say. But Minala’s sure that no matter what she says, she and Emmrich will be happy to hear it. 

“Mala lath athim, mir uthenera,” Bellara eventually says, stretching across Minala to take both of her partners hands. The elven words roll smoothly off her tongue, like poetry or words to a long lost song, but there’s a shyness to her tone. 

“That’s elven, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Emmrich inquires.

“Your love humbles me, my eternal waking dream,” she translates slowly, carefully. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as if to steady herself, before she speaks again. “I love you both. More than I knew I could. No matter what happens next, I need you to know that.”

Minala smiles, shifting closer to Bellara to press a kiss to her cheek. “I love you too, baby.”

“And we’ll make sure that what happens next will be a happy ending for us,” Emmrich says as he takes Bellara’s hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

Minala hopes that he’s right. That after everything that happens today, there’ll be a happy ending waiting for the three of them. It’s an idea she’ll carry with her into the fight ahead, a reminder for her of what awaits if they win the day. 

Her partners deserve a happy ending. And Minala hopes that by the end of the day, they’ll have it. 

[persnickety-doodles]

Here are some old sketches inspired from that “old” lipstick TikTok trend😅

I think I might clean this up. What do you think? 🥹

[front-facing-pokemon]

[kirby-the-gorb]

(No Obligation Whatsoever but if you *want* to give me a birthday present my kofi is in the pinned post or you could always draw a kirby :> after all I started drawing him every day in the first place just cuz I think low key simple kirby drawings are fun and there should be more of them!)

[zebratimw]

Happy 100th post

[imperiuswrecked]

So I just found out that Jason Aaron (aka the worst Namor writer in the long 80+ years history of the character) is writing Namor.

I'm doing fine (lying).

[bleaksqueak]

Insomnia is letting up off and on, but I'm still super jelly brained from it case in point, I want to continue back with posting WIPs for the aired pages, but I can't remember what page I left off on now lmao (guess I'll have to dig through my blog to check... eesh. at least it's decently organized by tags?) Not a result of goo brain, really, but equally "AUGH" is that I let my screen protector go for too long without replacing it and now it's slick as snot and I don't have a replacement handy to put on it. This isn't a resulting consequence of goo brain but it does mean I'm going to be trying to draw without any traction while I'm already loopy. Good times ahead!