#but if I want to write a fanfiction in the future i want to write Kuairumi feat Cyrax Tomas and Hanzo

[infiniterealms]

Infinite Realms: A Danny Phantom Remix Event

Remixing time!

Hello everyone! I'm very excited to announce that the time for remixing is upon us!

The initial twelve fics will be posted over the next day or so, and I will add them to this pinned post as they're up.

What is a Remix?

Have you ever read an amazing fic and wanted to have a go at it yourself, but felt too shy or like you’d be doing something wrong? Have you ever seen the Two Cakes comic and wistfully remembered a oneshot someone wrote that you wish you could continue? Do you want to show an author you love their work to the point of your own creation, but you don’t know how to make fanart?

This is your opportunity to give something new a try!

When you remix a fanfiction, you write a piece based directly off the fic. There are many ways to do this, and the ones accepted in this event are as follows.

POV Flip - Retelling the same events from a different character's point of view.

Role Reversal - Swapping the roles of two key characters. An example would be remixing a fic where Valerie hunts Danny, by turning Valerie into the hunted and Danny into the hunter in your version.

Sequel/Prequel - The events leading up to or following the fic. This should overlap with either the first or last scene of the original.

Genre Change - Changing the fic to a different genre. An example could be changing a modern day canon setting to medieval fantasy or to a space opera.

For Want of a Nail - One small detail at the beginning of fic is changed, causing things to happen differently.

One Crucial Detail - Focus on what you think is the most important detail of the fic for a character’s point of view, and let everything else fall away.

Guidelines for Remixing

There are no sign ups or restrictions on who can participate. All skill levels are welcome!

For this event, we will be doing gen fics only. This is to create a space where everyone can enjoy the pieces regardless of shipping preferences. Potential future iterations of this event may include a shipping option.

Other types of remixes are okay if the author of the oneshot specifies that in their fic description.

Three things cannot be changed - who the characters are, the basic setting, and the basic plot.

Please keep your pieces rated T and under, and use all appropriate trigger warnings.

No direct plagiarism - you need to write things in your own words for the fic to be included in the collection. It’s okay to quote some dialogue or a key sentence or two, especially if you’re writing overlapping scenes, but your fic should mostly be your own words.

In the spirit of the event, crossovers should be avoided unless the author specifically states on their fic that they would be okay with them. In future years we may introduce a crossover category, but for now, avoiding crossovers makes your pieces more accessible to everyone in the fandom.

This event is designed for writers. However, if artists wish to participate, then they can also feel free to do so. Pictures will be reblogged to the @infiniterealms tumblr, and should follow the same posting requirements as written fics (listed later in this post).

There is no limit to how many pieces anyone writes.

There are no word count restrictions.

The event officially ends on the last day of February, but I hope you all enjoy learning more about remixing thanks to this event and maybe give it a try again in the future!

Posting Requirements

To have your remix featured on this blog and/or included in the ao3 collection, please...

...for tumblr posts

Mention the @infiniterealms blog

Use the hashtags Infinite Realms and Danny Phantom

@ the author of the original piece

Link the original piece at the start of your post

...for ao3 uploads

Tag your fic with Infinite Realms

Add your fic to the Infinite Realms Remix 2025 collection at this link

When uploading your fic, tick the checkbox that says "This work is a remix, a translation, a podfic, or was inspired by another work" and fill in the relevant information

Initial Fics to Remix

Will be updated as they're posted! All 12 should be up by the end of February 1st, so watch this space.

On the Line by @lexiepiper

Bitter and Heavy Truths by @haleswallows

Touring Babel by @princessfanonanona

LOST! do not approach, may bite by @lavendarlily

down and down and down we go by @camels-pen

Time and Time and Time Again by @coyotecrackers

First Contact by @hannahmanderr

Foreworn by @jackdraw-spwrite

nervous by @five-rivers

oh, mental breakdown, we're really in it now 😔 by @oofouchstovehot

Please check the notes on the fics before you remix them, as some authors have also stated a few preferences. Thank you!

[tervaneula]

Ouugghhgjg them... Leo deserves some closure after the events of the second chapter of and just like that, and because my brain isn't letting me think in words (I'd wanted to write a drabble for this) I'll just think in pictures instead

Leo's having a tough time and obviously Leonardo isn't just going to let him fester in those feelings 🥺 He's not leaving! Yuichi isn't taking him away from his family! It's A PROMISE

[lenle-g]

so the rune the Jayce of this timeline/world gets is the Acceleration rune which is perhaps why he goes to the future instead of going with Heimerdinger and Ekko which gave him the idea to build the Hexgates to transport things quickly over a long distance

and that Ekko uses to build the portal home and his time machine watch

So, if they're using this acceleration rune, even if outwardly nullified by the inversion of Ekko's device being thrown at them, maybe the boys at the end aren't sacrificing themselves...

Maybe they're getting transported

[quoththemaiden]

@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

[lostinlovingrevery]

He's Definitely Obsessed With You: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Okay It's Time To Explain Yourself

Plot: Logan was back, and he gives you an explanation for his silence

A/N: Here it is! this ends up being kinda fluffy and short, but i hope ya'll enjoy :)

Warnings: Mentions of religion, anxiety, slight suggestive content (honestly so small it's not really worth tagging), this gets pretty fluffy me thinks

Word Count: 3679

Prev<- ❤️ ->Next

The rain had stopped. Albeit things were still wet, muddy, and humid. 

You were on a break, hiding behind the medical tent, facing the dense jungle that surrounded you and the camp you were. You watched a small creek that had formed during the rain, the water rushing through, adding to the background noise of the jungle. You were perched on a few wooden crates that were placed along the back of the tent, your knees brought to your chest. 

It had been an unusually quiet day. No gunshot wounds, no amputations, no colds, fevers, sepsis, colic, amongst the various things you saw day to day. The patients you did have did not need the usual babysitting, able to walk on their own, feed themselves, and use the bathroom without any assistance. You would usually be desperate for a moment of peace, but now that it was quiet, it only filled you with dread- wondering if this was just calm before the storm. 

“You hiding out?” 

A familiar voice graced your ears, as you told your head to see Logan standing there, arms crossed, and the soft smile that you’ve grown to love so much- perhaps because it seems only reserved for you. You relaxed your posture, not wanting to look like a child by the way you were holding onto yourself, so you dropped you legs over the side of the crate, and leaned back on your hands.

You wanted to make some joke, a sarcastic reply, but you couldn’t find it in you. So you forced a smile, and nodded. His expression faltered, a flicker of worry comes across his face as he walks over to you, leaning his back against the large crate you were sitting on. 

“Whats going on bub?” He asked. 

“It’s just one of those days Lo.” You said gently. He nodded. He understood.

“It’s been quiet.” 

“Yeah.” 

You both sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the jungle. There was an insect chirping nearby, an animal you don’t recognize calling out through the trees. You glanced at Logan, his back was to you, as he was staring out past the trees. He had that haunted look in his eyes, that you see often in most soldiers, but you knew with him that it was more than that. He had recently revealed to you his true age, and the fact that Vietnam was not his first war. You believed it, because of the way he carried himself, he seemed to know his orders before they were even spoken. He’d have this look on his face as if he done this all before, and he knew how this would end. 

You chewed on your lip, as you stared at him. Since you guys first met, you grew a fast friendship. Several of the men on the camp teased you about it, especially considering Logan was a reserved person, and most of them could barely get a conversation out of him. Yet when you were around, he’d brighten up, respond to anything you say, help you out. They made jokes saying that you must surely be giving him ‘the good stuff’ for him to be so perky around you. Whether they were talking about drugs or sex you didn’t know- or care. You were always able to put them in their place- which they absolutely loved about you. If Logan was ever close enough, and overheard their teasing, he’d come over, shoving them away, or grabbing the collars of their shirts, asking them if that’s how they talked to a woman- and also the only person who could save their dumbasses if they got shot. He’d make them apologize before dragging them off as they attempted to get free from him, laughing and claiming it was a joke, and he’d have a smile on his face, winking at you. It was one of the rare, more light-hearted moments that you could appreciate. 

Logan always acted so serious, but once in awhile that schoolboy charm breaks through- just for you. 

He turned his body towards you suddenly, leaning on his elbow on the crate you were sitting on, he gave you that sweet smile that always makes your heart flutter. A complete change in his demeanor from just a moment ago where he seemed far away in his memories. “What are you going to do, once your service is up?” He asks, his tone unusually curious. “Go back home?” 

“Mm. Maybe.” You shrugged, looking down at the ground. “I hadn’t thought about it I guess. I’m not sure if I’ll resign my contract..” You looked up at him “You?”

He paused, pondering. “Don’t really know either.” He says. “Serving, fighting, always seems to be the only life I’ve had. I’ve gone from one war to another.” He tapped his fingers on the wood, before glancing around. “I got a cabin, in my hometown. In the mountains. Haven’t been to it in a long time.”

“A cabin in the mountains huh?” You smiled. “I’d like to see that.” 

A small smirk appeared on his face. “You’d be welcome, if you wanted to visit.”  

“As long as you’re there. Hm?” You tilt your head. “Whats the point of going if you ain’t gonna show me it?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Maybe we could work that out. Whens your tour up?”

“In a year.”

“Convenient. So is mine.” 

You stared at each other, and you felt a warm feeling through your body. The idea of you and Logan, out there in a different life, far different from your lives right now. Something where you both could carve out your lives, maybe together. You wonder if that’s what he was thinking about to, with the sudden question. Finally, you both looked away, and for a moment you reflect on how you guys met. You looked down at his hands that were resting on the crate. Something that you’ve wondered before, but ignored over time popped into your head. 

“Hey Lo?” You grabbed his hand in yours. 

He looked at you, quirking a brow as he waits for your next words.

“Remember when we first met?”

“Course.”

“After you figured out that I knew you were a..mutant.” You lowered your voice as you say the word. You didn’t like having to keep the identity a secret, something you struggle with yourself- but nonetheless it’s safer this way. “The first thing you asked, is if I was scared of you.” 

His face softened. “Yeah, well you, you looked scared.” He says. “That’s why.”

“Oh.” You nodded, accepting his answer, it made sense, you suppose, though a small scratch in your mind made you wonder if there was more to it. “I was startled because you’d jumped up like a bat out of hell.” you teased him. 

He grinned, it dropping as he looked down at where you held his hand. Then he sighed. “There’s more to it. I…Being who I am. What I am. When people see that, they….They’re terrified sometimes. I’ve hurt people, with these things- that are apart of me.” He flexed his fist in your hand as he looked down at it, but he never brought out his claws, you knew that’s what he was talking about. He shut his mouth, jaw tensing, and you began to rub your thumb over the back of his hand, encouraging him to keep going. “I’d…Seen you around camp. Heard about you, what a nice person you are. I didn’t want to scare you.” 

You smiled at him softly, understanding. “I could never be scared of you Lo.” You say softly, “Even if I wasn’t a mutant myself, I…I can just tell you’re a good man, that you want to be a good man. That’s important.” 

His expression was something that both warmed and broke your heart. What you said seemed to mean a lot to him. He nodded, not saying anything else, as you continued to hold his hand in your lap, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles, the very spots that you’ve seen the boney claws come out of. He’d only showed you once, and you thought they were beautiful. He thought you were very strange for thinking that. You stared down at his hand, and even though he just talked about how much hurt he had caused with his hands- all you could think about was how warm they felt. It wasn’t till you pressed you thumb against the space between his knuckles that you felt him shudder, a small hitch in his breath. You looked up.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” You asked. 

“Uh..No.” He says, swallowing as he looked away, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Still though, you decided not to do it again, especially for the fact that you could see the tips of his ears turning red, and his cheeks looked a tad pinker than before. You instead curled your hand around his, and simply held it, secretly marking that observation in your mind. 

You ran towards him, practically jumping into him as your arms wrapped around his neck, and he caught you, stumbling back a bit, his arms going around your waist tightly. Setting your feet back on the ground, you both embraced each other, his face buried in your neck almost painfully. 

You took the moment to feel everything. The feeling of his sturdy figure pressed against yours, you could feel his nose pressed into the crook of your neck, his warm breath spreading over your skin. You could feel each deep breath he was taking, nearly matching each breath you took. He smelled just like you remember, that warm scent of cigars and leather. Your hands were pressed against the leather of his jacket. You weren’t going to let go. 

You honestly wondered if Logan was thinking the same, by how he didn’t budge, and you both just held each other. Soon though, the sweetness of the moment began to wear down- and now you were filled with questions. Logan must have sensed it, finally pulling away- his hands rested on your hips while yours sat on his broad shoulders. 

He looked down at you, that soft smile you missed so much. You felt like your breath was being taken away. You wonder if it’s pathetic to feel so… breathless, over someone you hadn’t seen in 2 years, someone who you merely had a friendship with. 

“I missed you.” You finally say.

His smile deepened. His eyes though, they told another story. They were soft, the way he always looked at you but you could see a stormy wave of emotion in them. Logan was stoic and hard to read for most, even you at one point. Though, as you gotten to know him, you learned that he carried his feelings in his eyes, not his face. You could take one look at them and know what he was feeling, and sometimes even thinking. You wondered what he had gone through over the last year since you’ve seen him. 

“I missed you too bub.” He says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You blushed at feeling his touch. 

“What- where- what-..” You stopped, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. You needed to stay calm, who knows what he’s gone through, he simply needs you to be - “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” You finally exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air. “I haven’t heard from you in a YEAR! I couldn’t find out anything, I didn’t know if you were dead, or a POW, or or or-”

“Hey-” His hands grabbed your arms, shushing you. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice.” He says softly, his voice low, and soothing- something he’s taken with you when comforting you, when everything had become too much. “I can explain.” He looked down at you, silently pleading for forgiveness with his eyes, something you honestly compared to something of a puppy begging for scraps. 

I can’t be mad at him

You sighed. “I’m not angry with you Lo. I never could be angry at you.” You say. “I just…was so worried. I didn’t know anything. What happened to you?” 

“I know.” He replied, a softness in his voice. “I’ll explain what I can.” 

You nodded, taking a deep breath, you grabbed his hand and led him into your house, picking up your keys that you dropped on the way. He let you lead him, you setting him down on the couch, and immediately went to make tea. Well, for yourself. You knew he’d want whiskey- which you grabbed a bottle from Rose’s stash, knowing she wouldn’t mind. 

“Thanks.” He took the bottle from you, snapping the cap off with ease, and taking a long swig. He leaned back on the couch, spreading his legs, as he brought a hand up, tucking his thumb under the hem of his jeans, and seemingly making himself comfortable. You couldn’t help but smile, happy that he seems to be comfortable- but it felt strange. To see him in civilian clothing- as good as he looks. He had a brown leather jacket on, a flannel buttoned up, but you could see the collar of the wife-beater he wore underneath. He had on dark blue jeans, sporting some belt with a fancy looking belt buckle, and brown boots that looked worn down. His hair, still full of his brown wavy locks, styled a bit differently than how it used to be in the army- like he had put more effort into it, and his sideburns going down the sides of his face and along his jaw towards his chin and lips, completing a beard, not quite as full as you remembered it. He must have shaved. It’s been two years of course he’s shaved. He hadn’t looked like he aged a day. He hasn’t aged in almost 100 years. He just looked so handsome, and it was nice to see him looked at least...somewhat comfortable. It was even stranger that you had just resigned yourself to let go of him, any hopes you may of had for the future of your relationship together, or of just any communication you would have gotten from him and now he just randomly shows up.  He looked up at you after having glanced around your tiny living room that carried a mix of aesthetics and furniture that you and Rose shared. His eyes trailed over your body, and for a moment you thought you saw a flash of desire in his eyes. He quickly looked back up at you. “You look good.” He says. 

You shrugged, moving to sit down at the lounge chair across from him, sipping your tea. 

“It’s different. Not seeing you in your army clothes.” He commented. You raised an eyebrow, 

“I can say the same for you.” You smile over your mug. 

Another moment of silence, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t written. It wasn’t on purpose. I….” He looked troubled, unsure of how or what he wanted to tell you. “I was recruited part of a team. It was an operative team. CIA.” 

You blinked in surprise. CIA? Really? 

“What…How did that happen?” 

“It’s…a long story.” He leaned forward. The look on his face told you he didn’t want to tell you it. “It happened a little after you’d left, and at the time I was still able to write, but I couldn’t tell you what I was doing and eventually they forbid me to write at all, considering it a security risk. I can’t tell you what we were doing. All a bunch of secretive bullshit but…I can tell you that I thought about you the entire time.” 

You felt like your heart practically sprouted wings, and was now fluttering around your chest. So he was thinking about you as much as you did him… 

“I….Did too.” You finally admit, then sipping your mug in an anxious manner. He expression seemed to lighten at that. “So..Why are you here now?” You asked.

“I…Left.” He says, he took a deep sigh, his voice tinged with a bit of frustration. “After hearing about the end of the war, and then I had some…hard feelings about some stuff going on with the team. I was- am- just tired of it all. So I quit. Now I’m here.” 

You nodded. As curious as you were about what he was doing, what he was going through, you remembered how you felt when you came home. You were bombarded by questions about what it was like, what did you do over there, your thoughts and opinions on every little thing that was on the papers. What you wanted was some peace, quiet, and…well at the time you wanted him. You hadn’t said goodbye and it stressed you out to no end, worried you’d never be able to see or talk to him again, and when you received that first letter you were ecstatic. You wondered what would Logan want? 

Sitting up, you set your mug of tea on the coffee table the sat between you both. He watched you, as you sat next to him, and took his hand in yours. You interlocked your fingers with his, leaning back against the couch, your arms and your knees touching. 

Something told you that there was more to be said. Things that he wasn’t telling you and that maybe he did want to tell you. Perhaps if you pushed him, he would spill it. You felt this wasn’t the time though, he needed your support, your help, even if he wasn’t outright saying it. 

“Well I for one, am glad your here.” You say, matter of factly. He grinned, tight lipped, but genuine. You looked down at where your hands were connected. “So, you gonna show me that mountain cabin of yours now?” 

He turned his own head nodding. “Yeah, I sure can. Oh-” He sat up, his free hand searching his jacket pockets, before pulling out something, he held it in his palm. 

It was your necklace. 

The prayer coin, of Raphael. One of the first things Logan had noticed about you. You gasped, taking it from his hand. 

“You- You found it?” You asked in disbelief. The necklace had disappeared during the chaos that ensued when you got hit in the shoulder. You had quickly resigned that you’d likely never see it again. You had more to worry about and honestly forgot about it. 

“Yeah.” He says. “I…Kept it on me. I know technically it’s supposed to protect doctors and stuff but I figured… Maybe it look out for me too?” He says. You smiled. You knew he didn’t actually believe in that. The topic of religion you’d both talked about plenty of times, but Logan, not fully a nonbeliever, just had his own feelings regarding God and everything. Which, if you’d lived as long as he has, you’d probably feel the same. He didn’t keep the necklace because he’d thought it keep him safe. He kept it because it was a piece of you. The same way you kept that polaroid- still upstairs in your bedroom, tucked safely in one of the books on your bedside table. 

“I’m glad you kept it.” You say. “Honestly a lot of good it did for me anyway.” You shrugged, a bit sarcastic. You let go of Logans hand, and place the necklace around your neck, letting the coin fall over your chest, as your fingers brushed softly over it. “Y’know, having got shot and all.” You glanced at Logan, who’s eyes went to your shoulder. “I’m fine. The only thing that bothers me is that it’s sore when it rains. Sometimes lifting heavy stuff bothers it.”

“Well, guess that means I’ll have to do the heavy lifting.” He says. 

“Pfft, as if I didn’t make you do it already.” You rolled your eyes. You fell back against the couch, and Logan put his arm around you, tugging you against him, and you let him, you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment as you felt the rise and fall of his chest. For two people who hadn’t seen each other in 2 years, you were both quick to fall into familiar ways.

“Yknow, Raphael isn’t just the patron saint of doctors and nurses.”

“No?”

“He’s also a patron saint of happy meetings.” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You giggled. “I don’t know…” You say softly. “Maybe this?” 

He grunted. “Well, I think I should get the credit for that. Not some guy with wings.” 

You smiled as you turned your head to press your cheek against his shoulder, the leather of his jacket felt cool, and comfortable against your skin. Maybe it was all worth it, all the waiting and worrying. Obsessing over every one of his letters, wondering if you imagined everything all along. Now that he was here, you were reminded exactly of what you felt- what you always felt. You told everyone you guys were just friends, nothing more. You told yourself that, even if you knew better, you knew what you felt. You and Logan were never just friends. You both had something more, something deeper than friendship. Out in Vietnam, it wasn’t something you both could explore, things were dangerous, busy, and not to mention if something were to happen, it wasn’t like there was a whole lot of privacy. 

Now though, you both had time. Had time to figure out this thing between you, that has wore a mask of friendship but really was something deeper than that. Even if you both didn’t fall into the discovery of that something right away- as you soon discover- you began to navigate your new lives together. You’d help Logan adjust, giving him all the patience and understanding he could possibly want. He got a job at a lumbar mill, and his cabin that had sat cold and empty for years, was filled with warmth once again, but to him, it wasn’t because of him- it was because of you. 

Surely, things are only going to be brighter from now on. Right?

[theflyingfeeling]

heavenly, heavenly, heavenly (pt. 1)

alternatively: just some Olli/Allu loving in the LA house 💕

~

helloooooo it's my first fic of 2025! I know it's been a while since the band's song writing trip to LA, but recently I've been having various Divine Revelations about it, so here, have this little Olli/Allu porn with some (soft) feelings (with possibly more parts to follow if you give me some time)

~

The mornings in LA were Olli's favourites.

That was when the whole world was quiet – even in one of the busiest cities on the planet – and Olli could focus on listening to only the peaceful, almost soundless breathing by his ear. Sometimes he'd fall back to sleep listening to it, other times he'd nudge his nose against warm skin to arouse more endearing sounds: long, content sighs, low-tuned hums, or sometimes even incomprehensible mumbling, the ramblings of someone who was only half awake.

Yet other mornings, such as this one, Olli needed to pursue his own agenda more boldly, so he brought his lips close to an ear, allowed them to curve in a smirk, and whispered his humble plea:

"Wake up, Allu. Time for breakfast."

A series of lingering kisses along Aleksi's jawline to the corner of his mouth followed the whisper. When Aleksi's lips responded to the kiss and his thighs gave room for Olli to slide in between them, Olli knew Aleksi had been awake for quite some time already.

Olli smiled against Aleksi's mouth. "Mmmh. I see how it is." Then he swallowed the deep moan that erupted from Aleksi when Olli brought their chests and stomachs and crotches together. Feeling Aleksi's semi hard-on against his own, OIli tested his own patience by rolling his hips as lazily as he could, as teasingly as he dared, in such an infuriatingly slow pace as he had the heart to without driving them both crazy with their hunger for each other.

"You sound so lovely," he often told Aleksi on mornings like these, and as if thanking him for the compliment, Aleksi would often fill Olli's ears with another moan thundering from inside his chest. The moan would vibrate against Olli's own and send Olli's heart bouncing around his ribcage with the urge to escape its prison and scream out all the fragile feelings Olli kept there across the Hollywood Hills.

(But he wasn't quite ready for that yet, the idea of it intimidating him sometimes; frightening him with how speechless he suddenly was when he tried to put his affection for Aleksi into words; starling him with how overwhelming it sometimes felt.)

"You feel so lovely," Olli also loved to tell Aleksi, especially when their still clothed erections were slowly moving together like they were now. Focusing on the throb of Aleksi's cock and that of his own was the perfect distraction from any of the emotions that had his breath stuck in his throat, from any untimely confessions about to fall off the tip of his tongue.

(I wish it could be like this when we're back home.)

"You taste so lovely," Olli would say those mornings when he'd feel particularly ravenous, mere seconds before he'd take Aleksi's tip in between his lips and leave it glistening with his saliva. He feared he'd have no self-control for that this morning, however, not with his cock begging to explore places far more alluring and satisfying than the insides of his boxers.

SItting up, Olli undressed them both of their underwear, which was usually Aleksi's cue to object in his own, sleepy way, like he did this morning, and gripped on to Olli's sides to pull him down again. Olli was quick to lean back in to reward Aleksi for his patience (or lack of thereof), to have Aleksi's restless (gentle) hands on his backside again, and to nibble below Aleksi's ear with his tender (eager) teeth so that the man was squirming and groaning under him. The nibbles turned into soft kisses at Aleksi's neck when Olli begun opening him up with two fingers, but Aleksi only seemed to grow ever so needy – and louder.

"Shhhhhh." Olli muffled his lover's whimpers with his lips. "The others are still sleeping." It was a filthy lie, of course, as Joel had been stomping around the house since at least an hour earlier, but protecting his bandmates' sleep was beyond Olli's interests anyway.

Aleksi parted his eyelids then, giving Olli a pleading glance but lowering his volume to the cutest little noises of desperation Olli had ever heard in his life (or at least since the morning before).

"That's better. Well done, love," Olli made sure to speak so close to Aleksi's mouth that the man would feel Olli's hot breath on his lips, and so close that he'd see the flash of surrender in Aleksi's eyes; it was only a split second of weakness before he'd collect himself again, but it was just enough for Olli to know he was pulling on all the right strings to care for Aleksi the way he needed to be cared for (longed to be cared for (by him and him only, Olli dared to hope)).

"You're amazing, Ale," Olli continued the praise as he kept on kissing Aleksi's neck while massaging his own cock with the lotion they'd been using as lube. All the while he made sure his tip would brush Aleksi's slick hole every other stroke, sliding in deep enough to part Aleksi's smooth bottocks but stopping right at his rim and pulling back again. Olli couldn't tell which one of them he was torturing more, though, as every nudge in between Aleksi's buttcheeks made Olli shudder and his cock twitch, nearly ready to coat the crease of Aleksi's ass with his semen before ever entering him. As if hoping for exactly that to happen, Aleksi was rolling his hips under Olli, trying to lure more of Olli's cock inside him, so once Olli decided he'd had his fun teasing Aleksi, he put them both ouf their misery and sank inside, smoothing any pain Aleksi might have felt with another kiss to his lips.

Every inch of Aleksi on every inch of Olli felt like Heaven itself. The Heaven of Aleksi was hot and soft and tight and clenching Olli's balls with every unhurried thrust, almost in a way that almost brought tears to his eyes and almost had him blurt out a hasty ifuckingloveyou – but only almost. Once had brushed such fooleries aside for later contemplation, he found a pace that satisfied them both and withdrew his lips from Aleksi's to let the man's sweet little whimpers wander right into his ears instead. Tragically, hearing Aleksi's pleasure like that was everything to Olli, and so all the forbidden words and unspeakable honesties were back in Olli's head, as if waiting for their chance to cut and run wild before Olli would have the chance to think twice.

Olli had little choice but to resume kissing and biting Aleksi's neck, then, to give his mouth something more useful to do, and he did so with even more lust and greed while moving in and out of Aleksi, deeper and deeper every time he buried himself back in to the hilt after pulling out almost completely, his glistening head twitching at Aleksi's rim. He did so freely for a good minute or two until Aleksi crossed his legs above Olli's bum to lock him in place, Olli supposed with a smile, a request which Olli was more than willing to fulfil.

At least if Aleksi was to ask nicely.

"Wanna cum already?" It was hard to speak, with his mouth so dry and his mind so full of bliss and pleasure and love.

"So bad." Aleksi was panting now, his neck extended and his nails digging into Olli's back. Each time Olli was about to pull off, with every intention to thrust in a second later, Aleksi's hips followed his to keep Olli's cock in place where it was reaching all of Aleksi's sweet spots, or so Olli figured from the man's desperation.

It made Olli a little light-headed to see Aleksi like that, gasping for air and chasing his peak as if in a trance. Olli could hardly believe he was the reason for it.

It was almost as if it was too good to be true, and perhaps that was what scared him the most; that it was all just a silly dream, or an alternate universe that would vanish once they'd be back home and he'd never get to live it ever again.

For that reason, Olli would have preferred to keep on moving inside Aleksi and deny them both of their orgasms for as long as he could, but when Aleksi began rambling sweet nonsense to his ear, how could he possibly hold back any longer?

"Feels so fucking good," Aleksi whispered him. Suddenly Olli felt like he had lost all control, despite being on top, and submitted himself to the quickening movements of Aleksi's pelvis. "When you fuck me like this. And when you suck me off. And when I ride you. And when you ride me. Fuck, Olli, please ride me tonight."

"I will," Olli breathed roughly against the delicate skin on Aleksi's neck. "I'll ride you and make you moan so loud you wake up the whole street." Reversing what he had done when they had first woken up that morning, Olli peppered Aleksi's neck and jaw with kisses until his lips were at Aleksi's ear. "And I'll make you cum so much I'll still be dripping the next day."

Olli couldn’t make out what Aleksi said next, but his words were cut short anyway when Olli sneaked his hand between them to grab Aleksi's neglected erection, rock-hard and leaking precum on Aleksi's tummy. Glancing down, Olli was nearly overtaken by a craving to pull out of Aleksi so he could pleasure the man with his mouth instead, but when Aleksi clenched around him the very second his fingers wrapped around Aleksi's throbbing cock, he knew he'd have no such willpower by this point.

It did not take more than a few seconds before Olli felt his lover's hot cum flow down his fingers and the shockwaves of Aleksi's orgasm around his own erection. Aleksi was writhing and whining under him, still thrusting against Olli and his hands grasping Olli's hips to keep him close – as if Olli was planning on going anywhere. On the contrary, he sank even deeper inside Aleksi's hole and pounded in with short, rapid thrusts, feeling Aleksi clasp around him even more tightly until he, too, was spurting his seed, deep inside his lover;

until his orgasm took all control over his body and he lost his rhythm, his focus, his determination to keep it together;

until his mind was blank, safe for the stars he was seeing, and for the one thought that coloured all his other thoughts (thankfully he never had that many during a day).

Aleksi. Aleksi. Aleksi.

"Aleksi," he sighed, still inside him, still so completely under his spell that he had no idea how long he had been lying there on top of him, his ear right above Aleksi's heartbeat, before his breathing had evened enough for him to speak again.

Aleksi said nothing in response, but the way he then buried his fingers in Olli's hair indicated he was listening.

"Will we...," Olli heard his own voice waver, so he swallowed and tried again. "Will we see after lunch again?"

It wasn't what he really wanted to ask, and it was such a silly thing to ask anyway, but Olli assumed Aleksi knew what he meant.

"The boys were talking about going out for lunch today," Aleksi told him, and a stupid lump appeared in Olli's throat, until Aleksi added: "But... I think they won't mind if we skip it."

Olli swallowed the lump and whatever follow-up questions he actually meant to ask (will we still be doing this when we're not thousands of miles away from home?) and rested his chin on Aleksi's chest, smiling tiredly up at him.

"I don't think they'll mind it at all."

[bisexualmultifandommess]

There will be no Beach Divorce in my AU Cherik fic because it’s supposed to be happy but I started imagining my AU (where Charles and Erik are married and adopted the students who are young children in first class) with some of the canon elements so that DoFP still happens and now I’m thinking about a depressed Charles struggling to cope with his pain, his telepathy and his husband and some of the kids leaving while their son Hank stayed to take care of his dad.

Also imagine the absolute angst of Erik reuniting with them when they get him out and he has to see how much he’s hurt Charles and to see one of his babies is now a young man and is so mistrusting and angry with him.

I swear I don’t really like to make myself sad but imagine the angst 😭

[blubun0309]

I was thinking about Dandy's 'IMBI' fanfic suddenly, when a thought hit me: Why are the brother's given the senses that they are? Why is Mikey sight, Raph hearing, and Donnie touch?

I think it's subjective, and you can interpret it in any way you deem right, I just wanna put my two cents in. Of course, there's no way of me knowing if this is accurate to Dandy's vision or not, but let me know your own thoughts!

Let's go in order, shall we?

MIKEY

I think Mikey may have been the most difficult to crack, simply because I had no idea what it could represent for his and Leo's relationship. But then I realized, it's not about him and Leo, it's about him and everyone else.

Mikey's the youngest, he's the "baby", the little one, the happy go lucky 'everything's gonna be okay!' guy. His personality paired with his age makes his family baby him or chalk up his reactions to certain situations as him being naive.

But not Leo. Leo treated him like an equal, he's the annoying older brother Mikey looks up to and admires and wants to be like. To Mikey, Leo is his badass, awesome big brother, the only one who he feels doesn't baby him.

So with Leo out of the picture, who's gonna believe him when he says he's seeing the ghost of his presumably dead brother? No one. Because he's "naive".

And they don't believe him, so he and Leo have to PROVE that Leo's alive. And only THEN do they believe it. And, as happy as he is that they can now work on fixing Leo, it still hurts. Because they don't trust him, even though he's so strong as so capable and always razzes his tazz in the coolest ways, they don't trust him, because he's young and "in denial".

Also, Mikey and Leo are probably the most chaotic duo, so them being together so much due to everything previously stated is SO fun. Their interactions are immaculate.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Raph and Donnie are fully at fault here. Considering Leo's circumstances, Mikey was very reckless during the car chase scene, and it made Leo's situation get worse a bit. However, they need Mikey. And Mikey and Leo have an undeniable advantage with Leo being able to walk through walls and warn them for any danger through Mikey. They want a second chance, to make things right, but Donnie and Raph still said no.

I don't blame anyone though, because it's more that their circumstance is difficult and no one knows what to do, what is right or wrong.

Mikey was given that second chance, though. His brother's recognized they needed him. They wanted to bench only Leo, but that blue boy wasn't staying behind no matter what lmao. Which leads us to...

RAPH

Raph's was a bit tricky but also incredibly obvious (I don't know how that works, just roll with it).

Raph and Leo aren't the best at communicating. They end up yelling at each other most of the time. Even with the curse, they still argued through Mikey.

And Leo breaking his promise to Raph on staying behind made Raph even MORE upset. Leo could have dissapeared, he could've been GONE forever, all because he was reckless and followed them despite promising he wouldn't.

But, Raph has to admit, without Leo, they would've been SO lost in that cave, and it was ultimately a good thing that he joined them, but it was still so scary. Who knows what could have gone wrong. He isn't mad at Leo, per se, he's just mad at the circumstances. He wants to keep Leo safe, because Leo is his brother. He's almost lost Leo TWICE, he wasn't going to risk actually losing him again. He didn't WANT to risk it. It's hard to keep Leo, hell, all his brother's safe when what's safe and what's right don't align.

As the eldest, he has to make that call, and it scares him. Leo keeps putting his own well-being down, he keeps putting himself in danger for them, and it scares Raph. It scares all of them.

Raph is frustrated, he lashes out, he hurts his brother's feelings when he only wants to keep him safe. He cares so much for Leo, and he wants what's best for him more than anything, but when Leo doesn't cooperate, it frustrates him.

They have a well needed talk about it, though, and it's very beautiful. Because Leo had just had a talk with Mikey about the exact same thing, about putting oneself in danger without thinking of the consequences, and he understands how Raph feels about it now. Regardless, Raph says he's proud of him, for doing the right thing, and he is.

Raph wants Leo to understand his perspective, how he feels, and once Leo does, it makes things so much easier.

DONNIE

Donnie's is pretty straight forward and DEFINITELY the easiest to understand (at least for me) but, basically...yeah it's because Donnie doesn't like touch, but I have more!

But yes, Donnie is touch repulsed. The best indicator of such is in the movie when Raph has to make it clear that he wasn't giving a hug, it was a rescue. There's more examples but you get the gist. However, there are plenty of times in the show when Donnie is shown being physically affectionate, which leads me to believe it's something that depends on his feelings during any given moment. If he feels like it, he'll be affectionate. And, you know, having his brother almost die and now be a ghost of sorts...yeah, he's not feeling great. Which is why I LOVE him being given touch. Throughout this whole fic, Leo is HEAVILY touch-starved. Bro's a GHOST, of course he is. And now Donnie is placed in a position in which he is quite literally his touch-starved brother's ONLY source of physical affection.

He and Leo had been very distant up until that point due to being unable to, you know, interact at all, and adding the fact that Donnie, in an emotionally bad state, doesn’t like physical affection when it's sudden or in general, it's incredibly interesting to give Donnie the one sense that he's uncomfortable with. He feels bad, because Leo wants to FEEL him and hug him, but he's not in a mental state to reciprocate. He shuts down when he's stressed. That scene where he shakes off Leo's hand after threatening the fire element. Augh, chills, literal chills.

Also. I dunno, but if my ghost brother who I've only known is a ghost for a little while, was suddenly able to touch me without me being able to see it coming...yeah I would be pretty freaked out too.

Also, I think the scene where Raph hugs Donnie is very interesting, because to Leo, it means that Donnie is okay with physical touch, as long as it's not HIM. Now, both feel bad. Donnie for not being able to reciprocate Leo's...(I don't want to say 'adances' because it sound weird but I've got nothing else), and Leo for, in his mind, being 'selfish' for wanting Donnie's affection.

This whole time, Leo was gone for Donnie. Mikey could see him, Raph could hear him, but him and Leo had no way of communicating by themselves.

Which makes that scene where they finally communicate and hug SO much more impactful. When Leo hugs him first, it showed Donnie that Leo wasn't gone, he was here, with him, and he wasn't mad at him. And then Leo got a hug back, he finally, FINALLY got one after two weeks of not being able to touch anything or anyone.

And now, Donnie isn't uncomfortable with Leo's touch. Because now he not only understands that Leo desperately needs affection and he's his only way of getting it, but also Leo isn't gone. He's here, and Donnie will hold him if it means he won't dissapear again. Gosh, I love me some Disaster Twins.

I think IMBI does an incredible job at really laying out all the brother's feelings and relationships with each other in such a beautiful way. Oh my god I love fanfiction.

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

It’d be so incredibly funny if Rory the Roman (Power of Three Rory) got sent back to the past into Vampires of Venice Rory (his body) and both Past Doctor and Past Amy realise how different he is.

Rory the Roman didn’t realise it back then, but the 2 thousand years really did change him. He’s also more nonchalant about dying (which scares Amy)( and the Doctor a little bit because of Past Rory’s whole “You have no idea how dangerous you make people to themselves when you’re around.” quote

Rory has become more fearless, more of a warrior

Yet still kind, still himself

Even as Rory tries not to reveal himself as Future Rory, him understanding the timelines and fixed points so well makes the Doctor suspicious, doesn’t know what to do with him.

Also… Rory the Roman has so much trust in Past Doctor. While Vampires of Venice has none. It reminds Past Doctor of River

Also, Rory the Roman is less jealous than Past Rory

Here are some little snippets that could happen lmao

—

Past Amy POV:

“How do you know how to fight so well?” Amy questioned, trying not to stare at Rory’s…. eyes.

They were piercing, focused yet blank. Her Rory never used to look like that. It makes her nervous and thinks about what the Doctor said. An Imposter. If… If that Rory is an Imposter, then.. where is her real boyfriend?

Despite the differences, she could—she could still see her Rory in him.

“Hm?” He didn’t spare a glance at her, thankfully, he raised the broom in his hand mechanically, more like a soldier than a nurse. “Practiced.”

When? She stopped herself from asking. Instead, they ran to the next room, hiding from the fish alien things that were chasing them all

—

“So… She kissed me.” The Doctor mentioned out of the blue as they walked, repeating what he’d said before, trying to see if Rory was an imposter or not.

Rory made a face at that, grimacing, though he took a long pause before speaking, “So.” What did he say in the past again? “You kissed her back.”

This was a really strange situation to be in, and they had rebooted the universe before! Oh, it was incredibly hard not to think of this Doctor as family, but he knew he had to act less friendly towards him. It made him feel… bad.

Not too bad of course, but, he could empathise with his daughter like this.

oh bloody hell he couldn’t mention river during this whole thing can he?? He’s not supposed to know her!

The Doctor’s brow furrowed slightly but they continued forward.

oh how does River do this…. Trying to talk to younger The Doctor at Lake Silencio was hard enough, and now, the Doctor doesn’t even think of him as his father-in-law friend

He really needed to find a way to contact someone from his future.

OR PO3 Amy fully realising how selfish she was in VOV and noticing VOV Rory’s insecurities much more easily when she’s not burying herself in her own trauma, and she tries very hard to make it up to him, all while trying not to let the timelines fall apart

Just like Rory the Roman, she fails spectacularly hard

Although it was more because, VOV Rory’s unused to the sudden affection PO3 Amy is giving him

[sasukimimochi]

.✦ Blackened Wings. (Pt 1) - Happy Halloween!! 🦇

WC - 1080 ( .MDZS Bat flock AU✦. )

Summary: The siege of burial mounds was set, but upon arrival none were found- all belongings left behind besides the clothes on their backs and Wei Wuxian's scripts. When there is nothing else left behind and no traces to find, what more is there to do than move on?

Timeline: Post first siege on the timeline. Wens/WWX did not die in the seige, and are completely off the map.

Prompt 26, for my Writing/Drawing Challenge- Animal.

.✦

Lan Wangji had been spending a great amount of time with the bats that had chosen to roost under his roof- he knew it wasn’t good practice to be in close contact with them, but he felt especially attached to them since they showed up not too long after Wei Wuxian’s and the Wens disappearance.

He was, of course, distraught. Absolutely devastated and worried- but he was very much wounded, so what could he do in such a state? When he went there to see, there really had been nothing left of them. All of their belongings were still there besides the clothes that were likely still on their backs, and Wei Wuxian’s inventions. 

The assumption was, despite months of searching, that they had all died, ran away, or the most nausea inducing, been secretly done away with or decided to die together on their own terms. There was just no evidence, nothing- it was like they were spirited away. 

Like they never existed.

Lan Wangji had drank that night. So much so that he thought he might disappear too- his brother had brought him home safely though, somehow.

He’d spent the next few nights trying to sneak out, being brought home and at one point even restrained- his family didn’t want him to go on a search for someone they considered evil, but especially when injured and having no leads- he didn’t care. However all he was allowed was time sitting on his deck, the night sky all he had to keep himself from going completely out of touch.

He could remember stories that Wei Wuxian told him as he looked at the stars- how he hoped his parents were two of those very ancient lights watching over him- on a long past anniversary of his mother’s passing.

And then…they came from that sky.

A somewhat large, black and red bat with a group of small white bats- he hadn’t ever seen the small white kind before, but the larger one looked kind of like a flying fox. It was large, but it wasn’t as big as some he’d seen- which made him think it was a different breed than those he’d seen in the past. Its wingspan was impressive, but its body was smaller than a cat’s. The small ones could fit in his palm if they allowed him to hold them, with sunburst orange details and dark gray wings, accented by that same golden color mixed with a light, delicate red on the outer fold of their wings. The smallest of them had an especially brilliant hue and a lovely fluffy white coat, and was the friendliest of the bunch. A baby, he presumed.

He’d focused on them, watching them hang from the beams and all huddle up inside the larger’s wings in what he assumed to be to stay warm. It was still chilly at night, and the white bats were quite small- and as they were white primarily they likely didn’t get a lot of heat retention. The larger bat though was the one who shivered. The smaller ones would huddle close, and eventually the larger one would fall asleep for a short time.

So he watched them, and stopped trying to run away. For some reason the bats stuck around, and one of the smaller ones especially loved to fly over to him and hang off his robes, sit on his shoulder or on his head. The larger one would quickly follow as if worried, but would stay as well when treated to pets and figs. It turned out even the smaller ones ate fruit as well, which he found unusual. He’d never met such small bats that didn’t eat insects and rather ate fruit.

It became his reason to keep going day to day, the only reason he didn’t rush off with his injured body looking for the one he loved. He had to stay here as long as he was injured, but he felt the time was easier now, spending time with his bats.

“A-Ying,” Lan Wangji whispered to the large bat, watching as its head turned to him expectantly. These bats were so smart, and the little things this one did reminded him of all the cute characteristics Wei Wuxian had. Rubbing its nose with its wing, tilting its head when told something curious. He still remembered the angry flapping accompanying a quite squeaky, chittery shriek the bat had made when his uncle had gotten too close to the little white bat. Those two seemed bonded, despite the little one appearing to have some sort of family amongst the other white bats left.

��Is it alright if I name your little one too?” Lan Wangji asked softly, watching as it leaned forward to give him a little lick on the nose with its soft little tongue. He exhaled quietly like an attempt of a laugh despite the exhaustion, listening to the soft mewling and chirps that sounded like real laughter to him.

“What about ‘Sizhui’?”

The bat moved its head back as if it truly understood the words, mouth slightly ajar with its head tilting ever so slightly and eyes wide- as if he was looking into his heart with those dark eyes.

“It is from a poem…do you want to hear?”

The bat chittered quietly in response.

“Yearning for but cannot chase after you, longing for someday when you will return.” He looked outside briefly, where the bats usually were roosting. The bats however were roosting in the corner of his room where it was warm, except for the littlest one currently hooked into his lapels. “It loosely means ‘chasing memories’, or another: ‘to yearn for’.” He gently scratched under the large bat’s jaw, watching its ears vibrate with happiness to the affection, but still stare at him so closely. It was unusual to see the bat this focused.

“Do you like it?”

The bat gently booped their noses together and wiggled its ears again, the soft little clicks bringing the corner of his mouth up, however tired it was. “Little Sizhui then.” 

He paused, remembering the boy that followed at Wei Wuxian’s heels. He called the boy little radish, didn’t he? He missed them so much…

He hadn’t realized he had started to drift to sleep until he felt something soft gently wiping away the tears he hadn’t known he shed. His eyes cracked open just slightly, and he could have sworn he saw pale anthracite blue looking back at him.

✦.

Hope you guys enjoy Halloween! I took time to finish most of chapter 28 instead of working on the second part for this, but just so you know its basically a second perspective with perhaps a bit more addition. It'll be for prompt 18 "Love."! I will hopefully have another part to show you guys before long, but for now i hope you enjoy this ! 🦇 💖

I did a very quick sketch with it, but I apologize cuz it doesn't look too great hahaha I'm just trying to get ahead so I can't spend time on side stuff too much. HAPPY HALLOWEEN! eat lots of candy and enjoy some halloween movies etcetc!!

.✦.👻🦇💀🎃🍬🍭🍫🌙✨✦. *

Read More MDZS stuff I've written or look at more MDZS stuff I've drawn in my masterpost! ❤

-

Random Information about this au:

WWX turned himself and the Wens into bats together to “disappear”. The bats start roosting under the edge of the Jingshi roof in the corner and LWJ watches them during his recovery days. He thinks it's in his head that two of them remind him of wwx & wy but doesn't care - he protects them now, and even a bit of the vice versa.

WWX is a fruit bat (I felt like a flying fox would be too big), and the wens are Honduran white bats. They are seen as a flock, despite WWX presenting as a different breed. They CAN change at will, except for Wen Yuan which WWX keeps tight control of because he’s a kid and accidents can happen. They don’t though, so the Lans assume they are all just regular bats that have taken a liking to the Jingshi roofing.

(Extra: convo excerpts when developing, it won't be completely cohesive):

Sasu: Someone is mean to LWJ (forcing him to accept liquor, etc etc) bat wwx pops out and starts squeaking at them from inside his lapels. It scares em off (works almost everytime).

A-Yuan is still little so he stays on LWJs shoulder half the time (tucked under wwx wing the rest of the time).

Yuyu: “Pristine cultivator Hanguang-Jun” chilling in front of his uncle who’s seething. Cause there’s two bats on his nephew; One is chewing his ribbon.

Yuyu: Would be funny if only wwx was the big bat and all the wens and a-yuan were just-

A tiny mob of fluffs under his wing

Sasu: jfhshfjfj beautiful, I like the idea. Maybe not a flying fox size cuz that's huuuuuuge but fruit bat. still big enough!

Yuyu: Everyone in Gusu just sighs as they now not only got “totally not pets” bunnies but bats too. Wangji privilege smh

I like to imagine Qiren is like….slightly afraid of the larger bat

Sasu: all the Lans start to like the small bat flock tho cuz the big one brings bugs and fruits to the small ones

they also don't poop there which is a plus xD

I'm sure they wouldn't like guano on Gusu paths

Yuyu: Omg.

Maybe one of the smaller bats got stuck in Qiren’s closets or something 

And well….

Qiren might explode

Sasu: jfhsgdjfb LMAO LWJ is just like “why did you close them in there” and just babies the bat and feeds it a berry or smth

Yuyu: The lost bat was a-yuan ಥ_ಥ Hence wwx was just panicking flying everywhere

Sasu: I think wwx woulda led them to the closet and just sqUEAK

Qiren: "no u cant get in there!" but then heard the other squeaks gjhsgxjf

LWJ just following them around like what's wrong and that's how he ends up on the scene jfjshdhf much bat cuddles after that

Yuyu: wlskjheiocewin one day LWJ just full on cuddles bat wwx like a plushy and wwx bat is just (a bunch of flustered emojis) And all the other bats are just looking at him from the other side of the room like e u e

Sasu: HAHAHAHA they know they for sure know- god I'm dying a little imagining LWJ petting wwx slowly while he's going to sleep like he's a cat (and falls asleep with his hand on him)

Yuyu: God imagine if that’s how he poofs back into a human- /jk

Sasu: ignshdjfn fruits basket style. imagine he wakes up and sees the bat replaced with wwx nods

Yuyu: Wwx has not dared to move all night

Sasu: wwx panic shifts back into a bat and LWJ wonders if he was seeing things

Yuyu: Just eyes his water next to his bed all suspiciously……"did i accidentally drink"

Sasu: hfhsbdjd - he starts calling the bat a-ying (cuz wei ying would be too on point) and the bat seems a little flighty so he's like ‘did i catch smth’ nfhshdjjf he's sus but also doubtful haha ‘maybe i offended him’

aw but imagine he like recognizes mannerisms in bat wwx that human wwx would do, like rubbing his wing over his nose a lot, having human like expression and these squeaks that seem like laughter (and he of course gets scary or protective depending on who he's with) so he act like air puppy sometimes or shows his teeth at other times and he likes to wrap his wings over LWJs shoulders to have a full body rest

Yuyu: A living blanket

Sasu: mn, living blanket with claws

Yuyu: Lwj has learned not to voice this opinion out loud or the bat gets upset (A puppy! Of all things)

Sasu: kfhsgzcjfj hahaha- that’s just the term for fruit bats they’re nicknamed air puppies. I don't think LWJ would call him that, maybe some juniors tho haha

Yuyu: Jingyi

Sasu: pft haha Jingyi bonds with bat a-yuan nods the bat LWJ personally named Sizhui because he is small and reminds him of the little boy wwx once cared for owo

so a-yuan is a shoulder bat for Jingyi a lot when he's in his kid years

Jingyi says he's his best friend and has to be convinced to leave the bat at home when training dnhdgshsj

Yuyu: Mo Xuanyu lives in this? I can imagine him being absolutely infatuated with the bats, also hilarious if he looks at wwx bat for like 1 min and is just ... leans in whispering, Yiling Patriarch!?

Sasu: wwx, internally: that's my name don't wear it out

wwx, outside: angry bat flutters

how would he recognize tho

vkjdhdj hahaha

Yuyu: Haah love bats, wonderful stuff

Sasu: Bats are the best (❁´◡`❁) ❤

[zipzapzopzoop]

The Prodigal Son

Fritz is the only one left. He knows it's time to go. He asks to say goodbye to his son one last time.

(Warning - this ficlet is a bit dark. Read at your own risk)

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

Soundtrack recommended for best experience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLfkhY3IxpU

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

He’d been expecting this day to come for quite some time now… but that didn’t make it any easier.

There was nothing easy about watching the broken husk of your child standing before you.

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

Their group had been dwindling for a while. His son and daughter had been taken by those parasitic hats months ago. Months? Years? He couldn't remember. The sky was so overcome with smoke and pollution, there was no telling the day from the night.

Fritz had gone out alone for supplies and had returned to the destroyed remains of what was left of the once lively Robinson house. It had been converted to a fallout shelter at the beginning of the end of the world. 

But now, that little light had been snuffed out by the hats. That’s all those hats do. 

Take.

They take and take and never give anything back. They took the city, they took the people, they took the world, and they took every living thing in it. 

And yet they wanted more.

Moments ago, Fritz had stepped into the dark space, quietly calling out to the others. No answer came. They were gone. Enslaved. More mindless workers for the parasites that ran the world straight to hell.

Fritz looked around, suddenly noticing the figure waiting in the darkness for him. Watching him, even if he wasn’t exactly seeing him. Fritz was too far into the room to make a break for it. Even if he did… did it matter? Now that the others are gone…

Fritz was the only one left.

“I…” His voice wavered. “...I see you.”

With a low hum, the signature red light of a helping hat lit up in the darkness. The figure began to move closer, the sound of shoes not clacking, but dragging on the ground as he approached. One more of those hats hovered broodingly next to him, following closely. Fritz knew it would be for him.

When the figure got close enough, Fritz felt his eyes well with tears.

It was his son.

Laszlo stood before him, slack-jawed and braindead, filthy from the dirt and pollution and muck that covered every square inch of this damn city. He smelled heavily of smoke from the ever burning furnaces he had to help run. It was either those or the coal mines. 

Though the hat already covered his eyes, his dirty red hair hung down across parts of his face. His skin was a sickly pale color, and he was dangerously malnourished and weak. His father didn’t need to see his face to see he was completely exhausted. Just another slave to those cold, metallic parasites.

It broke Fritz’s heart.

Every few seconds, Laszlo would twitch slightly - even if just a head tilt or one of his fingers twitching. The man knew it was his son trying to fight back. He was still in there, he knew. 

Even if there was little he could do, he was aware of what was happening. He knew his dad was in danger, and he was using the little strength he had left to fight.

Laszlo wheezed slightly. Fritz blinked. He was trying to speak. The artist wasn’t able to form coherent words, only small sounds. But it didn’t matter... Fritz understood what he was trying to say. 

“Mmn srr-”

“It’s okay,” He hid the despair in his voice for the young man’s sake. He had to be strong for him.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Fritz pulled the backpack off his back and set it on the ground. Moving slowly, he kneeled down to dig around for a bottle of water and a rag. The lone hat began to move towards him and - despite nearly jumping out of his skin - Fritz put up a quick hand. 

“Please. I know you’re going to take me.. and… I’m not going to stop you. But if this is the last moment I get to share with my son, at least let me say goodbye.”

Some beeps and whirs came from the hat. There was no telling what it said, but it stayed put. It seemed she allowed it.

He uncapped the bottle of clean water and carefully held it up for the artist to drink. Even through the hat’s control, he could tell it was very appreciated. After that, he took what was left of the water and wet the rag. Reaching up, he gently cleaned the dirt from his son’s face, moving his hair to the side so it was out of the way. For a moment, just a moment, it felt just like when his son was little, and Fritz used to clean dried paint off his face.

“There you are. I missed you,” Fritz smiled sadly. “Every day. Every single day.”

Fritz wanted so desperately to ask about Tallulah. To make sure she was okay. But he knew he couldn’t. Laszlo could barely move, let alone speak. He just wanted his children to be okay.

…But it was too late for that now.

Knowing it was time to go, Fritz reached forward and pulled his son into one last hug. 

Laszlo began to wheeze again. “Ah- l… lv..”

“Shh… I love you too.”

Fritz held him tight, wishing he could take it all away. All the pain, all the hurt, all the fear… all of it.

Gently, Laszlo managed to get enough control to rest his chin on his dad’s shoulder. Fritz felt himself begin to cry that time. He couldn’t stop it, and he didn’t care. He rocked them both slightly, relishing in these final moments.

He couldn’t see the tears pouring down his son’s face, either. He couldn’t see the way his son’s face was contorted in grief for his father. For his sister. For his family. For the world.

“Okay. Go ahead.” Fritz spoke to the machine.

A couple beeps sounded in response and the hat settled itself atop the man’s head, covering his eyes.

He felt the soft fabric of the hat on his head.

He felt his son’s heart beating against his own.

And then he felt nothing at all.

Yes, the prodigal son had returned. There were no parties or celebrations. Just a final moment between a father and son. No banquets or feasts, only a small drink of water. There was no festival, only a warm embrace.

Laszlo wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

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

Check out the story on my Archive!

[tervaneula]

(This is an edit of the pic I drew for chapter 15)

Maybe in another universe? 😭 I wish NQK was this, but it's not, and I have no idea why I had to hurt myself (and Leonardo) like this. Oh my gohdfsjdvdhdhfjgj. Screams falls down on knees cries throws up etc

[nox-in-a-box]

Watched the first one of the four episodes that have Miss Nettle in them. Realised that for extra research, I may need to watch Sleeping Beauty as well to get to know the three fairies' personalities better, because I might want to flesh out Miss Nettle's backstory a bit. What do you guys think?

[bg-sparrow]

A few of us have thrown together a collab again in which Doc and Marty somehow prevent major historical events and, after realizing they screwed up the future, have to ensure those events happen. The collab is titled History's Gonna Change, and we each picked a different event!

🎶 G U E S S W H A T I P I C K E D 🎶

(Come on, guys. You know me by now. You HAD to know this was happening.)

Title: It is Fog That We Fear (Chapter 1 of History's Gonna Change) Rating: T Words: 6K Genre: Angst, Alternate History Summary: After Marty completes his first assignment as an intern at the Institute of Future Technology, he and Doc return to a reality that makes Hell Valley look like “A Nice Place to Live.” Or: One might think the only thing truly affected by the non-sinking of the Titanic would be a delay in lifeboat legislation. One would be wrong. Doc and Marty certainly are. Notes: I had so much fun researching this. In case you couldn't tell. :)

[crocuta-corvax]

Got Mint? (Part 1) - Isekai Bad Batch

Author’s Notes: Crosshair loves mouth stuff, he especially loves your mouth, the mint is just an added bonus. - I'm going off the notion, if it isn't mentioned in SW canon, i can pretend if it is/isn't real, I've decided mint how we know it doesn't exist in SW universe as far as they know ¬u¬ Haha wow I finished the first half, I have more for this prompt planned. Relationships: Crosshair x Reader Tags & Warnings: Smooching, Oral Fixation, +18?? I think, it's very earnest kissies

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do we do if he sees us?" Both you and Crosshair had been sent to tail a target for Cid, and now together you were standing watching a nervous looking Rodian make his rounds at every stall in the bustling marketplace from a quiet off-the-street courtyard.

"Nothing."

You're familiar with his curt answers now, it wasn't necessarily from rudeness, Crosshair just didn't waste his breath on more words than were necessary.

"Right..." you huff, a little agitated at the waiting and pop a piece of gum in your mouth. Crosshair watches as you do this, he'd always been curious about this gum stuff you always had with you, but never asked, it seemed to be your equivalent of his toothpicks, an oral focus that helped him concentrate. He figured it best to leave it to you, after all, you'd been teleported here from another universe whilst you'd been out doing a "supply run", and of all the food you had with you, this was all that was left. Someone Wrecker had already eaten most of the rest, but you'd staunchly protected the gum like a Pyke with Spice. He didn't want to take your "toothpicks" from you.

You can feel Crosshair's eyes on you as you watch the Rodian slowly make his way toward your vicinity. The feel of his gaze sends a flush of warmth to your face and neck- to think you had THE Crosshair staring at you right now, if the Clone Appreciation Community back on Earth could see this, they'd flip their shit.

Over the past few months of your “accidental” arrival in this universe he'd gone from being deeply suspicious, to warming up to you, to the two of you being so comfortable just existing in each others spaces that you had no doubt that he harboured feelings for you on some level- he'd be busy cleaning his Firepuncher while you would lay across his lap doing the "homework" Tech had given you to help get to grips with this universe. You treasured your alone time, so did he, but being alone with him was somehow so much better.

And of course there was the purposefully teasing you- he enjoyed getting you riled up with rampant flirting, slightly too long hugs, lingering touches and near kisses. You wondered if that's what he was doing right now, with his eyes still fixed on you, plotting a new way to rile you up.

You dare a glance over at him and he's smirking at you, of course he is, "Can I help you?" he drawls, making you roll your eyes playfully,

"You're supposed to be watching." you sigh, casually discarding the finished gum in a nearby bin. He rolls the toothpick between his teeth while maintaining his smouldering gaze on you, "I am."

His words send another flush of heat to your cheeks and he chuckles before flicking away his toothpick and leaning over you, one arm resting on the wall above you, kriff he's so fucking tall, "Our mark is too close, we need a distraction." He gently grabs your chin as you start to turn to see, "Don't look." He leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, a soaring feeling rushes up through your body as you bite your lip. In this moment he could do anything to you you realise, and you wanted him to.

"They always get uncomfortable with public affection." he murmurs against your mouth, gently ghosting his lips across yours as a silent request, one you eagerly permit by parting your lips and closing the searing hot space between the two of you.

Your lips practically melt against his as Crosshair gently pulls you closer into his body, one hand secure around your waist, while the other slowly traces along your jaw. Kriff, he's so warm...

Having never tasted mint before, your sweet cold breath had Crosshair intrigued. Running his tongue over your lips to gain entry to your mouth, that you so deliciously granted, had him reeling in pleasure at the taste of your tongue on his. How could someone taste so good? His grip on your waist tightened a little and the hand he had been using to send shivers down your neck moved to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair and gripping just a little, as he deepened the kiss, causing you to softly moan into his mouth, your fingers digging into his back as you held on to him.  

After what felt like a delectable eternity of his mouth on yours, you pull away to catch your breath, and look up at Crosshair who briefly scans the marketplace before turning back to you with that sly smile of his, "I think it worked."

"Oh, good. Good..." the surprise as to what just transpired has you flustered while Crosshair gazes down at you, revelling in the fact that he finally got to kiss you, and leaving him wanting more of the delicious lingering tingle of mint you left on his mouth.

[gideonthefirst]

Reconstruction

Midst, Moc Weepe, 3.6k, warning for graphic torture.

Moc Weepe has spent a lot of his life in a lot of pain, and it's all starting to blur together.

We’ll leave Weepe some privacy here. Or, well, that’s not correct. We’ll leave this moment of Weepe’s suffering and humiliation, which some might agree he deserves, to take you to another, perhaps more important moment. Normally we wouldn’t do this, but he’s having a difficult time telling them apart these days. Or hours. He’s not sure. He’s in quite a lot of pain, have we mentioned? Regardless, that’s enough of that for now.  A coffin drifts. On closer examination, it isn’t a coffin, exactly, but rather an iron maiden. Sort of a silly choice on the part of the United Baronies, but we can’t blame them for an affinity for drama. The iron maiden, then, drifts downwards through the Fold. It glows, brightly and steadily. Its glow illuminates the path it has fallen from, leaving a long bright streak behind it, and it shines downward, too, down and deep, but not deep enough to reach the bottom, or even solid ground. 

Read from the beginning here