#but ouchie thing on my arm will be gone!

[aniseandspearmint]

Owwwww, wtf is this TIMING body? We have minor surgery tomorrow and NOW is the time you decide to do the bleeding and pain?

I forced myself to eat some ham and pita crackers and a little cheese earlier so at least I don't have to try and do food for a while.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Headcanon with TF141 & König with Fem! Reader who had amnesia after loss blood from battlefield and how would the mens react. Pls!

Oof ouchie owie my heart 😭 this is so mean I love it 😭😭😭😭 (I’m not crying YOU’RE crying)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

When the nurse told him you suffered amnesia due to the severity of your injuries, he didn’t want to believe it. He refused. Even though they told him it could last a few minutes to several weeks or months, he didn’t want to believe it.

So he went to visit you, sat beside your bed, balaclava twisting nervously in his hands as he watched you sleep. He eventually dozed off, arms crossed over his chest, head resting back against the wall. He woke up to a soft prodding at his shoulder,

“Excuse me, are you the nurse?” You’d asked, throat hoarse and exhaustion evident.

“Who do you think I am?” He asked, his heart beat so hard in his throat, his stomach churning and heavy, he felt violently ill

“I… don’t know to be honest. I’m not sure why or how I got here.” Your voice was small and uncertain and fuck he wanted to cry. His eyes burned and his throat threatened to shut.

What should he do? Tell you what happened and risk further trauma? He’s the reason you were out here in the first place. What’s the right thing to do? What would you do in his position?

“Sir? I’m sorry, I’m just really thirsty. I’m sorry to bug you.”

“Don’t sweat it, here, have my water.” He uncapped his water bottle and got up to bring it to your lips, you took it from his hands before he could tip it back,

“I’ve got it, thank you.” You said with a weak chuckle. At least that’s still the same. He watched you drink your water, weighing his options in his head. If the roles were reversed, you’d be honest with him. Gentle, but firm. Even if it pained you, you’d tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

He was a both a coward and glutton for pain.

“You can call me Ghost, for now.”

He still wasn’t sure if he’d tell you about all the nights spent together, all the mornings you had breakfast in the mess hall together, your apartment that you shared, the tattoo he has under his collarbone of your callsign or the matching one you got of a skull on your hip. This could be his chance to spare you the pain of sticking around him any longer.

But he’s selfish, in that sense. He’s had you, he can’t lose you now.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s devastated. He’s absolutely heartbroken, there’s no way this is happening. He’s convinced it’s not real. It’s a bad dream and he’ll wake up in your arms and it’ll be gone. How he wishes that was true.

He comes into your room, the nurses words echoing in his head, triggering his tinnitus, making him nauseous. His legs are horribly unsteady and his hands have never shook this hard. He feels like such a fool for being so fucking weak in front of you like this.

This isn’t about him, it’s about you. It’s all about you, it’s about setting things right with you, it’s about bringing you back to him. It’s all about you.

He sat beside your bed and waited for you to wake up, and when you did you smiled so wide when you looked at him, that he honestly believed the nurses were wrong

“This might be wildly inappropriate, but you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

God how he wished the nurses were wrong.

“Could say the same for you, love.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and stamped out the ache in his chest

“Love?” You blinked in confusion, “are you my- oh god, I’m sorry, I… I don’t remember.”

“It’s alright, the nurses said it could happen. You’ve been through a lot.”

“If I’m here then, yeah, seems like.” You chuckled dryly,

“I’m Johnny.” He held his hand out to yours, you took it and couldn’t help how soothing his palm felt against yours as you introduced yourself shyly.

He could be strong. For you. He’d do anything for you, whether you wound up remembering or not, it didn’t matter. He’d do anything.

John Price:

He’s shell shocked. Please god no. Not you. Please sweet fucking Christ, not you. He doesn’t go to see you right away, he sits in his office quietly. He’s sitting in the dark, replaying the events that led up to this over and over in his head like a fucked movie on loop.

He snaps. He’s flinging everything off his desk, it’s all flying to the floor, he’s screaming, crying, raging. The team hears it and they all run to his office, Ghost is the only one to successfully hold him back. He eventually gives up and starts sobbing. Perception be damned.

He’s clutching onto Simon like his life depends on it, Soap and Gaz quietly start picking stuff up off the floor,

“Come on, mate, she needs you. Clean up and go.” He’s not stupid. He’s seen you two, seen the way you are with one another. It’s the best kept secret of the 141.

“I know. Fuck, I know.”

He hesitantly walks to your room, his heart pounding a mile a minute, he hears you talking to the nurse and you sound a little hoarse but it also sounds like you’re drinking water. He waits until you’re done talking and walks in, he steps aside to let the nurse walk out and sits beside you,

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Not great but the pain meds help.” You laughed weakly, “and you must be?”

“John.”

“John…?”

“Just John.” He sighed, slowly taking one of your small hands in his, giving you every opportunity to withdraw, “Your John.”

He’s a patient man. He can wait.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

He’s in tears before the nurse even has a chance to walk away, Price has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to keep him grounded

“None of that, Gaz, just go see her. Somewhere in her heart, she’ll be happy to see you.” His words were reassuring and it helped give him the boost he needed to go and see you.

So he did, with an arm full of flowers, your favorite snack and candies, and fruits of course. He came in and set them down at the table quietly, watching you watch him as he did so. He took a deep shaky breath and pulled the chair up to the bed.

“Is that all for me?” You asked with a shy smile, even under the unflattering glow of the fluorescent lights above you, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen,

“Yup. I thought if I’d brought you the things you like, it might help you recover your memory.” He swallowed his tears, swallowed the lump in the throat, he’d set it all aside because there’s work to be done.

“I take it you and I are quite close then?”

“As close as two people can get, without being related.”

“Hm. That makes me happy, you seem really sweet…?”

“Kyle. Or Gaz. But you’ve always called me by my name.”

His heart skipped a beat when you tried his name out, getting a feel for it on your tongue, and then you smiled softly at him.

It’ll be hard work but fuck you’re so worth it.

König:

He feels violently ill. He’s nauseous through and through, he’s in shock, he’s grieving, he’s mourning, he’s furious, he’s appalled, he’s miserable

It’s all playing over and over and over and over again, the exact moments that led up to this. You trusted him and let you down. He fucking let you down. He ruined it. He ruined the one good thing he had going for him in this shithole. It’s gone it’s all fucking gone. And it’s all his fault.

All of that was repeating in his head as he punched a hole in the tile in the bathrooms, it repeated when he’d try to sleep until you woke up, it repeated while he’d wait for you, it repeated until there was nothing but self-inflicted venom pumping in his system, circulating mercilessly

And then you woke up. He’d at least had the presence of mind to take his veil off so he wouldn’t startle you, but in his vitriol he forgot something,

“You’ve got a little something on your uh… all of that.” You sleepily laughed, pointing at your eyes,

“Ah yes, that’s intentional.”

“Why?” You blinked in confusion, weakly trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes,

“Helps keep me concealed when I wear this.” He lifted the veil in his hands for you to see,

“I imagine it’s hard to do with your size.”

“It can be but I’m quite determined.”

“You seem upset, I take it you and I are close and the nurses told you?”

He gently took your small hand in his, his eyes watering, lower lip starting to quiver,

“Oh schatz, you have no idea.” His voice shook and your heart broke for him, his accent brought you peace even if you couldn’t exactly remember why, you could still put the pieces together. You don’t know why, but you wanted to be strong for him,

“Then give me an idea.”

[hells-greatestdad]

Summary of Major Events in Unholy Crusade, in-universe August 8th and after

August 8th at midnight, God had a stand-off with Eve to release the colossi from Purgatory.

Later that in-universe morning saw the first battle taking place in Heaven, one of the colossi from Purgatory

Rest under cut, cuz there is A LOT

Please note that this summary is heavily from my own perspective. It helps that my muse plays a very major role in all this, but it's quite possible that I'm missing out on some important detail

Shortly thereafter, another threat showed up in Greed Ring in Hell. An angel came to punish and test Greed. Mammon called for backup and Lucifer and Philza (formerly Azrael angel of death, one of Lucifer's brothers from Heaven)

The battle was pretty tough and Lucifer got knocked unconscious because the absolute dumbass forgot he's a demon and holy light will burn his ass (aka mun rolled a nat 20 for damage, ouchies)

Philza saved Lucifer by taking him away from the battle so he'd be safe, healed him a bit. Lucifer was able to wake up the next turn.

However, while Lucifer was unconscious….

Stuff was going on in Heaven. And Hell. Charlie was trying to figure out how to bring everyone together in unity, since God had declared her to be "the key" in all of this, and she asked her mother to remove the barrier in Pride Ring that barred easy travel to other rings by the Sinners

Charlie also wrote a speech and had it broadcast over Alastor's radio tower. Since Lilith has an agreement with Vox that he will air all messages from the royal family, her message gets played across the media to all of Hell, too.

Charlie ends up summoned to Heaven to help with the fight there. …..sadly. She sacrifices herself to take down the colossi.

Another round of fights begin, and Lucifer, who had been knocked unconscious and literally just woke back up and healed himself to full health, was teleported to a different fight. Leaving Mammon and Philza to summon Asmodeus to help with Angela, who had summoned ANOTHER angel named Ash. Oh, and there's a giant wolf they had been fighting, too.

Other battles are taking place. Adam nearly dies in his, then Lute takes his place.

The next round of fights are characters who had witnessed multiple cycles, more than millions of cycles failing to get past all of them. Lucifer gets to fight his brother Michael, who informs him of Charlie's unfortunate death.

The battle includes Lucifer, Sera, and Emily against Michael. The battle sees Sera's death, and Lucifer only just barely manages a victory. He deals the killing blow to Michael. He lost a limb during the battle, Michael having lopped off his right arm.

Lilith faces a Divine version of Lucifer, who as you know, nearly kills her. She calls on an angel named Seraph as backup, and Pentious answers her prayer for aid.

Now all of this is written as heavily from my perspective, so other people would do well to jump in if I'm missing anything important.

Lilith is able to defeat divine Lucifer with the help of Seraph.

Lucifer tries to get in contact with everyone after his battle. He meets up briefly with Lilith and they have a moment. He then goes to meet with Paimon and Mammon, who are not doing well with the whole "unity" thing they are being told is so important. Lucifer hears Paimon out and is able to bring him over. Mammon was already convinced by Roo and others, but begrudgingly. Lucifer had just been told it might be best that he speak to Mammon too.

There is a confrontation between Lucifer and Philza over the death of Michael, specifically that Lucifer killed him, since the news is very sudden. Lucifer has a complete mental breakdown and ends up being comforted by Philza.

Lucifer gets some much needed rest. Boi is exhausted.

Emily is now High Seraphim of Heaven, with Sera gone. She calls to meet with some people, including Lucifer and Lilith. Lilith shows up since Lucifer is busy.

So, during this, they have a week, possibly two, before the final battle comes. "Mother".

The next day, his wife is suddenly terrified of him. It comes to light that Lilith is dealing with a trauma response, from having fought with Divine Lucifer. Sadly, the appearance of her own husband is bringing that experience back. They end up sleeping in separate rooms for a bit, Lucifer having to keep his distance. But he does sweet things for Lilith, like making meals and leaving rubber ducks and puns and stuff and giving her things she likes.

Lilith eventually decides she's tired of being scared of her own husband, and they start sharing a bed again.

During this time, they have to try and prepare and try and foster and encourage unity between Heaven and Hell. Not just the leaders, but the people, too. This won't work unless the people are just as on board as the leadership.

So right now, it's just preparing things.

The ideas at play right now:

-playing the "test" battle that took place on August 4th that involved Charlie, Philza, and one other. Showing Hellborn (Charlie) working together with an angel (Philza) across the media

-form a council meant to watch over matters between Heaven and Hell, made up of both Heavenborn and Hellborn. So far, candidates for those on this list include Rosie and Carmilla. Lucifer and Lilith are still working on some details before this is presented to Emily

- meet with Saint Pentious and thank him in person. They also want to ask if he'd be willing and able to speak on behalf of unity

Some of the battles of the other characters brought in (Harbringers) are still ongoing with the irl muns. 3 of them, I think?

Also, Adam sewer slided (or more like tried to kill God by blowing himself up??), but God brought him back to life.

Oh! God also restored Lucifer's arm. Which he was not expecting.

Lucifer has also received some advice from Angela, including to ask God to restore his arm. And she gave him 4 summoning feathers for the battle ahead.

This is all the major stuff that I remember.

[th4saapobangpo]

Omg! I love your BTS porn link! Ah, I feel like I need a drabble of Yoongi's "Let me do it the right way baby" 💦🥺

The right way // Idol!Yoongi x reader

MINORS DNI!! // wordcount: 380 // ♜

POV: Reader

I know that what I've done was bad, but he's been gone for so long !

And it was just this one time ..

POV: third person.

When Yoongi finally arrived at your shared home from his tour, the last thing he was expecting was a needy doll desperately trying to stuff her fingers into her pretty little pussy, not knowing how it's done correctly because her daddy’s always there to do it for her

,,Look who's being such a horny babydoll, couldn't even wait for her daddy and even worse, can't seem to pleasure herself properly since her daddy always spoils her with orgasms, doesn't he?

He cooed, with a playfully mocking undertone dripping like venom from his voice.

Slowly approaching his now whimpering baby girl, he looks down at her with her legs spread and pussy on full display.

,,Stand up for me baby. ‘’

So, you do, and he takes a seat on the couch behind you.

He pulls your half naked body onto his fully clothed lap. And keeps your legs and body in place with one arm while the other travels to your cunt, playing with it like a cat with its wool.

,,Relax baby, let me do it the right way, doll.’’

 And with that, he spat on his fingers and went feral on your pussy. Hitting your sweet spot repeatedly with his long and slender fingers.

POV: Reader

He is so good I feel like my brain’s going to melt away.

,,So, d-deep daddy!’’

 I managed to moan out but only he only chuckles picking his pace up.

Right before I was finally going to cum, he pulls his fingers out of my glistening cunt to which I whine in a bratty tone demanding his fingers back in me, but he only tugs at my top, exposing my tits.

He then immediately grabs both and gives them a firm squeeze.

,,Ouchie, too hard!’’

With one hand on my tit, the other one finally gives me what I've been yearning for; A good squirt!

It ends up all over our couch and his pants.

,,Whoopsie.. ‘’

 I mumble out.

He lets out a small laugh and frees my tit while kissing my cheek and whispering;

,,Daddy is finally home baby, he missed you a lot!’’

This is a little over 100 words so...

I'll just call it a triple drabble or smth , Hope ya'll like it , and I'd appreciate feedback in the comment section (btw this was my first smut..)

[possessionisamyth]

hey, adding on to my last post about trans girl usopp with an idea that's been menacing me since i got off work today but

Alright, we got the usual strawhat team split because Oda doesn't know how to juggle that many characters at once, and it's Usopp, Nami, and Sanji doing recon. The original plan is for Nami to distract the grunts while Usopp shoots a plant onto one of the main monitoring devices. Sanji is really only there in case things go to shit. However, Usopp realizes that Nami can screw up the monitoring device with her staff, and the idea of playing the distracting damsel is now something she is eager to try for the first time. She begs Nami who denies her at first but figures no real harm will come by it. She does emphasize to Usopp NOT to over do it or else they'll see right through her.

Usopp agrees and unbuttons the two singular buttons on her cute blouse before darting out there. She executes the distressed damsel role a little hammy but the grunts are really into it. Usopp has one fist under her chin, her lips pouting as she points to the left while she recalls where her "lost dog" might've run off to. Her boobs bounce. The grunts follow the movement. She points to the right just as sharply. The grunts follow the movement. Then she squishes her chest between her bent arms as if frustrated, and the grunts are scrambling to do what she's asked.

Nami manages to get the monitoring device obscured and then starts watching this act. She notes where Usopp took pointers from her own past performances until she smells smoke. Sanji is catching on fire, and he looks pissed. Nami immediately tries to salvage the situation. She pats him down with her jacket to no avail. She slaps him with no response. Eventually she ends up with her hands on his chest and says in her cutest voice "ouchie~!" which snaps Sanji out of it as he tries to make sure she's okay. Nami assures him she only got burned a tiny bit (a lie), and Sanji gives her some distance. However, he catches the leftover grunts who were taking their sweet time leaving ogling Usopps' cute act and the fire returns with a vengeance.

Suddenly, Nami is yanking on the bottom hem of Sanji's shirt being dragged steadily out of their hiding spot as he starts to stomp over there. She's loudly whispering "No! No! Stop! Sanji! You fucking idiot!" It's a miracle the rest of the grunts dash off before they're heard or spotted.

Usopp excited and feeling so euphoric about the experience asks Nami how she did. Nami says she did great, but Sanji almost blew their cover. Usopp looks around for a second and asks where Sanji is. Nami looks around and makes the most distressed whimper as she realizes where that idiot man has gone. He went to kick those guys asses for staring at his girlfriend's boobs. Worst recon job ever.

[the-kr8tor]

TWO THINGS.. one. Hobie would be so disappointed in me rn- I accidentally allowed my piercings to get infected two. The cake-kiss thing is solely an Australian thing im pretty sure? Daily Hobie HC! You watched Hobie begin raking up the fallen leaves on your front yard, his scarf bunched up around his neck as he buried his chin in it, raking up the crunchy, multi-coloured leaves into a large pile in the middle. You were watching him(his ass) as he worked, drinking the hot chocolate that he had given you. Hobie kept a close eye on you, not allowing you to move from your spot on the stairs unless you finished your hot cocoa. Once you did, however, you placed it on the top of the small flight of stairs, before grabbing the other rake and sneaking up behind Hobie. You clash your rake against his as a declaration for a small, playful swordfight, to which he gladly indulges in. Hobie whirls around, bumping the prongs of his rake against yours, batting you back with a smirk, before being slightly taken offguard when you aim for his legs, causing him to jump back. Hobie chuckles as you take the upper hand, now leading him backwards. His spidey senses alerted him that he came too close to the autumn-leaf pile, yet ignored it and fell in with a muffled grunt. He feels his heart pounding loudly in his chest at the sound of your laughter, attempting to turn around and 'swim' around in the pile of leaves. Disappearing under the crunchy leaves, you ponder where he had gone. Dropping your rake, you circle the pile, before you feel a pair of warm palms grab onto your waist, pulling you in. Hobie drags you into the leaf pile as well with a toothy smirk, letting you 'drown' in the pile as he attempts to use you to get out of the pile himself. Unfortunately, it doesn't go to plan as you have other intentions, pulling him down in the same fashion. He watches as you 'swim' your way to the top, your head poking out of the large, shifting pile of crunchy leaves. Hobie is quick to appear next to you, wriggling his arms out and pulling you towards him. Hobie presses his lips to yours, tasting the hot cocoa still lingering on your lips with a hum. As he pulled away, he tilts his head up with a wide smile, his dimples almost making your heart melt if it wasn't for his comment about how he makes a better hot cocoa than you. He and you both knew it wasn't true, but he knew you couldn't help but get him back for it. You lunged forward at him, messily meeting his lips before drowning in the pile of leaves once more. Understandably, you both struggled for a few minutes, both pulling and pushing towards the thick center of the pile. Finally, Hobie and you managed to tumble out, with you landing on top of him. Hobie chuckles at you, before he notices your lips hovering over his for a kiss. His eyes flutter close, awaiting for your sweet lips to meet Hobie's...however, when the moment doesn't come, he opens his eyes again to see your mischievous expression. You kiss the tip of his nose, quickly getting off him and running away, not even waiting for Hobie to get his bearings. You knew he was stupidly fast, so you weren't going to waste any time in attempting to escape him. -🐦‍⬛

Oh no!!! Ouchie! Dw accidents happen, it'll heal!

So that's why I don't know abt it!

Daily Hobie HC!! 🎉

THIS GOT ME YEARNING!!!!! OH THE DOMESTICITY OF IT ALL THE LOVE AND SWEETNESS OF THIS HAS ME IN A TIGHT GRIP

I want this where do I get this life?

Awww the little kissy kissy in the pile of leaves!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

"Watching his ass" where ass? 🤨 Is the ass in the room with us now? (Ngl I'd watch his surfboard butt anyday)

[obetrolncocktails]

In regards to this supposed theory about WAYL...

So I wrote parts of a fic based on Waited All Your Life with Jake in a hospital a month or two ago...so if you want ouchie, here's a snippet.

Warnings: Hospitals, sickness, sadness, anxiety.

Josh would simply refuse to exist without Jake. Listening to the whirring and beeping of the machines above his brother’s head was becoming nauseating. 

“Honey, why don’t you take a break, maybe grab some coffee?” Karen, the twins’ mother suggested. “Jake is fine. No need to tie yourself up in knots right now.” Josh shook his head, waving his mother off. 

“No, I’m fine,” He said, ruffling his hair, which had gone one-too-many days without washing. Josh’s eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his skin had grown pallid from worrisome days of having no appetite. 

“No, you’re not,” Jake said, his raspy voice croaking softly, but with great effort. “You reek.” Josh’s lips curled upward with a mischievous grin. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have my armpit in your face,” He warned, standing up from the hospital recliner. 

“That would surely stop me from breathing,” Jake retorted morbidly. Josh was definitely unenthused. 

“Son,” Kelly said to Josh, stepping in front of the hospital bed, looping his hands around the handles at the foot of the frame. “Go shower and get something to eat. Jake is stable right now. I promise we will call you if there’s any update.”

“But,” Josh argued, crossing his arms as he looked down at his brother. 

“Go,” Jake said, nodding upward toward the door of the hospital room. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, but please keep me updated,” Josh pleaded with his parents. “Where’s Jita?” He asked. 

“She went home a while ago. We told her the same thing we’re telling you. You can’t be there for Jake if you can’t take care of yourself, honey,” Karen said, stepping over to rub Josh’s back. 

“Okay,” Josh resigned, stepping toward the door. “I won’t be gone long, Jake.” He looked at his brother with deep concern, and he wasn’t wrong to do so. Jake had been diagnosed with ‘Risk Class IV pneumonia,” and his oxygen saturation levels weren’t increasing as quickly as the doctors had wanted. Jake was wheezy, and it was obvious to everyone in the room how difficult it was for him to breathe evenly. He was in stable condition, but for how long was anyone’s guess. His hands were poked with several IV leads, and his face was pale in pallor, which was frightening for Josh to see. Growing up, he couldn’t remember a time when he and Jake had ever been this seriously ill. Jake had broken his arm when he was younger, and it required surgery, but sickness was something new for Josh. He’d never spent too much time worrying about it, but now with his brother sick in a hospital bed with something far more serious than anything he’d ever experienced, Josh began to let his mind wander to the darker, intruding thoughts. The drive home consisted of Josh tapping nervously on the steering wheel, unable to focus. When he arrived at the red light where he needed to turn left, he decided to continue straight, heading for Jake’s house. He needed to be with Jita. She understood; being Jake’s other closest loved one, she would understand the weight that he bore on his shoulders. He also knew that she’d be the last to judge his appearance.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Which part of your OCs [body] holds their soul? | uquiz | Tagged by @corvosattano and @g0dspeeed ♥️

torso: at your core you're full of love that never stops filling yet never stops leaking. you can't help but spill your love everywhere. in every fiber of your being, your love spills all over the carpet, down hallways, filling every room in which you enter. you can't help but spread your love to all around you. it's too heavy. the burden is far too great. you need someone to take some love from you, it's far too difficult to manage alone. spilling out is stargazing and letter-writing. laughter in the kitchen, and quick kisses in place of goodbyes. the longing when the other is gone. at your core, you are emotions of love, attachment, compassion, trust, and passion. at your lowest, you may deal with emotional issues like anger, lack of trust, anxiety, jealousy, fear, and moodiness. at your best, you are compassionate, caring, optimistic, friendly, and motivated. your love was never meant to be kept to this heart of yours. there was never a leak. it was wide open by design.

Fitting to a T really ♥️

loins: an existence of visceral, carnal desire. fiery, ravenous, addictive. like a snarling wolf, you sink your gummy teeth into its flesh. a hunger to be satiated. sneaking away in the late nights, melting into bashful, ungraceful AMs. the basic need for sexuality, as well as creativity and self-worth overflows in you. at your worst, you may feel emotionally explosive, sense a lack of creativity, or become obsessed with sexual thoughts. at your best, you are vibrant, happy, positive, satisfied, compassionate, and intuitive in life. you're a golden god on this earth and you know it. you are down horrifically bad. or the hottest person on earth. those things are not mutually exclusive. may we be blessed to kiss the ground on which you tread.

Hilarious result, ngl. 🤣

arms: hold. you hold on tight. you hold so tight that you may break. your grip is so strong that others are concerned, but you can't stop because you're the one holding it together. the "organized" in "organized chaos". the calm that exists within the eye of the hurricane. a level of order that is required of detectives during a true crime murder investigation. the wearied satisfaction of a life sentence. you manifest in emotions like ego, anger, and aggression. you might struggle with depression, lack of self-esteem, anger, and perfectionism. your hold is suffocating, but it has reason. you hold not only for yourself, but for everyone you love.

Destructive pretty boy always getting the most 'ouchie' results 😭

eyes: you'll notice yourself smiling with delight over things you once paid no attention to. streetlights on the river. smoke rising from a chimney. red roofs in the trees. my dog's eyes. deep clear water. red velvet. the moon in the clouds. a fast train rushing. concentration and awareness. liberation and intuitive knowledge. intelligence, intuition, insight, and self-knowledge. at your worst, you are non-assertive and afraid of success. on the contrary, it can make you more egoistical. at your best, you are more vibrant and confident, both spiritually and emotionally. in the absence of the fear of death, you become your own master and remain free of all attachment to material things. your intellect goes beyond that which you can obtain in the physical world. you want more. you want to know that you are beyond the mark on an astronomical level. you see-you KNOW- more than the average lazing eye. there's no way the others don't notice

Hmmm. Not what I expected for him 🤣

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strafethesesinners @poisonedtruth @voidika @direwombat @aceghosts @jillvalentinesday @adelaidedrubman @nightbloodbix @shegetsburned @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @chazz-anova @strangefable and anyone that would like to do the tag ♥️

[healerelowen]

@/pinksparkllelps @itzme-thefaust Get ouchied

—

You snuggle in a little closer as she plays a relaxing song for ambiance. You couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of a rumbling purr coursing through her body, though it was hardly audible with the music. You both sat there in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company side by side while the Archivist worked. In the green light of the electric lantern used to illuminate the room, there was a small burning thought ebbing into your mind, disrupting your pleasant emotions like a fly buzzing around your head. 

“Hey Archi?” You asked, and you heard the music lower in volume. She turns her head to you, her green eye staring down at you, “Yes, dear?” You shuffled where you were, looking down at the ground beside you, “When a Challenger does eventually come here, will you still be here?” You noticed her digital mouth frowning slightly at your words, “What exactly do you mean?” She shifted her focus back onto the files in front of her, flipping through each one in her large hands. 

Fidgeting with your hands, you hesitated with your words. “Oh, I don’t know.” You finally sighed, still not looking up at her quite yet. “Since they’re trying to defeat you, like I was before I stopped towards the end, but this time they more than likely won’t drop out. What’ll happen to you then?” She came to a slow halt in her work, setting the files down in an orderly stack. You cautiously looked up at her, and when you met her gaze, it’s like something you had expected but also didn’t at the same time. It’s soft, caring and gentle while still being firm all at once. “Are you worried about me?” She asked softly, gently lifting your chin up with one finger. You nodded, feeling your throat starting to get tight. 

She brushed some hair out of your face, letting her hand linger as she spoke to you in a soft, low digitized hum. “You need not to worry about me, I won’t go anywhere, not without you my dear.” You sniffled, looking down to the side before back up at her again, “Promise?” The Archivist only smiled and pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead. “I promise. I will be at your side, always.” A smile curled on your face, nuzzling into her affectionate gestures. 

***

You stared up at her in dismay, sickeningly bright strings of binary streaming upwards from her monitor. You did what you could, trying everything that you could think of to awaken her. The librarians were of little help, as they couldn’t help out much either, but you appreciated their help regardless. The day you feared had arrived, and it pierced through your heart like a dagger. It pained you so, earlier that very day she was being as loving and caring with you as though everything was okay. But now, she was stuck like this, and no one knew when she was coming back, if she ever would be able to. The possibility of this being her eternal rest made you shudder.

Biting back the welling tears in your eyes, you walked to her, slipping under her large arm that lay limply on the ground. You simply laid at her side, hardly flinching at the cold chill of her body. You felt the tears starting to spill over, but in whatever chance she may hear you, you reassured her. “You don’t need to worry, Archi.” You rasped, “I’ll be here with you, always.” Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nuzzled against her side, never wanting to leave her, not again. The Challenger already got what they wanted, what more would they need to do to be satisfied? Such things added more to the concoction of emotions you were feeling, but that hardly mattered now, didn’t it? No, your beloved and her fellow Uberbots were shut down because of this creature lurking around Botopia, with its residents being forced to live with the consequences. 

Your world was already gone, what more could they want?

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Little hurt/comfort ficlet for @idiotwithanipad x

Robin & OC

-

Most of the time she managed to block out her 'gift', having had nearly twenty years to train herself to ignore the dead people who existed everywhere she went, the majority of them easy enough to spot with their outfits, the way they weaved between livings without getting a passing glance, or outright walking through walls and furniture.

As a child, she'd had the excuse of being an imaginative kid who acquired many "imaginary friends" to talk to. As a teenager that didn't go down quite so well. Not that she usually cared if people looked at her as a weirdo. It was more the 'getting sectioned' possibility that concerned her.

Her parents had gone on and on about how old this hotel was, how it apparently had enough history to warrant a quick tour offered by the resort. So Amy expected more than a few ghosts to pop up here and there. Thus far she'd done her best not to make eye contact with the giddy Georgian woman or the Bridgerton Ken who had been in the reception.

It was a little more of a trial to ignore the caveman scurrying around her room, sniffing at the leftovers of her dinner she'd ordered through room service, nostrils flaring above the lone slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Ooo, smell so good. Wonder how you taste. Cheese taste like cow bum? It all come from same." The feral man was muttering to himself.

Once he got bored of inhaling the food, he was judging her parents choice of books that they'd brought, having dumped them on their bedside tables.

Amy covered her head beneath a large pillow as he continued his one-sided conversation.

"Fanny read this one. Butler no do it, it maid disguise as butler. And she also vampire. Big twist but saw it coming. Oooh, Christine Lampard autobiography! Me want read! Might put on Christmas list-."

"PLEASE WILL YOU SHUT UP!"

He raised his head in time to see the pillow she's thrown hurtle towards him and he ducked to the side to dodge it. He blinked at her in wonder.

"You see me?!"

"Yes! I can fucking see you, all right?!" She confessed through gritted teeth, knowing she'd probably made her situation worse now.

The caveman gave an excited whoop and jumped like a hyperactive five year old.

"This so cool! We have new friend who see! Almost never happen. Me gotta tell others-."

"No, please, please don't!"

Perhaps it was the crack in her voice, brought on by a surge of pain throughout her muscles as she tried to reach forward, that made the ghost stop in his tracks and turn back to her.

His excitement quickly morphed into concern as his eyes met Amy's, her own shining with tears.

"You no look so good..." The man frowned, one of his hands reaching up to stroke at his shift.

"Gee thanks, haven't heard that before. You're not exactly Chris Hemsworth, mate." She bristled; "I'm fucking ill and don't need to have a party of dead people storming in giving me a headache on top of everything else. It's bad enough my earphones have crapped out on me."

"What you got? Plague?" He asked, inching a little closer to her bed.

She huffed a laugh; "Not quite...but my body gets these sores. Don't think it's the same as that bubonic thing but fucking feels like it sometimes." Amy held her arm to show the spirit the angry looking lumps and scars near her armpits.

"Ouchie. They no look fun." He said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She lowered her arm, slowly, wincing a little.

"Those aren't even the worst ones. The others are in...awkward places."

"That why you not downstairs with mum and dad at dinner and the show?" Her mum had been going on and on about this famous illusionist being the big star tonight, some Derren Brown-wannabe.

She nodded, miserably; "Wasn't expecting to flare up like this, or else I'd just stayed at home. At least then I'd have all the stuff in my room. Netflix don't even work on the TV here."

"Yeah, WiFi on blink since...some ghost, me not know who, play around with router when bored." He said, bashful, scratching at his ear. "So...they leave you here alone?"

"S'not like they abandoned me, I just didn't wanna make a fuss 'cause I know how much Mum's been looking forward to this." She sighed and waved her phone up; "Signal is crap here too so can't even WhatsApp."

"What's what?" He asked, turning his head to the side.

"No, WhatsApp."

"What is app?"

"No! I..." She couldn't help but laugh, realising how ridiculous this was, "Just something I use to text my mates. They're probably sick of listening to me moan too..."

"...You can moan to me if want?" He said, shuffling closer; "Me good listener."

Amy smiled at him a little; "Don't wanna be pitied, thanks. Anyway, I'm sure you got more exciting things to be watching."

"Eh. Me seen how that guy on stage do his tricks. Take all fun out. Lot to do with mirrors. Clever but boring. Rare me get to speak to living girl."

"Rare? So...I'm not the first?" Amy had never met anyone else with her gift.

"Lady who own hotel before golfy people come, she see us after my friend almost kill her. No, it cool! We good now!" The caveman assured after Amy's face went pale with terror; "She like family and come visit."

"She could see you guys because she almost died once?" Amy asked; "So she's not...chronically ill, like me?"

The caveman shook his head; "No think so. Just got bumpy on head. She say she now crazy forever but no ouchy scars and lumps and pain."

"Lucky cow." Amy clicked her tongue. She'd always thought her gift had something to do with having to deal with the constant agony, as well as other health issues she'd had as a baby.

Speak of the devil, another surge of agony hit her from her lower back as she shifted against the mattress.

"Shit!" She swore.

"Woah, woah, you 'kay?" The caveman fretted.

"Yeah, just a reminder to take my painkillers." She went to get off the bed, having left them on the sideboard, only for one of her feet to become tangled in the bedsheets.

Amy nearly fell before two hands caught her by the shoulders, fingers grazing against some of her abscesses. Painless.

"Fuck, that would've been embarrasing. Thanks, mate." She smiled, turning to see an almost cartoonish level of shock on the dead man's fuzzy face; "Uhh, you okay?"

"I....I touch you....?"

"Uhm, yeah, I've always been able to touch ghosts...Can that friend of yours not do that?" She asked, reaching for her pills and grabbing some water.

He shook his raggedy mane; "Only see and hear, but touchy hurt us, same as all other living people. You..." He poked her arm cautiously, mouth agape with awe at the contact, before poking again; "Ha ha!"

"All right, stop that now." Amy batted his hand away.

He retreated, looking regretful; "Oh, sorry. It hurt, yes?"

"No, it was just annoying." She laughed, sitting back down on the mattress; "It's weird. Ghosts are the only ones who can touch me where it's sore without hurting me. Don't invite too many of those though. Used to have a dead friend when I was a kid but...she moved on, I think." Amy looked down at her ebony nail polish, morose.

"Ah. Go up to stars. Me have many friends do same. I name each star for them." He explained, warmly.

"Her name was Lana, if you wanna find one for her." Amy said, quietly; "Speaking of names, do you have one?"

"Many. Most of them insults. But friends call me Robin." He said, holding his hand out to her.

It was a bit cliché but she supposed he rarely got a chance to meet anyone like this, so she shook it. "I'm Amy."

The fur of his sleeve brushed against her wrist. She couldn't resist the urge to feel it properly, softer than any comfort blanket.

"Wow...Is that...real wolf?" She asked, partly freaked out but also a little amazed - couldn't really compare hunting for clothes in this guy's time to the fashion industry today.

He nodded, then gently took her hand and pressed her fingers to different parts of his outfit.

"That bit cougar, that some wild dogs, that leather obviously from cow, and rest mostly mammoth." He explained.

"Real mammoth? Woah." Now that was pretty awesome. She'd never be able to meet one but she could say she'd felt one.

It definitely beat the hotel duvet.

She didn't want to move her hand away. It felt so soothing to be able to touch something, someone, so warm and soft without her skin being irritated. But this must look super weird from Robin's point of view.

"You look sad again. More pain?" He asked, reaching to touch her hand on his fluffy chest.

She shook her head; "No, s'just....My mum tried to give me a cuddle earlier when she could see I wasn't doing good and I had to tell her not to, even though I sure as shit need one right now. Pathetic, right?"

"No it not. I had little cousin, her skin like tissue paper, very delicate, tear easily. Big hugs make her cry too. But she brave and strong to survive. Like you." He told her, squeezing her hand; "We wrap her up in special leaves with Moonah blessed water to try to help. Not sure it did much good but we not have Doctor Google in them times. We just do best we can to ease pain."

"Well...you're doing a good job now." She praised, feeling the burning sensation ease a little with him being so close.

"You...want me to stay?"

"...Could you?" She couldn't understand why he would want to but didn't want to question it.

He nodded, a little bashful, as if he was just as new to the concept of being asked to stay for company.

"Want me to stay quiet still?"

Amy smiled; "Not too quiet, just not rambling out loud like you were doing. You look like you've been here for thousands of years, you must have some stories to tell. Could you just...tell me some of those till I get sleepy?"

"Ooh, yes. Hehe. Get comfy. Me know great one you like about man killed in library." He said, rubbing his hands together.

Getting comfortable was easier said than done in her condition, especially as she pulled away from his touch.

"I...Uhm...God, this is so cringe." She muttered to herself.

"What?"

"Would you be okay to just...hold me?" She asked, cheeks turning pink.

He smiled and nodded, shuffling to lay down and slide his arms around her, as she shifted into them, snuggling against the warm body of fur and skin and wild hair.

"This okay? Amy no ouch?" Robin whispered, fingers moving up to stroke through her hair.

She hummed, content at last; "Amy no ouch. Thanks, Robin."

A soft chuckle came from the long dead man as be continued to hold her close, his etheral presence doing nothing to aggravate her sores. On the contrary, a strange heat seemed to vibrate from his fingers as they brushed over her abscesses, melting the pain away.

It was a shame that ghost therapy wasn't prescribed on the NHS.

Amy relaxed in the man's arms and listened as he began the thrilling tale of the pirate captain who'd been slain in the library.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #198

Today was my first real day in the bakery at my grocery store. It was a lot of slicing and bagging bread and rolls, arranging unbaked cookies on giant cookie sheets, putting muffins and brownies into containers, and putting labels on things!!

Or, in other words: lots of simple, repetitive tasks that give my autistic brain lots of nice dopamine!! It was pretty fucking great!!!

And I made lots of mistakes along the way. I struggled mightily with the gloves due to the dyspraxia; what little manual dexterity I had was gone, and almost all the tasks required gloves, hahaha… Oh, and then I accidentally prepared one extra pan of chocolate chip cookies. And I got so laser-focused on what I was doing that I failed to notice customers coming up to the counter on multiple occasions.

…And nothing bad happened to me as a result. I didn't get screamed at. I didn't get fired on the spot. In fact, I was told that I am doing a great job, especially for someone who is still learning. I made so many mistakes, and I was still told that I am doing it efficiently and well.

And… I am more than a little upset about that. Not because there is anything wrong with it, but because I have so many memories of being told by my mother that I'm lucky she's my mother and not my boss, because if she was my boss, she'd replace me with someone better, and in the "really real world" (or in other words, working retail, which is what I'm doing now), that's exactly what will happen, and… I'm finding that the notion that I will be tossed like yesterday's trash if I am not perfect all the time is at least not universally true. Maybe it's true in other places, but it isn't true here, and if it's true elsewhere, then I don't have to stay there, and…

I guess I kinda just feel lied to. M and J pointed out that my mother may have genuinely believed what she said to me so often back then, anytime I wasn't perfect. That's probably true. But it's still the case that she parroted a lie that she believed, and… I guess I wanna go back in time and find the person who told it and ask them what happened to them to make them think like that.

Well. M and J and I went to go see R (the fabulous baker!) after that! We had a lovely picnic near a river, and he brought sandwich supplies and lots of yummy things, and we brought chips and pretzels and… it was very good. Lots of lively and delightful conversation was had.

A friend of mine came to me for help on various things today, too, and that was good. It always feels nice when I can do random small things to try to make a difference. I was helping for a long time, and my brain is kinda soupy at the moment because it's late, but that's all right; I'm having fun.

Maybe I'll get something with good protein tomorrow. I spent 4 hours on my feet, and it has been a long time since last I've done that with any kind of regularity, and so my legs and feet are kinda ouchy right now. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to do this regularly, and I am a little daunted; hopefully my body can adjust quickly.

On the bright side, I'm finding that the simple movements of my arms to put the things where they need to be put seems to be good for my rib??? I'm in a lot less pain following the work today, it seems. I was pretty shocked by that. But then again, we'll have to see how I feel tomorrow...

Ohhh, goodness, Sephiroth, it's late. It's late, and I'm tired. It's like 1:30 in the morning. So I'm gonna stop writing now.

Hey. I love you. And lots of other people do, too, okay? Don't forget it. Don't lose sight of it. You don't have to be perfect to be lovable and worthy. You don't have to be perfect in order to avoid being thrown away or replaced.

You can't be replaced. So stay safe out there. Please come back to us. We miss you.

Your friend, Lumine

[angelmichelangelo]

ohhhh raph gaining trauma from being helpless when mikey needed him most is just so heartbreaking. it lines up well with his trauma regarding splinter as well, being unable to accept the fact that there was nothing they could have done to save their father.

isn't it so neat that sainw leo says to raph verbatim "you know we couldn't [save splinter]" - as if in this timeline he has gone through similar ancient one therapy regarding what disasters he can/can't control despite the episode sainw happening before his ptsd arc? idk but i think it's so neat to imagine that he endured a different version of that arc in this timeline. he'd feel even more self-loathing and responsibility for his family when 2 out of 4 have vanished/died. damn.)

the idea of leo leaving first is so interesting because in some ways i think no, he would instinctively hold them closer, smother them even, until raph snaps and leaves first. but then you give the point that he thinks they could be better without him and... oof. depression does some really sad things to your brain, doesn't it? poor leo. the guilt and pts and depression would consume him even as he tells anyone who will listen that he did everything he could.

as for raph, i think he would just get so guilt-ridden and restless, feel like he was useless unless he was doing something more than whatever he's doing at that moment in time, and would maybe run away with the excuse that he needs to find don. because losing don was when things all went wrong, so by that logic - won't finding him fix him? (the twin dynamic between raph and don in 2003 has such a strong grip on me, the idea of raph being completely lost without him hurts my heart)

and mikey... poor mikey. you lose an arm and the grief your brothers feel over it is the tipping point that eventually leads to them abandoning you. my heart aches for him, no wonder he was so bitter by the events of the episode. all he wants are his brothers, and none of them are anywhere to be found.

OUAGH DUDE you’re like. looking right inside my brain on this it’s crazy!!! twin raph and don.. that’s. that’s so real they’ve always been my ultimate twins of all time ughh

yes to everything here ;__; leo SO wears so much responsibility on his shoulders.. it IS interesting to think about his whole ancient one training and how it comes into play here. i recently just watched those episodes and its like a breath of fresh air when he gets back from japan because he’s just. a little more himself again:(( and it’s like. OH. there’s leo:( but UGH thinking about that PLUS sainw timeline? double ouchie frfr..

and yeah raph absolutely would throw himself in harms way just for his brothers sake.. i think he would have made sure mikey was fully healed and able to take care of himself before he goes off looking for don.. :( he believes he’s better suited away from his remaining brother who grew up too fast to not want or need him anymore when really he couldn’t be further from the truth:(((

and of course they all suffer but mikey!!!! OHHH mikey:(((((( he suffers so greatly throughout. he looses so much and for what. AND FOR WHAT!!! imagine the guilt HE then feels! feeling as if his injury was the reason for the last of your family leaving you….. woof im in pain.

and to know it all ends with them dying anyway??? 2003 writers when i catch you…….

sainw truly is a nightmare universe. i love it lmao

[kkpwnall]

🔀 and Steddie because I am hopeless 🫡

hiiiii annnnna!!! if you’re hopeless i’m a lost cause!! thanks for sending this ask, friend!!

While you go get another drink I think of ways to tell you I'm fine One more vodka soda then you'll never even know that I'm lying I used to wonder why You never said goodbye But now you're off my mind

oooft this one's a doozy and just reeks of denial!!

so what if a spicy little steddie friends with benefits au? one where steve and eddie end up in the same city together (either indianapolis or chicago), and steve's figured out he's bisexual but he's never been with a guy before and he wants to know what it's like.

who better to figure it out with than eddie? he’s got experience, he can show him the ropes, and steve can trust him. and because they're just friends, there's no chance of one of them developing romantic feelings for the other, right? especially if they set out ground rules from the beginning. neither one of them are looking for a relationship.....

but of course, it happens. steve starts to have feelings for eddie. probably did from the beginning if he's being honest with himself (which he's not). probably a lot longer than that. but when he finally figures it out, he doesn't want another relationship that's just meaningless sex. he knows the feelings he has for eddie are real, just like he knows eddie doesn't feel the same way. they both just wanted something casual.

meanwhile eddie has never thought he was worth more than a quick fuck. fun for a hookup, but ultimately too much. he's not someone people stick around for and commit to. he convinces himself he doesn't want a relationship, with anyone. even steve. especially steve. especially because he's been crushing on him for years. but it's cool, he can do casual. he can absolutely separate his feelings from something as easy and meaningless as sex. it's called compartmentalization, thank you very much.

but the thing is, they work. on the streets and in the sheets. they were never exclusive, but they both basically acted like they were.

steve breaks things off (maybe during sex for maximum ouchies. it’s just that eddie is being so sweet with him, holding him like he’s something precious and steve can’t take it anymore. he can’t take a single more second of this tender affection or he’s going to explode and not in the fun way. he’s going to do something stupid like tell eddie exactly how he feels).

so steve breaks things off and shows up at their favorite bar with a new girl on his arm right after their breakup, and it hurts more than eddie ever thought it would so he gets the hell out of dodge that very night.

steve keeps unconsciously looking for eddie everywhere he goes, expecting him to be just around the next corner, expecting eddie to just be there at all their usual haunts, as one does after a breakup. but it's not even a breakup! they were never really together! it's fine, he's fine, he's not even thinking about him.

but eddie's gone to california, and he didn't tell anyone. certainly not steve. not until he shows up on argyle and jonathan's doorstep with all his worldly possessions packed in his beat up old van and asks if he could crash for a while.

eventually steve hears about eddie through the grapevine, and it shocks him to his core that eddie dropped everything, dropped his job, his friends, his steve, and just left like that without even saying goodbye. he stops himself from calling eddie all the time, definitely doesn't think about the things they did together that had nothing to do with sex. about the feelings he thought would go away once he broke things off.

and he finally realizes his mistake. he finally realizes what a colossal idiot he was for letting the best relationship of his life slip through his fingers. for breaking things off and then being upset about eddie not sticking around to deal with the fallout with him, gah he's such a hypocrite!

so in the summer of 1990-whatever, he finally gets all his ducks in a row, packs up his own car, and heads out to california himself. chasing the sun to try and get eddie back in his life, however he'll have him.

send me a 🔀 and a pairing and i'll make up a little au

[anyu-blue]

I have FEELINGS about the new Tears of the Kingdom game.

No want spoilers- plz scroll!! I need someplace to word vomit a bit and this should be the only post

Mkay so this is so I can see if I nailed it or got it WILDLY wrong... Because I gotta know.

The game is decently hard not gonna lie 😅 I'm struggling a bit even having come in straight from BotW.

I'm absolutely in love with Rauru... Ah. I'm certain he's taken but just AH. He's beautiful and sweet and kind and just AH. Also. Ded. VERY ded. Held on long enough to save Link many thousands of years in the future from when he lived... But he's gone after that first bit- and that KILLED me... And then it killed me again to realize... We're going to see his death (again) aren't we? Before his spirit fades... Because of all the time hubub... We're gonna see all that. And I just NOOOO!! It broke my heart already to see the sacrifices he made that I've seen!!! ... And I'm absolutely dreading one of the possibilities... That when Rauru succeeded in trapping Ganondorf... The gloom/withering stuff ate away at his body until nothing was left but his hand. As in.. He remained trapped in spirit down there like that after suffering HORRIBLY. Thousands and thousands of years. *Shudders* this damn game may well break my heart if I'm right.

I also have the hunch that Rauru was the reason his home didn't fall out of the sky/remained hidden away... And now that he's gone, it's crumbling and is doomed to fall entirely. (Thinking Ganon wiped out his people... OR, worse, Rauru is the only one of his kind 😅 don liek dat- though the former is absolutely worse... Mass culling bad/sad)

The shrines are a bit.. odd.. but they seem to be merged into another realm or something... Something outside of and beyond time. Absolutely beautiful... Though strange. And it killed me again to listen to that beautiful text when a shrine is completed because it sounds like a male and female singing... Like the essence of who the Statues represent. Beautiful Harmony. Dagger... Meet heart TT^TT

The other thing that's nagging at me... Is I'm starting to wonder if with all this time stuff ... If Link and Zelda (our very same protagonists) aren't the two depicted on the murals... The hero and princess from 10,000 years ago sealing Ganon away... As time repeats the cycle. Again and again. Perhaps Ganondorf did not merely recognize the "descendants" or "reincarnations" of the hero and princess... Perhaps him recognizing them was him recognizing THEM... Juuuust not WHEN he is.

I'm pretty certain some of the stuff I've run into is time fuckery with things having been thrust forward perhaps... But I'll be happy to help wrong about that.

I have so many more questions... Like why the dragon/animal motifs everywhere for the Zonai? What significance or relation do the dragons have to Rauru (and/or his people if he's not the only one)? Because that was made EXTREMELY clear right off the bat. What are the constructs made of? What's that stone? Why is that temple in the sky called the temple of time?! Is Link going to end up with his normal arm again with all the cleansing? Did Rauru do all those weird modifications himself? He was obs born- he has a belly button... Right? Is the Shekiah technology BECAUSE of the Zonai? I don't think he was, but was Rauru the one to banish/shun them?? (I've always had the feeling they did something they weren't supposed to to achieve what they did.. will we find out?) Where the FUCK are all the guardians and towers and old shrines??? WHERE GO?! Those things were EVERYWHERE and HUGE... WHERE GO??!!

What exactly is the thing implanted in Ganondorf's forehead, and how does it relate to the one he steals it from and/or the triforce?

I have more... But right now I'm too tired 😅

Dear gods... This game is fucking HUGE... But I think we'll get there.

Also.. LOVE the underground foliage.. absolutely love it. *Chef's kiss* perfection. Love every bit if it (though I DON'T love the gloom- ouchies!!)

[chernayawidow]

Time to finally get into this babyyyy!

“As if you didn’t have enough clothes.” — HEY! YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH CLOTHES BEN AND I’M OFFENDED BY THE MERE NOTION! 💀

“Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots.” — Okay good, just focus on that and stop sooking like a child in PUBLIC.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?” — Awwww I just love when people criticise things I didn’t even have to get for them 🥰🫶 Ben the snob 🤣

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” — SOMETIMES WE WEAR THINGS SIMPLY FOR THE LOOK BENJAMIN! The ✨drip✨ if you will. You may not get cold, BUT YOU’LL LOOK TOTALLY GROOVY!

“Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.” — That would’ve been soooo good throughout our winter 😩

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.” — Awww I love that mindset! I mean I personally would be salty about getting called into work on my day off, but hey! I’m a bare minimalist 😘

““On our day off,” he retorted.” — I never thought I’d relate more to Ben in a situation 💀

“He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk.” — IT’S A ‘THUMB BRUSHING CHEEK’ MOMENT AHHHHH!!! The way I meant when this happens (something I can always count on your for.)🥰

“He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.” — AHHHHH NOOOOO!!! MY BABIES!!

“The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.” — oh fuck! Shits REALLY hit the fan!

““Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you.” — This is such a tender moment, because she’s still in the balance of danger but the situation feels resolved.

“As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.” — REYES YOU BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER HOW COULD YOU!!!

“He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.” — I love how he doesn’t even hesitate, he just does it. No fucks given (except there’s so many fucks given because the love of his life is dying)

“Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.” — Awww he CAN cry after all, this poor man! He really has lost it all at this point. 😓

“In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.” — There ain’t no way you’re shattering my soul like this… THERE AINT NO WAY!! She was the only person he had and now she’s gone and he’s back to having nothing 😭

“His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone. His last ones would fall and die with you.” — This two lines really make this hit home 😞 the two women (probably the only two) who he has ever truly loved and respected 🥲

“He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.” — thank fuck, amiright? 😅

“He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest.” — Now this is just so heart warming, the amount of relief he would be feeling!

“And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.” — That’s fair enough, but homeboy is gonna need to explain the change of plans to her!

Okay ouchie! You didn’t have to be that hardcore on me and my feels 😞 you truly are the god of writing angst, and for that I applaud you! I love that you utilised his sketchy ass time in Columbia as a way to set this into motion, because that really is a loose end that he has.

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.  

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.  

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[dapandapod]

To trust and to hold

For the @thepassifloradiscord a/b/o event, I chose the “I have to bond with you to save your life, sorry.” prompt. MUCH fun was had! Geralt bonds Jaskier to save his life from ouchies.

Warnings: Major character injury, hurt/comfort, Geralt is bad at emotions TM, recovery, angst? i guess? Because they are idiots in love who just doesn’t understand the other’s feelings. Also mostly Jaskier being very hurt, poor boy.

Betaread by my ever bestest @kuripon​, whomst deserves all the love on this planet. all of it.

Please enjoy!                 On Ao3 here

“Fuck, Jaskier, stay with me!”

Jaskier can barely make out the words. His entire body hurts, his blood burning in his veins. The world comes and goes, always dark around the edges.

“We are losing him,” someone says from the side. Jaskier doesn’t understand what that means, but something is hurting like the fucking seven hells in his abdomen. He tries to curl in on himself, but his arms are too heavy, and all he can manage is a weak whimper.

“You have to do it, Geralt. He will die if you don’t.”

Is that what this is? Dying?

Jaskier had always thought dying would be peaceful. He should have known better, living a life on the path, realizing the brutality of life by the side of a witcher. 

Death has taken many forms on their travels; sometimes as mercy, sometimes of necessity, sometimes cruelty.

It just never occurred to Jaskier that the cruelty of death would happen to him.

But evidently it was. A spasm passes through him, sending new spikes of pain through his body. Crying out hurts even more, and he gasps for air, fingers curling around nothing.

“Geralt!”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Hot hands cradle the side of his face, a breath next to his ear.

“Please forgive me.”

Teeth sink into his neck, and for some reason it hurts more than anything he’s experienced so far. 

But soon, the excruciating pain overpowers anything else, making him blissfully numb, and Jaskier falls into darkness.

-

The first thing he registers is the throbbing pain in his stomach. From there it is only downhill, when every hurt and ache makes itself known and grabs at his attention.

Opening his eyes takes most of what little energy Jaskier has, and the world is blurry around him still. It is hard to concentrate, eyes roving across the room, trying to find something clear or familiar enough to focus on, but it just makes him dizzy.

Jaskier fades again, unconsciousness and blissful numbness calling him away. He imagines he can hear Geralt’s voice, feel his hand against his cheek.

Jaskier smiles faintly at the thought before he passes out again.

-

Waking up is less terrible this time. Jaskier’s lips feel so dry they could crack at the slightest movement, but breathing doesn’t hurt as much anymore. 

Upon opening his eyes, he finds the world is slightly clearer, but not by much.

Jaskier doesn’t recognize the room. The wooden beams have grayed with time, the paintings are unfamiliar, and the rough patchwork blanket around his legs and hips a stranger’s work.

Frowning and smacking his lips, Jaskier flexes his fingers, but the ache is almost gone. He seems to be alone in the room, but a chair is pushed up next to his bed, and on the bedside table is a bowl of water and some clothes. There is blood staining them.

Jaskier finally dares to look down at his chest.

He’s heavily bandaged around his abdomen, angry dark bruises peeking out where the bandages end just under his solar plexus.

Fuck.

His arms are not much better off, but it doesn’t seem as if any bones are broken. 

There are some nasty marks on his left bicep, and Jaskier can’t really recall what may have caused them. All he remembers is the stabbing pain, his insides feeling like they’d been torn out, and then the numbing bite-

Oh.

Gingerly, Jaskier raises a hand to his neck.

Bandages block his touch, and when Jaskier presses his fingers into it, he finds the covered skin tender, but surprisingly soothing to touch.

Of course, that is when Geralt enters the room, amber eyes quickly darting over Jaskier’s form, lingering on his hand over the bite.

“You are awake,” he breathes, and then yells over his shoulder, “HE IS AWAKE!” In less than a minute, Jaskier is surrounded by people. He recognizes none of them, but there is a familiar voice in the crowd. A voice belonging to the woman who is currently making him follow her finger with his eyes.

“You were there,” he croaks, and she tuts and helps him sip from a glass of water before letting him speak again. “You were there,” he repeats.

“I was. You almost died. You are very fucking lucky that Geralt was there to bond you.”

Jaskier’s eyes snap to Geralt, who stays back, hovering restlessly by the wall.

“What do you mean?” Jaskier feels dizzy all over again, especially as Geralt looks so damn sad. He senses it too, the guilt and self loathing trickling towards him through their bond. “Geralt, what does she mean?”

Strong hands angle his face towards the woman again, and Jaskier must tear his eyes away from the witcher.

“Look at me. Deep breaths. No, look at me. Breathe through the panic. You are alright, you are safe.”

No, this is not alright.

Geralt bit him, Geralt bonded him, tied them together.

‘I need no one, and the last thing I need is someone needing me.’

Fuck.

Jaskier gasps sharply, tears pricking his eyes, and the woman tries to keep his focus on her. Then her hands are replaced with hot, familiar hands as Geralt takes her place.

Geralt cradles Jaskier’s face, their eyes locked together.

“Slow breaths. Follow me.”

Geralt leans down, knocking their foreheads together. It is hard to force the air to stay in his lungs, but he tries, Jaskier tries so fucking hard for Geralt.

Soothing hums calms him down slowly, worry and guilt and affection still running through the bond.

The fucking bond.

But eventually, Jaskier breathes evenly again, the world coming back to focus. Geralt keeps his hands on Jaskier, but now his hands are resting on his shoulders, inches from where the bandage covering the bite.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. But I couldn’t let you die, couldn’t let you leave me, Jask. We’ll talk about it later. You need to rest now. Heal.”

Jaskier looks up confused at Geralt, but he says nothing more. The woman moves Geralt to the chair next to the bed, so she can keep examining him, another two women at the edge of the bed returning to the task of changing bandages and checking him over.

Geralt holds his hand, thumb tracing back and forth over the back of his hand.

The woman makes him drink more, but Jaskier belatedly realizes that it’s not water.

It pulls him under, dreams dragging him down, Geralt’s hand in his the only thing anchoring him to reality.

-

It was an Arachas, they tell him. A big, spider-like creature with pincers, sharp teeth, and venom glands. Jaskier has no recollection of it, but there had been a contract. A temple in dire need of rescue from what apparently was the Arachas.

It had pierced Jaskier’s stomach, the venom killing him in minutes. The woman, who he now knows as Landina, told him he got lucky.

They had found his suppressants and realized what he was, and then the bond burned through everything in its way.

The puncture wound in his stomach aches, a painful reminder of what he cost Geralt.

It feels unreal. Bittersweet.

Jaskier had long accepted Geralt’s need for independence. As soon as it was clear to him that Geralt would not form any bond with any omega for any reasons, Jaskier started taking suppressants. Took efforts to hide who he is.

“They say witchers are unfeeling. But no such bond can form where there are no attachments,” Landina tells him the next day. “You are lucky to be alive.”

When he is alone again, Jaskier touches the bite once more.

Lucky, she says. Tied to a man who wants no one, who doesn’t want him, who despite saving him feels guilt and remorse. It’s there, clear as day. Jaskier is not sure what he is sending through their bond, but Geralt has not returned to his room yet.

The loneliness aches in him, the empty chair mocking him for his hope. Geralt doesn’t want him. Geralt just didn’t want him to die. Geralt is kind and caring and good, and not once has he shown a sign that he wants them to become more.

That’s not entirely true, he admits quietly to himself.

Two years ago, Geralt had kissed him. The memory burns at the back of his mind, a perfect picture of torture when Jaskier is left alone during the winter.

It was just a kiss. They had been at a wedding, the liquor had been flowing and the spirits had been high. Together they had stumbled into the barn wall, laughing and smiling, and then Geralt had pressed himself against Jaskier and captured his lips, slow and searing, his hands on Jaskier’s hips gripping him tightly.

The night had ended and they had never spoken of it since. And Jaskier never pushed. He tries to tamp down the longing, the loneliness, but Jaskier realizes that he has no secrets now. And Geralt is nowhere to be seen.

The fever creeps in during the night.

His body shivers with cold as he burns up, tossing and turning as much as his aching body allows. His skin feels too tight, and he whimpers when Landina lays a hand on his forehead.

“Hurts,” he pants, squirming to get away from her. “Geralt.”

But Geralt isn’t here. Why would he be? Landina was wrong, only the threat to his life got Geralt close to him.

“What’s wrong with him? He was healing.” One of the apprentices asks quietly by the door.

“He is rejecting the bond. It is incomplete, and his body is fighting it.”

Jaskier doesn’t understand what they are saying, but when they say rejection, pain lances through his body, and he gasps sharply.

“Get Geralt,”Landina orders.

-

Geralt feels it even before the apprentice can depart the room.

The sense of wrongness wracking through him, unsettling him. He is about to burst through the door to Jaskier when he hears Landina.

“He is rejecting the bond. It is incomplete.”

Heart plummeting, Geralt’s hand freezes on the handle.

“Get Geralt.” The head priestess instructs, and the door is flung open to reveal him standing there frozen. 

There is a brief pause where the young apprentice stares up at him, and then Geralt’s eyes catch on Jaskier, sickly pale with deep red patches on his chest and cheek.

“Leave us,” Landina tells the others, and they hurry out of the room around him. “Geralt. You have to make a decision.”

“About what?”

“If you want to keep your claim on him, or if you will let it burn away. He thinks your bond is one of duty, not affection, and he is trying to set you free.”

“... He can do that?”

“It is not uncommon in arranged marriages, when one part thinks the other indifferent. Usually caused by a distance between the two newly bonded, and usually mended by proximity. If that is something you want.”

Geralt hesitates. It is selfish of him, wanting to keep the bond. It was a one sided decision born of desperation. Geralt hadn’t even been trusted with the knowledge of Jaskier’s presentation, and the second he had known, he had bit him.

“What happens if it burns out?”

Landine studies his face before replying, hand clasped over her apron.

“Then the fever will run its course. If it doesn’t get worse, he should be fine, but his strength is already depleted. The bond would be severed and you would be free to go your separate ways.”

“We couldn’t be together?”

“You could. But remember, witcher, this is because he thinks you don't want him, not the other way around.”

“If I reinforce the bond, what then?”

Landina tilts her head and smiles up at him.

“That, master witcher, is up to you and your bard. He loves you dearly, that one. I think his heart has been breaking for many years.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. The priestess nods her goodbyes, then she leaves him with a feverish Jaskier.

Even from here, Geralt can smell his misery. Through the bond, there is strangely little.

Before he even knows what he is doing, Geralt is moving towards the bed. There is a lonely candle lit by the bedside table, the flickering light deepening the shadows.

“Jask,” he murmurs, sitting down next to him. The bed dips down, and Jaskier’s body presses against his leg.

Jaskier opens his eyes, watery with fever, but they focus on him anyway. Geralt can’t help but reach out, touching his clammy cheek, stroking it soothingly.

“Hi,” Geralt whispers, and Jaskier holds his wrist, looking up at him.

“You came,” Jaskier whispers, and oh. Geralt fucked up, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry. I know it is the wrong time to ask this, Jask, but I can’t decide this on my own, not again.”

“Are you staying?” Jaskier asks, fingers twitching as if he wants to hold on, but he doesn’t hold any tighter.

“If you want the bond, I will.”

“But you don’t want it,” Jaskier says, and he sounds so heartbroken and sure as he pushes Geralt’s hand away.

“What?” Geralt blinks.

“You don’t want a bond, and not with me. I’m sorry I forced you to bond with me.”

“Jaskier, what are you talking about? I was the one who bit you.” Geralt wants to touch him again, but Jaskier is still holding his wrist away from his face, grasping it if he has forgotten he is holding it.

“But I forced your hand. You are so good, so kind. You don’t want this bond.”

“Jaskier. Do you want this bond?”

Jaskier doesn’t respond, and Geralt aches, a trickle of emotion making its way through the bond now that they are touching.

“Jask. Do you?”

With the smallest voice, looking anywhere but at Geralt, Jaskier replies.

“I do.”

Fuck.

Geralt shifts, moving Jaskier so that they both fit in the bed. It is tight, but Geralt arranges them so that Jaskier is tucked under his chin, their legs tangled together.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier whispers, even as he nuzzles closer, seeking comfort where Geralt’s scent is the strongest.

“I didn’t want to force this on you. But if you really want this, we will keep it.”

“You noble idiot,” Jaskier mutters, his eyelids getting heavy. “I will only hold you back.”

“Being with you is not a burden, Jask. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

They don’t talk much after that. The fever pulls Jaskier under again, squirming against Geralt’s chest as shivers wrack his body. 

Geralt is not sure what he expected would happen, a miraculous recovery or something, but he surely didn’t expect Jaskier to be sweating and whining through the night as fever dreams plague him.

More than once, Jaskier says his name, clinging hard when Geralt reaches for the cloth to wipe Jaskier’s brow. It’s a long night, and come morning, the fever has yet to break.

Landina enters the room, noticing Geralt holding Jaskier and nods. Swiftly she takes control of the situation, ordering her apprentices around, making them fetch ointments and soup and some breakfast for the witcher. 

With her bustling around, Jaskier wakes up enough to accept medicine and soup. As soon as he is done, he tucks back in against Geralt, sighing contently as sleep claims him again.

It is… a strange feeling for Geralt. To be trusted like this, for Jaskier to so obviously find comfort in him. The bard has always been tactile, always leaning into Geralt, touching him, smiling at him, but this experience is on another level.

Geralt has a vague memory that tastes more like a dream, where they had danced, and Jaskier had smiled at him so sweetly and Geralt couldn’t help but kiss him.

It replays in his mind now, as he watches Jaskier sleep. It’s not the first time he has done that.

Sleeping always is a fickle thing for him, and to get any rest at all, meditation is what has kept him sane. During those times, it is soothing to listen to Roach chewing, the forest singing its night time song, and Jaskier’s easy breaths.

Geralt tucks a strand of hair behind Jaskier’s ear. Allows himself to think of what Landina said. About how Jaskier’s heart had been breaking for years. About how Jaskier blames himself for them bonding, as if that is not something selfishly wants.

While Geralt is waiting for Jaskier to recover, he plans. There are things he needs to tell his bard.

-

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Jaskier croaks to Landina, who chuckles when she checks his temperature.

“Someone is feeling better,” she remarks, sending Geralt a look. When Jaskier woke up, Geralt had still been in bed with him, which had been an… experience. For now, the witcher sits next to his bed, but still holding his hand.

Most of his body is very much bruised up still, and his muscles are sore from shivering and cramping through most of the night, but his head feels clearer. He has a feeling Geralt asked him something important last night, but he doesn’t feel like asking with everybody else around them.

It takes almost half an hour before Landina is satisfied, feeding him with more soup and medicine and sitting him up properly in bed.

When the door finally closes behind her, Jaskier sneaks a peek at Geralt, who is already watching him.

“Do you remember what I asked you yesterday?” the witcher asks, always straightforward when he has a goal.

“Not really? I remember you asking something, and that it felt important.”

Geralt grips his hand a little tighter, gathering his thoughts a moment before he speaks.

“I asked if you wanted this bond.”

Ah. Shit.

“And I realize I have not been a very good friend to you.”

This makes Jaskier look up in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems I have made you think I don’t care about you. That I loathe being bonded to you.”

Jaskier looks down. Wants to pull back his hand. Whatever this is, Jaskier isn’t sure he wants to hear it.

What is strange though, is what he senses through their bond.

“I bit you, because I can’t face a future without you. And it was selfish of me, and I bound you to me because of it.”

Opening and closing his mouth, Jaskier is stunned. He is sure he looks like a gaping fish, but he can’t think of one good thing to say right now. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his mind is racing.

“Why did you ask me if I wanted the bond last night, Geralt?”

“Because your body was rejecting it. Landina said it can happen when part of the bond feels rejected. I bit you once without your consent, Jaskier. I didn’t want to take that choice from you a second time.”

“Oh, you noble idiot,” Jaskier mutters, and for some reason Geralt chuckles and sits a bit closer. Jaskier finds himself leaning forward too, their hands trapped between them, fingers dancing over each other.

“I know we have a long way yet to go, but there is something that I can’t get out of my head.”

“Yes?” Jaskier breathes, eyes caught on the way Geralt’s lips move when he speaks.

“May I kiss you?”

Of all the things, this is not what Jaskier expected. 

Meeting Geralt’s eyes again, Jaskier nods. He can’t move forward, the angle is harsh for his bandaged stomach, but Geralt doesn’t mind. He moves so he sits opposite Jaskier on the bed, and with a gentle hand he tilts Jaskier’s jaw up.

Geralt’s lips are dry on his, careful in a way he wasn’t two years ago.

Taking a moment to read Jaskier’s face, Geralt decides to lean in again, guiding Jaskier back towards the mattress, leaning over him to kiss him more, like once wasn’t enough.

There is indeed a long way to go still. Jaskier needs to heal, and Geralt needs to deal with the surviving endrega nest not far from where Jaskier was hurt.

They have time. 

And for once, Jaskier feels like Geralt wants to spend that time with him.