#gremlin writing

[smol-feralgremlin]

oh fuck oh gods I have to update my pinned post and all of my tags

characters have gotten renamed to better fit with what influences are in existence for their worlds

thats so much work......................

[everydaygremlin]

Faithless

By everydaygremlin

Written in March 2023

my mutauls told me to post this

———————————-———————————-

“…And I mean, have you seen them? They're like nature’s little- Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am.” I replied.

I don’t know why he chooses me of all people to talk to about bees. I’m barely interested. Still, it’s nice to hear him talk so passionately about something, especially while on the job.

Us Greens don’t end up in many fights, but when we do, we often lose. It’s honestly ridiculous that we ended up part of The Alliance. We would’ve been a far easier target than the Blues, but who am I to judge. I'm not really supposed to be on gate duty with my little brother, but I’m filling in for one of his teammates, who went missing a couple days ago, and we have yet to find.

The last place her tracker was seen was on the edge of the Red territory, and no one has the guts to go look for her. The Red are fierce soldiers, and we’d probably find her dead. Gruesomely, at the least. Last time someone was found, their eyeballs had been gouged out, and their teeth put in their eye sockets. I think they have fun with the corpses of their enemies, even though they aren’t really supposed to kill us as part of the Alliance. It’s on the verge of collapsing though, as the Gods are getting sick of it. After a long time of waiting around with, to nobody’s surprise, nothing happening, someone took over gate duty and me and my brother went to dinner. It was almost all vegetables, but they were cooked really well, almost as if there was a new-

“COOK! You look different. Really different. Wait a second, i didn’t think we were getting a new-“

“Are you enjoying the food? Is it good?” The new cook was tall, like really tall, with blonde medium length hair. I had never seen her before, except for maybe…

“Hey,” I leant over to whisper to my brother, “doesn’t she look a bit like one of the Red fighters? a bit like Char-“ 

“Well, enjoy the food!” She quickly left, and moved to the next table. No idea why she was doing that.

“What were you saying?” My brother turned to me.

“I was saying, the cook looks a little bit like Charlotte. You know, that Red soldier who we caught last month.” She was inside our grounds. She ended up escaping our prisons when someone was sloppy.

“Well, yeah, a bit. And I don’t recognise her. Maybe we should talk to our superiors about it.”

“You know how hard it is to raise concerns with them. They don’t listen to anyone.”

“I guess you’re right.”

We left the cafeteria, and went to get some sleep before our next shift.

About halfway through our shift, I had an idea.

I turned to my brother. “What if we took off our uniforms, and changed into our normal clothes, and went out onto the field to start our OWN team?” 

“Why would we- Hey maybe you have a point. Management for us is so strict, maybe it’s strict for everyone else too. And we wouldn’t have to bow to the gods, OH OH AND WE COULD GO LOOK AT THE BEES! Yeah, this is a great idea! But when should we start…” 

“Tomorrow. They have the least people on at 9 in the morning. We could sneak out.” I knew the schedules from when there were more or less people coming in for repairs. Technicians also would occasionally get access to the cameras.

“Right. This is an awesome plan!” He looked… really, really happy. The last time he looked like this was when I got him a pass into the library. He spends almost all his free time in the library since then. Sometimes he would drag me along. I didn't mind. We were lucky to be able to walk among the towers of books.

The next morning, we were almost caught by one of our teammates.

“And where do you think you're going?” Her short stature didn't make her any less intimidating.

“Crap-“ 

“And why are you headed to the gate?”

“Oh- Uhm- Hi Alice! We were just uhh-“ 

“And most importantly, can I come with you?” She grinned at us. She wanted to leave as well! Soon, we ended up with her following us. Three of us, all leaving. The gate staff also joined us. Now we had no reason to be sceptical of our plan. Our awesome plan was working.

———————————-———————————-

After a couple months of being out on the field, we had a well-established fort in the forest; the no-man's land, and began calling ourselves the Faithless. The fort was made of old machinery and found resources. The structure resembled that of a castle, and was, in my opinion, far better than the main teams forts, just like our team! We ate at one big table, all, well, 30 of us. A sizable number of members, all fed up with their management, just looking for a reason to leave. No-one missed them, we think. We were steadily gaining members, not just through word of mouth, but we occasionally sent out scouts to the gates and front lines. Scouting had proved to have no issues thus far, and it was my responsibility today. I had to head to the Yellow team. Not really a threat. 

What was usually a long and treacherous journey turned into a short walk through the desert with some found technology I personally had assembled into a flying machine. The propellers surprisingly worked on the hot desert sands. At the gate, I was surprised to see the guards staffed with nets. They’d be useless, unless they knew what happened to their staff. The staff that joined us. 

“Still, I refuse to believe they weren’t killed. Maybe they died of heatstroke?” I overheard the guard's discussion.

“Nope, they definitely ran away. Management says there’s camera footage.”

That’s impossible. We made sure to kill all the cameras nearby. And it was a planned ordeal. They would run to us within the next week, not that night.

“Hey, is there someone there?”

“Where?”

“Just there, behind that pillar,” The guard pointed at the pillar I was hiding behind. I had been spotted. I tried my hardest to run, but their new nets caught me.

“Hah, gotcha, filthy runaway!” The taller guard said.

“Nonono, you’ve got it all wrong! You see, I’m just a delivery scout! Out to ensure that uh, your gate is up to our gate-using standards!” Drat! Of all the times for me to be bad at lying!

“Silence, criminal! We know of your evil plans! And we have our own, even evil-er plans!”

“Archibald and Alvin, celebrated as the heroes of the Yellow team! Recruiting the runaways' most sneaky spies, and forcing them to join us!” 

He kept talking for probably the next ten minutes, maybe more. His voice was so boring. I reached for the knife in my back pocket, hoping to cut the net I was trapped in. The ropes were sharp, and if I didn't get out of here soon, I would end up cut. As I tried to manoeuvre my arm around far enough to cut the rope, the two guards, who I had now gathered to be Archibald and Alvin, brought me through the gate. Any chance of a quiet escape went out the window. 

“... and no, you can’t escape, no, you can’t build a bomb, and most importantly, you don’t get to go to the gate. You have to stay within your bounds.” Archibald, or maybe Alvin, was trying to point out everything on our tour of the grounds. Eventually, we reached the board room. The office of the leadership. They would decide what would happen to me. I looked back at the hallway, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

———————————-———————————-

The leadership issued a guard to take me back to where I would be staying. I surely hoped that it would not be some kind of prison cell, but was pleasantly surprised. It was small, but there was wardrobe space, a desk, and a bathroom.  My first shift back as a technician was tomorrow, at 9:45. I just had to hope, hope that they’d realise I was missing.

———————————-———————————-

The next morning, people were starting to notice I was gone. These missions usually never took more than 12 hours, and I had been gone for almost a full day. My brother was asking anyone if they’d seen me. all of them had the same answer. “No, sorry. Last I heard she was at the yellow base.” and he was dreading coming to break me out. But it was necessary. I WAS his sister, after all.

Rescue missions are ill-advised in the main teams, but in a team like ours, the loyalty to one another is immeasurable. 

When he tried to assemble a team, almost everybody showed up. “Well, guess we’re all going.” he said to the small crowd.

Everyone here was all different, but they all have one thing in common. “You all ready to beat up some corrupt leaders and get our friends out?“ 

The group began cheering.

They were definitely ready to beat up some corrupt leaders. And also get their friend and leader out, but beating up corrupt leaders had more enthusiasm.

———————————-———————————-

My cell, more similar to a hotel room than a prison cell, was on a lower floor. It had some outside access, but the window didn’t open further than a couple inches. 

The food was okay, as was work.

I had to work as a technician, fixing things. All of the other technicians knew seemingly nothing about the tech. No wonder repairs here took over a month, even with all of the high tech equipment in this dimly lit room, with the walls covered in a mess of pipes and wires, similar to the inside of some massive machine. Every time I tried talking to the other technicians, even just about the weather, they would mutter something quietly, and not wait for a response.

One time, I asked them why they were so quiet. One of them lent over to me, and whispered; “They used to be able to hear us, so we made things to communicate with one another without them hearing.” They handed me an earpiece, and when I put it on, there was a buzzing conversation.

They sounded like they were planning an escape. Except, they knew nothing of the Faithless. From what I heard, the only thing sitting between them and freedom was numbers. They couldn’t escape, all because of their numbers. 

But knowledge of people on the outside was just the push they needed

———————————-———————————-

The plan that the yellow tech team came up with was an amazing idea. With the knowledge that they had a place to get to on the other side, it was perfect. Cause an electrical fault with the gate, the biggest piece of equipment, bringing all of the technicians there, broadcasting their message, and then running. Running and running and running. Running until finally…

———————————-———————————-

Halfway to the yellow gate, the Faithless saw a large group of yellow workers, running like their lives depended on it. Which they did, kind of. But they had reached a safe point, and they were out. They burst into the fort of the Faithless, relieved to finally have escaped.

———————————-———————————-

We had made it. We were all free.

With our numbers nearly doubled, we recruited far more people, eventually dwindling the numbers of the main teams to a small team of those in charge and some incredibly loyal staff. The rest were all those who were so sick and tired of fighting. We had all run from the battlegrounds, much to the dismay of management.

We were on our way to a new, far brighter, future.

[smol-feralgremlin]

Soras landed not far behind her. Aldon had clearly spotted her from the air, seeing as Selenis was across the harbour, nosing at the remnants of some wooden structure or another. Futile. There was nothing and nobody here anymore. Just her and the remnants of the scream that had torn her throat apart. Not long after, Aldon's footsteps came up to her. He slipped a little but it was still his very familiar heavy, careful tread. As soon as he stopped, she held out the bottle of cane wine she'd used to wash the taste of his blood from her mouth and attempt to pretend she was using it to help her throat. "Peace?"

"I'm not mad that you bit me," he replied, his voice muffled. He took the bottle. "You need something that isn't this."

"You're right. That stuff is awful. Ale however-"

"No. You aren't doing this." The bottle went far into the harbour, landing with a splash bare seconds before Aldon sat beside her, his headscarves wrapped around his face to cover his nose. "Drinking to cope is the worst way to handle your grief."

He would know, wouldn't he. He withdrew into silence when he grieved. Gods forbid anyone else tried to do things a different way. But he had a point. She leaned back onto her hands and looked up at Aldon, who had his head scarves pulled over his nose. "I'm going to kill her."

Aldon's eyes creased in the way they did when he frowned. "You need to come home. You sound awful, and we can help you with everything-"

"No." She looked back out to the harbour. "Seraphim is already annoying me, trying to get me to go home. I'm not going home."

Aldon touched her shoulder gently. "We can stay here then, until you're ready."

He wasn't getting it. Or didn't want to get it. Looking up at the stars just barely starting to come out, Sylpha breathed in the cooling, smoke filled air. "Did you know we burn our dead?"

"You mentioned it once or twice."

"There's no wood around Hulls Deep. Not really. The nightstalkers killed a lot of people. There's a lot of blood around here, but not enough for them to have killed everyone and bodies would be floating if they'd just stabbed and and dropped them into the water." Even with her throat in this ragged state, she could recite the bare fact. Cold. Clinical. It felt good to explain why she was going to do what she was going to do. "So they took the rest. Killed who they wanted to, who they had to. And then left. It wasn't the nightstalkers who burned the dead. That was us. Others came back here. They did what they could and then they left."

"So there's still free pirates," Aldon said as he reached for her hand. She grimaced at the bandage on his forearm. He said he wasn't angry though. One day she might be able to make it up to him, considering he had already tossed the wine.

Share an excerpt where a character says "no."

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Click here for more “share an excerpt” tips.

[iamrizaka]

As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.

He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.

Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.

There's a green flannel and a note:

For my little brother, Will

— Lee

P.S. stop stealing my clothes!

He never takes it off.

[bluerosefox]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[deerspherestudios]

If anyone's wondering how the new VN for the Monstrous Desires jam is going,,

[thatquietkid108]

Aliens: The pH of the soil is too high, I believe I'm gonna die!

Humans: FUCK YEAH! CONCRETE !

[azzo0]

Infinite Memories

Summary: It's Katsuki's 25th birthday. After celebrating and cleaning up, you take him on a trip down memory lane.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Contains: established relationship, implied childhood friends to lovers, reader takes a bath with bakugo but nothing nsfw, foofy foofy fluff

wc: 1.2k

Katsuki made sure everyone at the party knew he was forced to be here and didn't like this shit at all, but you knew that was far from the truth. Standing with a glass of wine in your hand, you couldn't help but grin at him as he sat with his friends, Sero's arm slung around his shoulders. He was smiling unawares. He was totally enjoying this. 

Everyone had agreed to hold Katsuki's birthday party at his parents' house, given they had an enormous backyard. Mitsuki had cooked an amazing dinner while you and Mina decorated the backyard, leaving the boys to get the cake. It was supposed to be a surprise for Katsuki, but of course, he had to go and say he already remembered it was his birthday. It was just like him. You couldn't count the number of birthdays you tried to surprise him. He even acted like he was confused, but you knew better.

After the party, you and Katsuki stayed back to help with cleaning up. You dumped the plastic plates in a trash bag and then helped Mitsuki wash the dishes while the birthday boy removed the decorations in the back. 

"Are you sure you guys don't want to stay?" Mitsuki asked one last time as you two stood in the doorway. 

"No, ma," Katsuki said, "It's been a long night. Gonna go home and sleep."

"You can do that here, too," Mitsuki insisted.

"We won't fit in my old bed, you know that too," he sighed. 

"Alright, then. Good night." Mitsuki pulled you in a hug and gave Bakugo's cheek a smooch despite his protests. 

As soon as you entered the apartment, you took off your heels, kept the food Mitsuki had packed for you and joined Katsuki in the bathroom. He stood shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth as the bathtub filled with warm water. You stood in front of him, grabbing a wipe to remove the makeup from your face. He rinsed his mouth and took the wipe from you, tilting your face towards him as he gently cleaned your face. 

You guys undressed, stepping into the shower cubicle, big enough for two. Katsuki sat on the step stool, and you shampooed his hair for him, followed by cleaning his back while he scrubbed the rest of his body. He did the same for you afterwards, massaging your shower products into your hair and washing your back while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, planting an occasional kiss to your neck. 

You joined him in the tub after that, your head on top of his chest while his fingers brushed through your wet hair, his eyes closed, "Did you enjoy the party, 'Suki?"

"A little," he replied. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest. 

"Just a little?"

"Very little," he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile, which told you he did enjoy the party. You shifted to kiss him, working your way around his jaw and onto his face. He caught your lips in a lazy kiss, his hand tracing up and down your spine. It was getting very late, and Katsuki had to go to work in the morning. 

In the bedroom, he sat on the bed as you did his skin care for him, patting serums and moisturisers onto his skin. He crawled under the covers once you were done, resting his head against the headboard as he watched you do your skincare in front of the mirror. You caught his eye in the mirror and glanced back, "Don't go to sleep. There's something I want to give you, birthday boy."

"Okay," he replied, his crimson gaze following you as you left the room. He fought to stay awake as his eyes slowly shut. 

"You're falling asleep," your voice brought him back to his senses. 

"I'm not," he retorted. 

You smiled and sat beside him, slipping under the blanket. You handed him a photo album. He took it from you, looking down at it. It had a beige leather cover with a heart engraved on the front. Inside the heart was a word in italics: Us. 

He opened the album and was greeted by a picture of him and you as toddlers, only two years old. A smile danced on his lips as he looked down at the picture. You were crying in it because he had snipped one of your pigtails while he sat on the floor with a pair of scissors, a gleeful grin on his face. Under the picture, written in your handwriting was, 'I'm not sure which one of the adults left you alone with a scissor, but I'm still mad you cut off my cutesy hair.'

"Heh, I was a fucking hair stylist!" Bakugo exclaimed, all his sleep gone. 

"Hair stylist, my ass. You just cut off a huge section of my hair." 

He turned the page to see more baby pictures of you two, with a picture of you guys standing in your elementary school uniforms on the next page. You were grinning at the camera while Bakugo pouted, looking like he'd stab someone with the stick in his hand. He found your commentary under the pictures hilarious, 'My boyfie does not like school.'

The album brought back so many special memories he had with you. His fingers stopped over a page with a picture of you wearing a crown made of different flowers while he stood beside you, little ears dusting pink, 'He decided to marry me when we were six.'

"Where did you get that picture from?" He groaned, running a hand down his face in embarrassment, "I don't even remember anyone taking a picture of us!"

"Well, my father had it," You smiled, glancing up at him. He still blushed like he did when he was six. 

He flipped through each page with you, smiling at the wholesome ones and scoffing at the embarrassing ones, each turn of the page a reminder of the constant and unwavering support you gave him to this day. In this album you made him, he took a trip through his middle and high school days he spent with you. You also put a picture of him receiving his award for making it to the top two, 'Proud of you, Dyanamight- your #1 fan.'

There was a picture of your guys' engagement and wedding. He shook his head and laughed at them, blinking away the tears that were starting to form. How far he had come with you. The last picture was a fresh one. It was from the party. He was looking at you as you stuffed your mouth with the cake, 'Happy 25th birthday, Katsuki.' Mitsuki was the one hopping around with a polaroid camera. He was sure you got it from her.

"Thank you, y/n," he said, looking to his side to see you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, your mouth ajar. 

His hand searched for his phone under the pillow. He opened the camera app, switching to the front camera. He snapped a picture and stared at it for the longest time. It was beautiful, with the bedside lamps casting a golden hue around you two. He found it adorable how your cheek was mushed on his shoulder with your mouth open. He'd get it printed on his way to work and put it in the album. 

He'd slowly stick more pictures in it over time. When pages would run out, he'd add more pages because he still had infinite memories waiting to be made with you.  

[ghostlysoaps]

Inspiration - @ghcstao3

There's something to be said about the way John "Soap" MacTavish, notorious for his fleeting fancy of any given subject when off an op, hasn't been able to get Simon Riley out of his head. Granted, even before "The Incident" his lieutenant occupied his thoughts frequently. But now, oh, not a minute goes by where his attention doesn't stray, where his eyes aren't drawn to Ghost’s hulking figure, and he wishes they'd been stationed literally anywhere else but the monotone grey of autumnal England.

His sketchbook is filled with pages upon pages of studies. Greens and browns and gold – the myriad of colours hazel can be – despite how none of them feel right. Too saturated, too dark, too light. Too much or too little. Then again... it is near impossible to recreate a work of art after a mere fleeting second of studying the original. La Gioconda del Prado wasn't made with a peripheral glance at Da Vinci's subject – so how is Johnny to do the impossible?

-

"Spar with me."

Ghost pauses with his fork mid-way to his mouth. A mouth Johnny would gladly analyze at length, or map with his own one day, if not for the unhealthy obsession he's taken with Ghost's eyes.

One thing at a time.

His irises are shadowed by the tilt of his head and the presence of eyeblack but there is a subtle difference between them. Johnny is fool enough to think he can see it no matter how shit the lighting. Deluded, even, if his long-suffering best friend is to be believed. They're also dark with question, narrowed with thoughts and opinions kept close at heart.

"Alright," Ghost says and pushes the rest of his dinner away, pausing briefly as if to say something before ultimately deciding against it.

Johnny follows him with a pronounced bounce in his step and speeds through stretching and warming up. It'll be a killer tomorrow but that's a problem for future Johnny. Sore muscles are a small price to pay if it means settling a mystery.

They take their places, circling each other lazily. Johnny, ever the impatient one, lunges first and ends up with Ghost's heavy weight straddling the small of his back a couple minutes later. He grinds his teeth and heaves himself back to his feet. Sweat beads at his temples, his neck, trickling down his spine. Alight with purpose, he throws himself back in the fray.

He sways out of Ghost’s reach, blocking and evading, bouncing on the tips of his toes, throwing punches when it's fitting while he awaits the perfect time to strike. They're both grinning. It's plain as day on his own face, more subtle on Ghost's. The way the corners of his eyes crease gives him away, the shift of his plain balaclava as his lips twitch.

Johnny is focused on them like a bloodhound on a scent and when Ghost tosses his head, tilting it up with a roll of his shoulders, the florescent lights catching them just so.

Oh, is all he can think with the truth of him laid plain to see – how Johnny had been right all along. They differ subtly in darkness but when cast in either sunshine sepia or lightbulb white the contrast between them is stark. One is the deep, dark of pine, a forest green with too many hues to accurately count. It compliments the wooden brown of tree-trunk bark, flecks of whiskey-gold therein framed by pale lashes of nearly the same colour.

A modern day Medusa who stops him dead in his tracks, mesmerised, as Ghost's fist slams into the side of his face with the concentrated power of an eighteen-wheeler barreling into a concrete wall.

-

Ghost's face swims back into view an undetermined amount of time later. Worry etched into the tense way he carries himself. His hands are cupping Johnny’s cheeks, thumbs stroking once under his lower lids before they tilt his head back a fraction. He hovers close, peering into Johnny’s eyes as if they hold the secrets of the universe therein.

"Fuckin' hell Johnny. Anything broken?"

Johnny blinks at him, a dopey smile spreading over his lips like molasses.

Ghost, if anything, looks even more worried.

"Talk to me, Sergeant."

"You've beautiful eyes."

Ghost freezes in place. Gobsmacked, if Johnny were to put an expression to it. He murmurs a string of delightfully innovative curses under his breath, manoeuvring Johnny to sitting upright, and the change in vantage point only makes him a little bit dizzy. The dark spots dancing before his eyes is nothing new, honestly, but they are annoying when they're ruining his view.

"Knocked what little sense you had left right out of your head, huh?" Ghost sounds amused and Soap realises, belatedly, that he might've said all that out loud. "Price'll have a field day with this."

"Take some responsibility an' kiss it better then."

"You're concussed."

"Och aye, an' whose fault is tha'? You and yer bonnie eyes. Could get lost in 'em, y'ken?"

"You're off your head, mate."

"Ahm'nt! An' if you'd jus' stay still for a moment an' lemme look at ye, this wouldn't 'ave been an issue," Johnny grumbles indignantly. Grumbles, because whining is for children and it never works in getting him what he wants anyway. Ghost usually looks at him with the flattest stare imaginable whenever he tries. Horrid man. Johnny kind of wants to kiss him about it.

"Tell you what, Johnny. If you're good–" Ghost slings his arm over his shoulder, kindly ignoring the way his words leave him shivering, "–i'll let you look all you want."

Johnny leans against him when he's levered to his feet, swaying like a branch caught in the wind. "I can be good."

"Mmh. You're gonna listen to the nurses once I drop you off at medical?"

Soap groans and smushes his face deeper into Ghost’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-

Ghost keeps his promises, it is an irrefutable fact, and Johnny can and will take advantage of that with shameless abandon.

Crawling into Ghost's lap with a shit-eating grin, paints and brushes well-within reach, wobbling precarious on his perch until Ghost takes pity and steadies him with scorching hands on his hips feels like a victory despite the dull throbbing in his temple and purpling bruises lapping up the side of his face. There are no protests when he guides Ghost's head this-way-and-that. No complaints are heard even when the warm glow of his bedside lamp shines at his eyes and their kaleidoscope of colours become present again. Ghost keeps his gaze unwavering focused when Johnny's hands rest on his face in a mirror of the day prior – though his eyelids droop down the fraction of an inch. It's intense and intimate and Johnny, no stranger to selfishness when he can get away with it, can't help but be greedy.

"Can you be good for me now, Simon?"

His lieutenant nods as far as Johnny’s hands allow and though him closing his eyes is the opposite of good, Johnny can't fault him when his own slide shut as he brings their faces together for the first time – a new obsession flaring to life in the wake of lips brushing fabric.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 9

Kink: Somnophilia

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Tags/Warnings:  SMUT, Somnophilia, established relationship, petnames (doll, baby), p-in-v, f masterbation (brief), vaginal fingering, creampie, sex dreams (not in depth but mentioned)

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You always tell Bucky to wake you up when he comes back from missions but you never specified how.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

A/N: I know, I know. I'm late. Apologies. I'm going back to my home country for my birthday this week and I'm trying to get all of my uploads scheduled! So, I have the last few from last week to upload and then next week there will be a LOT of posts haha - Love Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Bucky had been on back to back missions, and although you insisted on him waking you up so you could make him food or cuddle him, he'd declined. He hadn’t wanted to ruin a good night's sleep for you; he knew how precious that was.

"Buck, I promise I'm okay with you coming to bed after a mission. I don't care if you wake me." You'd argued with him before he left again. You had been adamant about him not sleeping on the floor or sofa in fear of waking you up. You much preferred waking up to his pretty face than an empty bed.

"We'll see, doll." Bucky sighed, pecking your lips quickly as he headed out the door. "Love you."

"Love you."

When the door closes behind him you sigh to yourself. Maybe one day you'll manage to convince him.

Two days before Bucky was scheduled back you lay awake in bed, vibrator on your clit, dreaming of your boyfriend being home.

Every time he was away you missed him terribly and it didn't take long for you to cum to the thought of him more than once (although nothing would compare to the real thing). Your pyjamas and panties are lost to the sheets, a wave of tiredness washing over you as you clean up your vibe and wash your hands with strategically placed wet wipes.

You roll onto your back and stretch. You couldn't be bothered to make an attempt to find your panties. You were doomed to your fate of being pantyless, sprawled on your bed, wishing your boyfriend were home.

Your eyes flutter, heavy with sleep. Bucky'd be home soon. Maybe you should propose the idea of waking you up with sex. You make a hum of contentment to yourself. Maybe you will. But then again, any kind of sex with Bucky is sex you want to be having.

Bucky and sex with Bucky are still on the forefront of your mind as you drift to sleep.

Bucky's mission finished two and a half days early.

His plan was to get home to you as soon as possible, flowers in hand as always. Due to delays it wasn't until past 1am that he managed to get through the door.

He dumped his bags and gently placed the flowers on the dining table. You had already gone to bed so he would have to wait until tomorrow to surprise you with them. Bucky scanned the quiet apartment whilst Alpine brushed up against his legs.

He looked to the sofa then to your bedroom door. Alpine mewled haughtily; every time he came home he'd fall asleep with her on the sofa but tonight it was different. He thought about what you said before he left. How you said it every time.

Wake me up when you come home.

With a pat to Alpine’s head, Bucky padded to the bedroom quietly. The door whined on it hinges as he pushed it open, but as he slinked through he could just about see you through the light in the curtains.

Bucky took in your sleeping form; tangled in the sheets and sprawled out almost entirely on the bed. You looked so peaceful. Not even close to elegant but peaceful and it brought a smile to Bucky’s face.

Then you huff and murmur his name. Bucky inches forward, thinking you've woken up. There's a miniscule amount of guilt but the thought of seeing you beam up at him quickly replaced it. But you don't open your eyes. You shift in the sheets, moving your hips upward and kicking the comforter further down your body.

You're so pliable in this state, relaxed and soft. Bucky only needs to tap your knee outward gently for you to spread your legs wide for him. You're wearing nothing but a cropped shirt that barely covers your tits. Bucky's eyes scan the covers and find your pyjama shorts and panties discarded in the covers; clearly you had some fun before falling asleep. He bites back a chuckle and looks back to you. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but you look so good right now he can't help himself. Didn't you say you wouldn't mind being woken up by him? You didn't specify how.

Bucky traces the insides of your thighs, curious if you'd stir. You shift slightly and hum in your sleep but you don't wake up. Bucky releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and runs a finger along your still glistening folds experimentally. This time you let out a breathless whimper and spread your legs even further.

Watching you mewl under his touch even when you're asleep makes his cock ache. He shifts closer to you, sitting between your legs for a better reach of your wet folds, his thumb finding your clit easily. The noises you made when his thumb brushed over your already sensitive nub had his free hand freeing his hard cock almost immediately. You writhed beneath him limply, your legs making lazy, half hearted attempts to close, but Bucky's broad body was in the way.

"Look at you, doll." Bucky huffed quietly, pumping his cock as a finger slipped inside of your eager pussy, making you cry out Bucky's name quietly. "Bein' so good for me even while you sleep."

Bucky adds a second finger shortly after, stretching you open. You were already so wet you probably didn't need it but Bucky was adamant to ensure you woke up to only pleasure. He can feel you clench around his fingers, your gently, sleepy gasps coming more rapidly. You were going to cum so quickly and easily around his fingers, dreaming of him no less.

Bucky removes his fingers from your pussy and you whine quietly in complaint. He gathers slick from your folds, running the tip of his cock teasingly up and down, and biting back his own loud groan. You feel ridiculously silky and wet but the thought of you waking up with him buried inside you has Bucky’s cock twitch against your clit. He lines himself with your entrance and slowly pushes into you, watching your face as he does.

Your eyes flutter briefly, and Bucky’s hands come up to cup your face in the almost-darkness. When his cock reaches its hilt he tries to groan quietly; your pussy flutters and clenches him, still desperate for more.

"Bucky." You huff, head turning into his palm. Your eyes flutter again and you have the familiar toe curling feeling brewing at your core and the feeling of being filled to the brim.

"Yeah, doll?" Bucky murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. He moves his hips slowly, almost taking care not to move to hard too fast, although he's desperate to cum.

Your eyes flutter again but this time they stay open. It takes you a minute to register waking up from the sex dream you were having, eyes adjusting to the darkness around you. The weight on top of you, inside you, makes your pussy clench when you recognise your boyfriend's aftershave. Your eyes are like dinnerplates in the darkness but you can see the rise and fall of Bucky's chest, and just about make out the blue of his eyes looking back at you.

You lick your lips as you feel his cock throb inside you, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to capture his lips in a sleepy kiss.

"Welcome home, baby." You mumble, wrapping your legs around his waist a little tighter. Bucky sinks back further into your pussy as he kisses your face, and this time you moan a little louder.

"'M sorry for waking you." He says, thrusts getting quicker. You're awake now, there's no reason for him to hold back. You're body is wide awake, ripping you from your sleep state and throwing you over to pleasure.

"'S okay," you pant out, your grip on his is still lazy and sleepy, but your body feels like it's on fire as he fucks into you mercilessly. Your first orgasm rips through you quickly, too sensitive from Bucky's teasing and your earlier me-time to withstand the pleasure Bucky is giving you. Your cry out his name with a whimper, turning to gasps of ecstasy as you cum over his cock and he smiles against your neck whispering praises as your cunt milks him. Bucky cums after your second orgasm, your pussy fluttering around his cock too much for him to bare. His thrusts slow ensuring he's filled you to the brim with his cum before stopping entirely to relish the state you're both in.

Panting together, Bucky rolls off you slowly, and you huff at the loss of heat on top of you.

"You okay?" He murmurs, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist. He snuggles in close, pressing kisses to your shoulder. You chuckle turning to him and pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Better than okay." You sigh dreamily. "I wanna wake up to that all the time."

Bucky snorts gently. "I'll keep that in mind, doll."

"I'm glad you're back and that you came and woke me up." You smile and cuddle closer into his arms. As you're settling next to him, your eyelids begin to droop, getting heavy again.

"So am I," Bucky says, yawning loudly clearly feeling the same unstoppable have of tiredness. Travelling home and fucking in the same night after a long mission meant he'd be sleeping well tonight.

You hum happily. "Love you."

"Love you, doll."

Wrapped in each other's arms you both fall asleep quickly, waking up the next to one another the following day and repeating the night's activities.

[dclovesdanny]

DCxDP prompt

Danny has already been adopted by the Wayne’s, and figured out they were vigilantes ages ago, but he hasn’t said a word. He likes watching them freak out trying to come up with excuses, and he is having a blast with this. He also loves playing innocent, especially when he hears them talking about cases.

The batfamily, on the other hand, think Danny is sweet and oblivious, with several of them lamenting about how innocent and sweet he is.

However, Danny’s gremlin side is getting restless. Maybe, he can pull a few pranks on his new family, just a few. Let’s see their reactions to his lore drops.

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 17: Quin

This image was created with Picrew’s “[BAYDEWS' avatar maker!!] V2“!!  https://picrew.me/share?cd=XaLeZMqubv #Picrew #BAYDEWS_avatar_maker_V2

Quintheral Rattivan.

Fourth Galactic Imperial Prince, Sun of the Third House, and Holder of the Second Seal.

[cheeseplants]

STORYTIME. I am fairly new to fanfic and I committed the cardinal sin of deleting a WIP fic I was having a hard time finishing. At the time I persuaded myself noone really cared.

I got caught up thinking: it wasn't getting a lot of kudos or comments, I had rushed it, the grammar wasn't good, the story wasn't working, people didn't like my characterisation, it wasn't beta-ed etc etc etc.

I was embarrassed it sat there without me being able to finish it, because I listened to the mind gremlins that told me it wasn't good enough.

Then I deleted it.

The other day someone messaged me on another one my fics asking where that fic had gone! They were looking for it, and it had disappeared. They quoted a line back to me from that fic I deleted months ago. That they REMEMBERED.

It made me realise my mind gremlins were talking BS. Even if you have only a few subscribers or kudos or whatever, your fic could be someone's FIC. It could be one they search for, it could be one they remember lines from. They could be devastated it's not there anymore.

It's easy to get so all consumed by stats, and think that others are doing better or that your thing isn't working. But what if even with your small following, you are making someone's day!

I have learned a lot since I wrote that fic, and I have it in a Drive, and now feel motivated to go back, and fix the things that got me stuck.

BUT THE MAIN THING IS - SOMEONE OUT THERE ACTUALLY MIGHT LOVE YOUR FIC.

DON'T LET STATS BE THE BENCHMARK.

DON'T LET THE MIND GREMLINS WIN.

YOUR WRITING MATTERS.

Somewhere out there a lovely internet stranger could love what you made and that is special. ❤️

Thank you for making your art! Good job.

[smol-feralgremlin]

Got sidetracked reading the stuff earlier in my wip Between Dragons and Nightstalkers to find this but I got found something I likes. This is still in all its roughest form so if it reads a little weird, thats why. :D

Bonus! There's more than one character being described here. All under the read more.

In the months since Aldon had last seen the young sea elf king, he'd gotten visibly older. No longer appearing to be in his early twenties, he stood straighter and with more solemn intensity to his face. Those storm sea eyes carried traces of the wrinkles that Aldon had himself gained, and he found that comforting in a way. Pichela's silver tattoos had been added onto as well, and his skin darker from the sun and he could almost see the sea salt ingrained in the driftwood staff he held loosely, but with the practiced ease of someone who knew their weapon of choice very well. It was a warlike ease that Aldon was sorry to see.

Next to him, Inalda bounced on her feet. More than a year ago her prosthetic leg had been designed and tweaked so that it allowed her to move with her customary bounce. Gleaming red wood with patterns of blue and white swirled around it in a bewitching pattern meant to draw the eye and distract whoever might be wanting to do her harm. Long enough for her to run them through. She too had a more warlike visage, with the return of the three blue lines stretching from the corner of her eyes and across her temples. Despite her bouncing, she looked weary.

The weariest though, might just be Tulava. Silver blond hair and the moon pale skin contrasted intensely with the shadows that haunted her eyes fighting the vining botanicals painted in black on her face for which was more prominent. She kept a firm hold on the black sheathed sword she wore at her hip openly. Weary as she looked she had traded her normal elegantly neutral expression for one of watchful determination. She gave Aldon a curt nod before shifting her gaze to Sylpha, her eyes narrowing with displeasure at her.

Kaldar was as much a monolith of a man as he always was, but Aldon saw something familiar in his stance and face that tugged at his memories. Fatigue that did not betray the iron determination that laid bone deep in the king. He'd seen it in his own father, the look of a man who wasn't far from stepping down but knew they were still needed. The gold paint that decorated his dark skin didn't rival Kaldar's golden eyes lined with red.

Aldon followed his gold painted arm to see that Kaldar had his hand clasped on the shoulder of a smaller elf with equally as dark skin. A quick glance directed at their hands to search for rings determined the elf was neither man or woman. They had gold paint in similar sun ray patterns to Kaldar, although they wore necklaces of fine gold chains and green gems that matched the green paint that lined their pale orange eyes instead of the gold and ruby collar that Kaldar wore.

Share an excerpt where one character describes another character

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Click here for more “share an excerpt” tips.

[slytherizz]

Fight or Flight - Sebastian Sallow/F!MC

Summary: Sometimes sleeping dogs don't lie.

Two years after his uncles death and with Anne missing the last remaining Auror who scents deception requests a testimony from the only person witness to what really happened between Sebastian and Solomon in the catacombs that day. In a bid to protect those memories and keep him out of Azkaban their marriage is arranged - A marriage Sebastian is hell bent on putting a stop to.

Word count: 15,000 (remember when I said I’d keep it under 10k)

Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, 18+, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Angst, Masturbation, First Time

Link: You can find the complete fic on Ao3.

A/N: Sebastian ‘my wife’ Sallow. To the anon who requested this, I’m sorry it’s so late but it was so much fun to write.

Sebastian is almost certain he’d been on the receiving end of a lethal confundus charm. Either that or he was at present suffering a massive life altering haemorrhage somewhere amongst the sun deceptively warming his cheeks and the familiar groan of the dragon bones anchored above them, as it tilted its great head in greeting when they'd arrived in Hecate's office. Full of mysterious tombs and the lingering scent of smoke. Ash trampled so tightly into the grooves in the floorboards he doubted even the house elves could scour out the smell. 

He’d gotten too comfortable. No. Down right complacent as of late and now his psyche in a riotous act of self-preservation was giving him a blistering slap back into reality. 

Pull yourself together. 

Sebastian dug his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. He hissed at the sharp pain as he broke the skin. Felt the blood prickle hot against his sweat slicked palms as it beaded along the thin superficial wound. Uncomfortable. Stinging. And far, far too real. 

“What-?” he managed to croak around a lump in his throat. Praying to Merlin that if this wasn’t a dream it was some elaborate and albeit cruel practical joke. 

“Spousal Privileges,” Hecat repeated. Matter of fact. Her features were drawn and to his dismay betraying no hint of amusement. 

Sebastian choked violently on his own saliva. A hacked cough, raw against his throat. As if the wind had been knocked out of him by a patient and vindictive phantom.

“What this means is you couldn’t be forced to give a testimony or surrender any memories pertaining to anything to do with Mr Sallow. With his sister still missing, the only people who know what really happened in that catacomb are the two of you. If you can’t be forced to corroborate this theory that has been gaining traction at the Ministry that’s the way it stays,” his professor continued to address the witch beside him, unmoved by the blood draining rapidly from his face. 

Her eyes were fixed intently on Hecat, chin raised as she refused to meet Sebastian’s increasingly panicked eye. He shifted in his seat towards her. Turning rapidly back and forth between her and their professor. 

Waiting. A heartbeat and then more passed. Mounting up until it became a deafening drum in his ears. 

He wanted her to laugh. Let it loose. Burst the dangerous tension mounting with every second this insanity stretched on for. Most pathetically of all - he wanted her to save him. Wanted to watch her face crease with laughter at the absurdity of what Hecat was saying. Cling to some sense of normalcy, her stability by his side whilst the rest of him was spiralling out of control.

She was uncharacteristically still in her chair. As frozen as the statue of the mourning lover in the courtyard. Her fist clenched so tightly in the pleats of her skirt her knuckles blanched. A half finished braid she’d been fiddling with behind her ear hung abandoned. Not a shadow of humour remaining. 

“Why now? It’s been years since…”  she asked, with a more measured tone Sebastian felt the situation did not warrant.

She spared him a glance which did little to put him at ease. If anything the serious crease to her brow set him on a razor's edge. 

Sebastian was unravelling. The thread he’d used to stitch back together a semblance of a life was pulling apart at an alarming rate. And the only two people who had any hope of holding him back together were entertaining this insanity. 

“Some of Miss Sallow’s effects were uncovered at the former Feldcroft residence. It seems no one had tended to the home since your Uncle passed…unexpectedly. My contact at the Ministry informs me that there's only one Auror pushing for those memories. Sergeant Tuttle. Old guard. Worked closely with your uncle when they were both juniors in the department. The rest are happy to let Solomon’s memory remain as it has been for the past two years - the heroic final act protecting his young charges from a horde of uncontrollable inferi,” she paused and Sebastian felt the weight of every word. “Personally I am inclined to agree.”

Hecate’s already thin lips pulled so tight they almost entirely disappeared. Her inscrutable brown eyes peeling back the curtain seeing far beyond the truth to the crux of him. Weighing his mettle. And he wasn’t sure she’d be impressed at what she found. 

Because what he was - was careless. Sebastian supposed he could argue that his distress over losing his sister had made it too painful to return. Knowing Anne was not there, Feldcroft seemed rather pointless. 

But really all he’d been was too eager to turn his back on that hovel that had never been his home. Ivy grew thick over its stones and he hoped one day it would pull it down entirely. No one had touched the wards in over a year. Perhaps when he’d boxed up his feelings and shoved them away in his desperation to move past what he had done, he didn’t consider the possibility that there were others out there who, unlike him, may not want to move on so hastily from Solomon's death. 

Anne certainly hadn’t. 

“With you two being so close, this is the cleanest option-” Hecate continued. 

“I don’t bloody care about clean!” Sebastian broke from his stupor. Fist slamming on the table rattling the spoon from where it rested against his saucer. “Tell me the other options. I don’t care how messy they are. I’ll do them.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase,” Hecat said sharply. “This is your only option. And you’d do well not to leap to such dramatics if you want this to work, Mr Sallow. In particular I’d advise against taking such a tone with me.” 

Sebastian didn’t care. He’d already geared up to argue back against this preposterous idea when the statue of the witch beside him suddenly came to life. As if Pygmalion himself had loved her into life just to spite Sebastian. 

“We’ll do it,” she said firmly. 

Sebastian choked again, head snapping to look at her. “You can’t be serious!” 

She simply glared back at him, as if he wasn’t the only reasonable person left in the room. “I’ve kept you out of Azkaban this long-“

Their professor cleared her throat, having little patience for the squabblings of teenagers that was beginning to unfold in her office. It set Sebastian even more on edge. She’d thrown a bomb into their lives and was now regarding him as some petulant child causing a scene. As if instead while he was scrambling to hold it together she expected him to thank her for it. 

“I’d choose your words more carefully in front of an audience but I admire the passion. If you want this to succeed you’ll have to make them believe this. Believe you. You can’t cast any doubt on the reason for any of it. A young couple, so in love they simply cannot wait to be married.”

***

It was like taking a match to a forest doused in kerosine. How quickly word could spread overnight when students kept such close quarters and they were eager for anything to save them from revision. Whispers billowed up from steeped mugs. Steam laced with secrets curled around their lips. Huddled so tightly together they looked like hydras. Each set of eyes alight with amusement. Teeth bared ready to feast on their speculation. 

From the moment Sebastian had stepped into the Great Hall he’d felt it. The oppressive shift to the atmosphere that usually welcomed him each morning. Clouds dark, heavy with the foreboding rain swirled on the enchanted sky. At least it was fitting.

Instinctively he sought her out. Looked for hers amongst the hundreds of eyes turned towards him. Which he pointedly ignored instead following the remaining half who stole glances towards her. 

Blue. Green. Brown. Shifted between them assessing to see what they might do. 

She was boxed into the middle of the table by Onai and Sweeting with Reyes taking up the spot across from them. A vicious hound guarding her flock ensured even the most brazen little wretch who considered interrupting would think twice - give her wrath a wide berth. 

Reyes to her credit - snarling banshee that she was - looked as deeply horrified by the pathetic silver band on her friend's finger as Sebastian felt it deserved. 

They’d transfigured it hastily from a pair of silver spectacles once they’d stumbled out of Hecat’s office the previous evening. One she kept in an odd tangle of items in her satchel and the rushed magic had already begun to tarnish its appearance. It was a wonder anyone actually believed them with how dull and thoughtless it looked sitting on her hand. 

If her smile wasn’t so tight, or her laugh a little too airy she would be executing Hecat’s ludicrous scheme to perfection. 

Sebastian swallowed around the lump in his throat and sheepishly changed course. Rerouted himself away from the group of witches throwing his bag down on the bench and slumping into a seat at the Slytherin table. Which seemed to delight some of the onlookers. Clearly humiliation was a good seasoning for eggs, he thought as he poured himself a cup of tea from the pot and took out his potions essay in an attempt to look busy enough no one would suspect exactly why he was sitting alone. Or worse, try and talk to him. Not that they would dare when his face looked as thunderous as the sky overhead. It didn't, however, stop him from overhearing their animated gossiping. 

‘Do you think she’s…you know?’ 

‘Obviously! Who in their right mind gets married a month before they leave school? Clearly they’re in a rush before she starts to y’know...’ one girl smirked with an exaggerated flourish over her stomach.

Sebastian shot a glare across to the gaggle of Ravenclaw’s in the year below. Who giggled even more loudly when they caught his eye, one turning pink from the tips of her ears to well past the neckline of her jumper. Sebastian on the other hand felt like someone had doused him in a bucket of water from the lake. 

If Reyes didn’t skin him for the insulting piece of jewellery she certainly would if she suspected he’d gotten her favourite flying partner up the kyte. 

Sebastian tried to focus on his potions essay. List even a single ingredient of ‘Felix Felicis’ which was proving to be impossible when behind him a brazen fourth year proclaimed and loudly he’d caught them sequestered away between the stacks of the restricted section - her body bent over a desk. Sebastian’s grip on the quill tensed as he strained himself to write the differing effects between wyrm and dragon scale on a potion - and not a very vivid description of what he apparently looked like on his knees buried between her thighs. Ink blotted on the parchment. 

Sod Hecat on ‘selling it’. Why did they need to go to such lengths when apparently every gossiping vulture was content to click their beak and do all the work for them? 

Surely Azkaban couldn’t be worse than this? 

Well, that was delusional - but if he overheard one more person comment on if her robes looked bigger he was more than likely going to do something that would get him thrown in Azkaban regardless. 

Sebastian had anticipated suspicion but he still wasn’t prepared for how much it would chafe. 

He knew if they were not at the centre of this farce, the two main players on the stage they would have jovially picked apart their performance too. She would have speculated over their sanity as she picked idly at her cauldron cake. Made some snide comment about being too eager to get his leg over. He’d bet her a galleon they’d see the proof in nine months and she would have snorted, undignified unladylike into her pumpkin juice. 

Being the subject of this speculation however was mortifying. 

Would that be next? Bringing a child into the fucking mess he’d made just to cover his own back? If the thought of dragging her into a marriage him feel ill it paled in comparison to the feeling of crippling dread that conjured. 

But would she want that one day? In a young witch's sacrifice to keep him had she truly considered all the things she was giving up in his stead. Things she may not know she even wanted until the opportunity had already been bartered and sold off for the price of his freedom. What kind of man was he to take the hope of any kind of family from someone who already had none to show for it? Take away the chance for someone to love her. 

Or maybe she never intended to give up on that particular dream. And Sebastian would be expected to play his part - the cuckolded husband. 

Work late until the candles burned down to the wick to give her lover time to retreat. Share her with one; or with many. 

Vow now to never let her go without. 

Even go as far as to raise her children as his own. Glamour their cheeks with foreign freckles he’d wish were inherited. Brand them with the Sallow name with ink on thin parchment but not their blood; their ties to him just as flimsy and performative as hers.

Her easy smile as she lathered honey onto her toast set his teeth on edge. Sebastian felt in that moment like he never really knew her at all. Head pounding Sebastian stuffed his ink pot and notes back into his bag. Abandoned his breakfast in a rush to get out of the stifling hall. Away from the whispers that he knew would also be deafening in her ears. Perhaps even more so.

‘I didn’t even know they were courting. It’s a shame he’s off the market.’

‘Here’s the thing - I don’t think they were. Clearly, he’s marrying her to do the right thing. Now that she’s trapped him with a baby.’

She caught his eye, her eyebrows stitched together in concern but it did not offset the rigid lock of her furious ticking jaw. Teeth set, clamped together as if Hecat had clamped a muzzle on a fucking dragon and then handed her chains to Sebastian. 

Shamefully, he couldn’t bring himself to hold her gaze. Couldn’t even bear to face her in that moment despite knowing he was the reason she had to listen to these lies spread. He should tell her he was sorry. But instead he fled. 

Complete fic can be found on Ao3.

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"