#his tumblr title really would be Welcome To My Dark Twisted Mind

[hojiteaversion]

I forgot how much of a BITCH he was

[theonethatyaks93]

Finally Talking About Dark Pinky (Day 7 of Pinky Week)

Guess who showed up finally!

Yep, you read that title correctly. No, this isn't some belated April Fool's Day prank. Happy Dark Pinky Thursday to all my fellow evil mice enjoyers and welcome to the final installment of Pinky Week!! This has completely gone off the rails and I apologize for the extensive delays and unkept promises; I was just so tired and I required a lot of breaks. So, to thank everyone who's been with me, I decided to make my last post for Pinky Week a tribute to the fans! Get ready, because things are going to get interesting.

4/6/23- Dark Pinky Discussion/Analysis: A popular fandom character, Dark Pinky is the character you go to if you're looking for the Animaniacs/Pinky and the Brain fandom's official Tumblr sexyman. Gaining popularity in 2020 due to Dark Pinky Thursdays popping up as a meme, the homicidal and delightfully malevolent mouse has made his presence very well known on a variety of sites. And yes, I definitely have fallen to all the art and fanfiction I've seen of him. He's a great character, has a lot of potential for fanfiction, and is delightfully evil with a dark, twisted sense of humor (at least that's what I've taken from him). He's a recent obsession of mine and I'm glad to finally admit that I really do like him. I'm also glad to be contributing to his every growing fanbase. This essay will trace Dark Pinky's history, how he became so popular, and what he brings to the overall Pinky and The Brain community. And yes, I'll be mentioning Future Brain a few times since that is part of the story.

Humble Origins (Pinky and The Brain Comic Issues #1 and #24):

You might be surprised to realize but originally, Dark Pinky was more of a comedic villain rather than an outright malicious one. In fact, his plans were often times very silly and his tendency to break into evil laughter was more funny than menacing. He'd make his grand debut in Issue #1 of the Pinky and The Brain comics, being the one who ruled the alternate superhero universe Pinky and Brain find themselves in. At first, he doesn't reveal himself, rather he uses Dark Brain as a cover-up. But from the moment he appears, we get a sense of how different he is when compared to the original Pinky. Dark Pinky wears purple armor with gloves and pretty awesome spikes on his shoulders; he also has a long purple cape. The tufts of fur on his head are more straight and less curled, he has fangs, and wears a metal headpiece that (I believe) allows him to read minds. He still retains the iconic verbal tics that Pinky has and he also does an evil laugh after nearly everything he says. His personality is similar to Pinky, but with a slightly more villainous side. He finds pleasure in creating dastardly plans, showing the power and control he has, and relinquishes in the suffering he brings to others. However, he remains excitable, gets distracted by inane things, and his plans are more comical when compared to how the fandom would shape him to be. Dark Pinky does plan on murdering both Pinky and Brain but is defeated after he reads Pinky's mind and finds "horrifying imagery." He eventually returns in Issue #24 where he ends up trying to take over via public broadcasting. He's now bent on revenge and has a group of minions (in hilarious purple costumes) at his behest. He even calls upon the help of Poison Billie (another semi-popular character from this universe), and the two look like they may succeed. Eventually, Brain and Pinky do manage to defeat Dark Pinky and Poison Billie once again, this time seemingly for good. Dark Pinky's plan in this issue is very ridiculous and isn't scary in the slightest. It's almost intriguing on how he started out as such a comical villain before a few people decided to make him a little more unique. Dark Pinky remains to this day a comic exclusive character, never appearing in any of the T.V shows or even getting a mention in the series. The comics have also been questioned for the canonicity due to a few factors. However, Dark Pinky wouldn't be forgotten for long. Things only get weirder from here.

Dark Pinky and the Tumblr Sexyman Trope:

Now we're getting to the point where we must discuss the fandom. But before we do that, let's talk about the thing that made him famous in the first place: the Tumblr Sexyman craze. In the early 2010's after the release of the film The Lorax, a group of adolescent girls became attached to the character of The Once-ler, but not for his personality, rather for his appearance. The trend started up on Tumblr and began to grow in popularity to massive degrees. And this fandom was weird to say the least. People shipped the Once-ler with himself or alternate versions of himself and he became known as the first official Tumblr sexyman. However, as the years passed, more and more characters were added to the collection of Tumblr sexymen. Most of them had a common theme: tall, white, baddie/emo, often seen in suits. Others such as Sans from Undertale were a little different but still contained a few typical tropes. To be considered a sexyman, a character needed to showcase at least one or two of these traits plus have a dedicated following with a lot of fanart and/or fanfiction. They also can be considered conventionally unattractive or non-human. After the introduction of the Tumblr sexyman, many fandoms tried their best to find a perfect match for the rising phenomenon. And luckily, the Animaniacs/PaTB fandom had their candidate. While Pinky Suavo also caught on very quickly and was more well-known for his episode, Dark Pinky seemed to be the most accurate to the previously established tropes, being tall, white, evil, wearing purple armor, having a mysterious past, and sporting a super cool design. The potential for him was rabid and he seemed to check off all the boxes perfectly. It did take a while for people to find him, considering the comics are so obscure, but eventually Dark Pinky would hit the fandom in a way previously not though of before. Nobody would realize the impact this character would have. Until it was too late.

Dark Pinky is a Sensation (And how the fandom changed him):

Art featured below is by the incredibly talented @wimsiecal And if you're perchance reading this, I just want to tell you that your art is amazing and you have made me obsessed with Dark Pinky to an unhealthy degree!!! :) Seriously please go follow them if you haven't already, I'm begging you!!

After the fandom discovered Dark Pinky from the depths of the comic book series, his popularity skyrocketed, especially after the 2020 fandom revival. He quickly became known as the Pinky and The Brain Tumblr sexyman and that hasn't changed since, though Pinky Suavo has joined him. Dark Pinky fanart, fanfiction, and various other forms of media became extremely sought after and many posts would get thousands upon thousands of views/likes. Despite never appearing in the series, fans of Dark Pinky's would often point out moments where Pinky acted like his evil counterpart, some even editing screenshots to have Pinky appear like him. However, since Dark Pinky only appeared in two comics, the fans naturally had to get creative with him. Many fans have completely changed his character, altering his appearance every so slightly, or expanding on his past and personality. Dark Pinky's fan design was only a tad bit different. He was given sharper edges, different outfits in various shades of purple and black, a more detailed helmet, and he even appeared without the whole getup. Dark Pinky's design without armor or the helmet was entirely made up by fans. Here, he has the same body as Pinky but with scars (including a super cool one over his eye), dark eye shadow, and black painted nails. Dark Pinky's personality was also altered, making him a legitimate threat and an actual evil villain. He kills, his grip on the world is ruthless, he treats his servants like crap, and he shows no mercy to anyone. His comical plots from the comics are no more as he's become kind of scary and menacing. You don't want to mess with him. Yes he does have a sense of humor, but it's often twisted or at the expense of others. Dark Pinky still on occasion does an evil laugh or has a verbal tic but it's usually when he's upset. Some fans have given him a soft side; some of which include his feminine urges remaining intact and that he has a fondness for cheese. But be careful. In a few variations from people in the community, Brain is mysteriously absent. Mentioning Brain to Dark Pinky in those universes will often cause him to go into an insane rage. These fun and interesting pieces that were added to Dark Pinky not only make him more interesting, but add to his status as a Tumblr sexyman. These changes aren't technically canon, but they're arguably better since they make Dark Pinky stand out. It is quite strange to see him change from a comical antagonist to a semi-serious villain worth being feared, but it was much appreciated.

Dark Pinky Gets a Love Interest and an AU (Dark Future Ship/Fan-made Universes):

For the longest time, Dark Pinky didn't have a love interest of any kind. Sure, if you wanted to be shunned you could ship him with Poison Billie (please don't), but Brinky was the name of the game. The ship between Pinky and Brain was, and still is, incredibly popular among fans, after it gained popularity in the late 2000's and early 2010's. And of course when Dark Pinky got popular, he needed someone to be paired with. For a while, he would be shipped with just regular Brain or a fan-made evil version of Brain if creativity was present. Luckily, the fans finally got their perfect match when the Animaniacs reboot came out. In episode 9, the character of Future Brain was created and fans immediately compared him to Dark Pinky. Their color schemes were similar with both mice being seen in purple. Future Brain had a scar, robotic hand, and half of his face was robotic, all of which fit into Dark Pinky's universe very well. The hints that Future Brain was betrayed by Pinky also had many theorizing that he came from a future ruled by Dark Pinky, connecting the two together even more. It wasn't long before Future Brain and Dark Pinky ship fanart and fanfiction began popping up everywhere. Since the duo had very similar esthetics, they could be drawn together easily. The story potential was also very high as well. Dark Pinky and Future Brain dominated (pun intended) the fanbase and soon became seen as an alternate ship to Brinky. But while Brinky was healthy and cute, Dark Future (Often called the official ship name) was toxic and awkward. Some people portrayed them as an evil couple ruling the world together, while others painted their relationship in a negative light, where Dark Pinky was abusive and manipulative. It depended solely on what person was developing the story. Future Brain was also added to the quickly developing Dark Pinky alternate universe which has been shown via the extremely popular ask blog askdarkpinky. Featuring beautiful fanart and a darkly humorous tone, this blog is a must-view for any Dark Pinky fan. It created an expansive universe with lore, locations, and alternate versions of popular characters. Snowball remains consistent in the flashback sequences, aligning with his canon character exactly. Billie retains a majority of elements from Poison Billie minus the orange hair, including the plant themed outfit. Julia has a new look with a lab coat and goggles. She's works for Dark Pinky, making all of his technology. Brain is noticeably absent from this universe, with only hints to his possible location. It's also implied that this is in fact Future Brain and that he might be doing something. Dark Pinky goes crazy when Brain is brought up and refuses to hear anything about him. This drama and conflict is so interesting. The creation of this ship and various alternate universes only increased Dark Pinky's popularity and now, he stands as a cornerstone of the Pinky and The Brain fanbase.

Conclusion: Though Pinky himself is a beloved character, Dark Pinky stands on his own as a fandom favorite. From his design to his personality and potential, he fits the Tumblr sexyman ideology to near perfection. The fans have shaped this character and have made him stand apart from the rest. Sure, he's evil and doesn't treat things with care, but he's a good character. It's really spectacular that people in the community were able to turn Dark Pinky from a villain that existed mainly for comedy to a threatening presence with an un-hinged mindset. The fans are truly to thank for bringing Dark Pinky into greatness and there's hope that he can remain relevant and continue to entertain people (and make people question their sanity/sexuality) for a few more years to come.

OMG!! Pinky Week is finally done!! Woo hoo!! I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me for this long period of time. You have been the thing that's kept me making these. I'll be taking a small break for the next few days and then Brain Week will begin! I can assure you guys that Brain Week will not take as long and will be better planned out. I can't wait to begin! Anyways, that's it for Pinky Week! Thank you for reading and have a great day/night! Happy (possibly belated) Dark Pinky Thursday to everyone!! Narf!

[cakesunflower]

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 1

A/N: the title is STUPID long. like a whole ass mouthful. but it is what it is. before y’all dive in, i just wanna say that this fic would NOT be possible without @bigheadbabybitch (it’s not letting me tag her bc tumblr is a whore) but god DAMN without her, this fic would not be what it is. every scene is planned with her and made better with her. i’m very lucky to be working with this on her.

Josie’s Face Claim here!

so, without further ado, here’s part 1 of my new brother’s best friend!Cal fic!!

She never experienced feeling the weight of someone’s eyes on her until this moment.

It wasn’t like Josie didn’t want to return his gaze—she just couldn’t, not if she wanted to freeze where she stood. She could feel his intense gaze on her the moment he had walked into her older brother’s house. What she had expected to be a celebration turned into an internal prison as she found herself contemplating what exactly he was thinking about. The way he had been looking at her. . . She didn’t think either of them knew just how much power he held over her. So Josie pretended to be oblivious, acted as though his stare wasn’t burning right through her skin as she talked to friends of her brother’s she was only vaguely familiar with. She had a good excuse, too; after all, Luke had thrown this party to welcome her to California, had been a good older—by three years—brother and opened his home to her so she had a place to stay right after graduating college while looking for one of her own. And nothing said welcome like a good house party. At least, according to Luke Hemmings, anyway.

A soft smile played on her lips as she nursed her drink, thinking of her brother’s welcoming arms. The warm welcome she received was one that calmed her nerves, at first feeling like she was intruding when she moved into Luke’s home, despite his encouragement. Her brother wanted her to move in with him, and yet there was still a small part of Josie that had felt as though she was encroaching on his space. But it came with the territory of being labeled as the little sister among the inseparable group of her brother and his best friends, always feeling as though she was pushing herself into their friend group, even if her company was welcomed.

Eventually, she finished her drink and was in need of more, excusing herself from the group she was chatting with before making her way to the kitchen. Luke’s house was one she loved, proud of her brother for doing so well for himself, starting off as an accountant by using the math skills their mom instilled in them before rising to the top. High ceilings and lots of windows with a view of the trees and hills of the Valley, and an open space that was so much better than the cramped dorm room she’d been living in for too long. Her brother’s spacious home was definitely an upgrade. Josie knew she’d enjoy living in a space where she wouldn’t have to stack her belongings on top of one another, now having room to spread out comfortably.

Too busy admiring her new—albeit temporary—home and pouring herself another drink, Josie had become unaware of who she’d moved towards until the familiar voice spoke up nonchalantly, “You look like you’re fittin’ right in.”

Josie put down the bottle of Coke, biting the inside of her lower lip as she raised her head to finally meet the gaze she had been avoiding. His voice was unmistakable, eyes sharp as always as she schooled her expression into one of ease right when she looked at him. She went from chewing on her lower lip to biting the tip of her tongue to focus on the sting rather than the quickening of her heart. Her skin felt warm, frustration flushing her for not being able to slow her heart rate. Still, Josie offered a smile, the perfect combination of friendly and smug even if the latter felt incredibly made up. “’Course—it helps that I’m really likable.”

Calum sucked in his teeth, giving a brief, semi-accepting tilt of his head. One hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket, he was gave her a once over before responding, “Depends on who you ask.” His words were followed by a sip of his beer, but Josie could make out the smirking curl of his lips from around the mouth of the bottle.

Despite the bass of the music thrumming deep in her chest, and the nerves she wished would subside because it was ridiculous to even feel so, Josie offered a smile and rested her hip against the counter she was near. She faced him as he stood a few feet away, left arm braced on the counter as the chain bracelet glimmered against the hanging light above the center counter. He looked good, Josie wasn’t afraid to admit that. To herself, anyway.

With a single shouldered shrug, Josie smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow at Calum. “I’m asking you.” A risk, those words falling past her lips, but she couldn’t take them back. Nor the implication behind them. But Josie was trying to learn not to be regretful of things, standing by decisions she made. 

There was a subtle shift in his features, lips parting to lick his lower lip. Calum looked almost impressed, if not a bit startled, at Josie’s words, and she didn’t quite blame him. She watched something flash in his dark eyes, eyebrows lowering as a bit of a warning, silently telling her she was wandering into territory she shouldn’t be. Not that she had to be told that. The hitch in her throat was a sign enough.

Before Calum could respond, however, a sudden weight of an arm settled around Josie’s shoulders, a soft yet startled gasp escaping her as her six-foot-four brother playfully hung off her shorter frame. “Do you love your party or what?”

Josie tore her gaze away from the dark haired man across from her to grin up at her brother, whom she could tell was already well on his way to getting drunk. His cheeks were flushed, pushed up to show off his dimpled grin, eyes glazing over. A chuckle equal parts forced and amused escaped Josie, his presence tightening the knots in her stomach, as she wrapped her free arm around his waist. “Of course,” she answered. “I’m feeling all the love.”

Luke grinned, clearly satisfied with her answer. “Good,” he declared, wrapping his other arm around her as well, keeping her close. Josie could feel Calum’s eyes on them but she didn’t look back at him, letting her brother hug her as he continued, “You were too far away at Davis. ’m glad you’re here now.”

His words widened Josie’s smile, a happy warmth flushing her skin. Despite sometimes inserting herself in Luke’s friend group when they were kids, her brother never made her feel as though she was just tagging along or that she wasn’t welcomed to join. Being so close in age, Luke was Josie’s first best friend—honestly, he had a higher friendship role than any best friend she’s had—and she was easily closer to him than she was to her other two older brothers, Jack and Ben. Don’t get it wrong, Josie loved all of her brothers. But if she had to pick a favorite, it would be Luke.

Which was why Calum’s gaze on them felt so heavy, like it was weighing her down, slowly squeezing the air out of her lungs. Luke’s hug felt warm for all of the wrong reasons as Calum watched them, and Josie forced herself to look up, for her blue eyed gaze to meet his brown. His stare was intense as ever, looking right through her, and despite the neutrality of his features, Josie picked up on the look in his eye. She saw the reluctance that swam in them, a hint of panic he was doing a good job in hiding from those who wouldn’t expect to see it there. But Josie knew; she knew to look for it, knew it was probably present because she could feel it knotting her insides, too.

It was a kind of emptiness in her chest that allowed for the bass of the music playing in the house to settle too deeply, wondering if Calum felt it too as he tore his gaze away from them and took a long sip of his drink. Did he feel guilt, too? 

She hoped he didn’t regret it because she sure as hell didn’t. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t any room for the guilt to take up residence. Not when her brother was holding her so tightly, so happily, rambling on about how excited he was for her to be living with him. Oblivious to the tension his presence only intensified between his best friend and sister.

“It’ll be just like old times, right, Cal?” Luke’s voice pulled Josie out of her thoughts, swallowing the lump in her throat as Calum looked at them once more. The song playing through the speakers changed to an unfamiliar R&B type that Josie thought was more Calum’s style than her brother’s. 

A wry expression briefly twisted Calum’s features, a subtle quirk of his eyebrows and purse of his lips as his eyes met hers quickly. A silent scoff of yeah, right being spoken by him just through his features to her as Josie bit the inside of her cheek, her smile disappearing.

“Yeah,” Calum responded, his voice sounding too deep, heavy with the thoughts swirling in his head. Josie figured she had an idea what was running through his mind. He took another sip of his drink, brown eyes on blue, her own gaze following the way his tongue swiped across his lower lip, hating that she couldn’t pull her gaze away. All too aware that he was watching her track his movements, a hardship she would have to learn to get past. His eyes never left hers as he raised his cup, a silent cheers, as he repeated, “Just like old times.”

*****

The sun was bright. Then again, this was California, and the sun was always bright. Especially as June began and the sun remained high and relentless. It felt warm against Calum’s skin, which he’d eventually cool down by taking advantage of the tempting pool in front of him. And he wanted to jump in already, except he remained planted on the poolside chair, refusing to submerge himself in the cold water because of the woman already enjoying it. So he stayed put, feeling the heat burn his legs and the thin layer of sweat that clung to his skin, depriving himself of the welcoming water because he needed to keep his distance.

Music was playing through Luke’s backyard, but Calum couldn’t tell what song was playing, attention muffled by his focus being on Josie. Or, specifically, it was on trying not to be on the woman. Sipping his beer, Calum blinked behind his sunglasses, trying to anchor himself to the conversation happening around him by trying to get a grasp on reality. It was just him, the boys, and Josie—how it used to be at times when they were younger. Except there was nothing adolescent in the way his gaze lingered on Josie from behind the shades of his glasses. Yet he tried to listen to the song, foot tapping as his mind slowly picked up on the beat. Anything to try and get a solid grasp on his surroundings to pull out of his jumbled thoughts.

“The salon’s nice, then?” Ashton questioned, popped up from the middle of a hideous duck float, arms crossed on top as he looked at Josie.

She was laying on her stomach on a pool float, legs kicked up and ankles crossed. “So nice,” she answered with an appreciative groan. Calum took a breath, sipping his beer again as the sound rang in his ears. “Really fucking fancy, and everyone’s so nice. And the same company owns the nail salon next door so we get discounts.” With a wide grin, she added, “Pretty nails twenty-four-seven.”

She emphasized this point by lifting one hand and wiggling her fingers to show off already painted and long nails. Calum’s eyes followed the movement from where he sat, and the sun burned his skin. He straightened his posture, trying to rid of the all too familiar stinging sensation that dragged down his back. His muscles twitched, taking a breath as he tried to rid of the feeling, the reminder of a memory that was still fresh in his mind despite the months that passed.

Calum smacked his lips after forcing down the sip of beer, looking down at the bottle he held in mild distaste. Suddenly, he felt as though he needed a drink far stronger than this. Something to wipe the images lighting up his mind. 

Michael walked out from the house, flip flops echoing on the concrete, signaling his presence as he walked down the few steps from the back door to the pool area. He settled down on the chair next to Calum. “A friend of Crystal’s booked a couple of tables for tomorrow night at the new club that opened up in West Hollywood.” His green eyes looked at the four people he was with. “You guys down to go?”

Luke waded into the water behind Josie, and Calum watched with a quirk of his eyebrows, noting the way his best friend was making it a point to be particularly quiet in his silent approach towards Josie as Ashton answered, “Yeah; I’ve got a business dinner so I’ll meet you guys there.” He munched on some chips. “Just send me the details.”

Michael nodded, looking between Calum at his right and Josie in the pool in front of them. “What about you guys?”

“Sure,” came both of their responses, Josie’s excited while Calum’s more subdued. His gaze wandered back to Josie and he didn’t miss the way her smile kind of froze on her face, rolling her lower lip into her mouth before breaking their gaze. She couldn’t seem to hold their gaze for too long, as opposed to him, who couldn’t stop looking at her, enough to notice the way her eyes dulled when she heard his hesitated answer. Look at me. The words echoed in his mind, wanting her to hear them. Look. At. Me. Why he wanted her to look at him, he had no idea. All he could think about when their eyes connected, even for a few seconds, were the overwhelming memories he had shoved into a box in his mind. But the more he looked at her, the more prominent the images in his mind became.

Calum hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation that followed, looking out to the five foot brick wall that surrounded the perimeter of Luke’s yard. The sky was clear of clouds that made the heat of the sun all the more relentless, only adding heat to the tightness of his muscles. His attention was drawn back to the scene in front of him by the sound of Josie’s scream, eyebrows raising as he watched Luke, from underwater, pushed the float Josie was on to flip it, sending his sister splashing into the water as the sight of her flailing limbs erupted laughter from everyone else.

An amused grin tilted at Calum’s lips, his own laughter mixing in with those of the boys as Josie finally surfaced with a gasp. And suddenly the laughter from Calum ceased, watching as she rose up with her head tilted back, her slender neck drawing his gaze. For a moment, he could picture it. All of it. The droplets of water covering her skin glimmered under the sun, the blue bikini she wore attracting Calum’s attention more than he’d admit, biting his tongue as Josie turned her back to him to splash at Luke in retaliation.

Calum excused himself then, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom as he headed inside the house, the sliding door at the back of the house opening right into the kitchen as he walked through to get to the downstairs bathroom in the hall. Calum found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed, hoping it was from the sun. His eyebrows lowered into a frown as he looked at his reflection, annoyance with himself spiking.

Get it together. It was all that he could say to himself as he exhaled slowly. He felt like a teenage boy, the sight of Josie in the pool stirring something in the pit of his stomach that had him sucking in a breath. What could he do? The sight had been all too familiar. 

Calum gave a shake of his head. Nope. He couldn’t do this.

He exited the bathroom, shaking his hands as if he was trying to get rid of the thoughts that clung to him, walking towards the kitchen. The sound of someone messing around in there caught his attention, distinct in the rattling of bottles, and Calum stopped when he caught sight of Josie shutting the fridge. A Mike’s Hard Lemonade was in her hand as her eyes locked on his, the fall of her sun-flushed face an obvious tell of her discomfort of being caught alone with him.

Calum could vaguely hear the boys still outside, but he was all too focused on Josie; her wet blonde hair hung around her shoulders, and he fought to keep his eyes from wandering any lower than her eyes. He didn’t want to observe the blue bikini top that complimented her eyes, grateful for the little reprieve he had with her tying a towel around her hips. Just a little reprieve. He bit the tip of his tongue, scolding himself for so easily losing his train of thought in her presence, knowing now was not the time to allow himself to fall into a silent stupor.

Licking his lips, Calum looked towards the glass door that led out back, briefly watching his friends talk amongst themselves. Their conversation was drowned out by the music playing, and Calum exhaled, not looking back at Josie as he said, “You could’ve given me a warning, you know.”

He heard the bewilderment in her voice. “A warning?” she repeated. “For what?”

“That you were movin’ here.” Calum turned his head to look at her, taking in the frown furrowing her eyebrows and tilting her lips downwards. His throat worked, keeping his eyes on her as an attempt to keep himself from watching a lone bead of water run down the column of her throat and race towards the valley of her breasts. Conjuring up the nostalgic image of her in the flannels she used to wear was proving to be difficult, his attempt of distracting himself failing. “Would’ve liked a heads up.”

Josie gaped at him, and maybe Calum wasn’t being fair to her. She didn’t really owe him anything, he knew that. But from the moment Luke had dropped the bombshell that Josie was moving in with him—the day she was driving down from Davis—Calum had found himself in a state of panic he wasn’t familiar with. One that made his stomach feel hollow and chest tighten when he thought about seeing her practically every day. 

“A heads up?” Josie scoffed, clearly finding Calum’s words as ridiculous as he felt saying them. With a tilt of her head, she raised an eyebrow and challenged, “Even if I did, what would you have done? High tailed it out of L.A.?”

Calum huffed, arms crossing over his chest, picking up on her gaze drifting to his arms briefly. He would’ve smirked if he wasn’t for the conversation at hand. His lips twisted to the side before he responded, “I would’ve at least been a bit prepared.”

“You think I was prepared?” Josie retorted, eyebrows shooting up as she stared him down. She took a step towards him, her own gaze drifting towards the back door before looking back at him. “Moving to L.A. was a last minute decision. You’re not the only one who can’t look Luke in the eye.”

He licked his lower lip, finger tapping against his bicep as he shook his head, anxiety ridden thoughts running rampant in his head. He wasn’t used to feeling so. . . Frustrated. Panicked. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling as if he was trapped in a corner with no way out. “Pretty sure I have more to lose than you.”

That had been the wrong thing to say; Calum knew it as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He watched the way Josie’s eyebrows shot up and lips parted. She stared at him in disbelief, incredulous that he would try to knock down what was at stake for her in this situation by trying to emphasize his own. It was a dick move, he knew, and he was sorry for it. “Fuck you, Calum,” she frowned, her voice resigned. He hated that he could see her disappointment and hurt more than the anger. He swallowed inaudibly at the thought of bringing that look on her face; one that settled a solemnity in her features against him. “We both screwed Luke over,” she added, making her way around the center counter, taking the longer way around to avoid walking past him as she headed towards the door.

Calum’s jaw set, wanting to apologize as he watched her go, feeling badly for making it seem like his guilt was stronger than hers. Josie stopped then, right before reaching the door, and looked at him over her shoulder. The hurt was still in her eyes, and she spoke with an edge creeping into her voice. “But if you take into consideration who’s more likely to get punched if Luke were to ever find out. . .” Her blue eyes gave him a once over, expression looking almost too empty for Calum’s liking until her gaze met hers. She smiled humorlessly then, wanting to fire back to mask the hurt his words had caused her by being spiteful in hers as she finished off, “Then yeah; you’ve got more to lose.”

And then with a roll of her eyes, she turned back and slid the door open, the music clear for the brief moment the door was open until she slid it shut. Calum rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, shaking his head as he released yet another slow, long breath, finally in tune with the racing of his heart he had failed to notice earlier. So fucking screwed.

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @softforcal​ @highfivecalum​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @calistheloml @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @wildflowergrae​

[wendimydarling]

Revenge

Title: Revenge

Summary: Walter gets revenge on his wife.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x First Person Reader 

Word Count: 1918 

Warnings: Nuthin’ but floof here! Oh, and some female nudity.

A/N: This story was inspired by drunk Tumblr! and the conversation between me, @hell1129-blog​, @yoursecretsmutblog​, and @ly--canthrope​ in the comments of this post here. Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter closed the door to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweater over his head. The day had been long and arduous, as most of his days were. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his girl. Who seemingly is nowhere to be found, he thought as he glanced around.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” he heard her reply. It sounded like it came from the bedroom. Walter traipsed down the hall and was met with the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

There she was, his siren wife, lying naked on their bed, her body on display for him. Her soft curves never ceased to arouse him; her beauty stealing his breath away, the matted shine of her olive skin hypnotizing him. But it wasn’t just her alluring glow that made him tremble. It was the fact that she had cuffed herself to the headboard and she was grinning at him profusely, already rubbing her legs against each other in anticipation.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” she explained, biting her lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Walter’s turn to smile. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He stripped off his remaining shirt and straddled his tiny wife.

~~~~~~~~

I’ve had such a bad day. I can’t wait to get home to you.

The text message had seared my heart. I swore to myself I’d make his day better somehow, so when I found his handcuffs while going through the laundry, an idea immediately came to mind. I hurried quickly through the chore and headed to the bedroom to get ready. Walter would be home soon.

Once I was satisfied with my hair and touched up my makeup, I made my way to the bed, hurriedly slipping out of my work clothes. I laid down and hooked one wrist with the cuffs, relishing the way the cold metal felt against my flushed skin. We’d used them before, and I would never tire of the solid, relaxing sensation that flooded my body the moment I was restrained. My lady bits were already dripping, and Walter wasn’t even home yet.

Or maybe he was. I heard his boots thud outside the front door so I hastily put my arms above my head and connected the other wrist in the cuffs, trapping myself. I didn’t have a key; the only way out now was Walter. I slunk down a little so that I was nice and stretched, feeling grounded and excited for what was in store.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” I called out to him, unable to keep myself from grinning as I pictured his reaction. I wasn’t disappointed; the look on his face as his jaw dropped three inches was worth everything. My pussy throbbed at how dark his eyes grew, and I pressed my legs together, fending her off.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” I teased, biting my lip as I watched my husband swallow thickly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.”

Walter smiled slowly and I shivered as he took off his shirt, allowing me to see every muscle in that thick chest of his as he came over to the bed and climbed on top of my small frame. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under my back before pressing his weight on my thighs and I was at once unable to move, my entire upper body deliciously arched and at his mercy. 

He leaned onto his elbows, his face hovering over me as his fingers brushed over my breasts. I squirmed a little, the light touch tickling softly. His smirk had taken on an evil hue and I gulped, suddenly uncertain about my life choices this evening.

“Do you remember,” He started, tracing circles around my nipples, “The surprise party you threw me for my birthday?”

Oh shit.

I tugged on the handcuffs at once, but I couldn’t move an inch. I looked into my husband’s eyes, pleading with him.

“Walter no, no no no this is not what I had in mind, don’t do this!”

“Do you remember the slideshow?” he asked, his fingers traveling up to my armpits, hovering over the exposed skin. 

“Walter pleeeease!”

“Do you remember how I said you’d pay for it?”

All I could do was whimper, squirming ineffectively underneath his large frame. 

“Welcome to my revenge, Sweetheart… thank you so much for offering it to me.”

“No Walter--fuck!!!” I squealed as his fingers started to dance over my sensitive hollows. He knows that it’s my worst place and Detective Marshall is a methodical man; he took care to tickle every exposed nerve beneath my arms. I laughed loudly, my inability to protect myself only further heightening the sensation as he tortured me freely.

I watched him through my laughter; his face was covered in joy, and I realized he was truly enjoying this. Whatever bad things had happened today, my suffering was erasing them from his mind. I figured I could take being tickled for a while, if only to see that happiness never leave my husband. 

Then again, maybe not. He switched from spidering to poking and I screamed, arching my back even further into the tickles. That seemed like the opposite of how I should have been responding, but my body was reacting of its own accord at this point.

“WALTER PLEASE!!! No mooohohore!!!”

He just shook his head, chuckling at my feeble attempt to beg. 

“You really think, after you embarrassed me with all those childhood photos, that I’m going to let you go after only five minutes? No my love, get comfortable. I’m going to tickle you all night.”

“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, the fingers switching tactics again. This time he was digging, and I was barely able to catch a breath before another long batch of laughter ripped through me. Walter sat up, and I knew what was coming next. I squirmed helplessly as the rest of my naked torso was exposed to his nimble fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned futilely. 

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he quipped, running those stupidly talented fingers up and down my sides. I kicked my legs futilely, or at least I tried to. I was unable to protect a single inch of my sensitive skin as ticklish sensations swarmed my body. Walter was laughing with me, egged on by my cries for him to stop. 

He finally settled on my ribs and my laughter hit a new peak as he began to vibrate his fingertips against each one. Digging in with fervor, my husband set out to discover every new place within my bones that would cause the loudest response. 

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second Walter paused, spreading his large hands across my entire abdomen. I gasped for air, staring at his stupid grin as I pleaded with him for mercy.

“No more Walter, please… I can’t take it, I’m gonna die!”

“It’s just a little tickling,” he chided, grazing his fingertips over my belly to keep me tense. “So long as I let you breathe you won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“Walteeeeeheher…” My moan turned into a chuckle as his fingers started to pick up the pace, spidering softly all over the sensitive flesh of my torso. I clacked the cuffs hard against the headboard, the only movement I was capable of to express my frustration. Walter just laughed and attacked my sides once more, causing me to scream anew. 

“Shhhh,” he warned me, “You’re going to make the neighbors think I’m murdering you.” 

“YOU ARE!!!!” I shot back, twisting the little I could to evade his attack. I lost that battle in less than a second, and my screams grew louder as he dipped a finger into my belly button. He clapped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I saw an idea spring to life on his face as I laughed into his hand, and I watched in horror as he slowly lowered his head. 

I tried to bite him, tried to shake him off, but nothing I did could stop his descent toward my torso. Walter’s lips hovered an inch from my navel and he looked up at me as I glared at him, those icy blue eyes boring wickedly into my soul as he dramatically took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the hell that was about to ensue. 

Walter blew a raspberry straight into my core and suddenly the world ceased to exist. The only thing that existed was tickles. He blew raspberry after raspberry all over my sensitive belly, scrubbing his beard against my skin each time he took a breath. His hands returned to scrabbling rapidly over my armpits and I absolutely howled, tears rolling down my face as I could to do nothing but lay there and take it. 

“I’M SORRY!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!” I screamed, face flushed red and desperate. Walter stopped tickling again and returned to his position of lying on top of me, his fingertips walking slowly up and down my armpits. It kept me giggling, but it was bearable.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For embarrassing you at the pa-HAR-ty,” I exclaimed.

“Good. Now admit you like this.”

“What the fuck, no I don’t!”

Walter just smiled knowingly.

“I could smell it halfway through, love… you’re soaked. Admit it, you got turned on by a little tickling.”

I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I gave him an excuse to do this again. Walter sighed.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling until you see reason.”

He started wiggling his fingers again and I gave in at once.

“NO NO NO OKAY! I’ll admit it I--” I swallowed thickly, sighing in defeat. “--I liked being tickled.”

“Well if you like it, I guess that’s no reason for me to stop,” Walter mused, reinstating his assault under my arms. I squealed.

“Oh god, Walter PLEASE STOP!” I begged, my lungs burning with the effort to breathe. He ran his hands up my arms, squeezing them gently as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, all at once ravenous to be taken. His lips found their way to my neck and I gasped, desire searing its way into my loins. I pulled at the cuffs, wanting to touch my husband and frustrated beyond words that I couldn’t. It seemed so unfair, seeing as though his hands were roaming my body freely. 

“Walter,” I groaned, writhing underneath his touch. “Please uncuff me.”

“No,” he mumbled against my collarbone, slipping his fingers into the slick between my legs.

“I intend to fuck you, just like this. And when I’m done,” Walter looked into my eyes with the most serious expression I’d ever seen, except for a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that made me shiver, and not in a good way. I knew that look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear the worst words I had ever heard in my life.

“When I’m done, I’m going to tickle you. All. Over. Again.”

I vowed then and there to hide any and all handcuffs that ever made their way into our apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fan Club: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​ @fucking-hell-cavill​ @brexrif​ @peakygroupie​ @viking-raider​ @constip8merm8​ @daniig95​ @elinalfrida​ @hell1129-blog​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @agniavateira​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @sofiebstar​ @wanderinglunarnights​ @mary-ann84​ @nuns-and-roses​ @luclittlepond​ @thekingstachemademedoit​ @iloveyouyen​ @lestersglitterglue​ @funnygirlthatgab​ @wondersofdreaming​ @yoursecretsmutblog​ @valkavill​ @kevia1000 @trippedmetaldetector​ @lifeofrileyp​ @captaingothgirl1996​ @sasusakubae​ @princess-of-riviaa​ @vivodinson​ @paradisecitychild​ @stuckupstucky​ @speakerforthedead0-blog​

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 13: Change

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3800

Rating: PG-13 (language only)

Summary: About three weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Drake shifted on the bed, running his thumb over the dry cracked skin on the back of his hand, listening as he heard the water running in the little bathroom shut off yet again. She'd been in there for hours. And he didn't like it at all. 

He wanted to fight her on this. Her being the one to meet up with Leo to get their belongings - and hopefully some money - seemed like such a massive risk. She was the one the press loved. She was the one that would be recognized. Not him. He had always been able to blend into the background.

Except… Leo being seen with a pretty woman was not at all unusual. And Drake and Leo were more likely to be considered friends, so people would be expecting Drake to be the one to meet up with Leo. Riley made more sense for this particular task. But that didn't mean Drake had to like it.

The thing he didn't like most was that Riley clearly knew what she was getting into. The other night when he'd gotten back tired and sore and reeking of olive oil, his hands so raw they were practically bleeding, she'd been waiting up for him, hellbent on persuading him to let her do this. And of course, she listed a bunch of reasons that made sense as she dug some lotion out of her bag, laying out her arguments as she tried to tend to his hands. She'd even suggested dyeing her hair to help disguise her appearance, hence her spending the entire afternoon in the bathroom today.

But Drake still didn't like it. He'd tried to convince her to let him take care of it all, but eventually she dropped the line that told him Riley knew exactly what she was agreeing to do. What risks she was undertaking.

"She needs you more than she needs me." 

Her words were so bleak and haunting. It was clear she had seriously considered the fact that she might get arrested. And that scared the crap out of him. He had always been the pessimist out of the two of them. Not her. She bounced back and adapted and just kept going, sure that the future would be better. And sure, she whined and complained about things to him, but she always had hope. So for her to be talking about a potential arrest? Fuck, that really said it all.

He hadn't known what to say in response to that when she'd first said it. Why would she think that she was the expendable one here? She'd explained it, of course, focusing on how Drake could speak Greek, how he was the one earning any money. But he just couldn't see it that way. Riley was tougher than anyone he knew. Any little pittance of tasks he was taking care of, he was sure she would have found a way to handle it if she'd had to. After all, she had initially been planning to do it all on her own. She had taken care of herself back in New York since she was a teenager. She would be able to do it again, Drake was sure.

But she was convinced, both that she was the right one for the job and that Drake was better for their daughter. And if his wife was one thing, it was stubborn. She never gave up on anything once she dug her heels in and made up her mind. So she was dyeing her hair and meeting up with Leo tomorrow, and that was that. Drake hadn’t thought his stress levels could climb any higher than they’d been the past couple of weeks, but the thought of her taking this risk made him want to throw up.

He glanced over at Bridget, napping peacefully at the head of the bed. He wondered how much of what was going on she was able to process. Not that she would know what was happening, but did she miss her dogs or her Aunt Hana? Did she think it was weird that she didn’t have her own room or crib, but instead just shared a bed with them? Did she even notice that she hadn’t been home in weeks?

Bridget wasn't the only one he was worried about how they were coping and handling everything. He hadn't heard from Liam since that one phone call almost three weeks ago, either publicly or personally. He'd scoured all the news sites for coverage of the ball welcoming Hana as the Duchess of Valtoria, but all he'd been able to find was that Liam attended the event. He didn't appear to have answered any questions from the press, and he certainly hadn't issued a formal statement. 

He just wanted one sign, one thing he could point to that would show that Liam was doing okay. Or at least as okay as circumstances would allow. Something that would ease at least a little of the guilt that had moved into his gut. But Liam was staying out of the spotlight, and Drake couldn't help but think that was a bad sign.

He contemplated calling Liam almost every day, but he always stopped himself. Their last conversation still stuck with him. Sometimes he just felt terrible, thinking about the way he handled things, how he couldn’t just let Liam vent on the day he lost his title. Other times, he got pissed, remembering how dismissive Liam was over the stresses they were facing, for the way he showed no sympathy for the fact that the same no-confidence vote that stripped him of his job aimed to take away their kid. Usually, it was a muddled combination of the two that Drake didn’t really know how to handle. So he just didn’t. Liam had made it pretty clear he was done with them anyway.

Over the past couple of weeks, he’d wracked his brain, trying to figure out if there was a way he could have handled everything better. Some way that kept Bridget and Riley safe that didn’t complicate things for Liam. He always came up empty. It was the only thing that kept him going, the knowledge that there wasn’t some magical choice he could have made that would have allowed him to be there for everyone he cared about. This was always going to suck. There was no way to prevent that.

The creak of the bathroom door jolted him out of his own head. He twisted around to look at Riley as she emerged, blinking a couple of times as he took it all in. She was… not blonde exactly. She had told him she didn’t think she’d be able to bleach her hair that light, but it was close. He supposed her hair was a very, very light brown at this point. It was jarring. She didn’t look bad or anything, but even knowing she was going to be dyeing her hair, it still kind of caught him off guard, seeing her like that.

“So am I recognizable as a disgraced former duchess?” she quipped, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

Drake couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just shook his head. It was just hard to process that she could walk into the bathroom looking like his wife and walk out so different. His brain was scrambling to try and keep up.

Something about his reaction must have bothered her, because she frowned. “What is it, Drake?”

He just shook his head again. “It’s nothing, Walker.” He knew it was nothing. It was just some hair dye. But she just looked different without her crazy dark hair. And as Riley so often pointed out, he didn’t do great with change.

Riley smiled gently at him, walking over and sitting down on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “I take it you prefer dark hair,” she said, threading her fingers through the hair along the nape of his neck. 

He paused at that. She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t really it. “It’s just… one more change, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, stop with the sweet talk or else I'll blush,” she said, her fingers continuing to weave through his hair as she gave him a little smirk that made it clear she was teasing him.

“You know what I mean, Walker,” he said, rolling his eyes as his hands settled on her hips.

“I do. In fact, I’m still deciding how I feel about this,” she said, pulling one hand forward and running it along his jaw.

"My beard?"

She nodded. "I actually never dated someone who wasn't clean-shaven."

Well, that was interesting information to file away for later. "And what's the verdict?"

She leaned back and let her eyes really trace over his face with so much intensity, Drake felt his cheeks growing warm. "Undecided still," she finally settled on, inching back towards him with a nod.

"Come on, you have an opinion on everything. You can tell me if you hate it."

"I don't hate it, Drake. It kind of suits you. It's just… well, the reason you grew it just kind of hangs over everything, you know?"

"Riley…"

She just gave her head a little shake before sliding her hand back around his neck, tugging herself closer to him and tucking her face against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tighter around her back, feeling her let out a sigh. He wished he knew what he could do or say to make things better. But the sad truth was that nothing could make this better right now.

"I'm so sorry, Drake," she muttered against his neck.

"For what?" 

"For… I don't know. I just feel like I should be sorry… about all of it, I guess." She kept her face tucked against his skin, her voice somewhat muffled. It was a sure sign she felt uncomfortable, so Drake just hugged her tighter, dropping his head to rest on top of hers.

After several moments, Riley shifted on his lap, so Drake loosened his hold on her, allowing her to lean back and look him in the eye.

"You don't have to do this, Riley. You don't have to meet with Leo. I can go."

But Riley shook her head. "No, it should be me." Her voice was quieter than usual, but there was something in her eyes that told him not to push her on it. She was scared, but she was sure. So he just nodded, running a hand through her now much-lighter hair.

"I'm not going to go into the restaurant tonight, okay?"

She frowned at that. "Drake, I-"

"-I'm gonna lose that job anyway tomorrow night when I don't show up. My boss made that clear. I just…” Drake trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to vocalize his fear that Riley might not come back from her meet up with Leo tomorrow night. Sure, he knew he was risking arrest every time he went to go work at that shitty restaurant, but realistically, no one was looking for a former duke in the back of the kitchen of a tourist trap, hands submerged in soapy water, scrubbing dish after dish. 

Leo attracted attention, and his presence in the country where known fugitives were hiding was bound to be seen as at least a little suspicious. It was very probable that Leo’s movements in Greece were going to be closely monitored by not only Cordonia’s intelligence agents, but Monterisso’s as well, if Amalas’s earlier interest in their whereabouts was any indication. And that didn’t even touch on the possibility that this could be a set up of some sort. Drake didn’t think it was. Leo hated the monarchy with a burning passion, and Olivia had been solid in trying to help them in little ways from the start of this whole mess, but without being there for discussions, Drake didn’t know how or why this was happening. 

The fact was that tomorrow was going to be a massive risk. But they didn’t have a choice; it’s what they needed to do. Riley knew it. He knew it. But that meant that he didn’t want to spend tonight sweating his ass off and getting sworn at in Greek for not working fast enough. He just wanted to be with his wife and kid, and based on the way Riley was acting, he got the feeling it might do her some good, too.

Riley seemed to get where he was coming from, even without him articulating his horrible thoughts, as she just nodded and shifted back to hug him tightly again.

“Okay, Drake. Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Riley shifted in her seat, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself. She needed to keep her head down, not wanting her face to be clearly visible, but staring at the table constantly was really suspicious looking. So she just sipped her drink and played mindless games on her phone, making sure her hair swung in front of her face somewhat. It was the best she could do.

Leo was supposed to be at this bar by now. Based on what Drake had told her, she wasn’t exactly surprised, and it wasn’t like he was hours late or anything. But she had no way to get in touch with him, and the stress of not knowing was getting to her a bit. She kind of figured the fact that this was her first time out in almost two weeks was also a factor in her anxiety here, as was the fact that this was the first time Bridget was not right with her, or just in the next room over, since they’d fled the palace. But she needed to do this for her family.

When she’d told Drake that she should be the one to meet up with Leo, he’d put up the fight she’d expected. But she knew that it made more sense for her to be the one to do this, so she pushed him on it until he saw it her way. The fact was, she was terrified. Terrified of being caught and arrested without any way of letting Drake know what happened, terrified of being separated from her daughter, terrified of all of it. But that was why she had to be the one doing this. 

Drake was going out everyday, taking on those same risks and stressors, all to earn them some money and food. He’d followed her out of Cordonia, knowing it would cost him so much. He’d kept them afloat from the start, planning and buying and communicating and doing all the things Riley wasn’t able to do. She needed to do this one damn thing, if only to stop being a massive drain on Drake and their family.

She couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that Drake still seemed to worry about her. He would be highly justified if he decided to resent her after everything she put him through. He was doing all the hard work, and he had been the one reluctant to flee. Hell, he could have hated her for the fact that she was initially ready to take Bridget and run without him. But he didn’t seem to be mad about it at this point. He didn’t even bring these things up.

But Riley knew she shouldn’t keep pushing her luck on that front. Drake was running himself ragged trying to support them, and if she didn’t start contributing here, the resentment would start creeping in, slowly but surely. She would become this woman who ripped him away from his home and lifelong friends, only to make him carry massive burdens. She just knew it. So, this meeting with Leo was something she needed to do. It was one area where she could be the helpful one, the useful one. She needed to step up and handle it.

So, she’d dyed her hair, handed Drake her engagement and wedding rings, and put on her customer service blank smile and headed out. Meeting Leo at the casinos was out since there would be way too many security cameras, but Olivia had arranged for them to meet at a bar that was along the route back from the casinos to his hotel. It hopefully wouldn’t look too suspicious for him to stop in for a drink at the end of his night.

After 25 more minutes of painful waiting, including two brush offs of men who tried to buy her a drink, she finally noticed Leo come through the door, two pretty women in tow. They settled in at a booth in the back corner, and Riley waited. Leo was supposed to approach her; that was the plan. But knowing he was right there, just a few feet away, made it hard to stay put. Her instincts told her to jump out of her chair and to get what she needed from him right away so she could get going and get back to her family.

But she resisted the urge. She sat there, waiting, because she needed to do this right. This whole gamble would be for nothing if she messed things up in the final stretch. After what felt like a lifetime, she finally noticed Leo walking over to her table, two drinks in hand.

“Why is a pretty woman like you drinking all by herself?” he asked, sliding a drink over to her.

“I’m picky about who I keep as company. You might be just who I am looking for, though.”

Leo grinned at her response, taking a sip from his glass of scotch. “Loving the hair, by the way.”

Riley glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. She leaned in closer and hissed in Leo’s ear, “Careful, you aren’t supposed to know who I am.”

Leo waved his hand through the air. “Relax, it’s too loud and busy in here for anyone to notice. Now, drink up. It looks odd that I keep talking to you when you haven’t touched the drink I bought you.”

She tried to keep a pleasant sort of smile on her face as she leaned back and took a long swig from the glass he’d handed her. She didn’t like how… casual he was about the whole thing, but he was right, this needed to look like some mild flirtation. “I didn’t realize you would be bringing friends along for this,” she said, keeping her tone light as she cocked her head back towards the women still sitting in the booth in the back.

Leo just let out a chuckle. “Yes, there was a little change of plan. They think I’m asking you to join us back in my suite, but I am guessing that’s going to be a no from you?”

“Yes, shockingly I think I’m going to pass on that invite.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Leo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hotel key card. “The King George, room 517,” he said as he handed it to her before he leaned over and whispered, “We won’t be back for at least 30 minutes. The two duffel bags in the closet are for you. Good luck.” And with that he leaned back and gave her a little wink, sliding away from her table and heading back to join his companions.

Riley knew it would be suspicious for her to bolt immediately after their conversation, so she took three painful minutes to finish the drink Leo bought her, then got up and left, plugging “King George Hotel” into her phone and briskly walking the few blocks to the ritzy hotel.

She tried to look like she belonged, like she knew exactly where she was going as she got into the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. Like her heart wasn't practically pounding out of her chest with every step she took. Somehow, she made it to room 517 without attracting too much attention. She slid the key into the door, letting out a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her, alone in a dark and empty suite. 

She knew she didn’t have much time, so started searching, quickly finding two black duffel bags tucked inside one of the closets. She unzipped the first one, and sure enough, there were some of Bridget’s stuffed animals, her leather jacket, and Drake’s winter coat, all visible beneath some bundles of Euros and a file folder that undoubtedly contained their passports and some other personal paperwork.

Time was not on her side, so she zipped the bag back up and grabbed both of them, heading for her door with a smile on her face. She and Drake would have to go through it all together, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like they might have caught a break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hana shifted on the couch in the palace library, checking the time once again. She was still early; Kiara wasn’t due to meet her here for another eight minutes. 

The social season was officially, finally underway. Tonight was the opening ball, and Kiara had texted her to meet here, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers. It had been hard to resist checking the time repeatedly throughout the night, knowing that Kiara had picked a time late enough that their absence could easily be written off as them heading to bed, but not wanting to miss this meeting that was of vital importance.

But speeches had been given, including a rousing one from Olivia announcing that House Nevrakis would be putting up Liam Rys as a candidate for king during the Conclave, drinks had flowed, and now even the dancing was starting to wind down. It was finally time to hear what information Kiara was willing to provide.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, Kiara sliding in gracefully when she confirmed that Hana was the only one in the room.

“Sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said as she sat down next to Hana.

Hana shook her head. “Not at all. How do you want to do this?”

Kiara glanced towards the door. “I suppose there is no point beating around the apple tree here. We could be interrupted at any time. Barthelemy approached my father just over a month ago to discuss the no-confidence vote. I wasn’t there for that meeting, but my father filled me in on the basics before that first vote.” She paused for just a moment, taking a deep breath before she continued. “Merde, Hana. Barthelemy concocted this plan with Godfery almost a year ago, and they aren’t working alone. They have the support of Auvernal.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff @sarahx206

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby​

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

This is technically my first smut. I feel like since I always requests smuts, I figured I should give one back to Tumblr and for those who always make my fantasies come true. 

Warnings: Major Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

  I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

Yeah it’s my first smut...so I’m sorry if it sucks. (Pun intended)

[writteninsunshine]

I Like The Universe - Saïx/Xemnas - NSFW

Title: I Like The Universe

Author: Donnie

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Setting: The Castle That Never Was, Xemnas’ Room

Pairing: Saïx/Xemnas

Characters: Saïx, Xemnas, Axel

Genre: Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 14450

Type Of Work: One-Shot

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Oral Sex, Vague Master/Pet, Blowjobs, Face-Fucking, Skull-Fucking, PWP

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: The universe didn’t always have to be stars and planets.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: https://discord.gg/FyaWw25

I had this thought in my head last night and had to write it, I guess. I’m glad to get something written, I’ve been using writing sprints to get something done. It helps me to focus, so that’s good, at least. I’ve been needing to write more.

Kingdom Hearts Fic Masterlist

I Like The Universe

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saïx liked the universe. 

Something about the vastness of it, the sky spattered with stars, the knowledge of other Worlds, it all settled the anxiety in his chest. He could look out of the windows, or go to a high place to think, and the universe was always there to comfort him, to wrap its inky tendrils around his mind. It soothed his non-heart until it didn’t scream anymore until it was silent, and the silence was better than the loudness of his thoughts.

Saïx liked Xemnas.

He shouldn’t have, and he knew that, deep down. Axel and himself had gone into this not wanting to fall on his side. The unfortunate part was that it seemed that he was going to be left in the dust, their plan forgotten. There was nothing left of what they had once wanted to accomplish, and Saïx had been left behind, abandoned for the next cool thing. His heart, or lack thereof, had ached for days. 

That same silence he craved in his head became his entire personality, his loyalty in the right place to be swayed. Xemnas was nothing if not practical, and he’d seen it fit to call Saïx to his precipice, to draw him in and welcome him home. If he could keep someone’s loyalty, well, that was better than all of these little plots among his supposedly happy family.

“You wanted to see me, Superior?” Saïx asked calmly, watching the elder man as he gazed at Kingdom Hearts.

“Yes,” Xemnas spoke plainly, turning slowly, ethereal in all of his movements, “I am glad you arrived when you did. Has everyone checked in that was supposed to?”

“Yes, Superior.” The blue-haired man nodded, “Everything seems to be taken care of for the day.”

“Good. I was hoping you could join me in my room.” The elder man told him, stepping closer. A gloved hand pressed into Saïx’s cheek and he leaned into it, eyelids slipping closed. “Would you care to?”

“Yes, Superior.” He craved the attention, no matter what it was. 

“Good.” Opening a corridor, Xemnas gestured for the other to enter, “Please, after you.”

“Yes, Superior.” Those words left him so often, but they made him feel obedient, which was something Xemnas sought in him constantly. Perhaps he wanted it, too, because it earned him nothing but praise. As he walked through the portal, he let the other lead him, feeling a hand taking his own. It brought a soft smile to his lips, and he allowed himself to be taken to the elder man’s room.

A companionable silence overcame them as they entered Xemnas’ room, and the nightly ritual of undressing and laying together began. Xemnas’ hands worked through his hair, pulling a soft noise of contentment from the blue-haired man, and Xemnas simply smiled for him, closed-lipped and soft.

“What would you like to do tonight, pet?” Xemnas asked him, finally, his head tilting against the pillow. 

“I… Want to be touched,” Saïx responded softly, head tilting as those dark-skinned hands worked under his jaw to scratch there. It felt good, and his head fell back to grant him more access. Every gentle scrape of the other’s perfectly trimmed nails left him adjusting just slightly into the next touch and he sighed softly, content.

“Then I shall touch you. A loyal pet deserves nothing less.” The silver-haired male replied, kissing the scar between Saïx’s eyes and nuzzling his neck gently with his nose. Sitting up slowly, he let the blanket fall down to his hips, pooling there as his hands moved down Saïx’s chest. “On your back, pet.”

Rolling over and spreading out, Saïx bared himself to the other, watching as the elder man leaned down over his stomach. Soft hair tickled his abdomen as gentle kisses and sharp bites pressed into his skin. A soft throbbing began between his legs as those nails dug into his sides, scraping down to his thighs. Softly, a  keening whine left him, and his back arched as the elder’s tongue swirled around his nipple, leaving him panting softly. Xemnas always knew how to touch him to set his every nerve on fire.

Saïx whined again when the other’s mouth found his hip bone, biting into it and sucking until his cheeks hollowed. The younger man wriggled beneath his mouth, only stilling when one of those deft hands wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. It was times like these that made him feel important when Xemnas would focus entirely on <i>his</i> pleasure, and not his own. 

After a moment, those teeth left him and Saïx peered up just in time to watch Xemnas get up, settling between his legs. All of that dark skin pressed to and between his own left Saïx breathless, and he gasped as the elder’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock. No matter how much he wanted to watch, he found himself unable to, eyelids fluttering shut as he groaned.

Xemnas’ tongue played at the elastic bit of flesh beneath the head, and he sucked softly, leaving a panting groan pulled from Saïx’s lips. His hands fisted in the sheets, and the blue-haired man whined when he felt the other’s hand begin to stroke what wasn’t in his mouth. The other hand slipped down to roll his heavy balls, expertly pulling more gut-punched moans from his lips. 

Finally, Xemnas’ mouth dropped lower, slowly taking in more of him, sucking him deep and moaning around him. Swallowing around the head in his throat, he delighted in the howl of a moan leaving the other man, his back arching and hips threatening to leave the bed. He slurped loudly, sucking his way back to the head, before giving a little purr of a moan.

“You may thrust if it suits you, pet. You’ve been so good for me.” Xemnas couldn’t have said anything better, and the second that his lips closed around his prick again, both of Saïx’s hands flew to his hair. Thrusting up into the hot, wet cavern, his eyes rolled back, mouth open as he leaked precum down the other’s throat already. Xemnas gagged a little, at first, before relaxing his throat and letting Saïx have his fun. Sometimes that was all he had to do, let himself be used and the other was only that much more obedient afterward.

Even if that wasn’t the goal, Xemnas rather did enjoy how the other’s cock bulged his neck when he thrust, and he found himself closing his legs to try and mitigate some of his own arousal. Saïx was a handsome young man, and a good person to have on your side, even if he occasionally dallied with the wrong crowd. All he cared about at the moment was Xemnas and the pleasure that the elder could give him, and sometimes, that was enough.

Saïx worked himself into a frenzy, bucking off the bed wildly and force-feeding the other his cock with each erratic movement. It felt too good to finally be able to get some of that wild energy out, and all he had to do was chase his orgasm like it was the only purpose left for him. Xemnas would let him use him, and it was possibly the best thing anyone could have given him at this point in his life.

Throat spasming around him as Xemnas gagged again, Saïx felt the heat pooling in his stomach twist and he gave a loud howl, tossing his head back as his body went stiff. Both feet dug into the bed and pushed down, and he thrust up as he came, filling the other’s belly as he swallowed. Fists turned to soft palms, smoothing down Xemnas’ hair as he came down, hands quaking. He felt so good, now. It… Really was amazing how much more relaxed Xemnas could make him.

Slowly pulling off of his cock, Xemnas let it fall from his lips with a gentle ‘pop’ and laid it on Saïx’s belly. He smiled up at the other as he pet his milky thighs, and he kissed one of them before rising and falling in bed beside the other. Saïx was too tired to do much, smiling and nuzzling into him, holding the other male close. Asleep in a matter of seconds, Saïx remained curled around the silver-haired man for the rest of the night, Xemnas happy to work himself off slow and careful under the covers beside the other. Tomorrow would be a productive day, for sure.

Saïx loved the universe, but when he thought about it, he wasn’t thinking about planets and galaxies. It was Xemnas; even if they couldn’t love, his heart had figured it out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Alright, so that is out of the way! I’d had this idea even if I didn’t know where it was going last night and finally sat down to write it. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[johannesviii]

Top 12 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2012

We’ve now entered the first year in a trio of fantastic years for hit songs, so yeah, it’s a top 12.

You won’t like some entries on this particular list.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

Still working in Paris in 2012. Getting rapidly fed up with that. In constant stress to pay the rent because the landlord is bad and refuses to pay for stuff he should actually be responsible for in the flat. Other than that? Life was pretty good. “Having Money(tm)” meant being able to actually eat decent food and my health started to improve. Also I adopted a cat. That’s also the year I discovered the French branch of the SCP Foundation and started to contribute a lot to it. I also made this Tumblr blog!

I subscribed to a magazine called Elegy which always came with a music sample, which was great to discover new and vaguely obscure stuff.

Quite a lot of notable albums that year: Some Nights by fun., Night Visions by Imagine Dragons, Monkey Me by Mylène Farmer, Living Things by Linkin Park (with poorly chosen singles unfortunately imho), Revelations by mind.in.a.box., Babel by Mumford & Sons, Neverworld’s End by Xandria, and most importantly, the dreamy and emotional Valtari by Sigur Ros and the dark and excellent Hide & Seek by The Birthday Massacre (even though my year was mostly ruled by Automatic (VNV Nation) that came out the previous year in 2011). Actually having money meant I could finally own the albums I had wanted for years, and you can bet the fact that I owned zero The Birthday Massacre albums even though I had loved their stuff since 2008 was quickly rectified.

Nothing too annoying as far as non-elligible songs go this time, apart from the fact that more stuff from Mylo Xyloto (Coldplay) should have charted higher, and that I kinda regret the absence of La Vie Est Belle by MC Solaar. Not even sure I would have put it on the list, but still, great song.

Honorable mentions first!

Dusty Men (Saule) - Nothing to say about this. Pretty cool.

Young And Wild And Free (Snoop Dog) - That is a super chill and nice song.

Happy (C2C) - At the time, my brother was part-time DJ and opened a gig for these guys, and I was so proud of him! And I was also really glad to see some of their songs become hits. Very good stuff.

Midnight City (M82) - Borderline annoying or very good, depending on my mood.

Burn It Down (Linkin Park) - As I said, my opinion is that the singles from that album were poorly chosen, and Castle of Glass should have been the first one because let’s face it, that song is fantastic. Burn it Down isn’t bad at all, though.

Glad You Came (The Wanted) - I love how this song is written and it’s a lot of fun to hear every sentence starting with the end of the previous one.

I Cry (Flo Rida) - A ton of energy, very propulsive song.

Domino (Jessie J) - There’s a shit ton of weird metaphors in there but it’s still a very solid song.

Princess of China (Coldplay ft Rihanna) - I know I keep going on and on about Mylo Xyloto and how weird it was that the biggest hits from the album weren’t at all its best songs, but still, that’s really good stuff.

Ho Hey (The Lumineers) - The last cut from the list. This song is adorable and always puts me in a good mood. It’s so cute it almost feels mean to leave it out of this top. It’s also elligible for 2013 but I had even less room on that list, so...

And now, a top 12.

12 - Diamonds (Rihanna)

US: #94 / FR: #5

Was considering leaving it out of the list, decided there was no way I could leave it out, realised there was no room left, and added a slot. Welcome to a top 12 instead of 10. But yeah, love that song even if it’s no longer on my playlist nowadays.

11 - Bangarang (Skrillex)

US: Not on the list / FR: #92

Yes.

The other reason this list was turned into a top 12 was to put Skrillex on it.

I’m not even remotely sorry.

Make fun of dubstep all you like, that track is an explosion of sharp colors and edges, like an audio version of edgy street art. It’s almost impossible for me to listen to it without miming the shapes of the sound with energetic gestures and some hand-flapping. Perfect stim music.

10 - Die Young (Kesha)

US: #85 / FR: #78

This is no Take It Off but it’s the next best thing available, and it’s catchy and has a lot of fun little details (like the dirty socks line), and also, unlike the previous two, it’s still on my mp3 player, so yeah, 10th spot is fair. I love a party song with some sort of apocalyptic mindset.

9 - Skyfall (Adele)

US: Not on the list / FR: #2

I usually don’t give a damn about James Bond movies but I sincerely loved that one, with its stakes becoming smaller and smaller and more personal as the story progressed, and most importantly, it had some visually striking colors near the end, and this wonderful, wonderful song. As I already said about the previous Adele song, I only like slow, emotional songs when there’s some energy behind them or at least some sort of dramatic atmosphere, and boy that’s some quality Drama(tm) right there.

8 - A l’Ombre (Mylène Farmer)

US: Not on the list / FR: #86

If C’est Une Belle Journée was the “last great Mylène Farmer song”, A l’Ombre might just be her best single released post 2003, at least imho. It’s only #8 because the general quality of hit songs in 2012 was insanely high, otherwise it would be way higher.

It’s about losing your identity and as you might already know I’m a sucker for that theme ; also the music video features Olivier de Sagazan, an artist who puts layers of clay, paint and mud on his own head and body to sculpt new faces, and it’s disturbing in all the best ways (obvious body horror tw for the link even if it’s clay and very abstract. Also there’s wolves. I’m just saying because I have one friend who’s scared of them).

7 - Thrift Shop (Macklemore)

US: Not on the list (#1 the very next year obviously) / FR: #7

Finally, a song about my favorite type of clothes: the cheap, comfy, unfashionable ones. With a great beat! And really fun lyrics! And a great music video! And a couple of actually insightful lines! Can’t even imagine how happy I would have been if this had dropped 3 years earlier back in university when I was still called “the hobo”.

I was still wearing that same old black coat from 2006 in 2012, mind you.

6 - Lights (Ellie Goulding)

US: #5 / FR: Not on the list

This song looks fantastic and, just like Fireflies by Owl City which to me looks exactly like fireflies flying in the night, it’s incredibly satisfying to hear a song titled “Lights” which looks like a series of pulsing semi-distant lights in the dark.

5 - We Are Young (fun.)

US: #3 / FR: #21

As far as favorite bands go, the 2000s charts gave me Linkin Park, Placebo, The Killers and My Chemical Romance. The 2010s charts were a bit less generous and only gave me fun., who’s own arrogance killed them right when they were at the top of their game and that’s nothing short of a tragedy considering how f█cking good their few hit songs were.

I guess your band either dies a hero, or it lives long enough to see itself become Imagine Dragons.

Oh well. At least we had some of the best songs (if not the best) of the 2010s while they were there.

4 - Turn Me On (David Guetta ft Nicki Minaj)

US: #35 / FR: #57

Ooooooh I bet some of you are furious this is placed 5 slots above Adele.

Listen. You know I love dance music, especially when it’s aggressive or with a darker edge. And yeah, that sounded like a lost Benassi Bros track, and it had a great (but way too short) rap bridge. You also know how literal-minded I am. So when I first heard Nicki Minaj’s voice with a ton of electronic distorsion saying “Make me come alive, come on and turn me on”, I didn’t picture anything sexy, but a robot. I’d rather pretend songs are about interesting things instead of generic supposedly sexy club anthems.

PLOT TWIST! As it turns out, the music video, instead of featuring some generic club stuff, featured everything I wanted and more: a weird, steampunk world of robots in which an inventor just created an android that looks way more alive than all the previous ones, and they all become jealous, and break his door down. With an axe.

Framing is everything. I absolutely love it. What a gift.

3 - It’s Time (Imagine Dragons)

US: #91 / FR: Not on the list

Believe it or not, I used to love Imagine Dragons. I still love the album Night Visions, which, apart from a couple of duds (like Demons, which is dreadful), is damn good. I don’t know what happened after that. I really don’t. Everything became slow, and heavy, and kind of boring. It worked fine for Radioactive, because that was a post-apocalyptic song, but when you try to apply the same formula to motivational songs, it simply doesn’t work.

Oh well. At least, for now, there was It’s Time. The music video, with people walking through a wasteland, is the perfect imagery for that song. Rebuild something new, but don’t change who you are. Things might get broken, but we’ll make art with them. We’ll plant trees over the graves of people who burnt them. Positive pessimism only, lads.

2 - Good Time (Owl City & Carly Rae Jepsen)

US: #38 / FR: #40

The most innocent song about parties ever written. It IS always a good time when you listen to it. It reminded me of the parties at the campus at my job training the previous year, where we’d make dumb contests like “best disguise but if you buy anything you’re disqualified” and I made Freddy Krueger claws in papercraft and a friend won with his “emperor Nero” disguise which was basically a toga made with his bed sheets, a crown made with ivy he found outside, and him looking incredibly punchable on purpose.

It’s an incredibly cute song, it never outstays its welcome, always puts me in a good mood AND gives me some much needed energy. You already know I loved Owl City to begin with, even if I wanted him to have way more hit songs, and Carly Rae Jepsen was going to end on my playlist eventually, with several fantastic future songs. I’m glad this was a hit. They both deserved it.

1 - Some Nights (fun.)

US: #14 / FR: Not on the list (why. how. f█ck off)

There’s drums! There’s ‘woho-woho’s! There’s guitars! It’s a perfect pop-rock earworm that never ever gets annoying! There’s a goddamn solo made with an autotuned version of the singer yelling “aaaaaaa”!! What more can you possibly want from a hit song?

I’m saying this right now: this is my favorite elligible hit song of the entire decade. Spoilers, I know. The #1s for 2013 and 2014 both come really close, but they aren’t as anthemic as this one. What did we do to deserve something this f█cking good in that day and age? I have no clue, but clearly, we didn’t deserve more of that, because these guys split up very quickly.

Anyone know some kind of magic spell to bring them back for an encore?

Next up: The Year When Just About Everyone Dropped An Excellent Album

[melissatreglia]

Did You Miss Me?: Darkiplier in 2018

For the most part, 2018 was a quiet year. In contrast with 2017, where we were gratified to see Dark's monochromatic visage throughout the year, 2018 carried playful hints and teasing of the elusive entity's presence but no confirmation. There were thumbnails and quick flashes that indicated He was continuing to pull strings, ensuring that His presence was felt but His face never really seen.

Throughout 2017, He'd show up during what us mere mortals consider major holidays or important events. Valentine's Day. Easter. Even Cinco de Mayo got a nod. And of course, the infamous Friday the 13th late in the year.

But 2018? He apparently decided to stay home in the void during our days of revelry, with the possible (though not confirmed) exception of the decidedly strange Fall in Love with Markiplier video for Valentine's Day. And for the TWO Friday the 13ths in 2018? He was a no-show. In 2017, He'd returned to shake things up in our safe little lives... and in 2018, He left us wanting more, like the skilled manipulative seducer He is.

Getting Over It, Part 8 included a thumbnail with Mark's dour expression and a suspiciously familiar colour scheme. The thumbnail for WATCH OUT!! had Mark reaching for us in a state of panic (which belied the contents of the video itself). 

Try Not to Smile Challenge #3, while the smile-free serial killer laugh is creepy, it's not a Darkiplier moment. Though, him joking near the end of the video that people who didn’t smile at some point during the video are "soulless demons" does seem to be a Darkiplier reference of some kind (or maybe a Devilplier reference, since the Cuphead song was released just two months later)?

In Madison, when his game character watches a television that glitches and fades to static, Mark fearfully squeaks, "Darkiplier, is that You?!" While in the description for End My Suffering, just ten days later, Mark wailed, "What malevolent being did I piss off to be cursed like this!"

Brother Wake Up promised "I’ll try to help in whatever way I can but you have to wake up!" Which, while it fit perfectly with the title of the game, the description also fit pretty damn well into the channel lore too. And Umfend's description was likewise ominous: "You shouldn't have forgotten about me... I'll make you remember..."

Meanwhile, the title for the video of Welcome The The Game 2.0 doubles as a callback to an earlier Darkiplier moment: "Don't Play This Game". Horns of Fear did it one better, with the thumbnail featuring many eyes staring out at the viewer (again with an all-too-familiar colour scheme), while the title warned us "DON'T LOOK AWAY..."

In the Warframe playthrough late in the year, Mark's camera briefly freezes. But in 3 Scary Games #9, his camera freezes repeatedly before glitching back to normal, and he implies that "there's something else" messing with the camera. In 5 Nostalgic Games, when Mark gives the definition of ubiquitous and bares his teeth while saying "We're learning today!", the video suddenly glitches. 

The thumbnail for Markiplier has fled the country had Mark lunging at the camera, his face completely darkened by shadow. And the thumbnail for 3.75 Scary Games blatantly toyed with the fandom with text shouting "DARKIPLIER?"

And the fanbaiting didn't stop there. More thumbnails that hinted at Dark included a hand bathed in blue light reaching out to the viewer for the fittingly titled The Devil Haunts Me, and a cartoon of Mark cowering away from Dark's furious glare for You're Perfect.  

Markiplier's Tour: The Movie featured the improv teacher stating that Markiplier wasn't at the shows. "I don't know who that guy was, but it wasn't him." Even the Markiplier Animated short I've Got Boobs?! features a brief scene of a shadowy Darkiplier rising from a well and whispering something unintelligible.

For the most part however, the teasing came directly from out of Mark’s mouth.

In 3 Scary Games #5, Mark jokes that a ghost (clad in the classic white sheet and glitching somewhat) is Darkiplier. 3 Scary Games #13, the first (jokey) game called "Death Trips" features RGB text and Mark narrating in an echoing voice. In Midnight Shift, a game where Mark is memorably being chased by mannequins, he jokes that an RGB poster on a wall is "expricitly [sic] Darkiplier". In SCP Containment Breach #57, Mark jokes when he sees the intro screen of a pretty lady in 3D with an open third eye, "Look at this Darkiplier ass thing... it's like Celine, straight out of [Who Killed Markiplier?]". 

In 3 FNAF Fan Games, he even chortles that the game has “Darkiplier letters.” In Devil Daggers, he scoffs, “A high-pitched ringing in the darkness. That’s always good.”

[Image captured by me, on June 3, 2018.] 

Just before midsummer, I received a pleasant surprise. In Imscared: Steam Edition, Mark says "I gotta go get back into the Shadow Realm, the Upside Down." Which, personally, made me very happy at the time. Since I first became active on Tumblr in July 2017, I've been referring to Dark's void dimension as the Shadow Realm, while Mark has referred to it in the past as the Upside Down, making the link fairly clear in this statement. (Somehow, whether by happy accident or serendipity, my terminology and its proper context made its way to Mark. As a fan, I can't describe how pleased that made me, to know he might have actually seen something I’ve made.)

(But enough about me. I’m just an obsessive Darkiplier fangirl. So let’s get back to cataloging all the hinty goodness!)

By this point, you’re probably wondering, “Okay, so all those hints are decent. But where the hell is Dark in all of this?!” But that’s the point, my friends: He was there the whole time. In brief flashes of imagery, in hints and innuendo. Unseen, but his presence clearly felt as our expectations were played with by our channel host.

We expected a wild ride at the beginning, when Mark made two brief livestreams on January 5th, wandering through the theatre he was slated to play for the You’re Welcome Tour. 

The first of the two, “What’s Going In?!”, he showed us the back area of the Paramount Theatre, using only improvised narration and acting to build an atmosphere of dread. He claimed the theatre was haunted, and that he could smell “the scent of death”, ultimately vowing to protect those who would be visiting the theatre to see him that night. He also declares the EXIT a trap, before being pursued by an unseen entity.

The drama continued with “...” (a title that is impossible to find using Youtube’s search options), that begins with an eerie quiet. Tyler eventually finds Mark’s dropped phone. He asks the viewers where Mark is, before going on a search. He’s eventually attacked from behind and the stream cuts off, leaving those who weren’t at the show that night to wonder how the matter resolved.

In Simulacra, there's a brief flash of Mark in his Big Mood outfit with text saying "WAKE UP". When the simulacra changes the colour of the cellphone's display and begins to speak in a calm, creepy voice, Mark reflexively responds, "Darkiplier?" and sounding unnerved at the mention of "behind your black mirrors", then being stunned as the screen appears to crack.

At the end of Simulacra, he gives an uncharacteristically downbeat speech, declaring that "We're all just digital copies of ourselves, idealized in a digital form. And maybe that's the way that life is just supposed to be. Maybe we should all just roll over and accept it, because there's nothing that we can do to change our fates, after all. And who's to say that it's not better for us just to wear the masks that are our digital personas, and live our lives as those? Maybe that is for the best."

The How To Make Slime video goes from harmlessly silly and takes a twist for the stabby. Mark declares "In order to appease the Dark Gods..." then he instructs the viewer to slice their palm and "whisper the words of power." The words in question? "They shall rise. They shall consume. All will be lost when they rise from the darkness of the ocean. Madness opens up to everything." When the making of the slime is concluded, he adds that "We all get to enjoy three years of peace before the Dark Gods consume us all."

I have no idea what that means, but I’m pretty sure it may involve Cthulhu chomping on my kidneys. (Then again, Darkiplier is a Lovecraftian monstrosity Himself. So, if it’s Him who’s one of the Dark Gods? He can have a kidney from me if He’s really that hungry. Kidneys are a redundant system anyway, so you really only need one.)

April Fool’s Day brought us the gag gift of The Official Markiplier Rock, with a suspiciously deep voice informing us that the rock is available in white. Additionally, the video warned to alert the SCP Foundation if the rock appears to start talking! (What? My rock has been talking to me since I got it, and there’s nothing wrong with me!)

Baldi’s Basics: Secret Ending featured an explanation about attaining the secret ending, with Mark’s otherwise normal voice echoing slightly with subtle white noise effects. (Hmmm...)

In December, for the charity livestream and archived in a video called Santa Spills The Tea, a Santa Claus that sounded suspiciously like Wilford Warfstache declared that Dark, the master manipulator and Big Bad of Mark’s channel, was a “sweetheart! He shouts a lot, but he’s just a big ol’ pussy. He can’t even possibly… he didn’t hurt anybody! He didn’t kill one person! If there’s anybody who’s on my naughty li— uh, on my list of people who’ve been bad, he’s the only one not on it.” (And mind you, in 2017′s Markiplier TV, Wilford sang a little ditty about how he killed Santa Claus and the kids wouldn’t be getting any presents that year. And Dark still convinced us to shoot someone in A Date With Markiplier, while apparently feigning regret. But heck, use your own judgement.)

Mark also dropped one heck of a hint of things to come in, of all places, Markiplier Tries Korean Beauty Products. There, the descriptive intro to the following year’s DAMIEN animated feature can be heard at one point. “Snow blankets the field, a pristine meadow of untouched white. No animals call. No birds cry. Only the steady rustling of wind through dead trees accented by the impact of his axe. A crack-like thunder rings out as the ancient pine finally succumbs to his murderous assault. The old giant crashes into the ground. Dami-”

Wilford Motherloving Warfstache was, of course, focused on the mustachioed entity. But there were elements to the short film that felt like Darkiplier was watching along with us. Particularly the VHS-style glitch at the end of the film.

Of course, there were only three videos that year that potentially contained Darkiplier himself.

One candidate is Fall in Love with Markiplier. Yes, the name on the title is Mark’s... but is it really him? The entirety of the film is a fourteen minute staring contest with Mark, as he lovingly (and somehow also creepily) gazes at the viewer in different settings -- by the ocean, at a dog park, and in a bubble bath. The only spoken words are in the intro, over the strains of the music from A Date with Markiplier: “It’s scientifically proven that you can fall in love with someone simply by maintaining eye-contact for an extended period of time. So now, you can fall in love with Markiplier all over again in these three locations. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The second candidate is World’s 5th Quietest Let’s Play, released just 5 days prior to the Let’s Have a Romantic Staring Contest video. Unlike the previously mentioned video, there’s more going on this time around. The game to be played quietly this time around is Bennett Foddy’s infamous rage-inducing creation “Getting Over It”. 

He threatens the developer with the words, “You will see the inside of your entrails, when I drag them out of your abdomen and show them to you.” (Ah, how romantic.) He goes even further than that, saying soon after, “This is a representation of My sins... You will be purged in the fires of absolution, along with all of your ilk. I will burn the heretics that you are harbouring inside of your soul... I will destroy you.” (Now there’s the smite-happy Hellgod we all love!)

But He doesn’t stop there, snarling under His breath, “You will burn in the fires of My own hell! And I will choose your pain to last eternity!” However, He is ultimately defeated by the game, departing our company with  “Alas, I leave you now, to slumber amongst the ancients.” (Aww, poor guy needs a hug. And I know just who’s ready to snuggle with Him...)

But the last of the video to potentially contain Darkiplier is... the four-hour long play through of Hearts & Heroes. Is it canon Dark? No, probably not. It’s a fan game, though the words of dialogue are acted out by Mark himself. But rather than simply recounting key phrases for you, here’s the Boss Battle between Mark’s team and Dark, edited by the lovely icedpinkpeebles (Mark’s goofy character names and all!):

So, what does all of this ultimately mean? Why did Darkiplier fade into the background in 2018? And, most importantly, what is He up to now?

The truth is I don’t know any more than you do. I can only guess.

But I can tell you this: We don’t know Darkiplier as well as we all think we do. Many of us (including me) fully expected Dark to raise hell following the events of the jokey Darkiplier vs Antisepticeye video in 2017 (because He did mention how He hates being mocked!). And while we did get more Dark at the end of that year, it was in the form of an origin story.

Whatever Dark’s planning, we’re not going to see it coming. Because He’s playing a long game. And when you’re immortal like He is, you have all the time in the world to get what you want. Be it for love or revenge, Darkiplier remains a force to be reckoned with.

But here we are, in the eye of the storm. Only time will tell before the final wrath of the hurricane makes landfall.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 66

Title & Song: Your Sins Will Find You out

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 6100+

Summary:  ****IF YOU WOULD BE OFFENDED BY BLASPHEMY WITH CHRISTIANITY AND/OR CATHOLICISM...DO NOT READ THIS.**** Because this is all about a former Catholic letting out her pent up rage for it and her father by fucking her Jewish boyfriend in a confessional and having a nasty mouth while he role plays as a priest. Alfie and Gen are naughty. Let us never forget that. Amen.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit Sexual Content: Vaginal and anal play. Dirty Talk. Sex in a confessional. Role Play as a Priest. So, blasphemous if you’re into that sort of thing. A giant fuck you to her Catholic upbringing and dad. FLUFF. Talk of marriage. They’re so twisted I adore them. 

**Chapter song is Your Sins Will Find You Out by Eli Paperboy Reed.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You meet him at the church, a large and old cathedral that apparently matched the importance of the man who had passed. You hadn't known him but knew he was a big deal in the jewelry quarter, and if he was important enough for Alfie to feel the need to be seen at the funeral you figured it was important enough to dress up for. 

Granted, it certainly felt correct to walking into a Catholic church in all black for the first time in over thirteen years. As was your intention, heads turn when you walk in and you feel a tingling sense of naughtiness pass over you. Perhaps it was that Catholic guilt that had been beaten into you over the years through corporal punishment. The wild years you'd spent beating that guilt away with the same actions that put it into in the first place come to mind, you slink about the stone and stained glass in the entryway, looking for Alfie.

You watch his face change when he sees you, and it does more for you than endless heads turning in any room could. Your dress, a high necked, long sleeved and floor-length black gown. Sheer coverage over a solid black bodice and skirt clung to your filled out feminine form, your jeweled handbag clutched in your grasp as you sauntered over towards him, his eyes looking over you as the men he's speaking to turn to see what's caused an uncharacteristic silence from Alfie.

You looked like an angel of death, walking into the room the way you did. Your hair plaited and pulled around to one side, a jeweled clasp containing the soft mass of it. Your earrings sparkled, catching the light from the stained glass windows in their multitude of colors. He clears his throat as you approach, outstretching his hand to place on your back in a subtle statement of possession. "'Ello darling," he says softly with a mutual nod as you stand like a statue by his side as he introduces you. "Gentlemen, this is my lovely Miss Genevieve Durand," he spoke smoothly, you loved the pride you could hear in it in its gruffness.  "This is Mr. Doyle, Mr. Callahan. Jewelers both and Doyle is an old school mate of mine." he elaborates as you extend your hand to eldest first.

"Mr. Callahan." you give a polite nod and curtsy to them both as they shake your hand, seemingly unsure of the boldness of the gesture from a woman, and possibly hesitant to touch something seemingly owned by Alfie. "Mr. Doyle. Lovely to meet you both."

"Miss." they both respond politely.

"Might I say your jewels are pristine, Miss Durand." Mr. Callahan says.

"You may." you give him a friendly smile to break the tension. "And thank you. I take great pride in them." you return your hands to your purse in front of you.

"Would you excuse us?" Alfie says, a hand lightly on your elbow to pull you towards the large, daunting wooden doors that led into the arched peaks of the cathedral.

"Something the matter?" you whisper, recognizing the acoustics of the room would be awe-inspiring.

"No, no," he says with a shake of his head. "Just wanted a moment with you before..." he gestures vaguely with his hand to the pulpit. "...all this begins." he huffs out. You walk leisurely past statues and towering examples of art in the room as you speak softly, moving among the attendees with polite nods. "I must say you look stunning." he expresses closely to your ear.

"Thank you darling." you bat your lashes at him. "You look handsome as always. Did you trim your beard?" you ask, refraining from running your fingers through it.

"I did, ever the observant one." he chuckles. "You look like the angel sent down to retrieve the man in question today from his final resting place. A portrait of the angel of dark and light, love." he muses.

"You speaking of beauty in such a macabre way will do things to me Alfie, you know this." you smirk at him.

"As it should. Perhaps if death had looked like this I wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive during the wars, eh?" he gives a cheeky grin and the thrill of the discussion in such a morbid way was causing your face to blush. "You've been paintin' me as deities but if I were a painter, yeah? I'd be paintin' you exactly like 'is. Like a female Abaddon, dripping in all black, joining with the abyss. Oh, what fire and destruction you could bring, my love." he whispers. "Never full so the eyes of man are never satisfied." he recites and you blush deeper shades as those soft lips seduce you with their silver tongue accomplice.

"If you keep charming me in such a way we both very well may burst into flames in this church." you hold back a giggle that threatened to break the solemn silence of the dark atmosphere. "Trying to seduce me at a funeral. My word, Alfie." you playfully scold, a gentle smack to his chest. "Have my lurid curiosities started rubbing off on you?" you question.

"More interesting in rubbin' off on you, love." he says without making eye contact, an entirely casual delivery that makes you cover your mouth to stifle the laugh.

"Alfie Solomons." you hiss with wide eyes and pursed lips to hide your smile.

"Wot?" he grins and it charms you entirely.

"You should stop enabling me, who knows what'll happen if you keep talking like that."

"I know what'll happen." he nods and leans in close. "And it has been nearly two weeks since I've been with you and I have to say I welcome whatever that aberrant brain of yours can come up with." he gives you cocky nod of his head.

"Is that a challenge?" you ask with raised brows.

"It's whatever you want it to be love." he coos.

You sit through the lengthy service and behave, the smoke and costume bringing back flashes of your childhood. Alfie quirks his eyebrow at you when you recite the readings, you ignore him, you couldn't help that they'd been engraved into your psyche by cold and brutal nuns that would lash at your hands if you didn't recite them properly. Your hands started to ache just at the thought. This all led you back to your father and thinking about the man that had spoken to you fills you with a deep annoyance you try to keep from turning into red hot anger. But the lingering effects of Alfie's cheeky words stay with you, you can feel it every time you shift your thighs. It brings back an old and familiar feeling, that naughtiness you felt so often when you were younger that couldn't be contained. That want to rebel, to be bad and revel in it. You let your anger fuel it, planning what you might do to indulge in it. It'd been so long since you'd gotten up to some good old fashioned naughtiness, perhaps it was time to get back in touch with your sexually adventurous side again since you had a singular man to cater to your whims now. And he certainly seemed enthusiastic to do so.

Alfie can see the tension around your eyes, the way they looked out far past the priest who was speaking. He wasn't sure what the cause of it was, but when he reaches out to put his hand on your thigh your eyes flutter out of their trance and you take a deep breath and smile at him softly. You scoot closer, he puts his arm over your shoulders and your cross your legs towards him. You let your hand rest on his thigh to plant the seed in his head that you might do more. But you resist. You rest against him, your thumb moving back and forth slightly on occasion, leaving him wondering about your motive.

It is announced the cemetery that the man will be taken to and it is asked for everyone to clear out, with instructions given on who to follow to get there. As the front moves out first, once the procession gets back to you, you reach out and takes his arm gently to keep him close and before you reach the doors, you step to the side and grip his arm, he looks to you and moves out of the stream of people. You say nothing and neither does he, nodding and waiting as the others filed out. Soon the room was empty.

"You alright, love?" he whispers, leaning into your side.

You shake your head, but your eyes don't read as upset and he lets out a low groan before a mischievous smile comes across your lips. You wait until you hear the front doors close, peaking around the doorway to see only one person left, a very elderly woman who was  making her way up the stairs.

"Gen," he whispers, getting your attention. "What are you doin'?" he narrow his eyes at you.

"Having a little fun." you say turning and letting a purposely seductive smile comes across your face. You walk up to him, hands sliding under his coat. "You want to have some fun with me Alfie?" you ask, batting your lashes at him, raising your chin to meet his face.

"What ya got in mind?" a deep, masculine chuckle escapes him.

"I'm feeling rather naughty." you begin with a pout. "Rather lustful. Sinful really." you purr. "You want to play a bit of pretend with me? I've never fucked in a church and I find myself feeling a bit devilish in here..." you grin. "Father." you let out a deep giggle and your tongue peaks out from between your teeth.

"Ah, child." he nods, catching on immediately, but of course he would. "What can I help you with?" he takes your face into his hands, speaking low and slow to you.

"I need to make a confession," you say, pulling away and walking towards the confessional booth that lay in a secluded hallway in a wing off of the main, highly decorated cathedral. "Would you hear me out, Father?" you ask, opening the door to what would be his side of the wooden booth, your back arched and pressed against the door.

"That I would." he says with that deep velvet tone that touches you in your most intimate places.

You move to the other side of the booth and sit, hands in your lap, the space smaller than you remember, the lights filtering in from the tinted glass top, a suited red wash over the cubicle. "Forgive me Father. For I have sinned. It has been... thirteen years since my last confession." you let out a chuckle that is purely you and not part of the role-playing you were partaking in.

He slides open the barrier, the lattice separating the two of you. You can see his intimidating silhouette also bathed in red light. He leans back against the wall. Trying to recall everything he knew about Catholicism. “Please tell me of your sins." He begins with simply.

“I accuse myself of lust, Father.” Your voice quiet and breathy, making the hairs on his arms prickle up at attention. “You see... there is this man.” He feels the corner of his mouth pull back into a smile. “He does things to me. Makes me feels things. Gives me the most perverse thoughts. Sinful and adulterous things, Father.” You whisper.

"What thoughts, I must know the nature of your sins." you can tell by his low and breathy tone that you're having an effect on him.

"Sodomy," you whisper. "I want him everywhere, Father. All the time. In the most unnatural of ways." your words and low tone travel over his skin and make his cock twitch to attention. "I get so turned on thinking about him wasting the gift of life in my mouth just so I can taste him that I pleasure myself to the thought." you run your hands down your chest, stimulating your hard nipples, listening to his heavy breathing just a short distance away. “I know it is wrong, Father. I know I should stay away from a man that makes me lose control the way he does. But I cannot. I know he’s bad. Not only for my salvation but he is a criminal, Father as well. Bad for me because he inspires such lustful yearning. Bad for himself for what he does. And oh... does it makes me wet thinking of the evil he does.” you practically moan, hearing him shift next to you.

“Why would you associate with a man like this, child?” an almost dopey smile on his face, he grunts and move his hips to undo the button on his trousers.

“Because I like being bad.” You purr. “I like that he’s a criminal. A thief. A liar. A murderer. All these things are sins I must also ask for forgiveness for. But none as much as my sins of the flesh. I’ve never met a man like him. When he touches me it makes me so hot it’s as if his fingers were the licking flames of hell come up to devour us both in our sin. I find myself at worship of him instead of Christ." you bite your lip and start the pull your skirt up your thighs with a low hum.

“A man who inspires blasphemy is no man to be with.”  he groans, his hand moving under his clothes to rub at himself.

“But that is what makes it so delicious, Father. I am a filthy sinner and I’ve come to confess it. I love him and I love how he possesses me. He makes me his whore,  Father. And I must confess these sins because they consume me mind, body, and soul just as he has.”

“And you are looking to be cleansed of your sins?” his head rests back, eyes closed as his hand moves slowly up and down his hard cock.

“Yes, Father. Cleanse me of my lustful sins.” you whine, your hand rubbing yourself over your knickers.

“You know I have the power to absolve you. And your sins are grave, child.” he says through gritted teeth, the filthy words still floating around his lust hazed mind.

“They are Father. I feel I must be punished for them.” you hear him grunt and you slip your fingers under your pants, sliding them down your legs.

“You must repent. Then I will forgive you and you will be cleansed.” he smirks, his tongue flicking out over his open lips, hand unintentionally tighter now around himself.

“What must I do Father?” You play up, a wicked smile on your face as you spread the growing wetness up and down your soft slit.

“You must kneel.” he says in a demanding tone that makes you whimper

“To pray Father?” you ask innocently.

“To worship.” He states certainly and you shut your eyes with a heavy exhale. “You must come here, child. Your sins are so grave I must lay my hands on you to see the proof of your sin myself.” you let out a low growl of pleasure for the demand.

“Anything you say, Father.” You slip out of the booth, a quick look around to find no one around before you slowly back into his side of the confessional.

He sits with his cock out, hand loose and teasing around it. You turn and act surprised and he is smitten with by your acting once again.

“Father!” You say with an accusation, your lips and tongue moving slowly, eyes fixated on his hand, shaking his cock at you.

“You’ve told me of what a whore you can be. I want you to embrace it, purge it all here and now. Show me what a whore you are so I will know what punishment will serve you.”

You drop to your knees and take his cock out of his grasp. ”Will this grant me forgiveness?” you whisper licking your lips only a breath away from him, looking into his dark eyes, mouth set in a wicked smile.

“Only I have the power to make that decision.  And if you truly wish to be absolved, I will know through your actions." his eyes stare into yours as you ghost your lips across the underside of his cock. "So show me."

"What a whore I am for him?" you ask, lips moving back down his length.

"Yes." he nods and rests his hands at his sides, a challenging look on his face.

You close your eyes and stick out your tongue, a broad lick across his balls as his nostrils flare. You do as he asks, the thrill of the crude words, the power he was holding over you in this scenario all drove you forward. You take his balls into your mouth, humming as your lips suck at the soft flesh. You return your gaze to him, a long open-mouthed lap up his cock before taking him down and into your throat. He releases a noise that tells you you're doing well. He brushes a few fallen pieces of hair from your face, his hand waiting, resting lightly on your head. You keep quiet as best you can, knowing the door was latched, but that was all the protection you had against any intrusion. You bob on him deeply, lips gripping and tongue swirling, the wet sucking noises, and your gasping breaths as you popped off him the only sounds. The heat started to build in the small location, you could feel the sweat starting to form on your spine and between your legs as they were pushed together in the small space.

He grips you by your braid at the base of your head, pulling your head back and tapping his cock against your lips that were set in a wicked smile before extending out your tongue and panting for him. "If you want my forgiveness and my absolution, you must do what I ask of you." his tone was deep and dark, eyes giving you no reason to be drawn out of the fantasy.

"Am I not proving what a whore I am?" you ask with batting lashes, such a juxtaposition to how you were gagging on his cock just moments before. "Forgive me," you whisper, taking his hands and placing them on either side of your face. "Use me." you ask of him, "Fuck my face. I want you to." you say with pouted lips before your long lashes flutter shut, casting shadows as you take him down again, shaking your head once you reach the base of him.

"Fuck." you hear him groan out, trying to stay quiet. He grabs your head, fingers in your pulled back hair, as his hips begin to move himself in and out of your mouth, feet pushing hard into the floor as he picks up speed. You welcome it, keeping your lips taut and your throat relaxed, still sucking at him, breathing through your nose and making gagging noises as he ventured far into you. He stops as he feels the saliva follow a hard gag, lifting your head up to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

"Don't stop." you say with the tip of his cock in your mouth and he growls, you moan as he goes right back to it, swearing under his breath. He doesn't want to finish in your mouth, even if you'd confessed to loving it. He wants to give you something more, up close and personal to thank you for what was one of the more twisted fucks he'd ever had. He pulls you off of him again, this time one handed with a fist full of hair.

You look a mess and you know it, your eye makeup smudged with watery eyes, lipstick nowhere to be seen now except at the base of his cock. With spit strung from your mouth to his cock, hanging from your chin he swears at the sight. "You shouldn't swear, Father." you say through heavy panting and he gives your cheek a firm but not even stinging slap. "Am I being punished?" you ask with half lidded eyes and a smile that makes his balls tighten in its naughtiness.

"Not yet." he snarls out, moving you both in the small space. "Up." he says, hand still on your hair and pulling you to your feet. You both circle, switching spots in the booth as he reaches behind you to grab the chair he'd been sitting in after peaking outside to the body of the church to check for anyone being around. He knew with what he planned to do to you, that you wouldn't be keeping quiet on your own.

He shut and latches the heavy wooden door behind him with a daunting and echoing sound. He presses you against the back wall, the sturdiest and most quiet of the four offered to you. He presses himself against you, holding you tight by the chin. "Do you believe yourself to have repented enough, child?" he gruffs out, nose grazing your jaw as you hum in excitement as you lick your lips.

"I do not." you shake your head and give him the largest and most innocent eyes you can afford given the state you were in.

"And do you think you have shown me the extent of your lustful sins?"

"I do not." you answer the same.

"Then lift up the lovely dress." you gather it in your hands, fisting handfuls of black fabric to your hips. "Such a modest thing only a lady would wear. And you are no lady." He shakes his head and hums in a low register "I think your sins deserve more punishment." he grunts, yanking your leg up around his hip hard, a rough grasp on your thigh.

"Yes." you breathily whisper. "I still feel the lust controlling me." you purr.

"Is it? You're being awfully well contained." he whispers back, judgmental and scolding, the back of is hand running up your thigh to your hip.

"Then I will act upon it," you state clearly. "I'm aching for your cock. This little cunt is dripping for you, Alfie. I want your hands on me to be bruising, to show me how naughty I've been. To mark me as your property. I'm here to serve your lust and be shamed for mine, aren't I? Then treat me like some little strumpet. Use me. I'm your little whore, Alfie. Treat me as such." you whimper and whine, your lips ghosting against his. You reach down and stroke his cock, pushing the head against your soft wet folds.

His nostrils flare, a bull emerging with broad shoulders and punishing hands to wrap around your neck, giving it a squeeze as you play up trouble breathing. "I love that filthy mouth you have Genevieve. You dirty girl." he groans. "The things you make me want to do to you, love. Worth going to hell for." he rasps. "You make me more beast than man." he huffs air out of his nostrils and you feel the heat of it across your skin.

"Show me." you rasp out, beckoning him with wet, parted lips.

A sharp slap to your cheek surprises you. "You aren't the one making demands here," he whispers sharply. "You are here to receive me. Receive my forgiveness."

"Fill me with your love and light. Cleanse me with your forgiveness, please." you ask of him, lashed batting at him with innocence to the motion, but the way your tongue flicked across your lips show it to be anything but. "Free me." you whisper, rocking your hips against the head of his rock that had been teasing at your clit. "Show me what bliss your forgiveness grants."

"What a debauched creature you are." he moans, giving in to a harsh kiss. You feel him move fast, a sharp slap to your lips before grabbing your hips and pushing your front against the wall. You hear a brief rustling of your dress before you feel him hard and hot between your cheeks. He gives you a few stern slaps with his cock, a single run down your folds before pushing into you. He groans at the feeling, being able to sense how much you were enjoying this taboo romp as well, as he slid inside you with hardly any resistance.

Of course, you moan and it as always one of the most gorgeous sounds he'll ever hear but he slaps his hand over your mouth, the other hard on your hip, keeping them pulled away from the wall with your back arched as he pumped into you. "Gotta keep quiet, can't have the other's knowing of what a sinner you are, can we little lamb?" he hisses before a sharp slap to your arse. You let out little whimpers against his palm with each thrust, your tongue lapping at the hot skin. "Can't have one bad girl lead the rest of the flock astray can we?" he whispers before taking your earlobe between his lips, looming over you.

You murmur a response against his hand, but it doesn't matter now. He scolds you for making noise, grunting with every pound into you. He hits hard, only breaking to pull you apart, your mouth gaping open from the release, both his hands on your arse and wobbling it, watching himself move in and out of you, seeing himself slick with your wetness. "Oh fuck." you whisper, pressing your hand flat against the stable wall.

"No swearing from you, Genevieve. Naughty girl. Else I'll have to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours again." You respond with a noise of want, his fingers tighter now into the bouncing flesh of your lower half. Your tongue lolls out, the pressure building inside you, this angle always fulfilling you, especially with his adept hands and mouth to accompany it. "That what you want? Wash that hot, pink mouth out with my spunk, eh?"

"Want you to-oh, please come inside me." you whine and his eyes roll back in his head.

"That what she wants?" he lets out a devilish deep chuckle. "Full this little cunny up with me? Make your take all 'a me? Eh?" he spanks you hard and you tense and squeal, his mouth open and panting. "Leave you drippin' with it like the little whore you are for me, yeah? Gettin' fucked like this... by a man like me. You are fuckin' filthy and fuckin' love you for it." he rushes out, pushing his hips out. "Could watch me cock fuck you like this all fuckin' day love. Fuckin' perfect little flower innit ya? And this tight... little... arse of yours." He swipes his thumbs over the tensing hole and you shudder. "Fuckin' dirty girl." he whispers. He leans over you, teeth on your earlobe as he pants hot and heavy against your skin, his fingers pushing into your mouth to silence you, but you moan and starting sucking away and spanks you again. "You were askin' for it, Genny. What kinda woman would you be, eh? Gettin' buggered like this? Ought to just to teach ya a fuckin' lesson." his thumb presses against your arsehole again and your thighs shudder, moaning around his fingers again. "And you want it? Fuck me..." he rasps out, picking up speed and making you whimper, wet swollen lips around his fingers as he held your chin. Thumb circling, spreading your abundant wetness to allow his thumb to slide into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan out against his fingers.

"I 'eard that one, yeah?" he lets out a deep groan into your ear, you hear him huff into it, voice growing rougher. "All your holes filled little one." he taunts. "Showin' me what a whore you are for me... good fuckin' girl. Ya tight as fuck 'round me Genny, you gonna come, yeah?" he whispers, still hitting into you, as you hold yourself off the wall to receive as much of him as you could. "Come hard all over this cock, Gen, all fuckin' over it." he groans through gritted teeth. "You've got me so fuckin' hard, love, jesus christ." his voice cracks with the inflection. "Want you fuckin' drippin' down me fuckin' bollocks Genevieve. My lovely little whore innit ya? Just for me. A missus and a whore. Lucky. Fuckin'. Me." he snarls pressing his nose into your ear.

As it always did, his filthy mouth takes you where you need to go. He watches your eyes flutter and roll back, your hips buck, stuttering against his and it only fuels him to fuck into you harder. He wanted to have to muffle your screams, wanted to make you his by making you come so hard you cried out for him.

"Alfie." you murmur with his fingers in your mouth. He presses them farther in still.

"Don't you fuckin shout now. Else I'll have to gag you won't I?" he threatens and you moan. He thinks he hears a please to his threat and he growls, pressing his thumb in deeper, bending his knees to go as hard and fast as his body would let him.

If he didn't know your body, he would've thought something was wrong. You let your face push against the wall, drool running down his hand as he held your tongue, dripping down your chin, past those pinked lips as you made inhuman noises when he'd leave you with space to breathe. Your knees give, he presses you flat against the wall, still thrusting into you as you shake and convulse. He can feel your rings of muscle so tight around him he whines, feeling your cunt soaked for him, another wave of slick now running down his shaft and over his balls, making him throw his head back and grit his teeth to control himself. He feels your orgasm through every bit of you, your stomach spasms, thighs shivering, cunt seizing and your hands trembling against the wood they rested on. "Fuckin' 'ell Genny, yes, fuck, ya make me so fuckin' greedy for it love. Give me every last drop before I fill you back up." he pants out into your back before he can't hold back any longer. His hand moves from your mouth with a wet slick pop, a gasp from you as you bubble spit through your lips with clenched teeth to not cry out for him. He holds your hips roughly. A string on swears, you can make out "Gimme... ya... fuckin'... cunt." hissed out as he finishes inside you, a hard hit and grunt with each spasm.

You keep your noises minimal, your breathing the only loud thing in the confines of the wooden booth. Your eyes blink open with new clarity, the lust no longer blurring your vision. The red wash over your skin felt appropriate. As he came down, forehead pressing into your back, you feel him lose his tension against you, you can feel the small twitch of him inside you and you hum contently. You're hit with a moment of artistic inspiration. You envision bodies with a red wash over them, limbs against the dark grain of the wood, crosses between heavy breasts, the ends being sucked on by wet and swollen lips. Hands in prayer, pressed to bare breasts, a strong hand wrapped around the praying neck. It'd been a while since inspiration had struck you in such a way. Alfie interrupts your thoughts by clearing his throat.

"Ya okay love?" he asks, as considerate afterward as ever.

"Yes just, help me turn." you let out a huff of a laugh. He does, putting himself back into his trousers and straightening your skirt. He studies your face, licking his thumb, and wiping away the running mascara, using his handkerchief to finish the job and clear the drool from your chin.

"You look glorious in this light, Genevieve." he whispers, gentle fingers trailing down your jaw.

"You look so villainous and... beastly." you smile, tilting your head and pushing the stray strands of hair behind his ears, evening out his collar and vest. "But handsome all the same." you say with a pucker of your lips and he meets them without hesitation.

"You are a fuckin' wonder, my love." he whispers against them, now tending to your hair. "I'm the luckiest bastard alive. I know that for certain." he nods. "You are bloody brilliant. You look so fuckin'....absolutely sweet and then the things you do... oi vey Gen they're gonna kill me and I'll die with a fuckin' smile on me face." he chuckles and kisses you again.

"As long as it's me that kills you." you grin and stroke his beard. "No one else gets to kill you but me." you say with a playfully scolding tone and he lets out a deep rumbling, deeply content sound.

"No one but you, love. No one else but you." he exhales in a happy sigh.

"Because you are mine to do with as I please aren't you darling?'

"Fit to call me your whore instead." he gives a boyish chuckle.

"As long as we're only whores for each other." you nod and return the contented sound.

"Only for you." he kisses you softly. "If you feel absolved, I believe I can give a look out and see what trouble we're in." he laughs and nods his head to the door.

"Forgiven," you say with a nod. "Let's face it shall we?" you ask with a tilted head.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to you, getting a good look at each other to make sure you don't seem too disheveled. You take a deep breath and leave the confessional booth open so the smell of sex isn't so obvious. He walks quietly behind you and you stand by the pulpit, looking around and considering how you'd thought about marriage before. Within walls like these, under all that Catholic guilt you'd never wanted marriage. It was ownership to you, a cage and a sentence of servitude. But now, finding yourself, your heritage and religion all crossing paths to point you to the man in front of you, you felt so entirely the opposite about it.

"Ya alright love?" he asks, taking both your hands. "You gettin' the spirit?" he chuckles, looking up at the stained glass windows.

"I feel... yes... yes I believe I feel Christ's love." you nod and look up and he let's out a laugh.

"Well 'at's a problem for a Jew there innit?" he snorts, shaking his head at you.

"We'll just have to see how I feel after fucking in another religious place won't we?" you say with a smile.

"Genevieve..." he scolds. "I can't rightly agree to goin' at it in such a way at Temple." he scoffs.

"Not even for our Yichud?" you ask with a sparkle of innocence in your eyes and his heart melts at the mention of it.

"Ah!" he says, taking your face into his hands. "There is my sweet little Chanah again at last." he grins and kisses you softly. "Of course we will for our Yichud, my love." he hums against your lips. "But I wouldn't refer to such a thing as fuckin'." he shakes his head and you feel a flutter in your stomach for the sentiment.

"Do you plan on making love to your darling wife Alfie?" you coo, your hands on his wrists that held your face.

"I do. You will be my most precious jewel, little Chanah." he lets the romantic sentiments fall out of his mouth and into yours as he kisses you softly. It was fitting how you both felt soft after such perverse things, it opened you both up, let you feel things and inevitably it lead to romantic notions. A breaking down of one wall to push on through to another. It reflected your dual natures and he found it comforting in an odd way; knowing he had both a devil and an angel.

"Then what of the wedding night?" you ask playfully.

"I'll be so tired I'm guessing you'll be on ya own on that one." he lets out a loud laugh that you can't help but join him in. You watching his face laugh, and at his own joke nonetheless, corners of his eyes crinkled, his laugh lines deep as you smile warmly at him. Even if it did turn out that way, you didn't even mind. What a hopeless romantic you'd turned out to be.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi   @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

[sheps-shepherd]

@caffeinatedpoltergeist requested: “Asch and Natalia, flowers, secrets, midsummer” 

Look the moment I realized this wasn’t going to be a nice little 1k fic like I originally planned I just said screw it and went with it. So I hope you don’t mind a 4k prompt fill :’) 

Title: the soundtrack of my summer (you’ll always be my thunder) 

Pairing: AschNatalia, with obligatory background twin!AschLuke sibling fluff 

Rating: T 

Tags: Canon Divergent Modern AU, Love At First Sight shenanigans, Luke being a little shit to show he cares

A/N: First off, “Thunder” by Boys Like Girls is the song that inspired both the prompt fill and the title. I highly recommend giving it a listen! It’s a good song. I can’t link it because Tumblr hates links now so just YouTube it. It’s there. 

Second off, we all know Tumblr is absolutely asinine these days and lately has enjoyed eating any kind of formatting I try to put in a story. So 1) if that happens I’m really sorry and 2) I manually put in page breaks to try and avoid unreadable formatting in that scenario. I know it looks ugly. I’m calling myself out so no one else has to. You are all welcome. 

Enjoy the story! 

----

“I don’t want to leave yet.”

“We have to. It’s getting dark. We should’ve already been back by now.”

“I know. But… We’ll come back here, right?”

“Sure, we can come back tomorrow. Every day until I leave, if you want.”

“And after that?”

“It’ll still be here when I’m gone, Natalia.”

“But it won’t be the same without you.”

“...Then next summer. When I’m back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

---

It was another traditional summer in Malkuth. Even so far south of the capital, the air was still hot and sticky against Asch’s face as he gave the trunk of the car a definitive slam shut. He normally didn’t mind the heat - not as much as Luke did, anyway - but even he was starting to feel uncomfortable with the way his shirt clung to his sweaty skin and his hair stuck down to the back of his neck. He’d put his hair up the second he’d clambered out of the car, but it had only helped for the first haul of luggage. Finishing the third, Asch had caught himself eyeing his brother’s short hair enviously a time or two and wondering if it was finally time the two of them looked alike again.

“I still don’t understand why you felt the need to bring half your bedroom. We’re staying for a week, not moving in.”

Luke’s cheeks were flushed pink from the heat and exertion as he puffed them in response to Asch’s quip. “I came prepared, that’s all! I don’t remember there being any rule about only having one bag.”

“Whatever, just go bring it inside.” Asch dug the car keys of out his pocket. “And I get the shower first, so don’t even try anything.”

“What? Why do you get it first?!”

“Because I’m older, so what I say goes.” The car beeped as it locked, and Asch stuffed the keys back into place as he hefted the bag he was carrying higher up on his shoulder and started the walk back across the parking lot. He heard the rustling of fabric as Luke scrambled to grab the last of the bags he was in charge of before scurrying after.

“By ten minutes, Asch! That hardly gives you rights to boss me around!”

“And yet, that’s never stopped me, has it?”

Luke muttered something under his breath that they both knew would appall their mother to hear, and Asch was readying himself to say as much as he reached out to pull open the door to the lobby, when said door swung open, narrowly missing his nose. He reared back in surprise.

“Hey, be careful-!”

“Oh, pardon me-!”

Asch froze. So did the blonde-haired, green-eyed woman in front of him. He blinked, thinking maybe some sweat had dripped into his eyes and was messing with his vision, because there was absolutely no way that could be-

Something slammed into him from behind, sending Asch teetering forward a step. “Ow! What the hell, Asch, you’re taking up the whole sidewalk here!” When Asch didn’t shoot back a witty reply or even so much as send a glare over his shoulder, Luke must have realized something was going on, and poked his head into Asch’s peripheral. “What are you-?”

The way Luke went just as still beside him all but confirmed what Asch was thinking. And ever the little shit, he blurted out, “Hey, don’t we know you?”

“Luke!” Now Asch whipped around to glare at his brother, not realizing just how close Luke had crowded himself against his shoulder. The movement jostled the bag nestled carefully in Luke’s elbow, sending it to their feet and scattering its contents out on the sidewalk.

“Oh, shit-!”

“You idiot-!”

“Here, let me-!”

All three of them knelt down, gathering everything up before anything had a chance to roll or get swept away by the wind. At some point, Asch was reaching for a stray tube of his mother’s lipstick, and pale fingers brushed against his, too slender to be Luke’s. He looked up only to find those olive green eyes already staring back at him, and that unsettling feeling of deja vu washed over him again.

“Um. Thank you.” He snatched his hand back, lipstick tucked against his palm, and quickly stood up. He heard Luke gasp out as the bag still on his shoulder loosened enough to knock into his cheek on the way up, but the woman standing with him kept his attention on her.

“Oh, no, it was my fault you dropped your bag. I’m very sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “Um, excuse me, but I need to...” She motioned awkwardly with her hand, ducking her head as she side-stepped around him and hurried off down the sidewalk.

Asch turned his head to watch her go. He did nothing but stand there, even after he saw her climb into a car, until Luke popped back up next to him.

“Wasn’t that-?”

“Shut up, Luke.” Asch turned quickly, yanking open the door and storming his way inside, not bothering to hold it for his brother, hoping to give himself a few minutes of reprieve before the inevitable bombardment of questions.

No such luck.

“But that was her, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, you don’t,” Luke demanded. “That girl from the last time we were here? Natasha?”

“Natalia.” Even Asch cringed at how quick he made the correction.

“So it was her! And you couldn’t think of anything better to say to her?”

“Luke, it’s been seven years. She probably doesn’t even remember us.”

“I don’t know about that one, Asch. At least I’m pretty unforgettable.” Asch hiked up the bag he was carrying again, hearing Luke squeak in surprise as he tried to avoid both getting hit and falling down the stairs they were walking up. “Besides, I barely saw her back then. You’re the one that she-”

At the top of the stairs, Asch rounded on his brother, forcing him to stay on the top step to have those few inches of height over him.

“Just drop it, would you? Before we get back to the room. You’re going to get Mother worked up over nothing.”

“Are you going to talk to her?”

“No! That’s not why we’re here!”

“Right, we’re here on another dumb summer vacation to try and convince Mom that our family isn’t broken beyond repair! Asch, I swear, that summer was the last time I saw you that happy, and we both know why!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We were ten, Luke. Nothing happened. So shut the hell up about it, or so help me Lorelei I will knock your ass back down these stairs!”

It was an empty threat - mostly, anyway - but it did the job. Luke sent a glare identical to his own up at him, but kept his mouth closed. When Asch decided he was sure to keep it that way, he turned back around and headed down the hall to their room. A grumpy Luke trudged after him, but his brother’s mood was the least of Asch’s worries.

He was going to take a shower, unpack, and forget the whole ordeal ever happened. And then he was going to try and make himself have a good time on this dumb vacation until he could go back to Belkend and put this whole mess behind him.

---

Their mother had already settled down in one of the beds and was fast asleep when the knocking started on their door. Asch looked up from his phone.

“Who’s that?”

“Dunno,” Luke said, distracted by his own phone’s screen. “Maybe it’s complimentary dessert or something.” Asch shoved at him on his way up from the couch, not bothering to start the argument about which one of them should get up to answer it.

Whatever he’d been expecting when he pulled open the door, Natalia had not been it. She stood out in the hallway, wringing her hands together at her chest, staring at him wide-eyed as they came face to face for the third time that day - three times more than Asch ever expected he’d get.

“Um. Hello.”

Asch knew it was rude not to return the sentiment, but he thought maybe he could have a pass this time, because his brain was too busy thinking up all the ways he could murder his brother right here in the hotel room without waking their mother to bother considering what an appropriate response might be.

As it was, his grand gesture boiled down to a simple, “Hi.”

Natalia cleared her throat. “I… I’m sure you don’t remember me, so I apologize if this seems strange-”

“No,” Asch said quickly. “No, I remember you.” He swallowed. “Natalia.”

Her eyes lit up, and her shoulders slackened with relief. Natalia smiled up at him.

“Well, then it’s nice to see you again, Asch.”

“You too.” Before the oncoming awkward silence could make its appearance, he continued on, “Can I ask what you’re doing here? It’s getting pretty late.”

“Yes, well,” Natalia reached up and tucked a slip of blonde hair behind her ear, “I came up here to ask if you would take a walk with me. The hotel gardens are still just as beautiful, and I thought since you haven’t been in a while…” She gazed up at him so hopefully, Asch felt something twist in his chest at the sight.

“Oh. Ah, actually, I-”

“You should go, Asch,” came an infuriatingly sweet voice from behind him. “I can always stay in case Mother wakes up and needs something. Plus, you did bring in most of our stuff. You deserve a little break, you know?”

Asch’s shoulders got a little stiffer with every word out of his brother’s mouth, and he looked over his shoulder to give Luke the most acidic glare he could manage - Luke, the cheeky bastard, just grinned back at him, knowing full well he’d stolen the excuse right out of Asch’s mouth, and used his own complaints from earlier that day against him to boot.

Natalia, no doubt sensing the rising tension between the twins, cleared her throat once more. “If now isn’t a good time…” She failed to mask the disappointment in her voice, and Asch knew he wasn’t being very courteous by making her feel so awkward in the midst of his and his brother’s silent feud.

“No,” he said, turning back to her. “No, now is fine. A walk through the gardens sounds nice.” Her face began to glow again, and she gave him another smile, and Asch knew he’d made the right choice. She stepped back as he came out of the room, and with one last look at his idiot twin’s smirking face, Asch shut the door.

That was how he found himself back outside, the air a little less stifling with the sun setting overhead. The sky was orange, but the quaint lampposts lined throughout the gardens were already shining, and Asch had to admit, it really was nice. He found he really didn’t remember much of what he saw as he and Natalia made their way around, but he did recall the green-painted bench that Luke had jumped off the back of and almost cracked his head open on, and the large map of the garden’s layout in the very center where he distantly remembered meeting the very girl beside him. If he noticed that Natalia lingered there when they came to it, he didn’t say anything about it.

They made small talk, only slightly awkward, mostly just asking about each other’s lives. They were both finishing their last year of high school - she was older than him, Asch had forgotten - and had both been on student council. He played the piano, she was learning flute. He liked to cook, she could barely make a passable grilled cheese. He had his mother and younger brother to take care of, she was planning on moving into her own apartment after graduation.

“But aren’t you and Luke still the same age? Surely he can take care of himself?”

“Please never say that in front of him. He’ll do something stupid, like believe you.”

He’d thought maybe that had been a bit offending, but it made her laugh - a rich and warm sound that carried away on the breeze and made the twist in Asch’s chest pull a little tighter.

He was in the middle of a story about some stupid thing Luke had done a few weeks ago when he realized that they weren’t on Choral Castle’s grounds anymore. They had apparently long since passed through the hotel’s gates, and not only that, but Natalia had gone strangely quiet, no longer making soft noises of affirmation to assure him she was listening. In fact, she seemed to be looking around dazedly, like she was waiting for something to jump out at her-

Asch stopped walking, voice catching in his throat. Natalia continued a few steps without him before realizing he’d broken their synchronization and stopped herself.

“Asch?”

“This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

Natalia didn’t seem surprised by his outburst at all. She seemed more relieved by it, if anything.

“So you remember it, too.”

“It can’t still be here. It’s been years, Natalia, someone else probably found it and-”

“No, it’s still there. I check every time I come here, just to be sure.” Asch didn’t have time to press her for details before she was suddenly stepping off the path they’d been walking, climbing into the brush. “The entrance is right over here.”

“Hey, wait, you shouldn’t-” But Natalia ducked beneath some overhanging branches and disappeared into the greenery. Asch saw a few flashes of her blonde hair, and then she was gone, ignoring his calls for her to come back.

He looked up at the sky; it had morphed from orange to a smokey purple. It would be dark soon, and they still had to make the walk back, and he’d be damned if he let her get far enough away from him and make her go back alone. He poked through the mess of greenery, trying to find the path Natalia had made for herself, and followed her into the brush.

He came out the other side into an open clearing, remembering at the last moment the dip in the ground that he used to always trip on, and widely stepping over it. Natalia was waiting for him by the stone wall that ran along the far side of the area, visibly pleased to see him coming.

“Natalia, we shouldn’t be out here-”

“But we already are, so we might as well have a little visit, shouldn’t we?”

Asch glanced down at the crumbled section of the wall, the debris from whatever had wrecked it long since cleared away, leaving an opening between the stone. An opening he remembered being ten and climbing through, every day for a week that one fateful summer.

“You can’t be serious. We won’t be able to fit through there.”

“Excuse you. I fit through just fine, thank you.”

Asch deadpanned. “Last time I checked, I’m a bit bigger than you are. There’s no way.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

“Natalia, it’s late. We’re already going to have to walk back in the dark. We shouldn’t waste anymore time.”

“Fine, then you can go back to the hotel if you’d like. I’d like to visit this place again.” Asch moved to get to her, but she was quicker, crouching down and sliding into the opening feet-first, pushing herself through - she was too far in by the time he reached the wall to try and pull her out.

“Natalia!” he called out, but there was no response. She was really going to make him go in after her. Perfect.

Sighing, Asch crouched down to get a look at the opening. It would be a tight squeeze for sure, but if he wiggled enough, he could probably manage to make it. At least, he hoped he would. Exhaling a curse, Asch ducked beneath the stone and began to climb through.

It was definitely a tight squeeze - it was just barely wide enough to fit his shoulders, and he had to catch himself on his hands to pull his legs through once he’d wormed his top half out. But once he was fully through and back on his feet, he looked up and-

Oh.

Oh, he’d forgotten how beautiful this place was. Not because he didn’t remember, but because his memories didn’t do it justice.

Their secret garden, they’d called it. A vast open field completely covered in flowers and plants wherever there was soil to be found. There were a few boulders to break up the floral monotony, and at the very end of it all was the cliff that overlooked the sea they used to hang their feet off of. The sound of rushing water and crashing waves filled his ears, and while the smell of pollen and flower petals was overwhelming, it sparked more memories in Asch’s head, reminding him of how everything had been the last time he was here.

Natalia had made herself comfortable in a certain patch of flowers, gently running her hands along the plants that surrounded her. She was watching him quietly, letting him have his moment before softly saying, “Welcome back.”

Asch stared at her for a long while before making his way over to her. “You’ve been back here, then,” he murmured, sitting himself down beside her. “Before now.”

She hummed softly, looking down at the blossoms around her knees. “Every summer since you left,” she admitted. “Though I gave up on waiting for you quite a while ago.”

Asch had known the topic would be brought up eventually. He hadn’t expected it to feel like such a blow to the chest to hear it, though.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I suppose it was silly to place such a heavy burden onto you when we were children. There were many things we had no control over, back then.” Her gaze flicked up, and she reached for him. “You have leaves stuck in your hair.”

Her fingers gently slipped through the long red strands of his hair, pulling the bits of foliage stuck there free with crinkling sounds that echoed loudly in his ears. Asch let her fuss over him, finding a blooming white flower nestled in the field in front of him to rest his eyes on.

“Luke got sick,” he said quietly. Natalia’s fingers faltered, pulled a little too hard on his hair and sent a tiny spark of pain down his neck. “My mother, she wanted to move to Belkend, so we’d be closer to his doctors in case something happened. My father refused to leave Baticul, because of his job and whatever the hell other excuses he made. So Mother packed Luke and I up herself and we left. And then, when the divorce went through…” He shrugged. “We just stayed there.”

“I remember trying to find you in Baticul for a while. You’d told me you lived there. Though I’m sure I would have ended up empty-handed, even if you had still been in the city.” Asch nodded dazedly. “...Is Luke okay now?”

“He’s fine. He’ll be on medication for the rest of his life, but at least it’ll be a long one.”

“I had no idea he’d ever been so sick. You truly can’t tell, he seemed perfectly normal when we spoke today-” One of Natalia’s hands flew from his hair to her mouth. “Ah, I mean-!”

Asch gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. Luke’s not half as sneaky as he likes to think he is. I knew he had something to do with this the moment I saw you outside my door.”

Even in the fading light, he could see the blush that painted Natalia’s cheeks. “I-I’m sorry about this morning. My father and I come back here every summer, I wasn’t expecting to suddenly see you here… I wasn’t even sure I really had seen you, until Luke came and talked to me.”

“Trust me, the feeling was mutual. I think a part of me still thinks I’m dreaming this right now.”

“Well, if this is a dream, I’m not sure I ever want to wake up.” She smiled bashfully at him. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I’d thought you’d forgotten about me after a while.”

Asch didn’t know what possessed him to bring his hand to her cheek, but he did, smoothing his thumb along her pinkened skin. Natalia barely flinched at the contact, and more so out of surprise than discomfort - the space between them was darkening fast. “No,” he said softly. “Never.”

Natalia reached up to rest her hand over his, her fingers slipping easily into the spaces left between his. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “This place never did feel the same without you.”

It felt natural to pull her close, like there was absolutely nothing else he could do besides kiss her. Her lips were warm against his in the cooling night air, chasing away the damp chill of the earth beneath them that had sank into his skin, untwisting the mess of denial and uncertainty that had knotted itself into his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled when he pulled back, only as much as he had to, “I didn’t-”

“Please don’t be.” She shifted closer to him, slid her arms around his neck. “If you hadn’t done it soon, I would have done it myself.” He had to chuckle at that, and she beamed, and her lips tasted so much better when she was smiling.

---

They stayed in the garden for a while longer, enjoying the privacy and making up for lost time. But when Asch’s phone told them it was well past midnight not counting the walk back they still had ahead of them, he finally convinced Natalia it was time to go. Back through the stone opening they went, Natalia giggling as she watched Asch worm his way through again, and that led to the first of many detours - detours that made the ten minute walk back to Choral Castle another ten minutes longer, but Asch found he really didn’t mind. Considering it was Natalia starting most of them, he figured she didn’t either.

He walked her to her room when they finally arrived back at the hotel, standing in the hallway outside her door with their fingers still laced together.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?” she asked him. “I’d love to meet your mother, and catch up with Luke.”

“Tomorrow.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “Sounds like a good place to start.”

Natalia’s smile was bright in the dimmed light of the hallway as Asch kissed her goodnight.

When he climbed up the stairs to head back to his own room, he found Luke sitting outside the door waiting for him. His brother scrambled to his feet when he saw him coming.

“I didn’t wanna call and interrupt anything,” he explained, “but I also didn’t expect you to stay out so long and I was getting kinda worried and…” Luke shrugged helplessly. “How did it go?”

“Next time I tell you to drop something, drop it, you hear me?” Luke’s face fell, and because Asch was in a particularly good mood, he decided he’d let his little twin off the hook this time around. “She wants to have breakfast with you and Mother tomorrow morning.”

Luke’s expression did a complete one-eighty as Asch stepped around him to get to the door. “So it went well then?”

“It was fine, no thanks to you.”

“Well tell me what happened!”

“No way. Mind your own business.”

“Asch! You know I’ll just use our twin telepathy on you if you don’t tell me!”

“Luke, how many times do I have to tell you, we aren’t psychic just because we’re twins.”

And as Luke went off on his latest tangent, Asch walked into their room with his phone nestled in his pocket - and Natalia’s number tucked safely away inside.

---

“You know, we could take Luke here one day before you leave, if you’d like.”

“I share everything with Luke. This can be our little secret, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[vanicanela18]

Seeing as I decided to open a tumblr with not even a miserable new fanfic, I’ll post an old work of mine that you can also view in AO3, just so I don’t have the blog too empty.

Title: new glasses.

Fandom: Banana Fish.

Summary: Eiji and Sing go to buy glasses.

Major Character Death

Relationship: Okumura Eiji & Sing Soo Ling (platonic).

Characters: Okumura Eiji, Sing Soo Ling, Ash Lynx.

Other tags: Manga spoilers, Pre-Garden of Light, Angst, comfort/hurt

“What about these?”

Sing ponders Eiji’s appearance and analyzes the soft features of his face, dark eyes behind the thick, ebony frame of the glasses he’s trying out. Apparently it’s a new model that’s being plenty popular among young people, modern and elegant, but Sing shakes his head.

“They don’t suit you. Too thick. You look weird.”

Eiji lets out a long-suffering sigh, passing a hand through his already disarrayed hair. When he rolls his eyes, a sign of his increasing irritation, it’s obvious the hour they have spent trying out glasses is starting to wear him out. Sing bites his bottom lip to contain a smirk from betraying his amusement.

“You’re being far pickier than I would’ve thought,” declares the man, closing his eyes and massaging his temples, a habit he’s picked from the many weeks he spent suffering from headaches until Sing forced him to go to the medic.

“Well, it’s your fault for asking for my help.”

“I thought it would be quicker if I had someone else to help me decide.” Eiji turns, taking off the glasses, but Sing can tell he’s trying to contain a smile. He’s always been quick to forgive, too kind to hold grudges. “I didn’t know you had such a fashion sense that you would reject every frame I’ve tried for the past hour.”

Sing shrugs, cringing internally when he reasons that Yut-Lung must be rubbing off on him. “It’s strange to see you with glasses.”

Sing doesn’t explain how most of the frames change Eiji’s face and make him look older, accentuating the lines around his eyes and the growing hair that nowadays he has to tie in a half up-do to keep it away from his face. He doesn’t elaborate in how, although it has already been four years since his death, they seem to make him more closed off and lonely.

There are also those who are really awful though and Sing wonders how they can even be in exhibition, let alone sell.

“Maybe I should just stick with contacts,” muses Eiji with the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of his lips, walking away to give the rejected glasses to the exhausted clerk that has evidently lost hope they will find something to buy that day.

“Maybe,” he agrees quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. He listens to Eiji and the clerk discussing about the cost of contacts lenses absently, focusing in the soft cadence of Eiji’s voice and not the words spoken while he watches the countless frames the optic has in store. A frame, silver and thin, catches his eye even though it’s almost hidden behind a few other thicker and more colorful glasses.

His breath catches in his throat.

“Sing, I think I’ll decide to purchase contacts lenses or else I will spend the rest of my life in this shop,” says Eiji, approaching him, but Sing has to blink a few times and remind himself to breathe to get rid of the ghost behind his eyelids. The Japanese young man frowns, noticing his eyes fixed on the glasses.

“Oh? What is it? You found some glasses you like?”Before he can dismiss it, Eiji follows his gaze. He hears a tiny, quiet gasp when his eyes lock with the glasses and Sing’s heart crumbles.

The change is immediate. Eiji’s body turns rigid; his eyes are hazed and mind lost in a memory that even though Sing doesn’t understand he recognizes it for what it is: a ghost that still doesn’t free Eiji from his chains, one that he doesn’t even want to escape from.

The glasses are identical to the ones Ash held in his hand that day in the library. Sing never saw him wearing them, but he’s certain Eiji did.

“We should go,” whispers Sing, alarmed, and though his voice was as gentle as he could possibly muster it to be Eiji startles violently, as if woken up from a nightmare.

“Sir,” the clerk calls uncertainly, holding a box of contact lenses in her left hand, “are you going to buy the contacts then?”

Sing ignores her, grabbing Eiji’s hand cautiously and squeezing it gently. It’s cold and slightly sweaty, but the grip seems to ground him and he blinks slowly, eyes brimming with tears.

Eiji lets go of his hand, fingers slipping through his like water, and approaches the frame. Sing watches him helplessly, clenching his jaw. His hands tremble when he lifts them to touch the glasses.

“I had… forgotten…” he mumbles, voice odd and full of emotion, “I had forgotten he used to… wear glasses… a frame just like this one.”

Sing curses under his breath.

“Do you… want to try them out, sir?” asks the clerk, her tone hesitatingly hopeful and totally oblivious to the increasing tension in the air. “They’re a bit of an old model, you see, but I’m sure they’ll look…”

“I’m taking them.” Eiji’s words possess an edge he had a long time without hearing, and just like that Sing knows it’s useless to try to argue with him. The clerk beams while relief exudes from her, grabbing the frame and putting it in its case along with the paper that has scribbled the crystals’ formula. He sighs deeply, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat and waiting for Eiji to pay.

The walk home is silent. Sing tries to ignore Eiji’s quiet sniffles, the sound of his sleeves rubbing against his eyes to contain the overflowing tears. He knows physical contact in this moment is not welcome and there is nothing he can do unless he wants him to have a meltdown in the middle of the street.

As soon as they arrive in the apartment Eiji locks himself up in his room and Sing knows firsthand he won’t be out for dinner. Nevertheless, he stays, ignoring the knot that tightens painfully in his stomach and playing absentmindedly with Buddy.

The ghosts during the night will be too present for Eiji to be alone. And, maybe, they will be for Sing too.

Two weeks later, when Sing arrives to the apartment for dinner, Eiji is waiting for him. When he locks his gaze with his, Sing has the feeling that Eiji’s not really looking at him, and the suspicion is confirmed in the dullness that resides in his eyes.

He’s holding something in his hands.

“I went to pick them up today,” he explains quietly, without any welcome home or how was your day, “would you tell me how they look?”

“You should’ve done that before you bought them,” he replies halfheartedly. Eiji smiles something that looks more like a grimace, painful and twisted.

“Just do it, please.”

Sing nods and guilt swirls in his stomach. He knows it’s his fault. If he had said yes to the previous glasses and wouldn’t have been so picky he never would’ve spotted those cursed glasses in the first place and sent Eiji in a spiral of memories and ghosts. Eiji is strong, but there is so much that a person can bear.

When he puts them on, maybe the worst thing is that they actually look good on him.

The curves of the glasses complement the gentle lines of Eiji’s face, the thin silver frame standing out against his raven hair. They make him look slightly older, more mature. Sing has heard about people that look more beautiful with glasses, and although he didn’t believe it now he thinks it might be true.

Eiji looks up at him and something clears in his eyes, now the chestnut color a warmer, more present shade. He knows that it is him experiencing a sharper world after months of a steadily blurring sight, but Sing has always liked pretending.

He tries to smile.

“They suit you just fine.”

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Synchronicity 16

Notes: After hitting brick wall, restructure! So, that one’s a bit of Frankenstein’s Monster. Introducing: Remnant, references to past happenings that were supposed to be referenced much, much later, and morally (VERY) questionable actions (if you get the reference). Jack’s still high on morphine.

Previous parts under this one link: gyromitra-esculenta(.)tumblr(.)com/post/173374189022/synchronicity-15

Jack grimaces when from behind the APC a figure shambles out, a man in a stained dress shirt with a suitcase held in his right hand. Something unsettling in how strangely his neck twists to the left.

"I wonder, Sunshine," the Beast teases, "fight or flight?"

***

(…) And all I see is war path ahead of me Each and every step I welcome readily And if my lack of fear bring the death of me Let the spirits of my ancestors envelop me (…)

His fingers still grip the rifle, the knuckles white on the dark surface of the gun, and he still stares into dark crimson eyes. The last words reverberate between them – him and the Beast – the talk of ashes and charred bones left in their collective wake somehow does not sound like merely a pretty metaphor anymore. Jack swallows back another question and slowly lifts himself off the floor.

The walker is gone in the minutes that had trickled by and he tries somehow to justify its lack of awareness of his own position – was he shielded by the structure or was a single signature not worth the hassle, or, maybe, the interference had messed with the mech’s systems?

There is also a different possibility, one that now is not as far-fetched as one would imagine otherwise, and he knows it’s the morphine talking as he glances back to the Beast.

"I’m dead, aren’t I?"

"Now, what makes you say such a thing, Sunshine?" The Beast tilts its maw to the side, playfully contrarian – yet under the light timbre something darker lurks with the intensity of razor-sharp fangs biting into the nape of his neck.

"This is limbo. Tartarus. The ceaseless punishment," Jack shakes his head, picks up the pace.

"Do tell me, Sunshine, how does one escape from such a predicament?" The Beast now keeps his stride slinking forward at his side, the words simultaneously mocking and paternalistic.

"One doesn’t."

"One doesn’t unless one has their own guide," the Beast chortles.

"I don’t remember ever being so goddamn fucking vague."

"You’re learning yet, Sunshine. You're learning yet."

"Goddamn fucking morphine," Jack murmurs. His vision is focused and swimming at the same time. His breath coils around his tongue with a taste of rusted iron. "If you're my guide, I'm fucking lost."

"Oh, Sunshine, did I ever aspire to such a title?" The barbwire lull of the laughter pierces his ears together with the roar of the fire, and the smell of burning plastic and artificial fabrics suddenly becomes dominant. The plane.

One wing is broken off and missing, the other is buried deep in a collapsed building. The fuselage is smashed into three neat pieces - the tail rests sideways on the street.

The inside of the craft is still on fire and the asphalt is soaked by fuel. No bodies. No blood. The luggage is strewn around. No body parts. Nothing. There's a ripped in half pink suitcase in front of him with a small plastic hand sticking out of the bundled clothes.

"Who's there? Please!" A woman. Jack turns towards the voice and a greenish silhouette swivels there with its hands outstretched as if fumbling in the darkness. A child cries. "Please, say something!"

"They're all dead," Jack whispers taking a step back.

"Yes, they are, and it was us who killed them, Sunshine, or did you so conveniently forget?" The Beast seethes with smug satisfaction. "Only ash and charred bones, no evidence and no witnesses," it hisses as it focuses the glare of its crimson eyes on him, like he is a mere insect under its scrutiny, "this is what remains in our wake. This is," it bares its fangs in a feral growl as it punctuates every word, "what we are, what we were, and what we are to become yet again."

"No," Jack backs further, a stumbling step after a stumbling step, away from the encroaching darkness that swallows him only to spit him out in a green-lit hell. "No."

His fingers move over the panel covered with a delicate synthetic mesh designed to evaporate on blast. A child cries. The explosive arms without a sound. The goggles give him fleeting vertigo with a split-second delay of the processed image.

"Please, say something!" The woman moves in his direction, slightly off to the side, and Jack evades her. The carpet muffles his steps. "I know someone's here!"

The child is still crying. A man screams in anger somewhere down the corridor.

"One. Two. Three. Boom," the Beast intones with a static of bad reception raising in the background - its voice morphs into that of a newscaster, "...that Mehdi Benjelloun has just claimed the responsibility for the bombing for..."

White noise. Everything drowns in white noise. The clock is ticking. The hands do not move, do not even strain, and the room is white.

"Mr. Morrison," the psychiatrist whose name he cannot recall smiles, the kind of impersonal smile one could expect from a professional detached from the situation. "Did the change in the prescription have any adversarial effects? Any notable differences you have experienced regarding your frame of mind?"

The Beast stings behind his teeth, scrapes the sides of his throat, looks through his eyes.

"No. Can’t think of any. Can’t…" Jack turns his gaze to the tree in the painting hanging above the vibrant ficus to his left, to the maelstrom of the painted sky behind it. The rapid strokes of the brush give it an illusion of a slow deliberate motion. "Felt worse for the first week but I don’t think I really thought about killing myself since then."

"That’s good to hear," the man types something on the keyboard.

"You redecorated."

"Excuse me?"

"This picture, it’s new. It’s different from the one before."

The doctor looks at him quizzically, maybe even slightly alarmed. The Beast whispers of danger, a hissing kind of murmur seeping into his thoughts.

"And what do you see in the picture, Mr. Morrison?"

"Morbid landscape with a tree," Jack swallows, eyes darting to the other side, searching for a route of escape from some undefined peril that now sits heavy on his shoulders. Its claws dig deep enough below his collarbone to draw blood that seeps through and stains the fabric.

"Visual hallucinations. This merits additional evaluation." The man extends his hand under the desk and the Beast roars in fury, it roars as everything is white noise again.

The white room. The chair is covered in dark rust, no - not rust - old dried blood, cracking and flaking off. The infernal ticking thunders louder and louder until he wants to scream just to drown it away.

"Getting lost in your own head again, Sunshine? We can't have that, not yet," the Beast whispers. "Inhale." Inhale. "Count." Count to five. Count against the ticking. Don't lose focus. "Exhale." He exhales, slowly pushes the air out of his lungs. "Remember..."

"Remember my training," Jack repeats opening his eyes - when had he closed them? The plane is yet again in front of him but in the meantime, he must have passed it. The cockpit looks almost intact - if not for the missing panes of glass and something still sparking inside.

He's hunched behind a concrete barrier - it seems the street had been closed off to the traffic before. Jack leans to the side to observe the plaza. There are several cars and a bus, one unmarked APC lying on its side. Recreational area primarily. He can see a bright red restaurant umbrella halfway thrown through a display window. A lot of bodies on the ground he can safely identify as Blackwatch personnel.  

Jack grimaces when from behind the APC a figure shambles out, a man in a stained dress shirt with a suitcase held in his right hand. Something unsettling in how strangely his neck twists to the left.

"I wonder, Sunshine," the Beast teases, "fight or flight?"

The man turns away and Jack mentally reconstructs the area mapping the best route. He licks his lips, runs his tongue over the chapped skin. Changes the grip on the Patten and moves hunched - eyes darting between the man and the ground - trying to find safe footing. Seconds he measures in breaths trickle by as he makes his way towards an overturned cart painted with happy pastels now greyed with settled ash.  

Jack stops to take another look at his surroundings. Crumbled building blocks the nearest street - he could climb over the rubble but the prospect is risky especially if he wants to avoid meeting the civilian or whatever else the man with the suitcase actually is.

Slowly, as the figure disappears behind the APC, Jack raises. Maybe he can circle him. A blink, and the man stands before him in a cloud of swirling black ash. No. Not a man anymore. Something that used to be human. The lower jaw is missing, the eyes are white, the broiled skin sloughs off the meat.

The creature shrieks with an unearthly tone; the wave of sound hits with a multitude of stabs and knocks the breath out of him. Jack falters and almost drops the rifle, scrambles to regain his composure.

Twisting tendrils of purplish light lash out but not towards him, no, to the side, and with growing dread he sees a body dragged upwards with the entrails flopping from under the vest, and limbs swinging in disjointed tugs like a ragdoll shaken erratically by attached strings. It raises the gun and turns towards him. Jack ducks behind the collapsed decorative gazebo. Bullets thunder against the cement.

A shriek again, his vision darkness for a second, and another body joins in the puppet dance. Shots spray wildly in a wide swipe rising clusters of dust where they hit.

Jack emerges quickly from the side and aims at the closest enemy. Two shots send the helmet flying, the third one shatters the brow, and the glowing tethers snap as the body hits the ground.

It’s not enough, the strings spring out from the creature anew and latch onto the fallen cadaver, sink and dig into the flesh, and bring it upright again.

"A resourceful abomination, isn’t she?" The Beast rumbles with glee, its presence growing, enveloping him, and mucous darkness shifting against his skin. The taste of mildew and rot steals into his mouth. "She tests our patience. We will kill her."

"We will kill her," Jack echoes as yet another puppet joins the fray.

"We will grind down her bones between our teeth," the Beast purrs. Claws rest over his hands, and then he runs between the bullets sailing with deadly grace through the air.

The Beast keeps his pace; the loud empty thumps explode in the sudden eerie silence as its paws hit against the pavement rising up clouds of ash. It bares its fangs, its maw low to the ground, and then it jumps through the motionless air swamped in the iridescent afterglow.

The Beast’s jaws close around the creature’s neck with a nauseating crunch. It turns and twists thrashing its head from side to side until meat, tendons, and bones separate. Mutilated head rips off and freezes midflight in the air.

With a snap, the movement resumes. Hunks of meat hit the ground with wet squelches, the violet tendrils dissipate, and the risen corpses fall over once again.

The Beast roars triumphantly, and Jack, with his hands buried to the elbows in the creature’s clawed apart chest smiles mirroring its expression: all teeth and savagery.

[sparxwrites]

An old fandom friend @stardustandseas asked for some Caleb whump recs, so here!! Have forty eight of my personal favourites (alongside some quality angst-fic because that’s in the general spirit of whump, too). Feel free to reblog this post and add your own faves / plug your own writing! And I’m sure more excellent hurt!Caleb and sad!Caleb will be written in the future, so I may reblog this and add to it at some point.

If one of your fics is listed here and you’d like your tumblr url added to the credits, drop me a message and I’ll try to do so.

(Please check the tags/warnings on the fic itself. I’ve tried to tag for spoilers as best I can - I’m counting spoilers as Caleb backstory stuff and recent [as of August 2018] campaign developments. I’ve not tagged triggers on these, but several involve graphic descriptions of violence, sexual assault, and other similar upsetting things – such is the nature of whump.)

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“Betrothed” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; 70k WIP]

After nearly a decade of war, Archmage Caleb Widogast has brokered a peace with the Xhorasian empire. It comes at the cost of his hand in marriage. They send the Nonagon, leader of their bloodhunters, to marry him. He wasn't expecting a beautiful tiefling. He wasn't expecting Mollymauk Tealeaf.

[A truly delicious mix of slow-burn relationship, sexual tension and pining, and ongoing physical health issues and angst on Caleb’s side. It’s both soothing and emotionally satisfying, it’s currently my “save to read before going to bed” fic, and I love it so much.]

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“the mist upon the hill” by BucketofWater (@ereborslionheart) [Caleb/Molly; 80k WIP]

Caleb is a mottled canvas of thin, white lacerations so many that Nott can hardly begin to count them all, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Or, the soulmate au where some soulmates share injuries and Caleb is very tired and very sore.

[My other current “save to read before going to bed” fic. It’s got everything – slow-burn, soulmates, angst, Caleb trying to hide his injuries, miscommunication… I also adore this one and honestly, the whump is just so satisfying.]

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“Traveling Hearts” by CatKing_Catkin (@pangurbanthewhite) [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 117k

A figure from Lucien's past shows up to collect on an old arrangement. When Molly doesn't want to talk business, the stranger takes him and the Mighty Nein for himself instead.

Caleb is only just able to get Jester to safety in time. But when the rest of his friends fall victim to their captor's vampiric thrall, that leaves him trapped and alone against the twisted attentions and easy cruelty of a wizard more powerful than he's ever dreamed of being.

Jester struggles to understand her enemies and make a plan of attack. Her friends are counting on her to save them, even if some of them don't know it anymore, and so she is determined to be the light in the darkness for them and all the people of Tanner's Crossing.

With a little bit of magic and a little bit of research and a whole lot of determination as they fight their own battles, Caleb and Jester might just save their friends before they lose themselves in the bargain.

[I’m… genuinely unsure if anything I could say about this fic would do it justice. Please, please read it if you haven’t already, because I adore everything about it and it’s delightful and stressful and upsetting and plotty and incredibly whumpy aahhh. I’d probably put it in the top ten fics I’ve ever read, which is high praise indeed.]

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“The Trauma Cafe” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; major spoilers; 114k WIP]

There's a cafe that specializes in rehabilitating people with trauma. That cafe was home to Mollymauk Tealeaf. Now it's home to cult survivor Caleb Widogast.

[Another of the big campaign two fics that I suspect is something of a fandom classic by now. It’s less whump and more angst, past whump, and recovery, but I do suspect there might be some whump in the next few chapters. We’ll see. You absolutely have to read it, though, as with the above three.]

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“The Mighty Fieber” by hufflepirate (@hufflepirate) [Gen; (major?) spoilers; 13k]

When Caleb gets very sick, the rest of the Nein take care of him. The fever draws some of Caleb's issues to the front, but if Beau can figure out how to use punching for medicinal purposes, she can figure out how to talk about feelings. Maybe. Caleb isn't used to being cared about, but sometimes if it's masked enough, he can navigate it anyway.

[Hey you know how good the “comes down with a fever and people don’t notice at first, and then they do and are really scared by how ill the person is” trope is? This fic is basically Entirely That.]

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“starwalker” by ashinan (@ashinan) [Gen; 8k]

Those whose souls are claimed by the Fey are to be feared. Briderall learns this lesson the night Caleb is taken.

[There’s only a little whump in this, but it’s high quality whump, and the rest of the fic is so fucking good honestly. I adore terrifying unknowable eldritch creatures that dote on humans so...]

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“Oversharing” by Verity_Kindle [Caleb/Fjord; 7k]

When a spell goes wrong, the group tries to deal with the fallout. Fjord’s biggest concern is for Caleb’s well-being, while Caleb’s is...complicated.

Otherwise titled, Why Magic and Secrets Don’t Mix: The Autobiography of Caleb Widogast.

[Old and now jossed, but I still love it - accidental / uncontrollable telepathy is such a good fic conceit, and this one has it in spades. Somewhat au since this was written with the first few eps of the new campaign, iirc, but I adore it nonetheless.]

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“More Than This” by CatKing_Catkin (@pangurbanthewhite) [Gen; spoilers; 22k]

The Empire got a lot more unfriendly towards “unauthorized” mages, after the attack. Molly hadn’t even been aware that “unauthorized” mages were a thing beforehand, but suddenly they were. That was just the way things worked in the Empire, now more than ever, and it was one more thing The Mighty Nein had to roll with.

(Or, post Episode 12, the Mighty Nein get in trouble with the law by virtue of being a group containing a goblin, two tieflings, and a couple of mages. Caleb pulls off some heroics to let them get away, and by the time they find him again he's been hit with the Feeblemind spell as punishment. Rather fumbling attempts at coping ensue while the rest of the group tries to fix things.)

[I honestly can’t remember a Huge amount about this, but I remember it being angsty and kind and gentle, and I remember loving it. It’s also written by CatKing, and I love All their stuff, so that’s a point in its favour. Plus, feeblemind has such good angst and h/c potential tbh.]

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“This is Not an Asphyxiation Kink” by Catzgirl (@fenesvir) [Caleb/Fjord; 3.5k]

Caleb is hiding some secrets from the gang, and they come back to haunt him at the very worst of times. Fjord is there to catch him.

[Hey remember when we were all convinced that Caleb had been waterboarded / drowned at some point, and was terrified of water? That was a good time tbh.]

and, from the same series, “The Leaving of Caleb Widogast” [Caleb/Fjord; 31k]

When there's no way out, Caleb makes his own.

[This is… honestly, very fucking good, and gripped me the whole way through. A beautiful mix of Caleb’s PoV and the panic of the others trying to find him, engaging all the way through to the climax.]

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“the sea, take us back” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 9k]

The sea says: You are not welcome here. This place is not for you.

Caleb Widogast fights with everything he has to get back what was once ripped from him.

[A fun twist on the “Caleb is a werewolf” theory that everyone had at one point. Or, well. Not so fun for Caleb, but fun for the whump fans. Very intense and dramatic, very satisfying ending.]

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“confession / absolution” by duckbunny (@duckbunny) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 8k]

Molly risks a glance over his shoulder – Caleb is a private kind of man, he won’t want to be stared at – and sees eyes so wide that Molly might have been ten foot of venom and claws. “No,” he says, slowly, “I don’t think you want to be alone. What’s up?"

[More emotional h/c and angst than whump, technically, but a favourite so I’m including it anyways. Also has some really nice smut as an added bonus, which is always fun.]

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“[untitled]” by words-writ-in-starlight (@words-writ-in-starlight) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

viciousmaukeries asked: Molly/Caleb, both of them injured, waking up beside each other. hell, maybe there's even a cave-in somewhere in there?

[Both Caleb and Molly whump, my favourite combination!]

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“Suggestion” by pok3d3x (@tamiyos-pokedex) [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 6k]

In a world where mind altering magic is cheap, it's unwise to drink alone. The Mighty Nein step in to protect Caleb a little late.

[Caleb gets magic-roofied, and the team closes ranks to protect him and deal with the emotional fallout. Very intense and at times upsetting, but a delightful, emotional read.]

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“Everything’s Coming Up Flowers” by thismagichour (@calebwidogasts) [Caleb/Fjord; 5k]

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the victim coughs up flower petals until the love is requited, or death.

Caleb loves Fjord, to the point that it's literally killing him.

[I’m always a slut for the Hanahaki disease trope, which is a cross between soulmates and whump in the best way. Also, this list is uhh… super Widomauk-heavy, so it’s nice to have a wee bit of variation.]

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“till the last flower” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 8k]

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.

Caleb Widogast is heartbroken and very tired.

[Hey look, I did say I’m a slut for this trope…]

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“swallow up the flame like me” by words-writ-in-starlight (@words-writ-in-starlight) [Gen; major spoilers; 8k]

It has been nine days since Fjord, Jester, and Yasha disappeared in silence and left nothing behind them but blood and scuffed grass. When the rest of the Mighty Nein manages to capture someone who might have information, Caleb decides it's time to take things into his own hands and convinces Beau to let him.

[Not… technically whump but it’s such a nice, angsty, awful emotional portrait that I can’t help but include it…]

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“a country far away as health” by LoosePilgrim [Gen; major spoilers; 2.6k]

In the fall of a certain year, in the north of a certain kingdom, a man took a body to a box and laid the body inside. He walked away from the body, and the body stayed there for many years.

When the body had been a boy (a man; a boy) it had had a good memory.

The body in the box had a good memory too. Here is what the body remembers:

[Kinda experimental and very weird - ymmv on whether it counts as whump, technically speaking - but, as with all the other kid-of-whump things on here, I love it, so. It’s staying.]

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“be gone” by mnemememory [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 3k]

Beau has had this conversation before, in a different place, with a different man.

(or; beau walks out of a cupboard, and can't seem to find her way back)

[I’m… legit unsure if this should be on here, but it’s gorgeously written, and grindingly dark and unhappy, so I think it’s earned its place.]

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“Disguise Self” by Agrotera (@agrotera-ilisos) [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 10k]

“Even huddled beneath a cold, driving rain, Zadash was a brilliant city. It wasn’t substantially larger than the other cities Molly had visited when he was with the circus, nor was it especially more beautiful. The people certainly weren’t kinder. It stank of mud and horse dung, and the rain only helped to make the smell all the more oppressive. But there were little carts that lined the main avenues, and the proprietors of those little carts would sell you a bladder of still-hot mulled wine and an armful of cardamom and pistachio pastries for two silver coins and a smile.

All things considered—the gnolls, the fool bandits, the gods-be-twice-fucked weather—Molly couldn’t complain.”

It's their first night in Zadash, and Molly needs to get away. Caleb, unsure of Molly's motives, follows him.

[Less whump and more a character portrait with hints of past whump and trauma, with a copious helping of smut, but I love it, it’s on here, deal with it etc. etc. Honestly, I spent the whole time reading this sighing dreamily with delight at the perfect mix of sexy and Concerning, so like. You know it’s gotta be good.]

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“A puzzled love of the light” by ottertrashpalace [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 16k WIP]

Molly, possibly the most flamboyant queer individual ever to exist, wound up saving the life of a homophobic Christian picketer. It's not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him, but suffice to say that it has long-ranging consequences he did not expect.

[Ymmv on the fic’s conceit (I personally enjoy it tbh), but it’s an enjoyable read with plenty of angst and emotional catharsis, and hints of more to come later...]

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“a lighter in his pocket / a matchbook in his socks” by ScreechTheMighty  (@screechthemighty) [Gen; major spoilers; 11k]

‘and a block full of charred skeletons / closeted, begging to get out’

The ghosts of your past catch up to you eventually. Sometimes, they bring more than just the memories with them.

[Again, unsure if this… technically counts as whump, but there’s enough miserable, stressed, panicking Caleb that I’m going to count it, honestly.]

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“the echo valley” by vandenburg (@momlymauk) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 5k]

Sick from the incessant raining on their way to Shady Creek Run after a job well-done in the Labenda Swamp, Caleb receives some comfort – from Kiri.

[Sickfic!! Sickfic!! Sickfic!!! Also, Kiri being adorable, as an added bonus.]

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“Snow Rise” by AiraKay [Gen; 1k]

Injured and alone, Caleb Widogast takes a moment to contemplate the falling snow and his place in the world.

[Somewhere between character study and whump, but very lovely.]

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“Check the Cards” by Catzgirl (@fenesvir) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

Molly ignores his foresight and everyone suffers for it.

[More from Molly’s PoV as Caleb gets injured, but it’s still a nice fic - very well-written and I love the way the author weaves Molly’s tarot cards into the narrative.]

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“sunset” by aviators (@farfel) [Caleb/Molly; 3.5k]

Caleb brings a trembling hand up, cupping Molly’s cheek and pressing his thumb to his lips, wetting them with his own blood. “Hush, Mollymauk.”

“No. No,” Molly gasps out, hand meeting Caleb’s and grasping around it until both their knuckles turn white. “You’ve never known me to stop speaking my mind when I’m set on it. I’m not about to stop now, even for you.”

[Dreamy sighs about this fic tbh. Lovely Caleb whump, lovely Molly angst, long and difficult recovery, character introspection… hhh.]

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“Scorched Bonds” by Akiko_Natsuko [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 8k WIP]

“No!” It comes out as a strangled shout, his chest heaving and breaths coming in frantic pants. Too close, he had come so close to surrendering to the charm and if he had…the flames are roaring in his chest now, reminding him of what he can do, what those whispered words could have made him do.'

When a fight goes wrong and magic ensnares the rest of the Nein, Caleb is left alone, facing his friends… his family… and he's forced to make a choice.

[A lovely mix of whump and angst, with the “having to fight your friends” trope, and some aftercare as an added bonus.]

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“Little Monster” by Lesetoilesfous (@lesetoilesfous) [Gen; 21k]

Nott hasn't been in prison for very long when she gets a cellmate, a human called Caleb.

This story follows the development of an unlikely friendship, and the way it saves two people who'd long since decided to give up on the world.

Or: prison is not the first place Nott imagined she'd find a family, but she isn't complaining.

[A Nott and Caleb meeting fic, with assorted whump and angst and getting out of prison shenanigans. Good, clean straight-up torture for both of them tbh.]

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“My Friend Filthy” by 99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 21k]

Nott is a goblin with no friends, and nowhere to go. Caleb is a human with no family, and no hope left. They don’t expect each other, but Caleb is empty, and Nott needs something to care for. So they work with the broken pieces.

Together is better.

[Another, slightly longer variation on the above theme - I just love All the ‘Caleb’s in jail and miserable and barely a human’ fics. This one plays especially hard on the ‘barely a human’ bit, which is delightful.]

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“twisting the kaleidoscope behind both my eyes” by confines  (@wholeneinyards) [Gen; maybe mild spoilers?; 5k]

Nott and Caleb meet in jail. They escape together and then they survive together.

[A nice whumpy, angsty backstory elaboration piece.]

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“The Courage and The Fall” by mollymauks [Caleb/Molly; 4k]

Prompt: “Shivering long after everyone else has stopped.” After ending up fighting a battle submerged in a frozen lake, the Mighty Nein strip off in their camp to dry out and warm up. All but one. Content warning: this fic deals quite a lot with scars, if that’s not your cup of tea, maybe avoid.

Teaser: “I’m going to stop you freezing to death, you idiot,” he said simply, hand still extended. Caleb still didn’t move. “Trust me,” Molly murmured, his words only for the darkness and the wizard staring up at him, the firelight glinting on his pale eyes making them look strangely opaque and ghostly. “I should think I’d proved myself quite adept at keeping you alive after all this time.”

Caleb stared at him for another long, thundering heartbeat, then he let a soft laugh huff past his lips. He reached up and grabbed Molly’s forearm, letting him pull him to his feet.

[What kind of whump rec list would this be if I didn’t have a “cuddling for warmth” fic on here…? A terrible one, that’s what.]

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“Süss” by drekkeri (@tragedyboycentral) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

Caleb was pretty sure he was dead. It was the only logical explanation.

He was drenched in sweat, trembling, and the mere act of thinking for more than two seconds took more effort than he could manage. As he tried to get out of bed he grabbed onto the wall, holding his head as he saw spots of back.

Yeah, he was definitely dead.

[A lovely fic involving diabetic!Caleb’s blood sugar dropping too low and his friends having to work out what’s wrong and help him. Whumpy, plenty of the ‘panicked confused friends’ trope, and with a happy, fluffy ending.]

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“A Lovely Man” by Justanotherfangirl [Caleb/Molly; 1.5k]

Caleb gets injured, and Molly can’t keep his feelings for him a secret any longer.

[Whump, love confessions, bleeding out…? What more could you want from a fic.]

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“Me for You” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; 5k]

Caleb gets badly wounded when a mission goes awry. Molly uses his Bloodhunter powers to heal him, despite Caleb's protesting.

[Another excellent whumpy character study thing, short and sweet but delightful, fluffy schmoop for an ending.]

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“Another Part of Surviving” by notsoappropro [Caleb/various; 1.5k]

He doesn’t anticipate it, the first time. He’s head to toe in filth, having slept under trees and in city alleyways for an uncountable number of days on Nott and his neverending escape. The grime under Caleb's fingernails is aggressively visible in a clean store he clearly cannot afford to be in as he counts his silver. He only has four, it’s all they have between the two of them, and it’s many coins short for the medicine they need.

[A kinkmeme fill technically, but angsty enough to be included here, just about. A series of vignettes on the times Caleb is forced to prostitute himself.]

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“Hot and Cold” by Emberforge [Gen; 3k]

It was all going well, until it wasn't.

[Caleb gets poisoned, and the team deal with it; mild whump, plenty of aftercare and worrying. Short and sweet.]

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“What Friends Are For” by Justanotherfangirl [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 8k]

It’s been a long time since Caleb had any friends, since he had deserved to have any friends. But with the Mighty Nein, he found himself caring almost in spite of himself. And the Mighty Nein might just care about him too.

[A lovely collection of drabbles exploring Caleb’s relationship with the other members of the Nein, through the medium of whump and comfort/care.]

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“Here with You” by Akiko_Natsuko [Caleb/Molly; 1.7k]

It was a terrible plan from the start, but it was the only one they had. Fortunately Molly and Caleb were together, and that might just be enough in the face of a situation that brings the past pressing in on them.

[Less physical whump and more delicious descriptions of panic and misery, which imho count as whump / give me the same whump feels as physical whump does. Also, Caleb locked in a cell!]

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“Dominate Person is Never Really A Good Time” by sterphfy [Gen; 4.5k]

The title kind of sums it up. Some angst, some implied Molly/Caleb, but painfully little physical contact. probably done, but may write a companion later.

[More fun with mind control and hurting friends! I’m predictable in the tropes I like.]

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“bruises and comfort” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 643]

After a random battle, Caleb's less than fine and Fjord's there, helping.

[Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin - Caleb’s hurt, Fjord looks after him and comfort him. Short, satisfying, sweet.]

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“Hidden and New” by Avorna [Caleb/Nott; 3k]

Fighting a horde illithid is well above their job description.

In the midst of battle, Caleb is caught by a desperate illithid and it decides to play with his more well kept memories.

[On here primarily for the first half, where Caleb nearly gets his brain eaten, and gets thoughts and memories he wants to keep secret broadcast to the MN - which is always a good time.]

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“Storm After the Calm” by UzbekistanRules [Gen; major spoilers; 1.5k]

Caleb deserves nothing. Or... so he thinks.

[More self-loathing and emotional h/c than whump, but some nice mentions of past whump and tbh panic attacks probably count as whump? The aftercare in this is also very lovely.]

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“What Was, What Is” by lostsometime [Gen; mild spoilers; 1k]

Caleb would have been able to stop himself from causing collateral damage with his spells, once. He can't now.

[Again, more angst than whump; again, I like it enough to include it here, and also panic attacks / dissociation totally do count as whump in some circumstances tbh.]

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“Fever Dream” by Chaya (@fieldbears) [Gen; major spoilers; 245]

Someone asked for either Caleb or Molly to be delirious with fever. This is probably the least creatively titled thing I have put up in a while, but at least there's plenty of angst?

[Honourable mention, as it’s a very short little drabble - but what there is of it is delicious, so I couldn’t leave it off.]

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“Feeblemind” by Chaya (@fieldbears) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 13k WIP]

There are some ugly spells out there. Sometimes you just have to do your best to get through it.

[Fun times with the feeblemind spell, and then the emotional fallout from that for the whole group. Bonus Molly angst too, which is always nice! May or may not have been abandoned, but what’s there is somewhat complete in and of itself, so...]

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“Under His Gaze” by EllenofX [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 4k WIP]

Caleb is a smart man. It is a fact that he is more cautious of now, with how far astray it once led him, but one that is undeniable. So, when a stranger wakes them in the dead of night, it does not take him long to figure out that he and his companions are being toyed with. That they have been toyed with for quite a while, now.

[Another ‘is it abandoned?’ fic - essentially a variation on the theme of ‘Travelling Hearts’ recced above. First chapter seems pretty whumpy though, so fingers crossed it continues!]

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“Our Early Days Are Always With Us” by sandssavvy (@sandssavvy) [Gen; major spoilers; 8k WIP]

Sometimes the past won't let you rest.

After a run in with Trent, Caleb isn't sure he will ever find rest again.

[Again, unsure if this has been abandoned?? It’s not terribly whumpy as-is, mostly angst, but if it’s not on permanent hiatus then it should get whumpy…]

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Lastly (and shamelessly), I’m gonna plug my own writing here. The only whumpy fic I’ve written for Caleb is “lesser of two evils” [Gen; 2.4k]:

Caleb’s running a fever by the time the rest of the Mighty Nein find him.

He was expecting that much – he’s done this before, after all, knows that it’s a bad idea and will not go well in the long run. However, bleeding out in the middle of a forest is also not a good idea, and will also not go well in the long run. The difference is that bleeding out in the middle of a forest will go exceptionally poorly in the short run, so it’s a lesser-of-two evils sort of thing. He’s well-versed in Faustian bargains, made both unwittingly and otherwise. It’s fine.

(In which Caleb gets separated from the rest of the group, and then injured, and then some rather ill-advised DIY field medicine involving fire. The rest of the Mighty Nein are left to pick up the pieces when they find him.)

However, I’ve got other whumpy tidbits and headcanons under my general #critrole 2.0 tag (though my blog / that tag frequently contain nsfw or triggering material, as a heads-up).

[skarabrae-stone]

Get Killed, Walk It Off

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR.

If there's one thing Steve has learned, it's that when someone falls off a cliff, you should ALWAYS look for them. With that in mind, he persuades Peter Quill and the Guardians to search for Gamora, just in case.

Read it on tumblr here

“Do you really think it’s worth it?” Quill asks hoarsely. His eyes are red and puffy, and there are tear tracks in the grime on his cheeks. “I mean, she’s…” His voice breaks, and he rubs his face, roughly, like he can’t be bothered to find gentleness even in that simple gesture.

Steve steals a glance at Bucky, who is standing next to him, alive, and tries to shut out all the ways he’s seen him die—or almost die—in the past seventy-odd years. He hasn’t let go of his hand since the dead—disappeared?—were brought back two hours ago. “In my experience, when someone—falls—it’s better to make sure,” he says gently. “At the very least, we should find out what happened.”

Quill nods, clearly trying to pull himself together. “Okay,” he says, as if convincing himself. “Okay.”

Footsteps echo down the hall, and T’Challa appears, looking as tired and careworn as everyone else. One of the Dora Milaje hovers at his elbow, and it feels wrong not to see Okoye there.

“Captain Rogers,” he says formally, then, coming closer, “Steve.”

“King T’Challa.” They don’t really need the formalities, not after the past two years, but Steve feels the need to cling to something, to anchor himself with the certainty that T’Challa is still the king, still in some semblance of control. He so dearly wants, for once in his life, not to be the person in command. “It’s good to see you—” alive. “Well.”

“I am alive,” says T’Challa, with his usual straightforwardness. “I am told you are going on another mission.”

Steve nods. “We’re hoping to retrieve Gamora. Unless you need me here…?”

“No,” T’Challa says. “Strange bought us enough time—we have a few days. But I have something for you.”

He unclips a pouch from his belt, and hands it to Steve. A glowing purple flower is nested inside.

Steve stares at it, then at T’Challa. “Is this…”

“The heart-shaped herb,” he confirms. “It has many healing properties, and under the right circumstances… it may bring a person back from the brink of death.” His eyes take a faraway look. “I have… experienced this myself. If the lady has any spark of life within her—she may yet be saved.”

Quill reaches out, as if to touch the plant, then pulls his hand away. “Why are—why are you giving me—us—this?”

T’Challa gives him a small, grim smile. “Because I can. Because it is the right thing to do.” He pauses, then adds in a more business-like tone, “There is a ritual you must perform, if the herb is to do its work. Nakia will go with you, to show you what to do. She will meet you at your ship.”

Steve nods, then lets go Bucky’s hand to give the Wakandan salute. “Wakanda Forever,” he says in Xhosa, then adds in English. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” T’Challa replies, returning the salute. “All of you.” Then he steps forward, and pulls Steve, then Bucky, into a hug.

“Take care. Don’t get killed.”

Steve casts an accusing look at Bucky, who just sighs.

“I’ll do my best.”

 Nakia is waiting for them at the Milano, along with the remaining Guardians and, to Steve’s surprise, Thor.

“Are all of you coming with us?” Steve asks.

“Of course,” says Drax.

Mantis and Rocket just nod, and Groot manages a soft, “I am Groot.”

“She was a brave lady,” says Thor. “I would see her brought home, and honored.”

He doesn’t say that he expects them to bring home a corpse for burial, but Steve knows he’s thinking it. Of all of them, Thor has perhaps lost the most; it’s understandable if he’s run out of optimism for the time being.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, and gestures to Quill. “Captain?”

Quill, for some reason, winces at the title, but leads the way onto the ship.

Steve and Bucky board last, squeezing into a seat that’s not really meant for two people. Steve doesn’t care; right now, he craves physical contact, needing to reassure himself that Bucky’s really here, that he’s not going to disappear again. Bucky must feel the same, because he curls half into Steve’s lap, resting his forehead against Steve’s collarbone.

Steve wraps his arms around him, not caring what anyone else might think of the sight. “Hey, Buck,” he whispers.

“Hey” Bucky mumbles.

Thor slumps down next to them, staring at the floor like he could burn a hole through it. In the right mood, he probably could.

“Hey,” says Steve, when the other man hasn’t said anything—or moved—for several minutes. “You okay?”

It’s a stupid question, but Thor doesn’t call him out on it. “Fine,” he says, and resumes floor-gazing.

Bucky raises his head slightly. “Steve,” he says, “You idiot. Tell him to come here.” While Steve and Thor both stare at him, he flaps his arm in invitation. “Everything sucks, we’re all sad,” he says. “So come here.”

Thor moves closer, hesitantly, like he’s not really sure, and Bucky uses his metal hand to pull him the rest of the way over.

Thor and Bucky are both heavy, and Thor is significantly bigger than Steve, but Steve doesn’t complain about the two of them huddling half-on, half-off his lap. They’ve all been through the wringer in the past few days, and he needs the comfort as much as they do. Thor has his arm around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky’s head is tucked into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve buries his face in Bucky’s hair and just breathes.

At some point, there is a general shifting, and Steve ends up with Nakia tucked in between Thor and Bucky, and Drax leaning against Steve’s legs with Mantis’s head in his lap. He’s not even sure how they’re all managing to fit, but doesn’t question it. In the cockpit, Rocket and Quill handle the controls, with Groot sitting on the floor between them.

The journey takes two hours, and none of them speak.

 They don’t talk on the hike to the foot of the cliff, either. Steve can’t think of anything worthwhile to say. Instead, he just tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand—whether to give or receive comfort, he doesn’t know—and tries hard not to think about what’s waiting for them. He doesn’t know if he can forgive himself if he’s gotten Quill’s hopes up, only to have them dashed again—but he knows he couldn’t forgive himself if they just left Gamora there, either. If all they can do is bring back her body, then he will at least make sure they do that.

As they near the cliffs, Bucky nudges him and points to a dark shape in the snow. “I see her.”

“Quill,” says Steve, and the others stop, looking startled at the sound of his voice.

Quill doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, misery written in every line of his face.

“Let me and Bucky take a look. If it’s… bad… you don’t want to see.”

“I’ve seen bodies before, Rogers,” says Quill, but he sounds tired rather than argumentative.

Steve shakes his head. “I know. But some things, no one should have to see.”

When nobody else says anything, he starts forward again, Bucky keeping pace easily. Nakia catches up on his other side, her face grim. The three of them have no emotional connection to Gamora, but that doesn’t make this easy.

She’s lying in a heap among the rocks and snow, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Blood matts her hair and soaks her clothes, and Steve has to take a moment before he kneels down and places a finger under her jaw.

There’s no pulse—but it’s cold here, there’s a possibility…

“If she’s enhanced, the cold would just put her in stasis,” Bucky says quietly. “The question is whether she died on impact.”

“We need to turn her over,” says Nakia. “I can do a scan, see if there’s—if there’s any hope.”

“Let’s put a stretcher down first,” Steve says. “We’ll need it either way.”

He doesn’t say If she has spine injuries, we could make it worse. He doesn’t say, we are arranging a corpse for burial.

They can observe all the same things he does.

Bucky pulls the stretcher from his pack, unfolding it and lining it up with Gamora’s body. Together, the three of them carefully roll her over, onto the stretcher. She is stiff, and her jaw looks to be broken, her ribs caved in and her eyes open and sightless. Steve remembers teenage boys bleeding out in the trenches, and his hands do not shake.

“I’m starting the scan,” says Nakia, and waves a small, handheld device over the body. Blue light bathes the wounds and twisted limbs, and Steve reaches blindly for Bucky’s hand again. He doesn’t see how there can be any hope.

The scanner beeps, and Nakia makes a surprised sound, rocking back on her heels. “She’s alive,” she says disbelievingly. “I picked up—the brain is still sending signals. They're very weak, but she is alive..”

“Can she— is it survivable? If we… if we thaw her out…”

“She would die instantly,” Nakia says. “Luckily, the ritual does not require her to be taken out of stasis.”

Bucky inhales sharply at the word, but his voice is steady. “How do you know this?”

“I have done this before.” Nakia meets his eyes. “You and T’Challa have something in common, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he corrects, apparently automatically. “It’s… safe, then? To tell Quill?”

“I don’t know if we can save her,” Nakia answers. “But we will try. I think… yes. Tell them to come here.”

Bucky gives Steve’s shoulder a quick squeeze, and heads back to the others.

Nakia turns to Steve. “We need to align the broken limbs, so they don’t heal incorrectly.”

He nods, face grim. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

 At Nakia’s instruction, they cover Gamora’s body with snow, leaving only her head uncovered. Nakia teaches them the chant, going slowly until everyone can pronounce it properly.

“I don’t know if Bast will hear us here,” she tells them. “We are a long way from the home of the Black Panther. But I am one of her children, and Gamora has fought bravely in defense of the Earth, so there is hope.”

“She will hear,” says Thor, speaking for the first time since the Milano. “She is bound to you. She will hear.”

“Then let’s start,” she says, and begins to chant, pounding the flower to liquid with a mortar and pestle.

The others pick it up, too, Drax and Thor’s voices rich and booming, Rocket a thready rasp, Mantis high-pitched and uncertain. Groot, unable to pronounce the words, beats a rhythm with his hands, and Bucky’s rich baritone harmonizes effortlessly with the rest. Steve himself has never been much good at singing, but he can follow the beat of Groot’s—for lack of a better word—drumming, and he lets himself sink into the flow of the chant, pronouncing the unfamiliar words with all the energy and conviction he can muster.

Nakia pours the glowing liquid into Gamora’s open mouth and covers her face with snow.

The chant continues.

They wait.

 Darkness. Nothing but darkness, endless; no sound, no sensation. She floats, endlessly, without thinking, or attempting to do anything. Time does not pass in the boundless dark, but at some point, it occurs to her to wonder where she is, what she is doing here. Surely she has not always been here? There is an image of herself, as a something—legs and arms and a head—something other than a small spark of consciousness in the empty void. She explores this thought, curiously, dispassionately, but cannot quite make sense of it.

There is only nothingness here, and yet she is something—why is she here? Is she the only one?

A light appears, like a pinprick in a black sheet, far away or perhaps just very small. It is golden and beautiful, and illuminates absolutely nothing in the surrounding darkness.

Eventually, or perhaps immediately, she decides to approach it.

In moving, she discovers that she has arms and legs, and that she can direct them easily. There is no surface on which to walk; she walks anyway.

The light does not get bigger, or smaller; it simply exists, and she walks toward it, and the darkness remains unchanging around her. She can feel her body, the beat of her heart and expansion of her lungs, but she cannot see it. She has a feeling this should bother her, but it doesn’t.

She walks.

The light remains the same.

She keeps walking, and nothing changes, nothing moves, until it does, and the light is all around her, and she is standing amid thigh-high grass on an endless plain. A black sky arches above her, full of stars, but the grassland is illuminated as though by a sun. She is warm, and she can feel wind on her face, in her hair.

It occurs to her that this is the first time she has felt these things.

Her body is green, clothed in some kind of armor, and it feels… comfortable, lived-in, and she feels a profound sense of relief. Whatever else is going on, this is her body, and it feels familiar.

The grass rustles, parting, and a large black cat appears, coming to a halt in front of her. Its head is nearly level with her stomach.

She feels, somehow, that it is rude to be taller than this creature, so she kneels instead, and waits to see what happens next.

“You are far from home, child,” says the cat, and its voice is that of a woman’s.

“I don’t know where I am,” she admits.

“You are wandering.” The cat tilts her head, assessing her. “Gamora, they call you. They have called me, begging to return you to them. Yet you are not one of my children.”

Gamora feels tears sting her eyes, though she is not sure why. “I don’t think I belong to anyone.”

“And yet they call to you. Sister. Mother. Friend… Beloved.”

“Groot,” she says, the name heavy with familiarity on her tongue. “Peter.”

“They call to you,” the cat repeats. “Will you go to them?”

“I… don’t know.” She rubs her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“You are nearly dead, Gamora,” says the cat. Her voice is gentle, soothing, as if she is telling a story to a child. “The last spark of life in you is fading. If you ask, I will take you, for I have been summoned, and no other god has claimed you.”

“And… the alternative?”

“I can send you back.” The cat sits, tail curling neatly around her feet. “Make no mistake, it will be no easy road. You will return to pain, and suffering. You may yet lose everything you’ve fought for.”

She considers this, remembering, now, Groot’s wide-eyed smile and Rocket singing while he tinkers with an engine; Drax shaking with laughter over some stupid joke, and Mantis clasping her hands together when she talks, and Nebula’s concentration when she fights. She remembers Peter’s arm around her waist, the warmth of his mouth on hers.

It’s not a choice, not really; this is her family, and she will always choose them.

“I want to go back to them,” she says quietly. “I want to live.”

 There’s a stifled cry, and Gamora’s body jerks once, twice, then goes still.

Quill flings himself to his knees, brushing the snow off Gamora’s face with quick, frantic strokes, and Gamora’s eyes flutter open.

“Gamora?” he whispers.

“Pete—Peter,” she mumbles, and her lids droop shut again, her body going limp.

Quill looks at Nakia, his eyes wide with terror. “Is she—will she be alright?”

Nakia consults the scanner. “There is still significant damage,” she says. “We need to get her to Shuri as soon as possible. But… yes. The herb has done its work. She will survive.”

Drax bursts into loud, raucous laughter, Mantis starts crying, and Rocket swears at the top of his lungs. Groot shouts, “I am GROOT!” over and over, while Quill just stands there with a look of shock on his face.

Steve himself feels giddy with relief, and he grabs Bucky and kisses him on the mouth before he can think better of it. He pulls back a moment later, grinning sheepishly, and Bucky smiles back.

“Hey,” he says over the commotion. “Let’s get her out of here. Thor, Drax… c’mon.”

Thor and Drax take the front of the stretcher, Steve and Bucky the back, and the rest crowd around them, still reeling with the day’s events.

“Thank you,” Quill tells Nakia fervently. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She smiles at him. “You’re welcome. But remember, this isn’t over. She has a long way to go before she recovers.”

“I know. I know, but… thank you. I thought…” He doesn’t finish, just hurries his step a little to keep pace with the stretcher.

 Steve and Bucky visit them that night, once things are more settled. Gamora is awake, propped up on pillows and hooked up to an IV, and looks, all things considered, far better than could be expected. The other Guardians have taken over the recovery room, sitting around her bed and (in Groot’s case) sprawled on the floor. Steve can’t blame them; he still hasn’t let Bucky out of his sight for more than five minutes.

It’s only as Mantis lets them into the room that he realizes Gamora will have no idea who they are.

“Um, hi,” he says awkwardly. “I’m… uh, Steve Rogers, and this is Bucky Barnes, and we, uh… we just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Peter told me what you did,” she says in a raspy voice. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t not,” he says honestly.

Bucky makes a disparaging noise and brushes past him to her bedside. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “’Cause I’ve tried the falling-off-of-cliffs thing, and let me tell you, it is definitely on my top ten of least favorite things to do.”

She cracks a smile at that. “I’m not dead, and I’m on a lot of painkillers, so. Not as bad as I could be.”

“I see you’ve got both your arms,” he notes. “So you’ve already done a better job of it than I did.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Steve can’t help but smile at the exchange, at Bucky’s courage in exposing his own painful past to help someone else. Then again, he wouldn’t have expected anything less.

“It’s late,” he says. “We’ll let you get some rest. I’m glad to see you’re… alright.”

“For a given definition of the word.” Her gaze slides from him to Bucky, and back again. “Really, thank you.”

“Of course,” says Steve, and Bucky follows him out.

In the hallway outside, he takes a deep breath, leaning his head against the cool stone wall.

Bucky frowns at him in concern. “You okay there, Steve?”

“I… yeah, I just…” He rubs his face, tired beyond belief. “When you fell, I—I didn’t check. I didn’t make sure. I guess I… I guess this feels a little bit like… payback, maybe. Fate. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” says Bucky softly. “Hey, look at me.”

Steve does, meeting those clear blue eyes, and finds nothing but love there.

“You did good, Stevie,” he murmurs. “You did good.”

Steve nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. He brushes a hand through Bucky’s dark hair, still matted with sweat and grime and who knows what else, anchoring himself in his presence. “Take me back to our room?” he asks quietly.

Bucky kisses his forehead, then his lips, and wraps his arm around his waist. “Yeah, baby. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

[officialthiamlibrary]

Welcome to another profile on Behind the Screens, giving you personal insight on who your favorite artists are and what they do when they aren’t wowing you with their creative ability.

This week, we have the pleasure of learning more about Kristina, also know in our circle as Thiamlife. The author of Rivals AU, Anchors, and numerous prompts, she loops us in on her life as a trainer, her writing persona, and her tips for writing angst. 

Kristina! To start us off, tell us something about yourself. The catch: use a sentence, where the word count is either equal to or less than the number of letters in you two favorite Teen Wolf character’s name.

Theo Raeken + Malia Tate = 19: I’m Sporty Spice but can act like Baby Spice, want to be Posh Spice but badass like Scary Spice.

Before the era of Teen Wolf, we found love and OTPs in other shows. What would you say were your first ships, think way back?

Oh lord, um, probably Marissa and Ryan from the O.C., but I also loved the Buffy/Spike/Angel situation.

And, how did you land in the Thiam Family? What about Theo x Liam drew you in?

Honestly, I just stumbled upon it. But it was one of those things where you see it and then it just clicks… like “Where have you been my whole life?” I wasn’t caught up when I saw the first Thiam related thing on my dash and was like hmm interesting and then when I was catching up the whole time I found myself desperately looking for all the subtle Thiam things.

I know we were made to hate Theo, but for some reason I just couldn’t and when I noticed that Liam didn’t either I was completely smitten. I just love how their love never was nor ever will be easy (blame the angst queen that lives inside me). They have to constantly fight and struggle to be with each other. But at the same time it was so blatantly obvious and simple for them to rely on each other even though they may not have realized it. I also just love how protective Theo was over Liam.

If you could build the ultimate paintball/laser tag team from any five characters on Teen Wolf, who would they be and why?

Malia cause she’s a straight badass and I love her. Theo because he likes strategy and has a serious sense of self preservation that would come in handy if the rest of us got taken out. Brett ‘cause damn, that boy is athletic. Corey because he could make us all invisible. And the fifth spot would be a wildcard choice between Chris, Derek, and Deucalion. All three of them bring something to the table and are valuable.

I’m definitely picking up the Sporty Spice feels, for sure! Together, your and Ashlee’s (AJP_37) teams would be an unstoppable force. Let’s shift into your writing. If your writing process was a person, describe him or her? What do they do? Wear? Listen to?

She is unsuspecting. A relatively plain and humble girl, but has a spice about her. It’s in her walk and the way she does her makeup. She loves leggings, off the shoulder sweaters, and having her hair tied up in a messy bun. She likes to listen to edm when she’s feeling light and free, Beyonce when she’s feeling badass, The Neighbourhood and Sam Smith when she wants to chill, and country on warm summer days. She’s a sucker for innuendos and teasing. She’s a gemini in the truest form and has many facets to her personality, but thrives in drama/angst. She’s fiercely loyal and it is extremely easy to make her jealous but she won’t show it unless cornered. She’s always ready to go big but wouldn’t mind going home either.

And your writing Kryptonite? How do you fight it?

My Kryptonite is honestly myself. There are always at least three different directions brewing in my mind in which to take my stories or chapters. Trying to pick one is so difficult and often deters me from completing things. I also am extremely critical of the flow of a piece of work. Sometimes it’s really hard for me to publish things because I know that it could be better but I don’t know how to take it there or don’t want to get rid of I have already written. When I feel like that I read over it a couple times and try to make all the adjustments I can before telling myself that this is how the characters in my head wanted it to happen if I was able to write a whole chapter about it. (Yes the characters in my head dictate where the story goes lol) I also go back and read everyone’s comments just to remind myself that people actually like the story so the new chapter can’t be that much different in terms of audience acceptance.

Do you write novels or short stories with original characters, as well? If so, share one you’re particularly passionate about.  

I do. Although, I haven’t been paying it much attention since I got sucked into the Thiam fandom… whoops. It’s a romance novel about a girl that gets screwed over by her mom and doesn’t want help from anyone in fear that she’ll just be left in the same position. But a man from her past just won’t seem to take no for answer and refuses to let her continue in her struggle. The first chapter is on my Ao3, funnily enough it’s called Wolves and was titled that before I even began to write fanfics.

Characters often find themselves in situations they aren’t sure they can get themselves out of. When was the last time you found yourself in situation like that and what did you do?

I’m actually working on this at the moment. It happens far too frequently to just pinpoint one time… divorced parents that act like children are super fun in case anyone was wondering. Up until recently, I found myself being the tug of war rope between them and don’t know how to say no which ended up with me doing a bunch of things I couldn’t get myself out of. Can now happily announce that I have separated myself from that and hope to avoid those kinds of situations as much as possible from here on out. :) Sorry if that was too personal…

In addition to your prompts and other stories, you’re currently writing two chaptered works. We’d love to learn more about those and your process for bringing them to life. For anyone unfamiliar, can you give us a quick summary of both Rivals AU and Anchors?

Anchors: Liam Dunbar has had enough of being out of control. So he decides to shut his wolf off for awhile… the only problem is it could end up getting him killed. Theo Raeken had never been good with feelings. But he can’t fathom the idea of losing the little beta. So he makes it his personal mission to help Liam find his way back to the supernatural. Lines will be crossed and there may be no coming back from it. Its angsty and the end will have a twist you didn’t see coming.

Rivals: But rivaling teams AU though… Like, they don’t even play the same sports, but both teams don’t take the other really serious and they constantly prank each other and make fun of each other. Theo, captain of the Football team, and Liam, captain of the Lacrosse team, and they both claim they can’t stand each other and it would be all so easy if it weren’t for the fact that both find their counterpart more than just attractive and maybe one of their screaming matches on the field ends with them furiously making out under the shower after everybody else is gone. And maybe it becomes a regular occurrence from then on; first, they fight and bicker and then they make out. And maybe it’s getting harder and harder to pretend they hate each other’s guts because there is far more between them than just attraction. Oh, well, nobody has to know, right? Idea from formerprincess on tumblr. Okay this one is SUPER angsty, like beware.

What inspired you to write both?

Anchors kinda of just popped in my head one day. After Thiamweek and writing drabbles I decided I wanted to try writing a longer story. I fell out of love with it after being accused of plagiarism and honestly almost didn’t continue writing it. But decided that I would just change the end to reflect how the whole thing made me feel.

I saw the Rivals prompt on tumblr and was praying that someone would write it because it sounded sooooo good. The more I thought about it the more ideas I came up with until it got to the point where I was like no! I hope someone hasn’t already started writing it because I would love to take a whack at it. I hope everyone is enjoying what I’ve done with it! (P.S. sorry it has gotten a little dark, that was like rock bottom for both of them and now the only way to go is up :D)

Any scenes, specifically, inspired by your personal life?

Yes, actually. There’s a couple things in Rivals that were inspired by my personal life, mainly a few of the pranks that have been/will be pulled but there are a few other things in there, as well. And as I mentioned above, Anchors will kind of touch on how it felt to be torn down by someone but built back up by the most wonderful people.

They each include a fair amount of angst, what are some ways you get into the headspace to write angst? Do you have any tips for writers who’d like to improve those skills?

Hmmm. Angst is just something that comes naturally to me I guess. I love the way it makes you feel, like you have to stop but yet you keep going because you need to know what happens. It's like when you try to see how long you can hold your breath under water, those last few seconds burn and you know you should come up for air but you want to see if you can actually make it just a couple more. When I sit down to write something angsty I really just try to put myself in the character’s place and describe how I would be feeling but I make sure to tack on aspects from their character. For example, if Liam were to be sitting in the hospital with Theo, I would be freaking out and sad so I write that for Liam but add hints of anger and self-doubt.

So I would definitely suggest placing yourself in the situation and writing how you would react and then think of it from your character’s pov. I also like to write all my angsty scenes at night… it's weird but the darkness and less busy/loud city really help to put me in a ominous mindset. Also, use as many descriptive words as possible!!! Setting the scene for angst is, in my opinion, more important than the actual dialogue. Dialogue can be inserted anywhere but how it’s read or perceived depends on the mood you set for it.

Ok, that is amazing advice! Can we do a practice demonstration? How would you set the scene that use dialogue like, “Whenever you decide you can stand talking to me again, don’t.”

Depends on who’s pov it is. If the character is the one saying that then obviously they are a little angry/hurt. So the words “harshly” “through clenched teeth” “growls” “glared” would be really useful. But also internalizing the feeling. So like “He pushed out through clenched teeth. The words tasted like bitter venom in his mouth. He didn’t care how the boy across from him flinched upon hearing them, he only cared that he had allowed himself to be cut this deeply. He let his shoulders tense as he spun away from him and stalked off angrily to go lick his wounds somewhere else. The cold from the dingy warehouse finally breaking through his supernatural warmth and settling in his bones.” When I’m angry, I’m usually more angry at the fact that I allowed myself to be hurt/affected rather than the actual thing that happened or was said. So that’s how I would spin it if the character was the one saying it. Painting a picture as to why he reacted that way and making sure the reader can picture the look on his face and make them physically tense their own body in response to the words above.

If the character was on the receiving end of those words, I would convey the hurt/’oh fuck’ emotions. This one would be more internalized than the one saying it, so more of a mental reaction is needed here. Again, I put myself in the situation and visualize what I would do/what would be going through my head if I were to have that said to me. Here’s what I came up with: “He recoiled as if he had been backhanded. He didn’t mean to push the chimera that far. This all started out as a silly game but it had quickly morphed into something the both of them weren’t ready for. And now he stood there, frozen in place, and watched as the one person he truly cared about, his anchor, walked away from him in disgust. The room was darker without him, it was colder. Liam shuddered at the raw feelings slamming in to him and at tone of voice Theo had used with him. He hadn’t spoken to him like that since before he was pulled down to hell, Liam almost forgot who the old Theo was… and now he had just brought him back. His face dropped and a pained noise escaped his throat; What had he done?”  

That’s just an angsty version though. It could also be placed in a humorous way. As a joke between Stiles and Theo. Again, set the scene… paint a picture for the readers with descriptive words:

Stiles mumbled under his breath for the fifth time while walking next to him. Theo couldn’t help but smile as they walked through the colorful preserve foliage on this bright autumn morning.

‘Something you want to say to the group Stiles?’ Theo chuckled after hearing yet another mumbled sentence out of the quirky boy who used to be his friend.

‘Not really’ Stiles grumbled which only made Theo’s smile a bit wider.

‘Are you sure? I’m pretty certain I actually heard you say that I had a good idea and that you were somewhat glad I was in the pack.’

Stiles retorted with some half-assed insult that made that rest of the pack giggle from their various positions beside them.

‘On second thought, whenever you decide you can stand to talk to me again, don’t.’

Stiles scoffed and stopped short glaring in to the side of his head making him stop and look back at him. ‘Oh that’s rich. You’re telling ME not to talk to YOU?’ He sputtered incredulously.

Theo smirked and nodded.

‘What the hell, why?’

Theo shrugged his shoulders and glanced over to Scott who was about to lose his shit laughing, same with Malia and Mason. ‘Because you’re extremely invasive and I don’t want you popping up at my house with some crazy plan every 5 seconds.’ He turned and winked at Liam.

‘Our house.’ Liam corrected as he slid up next to Theo brushing his shoulder against Theo’s arm.

Stiles sputtered and pointed at both of them, ‘How dare you! My plans are flawless’ he shouted earning a snort from Lydia and Malia, ‘and you… you… you little ungrateful shit! I practically raised you!’ At this point Mason and Scott were rolling on the wet leaves, tears streaming down their faces from laughter.”

Wow sorry just wrote a drabble and didn’t even mean to… see setting the scene is important! It takes simple dialogue to the next level and makes it a story rather than just a conversation. Hope this helps!

That was extremely helpful with a hearty side dish of entertainment. So while we're all processing how we’re going to write angst forever now, want to slide us any spoilers for things to come in both stories?

Haha, there may or may not be some steamy scenes in one or both of them soon. That’s all I can say for now.

I suppose, for now that has to be enough haha. Finally, what’s next for you? Both in life and in the writing world?

I’m currently in the process of taking over an athletic training company. So my workload has been steadily increasing, even though it may not seem like based off of how active I am on tumblr haha. Luckily, I get to do most of it from home before the actual coaching and teaching that takes place in the afternoon.

As for my writing, sadly I think Anchors is approaching the end… it will always hold a special place in my heart though because it was my first multi-chapter fanfic. Rivals is my number one baby right now and I have ZERO clue what I will do when I finish that. Hopefully I find another awesome prompt that can take Thiam for a ride. Been toying with dabbling in Drarry... but am thinking I’ll leave that one alone so I can just appreciate it as a reader.

My ask and inbox are always open!! I’m always accepting prompts; it may take me awhile to get around to them because of Rivals, Anchors, Secret Santa, and a possible oneshot smut ;) but I always like to take a break from my fics every once in a while to clear my head and get my creative juices flowing again!

Thank you so so much for wanting to interview me and get to know me a little bit more! The Thiam fandom is awesome and I’m so glad to call it my home!

And with that, Behind the Screens (BTS) presents ThiamLife to you! Let’s keep the conversation going; you can respond to any of her answers, ask more questions, send a prompt, or swing by for a chat with Kristina through her Tumblr Ask Box. And to dive into her works, check out her AO3 and Tumblr.

Tumblr: thiamlife

AO3: Mskristinamay

Ask Box: Thiamlife Ask

We’d like to thank her so much for entertaining our questions, especially the angst demonstration! One of our favorite pieces about BTS is the opportunity to learn craft secrets from one another. So thanks Kristina for breaking it down and going above and beyond the question :)

If you fan over a Thiam writer, artist, music mixologist, or video-making mastermind and want to know more about them, send us their usernames at any time. Also, feel free to add questions you’re dying to ask them. And if you, as an artist, would like to be a part of the Behind the Screens series, we’d love to get to know you, as well. 

Until next time!