#i need to like strip it all down and find the parts worth keeping

[deathbypufferfish]

If I were a mountain, I'd stand my ground And maybe I'd never listen But if I were a mountain, I'd close my mouth and Maybe I'd be forgiving...

[icepip]

blowing choso and yuuji at the same time. big brain.

sorry it took a bit but i really really love this idea!! have a little drabble!!

tags: 18+/mdni. reader has breasts. handjobs/blowjobs. dubcon (everyone is drunk). mentions of alcohol + vomit. pseudocest (yuji and choso are brothers). not proofread.

you're not quite sure how you ended up like this, kneeling on the wooden floor in your friend's apartment, almost entirely naked — but you're fairly certain it had something to do with the seemingly endless amount of alcohol that was pass around.

your body was hot, sweat shining on your skin and the flame of arousal coursing through your veins. yet, your hands wrapped around something hotter, something heavy and warm and throbbing.

you looked up at the men above you, a soft and drunken giggle filtering out of your mouth as you took in their appearances.

choso's head was thrown back, exposing his gorgeous neck. strong and smooth and the perfect canvas for hickies. you were almost upset that you were so far away from it, wanting to latch onto his flesh like a vampire and leave your mark. but the way he squeezes his eyes shut and claps a hand over his mouth as you pump his cock makes you content.

you'll just have to find an excuse to bite him later.

yuji, on the other hand, had his amber eyes trained on you. they would flick back and forth between your face and your hand, watching your thumb drag across the bead of precum that gathered at his tip. his face was flushed and it trailed down to his rapidly rising chest, a pretty pink that matches his disheveled hair.

"so good," the younger brother mumbled, tongue darting out to lick at his parted lips. "feels so good."

your mind was fuzzy from the drinks, your movements a little uncoordinated and sloppy, but neither seemed to notice or care. if you had your wits about you, you would take your time with them, learning exactly what each brother liked and maybe even you with them a bit.

but, now, you just wanted to make them cum.

with that goal the only thing clear in your brain, you lean forward, wrapping your mouth around yuji's thick cock. bitter was the first thought to enter to your mind, his pre hitting your tongue immediately. it wasn't entirely unpleasant and the broken moan of your name from yuji made the taste worth it.

his hands found their way to your hair, curling around the strands as you bobbed up and down, a shallow rhythm so you could keep both hands moving. there was no way you could take either of them down your throat, not without the threat of the alcohol coming back up.

"holy shit." yuji gasped, his abs twitching as you suck on his tip.

at his brother's shaky words, choso's eyes blinked open, daring to look at you for the first time since you stripped. you looked gorgeous, your breasts swaying a bit as you moved your head, your smaller hands stroking both of them with a matching pace. he could've cum right then.

but he wanted this to last — needed it to last. when else might he get the opportunity for something like this to happen again? he just hoped he'll be able to remember everything come tomorrow.

"'m gonna cum if you — ah, f-fuck — if you keep doing that."

you pulled away, a string of saliva snapping and hitting your chin, before turning to choso and taking his dick in your mouth.

he's not as girthy as yuji, but he still stretched your lips as you took him down. he tasted sweeter, a bit muskier, too. you wondered how their cum would taste together. you wondered if you'd be able to find out one day.

choso bit at his lower lip, trying to keep the desperate sounds he's sure would tumble out at bay. your mouth was so warm and wet around him, and he's not sure how he'll ever get off again without it. one little taste was all it took to get him addicted.

you suckled at his head, lapping at the sticky precum that dribbles from his slit. he's close, and so was yuji. a little more, a little push, is all they would need.

quickening your pace, you slid off of choso with a soft pop, letting your spit help the glide of your fists. both of them groaned in pleasure, each rapidly approaching their climax. yuji was louder, more vocal as curses spilled from his tongue, his cock jumping in your hand. choso stayed as quiet as he could, but the occasional whine and moan would filter it's way through.

yuji came first, warm spurts of white splattering against your chest. choso followed a few moments later, his own release landing a little higher and mixing with his brother's.

you watched with rapt attention, your gaze rapidly moving between the two of them, hoping to memorize every little detail. their chests were heaving, out of breath as you worked them through their orgasms. you really hoped this wasn't written off as a drunken mistake and you'd be able to relive it as many times as you wanted to.

luckily for you, the boys were thinking the same thing.

[crystalflygeo]

How to Warm Up your Dragon ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: ngl this is MOSTLY VERY FLUFFY but it has a veeeery spicy part ehehehehe, praise kink, biting, bit of rough sex, creampie, dirty talk. Reader is technically Fontainian but you can ignore that tbh

notes: Y'ALL THIS HAS BEEN ON MY WIPS SINCE BEFORE FONTAINE IT'S BEEN SOSOSOSOSO LONG I started writing at the start of winter here, now it's summer lmao but hey at least it's winter in the northern hemisphere so... enjoy the snow and dragon man!! Also also... no one guessed what the gift was but Rin was the closest!

Your mother always used to say the way to a man's heart was with food.

you wonder if that applied to archons... er, dragons? adepti?

In any case...

Zhongli has always been a... particular eater. A very refined palate. It's not that he was hard to please, to tell the truth. But he always seemed to have an extra comment, something to add or change to a dish to make it ‘a little more special’.

But you'd quickly find out he had a soft spot for broths and soups, bamboo shoot soup being his particular favorite. Even when it took a lot of hard work and time to prepare, the way he did so was worth it, simply spectacular.

That's why you could almost cry with joy when he happily praised one of your favorite dishes. A fantastic soup d'oignon passed down on your family. Nothing to add, no extras or corrections, he'd enjoy it to its fullest talking about the creamy texture and unique flavor of the cheese so different from those found in Liyue.

So, today you decided to prepare it. Nothing better to warm up on this chilly season, and besides you'd just received a shipment of ingredients from your family.

The rhythm of a knife on a cutting board fills the air, along with a delicious smell. You finish slicing the onions into thin strips and add them to the pot at the stove, humming lightly while stirring. You really hope nothing would keep your dear Zhongli too busy today, so he could be just in time to enjoy this while still fresh and warm.

You turn off the other burner as the beef stock had already warmed up, and start washing some dishes while keeping an eye on the food. It is… rather amusing just how domestic this all feels. Not too long ago you were adventuring over Teyvat, facing off all sorts of crazy dangers, exploring, and never stopping in one place and now… now this feels like home.

And that is without taking into account who your fiancé even is. The former Geo Archon. You shake your head with a light chuckle. It’s still so weird to think of such an imposing figure from legends to be so… him.

You dry your hands and start to pour the broth on the now-golden onions, stirring.

Zhongli is sweet, caring, attentive, wise, with just the right words at the right time. Admittedly a bit airheaded at times, funny when he wants to be. A refined gentleman through and through unlike anyone you’d ever met.

And he loves you.

And you’re engaged.

Warmth rises up to your cheeks along with a small smile as you lower the heat and start grating the cheese.

You heard sounds at the front door and then steps. Oh, early today. Zhongli walks up to you with a smile, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, his hands resting at your waist as he leans in from over your shoulder. “Welcome home, Li.”

“Thank you” He replies in that deep suave voice. “That smells good my love, would you like some help finishing?”

You shake your head a little. “Please, there’s no need, you just got home. Go take a bath and unwind a little, I’ll finish here and we’ll eat.”

Zhongli looks as if he’s about to say something but simply nods. “Hmm, alright then.” He pulls you a little closer in his embrace, as if he’d missed your contact, your scent. Zhongli inhales deeply, tension seeping off of his body and he gives a soft kiss at your shoulder before almost regretfully pulling away. You chuckle a little and stir the pan.

How domestic and loving indeed.

…

Later when the food is ready and served, he returns to the small kitchen dressed in much more casual and comfier robes. Your eyes linger a little on the small expanse of exposed skin at his neck and chest and then stop at the way his long hair is tied up in a bun.

“Not washing your hair today?” You ask casually, taking your seat.

 “I… Perhaps I have gotten rather used you doing it. I simply didn’t feel like it.”

You can’t help the short laugh that escapes you, even as you try to cover it a little. “Is this your way of saying you wanted me to bathe with you?”

His golden eyes twinkle. “I would certainly enjoy indulging in that more often.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your eyes.

He takes a spoonful of soup and hums, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavors. “The finest ingredients cooked with true expertise. Simply divine, my love, thank you.”

“Flatterer.” You say, a little embarrassed but he can see right thought it, your little grin, the little shift in your posture.

“I am simply stating the truth.” He replies and continues eating. You can see his shoulders relax and the small satisfied smile at the warm food, it makes you a little giddy as you start eating as well.

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

bundling up during winter was obvious, right?

Putting on layers and layers of clothes. And true, perhaps Liyue didn't get as cold as other nations such as Fontaine, Mondstadt or of course Snezhnaya, but maybe it was exactly for that reason the temperature drop seemed to affect everyone all the more. Besides, the people would take any excuse to show off their fancy coats, scarves and other cold-climate outfits.

Zhongli naturally wore many layers, and he did mention once or twice he wasn't as affected by the cold. Yet, his business partner had gifted him a thick snezhnayan cloak.

The thing was entirely ridiculous, too bulky with a fluffy overtop, the colors dark and cool not matching Zhongli at all.

And yet he'd used it! (Only twice... but still)

You were not jealous, not at all.

You just wanted to... give him something he'd also enjoy and wear around, yes. Something personal, something he’d like and look at and remember you.

But what?

Ugh, it’s not like you were really well versed in sewing. Back at home you’d even had some machinery for that, but here in Liyue… you wracked your brain thinking what could you give him. He had quite a few elegant outfits, fitting him perfectly and enhancing all his attributes, all personally tailored by one of his late Yaksha so they held immense sentimental value as well… how could you compete with that?!

Right, right, it was not a competition. You sigh. Zhongli will probably be happy with anything you give him, but still…

An idea pops into your head and you can’t help but chuckle. Oh, it’s so silly… but maybe…

Simple enough, personal, something he’d use during the cold season only around you. Could work, you decided as you pick up your things to go visit the textile shop.

If nothing else, it could at least get a good chuckle out of Zhongli, right?

And so, for a few days you work on your little project. Turns out sewing was indeed a little harder than expected but you were trying your best. The kind lady who’d sold you some excellent wool had also given you some tips and they proved to be most useful indeed!

Regrettably you didn’t exactly have the right measurements so you more or less eyeballed them. Eh. It’ll be fine…

Zhongli almost came close to finding out too, though you were inconspicuous enough. You’re sure he suspects something.

“It will all be worth it, it will all be worth it…” You mumble to yourself with a frown as you finish trimming one of the stitches. Your fingers hurt.

…

“Li! I have something for you!” You exclaim happily, hands behind your back holding the wrapped-up item you had worked so hard on. An excited glow on your smile and bright eyes.

“Oh? Am I going to finally see what you’ve been guarding to secrecy this past week?” He replies coolly with a knowing smile, amusement dancing on his tone as he places his teacup down.

Nothing escapes him.

“Yes” You present him the gift, your hands then fidget nervously, having nothing else to do now. “I hope you like it! It’s… my first time doing something like this… i-it may not be that good, it’s kind of silly but-”

“Darling please do not fret, I would love anything you give me.”

Your shoulders relax.

Zhongli unwraps the paper and finds a rich dark brown fabric staring back at him, he picks the item and opens it, trying to gauge its shape, thick wool, a little rough around the edges but you did mention it was your first try and he is honored enough you’d make such effort for him.

However…

What is it exactly?

He turns the item around trying not to show too much confusion on his face as to insult you or make you feel bad, it looks like… a severely oversized legwarmer?

“It’s…” You start, feeling a little shy and silly once more. “…for your tail.”

Recognition shines in his eyes and he blinks at the item. 

“You- I know you like to let loose a little around the house and let your illuminated beast features show, I love you tail too but I know… the scales get cold easily a-and usually we just bundle up with a blanket but I thought-”

“I love it.”

You stop running your mouth as soon as he utters those words, Zhongli looks at you with a gentle calm and your heart could melt at the sincerity in his expression. “No one had ever made something like this for me.”

He stands and unfurls the item, then, in a flash of gold his dragon tail manifests, majestic as ever and swaying lazily, the tuft of fur at the end flickering with each move. He maneuvers a little to slip the ‘tailwarmer’ on and though it sags a little, much to your relief it at least fits nicely. There is a yellow diamond pattern near the base that you’d started working on but deemed too difficult for a first try. It was a cute little detail though, maybe next time.

“Warm and cozy.” He chuckles and you beam at him, before letting out a squeak as said dragon tail curls around you, pressing your forward against his chest.

“Thank you, my love.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

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

The air is hot and heavy as soft moans and grunts fill the room.

Well, this was certainly a way to warm up… and get some good cardio.

You pant and squirm on the plush surface of a heavenly mattress as the familiar weight of the ex-archon descends upon you. His arms going from a golden orange hue to a deep charcoal, lines of gold thrumming across his skin, glowing softly in periodic pulses up strong muscular arms. Golden horns rise from soft brown hair curled at the tips, two on each side like a crown, while a powerful scaly tail wraps around your calf holding your leg up, spread.

This is Rex Lapis. Morax. Any other number of names he had. This is the Geo Archon.

“Zhongliii!” You whine, his hands caressing your body, claws teasing along your skin, pinching a nipple, fangs grazing your collarbone and a long serpentine tongue licking a hot stripe across your neck.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, already rock hard and burning like a brand, your hips canting for more. For him to finally fill you, to feel his thick overwhelming girth stretch you, breed you… you want to be filled so full it overflows, so that it dribbles down your thighs and ass in thick, slick rivulets of his love.

“Patience my love.”

You whimper and jerk at that, about to cry out for him again when he rolls his hips and sinks in your warm hole. Your breath catches in your throat as your head throws back on the soft feather pillows.

He pushes into you inch by inch, carving a space for himself with a soft rumbling groan. His lips seek yours as his hands slide to your hips and press hard enough to bruise. His kiss devouring, all-consuming with need as he bottoms inside you, hips pressed flush.

Gods you feel so full, stretched and filled every inch and then some, and he doesn’t allow you a moment to pause and adjust either. A beast of a man in the best of ways, he withdraws halfway, only to slam forward in a fluid firm thrust.

“Mng-! Ah!”

“Mine. All mine. S-so warm and thigh- nghh…”

His pace starts slow, his voice alone enough to drive you crazy with how deep, carnal, animalistic it is against your neck. Sharp canines teasing the elegant column of your throat as he moves.

“Oh! so good… Li… f-faster… faster ple-ahhn!” Your voice pitches high as you babble, pleasure coiling on your gut.    

“As- you desire…” Strained words still sounding like the very embodiment of sex, his voice so sinfully deep, so erotic it washes over you like liquid silk, like molten gold, only heightening the sensations of his quickening pace. In and out, in and out, skin slapping on skin. “You’re… you’re so perfect for me-”

You take him so well, your legs spread wide, your back arched, your insides molded to his length, enveloping him in the most mind-blowing of heats. The bed creaking as Zhongli delivers another powerful thrust, hitting a sweet spot deep within you and making you elicit a sharp keening sob of a moan. Your hands scrambling from the sheets to seek purchase at his back, curled up under his arms to scratch viciously trying to hold onto something, anything as he drives into you thrust after thrust after thrust-    

“I’m- I’m gon-ahnn! Z-Zhongli… ooohh!”

Fuck you are close. So, so close…

He nips at the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. “Almost there… little one.” He huffs between strained grunts and you whimper at the pet name. Golden claws sink on the bedsheets, gripping thigh for leverage as he moves faster, frantic, hips like pistons he fucks into you like a wild animal, the bed rocking, shaking with each thrust. “C-close…”

You mewl and moan, unable to form coherent thoughts anymore but just feel the hot burning pleasure, his warm puffs of breath on your skin, your sweating bodies dampening the sheets and you desperately want to feel his warm seed inside you, filled to the brim with his creamy cum.

“Pleasepleaseplease i-in! In-s-ahh!” You come with a sharp cry, vision blurring, muscles clenching, your insides squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

It was enough, the tipping point for the dragon, his thrusts shallowing out until he ruts as deep as he can and shoots his load inside you with a guttural groan. Thick spurts pumping inside you before it pools out around his own cock, leaking from your body until there’s nothing left to give.  

Everything is hot… so hot… the air heavy and musky with the scent of sex…

…

Zhongli slumps softly atop your body after what feels like ana eternity, his cock still comfortably nestled within your slick walls, cushioned by fluttering muscles. You lay beneath him, sweaty and shivering, breathless, chest raising and falling rapidly in small gasps as you struggle to catch your breath but oh, how you took his away…

 Beautiful, truly… your half-lidded eyes glazed over, barely able to open admits your exhaustion, but still able to whimper soft little moans as he trails fluttering reverent kisses along your neck and collarbone. Soft, chaste, loving and tender touches.

“Ahhn… mmm…” He chuckles softly at the endearing sounds you make as he eases out of you, the subtle friction enough to sent fire to your nerves, followed by a strange emptiness that mellows down to buzzing contentment.

He lies to the side and pulls you close towards his chest, his tail finally letting your now sore leg rest, uncoiling from it to curl around you both, you settle there with a sigh, eyes sliding shut. “So good for me.” Zhongli gently brushes some hair away from your face and places a kiss at the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “Rest now, dear.”

“Mn.”

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

You smile as Zhongli places the two steaming teacups on the table before scooting over and welcoming him with the blanket surrounding you. He settles on the couch with you cuddling close and passing the book on your hands to him. Your fingers brush and he sets the book on his lap before taking your hands on his, cradling them close to his face before blowing a warm breath on them. You blush and let out a little airy laugh.

“What is this? Dragon breath to keep me warm?”

He hums against your skin, piercing golden eyes staring up at you. “No, just my love for you.” He kisses your knuckles and fingers.

“You…” You mumble, averting your gaze.

He chuckles and kisses your wrist then before leaning in close and kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, anywhere he can reach.

“Ngah, wait you affectionate big lizard!” You squirm and he laughs fully now.

“Just seeking my adorable fiancée’s warmth” He nuzzles onto your neck, kissing there too and making you yelp. “Gorgeous.”

“A-Am not!”

“So precious when you get all shy and flustered.” He gets your jaw this time when you move, so close to your lips.

“Stop! You menace…” You pout and this time you cup his face, staring for a moment at his handsome features, your thumb brushing close to one of the red markings under his eyes.

This man. This dragon. This god.

Oh, how you love him. He warms up your heart.

“Here, I’ll warm you up proper…” You whisper softly, pulling him close and tilting your head to slot your lips together.

Just as you warm up his.

[rosyblooom]

blooming season🌷 (1) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans. A/N: my first time doing this, so probably has errors. if you've got any thoughts or requests pls let me know xoxo hope u enjoy! :)

part 1 <- | part 2

The scent of salt still lingers in the air, but now it feels different, not as welcoming as it used to be. It's a painful reminder of days gone by, days filled with joy and warmth that now seem distant and unattainable. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake off the memories, replaying them in your mind like a scratched vinyl record that refuses to play properly.

Today marks four years since your father's passing, and four years since you left Monaco. You were just eighteen then, fresh out of high school, when the news of your father's tragic car accident hit you like a ton of bricks. In a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sorrow, you packed your bags that very night and left before the weight of it all drowned you.

You couldn't bring yourself to attend your father's funeral, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real. But deep down, you knew the truth—your father was gone, and nothing could change that. Even as you threw yourself into your studies, pursuing a nursing degree, the pain never truly went away.

And now, here you are, sitting alone on this deserted stretch of beach, watching the waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm.

This spot holds a special place in your heart, known only to a handful of locals—a fact you couldn't be more grateful for. Here, away from the watchful eyes of tourist crowds, you find solace as you simply listen to the earth rotate.

You exhale slowly, leaning forward to brush the sand from your palms before reaching into your bag for the bottle of red wine nestled inside. It takes a bit of effort to uncork it completely, but the satisfying pop is worth the wait. With careful precision, you fill a wine glass to the brim with the rich, maroon liquid—something to take the edge off.

"Welcome back, Y/N," you whisper to yourself, lifting the glass in a silent salute. "Thank you, thank you. I can't imagine anything worse."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a stark contrast to your usual composed demeanour. It's been 1,460 days, yet it feels like your world only just came crashing yesterday.

Needing calm now, you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness, when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, pulling you back to the present moment.

"Seriously?" you think to yourself, feeling your heart plummet like a stone sinking into deep waters. You took every precaution to keep your return under wraps—after all, you paid good money for that privilege.

Arriving just last night, you made it a point to rise at the crack of dawn, a time before the world awoke; a time when it's just you and no one else. You couldn't bear the idea of facing the prying eyes that would surely accompany the day ahead. For once, you didn't want to be known as the daughter of one of Monaco's wealthiest families; you simply wanted to be yourself, stripped of titles and expectations—a daughter mourning her father.

Feeling like a trapped animal, you become acutely aware of every sound and movement, your gaze locked on the figure approaching.

A man.

His brown curls bounce with each step until he comes to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from you.

With a small wave and a nod, he greets you with a simple "Hey."

It takes a moment for you to register that the greeting is directed at you, causing you to tear your gaze away without a response. Your eyes flit between the gentle ripples of the sea and the man settling down uncomfortably close, prompting an annoyed grunt to escape your lips.

“Fuck spatial awareness, huh…,” you mutter under your breath, though not quiet enough to evade his notice. He slips off his black headphones, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Sorry, what?"

You clear your throat, then sit up straight and gesture expansively. "All this space, and you have to sit right next to me?”

He smiles.

Your gaze narrows.

"But I'm not right next to you," he retorts with a playful grin. "You're all the way over there." He points towards you and then at himself. "And I'm right here."

"Well, it's still too close," you snap.

"Sorry, did you buy this beach or something?" he counters, his grin widening. "Last time I checked, it's open to all members of—."

Growing increasingly frustrated, you interject, "No, I didn't buy anything. I just want some personal space. But clearly, that's lost on you."

With a scoff, you spring to your feet, snatching up your towel and cramming it into your bag, sand and all.

"Wait, you don't have to leave," he insists, his footsteps drawing closer. But you pay him no mind, tossing your phone into your bag and hastily gathering the rest of your belongings from the ground.

Once everything is crammed into your bag, you snatch up your half-empty glass of wine and stand upright, only to feel a foreign warmth enveloping your hand and glass. The man now stands directly in front of you, invading your personal space completely; you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his piercing green gaze.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but—" he begins, but you cut him off sharply.

"Way too close now," you snap, attempting to pull your hand away, but he refuses to release his grip.

"You do realise I'm trying to apologise, right?" he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

"I don't care."

His grip remains firm. "There's plenty of space for both of us here."

"It doesn't matter anymore," you respond, your patience wearing thin.

The struggle continues, your voice growing louder with each tug. "Let go of the fucking glass!"

Suddenly, a sharp yell pierces the air, followed by the hollow thuds of broken glass hitting the ground. Shock washes over you as you barely register the sticky liquid trickling down your hand and onto your toes.

"Ah, shit," he exclaims, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly assess the situation, noticing the shattered remnants of the wine glass scattered on the ground, staining the sand crimson.

Panic sets in as you frantically check your hand and feet for any injuries, your eyes wide with fear. After several anxious moments, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm okay.

The tranquillity is abruptly shattered by deep groans echoing through the air, drawing your attention to the man's slumped figure with his back turned to you. His face remains hidden from view.

Though he's clearly in pain, you're tempted to slip on your shoes and make a hasty escape. Today is already burdened with its own weight; you're not sure you can handle any more. You even take a step back, ready to flee, but then something stops you.

A pang of guilt washes over you, weighing you down like heavy bags strapped to your legs. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly admit to yourself, "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Okay, fine. How about you put on your big boy boots and let me take a look at that?" you say, crossing your arms expectantly.

There's no reaction from him, not even a response.

Rolling your eyes, you drop your bag onto the sand and cautiously circle around him until you're face-to-face with his unruly brown curls.

"Hello?" you tap his shoulder, frustration creeping into your voice. "Earth to the stranger who doesn't understand personal space?"

"Seriously?" he retorts, his tone sharp.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, his expression guarded, but you simply shrug, maintaining a neutral demeanour, and extend your hand.

"Let me see," you say calmly.

For a moment, he simply stares at you in bewilderment, but then he tentatively extends his hand towards yours.

"I see," you breathe, examining the large cut in his palm with care, mindful not to dirty it with your fingers. Despite the blood seeping from the wound, you release a relieved sigh after a thorough inspection—it's not as deep as it initially appeared.

"Alright," you announce, dropping his hand and clapping your hands together. "Go home, make sure nothing touches that hand, clean the cut, and bandage it. Keep it dry for a couple of days, and then reassess."

Without waiting for a response, you turn towards your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and shoot him one final glance.

"This has been... unpleasant," you remark dryly. "I really hope our paths don't cross again. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

You shake your head and ignore him, determined to continue onward.

"Wait!" he calls out again, desperation evident in his tone. "I don't have any bandages!"

You stop walking, considering his words, but still don't turn around.

"And... I don't have any sanitising stuff either," he adds, his voice trailing off slightly.

Slowly, you turn around and wave your hands dismissively in the air, shouting back, "That's what supermarkets are for! I guess it's time for a shopping trip!"

Just as you're about to spin on your heel and leave again, his voice cuts through the distance.

"Look, you seem like you know what you're doing. Can't you just help me out here?"

Shielding your eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, you squint at him as he begins jogging toward you. "That advice," you shout back, "was me helping you out. Trust me, I wanted to leave way earlier."

For a moment, neither of you speaks as you watch him closing the distance between you. When he finally comes to a halt in front of you, you instinctively take two steps back—you need your personal space.

"So?" he says between pants, waiting for your response.

You furrow your brows, deep in thought. "Well, I don't have anything on me, sorry to disappoint. But like I said, there are shops around here."

You resume your walk, but to your dismay, the guy falls into step with you almost immediately.

"So, what? You have nothing at home?" he presses, his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you increase your speed.

"Right, because I'm just going to invite a stranger," you emphasise, "who I didn't want to be around in the first place, into my home."

His hand suddenly grips your arm, causing you to instinctively rip out of his grasp, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

"What?" you bark, irritation seeping into your tone.

"You can google me," he offers, his voice calmer now. "Lando Norris, Formula One driver. Search my name up. You'll see pictures—every single detail about me, you'll probably find on the internet. Now I'm not a stranger anymore, right?" he suggests, his gaze pleading.

You remain silent, shifting your focus toward the calm waters as you breathe in and out. It feels as though the world has paused, waiting for you to come to a decision, to reach a conclusion.

Today, the anniversary of your father's death, is a day you've been dreading yet anticipating for so long. Its disruption unsettles you, but deep down, you know you can't simply ignore it. As much as you wish to skip over this chapter of your life, tear out its pages, and never look back, you can't. It's not healthy.

Still, that doesn't mean you can't delay it for a little while longer.

"Fine," you sigh, relenting to the situation, and begin rummaging through your bag until you locate your phone.

Quickly, you extract it and raise it to Lando's face, snapping a photo of him with the flash on.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, blinking rapidly.

"For my protection," you state matter-of-factly. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can't be a bad person."

Once his gaze meets yours again, he runs a hand through his hair and offers a sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

You nod, acknowledging his words, and continue your walk toward the car park.

"I'm not a bad person, though," he adds quickly, catching up to you.

"Colour me convinced," you reply dryly.

*********

As you approach the car park, annoyance bubbles within you at the sight of it: filled with cars and swarmed by dozens of people.

"You said you're a Formula One driver, right?" you ask, tilting your head up at Lando.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

Instead of answering, you grab the hood of his jacket and pull it over his head.

"Why did you do that—" Lando begins, but you cut him off.

"The last thing I need is a mob of your fans, okay?" you interject firmly. "The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

Lando chuckles as he adjusts the hood. "I'm really that bad, huh?"

"Worse," you deadpan.

"...Right."

With your raven car in sight, you quicken your pace, relief flooding through you. The last thing you want is for people to realise you're back, especially not today.

However, as if your luck has run out, a woman steps in front of you, blocking your path. You immediately turn your focus to Lando, motioning for him to take a picture with his fan and hurry up.

But instead of the attention falling on him, a weight suddenly falls onto your shoulder, catching you off guard. You clear your throat, preparing to speak, but the woman beats you to it.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. It's you, isn't it?" the woman exclaims, her voice filled with recognition and sympathy.

You can't reply; your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy with unspoken words.

No, not today. Please, not today.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N," she continues, her expression radiating pity. It's uncomfortable—the way she looks at you, the way she touches your shoulder so gently. It feels like you're being burned alive, yet you're immobilised, just as you were four years ago when you first heard the news.

"Your father was such an amazing man. And you, I mean, you've been missed. My daughter loves you—"

Suddenly, you're being pulled forward, jolting you out of your trance. You struggle to keep your balance as you try to comprehend what's happening—the woman is gone, and Lando's hand is firmly clasped around yours, pulling you closer to him.

Your personal space has been completely invaded, yet you don't feel the usual urge to pull away. Even if you did, you're not quite sure Lando would let you.

"Your car's the black one, right?" you hear him ask, but the words don't immediately register.

"Huh?" you mumble, still reeling from the encounter.

"That black car over there," Lando points and leans in close, his gaze locked with yours, "that's yours, right?"

You nod, still not quite ready to speak.

Lando releases your hand and holds out his palm to you. "Okay, car keys, please?"

"What? No," you shake your head, rejecting the idea. "There's no need for that."

"Come on, I'm a Formula One driver, remember? I won't crash it."

"It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive in this state," he adds, his voice firm.

"And what about your hand?" you nod toward the injury.

"Like I said," Lando smiles slyly, cocking his head to the side, "I drive race cars; I think I can handle driving with one hand."

Rolling your eyes, you relent, "Okay, fine."

With a sigh, you fish out the car keys from your bag and hand them over to him.

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

[novaursa]

A Fire Worth Burning

- Summary: Aegon loved you since you were children, but your father, Daemon, would never let him have you. Not while he lived.

- Paring: cousin!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: ruins of an empire

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The halls of the Red Keep gleamed beneath the midday sun, its stone corridors bathed in a bright light. The air buzzed with dark kind of charged energy that always seemed to accompany your family’s visits to the capital. Your father, Prince Daemon, was as unapologetic as ever, striding down the corridor with a gait that left courtiers pressing themselves against the walls. You followed close behind, draped in Targaryen silks—black and red, colors befitting the blood of Old Valyria that ran in your veins.

Despite the grandeur of the day, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. A familiar weight—a presence that had never quite left your side whenever you visited King’s Landing.

Aegon.

Prince Aegon Targaryen, your cousin, stood at the far end of the corridor with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the stone. The light caught on his pale hair, and though his posture was relaxed, his smirk was nothing short of intentional. He had always been this way—charming and infuriating, equal parts arrogance and allure.

“You should take care where you stop, Aegon,” your father’s voice rang out, sharp as the edge of Dark Sister. Daemon glanced briefly at the prince before continuing down the hall without sparing another thought for his nephew.

“I’ll catch up to you, Father,” you called lightly, earning a knowing glare from Daemon. He did not like leaving you behind—certainly not when Aegon was involved—but he allowed it, though not without muttering something about “Hightower games.” His footsteps eventually faded.

Now alone with Aegon, you crossed your arms, mirroring his stance. “Must you always be lurking?”

“Lurking?” Aegon straightened, pushing away from the wall with feigned offense. “I prefer to think of it as watching over you.”

You snorted, though his easy charm tugged at something deeper. “I have no need of your protection, cousin. I am my father’s daughter.”

“And your father is dangerous,” Aegon replied with a crooked grin. “Yet here you are, walking unescorted, left vulnerable to my… charms.”

“I wouldn’t call them charms,” you shot back, though your tone lacked the bite you intended.

He stepped closer, his violet eyes locking onto yours with a rare softness, a glimpse of something that wasn’t mere jest. “I would.”

You hated how your breath caught. Aegon had always been handsome—he knew it, the court knew it—but it was the rare glimpses of sincerity that unsettled you most. As children, he had been the boy who tugged at your braids and chased you through the halls. Now he was a man, and the mischief in his gaze had taken on a different weight.

“Did you follow me to flatter me?” you asked, your voice measured.

“I followed you because I’ve missed you,” Aegon admitted, his tone quieter now, stripped of its usual arrogance. “It has been years since we last saw one another, and yet, I find you still manage to haunt me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Haunt you?”

He chuckled, stepping closer still until you could smell the faint scent of wine and cloves clinging to his tunic. “You’re all I see, Y/N. When I sit at court and the lords drone on about banners and allegiances… when I ride Sunfyre across the skies. Even in my dreams, I see you.” He tilted his head, searching your face for a reaction. “Do you ever think of me?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but another voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Aegon.”

Daemon’s presence filled the corridor, the echo of his boots drowning out the unspoken words between you and your cousin. He looked furious at Aegon for still lingering near you—though with your father, anger was often a quiet, smoldering thing. He didn’t need to shout; his glower was enough to freeze Aegon in place.

“Uncle,” Aegon greeted, though his confidence had faltered. He turned toward Daemon, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. “We were merely speaking.”

Daemon’s gaze swept to you, checking for any hint of unease before settling back on Aegon. “Speaking? I saw no words worthy of my daughter’s time spilling from your mouth.”

“Is it such a crime to pay her compliments?” Aegon countered, the bravado returning to his voice. “She’s deserving of them.”

“Her worth does not require validation from you, boy.” Daemon stepped forward, placing himself between you and Aegon. The unspoken threat loomed in the air—Daemon may have been Aegon’s uncle, but he was also a man who had brought kingdoms to their knees.

Aegon smiled, though it was thinner now, strained beneath Daemon’s scrutiny. “Perhaps I should have asked your permission first, then. Or would you prefer I not look at her at all?”

Daemon’s expression darkened. “Do not test me.”

“Father—” you began, trying to intervene, but Daemon raised a hand to silence you.

Aegon’s gaze darted to you then, his eyes softening as if to reassure you. “I’ve only ever admired her, Uncle,” he said more earnestly now. “You cannot fault me for that.”

Daemon narrowed his eyes, looking as though he were considering whether to draw his sword then and there. Instead, he turned to you. “Come, daughter. You have indulged your cousin’s foolishness long enough.”

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Aegon. “We will speak again,” he said softly, his voice for your ears alone.

Daemon shot him a glare that could have scorched steel. “No, you will not.”

Without another word, your father took your arm and guided you away, his grip firm but not unkind. You didn’t dare look back, though you could feel Aegon’s eyes lingering on you until you disappeared around the corner.

“He is trouble,” Daemon said under his breath, more to himself than to you.

“And yet you let me speak with him for a moment,” you replied.

Daemon’s gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you. “You are my daughter, Y/N. The fire of dragons runs in your blood, but there are flames that burn too hot.” He exhaled, as though tired by the day’s events. “Aegon is no match for you.”

“Perhaps not,” you murmured, though your thoughts betrayed you.

You couldn’t shake the image of Aegon’s violet eyes, nor the words he had spoken. Do you ever think of me?

The truth was, you did. Far more than you cared to admit.

Aegon lingered in the corridor long after you and Daemon had disappeared, his smirk having faded entirely. His hand ran through his hair in frustration, disheveling it further as he let out a low sigh. He’d said too much. Or perhaps he hadn’t said enough. Either way, it hadn’t mattered—not with Daemon looming like the shadow of some vengeful god.

“Sulking, brother?”

Aegon’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice, sharp and edged like the speaker himself. Aemond stood at the end of the corridor, cloaked in his customary black leathers, his posture as rigid and unyielding as ever. The younger prince’s single eye fixed upon Aegon with a knowing gleam, the sapphire that replaced his other eye catching the light like a shard of ice.

“I don’t sulk,” Aegon muttered, forcing himself to straighten as his brother approached. “I drink. There’s a difference.”

Aemond smirked, though his version of a smile was a far colder thing than Aegon’s easy grins. “From where I stood, it looked very much like sulking.” He glanced back down the hall, where Daemon had led you away. “Ah. I see now. Her.”

Aegon stiffened at the casual derision in his brother’s voice. “Mind your tongue, Aemond.”

Aemond’s brow quirked, an infuriatingly calm expression plastered across his face as he came to stand before Aegon. “Careful, brother. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love.”

Aegon scoffed, though his laughter rang hollow. “What of it if I am? Does the notion unsettle you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Aemond replied coolly, his voice quiet and deliberate. “Though I find it amusing. You’ve spent years drowning yourself in wine and whoring your way through Flea Bottom. And yet here you stand, mooning after the Rogue Prince’s daughter like some lovesick fool.”

Aegon’s jaw tensed, a flicker of anger flashing in his violet eyes. “Careful, little brother. I’m in no mood for your japes.”

Aemond stepped closer, his tone hardening. “It’s not a jest. She is Daemon’s daughter—his prized daughter. She is not for you, nor will she ever be.” He tilted his head, a cruel edge to his smile. “Do you think Daemon would allow it? Or perhaps you dream of wedding her, of proving yourself to her. Is that it? Pathetic.”

Aegon lunged forward then, shoving Aemond back a step with enough force that the younger prince stumbled. “Watch your mouth, Aemond!” Aegon’s voice was a low snarl, his face flushed with anger. “You speak as though you know what it is to want something you cannot have. But you don’t, do you? You don’t feel anything. You don’t care for anyone.”

Aemond straightened slowly, smoothing the front of his leather tunic with deliberate poise. “On the contrary, I care about many things. Duty. Honor. Our family’s survival. But love?” He sneered the word like it was poison on his tongue. “Love is for fools, Aegon, and it will ruin you if you let it.”

“And yet you’ve never had it,” Aegon shot back, his voice quieter now but no less bitter. “What do you know of ruin?”

Aemond’s smile disappeared entirely, replaced by a look as cold and sharp as a drawn blade. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them thick with unspoken resentments. Finally, Aemond turned, his boots clicking against the stone floor as he began to walk away.

“You’d do well to remember this conversation, brother,” Aemond said over his shoulder, his tone flat and final. “Daemon will kill you before he ever lets you have her.”

Aegon stood there long after Aemond had disappeared, the younger prince’s words lingering in the air like smoke after a fire.

Daemon will kill you.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Perhaps Aemond was right. Perhaps you were not for him, and perhaps he had no right to dream of you. But gods help him, he couldn’t stop. He had loved you since you were children—since you had first laughed at him when he fell from Sunfyre’s saddle, and since you had looked at him with something other than judgment or disdain.

No, he would not stop. He could not.

“Daemon be damned,” Aegon muttered under his breath as he turned away, his mind already racing with plans. He would find a way. Whatever the cost.

[coldfanbou]

Rough Treatments

Hey @blepbooplebeep Here was your idea. I kinda forgot about the bunny hybrid part because I got into the smutty ideas. Also it's relatively short because there wasn't too much story involved in the writing. For everyone else, a little rough treatment of this bunny is involved. A lot of anal teasing for her.

Length 1.5K

GP Jihan X Freader

In the breakroom, you walked in to find your worker, Jihan, leaning against the counter. She was hard, her cock poking against her skirt and leaving a wet spot as she leaked precum. The rabbit girl had entered her heat cycle early; You had notes on it from when you hired her. Jihan was grinding her legs together, struggling to keep it together. The visible bulge pressing against her skirt turned you on.

Considering you two were the only ones at work on this day, you did nothing about it for the moment, taking the time to think of something. After she heads for her office, you take your time to follow her, knocking on the door before intruding. “Jihan, how are you doing?”

“Fine,” Jihan says, typing away at her computer and refusing to look up. You stroll to her side, glancing at her work before pressing a button on the side of her desk that lifts the entire desk. 

“You should stand up a little; sitting for so long isn’t good for you.” Jihan gave you a shy nod and stood up. You moved behind her, watching her work for a second before unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the ground. Jihan’s ears stood at attention as she remained standing in place.

“B-boss?”

“Shh, Jihan. I know what you’re going through. Just keep working, and let me help you.” You tell her as you grab her small cock. You move your hand along the stiff shaft, nibbling on her ear as she tries and fails to continue working. Jihan leans over her desk, moaning as you tighten your grip. You feel her precum coating your hand, allowing you to slide along her shaft quickly. “You’re getting all wet, Jihan. Do you like it that much?”

“Mhm, ah, please keep going.” You could only see part of her face, but you saw the desperation on her face. “I’m going to cum, I’m-” Jihan cries out as she cums over your hand. You slow your strokes over time, milking Jihan’s cock for what it is worth before bringing your hand to your lips and tasting the salty liquid.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for the company, Jihan. I’ll make sure you don’t have to suffer in your heat.” You tell her before leaving Jihan alone. She collapses onto her chair, utterly drained from the experience. She looked down at her flaccid cock. Jihan had always imagined she’d be the one taking charge. Taking the role of the submissive partner turned her on, though. She reached down and stroked her cock as she replayed the events that had just happened.

You decided to spend the week teasing Jihan, making her cum more time than you could count. On one occasion, you had Jihan sit in your chair as you gave her a thigh job, your legs squeezing her cock as you moved your hips. You heard Jihan’s whimpers, and she wanted to touch you, but you wouldn’t let her. You felt her warm cum between your legs when she came, but you weren’t done reading her report, so you continued. You felt her leak more cum between your thighs; it made you smile to hear her whines as you toyed with her. You took a break at some point, resting on her lap and leaning against her. “Jihan, you really cum a lot, don’t you?” You teased her. “It must be that bunny DNA, huh?”

The week was coming to a close, though, and with it should be the end of Jihan’s heat cycle. You planned to give her something rough, so you walked into her office. “B-boss, did you need something?” You stayed silent as you shut and locked the door behind you. Walking over to Jihan’s desk, you placed a large, veiny strap-on on it. She stared at it before glancing at you. She stood up slowly and bent herself over her desk. 

You smile at her and kiss Jihan’s cheek. “Good girl, but I want you to get it ready for me.” Stripping down, you put on the strap-on and push Jihan onto her knees. You hold her head against your strap, moving her along your shaft. You squeeze one of your tits with your other hand, moaning as you watch the young woman coat your strap-on with saliva. Jihan’s lips were stretched around the shaft, barely able to fit the strapon in her mouth. You let go of Jihan once you felt it was wet enough, letting her get to her feet and bend over her desk again. You lift her skirt, letting it get stuck around her waist, and pull her panties to the side, eyeing your prize. Jihan’s puckered asshole teased you. You rub your strap-on between her cheeks. Jihan whimpers as you prod her ass. It brought a smile to your face. 

You reached around and felt her cock; Jihan was as hard as a rock. “You want this, don’t you? “ Jihan nodded, unwilling to speak. “If you don’t say anything, I won’t do it, Jihan.”

“Please fuck my ass,” Jihan mumbles. Asking her to repeat herself but louder made Jihan whine, but she did as told and said it louder. You place one hand on Jihan’s ass, stretching her asshole as you push the head inside. She grunts, feeling your strap-on stretch her. You slowly add more length, making small thrusts to coat Jihan’s walls. It was a slow process that was already making Jihan cum, her cum spraying onto her desk and the floor. You enjoyed listening to Jihan whimper and moan as you pushed more of the strap inside her. Once you were finally buried inside Jihan, you waited, letting her get used to having her ass stretched. 

As you waited, Jihan received a phone call. “Answer it.” You command.

“Hello?” Jihan asked as she answered the phone, “Oh, it’s you. Yes, I can talk about the orders.” Jihan tried to stay calm as she chatted with one of the other managers in the company. As she did that, you moved your hands to Jihan’s waist. She looked over her shoulder with worry as you slowly dragged your cock out of her. She covered her mouth, trying to silence her moan as the manager on the other end continued talking. 

“Jihan, are you alright? You don’t sound so good?”

“I’m feeling a l-little under the weather.” Jihan groans as you impale her with your thrust. You begin thrusting faster, making it more difficult for Jihan to hide her moans. Her mind was breaking down as you pounded away at her ass, shaping her asshole to the shape of your strap-on. Cum dripped from the tip of her cock as she went through orgasm after orgasm. “I-I think I’ll need to call you back; sorry,” Jihan says before slamming the phone on the receiver. She collapsed on her desk after, her body being sent forward as you drove your cock into her ass. “You’re going to break me,” Jihan mumbles.

Another call came through a moment later. JIhan let the phone ring, refusing to answer it. You grabbed it for her, placing it by her ear. “Hell-oo,” Jihan said, her moans coming through.

“What was that? Are you alright, Jihan?”

“I’m fine. What did you need?” Jihan tries to hold the conversation as you’re ruining her. Her moans begin to break through as she reaches another climax. The call only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like forever to Jihan. She could feel your strap-on be dragged out of her gaping asshole before ramming back in. 

After some time, you were done with Jihan. You looked at your work, Jihan was left with a gaping asshole that was desperate to close. You licked your fingers and teased Jihan’s ass, running your fingers along the edges. Jihan’s tired whimpers were music to your ears. “Jihan, after work, I’m planning on eating out. You’ll join me, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an order to her, one that she wouldn’t refuse.

You head to a bar after work, Jihan tagging along with some of the other managers. They weren’t the ones she had talked to, so they didn’t suspect anything about her being there. It allowed you to play with your toy. You kept one hand on Jihan’s backside, rubbing your fingers against her tender asshole. Jihan suffered in silence as her cock twitched just under the table they were at. She tried her best to chat, but when you pushed your fingers deeper into her. Jihan came in an instant, her cum spurting onto the underside of the table. It dripped onto her exposed thighs as the night went on, leaving a mess on her that she would need to clean up. 

You let go of Jihan after, letting her treat the night normally. She was tired, though; your little session from earlier left her exhausted. You took her home after, telling her how much you enjoyed her heat cycle. Jihan whispered about enjoying it, too. Managing to hear her, you told the young woman that you'd treat her well when you found her in heat again. Jihan’s ears perked up. She was happy to hear that, and she meekly thanked you.

[solargeist]

you made a post explaining him becoming a watcher.. can we hear about him running away, the relapse, etc, pretty pretty please? :>

with a cherry on top? lol!

hmmm !! It might not be as long as the other post, but...

The body horror of changing into an angel isn't the sole reason Grian wanted to leave the Watchers, there was a brief moment in time where he wondered if it'd be worth it, but wings are the first to grow, the rest take much longer as they're not as needed as wings are. Despite how much it hurt, he's pretty proud of his wings, and he enjoys flying.

He sticks around long enough to learn how to fly, he gets rly good at it, flinging himself down the halls followed by a strong breeze, flying up high in the air outside and then dropping, he gets confident in this. (hes like rainbow dash to me-)

Along with that, he studies Watcher magic, he learns Portal magic, which is being able to open portals without the help of obsidian or rituals. This can also be used in fights, see: opening a portal where a person's head is, or a tiny strip shooting from his fingers like bullets, (like lasers, but those bits of flesh end up somewhere.) but the part he focuses most on is opening portals to other servers. He's always supervised, they always visit servers with him--but usually close it without going through anyway. The Watchers are more precise with it, knowing exactly where they want to go, Grian only opens random ones.

Other reasons he wants to leave is, being treated like a child, the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. They control his sleep, his food, where he goes, what he does, even what he says. Along with studying and training, hes exhausted, the resentment builds over time, any nice moment is buried by bad ones. He trains with Flora, another Watcher, whose idea of training is to just release mobs after him, creatures he's never seen before, he's unsure if they shoot fire, poison, or explode. Being pinned against the ground by a creature with its teeth bared around his sword is a sight he doesn't forget. If Flora feels like he rly can't do it, she'll kill the creature herself. Grian doesn't forget how the blood and gore feels dumped on his face and body, nor the disappointed look on her face.

This all, along with knowing his friends have left him--and they're not going to save him, has him plotting, desperate to think of how to get out of the void. He can't just run away while on a Watcher job on a random server, they will find him.

He doesn't pick a date--theres no sun anyway, he doesn't know what days or weeks are anymore. Its one particular breakdown that makes him act, he has no full plan, but what he does have is explosives he's been collecting from servers over time and stashing under his bed. He doesn't pack anything, all he does is set the explosives off and runs. I haven't thought abt this particular part fully, it happens so quickly for him, if he makes eye contact with his mum on his way out, he doesn't hesitate to take to the skies, before he can lose his nerve.

Shooting out into the void, he doesn't have a plan, but he keeps flying as fast as he can before regret can catch up with him. He opens portals in front of himself and dives through as they shatter behind him, he doesn't know where hes going. He pops out in random parts of the void, different islands he doesn't recognize, he comes across servers torn apart by war or genuinely not safe enough to land, so he keeps going.

Grian doesn't know how long he's been flying, his sense of time is completely fried, but hes tired, he's never flown for so long before. He hops through another portal into another world, dark and quiet, but lights shining from large buildings scattered about, there must be a lot of players here so he thinks he should leave quickly, but before he can do that, his foot snags a tree top and throws him off balance, his attempt to catch himself only propels himself forward, crashing through branches and sliding across the dirt below. He doesn't know if it was the trees or the ground, but his left wing snaps, he doesn't know if he screamed or not, but he lays in the dirt writhing for awhile, muscles aching and emotions finally grasping at him, pulling him apart.

But ! Still not time to think abt all that rn, bc Xisuma finds him. Grian's first thought isn't that this is a player, all he can see under that helmet is eyes, and his first thought is Watchers--they found him immediately--and he screams this time, flipping over and putting his hands in front of himself for any fighting, he can't hear whatever Xisuma's saying over his own shouting, angrily stating he won't go back. He calms down after a moment when he sees Xisuma has stepped back, hands up to show he's friendly. Grian doesn't care though, hes sliding backwards on his hands, his wings twitch and he winces in pain. I think it takes a little bit of persuading, but after Xisuma explains himself, that hes an admin and this is his server and people, Grian calms down a bit, the exhaustion helps with this too. He ends up accepting Xisuma's help in bracing his wing. Taking him back to his base to do so, Grian would've ran again if he could've. They both agree that Grian will leave as soon as he can, but he is safe here to wait until then.

Back at his base, Xisuma makes them both tea and sits in front of Grian, telling him he has to explain himself. Grian doesn't touch his tea, and after a long pause, he gives the shortest story with the least amount of details possible. Xisuma knows what Watchers are already, so he does feel some sympathy for him.. He would feel concern abt the Watchers finding his server, but hes confident enough in his code. Grian stays that night, he hides under a bed and cries, still never drinking the tea, but he falls asleep.

UH fast forward fast forward Grian is invited to the server, and he does join as s6 starts, his wing still in bandages but doing much better now. He still hasn't met any players or heard much abt them. He's shocked to see Pearl, but also very happy--his sister !! his sister ?!?!?! She looks happy too, so he rushes forward and they hug, shes gotten so tall. He promises to tell her what happened later, but he still leaves out a lot of details.

This is getting long again fast forward fast forward again

The relapsing happens throughout s6, Grian overworks himself, insecure and nervous in his building ability--it almost feels like Evo again, wishing he could do better, scared to disappoint Xisuma and be kicked out for not being worth the trouble.

Grian's gotten rly close with his neighbour Mumbo, he'll take a break for Mumbo, to hang out with him. Grian has a problem with hoarding food, he never had control over it with the Watchers, so now on his own, he can't bare to throw anything out, he keeps things despite the smell or mold. Good bits of food sat with the rotten, but he doesn't eat either anyway, he just wants to have it, safe, where he can get to it easily, and he doesn't have to ask anyone. It takes Mumbo awhile to talk him into cleaning that out, its dangerous ! Even during the conversation Grian is slowly closing the cabinet Mumbo is trying to look into it, holding eye contact and desperately trying to convince Mumbo its fine (it is NOT.) Mumbos taken to sharing his lunch with him most days, or bringing snacks he claims he made too much of--or he bought too much by mistake, just to make sure he eats something.

Grian has a hard time living alone, he loses track of time and doesn't eat, or doesn't get the right amount of sleep. He feels lonely in his large build. The Watchers' controlled his entire life, so he doesn't know what to do with it now that its his again. When he thinks about it too long, it starts to ache, that little part of him never went away, the guilt, regret, and remorse, builds every time he doubts himself, he misses his bed !--Back in the void, that bed, this still doesn't feel like home, in some sick twisted way he feels homesick. Mumbo finds him at his base one day with his head buried in his knees crying, but when Grian notices he immediately pretends he was not crying, despite the red puffy eyes and tear stained face, he smiles and asks: whats up !! Hello whats up ! Mumbo laughs in horrified confusion, asking what happened. Grian says Nothing. Mumbo sits next to him and says c'mon mate what is this. Grian sighs and sinks back into himself, face dropping and exposing how tired he is. Grian slowly explains himself--at first leaving out many details--he just says he ran away from home before joining Hermitcraft, but he still misses his family sometimes--even if they hurt him. Mumbo thinks this is much deeper than he thought it'd be, but he encourages Grian to continue, and he does. Grian ends up telling Mumbo everything, absolutely everything, every humiliating detail and embarrassment, every memory good or bad. At some point they start telling family stories to each other, and Grian isn't crying anymore, they're both laughing, sat right next to each other. Its a huge relief. Grian poured his soul out to Mumbo and he held it so carefully.

late s6 and s7 go pretty smoothly--Watcher wise, Grian adjusts to life on his own and within a new community. Grian learns to fly again, he makes his wings his own and dyes them parrot colours.

I can't fit the rest, but he gets possessed by an alternate version of himself in s8, i think the Watchers find him as well bc of this timeline chaos. And the moons falling. Its a lot for him to emotionally deal with !

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

[apocalypseornaw]

Chapter Two

Settling in a new place, even temporarily takes time. You set out to get the twins in a daycare, Hayley goes to finish her ged and you find a job.

Dean takes a notice to how jumpy the new neighbors.

"Mom, are you sure they're gonna be ok?" Hayley asked as the two of you walked out of the daycare Simon and Kiya recommend for the twins. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding "If Simon and Kiya trust it, so do I. They haven't let us down yet" the place was locked up tightly and had a security guard. It wasn't some run of the mill place that just anyone could walk into.

She looked back over her shoulder one more time before nodding "Ok. I have my test scheduled for an hour" she'd decided to take her ged. You'd talked to Simon and as soon as she passed that meant he could cover her trail but also it would clear up any issues moving forward with her should she want to pursue college and keep you clear of truancy.

"Are you sure you want to do this? The local high school is supposed to be good! Plus they just got out so you'd have all summer to get ready" you wanted to make sure this was her choice, not what she felt like she needed to do. She smiled "It is. I can be through with school and help you out more. I can get a job part time or just watch James and Amelia more" "or just try to be a teenager" you offered and she laughed "or that"

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

The first week or so that all of you were in town you spent simply getting used to the new house, routes to the grocery store, the daycare, nearest hospital and fastest way out of town. Everything you normally did when you ended up in a new place. You and Hayley practically had a checklist at this point.

Your neighbors Dean and Ben had proven to be fairly quiet considering. In fact the only times you'd heard anything from them was doors shutting when they'd come or go.

You'd saw in the paper Ben was in the recent graduating class so you weren't sure if he'd be leaving for college or sticking around. Not like it mattered, the four of you would be here a year tops before you'd have to move again. Like Hayley said, the only way to keep them safe was to keep moving. You couldn't let your past catch up with your kids.

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

"Mom!" Hayley's voice made your head snatch in her direction. The two of you were standing next to your car but she was pointing a bit down the street to a rather large car garage "Winchester's Auto. Think that's our neighbors?" You shrugged "Possibly. Not like we know the area well enough to know if they're the only Winchesters" it would make sense though.

Along with the Winchester's Auto, there was Harvelle's diner which belonged to one of your landlords Ellen, a coffee shop, a bakery and a few shops in the main strip of town without going into any big chain stores. And lucky for you the bakery and coffee shops had now hiring signs in the window. "I'm going to take you to the library then head to the bakery first to check on putting in an application" you told Hayley as you backed out the parking lot. She nodded and held up her phone "I'll call if anything comes up"

Ben moved around the garage as well as he moved around his bedroom at home. He'd practically grew up in the place. At one time it'd been his great grandmother's and from what he knew the only thing worth passing down from the Winchester line. His grandpa Bobby had come into possession of it to keep it in the family when the threat of back taxes almost took it then when his dad was ready to take it over Bobby had signed it over to him.

He'd known how to work on an engine before he could ever legally drive on the road. Now that he had graduated he was taking classes at the local tech College and working in the garage. It paid good, he enjoyed it and it wasn't too bad having your dad as your boss.

"Ben" he heard his dad's voice and stepped back from under the hood of the car he was currently working on "Yes sir?"

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

Dean was working on a stack of paperwork higher than his damn head when the phone in his office started ringing. He hated this side of the business. He loved working on cars, he loved owning the garage but the damn paperwork gave him a fucking headache.

He dug around for the phone before finally finding it "Winchester's Auto" he answered it a bit more gruff than he meant to and heard Bobby's scoff of a laugh "Been meaning to call you son. Have you met the neighbors?"

He sat back in his chair and nodded to himself more than anything, running a hand over his head. He needed a hair cut considering he now had to push his hair out of his face at times. He was starting to look like Sam. "Yeah. What happened to giving us a heads up before someone moves in?"

"An old friend's son called. He knew her, said she's in a tight spot and needed a place. She's a single mom with three kids Dean. What was I supposed to tell her? No? Would you rather her or some loud obnoxious assholes?"

Bobby was right, of course. Dean would much rather have Y/N and her kids next door than most other options but it made him wonder just why she was in a tight spot. Any time he'd seen her she seemed so, alert? No that's not the right word, spooked? Like she's waiting for someone to try to hurt her or one of her kids and that didn't sit right with him.

"Bobby, what she running from?" He knew he shouldn't sound so damn protective over someone he barely knew but he blamed it on how the man on the other end of the phone had raised him. "I wouldn't bring anything dangerous to yours and Ben's doorstep" Bobby reassured and Dean chuckled "Not what I asked. Have you met her?"

"Not yet. She's talked to Ellen though, I figured she'd be more comfortable with her for now" Dean nodded "What did Ellen say?" "She seems like a sweetheart but scared" "yeah she does" Dean agreed then ran a hand down his face "What did you need anyways?" Bobby laughed "I need to talk to my grandson and he leaves his phone on vibrate while he's at work so can you get him to the phone?" "Yes sir" Dean laughed and clicked the call onto hold before heading out to find Ben.

When you pulled up the library Hayley had just called you to say she was ready so it was perfect timing. You watched the door as she damn near came skipping out. When she spotted the car the skip turned into a car. You raised an eyebrow when she collapsed into the passenger seat with a broad grin "Let Simon know I passed!" "You passed?!" You squealed and pulled her into a hug.

She squeezed you then pulled back "How'd the job hunt go?" "I got the job at the bakery! Split hours but full time" she grinned "Awesome! Can we go pick up the twins now?" You laughed lightly and nodded "Yeah. We can go pick up the twins now"

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

Everything was always a slow go at first then before you knew it time would slip and it would be the time to make that move again but for now you'd enjoy the few moments to catch your breath and enjoy what victories you could.

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

Later that night after the twins and Hayley was asleep you were double checking the windows and doors. You couldn't sleep despite knowing you started work in two days. It was safe for now, he didn't know where you were. There was no way he could. Simon and Kiya covered every move you made. The job wasn't under your real name, the daycare wasn't under their real last names.

You checked the window over the kitchen sink, it looked over partially into Dean's backyard. You could see his firepit and a few chairs around it. Your heart ached for something so simple. A since of safety, to let down your guard that easily. You sighed and closed the curtain before deciding to go to bed as well. Morning could come quicker than you'd like and the twins never slept in.

@stillhere197

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Request: IDW, Brainstorm/Getaway, simultaneous penetration (idk if there's an accurate descriptor, imagine them fucking/being fucked each other at same time). I really enjoy the idea of Storm (a self-proported egomaniac) and Getaway (often puts a facade of sucking up as a means)

Additional content: Rough sex, (kinda) quid pro quo

Brainstorm sighs as he finally opens the door to meet Getaway who’d been pestering him from behind the thick (but clearly not thick enough if Getaway’s voice could still make it through) metal, glaring at the sly mech. Getaway doesn’t wait a moment before pushing in past Brainstorm while rambling off but Brainstorm had stopped listening a while ago.

Grabbing Getaway by the shoulder, Brainstorm turns him around, “I told you to lay off already! I have too many projects as it is, I don’t need to take on whatever inane idea you have.”

Undeterred, Getaway presses into his space, “Aw, c’mon… It’s just a little pistol. You love making those!”

Brainstorm scoffs and pushes him back before going to his workbench, determined to ignore Getaway but now that menace is actually in his lab, and knowing that is like an itch on the back of Brainstorm’s helm… There’s a long beat of silence before Brainstorm feels a light tickle on one of his mounted guns and he whips around to grab Getaway’s wrist only to be crowded against his workbench.

“What’s all of this for anyway?” Getaway’s tone dips into something smooth, confident even, “You’ve been on strangely good behavior lately… why is that? It’s not because of Perceptor, is it?”

Brainstorm stiffens and tries to push Getaway back only for the speedster to grab his hips, thumbs gliding over his plating.

“There’s no use in trying to impress the guy, Stormy, he’s just his own kind of mad genius stuck in his own little world,” Getaway insists as he tucks his pointer digits into the seams of Brainstorm’s panty plates, teasing the delicate wiring there, “You should focus on someone who already appreciates your talents…”

It’s pointless to resist the sensation, Brainstorm shivers at the charge crackling from Getaway’s hands, all the way up his spinal strut.

“You make it sound like your idea is actually worth my time,” Brainstorm scoffs but his cocky attitude is severely diminished by the soft hum of his fans.

“But Stormy…” Getaway’s hand travels around Brainstorm’s hip and trails down lightly to cup his codpiece, earning a soft grunt, “You know I’m good for it.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Brainstorm grits out as Getaway starts rubbing over his panel, sending little sparks of charge through it. He stumbles back a bit, propping himself up on his workbench while Getaway rubs his panels.

Getaway follows after him eagerly and Brainstorm groans at the soft hiss of Getaway releasing and pressurizing his spike, “Ugh, how do I keep letting myself get here?”

“You know I can give you what you want, what you need,” Getaway purrs, finding the manual release on Brainstorm’s panels and dipping a digit into Brainstorm’s warm valve to coax it into producing lubricant.

Brainstorm sucks in more air through his vents and spreads his legs, letting Getaway finger his pale valve, the thin strips of biolights flaring as lubricant begins to trail down Getaway’s fingers. Getaway slips his digits out of Brainstorm’s valve and slides his slick fingers up Brainstorm’s spike before curling his hand around it to squeeze firmly, forcing a groan out of Brainstorm.

“Just make up your mind already!” Brainstorm snaps only to be cut off by a moan as Getaway starts pumping his fist over Brainstorm’s spike.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying something. You like innovation, so, you’re gonna love this,” Getaway taunts as he shifts his legs, hooking one over Brainstorm’s hips.

There’s a distinct creak of metal as Brainstorm grips the edge of the workbench at the feeling of Getaway pushing his valve onto Brainstorm’s spike, the tight little space already feeling so wet and hot.

“Hah, n-now the tricky part…” Getaway swallows down his moans and moves back slightly to grab his own spike, basking under Brainstorm’s rapt attention as he watches Getaway move his spike down to rub against the folds of Brainstorm’s valve. It takes some maneuvering and more than a little cursing until Getaway’s spike is rubbing against Brainstorm’s spikes now both firmly pushing into each other’s valves.

“Ah… this is definitely one of your more creative ideas,” Brainstorm pants out only to grab at Getaway as he starts to finally move.

The movements of their hips are awkward and jittery at first, unused to the position until they’re just pushing and grinding against each other, their spikes no longer rubbing roughly together now sliding with the aid of the lubricant building between their valves. As they grind against each other, their anterior nodes bump and flare as the touch completes the circuit, making the charge bloom between them. It’s a mess of heat and charged lubricant that has Brainstorm feeling like he’s losing his mind, finding it hard to tell where he begins and Getaway ends. He feels so full as Getaway’s spike pulses in his valve, the shallow ridge just under the head of his spike catching and connecting with the strips of nodes along Brainstorm’s soft walls as he feels his own spike practically milked by Getaway’s valve that spasms and squeezes around his spike.

Brainstorm hefts Getaway up and flips them around to pin Getaway down, hiking his leg up higher to get closer, deeper as he curls his own leg up over Getaway’s other leg to plant a knee on the bench, now properly fragging Getaway. Lubricant drips onto the pristine surface as Brainstorm uses Getaway’s spike and valve, their valves kissing every time Brainstorm thrusts against Getaway who can do nothing now locked in Brainstorm’s hold and wracked with the charge building between them. Getaway grabs at Brainstorm’s back, trying to find a purchase on anything as his legs twitch uselessly against Brainstorm and he tucks his head against Brainstorm’s shoulder, his processor feeling fully fried. His back hits the bench as Brainstorm slams him down, pushing as deep as he can into Getaway while taking his spike in equal measure and Getaway feels heat bloom inside his valve as a sudden wave of charge overwhelms him, dragging him into overload by force.

Getaway’s digits scratch up Brainstorm’s paint as he cries out, shaking as he spills his own load into Brainstorm as more and more of Brainstorm’s transfluid fills his hungry valve until he’s weak and fully spent. Transfluid and lubricant run down his thighs as Brainstorm pulls away, leaving him feeling far too cold as the frigid air of the lab brushes against Getaway’s exposed spike and valve now a mess of fluids, his spike still twitching in the air. Brainstorm picks up a cloth and starts cleaning himself of their mixed lubricant and transfluid, unbothered by the mech he’s left mewling on his workbench.

“Fine, I’ll work on your stupid pistol while you clean that up,” Brainstorm flicks his chin and Getaway follows the motion to look at the small puddle that formed along with the small patch on the edge of the workbench that’s dripping down.

“Heh, sure, no problem,” Getaway catches the other cloth Brainstorm picks up and tosses at him, waiting until Brainstorm is engrossed in his work to stand on incredibly jittery legs, hissing, “Damn…”

[lyscot-blog]

I find adding scars to elves makes them 10x cooler. As a kid, Illidan is my warcraft 3 pick, I love it whenever Iorveth opens his mouth and Captain Mithrun is one of my all-time favourites. All of them have scars and all of them are hunters (demons or humans). Of course there are other scarred elves. But my love lies in the three. They have a common pattern be it by design or story arcs. But why? Why do I like this pattern so much? Let me try to justify myself to myself.

*Spoilers for Dungeon Meshi, Witcher 2 and Warcraft 3??? (not that heavy I guess, spoilers for Mithrun's past tho)

For my heart to elven scars, let’s talk about an archetype of elves. To be honest, I like dwarves more (love Senshi of course and Muradin). Elves are usually portrayed as the word "divine", attractive, forevermore, pure, vined and shaped with the letter V. They are humans but "better". An impossibly polished human. But maybe that’s why I find most elves boring. They're too clean, too good, too skilled. Many put elven flaws as being too prideful with their perfection that they refuse to lower their sharp noses for other races. Nothing more to that than an arrogant side character. I want more but for me they're either so perfect or have a veneer of perfection.

Elves with scars? The outer layer of perfection is slashed open. You can see the scars, the flesh, the mistakes, the flaws, and they bleed just as any other creature. It tells you a lot. To see a misfire and their eyes are often the target. Ethereal beauties with enchanting eyes and nigh accurate vision, gone. Scars runs down their face, forced to show their flaws. Their pride stripped away. Nothing left but a ruined elf. A mess in both appearance and style. Illidan overcomplicates himself, Iorveth’s wears ragged leftovers and Mithrun cannot do anything. But I much prefer this over the polished and decorate look of typical elves. It's like preferring to wear ripped jeans over a cleanly ironed skirt.

But ultimately they would despise whoever ripped them apart. Illidan, Iorveth and Mithrun are willing to sacrifice themselves to meet face to face with those that disfigured them, the enemy they vowed to rid the world of. The enemy that sought to ruin them forever, to ruin what makes an elf, an elf. Ostracizing them. Sparing them, reminding them. Morphing them into a vassal of vengeful vendetta, cynical and blunt. It will forever be a part of themself. But it's hard to say if they ever truly accept their scars. Still, they don’t care to keep up the elven grace and pride anymore, they are outsiders now. But they are not alone. They are leaders of their own group of course. Illidari, Scoiathel and Canaries are a collection of outcasts, far from perfect.  Though they might suffered alone back then, they found their own community and companions that accepts them. In each of their stories, they even found unlikely loyal allies (at least in a Witcher 2 path and Warcraft 3).

It’s still the rule of cool in the end, but I definitely will be attached to them as I dive deeper into their character. I root for those dead-focused haywired eyes. Getting myself so engrossed to see them being not so heroic, yet trying to their best to seek their own justice and self-worth.  They’re never truly aimless, they just need to find their target.

[satansaidnottoday]

Twinning: part 2.

Part 1

Info: Human AU, Lucifer's Mc, Mammon & GN!Mc.

Summary: Mammon helps out with preparations for the party.

Every day you make up at 3am sharp to start baking. Nonstop measuring, mixing, pipping, and decorating until it's opening time. Mondays are the only day off, the only day a week you close down the café and take time for yourself.

Yet today you're awake at 3am on a Monday, bending over a DIY starlight curtain. And for what? Some kids you barely know the name of? Pity for a man who probably makes three times more than you? You didn't even know this family two weeks ago. And still, you keep gluing strips of LED lights together. It takes about two hours to be done, but it's beautiful and completely worth it. It takes another three hours until you've finished hot gluing starts into constellations on a navy blue banner. You would hang it up behind the glittery letters that spelled out their names.

You needed to prep just one last thing before the day. You know two things about these kids, one likes constellations, and the other will finish a cupcake in a single bite. So, a space cake it is. You would make it with leftover sheets, fondant, and cream to reduce cost. Making all the decorations for free was a lot on your wallet already. You got ready to have breakfast before starting when the doorbell rang. You make your way down the stairs, expecting maybe a delivery or a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar.

Instead, you find a man with messily bleached locks and the biggest yellow-tinted sunglasses you've ever seen. You wondered how he managed to see on a cloudy day.

"Hey! What's up with the door? It won't open!" He asks, before looking you up and down. Probably surveying the glue and glitter covering your old clothes.

"We're closed today..." You say, ready to close the door on his face, until you remember where you knew him from. The one very loud teenager following Lucifer around. "Are you Lucifer's brother?"

"Ya, Mammon, remember my name next time, I'm not just someone's brother." He says, indignant. "What even happened to you anyways?"

You would feel offended if you had any energy left for that. "Your brother."

"What?" He lifts an eyebrow, and you barely see it through his glasses.

"I'm making decorations for the twins's birthday," you explain, asking yourself why you are even entraining him.

"Ah, Lucifer did say something about that. But it's like a week away, why are you doing it now?"

"Because today is my only free day," you answer, patience wearing thin. "And I still have stuff to do, so..."

"Wait, but isn't that part of your job? Decoration and shit." He looked at you with a confused face. You felt a headache building up.

"No, I just rented him the place," you said sharply and opened your mouth again to say goodbye, before he interrupted.

"Since you're already working on your free day, can I have a caramel late? With soy milk, please." He smiles.

You close the door on his face.

"Hey, wait! I'll pay for it! Don't leave me out!" You hear him scream, but you just turn around and start going upstairs. He doesn't stop at all, just screaming louder with every step you take. "I'LL HELP WITH THE DECORATIONS!" He tries again, and you stop to think about it for a moment. "COME ON! I KNOW THEM BETTER!" He did make a good point.

After some more consideration (and some more screaming), you turn back and open the door for him.

"You're unbearable." You say when he finally stops screaming.

"Unforgettable, you mean." He runs his hand through his hair.

"Does this usually work for you?"

He does a weighting motion with his hands. "Fifty-fifty."

You let out a deep sigh, starting to understand Lucifer. "I can offer café con leche and leftover cat croissants," you tell him.

"Can it be soy milk? Please," he asks, tilting his head on what you think is an attempt to look cute.

"No."

He sighs this time, with fake exasperation. He looks at you pleading. You start to close the door again.

"Okay, I'll take it!" He says, launching himself inside before you can close the door.

He, in fact, didn't have a single problem gulping down the coffee with whole milk. Nor eating three whole croissants before even speaking.

"You got a nice place, how much do you pay on rent?" Of course he started with that. No thanks, no sorry for screaming my lungs off in front of your house.

"I own it." That was your only answer.

"Shit, really? You must be loaded!"

"I'm not, I just inherited it from my grandma. I had to pour all of my life savings and get a loan to open up the café. So I'm less than wealthy, I'm in crippling debt." You take a sip of your black coffee, washing your worries down your throat.

"Damn," he said, mouth half full of croissant. "That sucks."

You nod in response.

"You looking for a roommate? I can pay rent when I get a job."

"So, you can't pay rent now?…" He shakes his head. "So you would live here for free until you get a job?" He nods. "I'll pass for now."

"That sucks too..." He doesn't stop eating to feel bad tho.

"You don't like living with your brother?" You question, taking away the empty plate of croissants.

"It's not that, I'm just tired of depending on him."

"So your plan was to depend on a total stranger instead."

"I didn't think about it like that, okay?" He leans on his hands over the table.

You laugh and his cheeks grow red.

"Whatever, let's make festoons or something." He says, trying to change the subject.

"Ah, I'm already done with decorations," you admit.

He immediately stands up from his chair. "Oh well, then I should get going so I don't mess up your schedule anymore." He said, leaning down to grab his jacket, you stop his hand mid-air, holding his wrist.

"I do need help making the party hats, though."

He lets out an exhausted moan, letting himself fall backward. You're both sitting down on the floor, surrounded by cardboard paper and glitter stars. You had a system where you cut out the hats and decorations, and then passed them to him to assemble. In an hour, he has managed to finish a total of three hats. You had nothing else to cut, so you scooted closer and started assembling yourself.

"Come on, only six to go," you encouraged him.

He begrudgingly sat up again and grabbed one of the paper sheets to roll it into a cone. "This is so boooring. And your music is all old and sad."

You refrained from answering, instead opting to make conversation.

"How are you guys liking the new neighborhood?" You ask. You really wanted to inquire more about their family dynamic, but figured you weren't close enough yet.

"It's... nicer than our last place," he says. "It's safer, you know. There's kids playing outside and shit."

You nod.

"And you have some pretty nice neighbors." He looks at you confused. "I hear they will make you coffee even if you're annoying."

He scoffs. "In exchange for physical labor!"

"Oh, come on, it's putting double-sided tape on paper stars."

"It's abusive," he retorts, yet keeps on taping the stars on.

"It's for your brothers, don't you want to give them a cute birthday?" You ask with a playful tone.

"Of course I do! What I don't understand is why YOU are so invested in this if Lucifer isn't even paying for it."

He looks at you expectantly. After a few seconds pass by and it doesn't seem like he will relent, you stop to think. He is right, you have no stakes in this. So what if the kids don't have a nice cake and personalized decorations, it doesn't affect you. And it's not like they would have nothing. A lukewarm birthday party has never killed anyone. So why even bother? You would like to pretend you didn't know the answer.

"Heeeey!" He snaps his fingers a few times. "I'm serious, why are you so invested in this?"

"Because of your brother."

"Belphegor or Beel?" He asks, looking confused.

"Lucifer..." You admit.

"What? Why? It's not his birthday."

"It's not but this matters to him," you drop the finished Ursa Minor party hat into the box with the rest.

"How do you know that?" He insists.

"Because he looks so fucking sad!" You explode on his face. He backs up a little. "Sorry..."

"What do you mean sad?..." He asks in a smaller voice than before.

You take a deep breath.

"He looks so sad whenever he can't give you guys something you want, I can tell he feels bad," you say, putting into words a thought you've had since the day you met. "I know this is important for him, so I want to help him out."

Mammon stays silent, staring holes into you. After a few moments, he grabs the hat he was working on and keeps going. You both work in silence until they are all done.

"Well, you probably should get going now that we're done," you said, standing up.

He nods and follows you downstairs to the door.

"Thanks for the help, you can come back for your late tomorrow when the café is open." You hold the door open for him.

He nods again, but stays still, thinking. Finally, he turns to you.

"Thank you…" he says. You tilt your head, confused. "For caring for him, I mean. I try to, we all try to care for each other but, you know. He's the oldest and I guess we all expect him to care for us, so it's nice to know someone cares for him."

He quickly walks away, leaving you speechless at the doorway.

Feeling decent now. I tried something new with the writing in this one. Let me know if you like it.

Thanks for reading!

[ai-the-broccoli]

AIKA (Love / Elegy)

I sang and recorded this in several hours of karaoke sessions over two days during the summer. my throat was very sore throughout, and I caught a fever after that, but I think it was halfway worth it.

I wrote the lyrics myself.

the music is from a certain song that you may very well have heard of (okay, yes, it's a parody of "Love Story").

It was record with mobile phones.

I really do not know how audio editing works.

the song is a bit high for my vocal range "comfort zone", also like I said my throat got very sore after the first few times (and because it's my own lyrics, I needed some tries to adjust to singing the entire thing)

the album picture you see above is a piece of fanart, drawn by me, of Himena Aika and San Kagura. it is not that directly connected to the content in this song (since this song is technically more about Himena and Hiko) but it feels like an idol album cover sort of thing if that makes sense lmao.

While the song was written for a certain Magia Record fanfic of mine, you 100% don't need to have read the fic (or even know MagiReco, really) to listen to it lol

my lyrics under the cut:

(note: this is the lyrics of the original version of this parody song, the one in the fic; the karaoke remix version has some slight changes due to it being karaoke and also remix [w/ like parts of 6 different takes layered over each other])

AIKA (愛歌・哀歌)

[Himena] We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes, and we think back as one:

[Both] Let’s take a trip Down the resounding lane

[Hiko] The school bell rings, I’m walking on my own As you light your way through the crowd And wink at me…

[Himena] Little did they know —

[Hiko] ‘Cause you were Himena, you could outshine the Sun And all your friends orbited your glowing crown In shadows I stood alone Till you tiptoed to join me…

And you sang —

[Himena] “Hiko-kun, let’s go, find us some paper strips, I'll be wishing, for our love to always live. Stars in the sky, we’re Vega and Altair, Just like a love song — we’ll resonate forever.”

<music>

[Himena] I sneak out to see you; don’t wanna face the music We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they hear ‘Cause they don’t get…

[Hiko] That true love doesn’t care

[Both]

— Oh, no!

[Himena] 'Cause you were Hiko-kun, and I noticed too late, All my friends laughed, chanting, “Just move on!” But you were everything to me I was begging, "Don’t do it — no!"

And I sang —

“Hiko-kun, let’s go, find us some paper strips, I'll be wishing, for our love to always live.

[Hiko] Stars in the sky, we’re Vega and Altair, Our tragic love song — shall pass down forever.”

[Both] Hiko-kun, don’t let them, decide how we truly feel (Himena, don’t let them, deny what is truly here) This love is different, but it's as real (This tune is difficult, but it is haunting!) One and the same, we’ll rise above the crowd (One and the same, our rhythm over them all) In this jolly love song, we harmonize together (An elegy we lament, be resonant forever)

<music>

[Himena] I got tired of searching Wondering when I would hear you again My one true love was fading Away into silence no one could bear

And I sang —

"Hiko-kun, how dare they, be so loud they drowned you out, I keep listening, but your voice has disappeared. Not an echo comes back, however much I may shout," And then at long last, you spoke to me and sang —

[Hiko] “Here I am, Himena; you never have to sing alone, I am you, and

[Himena] None can ever tear apart!

[Hiko] No more wishing papers,

[Himena] Do we need from now on,

[Both] Let’s harmonize forever — A one-and-only love song!”

<music>

[Hiko] ‘Cause we were both young when you first saw me…

[sergeantgoggles]

I have a job interview in the morning but I can't sleep, so here's Tech's POV of the little drabble I wrote earlier.

(Hunter's POV)

The first time Hunter and Tech fall into bed together is no accident, in Tech's opinion, even if it wasn't planned. It's been building for a long time, putting pressure on a well-built dam that was inevitably going to collapse, and Tech is prepared for it when it does. The way he chases Hunter's lips with an enthusiasm fueled by adrenaline and how Hunter slides their fingers together as he bottoms out inside of him have Tech instantly addicted to the rush. Maybe it wasn't part of the plan, but it is a welcome development.

They never speak about it.

The third time they tangle in the sheets feels more intentional than the last two times, and Tech has never felt more beautiful than when Hunter has him stripped and dusted in the sweetest rose blush as he fucks up into him. His stormy eyes are filled with desire, with lust, with...Tech doesn't want to name it, but it's warm and inviting in a way that feels like coming home, something else he doesn't have a real concept of, but he finds no better way to describe it, and it's harder to force himself from Hunter's arms come morning.

They still don't talk about it.

The fifth and sixth times they fall into bed is when Tech starts to think that this might not be the scenario he had been operating under. Nights when he doesn't go crawling to Hunter because he needs a fix are spent analyzing every piece of material he can find, every shred of evidence that points to a deeper meaning, and he doesn't understand why it doesn't seem to work for them. It isn't *nothing*, right? He definitely feels something for Hunter, but Tech is positive it isn't supposed to feel like the air is being ripped from his lungs every time he sneaks away in the middle of the night back to his own bed.

And he puts distance between them. They don't talk about it.

The seventh, eighth, and ninth times leave Tech hollow and used. The sex is good, but that's all it is now. Maybe that's all it ever was and his over-analytical self has mistaken what he thought were deeper feelings for something else. But Tech can't get enough, and now that's he's had Hunter holding him like he's worth more than whatever price tag the Kaminoans have attached to him, kissing him like he needs him to breathe...how is he supposed to keep pretending that he isn't slowly dying inside with no way of knowing how to relieve the symptoms without Hunter? And then Hunter sends him away, and Tech almost pretends he doesn't understand him even though he's made it perfectly clear that this was never more than the human male desire to seek release with another body. Tech pretends that he isn't devastated, but that isn't logical. None of this makes any sense. Everything he's read, everything he's felt...surely it isn't in his head? But it is. He's fabricated this fantasy and Hunter has merely played along.

And they finally talk about it.

Hunter listens as Tech bounces his leg on his bed, wrings his hands because he can't keep them still, and he tries so hard to just say the words, "I love you," but all that comes out is a garbled mess of thoughts and emotions that he can't process anymore. He's ran himself in circles, fallen down every rabbit hole, and now he's tangled and barely keeping himself together as he paces and his breath comes short and--

Then Hunter is kissing him, and the tenth time they fall in bed together feels like the first time all over again.

[smilingformoney]

Sharing Part VII | Lionel/Reader

Summary: Lionel's in for a punishment of his own when you get wind of his fling with PJ Puznowski.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“I thought I’d find you in here.”

Lionel tore his eyes from the remnants of the fake painting he’d almost parted with £12 million for, and his disappointment washed away when he laid eyes on something even more beautiful than any painting in his collection: you, in a slick black dress, crossing the threshold of the room that held Haystacks at Dawn.

”[Y/n]!” he grinned. “I’m so glad to see you. I was just considering packing in this droll party, but now you’re here, I’ll definitely pack it in. We’ll need the place to ourselves, after all.”

He slipped a hand around your waist and reached down to grab your ass as he kissed you. He tasted like expensive wine, and he smelt just as sensual as he always did. You almost gave in, basking in the feel of him, but then you remembered the woman you’d just passed on your way into the house.

Lionel had been fucking around. Now, he was about to find out.

You spotted the fake Haystacks at Dusk out of the corner of your eye as you parted for breath, and your curiosity got the better of you.

”Why is her maj watching us kiss?”

Lionel glanced back at the fake painting with a sigh. “I was almost fooled into buying a false Haystacks Dusk. Fortunately Deane realised the forgery… just moments after Zaidenweber declared it genuine. Needless to say, Zaidenweber won’t be my new curator after all.”

“I told you Harry was worth keeping around,” you said smugly. You had a soft spot for Harry Deane, finding his constant deference and bumbling endearing despite Lionel’s eternal annoyance at him - perhaps because he annoyed Lionel so much.

”Yes, well, too late for that. He quit on the spot. Now I’m left with no curator at all and Queen Elizabeth staring at me from within a fake Haystacks at Dusk.” He turned back to you with a smile. “But no matter. I still have Dawn, and more importantly, I have you. How was your flight?”

”Long. You really need to move to your office in California, Lionel, then there’d be none of this flying back and forth every six months business.”

Lionel smirked. “You’d have to drag me away from London kicking and screaming, love. Talking of screaming - it’s been a long night, and I sorely need a reprieve. I hope you don’t expect to walk away with that dress in one piece.”

”I know you better than that, sweetie. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from the gallery and up to one of the many bedrooms in his manor, letting him ramble on in his husky voice about all the things he was going to do to you - or all the things he thought he was going to do to you. You had a very different plan in mind, and Lionel wasn’t going to get any say in the matter.

As soon as the door was shut behind you, Lionel’s hands were on your body, grabbing hungrily at the fabric of your dress.

”This. Off. Now.”

You placed your hands over his to still his movements, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

”You first,” you insisted. “I flew all this way. I wanna see you strip for me.”

As if Lionel needed an excuse to get his clothes off. If he didn’t have to wear clothes to be seen in public, he’d never put them on in the first place. It had taken you by surprise the first time you’d come downstairs in the morning, he having woken and got up before you, and found him lying on the sofa stark naked. You certainly didn’t have reason to complain about his nudist habits - it just made him more accessible. You even began wearing less clothes around the house yourself, usually opting to just cover yourself with a robe until he inevitably threw it to the floor so he could worship your body.

Lionel was sat on the edge of the bed as he removed his final piece of clothing, tugging his trousers from his ankles, and before he could stand you quickly pushed his shoulders until he was laying on his back.

He chuckled, thinking he knew what was coming. He was sorely mistaken.

You hitched up your skirt and lifted a leg to straddle him. He felt your bare flesh press against his crotch, and he hummed in approval.

”No knickers? You filthy thing. I bet you’re not wearing a bra either, are you?”

He lifted his hands to pull your dress down, but you slapped them away. He frowned.

”Show Daddy your tits, [Y/n],” he said sternly.

You shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think you deserve them.”

”…Come again?”

You almost laughed at how genuinely confounded he was. Normally you were eager for him to paw at your chest, leaving bite marks and scratches behind, so your resistance at getting your tits out for him at all was certainly new.

”You heard me. Daddy’s been naughty. I don’t think he deserves to see my tits.”

Lionel pushed himself up with his elbows and snarled at you.

”Has six months with Michaelson made you forget who’s in charge here, little slut?”

You scoffed. “You’re calling me a slut? That’s rich.”

You and Lionel had fucked so many times in the rooms of his manor that most of them had some sort of toy lying around. This room, you had specifically led him to because you knew there was a pair of handcuffs in the bedside cabinet. You learned over now to reach into the drawer and, before Lionel could react, you had one of his wrists cuffed.

In his surprise, he fell back onto the pillows, and you took advantage of his temporary disorientation to grab his other wrist and lock both his wrists together above his head.

”What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lionel hissed. “Those are for your wrists, not mine.”

”Oh, but they look so good on you, Daddy,” you pouted.

”Let me go this instant!” Lionel demanded, tugging at the handcuffs as if that would help, and you just laughed at him. “Don’t you laugh at me, slut. You’re going to have to let me out eventually, and when I do, you and your arse are in for a big punishment. You won’t be able to sit for weeks. You won’t even be able to stand up straight, you’ll be stuck with your arse in the air, just waiting for me - mmph!”

You stopped his threats with a kiss, and despite his indignant anger, your lips were as irresistible to him as ever, and he whined into the kiss with a desperate need, his hips bucking up into yours as if hoping he could slip inside you.

“Oh, is there something Daddy wants?”

Lionel frowned at you. “You know exactly what I want. You’d better give me your cunt, [Y/n], or you’ll sorely regret it.”

You grinned, adjusted your position on top of him slightly, and wrapped your hand around his cock.

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

You stroked him once, just enough to taunt him.

“Sorry for what?”

You pouted.

“Daddy doesn’t even know what he did wrong,” you said with disappointment. “And he thinks he can have my cunt?”

Lionel hissed with frustration. Your thumb was on his tip now, teasing at the precum that was beginning to leak from him.

“You know I don’t like these games, [Y/n]. What do you think I’ve done?”

“Hmm…” You continued to stroke him slowly, with featherlight touches, just enough to keep him frustrated. “Maybe you need your memory jogged.” You leant over him, bringing your lips close to his ear, and you could feel his frustrated heavy breathing tickling your ear.

“Would you remember if I rode you?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, thinking he was getting what he wanted. “Yes, ride me, [Y/n], then I’m sure I’ll remember…”

“And tell me, Daddy - what’s the position called when a woman rides a man?”

“Erm - cowgirl?” Lionel said with a frown, which deepened when he realised what you were getting at. “Wait - is that what this is about? The cowgirl?”

You gave him a couple of tugs as a reward, then went back to your languid movements.

“Got there eventually. You really are slow when you’re thirsty, aren’t you, Daddy?”

“I don’t — what are you talking about, [Y/n]? I thought she had Haystacks at Dusk. Clearly, it was a fake. That’s all.”

You tugged on his earlobe with your teeth. “Liar.”

You released your grip on him, causing him to groan in frustration, then reached out to grab your bag from where it had been discarded on the floor. You pulled out your phone, pulled up a screenshot and showed it to him.

It was a photo of Lionel kissing PJ outside the Savoy, and a tweet caption: Lionel Shabandar kissing a woman that is definitely not [Y/n] [L/n].

“So I kissed her!” Lionel said incredulously. “I have a free pass for when you’re not here, don’t I?”

“Not all over Twitter!” you hissed, tossing the phone aside. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is -“ You took his cock in your hand again and tugged it, causing his hips to buck and a whine to escape his throat. “- when Eli comes shoving this in my face -“ Another tug, another whine, another buck of his hips. “- and then my mother sends it to me! She’s in bits because she thinks you’re cheating on me. How can I tell this innocent old lady that we’re open, huh? That you’re allowed to fuck other women?”

“I didn’t - fuck - I didn’t fuck her —”

“Stop lying to me, Lionel!” You groaned with frustration, releasing him from your grip to lean over him, hands either side of his head, trapping him beneath you. “You led her into the hotel —”

“And left twenty minutes later! She turned me down.”

You scoffed. “So you only tried to fuck her. Well, that’s alright, then, isn’t it?”

Lionel tugged on the handcuffs in frustration, but they were far too high-quality to budge.

“[Y/n] — I’m sorry, alright? If I’d known it would upset you, I wouldn’t have even gone near her.”

You hesitated, looking at him carefully, watching for any sign that he was lying.

“…Really?”

“Of course,” he said, as if you’d asked him something as obvious as the colour of the sky. “I love you, [Y/n]. She might have been a good fuck, but that’s not worth upsetting you over. Nothing is.”

“Not even if fucking her got you Haystacks at Dusk?”

“Not even for Haystacks at Dusk.”

You sat up, looking down at him, all anger and frustration dissipating from you in mere moments. You knew he loved you, but just like Eli, he had other priorities. For Eli, it was his ego. For Lionel, it was his art. And yet, here he was, insisting you meant more to him than Haystacks Dusk, and despite everything you believed him.

You uncuffed his wrists and he sighed with relief as he lowered his arms, hissing as he rubbed his sore wrists.

“You need practice with these. They were far too tight.”

“You offering to let me practice on you?”

Lionel smirked. “In your dreams, love.”

He grabbed your hips and flipped you over, nestling his hips comfortably between your legs.

“Now, [Y/n], please may I see those tits? I’m just itching to get my hands on them.”

Was he seriously asking, not just taking? Wow. He must really be sorry.

You smiled and raised your arms above your head. Lionel grinned hungrily and grabbed the fabric of your dress to tug it over your head and discard it on the floor, leaving you naked as he was.

“Fucking perfection,” he growled, his large hands already cupping your breasts. “And you really thought I’d fuck other women when I’ve got you?”

He leant down and buried his face between your breasts, licking at every inch of skin he could reach, as if he could leave a trail of saliva to remind Eli where you’d been.

“You can fuck them, Lionel, you know that. I just don’t want it all over Twitter.”

“Hmm… I’d rather just have you, to be honest.”

He kissed one nipple, then the other, then your lips.

“I don’t recall the last time I fucked another woman… how can I, when I’ve already had the best? PJ was a means to an end, that’s all… you are the only woman for me, [Y/n].”

You whined, from need, from love, from frustration. You wrapped your arms around your lover’s shoulders, clinging onto him as he breathed in your scent, his nose tickling your cheek as he dropped slow, featherlight kisses to your face.

“Move to California, Lionel,” you begged. “I can’t stand being away from you. I love Eli, but I love you too. I need you both there.”

There was a long pause. Lionel stilled his movements, his face still pressed against yours, his hair tickling your skin slightly.

“…I’ll think about it,” he conceded.

You smiled as a warm feeling spread within your chest. You knew it was the best answer you could have hoped for in the moment. Lionel wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t follow through on, and he didn’t want to let you down.

“Any other requests while I’m here? The moon, perhaps?”

He was smirking at you, but you had a feeling if you really wanted the moon, he’d find a way to buy it.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, holding him close.

“Devour me, your Lordship.”

Lionel grinned, purring hungrily. His pupils were blown with lust, his breath heavy, and you could feel his cock twitching as it lay pressed up against your cunt.

“Ohh, [Y/n]… I may be a Lord, but you are my Queen. I won’t just devour you… I’ll worship you.”

He slid inside you so easily, you’d have almost not noticed if he weren’t so fucking big.

Lionel groaned with relief, his cock finally inside you, finally where he belonged.

“Mhmm… I’m so glad we stopped using condoms, darling. The walls of your tight cunt feel so fucking good. And you’re so wet… always so wet for me.”

“All for you, Daddy,” you whined, and Lionel hummed approvingly, rewarding you with a deep thrust.

“Yes… yes, all for me, my perfect little slut… I’ve missed you and I’ve had a hell of a day, I don’t know if I can control myself…”

“Then don’t,” you begged, your fingernails digging into his shoulders, hips wriggling desperately beneath his. “Fuck me, Lionel.”

He chuckled darkly. “As my lioness wishes.”

You cried out as he began thrusting into you, the squelching sound of his cock plunging into your soaking wet cunt filling the room, rivalled in volume only by your depraved groans.

“Mmm, yes, that’s it… fuck , you take me so well, darling.” Lionel sunk his teeth into your neck, aiming for a bruise Eli had left you last night. “As if I would ever have some - ah! - subpar other woman when I have you. I rub my cock every night thinking of you, darling, fucking my pillow and imagining it’s you beneath me… Do you think of me, darling, when you’re with him?”

“S - sometimes,” you gasped. “Wish you were there…”

“Only sometimes?”

“Always,” you admitted. “Always want you there… want him here… both daddies…”

Lionel grinned mischievously. “Greedy slut. Yes, you love it, don’t you? Not satisfied with just a billionaire - or just a Nobel Laureate - no, you have to have both.”

You buried your head in his neck and whined.

“D - don’t care about that,” you spluttered between groans. “Just want you - and Eli - don’t care about the rest. If - oh, fuck, Lionel!”

You cried out as he pushed your legs back slightly, opening them nice and wide for him, his cock pushing up against your sweet spot just right.

“What was that, darling? If what?”

“Lionel - Lionel, I - ahh! Just like that, Lionel, please…”

He laughed at you, relishing the sight of you rendered so helpless, so cockdrunk, gushing with desire for him, your eyes alight with pleasure and your mouth emitting the most sinful groans.

Lionel pulled out of you, grabbed your hips and turned you over, then swiftly re-entered you from behind, giving him the perfect angle to slap your arse as his cock slid in and out of you.

“I see Michaelson’s been keeping you in line,” Lionel chuckled, examining the bruises and bite marks on your ass cheeks. “Good man. Don’t want you forgetting your place, do we, love?”

“N - no,” you gasped.

“And where is your place, slut?”

“Wherever Daddy wants me,” you groaned into the pillow. “Anywhere - anything you want, Daddy…”

“Good girl.”

He reached around your waist and his expert fingers found your sensitive nub, and you were so close to the edge already that it took him only a few strokes to send you over the edge, screaming incoherently into the pillow, hands gripping tight around the bedpost as you came. Lionel followed soon after, painting your insides with his cum, body shuddering as he held your hips firmly against him, keeping himself buried deep inside you as he filled you up.

Your knees gave way and your hips fell unceremoniously onto the bed, sliding off of Lionel’s cock, and he quickly followed suit, lying on top of you on the messed-up sheets of a bed you’d never slept in.

He pressed lazy kisses wherever he could, across your shoulders and neck, and you giggled when he kissed behind your jaw and his hair tickled against your ear.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in your ear, and you blushed. You wriggled around underneath him so you were face to face, and his lazy kisses became a deep, warm, loving kiss between the two of you, both savouring the intimacy of the moment.

“I love you, Lionel,” you whispered when your lips parted, as if the room were bugged and it was a secret nobody else could know.

“I love you too, [Y/n],” he replied with a smug smile, knowing he had your heart, body and soul, and that was worth more than any painting, no matter how rare.

You shivered. Lionel kissed you once more then rolled off you to let you go to the bathroom, and when you returned he was still stark naked, looking out the window, where he could see the gala was still in full swing without him.

You approached him from behind, still naked yourself, and wrapped an arm around his waist. He smiled and put an arm around your shoulder to hold you close. He kissed the top of your head, then muttered, “I do want to live with you all year, darling. I’d happily move to California to be with you, even with Michaelson there too. But… my work is here, for now.”

“I know,” you replied, looking out across the estate at the gathered revellers, far too interested in the free food and drink to notice their host’s absence. “It’ll all fall into place one day.”

You were both quiet for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence, completely naked and vulnerable as you looked down at the party. Most people had taken their masks off by now, and down near the band, you saw a figure of similar build to Lionel, dancing energetically with a dark-skinned woman with unmistakable bushy hair.

“How long have Betty and Sinclair been together?” you wondered aloud.

“Hm? Oh, about… twenty years or so. Why?”

“They’re still so in love.”

“They, my love, are unique among married couples. Especially those in the upper classes. Most rich married couples are miserable, but those two… they almost make me believe in true love.”

“What’s their secret, do you think?”

“Well, either they’re on copious amounts of cocaine…”

You laughed.

“…or they genuinely enjoy one another’s company.” Lionel looked down at you. “You were going to say something earlier. Before I rendered you speechless.”

You smiled. “I was going to say that I don’t care about your money. It’s good to see you reap the rewards of all the effort you’ve put into Shabandar Media, and I definitely like the perks, but if you lost it all, I’d still love you.”

Lionel smirked. “Careful, [Y/n]. Talk like that and one might think you’ve gone soft. You’ll be talking about marriage next.”

“My title would be ‘Doctor Lady’, I’d marry you just for that.”

“Two titles, two lovers. You really are just a collector, aren’t you, [Y/n]?”

“You can talk, with your art collection!” you said teasingly.

“That’s true,” Lionel conceded. “Perhaps we’re both greedy.” He kissed you again, then sighed. “I suppose we should get back to the party. I closed on an important deal tonight, I don’t want them to change their minds because I disappeared at the party, even if it was to fuck you.”

He kissed you one last time, deeply this time, and there was something unusually sweet about it. Before you had chance to savour it, however, Lionel pulled away and began to gather his and your clothes from the floor.

You glanced back out the window and considered, for the first time in a long time, if moving back to England wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[averageanonymous]

Summary: In the aftermath of Aziraphale’s return to Heaven, Crowley plays the piano to chase away the silence.

i.e. I chronically have Crowley playing the piano on the brain. Today, that resulted in an angsty drabble.

Words: 642

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His apartment is dark, swathed in heavy silence that echoes off the empty caverns in his own soul. It's been too long. Too long with no sound but the trickle of a fountain, no voice but that which resides only in his mind. Now, he begins to feel it. The quiet - always before a numbing, soothing comfort - is beginning to crush him.

He approaches the large mahogany instrument tucked into the corner of his study, runs a hand over its surface, breathes. Years since he last played. Years since he wanted to.

His heart aches.

He doesn't want music.

Not really.

Whatever is broken in him relishes the quiet, the stillness.

No, he doesn't want music. But…he thinks he might need it.

So he slides onto the bench, eases back the fallboard, and lifts his hands. Black and white keys gleam under dim lights. He hesitates. His hands hover, silent, over ivory.

Finally, after what might be hours or only seconds, when the silence beneath his fingers begins to feel like agony, he settles on the keys and releases a single chord. Its sound rings into the emptiness and lingers there like a question. A pause. A breath. Then, gently, softly, slowly, notes like butterflies begin to lift from the keys. A few at first, then more, dozens upon dozens, until something begins to take shape beneath his hands.

He doesn't think about the melody that flows through him. It's nothing he has played before, nothing he has heard or seen. It has a life of its own; as though it has always existed, raw and pure as uncut diamond. The melody and harmony wind and twist through him, singing to his anguish with a beauty so sharp it cuts like a knife.

The music crescendos. He feels his soul lift with it, feels the weight of his misery, his loneliness, begin to slough away with each measure. Not enough to save him. But enough to keep him going. So he does. He plays and plays and plays.

He doesn't know where this ends. Part of him hopes it never does. Now that the music has chased it away, he finds that he dreads the silence waiting for him on the other side. That silence which drowns him and calls it solace. But that's all that is left to him, isn't it. And after all, what is the point anymore? This interminable existence, untethered from any harbor, adrift without anchor. The only thing that made it worth it, made it mean something, is gone from him, gone to a place he cannot follow. He is alone, here, alone-

His muscles quiver with exertion, his breath shallow, his heart racing. He feels himself losing the thread of the melody, feels it unraveling like loose thread from an unfinished tapestry. Something like panic grips him.

Suddenly, he strikes a wrong chord, and it's dissonance shatters what was left of the song, jarring him to his bones. He glares at the keys, breath heaving in his lungs, and with a snarl, drags his hands down the keyboard, a violent spray of discord flung after the ghost of the music that has left him wrung out and defeated on the piano's bench.

After precious few moments, the sound of his anger dissipates as thoroughly as the song, and he is left again in utter silence.

Silence.

He draws closed the fallboard, careful not to let it make a noise.

He slides away from the bench, away from the instrument, out of the room.

He lies down on his couch, the quiet wrapped around him like a cocoon. He lies there for hours (or days or weeks) and it doesn't matter. Eventually, the silence takes him deep enough that even his thoughts grow quiet, and finally, finally, he sleeps.

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Thanks for reading!

This sort of thing falls into the category of me just sitting down with a picture in my mind (or maybe a comic strip) and trying to write it in a way that captures the feeling of what I'm seeing. In my brain. I rarely succeed 🙄