#i shall post fic here

[aperturerecord]

reading the wikipedia page for the mind-body problem for a Portal + House of Leaves crossover fic I'm drafting and this part felt like a very fitting poem

[starry-bi-sky]

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[beescake]

Sorry for the spam (^o^;) I just really like your blog

no need to apologize ayy!

in this corner we welcome all forms of enjoyment, regardless of whether you're a

happy to have yall here w me,

headin into homestuck 2024 :^)

[fumifooms]

Helki compilation

Helki is a prisoner-turned-servant. He’s a criminal canary and was implicitly one of Milsiril’s charges, and now that she’s retired he’s become her servant.

He must have gotten into Milsiril’s good graces, wether through attachment or convenience, which is a feat considering Milsiril’s a socially anxious recluse. Interesting since it’s not like he seems like the agreeable type, shifty upbeat delinquent style… We really don’t know much about him, not even what crimes he did, so there’s a lot of space for speculation on all grounds.

Edit: Shanghai QnA with Kui gave us a new juicy morsel of info!

Interesting… The original answer in japanese is: パッタドルと同じような杖を使っていました。今も同じものを支給されているのですが、すぐになくすのでもはや携帯していないようです。 That it’s written in japanese seems to say that there isn’t the same double translation issue there was last QnA, so if someone wants to look at the original phrasing and word choices it can be done. Perhaps Helki-Milsiril has a more protégé dynamic undertone than previously thought… "For various reasons", meaning circumstances that made it so the squad had to choose between saving him and saving their own skin, or like, "man this guy’s personality sucks we don’t really like him"? Likely to be a mix of several things, since ‘for various reasons’ implies the situation was either complex or they had multiple reasonings. In either case, the phrasing is very much that Milsiril couldn’t abandon him herself, and so a relationship sprung out of that. Another instance of outcasts seeking out and sticking with other outcasts in Dungeon Meshi. This could mean that it’s a bit less out of personal attachment and more out of a sense of duty on Milsiril’s side as well though.

Still edit: So then maybe him staying with Rin in that comic isn’t that much because of work ethics or that he cares for kids (or maybe he does because he feels kinship to them, alone and mistreated), but because he didn’t want to join the other canaries in that room chatting and laughing… Maybe the isolation was exacerbated because he became Milsiril’s favorite, teacher’s pet style, but I’d also be careful about assuming the others disproportionately dislike him, it could be that they just don’t really care for him. Why? Could be because of his personality, because he’s seen as shifty or unreliable or annoying, if an event, who knows who knows, but I like to think because of the Rin comic that he generally just tends to be a loner, that he’s "weird" in a neurodivergent vibe, he doesn’t conform to proper social behavior which in elven society seems especially alienating. He’s the only one with Rin to think of her sake, not only worth observing/caring for but also asks her to eat, but he does this with an offputting stare, not really emoting, and then well, the infamous alone with her staring munching covered in blood panel. He stands out. I’m a fan of the theory that it was a "Helki? Not that I dislike the guy but I’m not risking my skin for him" situation… Ok end edit back to older observations.

He seemed to be acting out of his own initiative in the Rin comic, he doesn’t look thrilled to be there in many post-canary comics but he also seems content enough. He restrains Milsiril in the Mithrun cleaning comic which is interesting to think of for their relationship.

It’s fun to notice how he’s the only one that didn’t get bored of looking after Rin, and then reports back about her condition… I’d say he was getting used to taking care of kids which would come with the job of serving Milsiril, but then, not enough for him to clean the blood off himself hah. In this way it’s interesting to think about his relationship to the idea of parenthood, he’s probably the closest thing to a father figure/male role model Kabru had growing up, without mentioning the other kids. I feel like he’d consider himself an older brother, cousin or uncle figure sooo much sooner than a father, but even then I do think it’s just his job and he’s not really invested or forming real relationships with any of them much.

It’s curious to note that he’s dressed in canary uniform presumably after having been pardoned and living with Milsiril? Which you can tell by the armor bits (the yellow strips of spider silk). In the Kabru training montage and the Rin comic specifically. It seems very implausible for him to have still been a canary while being a retired Milsiril’s servant and being with her all the time, and the cleaning with Mithrun comic (where he’s not in uniform) happens after Utaya so it could happen after Kabru was taken in but around the time of the Rin comic. So why uniform? It could be one of the best outfits he has, so it’d make sense to wear it around especially if you’re sparring or getting… Blood on you? Could just be because that's how Milsiril wants him to dress. But yeah we don't know when exactly Helki becoming Milsiril’s servant happened. We do see Mithrun’s charge Cithis be tasked with taking care of him, so a charge being given a servant-caretaker role doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary, sometimes even prior to retiring.

Imo, if he doesn't work for Milsiril he goes back to jail/the canaries/has to try and get a job instead of just tending to her, so Helki is staying with Milsiril because she's the best option for him. He’s her milsiril's personal servant and does mostly dull tasks involved in that. He’s not particularly suited to the role but they’ve gotten used to each other to him so she took him with her, and he does prefer it to canary work so it works out decent for him. I think he’s used to reading her and managing her moods and he’s one of the rare social connection she has.

Under spoiler is stage 2 interpretation stuff, bigger speculation, in a reblog I’ll make soon I’ll go over my thoughts for stage 3 interpretation lol. Helsiril I’m coming for you

Translation of the canary hierachy chart used is by Thatsmimi, here

[shoopsthereitis]

i just found an abandoned 1k oneshot of hockey player james and figure skater regulus bickering over late night ice time and im giggling kicking my feet they’re so silly

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

...

...

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

[chiropteracupola]

granby + iskierka + keynes

[kagooleo]

so with confidence I present my rarepair...fluffyriceshipping!

they were originally a joke ship (which was my last chance to get out) but they grew on me more and more throughout last year, and months later they've become my favorite pair to draw! their name was the funniest thing to make of them because i got to joke around with their jpn names

the tl:dr of them is that there's a lot of good drama to make of thirty-somethings with the weight of responsibility of their respective cultures on their shoulders, as well as their personal thoughts of the trainers of their respective regions, all this culminating together to be really compelling for me to develop, so I'll ramble a Whole lot more under the cut about them :D!!

~

ok now that the people that wanted to see more about what i'm crazy about when i'm not online are here you guys better prepare for the worddump lmao

before they meet its postgame and they’re both in their thirties (early to mid), lance post gsc/hgss still upholds his champion position and managing the dragon's den alongside any g-man/undercover rocket work on the side (in workaholic mode), riley post dppt is occasionally battling at the battleground but also holing himself up with patrols on iron island and doing egg research and training his aura (Also in workaholic mode)

i'd say all the work makes byron and roark try to get him a break from all that, convincing him at some point to take a vacation! see the sights my guy you've been workin yourself to the bone

it's canonically shown in hgss that riley does appear as a partner for the battle tower, so at some point he is in johto! the region resonates with his cultural sensibilities so maybe he revisits it again to instead actually relax there.

lance would probably catch his hat flying away when he's visiting elm's lab (a fellow egg researcher) in new bark and riley would have absolutely fell first for him (and i'm a sucker for meet-cutes,,,)

and from there they hit it off! being both skilled trainers in their own right they battle and go out to eat after and talk about their family (clair and the elders, for riley's case his family friends byron and roark), their culture (dragon clans and aura guardians), and then when they talk about their respective trainer kiddos (silver and dawn) something clicks between them (it’s a Really rough snippet but hopefully it’s decent)-

"Do you have any kids? I know the news loves to make up some kind of story about secret love affairs with a random person." the guardian says, awkwardly.

Lance smiles, "Oh, yeah! I have one but he's technically not mine." Riley chokes on his iced tea.

"I'm sorry?" A million thoughts roll through his mind as he processes his words said so matter-of-factly.

"Haha, sorry, sorry, I'm only partly joking."

"E-Elaborate..."

The champion explains the general gist of things as he's met him, Silver, his kid-by-odd-circumstance, was homeless for a while, but was training alongside some other up and coming trainers. Uncovering some Rocket related files, he learns he's the son of the boss of the entire organization, and after some on and off meetings he eventually got him a place to stay at the Dragon's Den, and soon after began living with him at his place when he warmed up to the idea of adoption.

There are times he gets overwhelmed with all that he's been through, and some nights its all too much. But Lance was there with him, stayed with him every step of the way, unlike the one who gave him that abandonment anxiety in the first place.

"He's my kid, not by blood, and maybe not by his family, either. But instead, by his own decision he chose to stay with me. I'd want him to keep the freedom he has now." Lance states, firmly. "And now he's grown up as strong as I believed he could. I'm proud of him, as much as he tends to deny that." Riley senses his draconic aura swell with pride, mixed with a humbling sincerity in his words.

"What about you? Any kids of your own?" the sudden flip of the question surprises the guardian briefly.

"N-Nothing adoptive but…I suppose it's similar, in a way to meeting them as you have."

The guardian's turn, now. Dawn was someone he met when he was training on Iron Island, and also served as a guide to get her through the caverns. When he felt something off in the aura surrounding the area, he eventually learned of Galactic causing the pokemon on the island to feel restless and agitated. With her, they were able to clear the island of their antics and even gifted her a Riolu egg on her journey. From there, he was impressed with how strong she was, and did hear from Cynthia that she raised his present up to evolving her into a Lucario. He couldn't have been happier.

That was the case, until he caught the aftermath of the events of Mt. Coronet.

What Cyrus did, the lengths he'd go to, and dragging the both of them into a mess that could have torn the world apart.

After that, Dawn stayed home for a while. Cynthia put him as a contact for her mom, who was really worried for her. With his aura and her friends, Lucas and Barry, they were a big help for her recovery. And eventually, after a lot of time and work, she became the region's champion. She messages every now and then to him, as processing any trauma is never an easy road, but he realized how lucky she was to have the people she'd met to keep her steady, and knew she'll be alright.

"I...still wish I could've done more for her," Riley says, quieter. "Cynthia told me about what happened in that other world, and it...it was a lot for Dawn, a lot of emotions to help her figure out." he finishes, sheepish.

"…I don't blame you for feeling that way, I wouldn't know what to do in a scenario like that, either." the champion says, unsure too.

"It's amazing, in a way. All these kids going through so much on their own. I'd be proud were it not so scary, realizing how young they are to go through what they have been through."

"There's only so much you really can do, as an adult. I've realized that fact a long time ago." Lance's aura felt oddly melancholic, as bright and pretty as it may appear. "It's either immediate or slow when things change for them, and sometimes you'll have to make a choice on the spot when the time comes for them to decide what they want to do." It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, but the melancholy makes it appear that he's had some regrets.

“I trust in them to find their own path, eventually. When they’re together, those kids are gonna be alright on their own.”

His reassurance helped, even if only by a small amount.

-

I should make some kind of master post about them at some point but WAH god I’m so happy I can actually put them together in pokemon masters, they’ve really grown on me and I’ve developed a lot for the both of them in my free time, but yeah this is the rarepair that’s been on my brain for ages now, a gaze into my goo brain 🤪

[sukunasun]

i always thought of dilf geto suguru loving skin-to-skin contact with his newborn baby😔❤ with the twins by mama's bedside as she rests from the birth days ago while suguru, shirtless, sits at a chair nearby, lovingly cradling his baby, who only has a diaper and a cap, in his chest looking at his family with so much love in his eyes

dilf nanamin too....skin-to-skin contact with his baby in the nursery as mama rests in their room hhhhhh why arent they real :*(

"we're not having a baby," you tell him time and time again. and geto just chuckles then, getting lost in the smell of your shampoo, in the lingering perfume by the nape of your neck, arms encircling your waist, and just...accepting it as fact. he's content with this. he's already got two beautiful girls who call him by the name papa, so why should he want more. he doesn't. he's sure of it.

then he'd pull back, looking to where his forearm rests against your middle, bringing his palm down to your lower belly and kinda...feeling the space there. wishing and wishing, that tug in his chest calling out to him, urging him, "what if..." he whispers, words caught in his throat, unable to say the rest of that sentence for fear of what might come next. your reaction, your rejection...would be too hard to bear.

and you know what exactly it is because you've seen the way he lingers just a little bit longer inside you every time he finishes, eyes staring at what's not there. lost in a daze, in his own world imagining his release taking root with hands splayed across your womb. for a second picturing you full with his child, glowing and resting under warm blankets, burrowing in soft pillows, waddling around your kitchen in the middle of the night hoping to satisfy a craving. he'll stop at nothing to deliver, not even if he has to make a drive out or if he needs to pay extra for same-day shipping.

you'd smell so good, feel so soft...my wife, my wife, my wife—is pregnant. she's carrying my child. he won't stop saying it, he wants it so much... and he knows you've talked about it, you don't need to have a baby now, had agreed that your parenting days are yet to be over anyway. of course, you'd want a little baby made up of the two of you, but the thought of going through a pregnancy is a lot. or at least, just for now. "its for the best," you tell him while on your tip toes, leaning in to kiss the pout off his face, "besides, we could still make babies, isn't that the fun part?" so he'll swallow it down. you'll seduce him, and the both of you will forget about it for the time being.

but his want only grows stronger. you'd see it on his face, in the way he looks at the pamphlets at the nursery when he drops the girls off, at the squirming little bundles in incubators and carriers, newborns swaddled in pink and blue, he stares at strollers by a display window and when they cross him by on the street, his fingers caressing the wool straps of a onesie at a store as he sighs fondly. "how cute..." he mutters, in awe of the detail and the craftsmanship at work, olive greens and navy blues with the cutest embroidered stitches of flowers and woodland creatures, "this would keep him warm...a warm portable boy..." he chuckles to himself, doesn't even realize the things he says, or that he says it aloud, but your heart clenches at the thought...would it be so bad to give him another.

and maybe you should have seen it coming, but the two of you weren’t the most particular when it came to protection, and by the time winter arrives, your belly swells and so do your ankles. “this kid doesn’t move or make a sound, i think he’s only kicked once the past six months,” geto says from behind you, his hands feeling over your bump. and you sigh, leaning back into his hold, about to nod off into slumber when he feels so warm, so comfy, relieved when he takes some of the weight off in his arms, lifting your belly up and keeping it there.

“you’re just looking out for mama aren’t you?” you coo, hand over geto’s and at that very second, your baby kicks and you both feel it in your palms. “im thinking he’s a mama’s boy," he laughs, can’t stop caressing where his baby’s foot had been. grinning wide, you admit to him something you already know, “you're gonna be his favourite...i feel him responding to your voice more, and he'll be just like you…i bet you’d been a quiet baby yourself…”  

he's not geto when he holds his baby for the first time. special grade curse user or villain extraordinaire, but suguru...just suguru holding a baby in his arms while he gingerly feels the fine hairs, fixing the little cap atop their head, watching as a tiny fist wraps around his one index finger. oh, his heartbeat pounds when they gurgle and fidget, pulse jumping with sudden fear, before he calms again, smiling, cooing at them, a steady lup-dup, lup-dup beats through the cotton, soft and constant against his palm, trailing up his fingers, and down his spine. a life he holds onto. a life he's made.

[witchboyjimin]

omg I'm on a public train and i almost yelled over the writing prompt 😍

So my prompt is:

One of them calling the other out of the blue and starting the call with:

"Hi, um- I... This is really short notice and if you're not- that'd be absolutely fine but-". He stops to clear his throat, trying not to give away he's crying. "But if you're free, could you maybe... Could you come get me?"

OOOOOR the absolute classic that I go feral for

"Who did this to you?"

- cabin anon ✨ (sending love your way)

4.8k of hurt/comfort ft. urban werewolves, omega!jm and alpha!jk

tw: domestic violence, physical abuse, attempted sexual coercion

-

jimin's face is throbbing, the vision in his left eye almost entirely obstructed by his swelling skin. the world is blurry and he can taste blood on his tongue.

his lip's split.

he tentatively licks at the cut, wincing when the rest of his face pulses in protest. the ache that had dulled out in his side from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, pushing him to clear nearly twelve blocks in record time, rears its angry head and jimin slumps down against the brick wall he'd slammed into earlier, lungs burning ferociously in protest.

but more than the physical pain he's in, sheer, unadulterated panic grips him, his chest compressing tightly. jimin squeezes his eyes shut, a hand gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt. the world shrinks down to his bare feet, to the smell of blood that is distinctly not his own, to the sound of jimin's shaking breaths.

he can't breathe.

there's not enough air and jimin's fingers dig into brick, his legs giving out under him entirely until he's curling into himself. he needs to become smaller, needs to disappear, only then, only then --

he's going to die.

he can't -- he can't breathe.

every time he inhales, he finds his lungs too small to take in the air and terror like nothing he's ever felt before, has him pinned down by the throat.

just like -- just like hajoon had.

the scream tears out of him unbidden, echoing through the alleyway with a hollowed reverence. for a split second, his wolf takes over, and every single cell in jimin's body fights to keep him alive.

and then jimin sags, all the fight leaving his body at once.

his panicked, shortened breaths even out and the blood in his mouth is joined by the taste of asphalt and the stench of garbage.

he lets his forehead rest against the cool ground, too tired to pull himself up. it takes a moment, but his claws retract, pulling out of the broken asphalt that he's managed to tear through in his fear, his devastation.

his head is swimming with images. hajoon's face darkening in anger, his scent deepening with fury, his hands ready and prepared to tear right through jimin.

somehow he manages to sit up.

there's blood on his hands. it's not his own.

he reaches for the curve of his neck, pressing his palm against the spot hajoon had nearly sunk his teeth into. his hand comes back clean save for some dried blood, jimin's skin healing over quickly.

jimin sits there for a moment, blinking through the pandemonium of emotions swirling through him. at some point, his wolf had taken over, protecting him from an unwanted bond.

he remembers his claws sinking into hajoon's neck, tearing through tendon. blood had poured out, splashing into jimin's mouth and he'd shoved hajoon off of him, scrambling back and bolting out of the apartment. he hadn't looked back once, too focused on getting away. he has no idea if hajoon had given chase, if jimin had even left him in a state where he could.

the sound of a car driving by the alleyway has jimin looking up, noting in passing that there's blood on his t-shirt and on his jeans. he pushes himself to his feet, noting that the bottoms of his jeans have been torn up.

had he undergone a partial shift?

it feels like something outside of himself is guiding jimin to move, like he's watching himself step out of the alley from somewhere up above. his body doesn't feel like his own or maybe it's that jimin doesn't want to be grounded in the sadness he feels beginning to moor him to the spot.

he needs to move.

hajoon could easily track him down by scent. he can't stay here.

he realises he's run all the way over to the pack alpha's neighbourhood. namjoon's house is a few streets over, and jimin would be impressed with how far he's run if the exhaustion wasn't catching up to him so quickly.

his apartment is nearly halfway across town. rent is cheaper in the outer neighbourhoods and hajoon's job didn't pay him much. at least, that's what he always told jimin. the rest of the pack lived closer to namjoon's house as most packs did.

the street is mostly empty.

he keeps to the shadows, making his way to the house as stealthily as he can. the kim pack boasted a history nearly as old as korea's itself. they'd lived on this land since the days seoul was called namgyeong, their lineage tracking all the way back to the days of the three kingdoms.

as such, their house, tucked into one of seoul's most affluent neighbourhoods, is massive. jimin spots it when he turns into the right road, self-conscious of his disastrous appearance as he makes his way down to the front gates.

he probably looks like he's homeless and if a security guard from some other rich family's house spots him, they'll call the police on him or simply try to drag him out themselves.

it's as he stands in front of the gates that he remembers: namjoon's not in town. he's at some conference down in daegu which means that if seokjin, namjoon's mate, has also gone along, there might not be anyone at home to let jimin in.

unlike some members of the pack, jimin doesn't have a key to the house nor does he know the access code to get past the front gates.

he's the newest member of the pack, had only joined a year ago after a few years spent packless. jimin had run away from his own pack, tired of pack hierarchies and being forced to submit to shitty alphas that wanted nothing more than to pin jimin down and mount him.

he'd met namjoon at an art museum, his hackles rising when the alpha had stepped into the same room as him. jimin had beelined for the exit but namjoon had called after him so softly that jimin's wolf had nearly forced him down into submission, desperate to be near someone of his kind after years of isolation.

eventually namjoon's unending patience and kindness coupled with the creeping madness of being packless had convinced jimin that he needed to join a pack again. and by all accounts, jimin loved his new pack. maybe city wolves were different from the rural, more conservative pack he'd grown up around but there were no restrictions placed on how jimin could live, no expectations on what his 'place' among the pack was.

the kim pack just expected all members of the pack to attend a communal meal on saturdays. there were some thirty odd members, enough that namjoon's house would get a little cramped despite how large it was. still, jimin looked forward to time spent with his pack and he ended up spending a lot more than just saturdays with them.

and right now, he wanted nothing more than for his pack alpha and omega to gently scent him and tell him that everything would be okay, that he'd done the right thing to defend himself, that he had the right, at all, to say no to an alpha courting him.

the tears are already trailing down his face before he knows it, tremors beginning to shake through his body. the panic from earlier sweeps in as if it had never left and jimin swallows, his breathing turning shallow once more.

where would he go?

hajoon -- hajoon would find him and he would want revenge, he was so angry --

"jimin?"

the voice startles jimin out of his thoughts, his heart jumping in his chest as jimin twists around to look at a familiar face.

jeon jeongguk.

he's got a bag of something in his hand, his scent sweeping up to jimin, sweet vanilla, warm amber, and the hint of pear.

the surprise on jeongguk's face sharpens quickly into concern, the alpha taking a step closer. his hand reaches out, touch far gentler than jimin would have expected and nudges jimin's chin so that he's looking directly at him.

"what -- " jeongguk starts, the concern hardening into anger. his eyes sweep over jimin so quickly they're a blur, irises glowing red. the sweetness of his scent morphs into something ugly, something rotten.

jeongguk's gaze is sharp, his brows furrowed together. "who did this to you?"

-

jimin can't seem to answer.

actually, he can't stop crying. loud, hysterical sobs spill out of him so quickly that he hiccups through them, breath stuttering through him in an attempt to keep up.

jeongguk, to his credit, doesn't stand idly by. one moment jimin is bawling in front of the alpha, unable to parse together enough words to be of some use, to explain, and the next, jeongguk is scooping him up into his arms and carrying jimin into the pack house.

at some point, they make it into one of the living rooms. jeongguk sets jimin down on the couch, kneeling in front of him and jimin is clinging, he knows, but he can't pull himself away from jeongguk, his arms wrapped tightly around the alpha's neck, face buried into his black tank top.

a hand is rubbing soothing circles against his back, the other cradling the back of jimin's neck, giving it the occasional squeeze. it calms him down and he feels silly, needing the same comfort as a pup to quell down.

he still can't let go of jeongguk, so drained of all energy that the thought of having to sit upright, unsupported, feels equivalent to being told to move a mountain right now.

he wants to sleep.

"jimin." jeongguk says his name so tenderly, with so much concern that it settles over him like a blanket.

the irony isn't lost on him.

jeongguk doesn't like jimin.

he's never liked jimin, cold and aloof and unwilling to trust him. there have been plenty of incidents where jeongguk has made a disparaging comment, glaring at jimin to remind him that he didn't belong here, that he was an outsider.

the rest of the pack had been of mixed opinion when namjoon had first introduced jimin to them. wariness was expected but jeongguk's open hostility had been scary because while namjoon was the pack alpha, jeongguk was the most outwardly terrifying. he had this way of looking at a person that left them completely devoid of confidence, like they could never measure up or prove themselves to him. most people, it seemed, weren't good enough for jeon jeongguk.

and now here jimin was, clinging to the very werewolf he'd done his militant best to avoid on saturdays.

maybe that was it though. jeongguk had no interest in jimin, he didn't like him, so there was nothing he could possibly want from jimin. his kindness was surprising but it felt real and it came with no ulterior motives.

even if jeongguk didn't like him, he could maybe see that jimin needed help and jeongguk is a lot of things, but he's never turned his back on someone in need.

"jimin, hey, look at me," jeongguk murmurs, pushing up so that he can sit down next to jimin. it's strange to be on the receiving end of jeongguk's kindness; it's something he reserves only for his closest packmates, keeping a respectful distance from the others.

moving up onto the couch has allowed jeongguk to tug jimin back, enough that he can take a look at jimin's beaten face. his arm cradles jimin still, eyes flitting over jimin's injuries. "are you..."

his voice trails off, as if realising that whatever he was going to ask already had an answer. jimin can't really tell what's going on in his head, exhaustion whispering sweetly to him: give up, give in.

jeongguk's hand curls over jimin's cheek, his touch barely there as if afraid that he would injure him further. "how could anyone do this."

he says it more to himself than jimin, a steeliness returning to his eyes the longer he stares at jimin's swollen face.

hajoon had slapped him at first. the force of it had left jimin's ears ringing, his balance momentarily slipping. he'd barely straightened back out before the next blow had come. and then the next and then the next.

it wasn't the first time hajoon had slapped him. he always told jimin how sorry he was after, eyes wet with tears, sobbing about what a terrible alpha he was. for some reason, jimin always forgave him.

but today it had been different. jimin had told him no. they'd only been dating for six months and hajoon had asked jimin eagerly if jimin would spend his rut with him.

jimin can still feel the way his gut had clenched horribly at the idea. he'd immediately said no, head shaking, even going so far as to take a step back from hajoon. they'd fought, hajoon unable to understand why jimin couldn't do this for him. didn't jimin love hajoon? didn't he want hajoon to be happy?

a good omega, hajoon had screamed at him, spittle flying from his mouth, is supposed to spread his legs when he's told to.

before long the slaps turned into punches and jimin found himself pushed onto the floor, his vision swimming, with hajoon clambering on top of him, pining him to the ground. jimin had sobbed, hajoon's weight suffocating him, rendering jimin immobile. hajoon had been unrelenting, his words spilling out of him so fast, jimin could hardly keep him. he'd told jimin exactly what he thought of him, how he'd wasted hajoon's time, that jimin belonged to him now and that if he wasn't going to agree to hajoon's request willingly, hajoon would make him agree.

after all, a mated omega couldn't say no to their alpha.

"the swelling is going down," jeongguk tells him, a thumb ghosting over jimin's left brow. jimin's injuries would pretty much be gone by tomorrow -- both a gift and a curse.

hajoon had punched him once, angry about some wager he'd lost with his buddies and jimin had made the mistake of getting him the wrong beer. the bruise on his stomach had looked horrifying when jimin had stared at it in the mirror that night but by the next morning, it was gone.

and jimin had known then that there was no use telling anyone about this. who would believe an omega over an alpha? especially when jimin had no proof.

jeongguk is staring at him intently, taking in the blood on jimin's clothes and his hands. jimin can only tell he's furious because of the lingering acidity of his scent. he's managed to hold most of it back, the usual vanilla wrapping around jimin in an attempt to soothe but the aftertaste is there, jimin can smell it. he's always been good at picking up on the subtleties in others.

jeongguk's brows are furrowed again, his hands carefully going over all of jimin's injuries as if to tally them. he seems to see right through jimin, pausing at jimin's ribs, his hand splaying over the throbbing in his side.

"do you want me to call chungha? or taehyung?" he asks, watching jimin carefully.

jimin shakes his head. of course he'd like it if one of his friends were here but it was the middle of the night and jimin had already ruined jeongguk's night. he wasn't going to ruin anyone else's, too. "'s okay."

"you're finally talking."

jimin shrugs a shoulder.

"tell me what hurts the most," jeongguk instructs, slowly guiding jimin so he can lean against the back of the couch.

jimin almost answers with my heart.

"i think he broke my rib," jimin mumbles, touching the same spot jeongguk had paused at mere seconds ago. "it hurts more and more."

"so it was hajoon?" jeongguk seems to have pieced it all together himself, looking at jimin only for confirmation.

jimin nods, shame flooding through him. he was so pathetic.

jeongguk lets out a breath through his teeth, his eyes flashing red and it takes him a moment to reign himself in. he nods, just once, staring at jimin.

it's too much and jimin finds his eyes slipping shut. he can't meet jeongguk's gaze, doesn't think he could bear to see contempt there, not now.

"i'm sorry," he says, mouth dry. his head is throbbing, the pain like a wave ebbing out of him, constant and pulsing.

"for what?" jeongguk's voice has gotten quieter, a tinge of something jimin can't quite place creeping in. "what could you possibly be sorry for?"

jimin opens his mouth, winces when his jaw aches and then closes it, his eyes barely opening to see the downward tilt of jeongguk's mouth. he shrugs, unable to put into words the misery he's feeling. he's sorry for existing, for burdening jeongguk like this.

"this isn't -- what hajoon has done, that's not how you treat your omega," jeongguk says with absolutely no room for argument. "this isn't your fault. it could never be."

jimin's eyes burn, his throat closing up and he nods, gaze falling down onto his hands. jeongguk's scent seems to swarm around him, eager to comfort and console, and jimin fights back the urge to cry. he's already cried so much.

jeongguk holds still, uncertainty written in the way his frown deepens, how his shoulders seem to have tensed up. he reaches out, gently taking jimin's hand in his own. "it...it'll help you feel better if i scent you. may i?"

jimin's teeth clench, breath shuddering out of him. did he want to be scented?

his mother had always scented jimin when he was upset, her nose carefully rubbing over his scent glands. she would give him a kiss on each cheek when she was finished and all of jimin's anxiety would have melted away, forgotten.

but his mother was his family and jeongguk was...

jeongguk was pack. is pack.

jimin nods, ignoring the warning sign in his head screaming at him to never let another alpha anywhere near him.

jeongguk hovers for another second before nodding and he leans in, pausing just outside of jimin's personal space. he can probably feel the apprehension coming off of jimin in waves, his mind wishing he'd run away and his wolf begging for proximity, for his packmate's comfort.

jimin flinches when jeongguk finally closes the gap between them, his touch feather light. he pauses, giving jimin the opportunity to pull away but jimin just holds his breath.

jeongguk's nose trails along jimin's skin slowly, moving back and forth over the same expanse of skin. it's a deliberate choice, jimin can tell, the languid movement like he's afraid that jimin will spook if he moves too fast.

slowly, jimin relaxes. vanilla and amber wrap around him until jimin thinks he can taste them on his tongue. his mind starts to blank, the tension in his body beginning to seep out slowly. jeongguk's touch never waivers beyond light, delicate. namjoon always scented jimin much more deliberately, quick and easy, a reminder that jimin was his pack.

jeongguk scents jimin like he's something precious, the tip of his nose skimming over jimin's scent gland, never applying pressure. he's careful, jimin's hand still in his own and jimin can feel how sweaty both their palms are, finds it sticky but he's unwilling to let go.

at some point, jeongguk's other hand finds itself cradling the base of jimin's head, his large palm holding jimin in place. his fingers dig into jimin's neck, squeezing, grounding.

with every passing second, jimin unwinds. jeongguk's nose ghosts over his neck from one side to the other, gently swiping over jimin's scent glands. his touch tickles, feels barely there, and yet it settles jimin down better than anyone else's touch ever has.

jimin lets out a sigh, his eyes closed and the pain in his body quells down to something manageable. tomorrow, he wouldn't even feel the sharp jab in his abdomen or the pulsing in his face. tomorrow, he wouldn't have reminders of hajoon's violence all over him.

jeongguk pulls back, just as slow. jimin has a hard time opening his eyes, stares up at jeongguk through blurry vision. he's so close. jimin can see the little mole under his mouth.

"i'm going to call namjoon and tell him okay," jeongguk says, his hands falling away from jimin. he pulls away entirely, taking his sweet scent with him and the further away he gets, the worse jimin feels.

he feels like crying anew. this time from frustration. why should he need so much from another alpha? why couldn't he just comfort himself?

"but first, let's get you cleaned up." jeongguk shifts to stand up and jimin finds himself reaching out, his fingers scrabbling for some part of jeongguk to hold onto.

jeongguk pauses, looking down at the hand jimin's buried into the fabric of his cargo pants. "i'm right here, jimin. you're okay."

he must realise what jimin needs because he scoops jimin up again, carrying him in a bridal carry all the way upstairs. jimin slips in and out of consciousness, the panic that had become second nature finally giving him a moment's peace.

jeongguk brings him upstairs into a bedroom that smells distinctly like his scent. jimin's mind is floating, his wolf curling up inside of him, content to finally rest. it's hard for him to take anything in, to notice anything beyond the dark colour of the walls. but jeongguk's scent is so nice. jimin wishes he could float in a pool of it.

his wish is answered in another form.

jeongguk lays jimin down on his bed -- it must be his bed because the sheets are soaked through with his scent. embarrassingly, he buries his face into jeongguk's pillow, momentarily forgetting that the owner of the scent is right here in the room with him.

"i'm going to need to undress you jimin," jeongguk says, kneeling down by the bedside so he's not hovering over jimin. "is that okay?"

jimin's so tired but he shakes his head. "i can...i can do it."

jeongguk doesn't look convinced, his mouth pursing but he nods. "i'll get you something to wear."

jimin's not sure how he manages to sit up but he does, his arms like lead when he moves to take his t-shirt off. a sharp pain cuts into him, his rib most definitely broken, and jimin gasps, his breath coming out in short pants.

the t-shirt smells like hajoon and blood and the panic is quick to crawl back in, eager to sink its claws into jimin's heart. he tugs harder to get the shirt off, struggling to manage the movement.

before he hurts himself further, jeongguk is back at his side and patiently assisting him to remove the t-shirt. jimin blink when his head finally pops out, sucking in a deep breath.

jeongguk has placed some clothes down next to jimin and more importantly has a wet cloth in his hand. he doesn't seem annoyed that jimin had refused his help and then needed it.

instead, he brings the wet cloth up to jimin's face and wipes away dried blood, always catching jimin's eyes as he moves lower to make sure he's okay.

the cloth, once a bright shade of yellow, slowly turns brown. jimin is a little horrified at how quickly it discolours. just how much blood was on him?

"hajoon can't come here, right?" jimin asks, staring at the cloth and remembering how the blood had rained down on him, how jimin had swallowed some of it.

"he'd be pretty fucking stupid to come here," jeongguk answers, having moved to jimin's hands. he wipes across the backs of jimin's hands first before cleaning his palms and then the pads of jimin's fingers.

a shower would have been better but jimin doesn't think he could stand in one on his own right now and he might die of mortification if jeongguk had to help him.

"i'd fucking kill him," jeongguk adds, purposefully meeting jimin's eyes. his eyes are red again, his incisors elongated and jimin swallows, blinks, before jeongguk is back to his human self.

"what if...what if i did?" jimin says it so quietly he can barely even hear the words leave his own mouth. he keeps wondering why hajoon didn't give chase. the hajoon jimin knows would never have just let him get away.

"namjoon-hyung is heading back right now. i'll tell him to go by the apartment first, okay?" jeongguk doesn't even react, just continues to clean jimin up. when he's satisfied with his handiwork, he stands up and turns his gaze down to the clothes next to jimin. "go ahead and get changed."

the answer surprises jimin. shouldn't jeongguk be mad? if jimin...if jimin killed an alpha...

"pretty impressive if you did kill him," jeongguk adds, his mouth quirking up into a little smirk. "i didn't think you had that in you."

"i don't -- i, he was trying to bite me so i -- "

again, jeongguk's scent plummets, the sweetness putrefying instantly. his anger is palpable and jimin jerks back, whining instinctively to appease him.

"sorry," jeongguk grits out, eyes closing. jimin's amazed by how quickly he puts himself back together. gone are the red eyes, the sharpened teeth.

why was he so angry?

"i didn't mean to scare you." he steps away from jimin, the wet, ruined cloth still in his hand. there's a bitterness to his scent that still clings to him and he looks unhappy. "i'm just going to be outside the door, okay? take your time and if you need help, ask."

jimin nods meekly, admonished.

he can't quite move past how kind jeongguk has been. this is a side of him jimin has only caught glimpses of, a side reserved for the few pack members he held in the highest regard.

eventually, jimin manages to get out of his jeans, a much easier task. the clothes jeongguk has left for him are his own. his scent lingers on the fabric and jimin feels the heat rise to his cheeks, oddly pleased that the alpha was generous enough to lend them to jimin.

jeongguk's sweatpants are a little too long on jimin and he doesn't bother trying to put the t-shirt jeongguk's given him on. instead, he turns to the door and clears his throat. "jeongguk?"

"i'm here," jeongguk replies instantly.

"um, can you -- i, i need your help." embarrassment flushes through him but it'll be worse if he gets stuck trying to get the shirt on.

"coming," jeongguk answers, opening the door. jimin spots him slipping his phone into his pocket and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. the split from earlier already hurts a little less.

jeongguk had texted namjoon then because he hadn't heard him talking to anyone. eventually, jimin would have to explain all of this to namjoon and the thought makes his belly twist unhappily.

"should have helped you with this earlier," jeongguk mutters, more to himself than jimin. it slips past jimin's head a lot easier, a size or two too big because it drapes across jimin's smaller frame, leaving plenty on room to move around in.

"i don't know if you want any ointment for your wounds," jeongguk says, slipping jimin's right arm into the sleeve. it falls past jimin's elbow. "but i never really find it that helpful. i can get you some painkillers though, if you want."

"okay," jimin agrees, sitting back down on the bed. he feels anxious every time jeongguk leaves and then he feels stupid for being so needy.

jeongguk brings back the painkillers and a glass of water that jimin chugs down entirely. he hadn't realised he was so thirsty.

"we'll...we'll talk about what happened tomorrow. namjoon-hyung says he'll be here by seven, latest."

"hyung didn't -- "

"he's your pack alpha, so yes, he does." jeongguk's tone is stern, his eyes pinning jimin to the spot.

jimin nods, scolded, and wonders how it is that jeongguk can be so sure of things so easily. it's a three hour drive from daegu and namjoon is probably exhausted from a day spent in meetings with other pack alphas. the alarm clock on jeongguk's bedside table tells jimin it's almost two am.

"i'll stay here," jeongguk says, nudging jimin to lie down onto the bed. "you need to sleep."

he goes so far as to tuck jimin in, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to jimin.

he wants to ask jeongguk, aren't you tired, too? but jimin's eyes are so heavy and jeongguk's scent is sweet and calming, washing over jimin like the first drizzles of spring rain.

he falls asleep quickly, a hand finding it's way to the hem of jeongguk's tank top, fingers curling in.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

One of my all-time favorite Devilgrams isn't a UR card but this:

Why is no one talking about this??

It has so much Lucifer x MC angst potential that makes you go RAAAAAAAAAAH!! And the ending?? So perfect!! (Solmare, please give us more of MC getting upset with one of the boys and the guy in question trying to make up to them)

Now I'm thinking about making a fic based on this.

[coulsons-left-arm]

You remember that "father's finding their kids as babies," post I made of Coulson and Daisy the other day?

Yeah, I'm dropping the fic here since people aren't seeing it in my reblog (I'm so sorry about that 💀😭).

So here's a subpar 1.4k of Coulson and May finding the 084 (aka Daisy) back in 1989. 🫶🏻

Coulson and May are called in for a level 8 classified op even though they're entry level agents. It's all hands on deck for this one, so they're a little nervous, but May is holding it in well while Coulson is tryna be extra goofy (that's how she knows he's nervous).

Boots on the ground, and it's an absolute massacre. Many SHIELD agents look like they've been torn to shreds, and it's hard to look at, but they assess all but one are dead. Coulson leans closer to an agent who's last breath was used to "Find the squad leader." He closes the eyes of the dead and hopes and prays they can get at least one of their men out alive.

May happens upon the squad leader propped up under a bridge, covered in blood... But he's holding something? She looks closer to find something bundled up in a piece of bloodied fabric... And it's a baby... Fast asleep by the looks of it.

Gunfire behind them starts to pop off. They have to act fast. May grabs the baby and holds it close to her chest, staying low and trying to soften her steps to avoid any jostling of the little one. Coulson was able to fireman carry the squad leader's body back to the jet right before the ramp closed. It was close, but the agents and baby made it out unscathed.

Coulson leaves the squad leader's body with one of the spare agents, giving a moment to honor his sacrifice, before heading over to May who was still holding the baby. She's covered in blood which was hard to look at, but her features were cute, juxtaposing the sight. Coulson runs a finger along her cheek, wiping some of the blood off her and earning a tiny, content yawn.

It wasn't too terribly long before they landed, immediately greeted by scientists and a doctor who removed the child from May's arms. The baby began to cry, and the two agents felt a pang in their stomach. They had to trust that they would take care of the little one.

~~~~~

It had been three hours with no word from the analysis department. Coulson couldn't take it, so he marched down there and was greeted by some upset scientists at his presence. He didn't have high enough clearance level to know what was going on, but he could hear the high pitched cries just beyond the doors. He fought his way through the twiggy researchers, and was met with a horrifying sight.

They *did* clean her off, but they had kept her all but naked and on a hard surface like a specimen... Which she was far from being. Multiple vials of blood samples were nearby and he almost absolutely *lost it* on a nearby white coat. He ran through the grasping arms trying to stop him, but he was able to snatch the protesting baby up and hug her close to his chest. Cradling her, her cries were beginning to wane while scientists were flapping their gums about "unknown origins" and "possible contaminates." But it didn't matter.

They were treating a *baby* like a *lab rat*, poking and proding the poor thing.

May reached the lab, all eyes on her and giving way. The analysts knew better than to mess with someone who graduated from Ops. She walked over to Coulson, standing her ground and signalling over the doctor. She demanded he find "something to cover the baby." From the bunching of his shirt collar in her fist, he read her loud and clear and retrieved a diaper and a fuzzy blanket. Although he never had any experience, Coulson's confidence carried him through cladding the baby in the diaper, and returned her to his grip, laying the blanket over her back and over the top of her head. He could feel a little spot of drool forming on his chest through his PT shirt, but he didn't mind. Her little body wasn't squirming and her breaths came easy with a couple hiccups dappled in for good measure. He swayed side to side as May almost took out one of the scientists who dared to inch closer and asked if she had eaten at all since they took her.

Of course not...

But formula was quickly retrieved from *somewhere* (honestly, did SHIELD just keep baby stuff on base? And what for??? Was it normal for babies to show up on their doorstep???? If so, Coulson wasn't taught about any of this in his training...), along with a bottle and a pacifier.

May singlehandedly scared all of the analysts outside the lab, including the heartless doctor, and locked them out. They found the light switch and dimmed it for the baby. Who knows how long they kept poking and proding her. They snuck out the back entrance with her, finding a way to Coulson's bunk since May was currently sharing hers with another junior agent. They had snatched the Bunsen burner from the lab, and May snuck out and snatched a pan and a few bottles of water from the mess hall. She noted a silent alarm had been activated and kept to the shadows, avoiding cameras to get back to Coulson's room.

She was met with an evergrowing fussy baby in Coulson's arms as he was trying to keep her calm and soothed by gently speaking sweet nothings over her head as he sat on the edge of his bed. They both made quick work with the formula, getting the bottle to a warmer temperature they thought might be right. Neither of them knew *exactly* what they were doing or how to do it, but it sure was better than the treatment the scientists were putting the baby through.

Coulson shifted the baby from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow, and grabbed the heated bottle as the baby's cries were coming to a crescendo. Guiding the nipple into her mouth, she ceased her racket, and began frantically sucking while looking up at him with wet, red rimmed eyes. He couldn't help but swipe away some of the wet tears coating her chubby cheeks, smiling softly at her.

"Is that what you wanted?" He cooed over the light sucking sounds. "Does it taste okay? It's our first time making this stuff, so it's probably not five star worthy. Sorry about that."

It must've not been too bad since she consumed almost the whole bottle, her sucking coming to a slow as her eyes began to droop.

But aren't you supposed to burp babies after they eat? That was a thing, right? As much as he didn't want to disturb her entering a slumber, Coulson set the bottle down and propped her back up to his shoulder, patting her back. It didn't take long before he felt a warm sensation drip down the back of his shirt.

"She spit up, didn't she?" May nodded her head, looking towards his dresser drawers. "Second drawer from the top. Don't care which one.... As long as it's not my Cap shirt. Don't want her messing up that one." He received a scoff as he settled the baby in between his closed thighs, carefully pulling off his dirtied shirt. He twisted behind him to reveal nothing got on his sheets, a sigh of relief eacaping his chest. But the baby began whimpering, so he didn't wait for May to throw a shirt at him before picking up the (once again) fussy baby and cradling her close to his bare chest. She seemed to immediately quiet at the contact. Maybe it was the heat from his bare skin on hers? Maybe she could hear his heart thumping in his chest? Maybe... Maybe she just *liked* him??? Yes, it was a silly thought, but Coulson knew a lot of people liked him, whether it was someone he met out in the street, or a fellow junior at the academy. Maybe he had a similar effect on babies?

He snapped out of his silly thoughts when a lump of fabric hit his side, seeing an olive green t shirt sitting at his side.

"Thanks, May... But I don't know if I want to put that on quite yet. Look," he said as he twisted his torso in her direction. She peered over at the bundle against his chest, Coulson possibly seeing the tiniest sparkle in her eye. Completely forgetting to close his dresser drawer, she slowly padded over and sat down next to him on the bed, eyes trained on the little one who's breaths were lightly puffing against Coulson's chest hairs. She reached a finger towards one of the tiny balled up fists, her breath slightly hitching when it uncurled and grabbed a hold. The baby seemed the most calm they had seen her since finding her, settled deeply and undisturbed by the outside world. May carefully reached for the baby blanket that was discarded on top of the bed and draped it over Coulson's front.

"Maybe you should lie down with her," she suggested. "Make sure she gets some rest." It seemed reasonable, especially since they saved the poor little one from torture. It felt *right* to give her some rest. Coulson scooted back across the covers carefully, lying down against his pillow and feeling the gravity of the tiny weight naturally press against his chest.

There were a whole lot of things swirling around his brain. A sense of fierce protectiveness. Of unconditional love even though he only just met her. Of some sort of gap that filled that he didn't even know was there? Or maybe he did, but never acknowledged it? Either way, something in him wanted to break, but it would have to wait for later.

May reached for the baby blanket, covering up the both of them just right and placed a gentle hand over the baby's back... Which was also where Coulson's hand was. He'd be lying if his heart didn't skip a beat... Or two.

"I should probably head out and grab a couple things--"

"Stay?" The single word escaped his mouth before his brain could even catch it. He could feel his ears go warm at the way her hand's weight shifted on top of his. It almost left, but at his word it stopped for a moment before returning pressure.

*She wanted to stay, too.*

"...Okay." And before his brain could even process, let alone his bleeding heart, his partner in crime laid down next to him on her side, facing him and the baby, keeping her hand planted over his.

Coulson's mind boggled at the fact that he was shirtless, with a random baby on his chest snoozing away, unaware that he had his academy crush lying in his bed with him (fully clothed, but honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way).

Fury wasn't kidding that SHIELD was unlike any opportunity he would ever receive in his lifetime.

[solsilverpine]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

tagged by @hayesflint and @sunatsubu

Anyone that wants to do this can, tag me if ya do 👉😎👉

I have two fic's i'm working on right now so y'all can have a sneaky peak at both.

Warrior and the Lasat Ch 4

‘Zeb you need to do something about your Imperial,’ Kanan muttered as Zeb came back inside. ‘Look if this is about Hondo-’ ‘No what happened to… you know what never mind, just pick me up and take me to the library. It’ll be easier if I just show you.’

And under the cut a line from spicey lil one shot I've been working on about Kallus and Zeb using their retirement to try new things. (inspired by this drawing Hayes did a while ago)

‘I could spend the next decade praising your d*** with a devotion usually reserved for those who worship higher powers and still not convey everything…and that was before I saw you in lingerie. Now I might never have another productive day in my life. All those times people joked that I left the empire for your d*** weren’t accurate exactly but…they also weren't untrue.’ ‘Huh, look’s like I owe several people money next time we go back and visit- Oh, oh!’

[beelsjuicytitties]

Somewhere Only We Know

solomon x gn!reader

warnings/tags: slight angst, emotional hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, established relationship, partial solomon backstory spoilers?

summary: You hadn't heard from Solomon in weeks, and you were worried. So you go out in search of him.

—

AN: haha... its been a hot while since i posted my own writing here..... wrote this in like june when i was extra emo about solomon lol. title taken from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. read on Ao3

—

You were worried. You haven't been able to get into contact with Solomon for weeks. It wasn't exactly unusual for him to be somewhere he had no reception, but he'd always let you know beforehand. Everyone you had asked simply apologized, saying they had no clue where he was. And so, you decided to go and look for him yourself, remembering all the different places he's shown you, or told you about. You brought some provisions along, unsure of how long it would take to find the witty sorcerer you loved so dearly. 

  You spent most of a day checking around the devildom, teleporting from place to place without any signs that Solomon had been there recently. Settling down onto a large stump with a sigh, you pull out some of the food you had brought. All the teleporting was starting to wear at you, but you couldn't possibly stop now. It took only a few minutes to finish the food, the taste barely registering. You quickly packed up your things and stood. There was no time to rest, there was still the human world to search. You steeled yourself, before teleporting once again.

—

  Solomon wandered through a quiet field. The clear air helped to sooth his wrecked thoughts, but not enough. The sadness and grief he usually held at bay had overwhelmed him once more. In times like these, he tended to isolate. To run away and keep everything hidden from those around him. He hated this part of himself. The part of him that was a sad, lonely little boy. A boy that had lost anyone dear to him. A boy who curled up in the corner of the dark basement he lived in. His face was tense as he walked a game train through the tall grasses around him. The trail led him to a small ruin. A fallen tree that once stood proud and tall, next to a crumbling stone wall. He ran his hand along the once familiar stones, a deep melancholy gripping his heart. He sat gently on the fallen tree, and gazed up to the endless sky. Dusk had begun to settle in, the clouds painted in dark blues and saturated oranges. His tears were silent, slipping down his face and dropping onto his clothes.

—

The sky was growing dark as you finally felt traces of Solomon. Even without casting anything, his magic tended to seep out and stick to his surroundings. You followed the trail you were sure he had walked, steps quickening as you felt him more and more. Finally, after searching hell and back, literally, you see him. There's barely any light now, but you could never mistake his frame. You broke into a run, a sound of relief bursting from you. He looked towards you at the sound, surprised. He was less alert in this state, less aware of everything around him. The moment you reach him, your arms are around him, holding him tight to your body as you fall to your knees in front of him. It took Solomon a moment to fully realize what was going on. He looked down at you, seeing the way you clung to him as though he was your lifeline. The way you pressed your face against his chest, quiet sobs shaking your shoulders. 

  "How.. How did you find me?" Solomon inwardly cringed at the way his voice wavered. 

  "I looked everywhere. Everywhere you've ever taken me, or told me about. I was so worried Sol, I was so, so worried." You pulled back, just enough to see his face. His eyes were red and puffy, tear stains evident on his cheeks. He looked like he hadn't slept the entire time he was gone. Knowing Solomon, it was entirely possible. You raised a shaky hand to his cheek, cradling his face softly as though he might break. "I couldn't get in contact with you, no one knew where you were, I thought.." You swallowed back your tears. "I thought something happened to you." 

  Solomon's eyes widened, how long had he been gone? Everything was one big blur as he tried to recall how many nights had passed. "You know nothing can happen to me, I've always survived any mess I get myself into." A defensive smile tried to make its way onto his face, but it looked more like a grimace. "I'm okay, you don't need to be so worried MC." 

  "Please Sol… Please don't lie to me." You raised up your torso, so you could press your forehead to his. "You're always there for me when I need you, let me return the favour." Solomon took a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to begin falling once more. He raised his arms to wrap around you, leaning against you. The two of you stay like this for a while, just holding each other and breathing. Your legs were straining to keep you up but you didn't even notice. All of you was completely focused on Solomon in this moment. Without realizing, you began to hum. A gentle, soothing tune that Solomon had hummed for you countless times when you were broken down. A soft, sad smile made its way onto his face. 

  "My mother used to hum that for me. During the cold dark nights, when I would cry, she'd come down and hold me. When I was a very young boy."  You cracked your eyes open, and looked at him through your eyelashes. 

  "Is it alright?" He gave an affirmative hum, and you continued the tune. Solomon shifted his head down, nuzzling into your shoulder. You leaned your head against his. You weren't too sure how much time had passed, before he pulled back. 

  "Why don't you come sit next to me?" His voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sure your knees would appreciate a rest." You nodded, finally noticing how stiff you had grown as you moved beside him. You laced your fingers with his, and leaned against him. "... I'm sorry. I never wanted to worry you so." He squeezed your hand. "Thank you.. For coming to find me." 

  "Always, I will always come find you Sol." The promise warmed Solomon, helping him return to himself. "I love you Sol, I love you more than words could ever say." You turned to look at him, your eyes so full of love and care. Solomon had no clue what he had done to deserve you. His adorable little apprentice, who could calm his heart without even trying. Who warmed the forgotten parts of himself, that had been stuffed away by the years and years of pain and sadness. Who took the hand of that little boy, and brought him out into the warm sunlight. 

  "And I love you too, my Dear. more than I've ever loved anything. More than anything I've ever felt." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'll try to rely on you more, I promise. There are things I still can't bring myself to talk about, but I hope I can one day." A tired loving smile found its place on your face. 

  "I will wait as long as you need." This time, he pressed a kiss to your lips. It was such a tender kiss, so full of yours and his love. It was then that Solomon's stomach let out a growl. Come to think of it, he can't remember the last time he ate. He gave a sheepish laugh, worried he had somehow ruined the moment. "I brought some food, we could eat together?"

  "That would be wonderful, my Dear." You started pulling things from your bag, the meal was rather simple, prepared in a rush. Then you pulled out the soft blanket you had brought in case you had to sleep outside. You spread the blanket out in front of the tree and sat down. Leaning slightly against the tree behind your back, you pat the space next to you. Solomon sat down, pressing into your side as you passed him some food. You ate together in a comfortable silence, staring up into the starry sky. Solomon's hand found your own once more, the warmth welcome in the chilly night air. You stayed there til morning, pointing out constellations and talking. Solomon told you a bit more about his childhood, and you shared a bit of your own, before you both fell asleep against each other. 

[morningstargirl666]

hi, how's it going? love tbbw and all your other works! any wips in progress?

im fairly new to the fandom and was looking for a few good kc authors...any recs for fics and/or authors?

Hi! Thanks so much for enjoying tbbw! I'm not really working on anything else other that tbbw right now, but I do have a ghost!caroline au somewhere in my pile of drafts, as well as the next chapter for Divided We Fall and Songs of the Sea --- not that they're anywhere near finished 😂.

But if you meant what I'm working on for tbbw currently, I'm up to the old chapter 30, which is now split between chapter 41 and 42 in the rewrite (yes, it became two chapters --- not at all SHOCKING). I'll share something I worked on just last night under the cut.

As for kc authors.... so many good ones! @cupcakemolotov / cupcakemolotov and @lalainajanes / LalainaJ and @lynyrdwrites have hundreds (and I mean that literally) of kc fics under their belts, spanning dozens of aus. @bellemorte180 / BelleMorte180 also has done a ton of aus with many of them multichaps --- my favourite of hers is a one-shot called The Howling. @helpless-in-sleep / perfectpro has written an absolutely transcendant fic that deals with Caroline's trauma with Damon and I'm told her Adams Family AU is a kicker too. @little-miss-sunny-daisy / sunnydaisy has written a mix of brilliant aus and canon divergence fics, much like perfectpro. If you're into canon divergence and multichaps, @stars-and-darkness / for_darkness_shows_the_stars is your gal. @ks-caster / KS-Caster is much the same. It's not personally my thing, but if you liked the baby plot, @galvanizedfriend / Yokan has got you covered with The Wolf. @kirythestitchwitch / KiryTheStitchWitch is currently organising @klarolinewinterexchange which will release some new fics into the wild soon, and her own fics are legendary too.

If you want to check out some relatively new authors (that I've met recently anyway) there's @accidental-rambler , @artemisravencourtney , @impossiblekryptonitecolor , @averseunhinged and probably many more I'm forgetting. And because I can't leave my fellow kc artists unmentioned, @certifiedceraunophile @the-road-betwixt @stardust414 @push1na @highgaarden have all done some Queen Shit in this fandom and need to recieve more love, so go check them out.

As promised, here's a little sneak peak for tbbw --- Sam is NOT having a good time hehehehehe

Turns out, getting shot in the head was just as pleasant as it sounds.

The pain was unlike anything else when he woke; like a hot poker had just been shoved right through his skull, searing through the tissue behind his eyes. But before that, before he became aware of the pain, woke to the world around him — there was the in-between. 

A vampire’s soul didn’t cross to the Other Side when they were ‘killed’, even though their bodies imitated the process of dying. They were clinically dead to the rest of the world when their necks snapped, or when a wooden bullet was put between their eyes. And even as the magic that kept Sam from true death began healing his body, the cells in his brain had already started dying, releasing one desperate flood of DMT before the lights went out, dreaming bigger than he’d ever dreamed before. Some see their life flash before their eyes; memories skittering across your brain, full of loved ones and friends, mixing with a firework display of imagination to create one last delirium-induced fever dream. 

Sam, well.

Sam saw Riley.

She’d been little, when they were taken. Barely just older than four. He remembered she had their mom’s eyes; their mom’s laugh. During those dark days, deep underground, where no one could hear them scream—

He’d have given anything to make her laugh. He managed to, once or twice; coerced a smile from that small, innocent face.

That face, in all its deathly stillness, was the last thing he had seen before Lycaon’s venom had torn its way through his body, setting his blood on fire. Lycaon had been too late to save her, nearly too late to save him. 

The bite was always a gamble; a simple toss of a coin. Life? Or death?

That day, Sam had lived.

But his sister had died.

And all those memories; that kaleidoscope of horrors that warped and twisted behind his eyelids rushed to the surface, lingering like a wraith as he woke, hissing in his ears. His expression twisted with pain as the agony inside his head split his skull open, and for minute, he thought it was the witches, twisting their magic into his blood vessels with cruel fingers and making them explode—

“He’s awake! He’s awake!” a voice shouted to others, out of place in such memories. 

The vervain hit Sam next. Suddenly he found himself coughing, rolling over as harsh breaths shook his entire body, struggling to breathe through the poison in the air.

“Ask if Klaus is alive–” another voice was saying, further away and distinctly male.

“Hybrid!” someone else yelled over them. “You lying, traitorous excuse of a lap dog. Where’s my brother? Is he alive? Answer me!”

Sam’s eyes shot open. His fingers scrambled over his forehead, digging into the wound in the middle of it, wincing at the pain and wheezing in every breath of vervain-infused air, pulling out something close to the surface. It dropped to the floor amongst the hay and dirt, a sharp, pointed thing; a wooden bullet.

The fuck?

“Sam, thank god,” someone near him said; the one who had spoken first. He looked up, meeting concerned, kind eyes. Her face blurred, Sam’s eyes tearing up from the sting of vervain. Her voice sounded urgent, trying to reach him through the wooden, barred walls. “Are you okay? Sam, can you hear me?” 

Wait… barred?

He stared at her fingers, wrapped around an iron bar to the right. Like a cage.

Sam looked up, eyes moving around the pen he was caged in, gaze roaming the walls; from the barred window slightly higher up and the locked cell door, to the vervain misting in the air, blowing out of the fans in the corner of the room. When he spoke, it was just one word, but the sheer desperation in his voice, the fear, like he was pleading for a lie, struck a horror in him so deep, everyone heard it.

“No.”

It was bigger than the ones the witches kept him, the walls haphazardly reinforced together, rather than meticulously organised — premeditated — but the feeling was the same. He could feel the walls closing in, the dread — the knowing — that there was no escape suffocating him more successfully than the vervain. Helpless. Forgotten. Left to rot in the dark and the cold.

And this time — alone.

“Sammy? I’m scared.”

He choked, but not from the vervain. He rolled onto his back, scrambling away from the cell door in front of him like it was a terrifying beast and not a simple meld of iron and hinges.

“It’s alright, Ry. Someone will come, you’ll see.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” A pause; followed by movement in the dark. “Pinky swear?”

A quiet, sniffled giggle. “Pinky swear.”

Sam stared at the cell door in horror, beginning to shake his head back and forth, repeating that same word over and over.

“No, no, no, no, no, no-”

His hand came up to clutch his hair, pulling so harshly at the strands it hurt, just as his back hit the wall behind, nowhere left to run.

“Sam! Sam!” Caroline yelled, trying to get his attention. “What’s the matter?”

Sam couldn’t hear her.

“Dad says you lost your younger brother,” he’d asked Klaus once, when the man had still hated him, sneering whenever he came close.

“I don’t talk about it.”

“That’s alright,” Sam had said back, looking out across the woods, leant on the cabin’s balcony. “I don’t talk about it either.”

Klaus hadn’t said a word, but he’d looked at him. And then his face had softened. In the silence that followed, for the first time, they found some common ground.

[tetzoro]

good morning and happy thursday friendz!! i hope today is kind to you and that you treat yourself to something extra sweet ! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)