#i think he probably could also do it to EB

[silverskye13]

I need you to know that I've been rotating your doodles of the boys in my head and all I can think abt is tanguish using Helsknight as like a stool or smth to get to a higher place that has no convenient thingys to grab under it

I'm personally thriving on the idea of Tanguish doing what my cat does, which is, now that he's aware he can climb Helsknight like a tree and the knight won't fall over, he does it at random times without warning. Helsknight is standing close enough to a high place Tanguish wants to get to? Steppy-steppy-scrabble-scrabble-skadoodle, you are a ladder now.

[rhiannonsknife]

── .✦ DATING RHIANNON LEWIS

— summary: dating rhiannon lewis hcs.

— warnings: fem!reader. established relationship. canon-typical violence. some fluff. and when i say ‘some’, i mean the first point. after that, things went downhill. nsfw content. mdni. knife play. spanking. i didn’t beta read.

only finding out that you‘ve pulled a literal serial killer when your girlfriend comes home covered in blood.

sure, you‘ve had your suspicions that rhiannon was hiding something before: you would occasionally hear her leaving the house late at night whereas she would later claim she went on a walk with tink (who walks their dog at the crack of dawn??) and you sometimes catch a glimpse of bruises when rhiannon comes out of the shower wrapped in nothing but a towel. but she would always come up with excuses for these as well. so realization only really dawns upon you when you get off work early one day, ready to curl up on the couch with some of rhiannon’s ice cream while you wait for your girlfriend to come home. when she does come home shorty after, she’s covered in blood (or dragging a body down the hall, thinking she’s got the house to herself). the prolonged eye contact when she notices you sitting on her couch, the spoon sliding from your grip and clattering down onto the hardwood floor…awkward.

being the only exception on her kill lists!!

rhiannon’s kill lists would make anyone uneasy. except that, for you, it’s oddly endearing because she considers you her only exception once you get to know each other and start dating. she shields you from her darkest thoughts, and despite her usual disdain for people, she’d genuinely want to keep you close. if anyone ever crossed you, though…not only would they immediately make it onto her long list of people to murder, rhiannon would instantly start plotting her next kill. it’s how she shows her love <33 she would definitely have unique love languages guys!! instead of overly affectionate stuff, she probably tends to keep an eye on the people around you to make sure no one ever wrongs you. if someone does, she would obviously try to offer comfort, but her solution would probably be a) unconventional, and b) rather blunt: “want me to kill them for you?“, “i could make their life miserable, y’know?”

taking care of her after a particularly rough night.

do you endorse murder? not exactly, no. but rhiannon has convinced you that all of her victims genuinely deserved it and you know better than to question your girlfriend. what she does out there, you’ve decided, is none of your business. that only changes when she returns back home from her killing sprees: that’s when you’ll help her change her clothes, or run her a hot bath to wash off the dried blood from her bare skin! taking a bath with rhiannon and kissing her bruised knuckles one by one to soothe the ache <33 washing her hair for her, massaging her scalp and her burning muscles in the hot water of the bathtub <33 having her lean against you until it gets too cold to stay in there <333

taking care of her after a particularly rough night.

while she appreciates these loving gestures, it isn’t always what rhiannon needs. sometimes, to be taken care of isn’t what she craves. sometimes, when the adrenaline has not yet ebbed and she comes home in blood that’s still wet and warm to the touch, what rhiannon needs is to take you. in this disheveled state, she will come bursting through the door, stripping out of her clothes the second it falls shut behind her. seeing that you’ve waited for her to come home on the couch, she will snap at you to get on all fours for her, her fingers already unbuckling her belt as she speaks. also: rhiannon who wears the strap when she’s out killing people so she can get down to business right away once she’s back home <33

rhiannon, who doesn’t necessarily needs your touch or for you to make her feel good. the sight of you getting fucked is enough to get her off too.

she’s not opposed to the idea of using you for her own pleasure occasionally. it’s quite the opposite, actually: she loves how eager you are for this, often asking her to use you. but the point is that she doesn’t need that to feel satisfied: watching you work for it, bouncing on her strap whilst she’s still covered in blood or begging for her touch whilst you kneel before her, sucking on her fingers, is more than enough for rhiannon.

rhiannon who fucks you from behind in front of a mirror so she can see your eyes roll back whilst also looking at the reminders of her previous kill.

the blood is smeared all over her as she pounds into you from behind: it’s dribbling down her chest, trailing down the valley between her exposed breasts -she has taken just enough time to unbutton her shirt for you. so you have something to look at, she’d claimed with a grin. you’re not complaining now that you can watch them move with every deep thrust of her hips. there’s blood on your body too. a crimson handprint on each of your ass cheeks. a trail up your spine. rhiannon is making sure you’re marked up in the evidence of her actions. “look at me” she orders sharply as your head falls into the pillows to stifle your cries. when you don’t immediately obey, her fingers tighten in your hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look up by tugging on it. “look at me” rhiannon repeats, moaning as if she could actually feel your pussy clench around the silicone cock. her eyes roll back in the reflection as she looks at the mess she’s made of you, a reminder of the thrill of her murders and the fact that you’re so willingly hers in spite of that. she cums untouched at the realization.

she loves to worship your body.

rhiannon loves to do this when she’s not caught up in the adrenaline rush and actually has time to fuck you good. that’s when she’ll make you strip for her or use her beloved knife to tear the clothes off of you.

okay pause because i need to get into that for a second: rhiannon, who tears your clothes apart with her knife.

she lies you down beneath her, on a night where you’ve got all the time in the world, and reaches for the knife she always carries around with her. it’s slightly unsettling, but you trust her. “tell me to stop and i will” rhiannon murmurs against the back of your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. she snickers softly when she notices, her fingers running up and down your sides first. then, suddenly, there’s the sharp, cold sensation of the blade against your bare back. you inhale sharply and rhiannon soothes you. “shh” she whispers and you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your skin. “let me have this” and then she’s cutting through the fabric of your shirt smoothly, tearing it off of your bare body once she’s done, before tracing the shape of your outline with the blunt side of her blade. she’s committing every detail of you to memory, following every curve and dip of the body she loves most with the same weapon she normally uses to take lives.

anyway, back to what i was saying. rhiannon worshipping your body.

she adores your body and she will use every chance she can get to remind you of it. once she has you naked beneath herself, there’s no stopping her. she will cover you in kisses, tasting every inch of skin her mouth can reach, licking up the side of your neck before whispering: “gonna fuck you so good” into your ear. and, god, she does: rhiannon who fucks you deep when she’s got the time to!! holding one of your thighs up while her mouth is sucking marks to your pulse point and her hips are grinding in a slow but steady rhythm, stretching you out around her and reaching in so deep.

rhiannon, who moans when she’s literally just finger fucking you.

her jaw goes slack when she first sinks two of her fingers into your wetness, her lips parting against your own so she’s panting right into your mouth. rhiannon’s lashes flutter when she pulls her fingers back, her eyes watching you closely as she pumps them back into you again and again. her face is mirroring your own: mouth agape, brows drawn together in pleasure, eyes hazy with lust. the little ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds she makes with every single thrust….

she gets rougher in bed after longer periods of time without killing anyone.

she’s claiming to be fine when you go on longer vacations with her but clearly she isn’t. she can’t even enjoy the scenery or all the activities you suggest without feeling the tension of not having the weight of her knife in her pocket. all this pent-up tension leads to her becoming increasingly frustrated and rougher when she’s fucking you. it’s not like you mind it, much, but it’s still a noticeable change: she’ll push you more frequently, fucking you into a state of overstimulation where you literally can’t walk properly for days. her hands are much more aggressive as they tear off your clothes or land hard smacks on your ass that make you cry out in the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. she fucks herself into exhaustion, either by having you on her cock in various positions or by using you for so long she’s a babbling, breathless mess near the end of the night.

rhiannon, who tells you to shut up.

as much as you both enjoy hearing the other during sex, sometimes it’s just not what rhiannon needs (specifically when she’s using you for her pleasure). when she’s sitting on your face or grinding against your thigh, she doesn’t need you to tell her how hot she is, she doesn’t need your words of encouragement or praise. she needs you to shut up and take it. “fucking shut up, will you?” she hisses, pinning your wrists down above your head, her lips lingering above yours as she humps your thigh. “shut up and take it”

— i might add more to this or write a part 2 if anyone wants to hear more of my horny rhiannon thoughts <3

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[thewertsearch]

CG: BESIDES, JADE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE PLAN. CG: FOR ONE THING, YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT FOR HER TO SEND YOU THE CODE FOR THE QUILLS. CG: YOU CAN'T SCRATCH THE MESA WITHOUT THEM. CG: SHE GOT THEM FROM HER DENIZEN, OR WILL LATER ON HER TIMELINE, NOW THAT SHE LIT THE FORGE AND WOKE THE MONSTER UP. […] EB: did she kill him? CG: HELL IF I KNOW, HER EXPLANATION OF THE ENTIRE ENCOUNTER BOILED DOWN TO AND I QUOTE "shenanigans"

It certainly doesn't sound like Jade fought Echidna directly. That'd definitely be a tall order for a Player who's been in the Medium for less than a day.

Let's assume, then, that Echidna relinquished the Quills of her own free will. This reads to me as a vote of confidence – as if Echidna approves of the reboot, or at least won’t intercede to prevent it.

Davesprite’s version of Hephaestus was angry about being in a doomed timeline, because it meant that he could never complete his ‘work’, which I believe to be the universe itself.

This current timeline isn’t doomed, exactly – but it is pointless, since it can't birth a universe. Echidna probably wants a timeline where her frog Quest can actually bear fruit, so maybe she’s willing to negotiate with Jade in order to make that happen.

CG: ANYWAY, AFTER SHE GIVES THAT TO YOU, SHE THEN HAS TO GO THROUGH WITH THE REST OF THE PLAN, WHICH IS MAKING SURE YOU ALL SURVIVE AFTER THE SCRATCH, MINUS ONE OF THE DERSE DREAMERS OF COURSE. CG: THE PLAN REVOLVES AROUND SOME REALLY BAFFLING HAND WAVEY MUMBO JUMBO WHICH I DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND, BUT SHE TOLD ME TO TRUST HER ABOUT IT BECAUSE THE INFO COMES FROM A "Reliable informant." CG: WHITENED FOR SMUG TOOL. CG: IT INVOLVES SOMETHING TO DO WITH A YELLOW LAWN RING.

So the Yellow Yard is also Scratch’s idea! Great! That's awesome!!

I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. We can assume, then, that the kids will preserve themselves in a manner which is disadvantageous for them, and advantageous for English. Maybe they'll be be reduced to something as insubstantial as Aradia's ghost form - still technically present in the session, but unable to warn their successors about the demon menacing their reality.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around what a yellow yard could possibly be. Hussie’s direct involvement suggests to that there’ll be some meta element to their escape – in which case, it's not really possible for me to predict what'll happen. Hussie could pull anything.

EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what Dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died. EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice. […] CG: […] IT'S A TOTAL NON ISSUE. JACK WOULDN'T HESITATE TO STAB YOU AGAIN, BUT HE WON'T HURT JADE FOR SOME REASON. […] CG: HE LINGERS AROUND HER UNTIL THE SCRATCH BEGINS AND I LOSE THE FEED, NEVER ONCE DOING ANYTHING THREATENING. [...]

And after the feed cuts out, Jack somehow finds his way into the troll session. I still don't have a clue what's up with that.

CG: [...] SHE SAYS SHE THINKS IT'S BECAUSE JACK INHERITED LOYALTY OF HER LUSUS.

Maybe Jade'll toss a steak into the Rift, or something.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

One Big Family

Team Free Will 2.0 & Winchester little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

It was impossible, crazy, ridiculous.

But it was also happening. After over twelve years, the Winchesters finally got to see their father again.

It wasn’t what Dean had meant to wish for, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially not now, with what was happening in front of him.

You, his twelve year old little sister, were basically meeting your father for the first time. You were mere months old when he died, so you knew him from pictures only.

After everything had been explained to John, his first request had been to re-meet you. Sam had gone to your room to explain what was going on, and when he returned Dean and John watched as you shuffled along behind Sam, his jacket gripped in your small fists as you hid behind him.

“That’s her?” John breathed, and Dean turned in surprise to see tears welling up in John’s eyes. “She…she’s so big.”

“It’s ok,” Sam whispered to you, trying to coax you out from behind him. You peeked around him to see John getting down on one knee to be less intimidating.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted with a wide smile, and between his soft eyes and the way he said “sweetheart”—just the way Dean said it—you felt your shyness ebbing slightly as you stepped out from behind Sam’s legs.

“Hi,” you mumbled shyly, shuffling your feet as you approached John.

John reached his arms up slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for your approval. You, never one to turn down a hug, gave it readily and melted into your father’s arms.

Dean had never seen his father smile like he did as he held you in his arms.

“It’s good to see you,” John said quietly as he pulled away. You didn’t seem to know what to say, so Sam spoke up.

“Honey, how about you show him your room?”

You lit up with excitement, snatching up John’s giant hand in your small one and practically dragging him towards your room.

“Ok, ok,” John laughed. “I’m coming!”

“I guess she’s warming up to him,” Sam chuckled to Dean after you disappeared with John in tow.

“We should probably join them,” Dean said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

…

“Wow.” John laughed. “You’ve gotta lot of toys in here.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Daddy bought me most of them, he’s really—“ you trailed off when you saw the look of shock on John’s face.

Sam and Dean entered your room before John could ask what you meant, and as soon as they came in you ran to Sam, suddenly shy again in John’s presence. You didn’t know how he would feel when he found out about the angel that was like a third dad to you.

“Hey, something wrong?” Sam glanced between you and John.

“Um, no,” John spoke up, recovering from his shock. “We were just catching up. Dean, can I talk to you?”

Dean nodded, and he and John stepped out of your room.

…

“Kid, did something happen?” Sam asked gently.

“I—um, I mentioned daddy,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes.

“Hey,” Sam coaxed, kneeling down to meet your gaze. “He’s not gonna be mad, ok? He’ll understand, you didn’t do anything.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with more assurance than he felt.

…

“What happened?” Dean questioned.

“It’s nothing, just…” John cleared his throat, and Dean had never seen him so hesitant. “I just wanted to know…does she call you two her dads?”

The question threw Dean a little.

“I…”

“Look, I get it,” John cut in. “She hasn’t seen me since she was a baby, it makes sense. She just, she mentioned ‘daddy’ and I…I was curious.”

Dean nearly cringed, but he kept his face in check. ‘Daddy’ was your moniker for Cas, and Dean wasn’t too sure how his father would react to the knowledge of angels.

“That’s a really long story,” Dean sighed. “I think maybe we should all talk about it.”

…

“So…angels,” John said quietly about an hour later. “And…the apocalypse?”

“Yeah, more than one,” Dean scoffed.

“And an angel, and the son of Lucifer are living with you,” John added.

“Jack,” you corrected with a smile. “He’s my big brother,” you added proudly. With the less-than-welcome greeting Jack had gotten when he entered the world, you had taken it upon yourself to make him family, and even though you were technically eleven years older than him, he always felt like a big brother to you.

“I see,” John said, smiling softly at you. “You three have been busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said.

…

The four of you spent all day together, and John did all he could to get to know you.

You hit it off well with him, rambling non-stop about everything he’d missed, and he listened with wrapt attention.

You got to experience a lot of firsts with John—he gave you a piggyback ride, you had a pillow fight, and to cap it all off, the whole family sat down for one last meal. But all too soon, it was time to say goodbye.

The moment the boys found out that John had to go, they decided that you shouldn’t be around when it happened. So, at the end of the night that had ended way too soon, John pulled you into his arms for a final goodbye.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” he said with finality. “These three dads you got here are raising you right, so you listen to them, ok?”

“Ok,” you promised through your tears.

“Hey,” John pulled back, framing your face with his large hands and using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears. “It’s ok, sweetheart. We got this day to remember, yeah? That’ll have to be enough for us.”

You nodded, leaning forward for one last hug. John reciprocated, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” John breathed. Just as he was about to pull away, you stopped him with a tug on his arm and a gentle whisper in his ear. At your words, he smiled and picked you up, and Sam and Dean trailed behind as John carried you into your room…

Where John Winchester got to tuck his little girl into bed for the first time, kissing her head and wishing her goodnight. He closed the door with great hesitation, giving you one final, longing glance before shutting off the light and closing your door.

“You’ve got a good kid in there,” John said to his sons, no longer able to hold back the tears.

“Thanks, dad,” Dean smiled.

“You tell that angel friend of yours thanks for me, ok?”

…

You awoke the next morning to a quiet bunker.

“Daddy?” You began. “Are you back yet?”

With a flutter of wings, Castiel stood in front of you.

“Hello little one,” he greeted with a smile. “Yes, I got back last night after you fell asleep.” Cas grinned when you launched yourself into his arms. “I’ve heard you had quite the eventful day.”

You recounted every moment of the previous day with your father, and Castiel watched with a patient smile, glad that you got to meet John, even if just for a day.

“Well, after such an exciting day I’d say you need a lot more sleep,” Castiel said with a frown when he noticed the early hour.

“Can you tuck me in?” You asked shyly.

He smiled, “Of course little one.”

“You’re awake.”

The two of you turned at the sound of Jack’s voice in the doorway.

“I’m putting her back to sleep,” Castiel informed him.

“I wanna say hi to Jack first!” You insisted, jumping out of bed and running to hug Jack. He laughed and hugged you back tightly, before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to bed.

“Castiel is right, it’s far too early for you to be up, little sister. Get some rest.” He set you down gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead, an action mirrored by Cas.

“Sleep tight, little one.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do nsfw hc for Tristan and Lancelot with a fem so

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

Sypnosis [As written in the request]

Characters [Tristan Liones, Lancelot]

Note || this took me some time to think about because I didn’t want to stray from their personalities in these headcanons, lmaooo. The brain worms possessed me probably. Please read of your own volition.

Tristan Liones

He genuinely takes stride in ensuring your pleasure over his, as embarrassing to him, Tristan enjoys the look on your face when you blank out; brought over the edge. He burns that to memory pretty well.

Not to say he gets greedy himself too sometimes, with some general coaxing on your end—he gets a little more confident in going in at it himself. Of course, he will stop all notion to make sure your okay if you even let out any sort of pained sounds. Tristan may be a bit ebbed on the rough department but he won’t continue unless he knows you’re okay.

He isn’t necessarily iffy about the idea of control, he doesn’t mind if it’s him or you. But being with you right there, matters more to him.

Tristan likes thigh-riding, doesn’t matter which side or position but he really, really likes it. Mainly to him, it exudes a sense of itimacy and confidence compared to other positions.

He has a basic understanding and rough idea of sexual intimacy initially, but through you, and getting to—more or less explore you; he had gotten better at taking care of you. But he does like being on the receiving end of the pleasure if you absolutely prefer taking the lead.

Missionary is the classic but most earnest position for him.

Tristan really, and I mean—REALLY likes kissing you during the session. May as well be knocked breathless more often by the kisses then by anything else your feeling.

He takes consent and boundaries very seriously, if you are feeling unsure or uncomfortable then he will stop. No ifs, ands or buts.

Dearest Tristan has a possessive streak, he likes leaving a few marks here and there. But where it cannot be seen, he wants you to be saved from the embarrassment of that later on.

A huge, huge thing for praising. Both giving and receiving, he wants to know if he’s doing good. But also, he always lets you know how good you make him feel.

Tristan can have a pretty mature take on the moment, but he be pretty silly as well, it doesn’t always have to be a particularly bad thing. But it always catches you off guard when he says something random (what he says can be up to you) in the moment, which completely removes the romantic atmosphere of it.

He prefers doing it with you in the absolute privacy of the bedroom, but Tristan can also be feeling risky about doing it with you in semi-public spaces. For example; a forest. But he would rather die if you two got interrupted by someone else, then deal with the embarrassment of the aftermath.

Tristan isn’t a quickie person, he really isn’t. He prefers the slow and steady, more proper thence the quickness. It would just bother him way too much afterwards, Tristan likes taking his time in the moment with you; he likes getting to know how you feel.

He has a roughly more then average stamina, but Tristan last less if receiving; he is pretty sensitive.

Tristan can be quick to tease surprisingly, but he isn’t the kind to spell out mean words (irregardless of being a more punishing type, he just can’t do that). He prefers a gentle tone, if that makes sense.

Afterwards, he won’t go to sleep quickly, but he will ensure you feel okay and take care of you before he thinks about falling asleep himself. He can be pretty sleepy afterwards otherwise though.

Lancelot

With this mischievous bastard, there’s no being quiet. He likes hearing how you sound, he’s incredibly adept at hearing, so Lancelot wants to be sure you are feeling good. Lancelot will stop if you happen to be in pain, just from a pained sound. He doesn’t want to injure you or cause you any pain.

He doesn’t have any reservations about positions, but he’s incredibly iffy about ones you’ve had tried together. But that’s all he’s kept to himself.

Munch, he’s one of the biggest munches you’ll ever meet. Lancelot’s got tounge for days, and he’ll make sure you know that. He in particular gets real excited about your pleasure when you lock your legs around his head. He likes how you taste and he is not ashamed to admit that.

Akin to Tristan, he values consent and boundaries. Lancelot won’t at all make you feel ashamed for wanting to stop, if you want to stop then that’s what is happening.

Overstimulation is indeed on the table, he kinda likes how fucked out you look, even if he ends up overstimulating himself in the process. But he will bring you back from it in due time.

Mark him up, go for it! He likes seeing it, during or after; Lancelot relishes it. Not that he doesn’t have a possessive sense of self, but when it’s you? Oh hell yes.

He can be a pretty risky person, but Lancelot prefers it to be just him and you — without the risk of interruption.

Lancelot lasts for a decent amount of time, but when he feels tapped out—he’ll let you know; and vice versa.

His initial understanding and idea of sexual intimacy was mostly next to nothing at first, only that he knew it was something that happened with the consenting parties involved. But he never imagined he’d be able to do such a thing with you, he has nicer view of it thanks to you.

If you or him get all bothered by eachother; maybe one way or the other, he’ll definitely do something about it as quick as possible. Don’t wanna prolong it, unless if it’s necessary.

Absolutely no quickies, he seldom likes the idea, but if you don’t want the quickie then he doesn’t either. Alongside you, he likes being in the moment with you, without such a limited time period.

We know Lancelot, he can tease you to no end. He just genuinely likes seeing how red you can get because of it, especially during the session.

Lancelot is, overall, rather tender in bed with a teasing streak, but don’t be mistaken — he will leave you panting, and shaking from an earth-shattering orgasm. The fox knows how to please a woman, the experience overtime helped.

In the moment, he does ruin it by being silly, but that will extend most of the time during the session. You will never completely feel serious about it when it’s with him, a couple laughs here and there really do have him looking at you like your the light that shines down on the world.

Lancelot, despite having vague moments of impatience, can be incredibly patient when it comes to sex. He likes riling you up.

Similar to Tristan; Aftercare king. It’s so important to him, and Lancelot will never fail to provide, even if you didn’t do anything intense. He’ll massage your thighs to ease the shaking after you cum, he’ll clean up your mess and prepare a warm bath for you. While you bathe, he’ll clean the sheet. Honestly — best boyfriend.

[alphajocklover]

just wanted to say that Uncle story you made was really good... Any chance for a part 2?

Hey everyone. I wanted to thank you all for your kind words concerning my Uncle John. After I shared what had happened to him and how I got into TF reporting, I got a lot of supportive messages (along with the regular ones that seem to think this is some sort of… kink blog? What even is that?). Because of how kind you’ve been, I thought I should update you on how everything is going. I’m sorry to say there isn’t much to update you on though. I have a good idea as to who transformed my uncle, which I’ll probably expand upon in another post (I keep saying that, I know, but I will), but what I don’t know is where he is. I haven’t got a clue where he is at the moment, but luckily I’m not the only one searching for him.

The Douchebag Revolution has been keeping an eye out for him for one. Since I help them out sometimes they’ve been helping me. They can be surprisingly nice at times, and they’re pretty sympathetic to people who have been transformed against their will, since they all were at some point. They also seem to have somehow gotten the idea that Uncle John was straight before he got transformed, but since that seems to motivate them more I haven’t corrected them.

I have members of other groups I’ve mentioned helping me too. I won’t name names, since they could get fired (or transformed), but I do have some connections at EB Jewelry, despite the company's anti-journalist policy. They’re the reason I was actually able to get some information on the company in the first place, and they’ve been using some of their connections within the company to help look for my Uncle. They haven’t found much yet, though it's because of them I can safely say that EB Jewelry isn’t involved in what happened.

Then of course there are the other TF Reporters who help, a few personal friends of my Uncle, and… Nick. My Uncles literally devilish friend, Nick. Honestly, he’s been looking harder than anyone, and I think I know why. I’ve always referred to Nick as my Uncle’s devil friend, and that's how he introduced himself to me, but… from what I’ve noticed, they were actually closer than that. It was the little things that gave it away. The look in Nick's eyes when he talks about my uncle, both fond and painful, the way he seems more desperate to find him than I do, how protective he’s been of me since my Uncle disappeared. I think he and my Uncle John were seriously involved, for quite a long time.

It’s kind of weird to realize your Uncle is, or at least was, in a long term relationship with a devil, but no matter the reason, I’m glad he's here. I don’t know If I could do all this without Nick's help. He’s half the reason I haven't been turned into a dumb hunk myself. I do worry sometimes that this is starting to get to him. Whoever transformed Uncle John has been sending… pictures, recently. He’s always transformed in a different way and with a different look, but I can just tell it’s him. They’re showing him off like some sort of trophy, using him to mock us. Nick never says anything but it’s killing him seeing my Uncle that way, I can tell.

This whole thing is my fault. I was the reason my Uncle got changed. I have to get him back. I know whoever took him is reading this post. I know you’re powerful, powerful enough that time travel, demons and capitalist don’t want to fight you. But I’m not afraid of you. I know who you are, and I’m giving you a fair warning: I’m coming for you, and I’m getting him back. No matter what.

**I’ve been meaning to do a sequel to the ‘My Uncle’ story for a while. I love big lore stories. I need to introduce the big bad soon, but there so much other stuff to write too so it might still be a bit. Hope you love this story and hope you guys can wait!**

[starryhologram]

CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュー��カル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

[sunsetcougar]

okay okay Lyrebird exorcist AU. I know this probably wont happen, but when the Hotel's finally has enough of Valentino's shit, what if Vaggie lures him into an ambush using Angels voice? Or would she just refuse to do it outright because it resembles what she did as an exorcist too much? Maybe she thinks "Just one last time..." but after she does it she just has a panic attack because she's doing it again? On another note: I am fascinated by the overlords in general, and how would they react to somehow learning Vaggie is a former exorcist? I mean in canon i dont think it would be that big a deal, but in this AU exorcists are much more terrifying. They are moreso monsters than soldiers. Also how did the interaction with Carmilla go exactly? We know Vaggie was in a daze, but the whole interaction was probably a lot more tense on Carmine's end. I mean this voice stealing monster is suddenly in her home making demands, again exorcists are a bigger threat here. But Carmilla had killed one of them so its possible the fear of facing off against one (not the entire flock of course) ebbed away somewhat.

Oh that’s a bit of a tricky one. Vaggie would outright refuse unless Charlie asked her. She struggles to say no to her, so she’d suck up her nerves and use her mimicking. But you’re right that it would end with her having a panic attack. Using her mimicry to lure someone to their death feels so… right. So horribly right and relieving, like she gave into an addiction she was finally getting clean of. (What if she can’t stop? What if she gives in again and again? What if she hurts one of her friends or worse, Charlie?)

Alastor is the first overlord to learn Vaggie is an exorcist, and while he’ll never admit it she scares unnerves him, especially after he learns that one of the voices in her library is his mother’s. Rosie is second to find out when she and Charlie talk, and she’s far from comfortable with the idea of one of those… things being one of Hell’s permanent residents, but doesn’t say so to Charlie’s face.

Eventually the news that the princess is dating a fallen exorcist spreads and it makes the other overlords at minimum nervous. It’s one thing to not be able to trust voices one day a year, but now there’s a mimic designed to kill them running loose 24/7, 365…

As for Carmilla, she figures out Vaggie is an exorcist before they even meet face to face. It’s not rocket science after all. And since she doesn’t know how the exorcist’s mimicking works, if they trade voices face to face or if it’s some kind of hive mind, and doesn’t want to risk them getting her voice, she uses text-to-speech during their meeting. That was Vaggie’s first clue that Carmilla knew something because she knows the overlord isn’t mute, so why isn’t she talking?

Carmilla is as afraid of the exorcists as every other sinner, the idea of losing her voice to one, especially considering she killed one, is terrifying. If they found out, if they took her voice, they could use it to lure out her daughters. If they got her daughter’s voices, they could use it to lure out her. She knows she’d go running if her children cried, even if she knew it was probably an exorcist.

[greeen-bean]

Day three (Just go with it):

First annotation: "Do you talk to yourself?" Yes

I also about the talking to yourself being weird thing I wrote "It's the autism I've fact checked" because it is the autism and I have fact checked this (asked my other autistic friends)

I have been getting very emotional reading this book (what else is new) because I finally have friends that I can be like this with and it is a GAME CHANGER and I love them all so much

"Angel" I know her

I AM PLATONICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU VHGCTYDYTIUGKHJCGHDRYE%&R^T&IUGKHJCGDTYURYITUGJKHCJGDTURITUOGLJVKHCGJDTIYRTUOLGJVMCGJDTURIYTUGJVHCGJXDUE*R^(&T*YPIHJVBVNBMCGXJDTIR&OT*PYI:HKBV

SO incredibly not ready for their divorce

"She didn't care, she didn't feel the need to care" It is very hard to care about and put constant and/or consistent effort (physical and emotional) into a system when no matter what, nothing comes out the other side or pays off. It is a lot easier to "rise above it" than to keep going

Obsessed with Frances' mum being actively happy and supportive of Francis spending less time on her school work and focusing on something she is passionate about - out here doing better than most

CAROL LAST WHEN I CATCH YOU WHEN I CATCH YOU CAROL

The immediate, not even attempted subtlety on Aled's change when his mum shows up AHHHH

The Allie nick name will never not make my brain buzz

Also love how willing Aled is to talk about how he hates his mum, there's no sugar coating it or anything, he is ready to say what he believes and I'm kinda obsessed with it

Also how he says he wants to keep his mum/family life and Frances separate - he seems to do this a lot, keeping all the different aspects of his life away from each other

THE GENDER OF ALED

February Friday is a crazy concept and makes me disgustingly emotional

The cosmic noise episode specifically CRAZY COO COO AAHH INSAME KMSGUIHOKLKHVGIUYOIJKB

I do love Raine constantly making the effort with Frances

CARYS THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOu

Aled getting 4 A stars at a-level is CRAZYYYY

Frances is so autistic specifically for looking at relationships through friendship bars in the sims

Daniel Jun knows extensive Bruno Mars Trivia because he is a homosexual and Bruno Mars is hot thank you

With all the issues Dan is having with Aled right now he still left to go and ask Frances to come over because Aled mentioned it would be nice gaaa - this is the first time in a significant while he is having any time to spend with Aled and STILL gets Frances, Better man than me at this rate

I am soooooooooooooooooo not ready for the creator outing =, that's where I stopped my reread last time because I felt sick with anxiety even knowing what would happen

Didn't realise before but Dan was probably born in Korea ("How about we give you a real English name, huh? we live in England now and you're an English boy")

The bonding between Daniel and Frances can eb SO PERSONAL to a person

"You've got so much more power than you think you do, [...] But you just waste it. You just do whatever anyone else says" AND SHE WAS CORRECT

Aled just wanting to be special is SO UFTYGIUHJFYUT&YOIHJK

I THINK YOUR EXXACTLY AND MY EXACTLY ARE DIFFERENT EXACTLYYS

[tedwardremus]

I feel like Ron fans really want him to be an Auror for the rest of his life like Harry is because its a "cool" job but it makes perfect sense he stops after 2 years? He is canonically lazy. That is not projection. That is not bashing. That is how he IS. He is lazy. Why would he want such a work intensive, difficult, and stressful job long-term? I really think the glory would wear off fast once you realized you can't even talk about what you are doing, you have to work overtime, you can get injured, you deal with constant stress, and for what? A basic pension. You don't even get rich off of it. Ron at the joke shop suits his character SO much.

oomph

Okay, Anon. I love you, and this is a safe space for people to discuss their controversial opinions with no judgement but I will have to push back a bit because I am a member of Team Ron Defense Squad.

I agree that being an auror wasn't the perfect fit for Ron, but I disagree with his laziness.

He was lazy when it came to school work. But a lot of kids are? That's hardly unique for a teenager. School didn't really interest him. But he was bright enough to do well in all his subjects (well, except history and divination, but those were joke classes) so he didn't really feel the need to work harder.

But in the things that he was interested in? The boy was not lazy.

You don't become the best chess player Hogwarts has ever seen at age 12 when you are lazy. That is years of hard work and skill development (prodigy level!). He probably spent hours at the Burrow as a kid studying chess moves and learning to see the board. That's not lazy.

You don't become a prefect by being lazy.

He also went off by himself and practiced quidditch so he could make the house team. That's not lazy. Thats determination (and a little insecurity because he was afraid of beign mocked for putting effort in or being told he wasn't good enough)

Which is totally relatable. Have you ever been afraid of failing or being compared to someone who, in your mind, has already mastered the skill you are practicing, so in the end, you didn't really try? because not trying is better than failing? That's not lazy, that's being insecure and anxious.

Ron is also with HArry on all his adventures. Going into the forbidden forest, starting an underground defense club, solving mysteries, fighting in the Ministry. This isn't lazy.

One of Ron's number one traits is his caregiving. Offering tea, the easy way in which he assures people, making sure Harry eats. Caregiving is not lazy. It takes attention to detail, emotional intelligence, and a lot of follow-up and determination.

I think Ron retired from ebing an auror early for several reasons.

1.) The job was finished. They caught the death eaters, the trials were over, he had some breathing room, and he realised that he could move on. That it was a job he felt he had to do but didn't really enjoy doing

2.) He saw that Harry really did enjoy it and that Harry didn't need a caregiver anymore, he wa an adult who could take care of himself and had Ginny at home to also care for him.

3.) Hermione, the ultimate girl boss that she is, clearly has ambitions and was career driven. Ron wanted to make sure she wasn't burnt out and that she had someone at home to take care of her (and their future children). Ron is the ultimate wife guy and I love him leaning into the role hard and with vigour.

caregiving and homemaking aren't laziness, and seeing a traditional feminine role as lazy in the body of a male character is sexist.

4.) I love Ron and the twins relationship. They are very close, even if the Twins mocking him crosses the line. And I can see Ron caring for George after the war in his very Ron-like way. Stopping by after an auror shift to help clean the shop and make sure he ate that day. Takes him to the pub for a pint, where they don't talk, but Ron just wants George to know he is there for him.

Over time, Ron learns that he loves working at the shop. He is good at it. And Geroge loves Ron being there, and he needs the help. George wants to be creative and invent things, and Ron has a great mind for business. He is using his logic skills to improve their business strategy and expand operations. He is good at balancing books and making sure bills get paid (oh no! It Looks like he enjoys a bit of homework after all!)

And Ron loves greeting customers and talking to kids in the shop. Being friendly and a bit goofy and his warm and comforting self.

He doesn't need fame and fortune because he is secure in his role as a caregiver, it is his ultimate strength. He has matured and moved on from his childhood insecurities. He is no longer in the shadow of his large loud family.

He is Ron. And he is enough (kenough)

[silverskye13]

One of them is deathly injured/unconscious and desperately needs help (Although, I think that happens in canon)

This does happen in canon! But we can always make it happen again.

Tanguish lost time. He knows he lost time, because it's sunset now. He can see it through the gap in the buildings in the shopping district.

He miscalculated. It happens sometimes. More often in places he's not familiar. But he loves rooftop running, and the Hermits have such an interesting, infinite combination of odd nooks and crannies in their builds. The shopping district is a rare playground. A rare, deadly, playground. He'd leaped, he'd, however briefly, flown. It had been beautiful. It had been intoxicating. It had felt like whatever Icarus must've felt when the sun called him into heaven.

And, probably, it also felt like whatever Icarus felt when he fell too.

There was a weightless moment where he realized he'd misjudged his leap. A weightless moment where all he saw was broad horizon, and the wide open blue sky, and he felt the cool wind in his hair and on his skin. Then the weightless feeling of falling. The blind knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it.

And then there was the ground.

He awoke to a caged sliver of sunset between two tall nonsense buildings. One of them was running a machine. He could hear it through the vibrations it made in the wall. Or maybe he was shaking. It was hard to tell. It was hard to tell anything. He knew only he was injured badly, in the distant way that any dying thing knows injury happened to make it this way.

Tanguish lost consciousness. Tanguish lost time.

His vision, even while he lay still, twisted and pitched. His breathing wasn't right; quick, hiccupping gasps that pained him to make and didn't bring enough air. There were parts of himself he couldn't fathom, even more parts he couldn't feel, and the parts he could ached in a bone-deep and broken way. Even his pulse hurt, thudding against every bit of skin pressed to the earth. There was a smear of red just in his peripheral vision. Blood on the ground.

Tanguish was surprised he'd awoken, being so injured. He didn't think he would be awake for long. There was an ebbing darkness around his vision, and an unresponsiveness in his limbs. A finger twitched and he felt every nerve in his arm catch fire in response. He willed himself to move, or to call for help, or to do anything besides lay on the ground.

The sunset reminded him of hels. The clouds changing colors in the orange and red above could be vented smoke. The single pinhole star in the sky could not. There was something lonely about being hurt so far from home. He was a detached limb in the world somewhere.

Tanguish closed his eyes.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter five

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I won't lie, I love this chapter, especially because it shows one of my favorite things about this reader very clearly--the fact that she only has one braincell. She's been surprisingly fun to write, even with all of the angst!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

The doors opened with a noise so loud she winced. 

When she looked up, she was face to face with a gun.

Y/n was afraid in a distant sort of way. It was, sadly, not the first time she’d been held at gunpoint pursuing a story. But the first time had been with a wire under her shirt and a whole bunch of cops around the corner. 

This time, she was alone. 

And the man on the other end of the gun was a cop. 

“Shit,” Lieutenant Gordon said and, mercy of all mercies, put away his weapon. “What are you doing here?” 

For some reason, the disappearance of the gun kicked the fear up a notch. Her heart suddenly tried to take flight. She took a deep breath, dizzy now, and managed to say, “Got a second for that interview?” Her voice was too high. Probably not the best time to crack a joke, but she obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Behind Gordon was a shadow. 

No, a man. 

The Batman. 

His mouth was slightly parted, what she could see of his face…almost shocked. 

“You two look awfully surprised to see that someone followed you. The blindingly bright light wasn’t very hard to find.” She should shut up, she thought distantly. She still wasn’t sure if they could be trusted. But the fear was ebbing away, slowly but surely. 

Gordon pinched between his eyes, the movement pushing his glasses up to his forehead. 

“There’s a locked gate that requires a code. There’s barbed wire.” He sounded like Alfred when she and Bruce had gotten into something they were told not to touch or do as kids. Tired dad voice, they called it, snickering behind his back. 

She hooked her thumb in Batman’s direction. He still stood absolutely still, cape blowing in the breeze, his mouth closed now. “Followed this guy in.” 

Gordon looked over at the vigilante. “This is the girl you–” 

“I remember,” Batman said in that voice of gravel and smoke. It sent a thrill of fear through her. Actually, his voice was kind of sexy, now that she was thinking about it. 

She was losing her mind. She had barely slept in a week and she was losing her mind. She was with two men she wasn’t sure if she could trust, on top of an abandoned building where it would be very easy to kill her, and she was thinking of sexy voices. Well, one sexy voice in particular. No offense to Gordon, she thought wryly. 

“I’m also, um…a journalist.” This was directed at the vigilante. In her experience, honesty opened up more doors than it shut. She was usually pretty good at figuring out when to lie, particularly about her profession, and when to tell the truth. Or when to split the difference. She trusted her gut more often than not, and right now, she was relatively at ease. “Couldn’t help it, sorry.” 

“So you just…” Gordon waved a hand vaguely. 

“Followed the light? Yeah. I just hope it doesn’t lead to death like it usually does.” God, she needed to stop cracking jokes. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. “So if you’re going to murder me, can I please at least get a good quote first?” 

“This concerns her anyway,” Batman said, shocking her so much that she nearly toppled over the edge of the tower. And–oh shit, the tower was really tall and had absolutely no walls or rails or anything to protect her from the drop. She took a shaky step back towards the elevator, but it had returned down below. Heights had never been her friend. An irony, Bruce liked to point out, because she lived in a tower. Then that would almost always start an argument about what “irony” meant. 

“Are you sure?” Gordon said. The wind whistling in her ears made it hard to hear. She hoped the question wasn’t Are you sure we shouldn’t kill her? and was instead simply Are you sure we’re going to trust her? 

“We can always throw her over,” he said. There was something almost familiar about his voice, she realized, but then the words caught up to her. 

She gulped, dizzy again, but Gordon did a double take. “Did you just make a joke, man?” 

The Batman gave no indication that it had been a joke. She gripped the pepper spray tighter. Not that it would help her if she got tossed over the side, but it made her feel a little better. 

“He’s kidding, don’t worry. Tell her you’re kidding, she looks ready to puke.” Gordon crossed his arms, clearly not intimidated in the least by the hulking figure of the vigilante. 

“I’m kidding,” the Batman said with a cutting glance towards Gordon. “I don’t kill people.” 

She squinted at him, unable to clearly see him in the darkness. She really couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. She guessed he had to have at least some sense of humor about all of this. He was dressed as a fucking bat, after all. 

She decided to trust them. “Okay, which means I’ll be really upset if you make an exception for me. I’ll haunt your ass. Yours too, Gordon, because supposedly you’re the only cop who isn’t corrupt in this city.” She crossed her arms and shivered. As long as she ignored the sheer drop surrounding her on three sides, she’d be fine. “Though I’m not convinced yet. I’ve been gone from Gotham for too long.” 

“The force has changed a lot in a year.” Another look exchanged with the vigilante. “But I understand the sentiment.” 

Y/n glanced around, keeping her eyes on the view instead of the drop. “So no one else has ever followed you up here?” she asked curiously. She saw what she was pretty sure was a spotlight on the far side of the platform. “Because seriously, the light is a dead giveaway.” 

“His girlfriend did once,” Gordon said, and he smiled. “But no one else.” 

“Wasn’t my girlfriend,” the Batman mumbled. Mumbled. He was suddenly less scary when he sounded like any surly man denying any attachment to a woman. 

Her ears perked up. “Oh? She got a name?” 

They both gave her looks that said they knew exactly what she was up to. She shrugged, the perfect picture of innocence. It was worth a shot. 

She changed tactics. “You said this concerns me. What does?” 

“The murders you witnessed,” Gordon said. “We found ties to the Gallo family. I was coming to fill him in.” 

“The Gallo family,” she repeated. She knew this already, but better to play at ignorance in case they gave her more information. That and it hadn’t been confirmed by someone who was on the investigation team. “The mobsters in New York?” 

“The very same.” 

“Was the one who got away one of them?” she asked. Because that would be bad. Very bad. 

“We didn’t get any information out of the other three. One…committed suicide not too long ago, actually. Part of why I’m here.” Gordon sighed. “Getting rid of Falcone created a vacuum. The Gallos are just the first ones powerful enough to fill the space.” 

Falcone. She knew the name. Knew the story. Knew he’d been responsible for the deaths of Bruce’s parents. That was one death she hadn’t begrudged the Riddler–at least Thomas and Martha had gotten justice, in the end. 

The Batman turned and looked over the city. His figure cut a dark shadow across the city skyline. “Any ideas where to start looking?” 

“So you can bust some heads?” Gordon said. He was smiling. Y/n looked between them. It was fascinating. They were obviously close but this only confirmed it. She itched to take notes but she didn’t want either of them to snatch her phone. Damn, she should have set it to record when she was in the elevator. Gordon continued, “But no. We’re coming up empty so far. None of the typical informants have heard anything about the Gallo family. As far as we know, none of them are actually in the city. If they are, they’re laying low.” 

“Could you identify them again?” Batman asked. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he faced her again. She noticed he hadn’t come any closer to her, unlike Gordon who was only a couple of feet away. Instead he was near the edge, about as far away from them as he could get. Was it to make her feel better, safer? 

“Maybe, with the help of the video.” She knew eyewitness testimonies were shaky at best. And the more traumatic the event, the more unreliable the testimony could be. But a video helped and would do wonders in court. “What does this mean for me?” she asked. “Am I supposed to stay locked up forever, afraid to go out in case there’s a mob hit on me? Or even just a regular murderer trying to take out a witness? Because both of those are kind of shitty.” 

“Yes,” Batman said at the exact same time Gordon said, “Probably.” 

Her heart sank. 

“We’ve been protecting your identity as best we can,” Gordon said in a sure tone that again made her think of Alfred. She wondered if Gordon had kids. “But we can’t be sure there isn’t a leak in the department. We’re still plugging all the holes left behind from Falcone.” 

She winced. “Okay, I’ve done two bad things so far.” The Batman crossed his arms. Gordon motioned for her to continue. “First, I may or may not have been loaned out to the Tribune on special assignment to report on my own case. So the editor definitely knows my identity. And I also may or may not have reached out to a GCPD officer to be a source.” 

She heard the Batman sigh even over the noise of the wind. Gordon was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Their response made her feel like a little kid getting in trouble and it made her bristle. She bit her tongue to keep from immediately defending herself. 

“Which officer?” Gordon asked and his tone told her all she needed to know. He didn’t trust some of his fellow cops, if any. 

“He hasn’t even agreed to be a source yet, and besides I have the right to protect–” 

“Which officer?” Batman cut in, the sharp growl of his voice startling her. 

The sound of it made her spit it out. “Martinez.” 

Both men visibly relaxed. “Martinez is solid. There’s a reason I brought him with me to get your statement,” Gordon said. “We can trust him.”

“Okay, good. That’s good. See? I’m not a total idiot.” She relaxed marginally. 

“Maybe you’re just lucky,” Batman said. 

She laughed humorlessly. “Lucky? Well, buddy, you know what I was doing the same day I witnessed a fucking mob hit? Burying my mother and grandmother. And don’t even get me started on the rest of my personal life right now.” 

“He didn’t mean it,” Gordon said with a sharp look. “His humor takes some getting used to.” 

Batman mumbled something under his breath again that sounded a lot like I can talk for myself. But he didn’t actually butt in. 

“Okay, whatever. What can I do? I don’t want to be killed, obviously, and I don’t particularly like the idea of being locked in an ivory tower either, nice as it is.” What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t sure she could handle being locked in Wayne Tower with Bruce Wayne. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t be reminded of how close they used to be and the distance between them now. And all of that on top of the immense grief she experienced at unpredictable times. She never knew when she’d be reminded of her grandmother and subsequently that she was gone. Around every corner, through every doorway, was the potential for a punch to the gut when she remembered her grandmother was dead. 

“What can you do? Stop sneaking into construction sites at night, for one,” Gordon said with a soft snort. “But any information, anything, you come up with while working on this story, send it to me, too. And we’ll work with you on identifying that fourth suspect.” 

“You aren’t going to tell me to stop investigating?” 

It was the Batman who answered. “Would you actually stop?” His voice was rough on her skin, giving her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold or the fear of heights. 

She shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t want to die, either.” 

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said. He took a step forward. She noticed how broad his shoulders were, how sharp his jaw was, how his gloved hands were clenched into fists at his side. She really, really should have found a way to sneakily record everything. She was probably closer to the Batman than most people had ever been. 

She swallowed. “Don’t worry, Wayne Tower’s plenty secure.” 

“Still. I’ll be around.”

“That sounds a lot like stalking.” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I promise I won’t peek in your windows.” A twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“That sounded a lot like another bad joke,” she said. But she smiled.  

“Let me drive you home,” Gordon interrupted. He was glancing back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. She wanted to protest, but she doubted her luck had held long enough for her to be able to get a taxi back home. 

“What, that’s it? Two whole pieces of information and you go home? You guys don’t text or anything?” She crossed her arm. She really hadn’t gotten any more information that she didn’t have–except for the suicide of one of the suspects. If it even was a suicide. “This meeting could have been an email.” 

“Never know who’s listening,” Gordon said. He tilted his head towards the vigilante. “Besides, he’s paranoid. Only calls if he needs something. Hates texting.” 

She eyed the man in question. If he hated texting, maybe he wasn’t as young as she thought. Then again, Bruce hated texting too, old man at heart that he was. But he was the exception, not the rule. 

“I’d really appreciate it if you two kept me in the loop too. Quid pro quo,” she said. 

“For your article?” Batman asked. There was a certain edge to his words that made her think he didn’t like reporters. And really, it made sense. If she was trying to keep her identity a secret, she wouldn’t like reporters either. They were a chronically nosy bunch even when they weren’t working on a story. 

“For my life. If I survive this, yeah I’m going to write a hell of an article. But I kind of have to be alive to write it, don’t I?” She crossed her arms again and stared him down. 

“Quid pro quo,” Gordon said. “As long as you two agree to play nice.” He chuckled, like it was part of a joke. 

“Keeping her alive is nice,” Batman said. Another joke? Every interaction between him and Gordon solidified the fact that they got along well and were around each other often. No way Gordon didn’t know the guy’s real identity. But if they were as close as she suspected and if Gordon was as honorable as everyone said…no way was he going to let any hints slip. 

Her mind spun as the two men talked quietly about off the clock watches of Wayne Manor. She now had two very reliable sources for her article–if they really did keep her in the loop–and a new certainty that an op-ed for the Batman was in her future. She doubted any reporters in Gotham had spent as much time with the vigilante as she already had. Her veins thrummed with that inner fire. 

She might be able to expose a mob conspiracy and the Batman’s identity in one fell swoop. 

It was all she could think of as Gordon drove her home.

Next Chapter

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[prythiansprincess]

mariposa.

i just need a quick fix, i ain't gonna miss this we've already crossed that line before, i won't get addicted tell me lies girl say it softly, you'll be sayin take it off me

author's note: you guys know how much i adore lucien. i'm absolutely unwell just thinking about our overprotective, feisty fox boy. there's also a surprise guest appearance that i think ya'll will appreciate 😏 song inspiration: lacrimosa by matt kent.

The rhythmic pounding of hollow drums echoed throughout the spring manor, its seductive beat beckoning you to come outside and join in on the festivities. Your gaze flickered to the shimmering lock placed on your bedroom door as Tamlin’s warning echoed in the dark and empty bedchamber. 

Stay in your room.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Who the hell was he to tell you what to do? Tamlin may be the High Lord of the Spring Court, but it didn’t grant him the right to forbid you from attending Calanmai. Especially not after you spent the whole day being paraded around the countless lords seeking your hand in marriage only to then be tucked away when your presence was no longer convenient.

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

With a wicked grin, you pulled a rhinestone pin out of your hair and knelt in front of the door. You whispered an incantation and the pin glowed brightly as you rattled it against the lock. With a flick of your wrist, the door propped open. You peered out into the hallway and confirmed that the coast was clear before carefully creeping through the quiet house. 

The spring manor was empty for the night. There wasn’t a single servant present to stop you from making your way downstairs. They were all probably at Calanmai already, dancing and drinking and doing all the things that Tamlin had barred you from doing. He already had the Great Rite to worry about, your brother had said. The High Lord didn’t need his troublesome little sister getting in the way of his duties. 

You would make him regret it. 

The thought put a spring in your step as you strolled through the gardens, taking in the balmy evening and the cool spring breeze. First thing was first, you needed to conceal your identity if you hoped to avoid being spotted by your brother or any of his cronies. With a wisp of magic, conjured an intricate golden mask, its ornate swirls and whorls fanning out into deep yellows and oranges as white spots dotted the edges of the black borders and veins. The accessory matched your copper dress perfectly. As you placed the mask over your eyes, the wings flickered and mimicked the graceful movements of a monarch butterfly.

Donning a satisfied smile, you crossed the clearing that would lead you to the festivities. Your skirts whispered against the earth as you winnowed atop the hill at the edge of the manor. Down below, you watched as High Fae and faeries alike danced around the fires lighting up the lush landscape. 

The savage beat of the drums summoned you across the grassy knoll and you gladly surrendered to its call. Smoke curled through the air and enveloped you in its intoxicating haze as you reached the heart of the crowd. Someone grabbed you by the waist, dragging you into the throng of dancing bodies circling the large bonfire burning at the center of the field. 

There was something magnetic about the movements, a ritual awakening deep within your bones as magic unfurled its golden glow through your entire being. You tipped your head back and laughed, twirling in dizzying circles as you changed partners again and again. One of them—a handsome dryad—handed you a goblet filled with a golden, sparkling liquid. 

The drink was unlike anything you’ve ever tasted before. You could feel the edges of your vision blurring, every thought and worry ebbing and flowing through your mind, and your surroundings turned fuzzy as though someone had placed a lace veil over your eyes. The carefree feeling it brought was delicious and addicting so you drained the drink down to its last drop, greedily licking the sparkling remnants off your lips. 

The dryad you were currently dancing with twirled you across the field and you clumsily stumbled across the soft grass before a pair of strong arms steadied you. 

You looked up to thank the stranger, but the words died in your throat as soon as you beheld the male standing before you. He was the embodiment of sensuality and seduction with raven hair as dark as night and golden brown skin gleaming against the backdrop of the burning bonfire, the flames mimicking the intricate tattoos peeking out above his perfectly fitted tunic. Fine clothing adorned his body, its deep ebony color matching the shimmer of darkness that seemed to waft through his shoulders like the night sky. 

But it was his eyes—those deep violet eyes that shimmered with amusement that seemed to set off your internal alarm. Danger lurked behind that amethyst gaze.

“Be careful, little butterfly.” A voice as smooth as velvet drawled. “We wouldn’t want you flying away now, do we?” 

With feline grace, the male placed one hand on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder as he swept you across the crowd. This dance wasn’t like the wild, jovial traditional dance of the Spring Court. It was smooth and steady, every twist and turn performed with calculated precision. A lethal waltz with an equally lethal partner. 

The stranger spun you around and the silks of your skirts hugged his dark trousers as he reeled you back into his arms. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” the handsome male purred. “Where has the High Lord been hiding a treasure like yourself, my lady?” 

You swallowed thickly. The music and laughter echoed all around you, but they sounded slow and distorted as though your mind had been dipped in a jar of honey. Faces blurred in your periphery and dragged across the forefront of your consciousness like molasses, there and gone with the blink of an eye. It took a considerable amount of effort to bring your focus back to the stranger.

“I’m new to the Spring Court.” 

It wasn’t technically a lie, given that you’d only just made your formal debut a week ago. The stranger raised a brow, but if he had any qualms regarding your statement, he didn’t voice them. 

“Allow me to extend the warmest of welcomes, then.” He took a gloved hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles, mischief sparkling in those star kissed eyes. “My name is Rhysand.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhysand,” you said with a shy smile. “I’m—”

“Spoken for,” said a voice from behind you. 

A figure emerged from the trees, tall and lean and all too familiar. A flash of scarlet glimmered in the night as Lucien came into view. 

Of all people, it had to be your brother’s best friend catching you sneaking out of the manor and dancing with the most beautiful male you’ve ever laid eyes on. Still, there was the matter of the stupid little prattling of your heart as you turned to face the handsome red headed male.

Despite the increasing effects of that damned faerie wine, the sight of Lucien never failed to take your breath away. 

As befitting an emissary, he was dressed in fine clothing of a deep, rich green that accentuated the crimson locks flowing behind his back. Intricate braids crowned his head as soft tendrils kissed the planes of his elegant face. His sparkling amber and golden mechanical eye affixed on you. A heated spark flashed through his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher its meaning. 

You’ve fancied Lucien for as long as you could remember. At first, it had been a harmless little thing. You were so young when you first met and he’d always had that older, mysterious allure made even more enticing by the fact that Lucien was forbidden fruit. He was Tamlin’s best friend and constant companion and you were the younger sister with an innocent crush.

But now that you were both fully grown, the tension between you and Lucien was anything but.

“Calanmai is for invited guests only,” Lucien said sharply, his shoulders tensing. "And the last time I checked, you weren't on the list."

A lazy smile tugged on Rhysand’s lips. “Now, now, Lucien. Is that any way for an emissary to address a High Lord?” That violet gaze winked down at you. “Especially not in the presence of a beautiful maiden.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “The lady is spoken for.”

Now that was interesting. Lucien could’ve easily identified you as Tamlin’s sister, but he chose not to. Perhaps he didn’t want word of your escape to reach your brother.

“Stunning creatures, butterflies.” Rhysand said with a knowing smile, reaching out to caress your mask. Lucien bristled, but the High Lord of the Night Court only smirked seductively. “Though I’ve found that they tend to get restless if not properly stimulated.” 

Lucien angled himself between you and the handsome stranger. “My lady has had enough excitement for one night.” 

You frowned, glaring at your friend’s back. You wanted to dance and laugh and drink until dawn. You wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the music in your chest, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body and making you relaxed and pliant, but as Lucien pinned his gaze on you, the fear and concern swimming in his eyes kept you from speaking.

“It’s time to escort you back to the manor,” Lucien announced with finality. He spoke into the smoky night, not once looking at you. An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it as your friend's fists clenched at his side.

Violet eyes met your own as Rhysand dipped into a bow. He kissed your hand once more, making you blush fiercely. “Until we meet again, little butterfly.”

You watched as the male sauntered away, but not before winking back at you with a sultry grin. 

Without a word, Lucien grabbed your wrist and winnowed into thin air. The sudden transition was jarring and you barely had time to gather your wits before you were being ushered through the doors of the manor. The black and white chequered marble floors blurred beneath your feet as you and Lucien passed through like a furious wind, his deep auburn hair nearly whipping against your cheek as he stomped up the sweeping staircase. 

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t speak as he threw the door open and watched you walk through the threshold. Alone in your bedchambers, Lucien whirled around with barely contained rage coloring his handsome face. 

“Are you fucking insane?” The Autumn Court male finally spoke as you plopped down on the bed, the aftereffects of all the dancing and drinking weighing heavy on your body. “Do you know how utterly idiotic it was to venture out alone? On Calanmai, of all nights! You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not Tamlin.”

“And dancing with Rhysand—Rhysand of all fucking people!”

“At least he bothered to talk to me!” you yelled, voice hoarse and strained. “All you and Tamlin ever do is lock me in here like I’m some child that needs to be constantly coddled.” 

“Could you blame us?” he said harshly. “One night on your own and you managed to attract the attention of the most dangerous male in all of Prythian. Rhysand may have flashed you pretty smiles and flowery words, but it doesn’t change the beast that lurks within. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. He could have ripped your mind apart without lifting a single finger.”

You blanched at the realization. “I—I didn’t know.”

“That’s precisely the point,” your friend snapped. “You jump into things headfirst without any regard for your safety.” Lucien released a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “If anything happened to you…”

The worry dancing in his eyes momentarily sobered you. Enough for you to take his hand and squeeze in reassurance. “I’m fine, Lucien. Rhysand didn’t do anything to me. We just danced, that’s all.”

His grip tightened around your wrist. “He made you smile. Made you laugh. And he called you little butterfly,” Lucien said the last word softly, but it laid heavy between you. 

“It was because of the mask—”

A burning fire raged within Lucien. “I don’t give a damn why. He doesn’t have the right.” He titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Only I get to call you that, mariposa.”

You whimpered at the gruffness of his voice. Mariposa was Lucien's nickname for you and he usually said it with soft fondness, but the there was nothing gentle about the way he was wielding it now.

There was a part of you that knew Lucien was angry. His words echoed, but they didn’t fully register and were instead swallowed up by the haze clouding your mind. The only thing you could focus on was how badly the room was spinning and how your internal temperature seemed to spike higher and higher as Lucien pulled back to pace in front of the crackling hearth.

Heat blossomed in your core and snaked its fiery tendrils throughout your body, making you feel flushed and overheated. Your skin felt too hot and your dress too suffocating as you crumpled into a nearby chair. You hadn’t even noticed that your hands were shaking until you haphazardly wiped the sweat off of your brow. 

“Y/N?” Lucien’s voice sounded hollow and distant even though he was kneeling right beside you. You blinked, murmuring softly as he took your face in his hands. Gone was the wrath and fury from earlier, replaced now by worry and concern. “You’re burning up.”

His mechanical eye focused on the golden flecks covering your mouth. Lucien cursed lowly as he wiped his thumb across your bottom lip. The action made you shiver and you involuntarily leaned into his touch, his warmth, his scent. It felt good, so good, to have him touching you. 

“Did the High Lord give you anything to drink?” Lucien tilted your chin and you groaned, lashes fluttering against your cheek as his rough, calloused hands brushed against your skin. “Think, Y/N. I need you to answer me, sweetheart.”

You blinked, recalling the goblet of wine. “No, no, it wasn’t Rhys. It was another male. A dryad. Your fingers brushed against the flecks on your mouth and you furrowed your brows in confusion at Lucien’s deep frown. “He gave me some wine. It was gold and sweet.”

“That bloody bastard.” Your friend’s tone was sharp and biting, anger rippling through him in waves. 

“Why?” you asked as spots blurred your vision. “I feel fuzzy and warm and it’s so godsdamned stuffy in this room. What’s happening to me, Lucien?”

“You drank Amortis,” Lucien explained. 

The mention of the potion sent a course of panic through you, but it was swallowed up again by the flame of desire burning hotter and hotter underneath your friend’s intense gaze. Somewhere in the abscesses of your brain, you knew that this was bad. 

Amortis was an aphrodisiac used as an aid during the mating rituals of Calanmai. You vaguely recalled learning about it during your lessons about the Great Rite, but you’d been too drunk on faerie wine and music for the significance of the drink to register.

“The dryad must have slipped it into your wine when you weren’t looking.” His expression darkened, a snarl rippling through his chest. “I’m going to rip him apart bit by bit. Tamlin can have what’s left.”

His eyes widened. “Oh gods, I have to tell Tam.”

You shook your head and tugged at his wrist. “No,” you pleaded. If Tamlin heard about any of this, he’d never let you out of his sight again. “Please don’t tell my brother, Lu.” 

Lucien softened at your given nickname for him. Try as he might, the Autumn Court male couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for you. Having known you your entire life, he was just as protective over you as Tamlin was. Growing up with brothers, he hadn’t been prepared for the antics and schemes that you always seemed to get yourself into. You were trouble personified and you had him completely wrapped around your finger. 

Always have, always will.  

So he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine,” Lucien conceded. “But we have to do something. You’re burning up.” 

“A shower,” you suggested. “I need a cold shower.”

Your friend helped you onto your feet and escorted you into the large bathroom attached to your bedchambers. The marble tiled shower hissed and groaned as Lucien eased the handles. Mist fogged up the mirror and you leaned against the countertop, wriggling out of your shoes. 

The effects of the potion reached its peak and took full control of your body. Every sensation felt intensified as you doubled over in pain. You nearly ripped the dress off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your lace underclothes as you stepped into the cold shower. 

Curled up into a fetal position, you hugged your knees to your chest and allowed the freezing water to cool your body temperature. Lucien knelt down beside you and wrapped an arm against your shoulder, stroking your hair and murmuring words of comfort. 

The warmth of the Autumn Court male enveloped you in cinnamon and sunshine. Whether it was the Amortis or your natural attraction to Lucien, you found yourself leaning in closer and nuzzling into his neck. His grip on your shoulder tightened as your lips brushed against his skin. 

“Y/N.” 

A fiery tendril curled around your finger as you looked up and met Lucien’s gaze. Water fell in rapid droplets, soaking through his white shirt and clinging onto his golden-brown skin. You traced the scar above his brow and his eyes fluttered close in response. Lucien’s ragged breathing filled the room as you traced the elegant planes of his face, your thumb brushing against his lips. They looked so lush and inviting, you wanted nothing more than to lean in and take a bite. 

You tilted your chin up, nuzzling your nose against his. An inch closer and his lips would be on yours. Lucien's lashes kissed your cheek as his eyes fluttered open. Meeting his burning gaze was like looking directly at the sun.

“I want to kiss you,” you whispered. 

A flash of something dark and dangerous glimmered in Lucien’s hypnotic stare before he clamped down on your wrist. For a second, you could see the conflict raging within him. He wanted this as much as you did. All he needed to do was give in. The shower above you hissed and Lucien blinked, snapping out of whatever moment the two of you had been in the midst of.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “It’s just the effects of Amortis.” 

“Amortis lowers your inhibitions,” you countered. “But it doesn’t alter your desires, which means I’d want to kiss you even if I were sober.”

Lucien gently removed your hand from his face and set it on your lap. “Maybe so,” he mused before reaching up to turn the shower handle. “But I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Not like this.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Why? Because I’m Tamlin’s pesky little sister who’s had an embarrassing crush on you for centuries?” 

The redhead pinned you against the tiled wall, his stare burning holes into your skin. “Because I care about you. Because the first time I kiss you won’t be because you accidentally consumed an aphrodisiac.” He braced his palms on either side of your head and you swallowed at how much he towered over you, how easily he caged you in. “When I finally kiss you, mariposa, it won’t just be a kiss. It’ll be everything and there’ll be no going back from it. So I need you to be sure.” 

A shiver crawled up your spine. “I am sure,” you said softly. “I’ve always been sure about you, Lucien.”

He smiled. A devastating sort of smile that sent sunlight into the cracks of your soul. “Then tell me in the morning, little butterfly.”

Dawn broke over the horizon as golden rays speared through the bruised sky. Someone had left the curtains in your bedchambers spread apart. Probably you. Or maybe it was Lucien. 

Lucien. 

Memories from the night before flooded your thoughts. After your embarrassing confession, Lucien had helped you get dressed and carried you to bed. You shot up in the large four poster bed, rustling the pillows and blankets that he’d carefully tucked you into. A glimpse of red snagged your attention and you found your friend sprawled across a velvet lounge chair, his long legs hanging over the edge. 

The sound of your shuffling roused the red haired male from sleep. He pitched forward, alarm spreading through his face when he found you staring at him. Lucien crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside your bed. He scanned your features, gently cradling your chin between his fingers. 

“I’m fine, Lu.” 

Relief washed over your friend. There was something endearing about the way he fretted over you. 

“Never scare me like that again,” Lucien said. 

You grinned. “I think that’s the last time I ever drink Amortis. Though I can’t promise to stay out of trouble.”

Lucien sighed deeply, running a hand through his fiery locks. “I’m serious, Y/N. In all of my immortal existence, I’ve never felt terror like I did when I saw you dancing with Rhysand.”

“Is the High Lord truly that horrifying?” 

“I wasn’t scared of him,” Lucien said. There was no bravado in the statement, just pure honesty as he fixed his gaze on you. “I was scared for him. Of what I wanted to do to him for simply breathing the same air as you.”

You swallowed thickly. “What you said last night…what I said last night. I meant it, Lucien.” 

Lucien went still as death, his mechanical eye whirring to life as he scanned over you. Checking for any traces of Amortis. Confirming that you weren’t still under its spell. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caressed his cheek. 

“I’m not under any spell,” you whispered softly. “What I feel, it’s real. I wanted to kiss you last night and I still want to kiss you this morning. I’m sure, Lucien.” 

His slender fingers curled gently around your wrist, his breathing low and ragged as he brought his gaze up to you. There was something primal and possessive in those eyes. 

“I won’t insult you by attempting to describe how I feel about you in words,” he declared, his voice like honeyed wine ebbing through your very core. “I’ll just show you instead.”

Lucien’s slender fingers curled through your unbound hair, tilting your head at just the right angle before he gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss ignited a fire within your core. It was soft and sweet yet demanding and possessive. You could tell that Lucien was barely restraining himself by the way his breath hitched as your lips met. 

You melted into his touch as he brought you closer, setting you on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. Centuries of curiosity was satisfied as you raked your fingers through his hair, the feel of it smooth and silky like you’d always imagined. Shy pecks turned into lingering heated kisses as you explored one another. Lucien groaned when you shifted your hips, greedily leaning down to taste more of him. 

He tugged you by the top of your thighs, placing you chest to chest. The sunlight streaming in from the window crowned him in glorious day, his auburn hair shining brightly like a living flame as though Lucien was the embodiment of fire itself. There was a wildness in him that drew you in like a moth to a flame. 

Lucien stroked your cheek tenderly as though he were convincing himself that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. His features softened as you took his hand and kissed his fingertips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “You put the flowers in this court to shame with the way you bloom.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, filling you with a wave of emotions. It was a rare occasion for you to be rendered speechless, but Lucien was more than capable of stunning you into complete silence. 

You pressed your lips against his in response, the kiss turning urgent as you poured all of the words you weren’t able to articulate into one single action. Lucien groaned as you gently tugged on his bottom lip. He teased his tongue past the seam of your lips and you gladly obliged, welcoming him in. 

There was no trace of his restraint from earlier as Lucien flipped you over, pinning you underneath him as he completely devoured you. It was in that moment that you realized that you’ve never been properly kissed. Because this…this paled in comparison to every other kiss you’ve ever had. 

It nearly knocked the breath out of you. From the way that Lucien’s chest was rising and falling, you weren’t the only one. As the kiss deepened, the desire to feel him, to truly feel him, became overwhelming. You tugged on the hem of his shirt and Lucien pulled away to allow you to pull it off of him. 

He toyed with the straps of the nightgown that he had helped you change into a few hours ago, a question in his expression. You merely nodded and shrugged out of the silky material. Lucien watched as you laid yourself bare before him, his fingers brushing against your delicate skin. 

You tugged at the front of his trousers and he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “Are you sure?” 

“I told you, Lucien.” You said, meeting his burning gaze. “I’ve always been sure about you. I want this. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he whispered. “More than anyone has ever wanted anything in this entire realm.” 

“So take me.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again but this time it was desperate and full of need. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every line and curve with devotion. Lucien kissed every surface of skin as though he were committing your body to memory. His fingers dipped low as he parted your legs, groaning when he found you wet and ready for him. 

You watched as he lined himself up at your entrance. Every move was filled with tenderness. Lucien teased the tip in, his gaze never leaving yours while he eased his cock inside of you. His length stretched you beyond your limit, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Once he filled you to the hilt, he paused. 

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of red hair from his cheek. “Never better.”

Your friend smiled before slowly pulling out, monitoring your reactions as he established a steady pace. By no means were you inexperienced, but as Lucien rolled his hips into yours, it felt like you’d been starved of touch your whole life. He seemed to echo the sentiment as awe and bewilderment took over his features. 

It had never felt like this with anyone else. 

The way he touched you was full of devotion as though your body was a temple and he was making his burnt offerings upon the altar. Lucien lavished you with worship, his large hands easing your leg up so he could angle himself deeper. You moaned as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Gods, Lucien.”

His forehead dropped to yours, eyes blazing with fire. You didn’t have to say the words. Lucien knew exactly what you meant. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I know, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breathing ragged. His muscles tensed underneath your fingertips as you raked your nails across his back. Lucien growled into your mouth as you dragged him down beside you, flipping positions so that you were perched on his lap. 

His skin glistened in the early morning light, beads of sweat glimmering like crystals along his perfectly sculpted torso. You braced your hands on his chest and rode him slowly, moving your hips back and forth while he watched through heavy lids. A large hand clamped down on your right hip hard enough to bruise, but you kept the steady rhythm as the male underneath you groaned. 

From this angle, the friction on your clit combined with Lucien’s upward thrusts unraveled that familiar feeling in your core. Lucien felt you clench around him and he sat upright, sucking harshly at your neck. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered gently. You closed your eyes, giving into the rush of sensations. “That’s it. I want to watch you come undone.”

The impact made your vision blur with white heat. For a split second, you felt as though you were floating above your body, watching as you writhed in pleasure. Lucien’s voice brought you back and you relished the way your name tumbled so prettily from his mouth, like the prayer of a devoted believer. He roared as he finished, his head lolling against the crook of your neck. 

At some point, his braids had come undone and you giggled as crimson locks tickled your cheek. Lucien lifted his head, observing you with a soft smile. Behind him, the sun reached its peak over the horizon and formed a golden crown upon his head. 

You propped an elbow up against your pillow, a small smile spreading across your lips as you admired the male beside you. 

Lucien grinned back, brushing his nose against your cheek. “What are you thinking about, mariposa?”

“I’m thinking that I should endanger myself more often if this is what it leads to.”

The redhead frowned, flicking your nose. “You do seem to have a special talent for attracting trouble.” 

You shrugged lazily. “I attract a lot of things. Including stubborn, possessive redheads.”

Lucien chuckled before pulling you into his chest. His arm snaked around your waist as he nuzzled against the back of your neck. 

“Falling for you is by far the most reckless thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered softly. You turned slightly, worry marking your features. Lucien smoothed the creases on your forehead. “But I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

You sighed in relief, melting back into his arms. Comfortable silence stretched between you as the reality of what you’d just done settled. Lucien was right. There was no going back from this. 

The spring manor came to life, voices filtering in and out as everyone started preparing for the day. You turned to fully face him, speaking the words that you were both thinking. 

“What are we gonna tell my brother, Lu?”

Lucien brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll tell him the truth. That this was inevitable. That nothing in this realm could’ve kept me away from you.”

“Are you sure about this?” Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. “About me?” 

“I am sure,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been sure about you.”

As he echoed your words from last night, you leaned in to kiss him. You were part thrilled, part terrified of whatever came next. 

But as long as Lucien was by your side, you were ready to face the dawn of a new day.

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[thewertsearch]

AG: I used to really like him and always wanted to help him get stronger, so that he might stand a fucking chance to actually make it on our world.

It's honestly tragic. You probably did like him initially - but, as a consequence of your worldview, your genuine attempts to make him stronger were warped into abuse. He was never going to internalize your lessons, because the manner in which you were delivering then were far too cruel to be effective.

AG: 8ut he was just soooooooo weak and indecisive. He wouldn't change!

Due to her cruelty, Vriska completely failed to impart the lessons that she was trying to - and, of course, she blames Tavros, for refusing to be bullied into changing.

The more he 'failed' her tests, the angrier she got. The angrier she got, the more deliberate her abuse became.

Until the cruelty was the point.

AG: And when he tried to change, it was too little and too l8. Always l8. L8ey L8ey L88888888. AG: Too l8 to kiss me. AG: Too l8 to kill me. AG: He couldn't do it when I really needed him to. So when I saw he was actually serious a8out trying to kill me now of all times… AG: I just got SO AAAAAAAANGRY.

Anyone with a brain could tell you Tavros isn't a killer. He's a gentle troll, and cold-blooded murder would traumatize him.

So Vriska trapped him in a situation where not murdering her would also traumatize him, and got angry when he chose the wrong trauma. This scenario was unwinnable by design, just like their last FLARP game.

Don’t kid yourself, Vriska. You were screwing Tavros around until the end.

AG: I know our races are completely different. And I really h8 the idea of you thinking worse of me 8ecause of this. AG: 8ut I don't have anyone else to talk to a8out it!

Holy hell, Vriska’s really going through it.

The worst part is, John is the only confidant she has. She's incredibly lucky he's as easygoing as he is.

EB: i bet karkat would listen. EB: or what about terezi? she's pretty nice, isn't she? […] AG: For one thing, they would pro8a8ly just 8e pissed off at me for killing Tavros. AG: And more importantly, there's no waaaaaaaay I could tell them how I really feel a8out it.

I think I'm starting to understand why Vriska's begun to change.

So far, Vriska's life has been very simple. She killed because she had to, and she's convinced herself that it's the only correct way to live. A brutal life makes you strong, after all, and a peaceful life is a burden.

Alternian culture validates this worldview, as every troll is expected to take part in the Empire's conquests. Her nation wouldn't want her to stop killing - it'd just want her to switch targets. According to the world around her, Vriska's way of life is correct. She's never been meaningfully challenged on her beliefs.

Until today.

Today, Vriska has been confronted by a species who don't want to kill. A species seemingly populated by wimps like Tavros, who all watch ridiculous movies and believe in lame nonsense like friendship.

A species of weaklings, who weren't blessed with an upbringing as violent as hers.

And a species that succeeds anyway.

I think humanity, and John in particular, have called into question some of the most fundamental truths of Vriska's existence.

And something inside her has just said ‘w8 a second........’

[homestuckreplay]

My First Social Interaction In 413 Years

(page 1040-1051)

THE AIMLESS RENEGADE SHOT AT WV AND PM. I’m furious over this. There will be no forgiveness. But it makes sense that since Jack Noir was recently introduced as a potential villain for the beta kids – certainly for John, as he’s imprisoning his dad – we are getting a villain for the future folks too.

I really like the nervousness between WV and PM (p.1044) which I’m sure could be interpreted as romantic, but I personally see it as the first motions towards truce between these two different sides of a war. This might be the first time either of them has interacted with someone from the other planet in a non-hostile way. They’ve also both been wandering the wasteland without meeting anyone else in person for potentially up to 413 years, so any social interaction is probably nervewracking under those conditions – it’s not like either of them were great at interacting with the kids. These first movements towards friendship between them are very sweet.

PM’s sword is back and so badass. I think real mail workers should also be allowed to carry a sword for self defense. I hope that worm with the mailbox in its jaws is gently holding it for PM and not about to take a chomp, otherwise it’s about to have a bad time.

Page 1041 is drawn in a full color, wide brush scribbly style that was also used on page 1007, but used here for a more landscapey page (plus Jade’s ‘==> cover!’) it looks like a hybrid between the cleaner future style and Jade’s note (p.1038), further blurring the boundaries between the present and the future, between Jade and WV. Although I’m not sure what the ‘<== hurry!’ is doing, as that seems directed to PM, who hasn’t looked at the note yet so can’t be following the order.

This update also introduces some Gender. Jade refers to PM as ‘Miss Mail Lady’, and has previously called WV ‘Mister Mayor’. I think it is a little strange that a chess piece construct has a gender but I respect people’s pronouns. Later, Jade thinks that the other Prospit moon tower only differs from hers as it’s ‘home to a young boy instead of a young girl’, though I’d say the clown presence and the inhabitant being asleep are more striking differences.

@tenaciouschronicler was so right to mention keeping an eye on dichotomies, and that’s definitely a theme I want to write lots about in the future, but I’m especially interested with how dichotomies are set up and then questioned or subverted. We’re seeing this with the art style, with the different timelines, possibly with the light and dark sides of the war, and hopefully with gender (although that could be my personal bias).

I actually forgot to even speculate who or what might be in the other tower, but John being there (in a matching golden outfit!) explains this earlier conversation.

GG: oh gosh john i really want to tell you all this stuff!!! GG: but i cant yet GG: i really think you need to wake up first! EB: huh? GG: well ok not literally GG: well ok maybe KINDA literally!! (p.652)

I think that awake Jade had this conversation with John, because of the Jade inequality where waking Jade seems aware of dream Jade’s existence, but the reverse doesn’t seem true – dream Jade isn’t aware of the finger reminder system (p.777, 1050). Waking Jade wants to explain the difference between these two selves to John, but she thinks John won’t believe her, because John doesn’t know about this alternate version of himself. If the dream self represents the unconscious then perhaps now that he can see the graffiti in his waking room, he’ll be ready to realize this. This means that the previous conversations Jade has with John (p.169, p.293) happen while Jade is asleep – in fact, are presumably about to happen, because she’s about to message John to ask about his present (p.1051).

Which means that the explosion Jade describes on page 169 actually happens on Prospit, possibly as a consequence of the eclipse Jade is nervous about. It also means that there is a version of Bec somewhere on Prospit, as he warns her away from investigating between the two conversations (p.293). This all calls into question my sense that Jade likes to take control of conversations, dispensing information slowly as she knows more than her friends – if her dream self isn’t even aware of her waking self’s life, and if she’s dreaming during roughly half her conversations, her information is a lot more imperfect than I thought. That’s exciting to me, and makes it well worth rereading all of Jade’s conversations and trying to figure out which Jade is talking.

Clearly, John has been within the Medium since before he entered the Medium. How long has he been here, and how does that line up with how long John and Jade have been friends while awake? Did Jade see the kid in the other tower and decide to search for him while awake using some of her powers? Or did John talking to Jade online ‘infect’ him slightly with some of her abilities and pull him under Skaia’s will? Is the whole thing a total coincidence, or is it a “coincidence”, predetermined by Skaia? Which version of Jade – awake or dreaming – was talking to John the first time they met online?

And no shit John is having troubled dreams. There’s an imp on his bed. Specifically, a black chess piece, which is unexpected on Prospit. And his graffiti is also here, so it’s a fair guess he’s dreaming about clowns. I’m thinking about how Prospit is supposed to be the planet of goodness of light, working for the righteous cause of protecting Skaia, but Jade and John both go through some rough stuff. Even if it can’t extend to waking life, I’d expect a place like this to guard its wards from unpleasant dreams, and one single imp doll should not be able to overpower the entire planet. So what’s going on? What are the secret dark sides to this luminous planet?

Page 1051 (below) has to be one of the coolest visual panels so far. The white/blue to black/yellow transition, with Jade hovering bravely between the two planets bringing the colors from the bottom section into the top, and the geometric reflections of Prospit superimposed on the swirling clouds, are all stunning and make the eclipse feel like an important moment.

> Jade: Reminisce about previous eclipse.