#i will answer the rest of the asks eventually

[lyrenminth]

Release

Adults only; mature content.

Summary: After having a stressful day, Justin decides to seek relaxation and you are there for him.

You could tell Justin wasn't having it. He told you about an earlier meeting he had with the Spanos about hiring A-level players, and for how he was grumpy all day, the results weren't on his way. When he was in such mood you didn't say anything at all. He would come to you when he was ready, so you just went with your routine anyway.

Justin would soften eventually, his short answers would get longer, and his frown would ease hearing you talk with your mom or watching your shows on T.V.

By night, you were reading on the bed waiting for him to come out of the shower. You were giggling at some character when he came out wearing a towel around his hips, the V lines disappearing under the black towel. You took a moment to appreciate how big and masculine he was.

Also, you noticed he was tired.

Instead of heading to the changing room, he went straight to you and uncovered your body, pushing the sheets aside. "What...?" you asked, a little confused. When he grabbed your legs to spread them, you felt a throb in your core. "Justin...?" he has never done such a thing and you were equally confused and turned on. He dive in between your legs, opening them to fit his wide shoulders, inhaling your scent. "Fuck yes" he groaned, his voice sending shivers down your spine. He rubbed his face there and you couldn't stop a giggle, still holding the book in your hands. He smiled at you for a few seconds before going back to his rubbing. " After a shitty day, I wanted to do this" he confessed. His hands caressed your legs, and reached for the waistband of your panties. "Keep reading your book, honey" he ordered, putting your panties down your ankles. "Don't mind me" your felt his breath there, warming your senses. You tried to close your legs, but he held your legs apart. "Justin..." you whispered.

"Keep reading" he kissed your lips, and you jolted. Your eyes tried to focus on the reading and the letters were there, but you couldn't understand so much about it. When it's hot tongue opened your folds and he groaned in pleasure, you felt yourself clenching around nothing. He started licking your vulva in long lazy strokes, his stubble prickling your sensitive skin. His long fingers opened your folds, to have a better view of your clit, the tip of his tongue was making circles around it, and you moaned, forgetting completely about the book. The tingles were all over your skin, and your hips started moving looking for the perfect angle.

He growled and you felt one thick finger in your entrance. His tongue was merciless, and your couldn't stop trashing, wanting to stay away but at the same time, wanting to get closer. It was maddening. His finger was inside you, creating a hook and touching a spot inside your vagina that was too much.

"Mmm it feels so good" you said, feeling the orgasm coiling on your belly. "Like that, yes, yes" he pleasure you, following the same rhythm. "Oh, Justin yess"

You grabbed his hair, pulling him closer. He became more enthusiastic at your eagerness, and the sight of him thrusting involuntarily to the mattress sent you over the edge. You felt so livid and feather-like, a wave of relaxation crushed you so hard you forgot how to breath for a few seconds. You went limp, trying to gather your brains.

He was kissing you neck, lips and jaw before nesting himself between your legs. He rested his weight on his muscular arms. You felt his erection on your legs, and gaining strength you reached between your bodies to touch him, he was hard and hot, gorgeous as always. He was yours and yours only.

You guided him to your entrance, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he pushed inside you, you received him easily, loving how full he made you feel. Both moaned, and smiled like two horny teenagers. When he started moving, deep and slow thrusts, your wrapped your legs around his hips, matching his rhythm. He hid in face in the curved of your neck, you heard him pant and groan. You ran your hands through his back, feeling the muscles moving and rippling with each thrust.

"Ooh, baby" you called, clenching your walls around him. He picked up his pace, harder and faster as he reached his orgasm, his breathing heavy. You hugged him, wanting to melt with him. He smelled so good, and the sounds he made made you wetter.

He rolled over to avoid crushing you, his arm looked for you, bringing you closer to his side. He kissed your forehead, still panting a little.

"Well, what's was that?" you asked, running your hand over his chest in a soothing motion.

"I had a bad day" he said, simply.

"Hum...you should have more of those" you joked. He pressed his lips and pinch your ribs, knowing you were ticklish. "No!" you laughed, trying to get away.

"I keep thinking about coming home and eat your sweet pussy" he confessed, and somehow, the tip of his ear were red. Justin, everyone. "I'm satisfied to say the least"

"At least you forgot about your problems for a little" you said, getting sleepy. You could feel his heartbeat under your hand.

"You make it easier" he murmured. "Go to sleep"

"Don't tell me twice" you yawned. "Best oral ever" you said without thinking. He laughed and you felt it.

"I love you" he said, so low you almost didn't hear it. You could just looked at him through your heavy eye-lids smiling lazily until you felt asleep.

[pitviperofdoom]

I've said before that TAZ Balance is a great fandom for crossover AUs because you can have the Starblaster land in pretty much any fandom world at some point during the Stolen Century and it works out

And proof of this is that buried in my google docs is an outline of a crossover fic where the Starblaster touches down in Moominvalley.

Obviously I wasn't going to let the Hunger devour this particular world, so they do wind up finding the Light of Creation in time, but unfortunately they find it in the hands of the Groke, who doesn't want to give it up because it turns out their powers cancel each other out, allowing her to approach people without freezing them to death. (Obviously Magnus is the first to befriend her, and they eventually solve this by crafting her some stones of farspeech so she can at least talk to people even if she can't get close to them anymore)

Also the longer they stayed in Moominvalley the more it gets "infected" by D&D mechanics, to the point where Snufkin starts granting Bardic Inspiration and Moomintroll finds out he can Action Surge. (Sniff gets really good at the Disengage and Dodge actions.)

No clue if I'll ever go back to it but just for fun here's what I wrote for it:

Barely a week after the start of spring, a ship descended into the valley and landed far too close for comfort by Moominmamma’s flower beds.

Moominpappa was smoking on the porch when it happened, having woken up with the sun before anyone else in the house. It was a gray, overcast morning, with the sky still shaking off the winter weather, but all at once it seemed as though the clouds had parted. As he watched, pipe tumbling from his lips, the dense cloud cover split around the silvery hull of a sailing vessel.

And oh, how impressive it was! It rivalled even Hodgkins’ Amphibian in pure impressiveness. From one end to the other the ship shone like polished metal--perhaps that was what it was--and there seemed to be a faint shimmering bubble around it. At the stern, a large, glowing white ring rotated slowly, flashing in the sunlight that peeked through the now scattered clouds.

The air hummed as the ship touched down not far from where Pappa sat watching its arrival in speechless awe. It didn’t seem very loud to his ears, but a moment later Moominmamma opened the door and stepped outside, perplexed.

“Now what’s all this?” she asked. “You weren’t expecting visitors this morning, were you, Pappa?”

“I wasn’t,” Moominpappa admitted, getting up to retrieve his dropped pipe. “How strange. Has Hodgkins built something new?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose,” Moominmamma said. “I’ll set a few more places at the table, just in case.”

Moominpappa squinted. HIs eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but he could make out a number of figures standing on the deck. He counted five at first, but as he approached the silver ship and its spinning ring, he spotted two more.

“Hello!” he called up. “Hodgkins, I don’t suppose that’s you, is it?”

At first there was no answer, aside from the shimmery bubble flickering out. Moominpappa squinted. The ship’s crew appeared to be conferring with one another. After a moment, one of their number broke away from the rest. A small staircase lowered itself from the hull, and the individual descended the steps cautiously.

Moominpappa blinked, then tipped his head back a little. The person before him, who was quite tall and broad enough to resemble a bear, offered a friendly smile that was only slightly offset by his noticeable black eye. After a moment, he extended a thickly muscled arm for a handshake.

“Hail and well met!” the newcomer greeted.

---

As bizarre dimensions went, a world populated by talking white hippo creatures ranked pretty low compared to what they’d already seen. Still, there had been a terrifying moment in which Magnus wondered whether or not the creature he was greeting was even sentient.

But the moment passed, and the hippo(?) accepted his handshake with a cheerful, “Welcome to Moominvalley! That’s quite a ship you have there,” in a deep baritone voice that definitely sounded out of place coming from a vaguely marshmallow-shaped creature with a top hat and a pipe.

A response like that meant a lot of things. One, they were probably friendly. And two, a giant flying ship landing near their backyard apparently wasn’t that weird. It was good to set parameters like that. 

“Uh, thanks!” Turning, Magnus waved up to the others. “So anyway, we’re super sorry for landing right next to your house, if you want us to move we totally can, just give us a minute…” 

“You’re fine, as long as you don’t flatten the rosebushes by accident,” the creature chuckled, pausing to puff on his pipe. “If you’d like, you can tell us all about it over breakfast.”

“You know what, that sounds awesome,” Magnus said, sincerely. It was always nice to find a world that appreciated good old-fashioned Rustic Hospitality. “Quick question, though, just to get it out of the way… have you seen any bright lights, recently?”

“Bright lights…” The hippo’s round dark eyes squinted thoughtfully. “What sort of bright lights?”

“Oh, you couldn’t miss it,” Magnus replied. “White, sparkly, falling out of the sky, fills you with the overwhelming need to go out and get it… have you seen anything like that?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” the creature said, sounding genuinely regretful. 

It was Magnus’s turn to squint. In past worlds, the Light of Creation had been craveable enough for people to lie to keep them away from it, but after ninety-odd years Magnus was reasonably certain that he could tell one way or the other. Hippo Man seemed truthful. “Well, that’s all right. Thanks anyway.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out, just in case,” the creature offered. “In any case, the offer of breakfast still stands. Feel free to invite your friends; we don’t mind guests around here.”

“Oh, sweet. Uh, there’s like seven of us, if that’s okay.”

“The more the merrier! I’ll go and let Moominmamma know. It’s a lovely morning; we might as well set up the breakfast table outside today.” With that, the hippo tipped his top hat to Magnus and turned to walk back to the tall house.

Magnus watched him go. “Huh.”

It had been less than a week since they first slipped into this dimension with the Hunger snapping at their heels, and they had spent most of that time orbiting the planet to take stock of it from afar. First contact with the locals was always a gamble, so a friendly first impression was always a good sign.

“Magnus?” Davenport called down. “How does it look down there? Was that creature friendly?”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” Magnus answered. “We’re invited to breakfast!”

Davenport opened his mouth to reply, only to be shoved unceremoniously out of the way as Taako bypassed the stairs and vaulted over the railing. “Hell yeah, I’m starving!” Lup was close behind, taking the steps three at a time.

“Hey, wait a minute, we don’t know if what they’re serving is even safe!” Davenport shouted after them.

“We have spells for that, dingus!” Lup yelled back without looking over her shoulder.

Davenport sighed and let them go before turning to Magnus. “Any sign of the Light of Creation?”

“He said he hasn’t seen it,” Magnus answered. “I don’t think he was lying, but…”

Merle’s head poked over the railing. “Ooh, that’s my time to shine! Be right down!” 

Davenport sighed in resignation, threw his hands upward, and followed. From what Magnus could tell, Lucretia and Barry were close behind him.

By the time everyone had disembarked, and Magnus had gone up to the ship to check on Fisher, breakfast was just about ready. There was a long table set up out on the grass, covered in a clean white tablecloth and set with eleven places and plates piled high with pancakes and fresh fruit. There were three hippo-creatures now; aside from the original in the top hat, there was one in an apron and a smaller one with no adornments at all. Two parents and a kid, maybe? On the table--literally on the table--was a little girl nimbly dodging the dishes to put down silverware. She was tiny: small enough to fit in the palm of Magnus’s hand. Even the smallest gnomes and halflings would tower over her; Davenport certainly did.

As Magnus watched, fascinated by the idyllic little scene, the smallest hippo began laying out a twelfth place setting. The tiny girl rounded on him, hands on her hips.

“What are you doing, Moomintroll?” she demanded. “There are four of us and seven of them, we don’t need any more plates.”

“It’s just in case!” the hippo creature answered, a little defensively. 

The girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m bothering asking,” she said. “It’s not even a week into spring, you know.”

“Now, Little My,” the apron-wearer chided her gently. “It never hurts to be prepared, no matter who happens to show up.” She turned to the crew of the Starblaster with a warm smile. “Of course, you’re all very welcome. You look as if you’ve had a long journey.”

“You have nooo idea,” Lup muttered.

“I believe introductions are in order,” Top Hat said, clapping his hands together. “You may call me Moominpappa.”

“I am Moominmamma,” the apron-wearer said. “But please, feel free to call me Mamma if you like.”

“I’m Moomintroll,” the third creature piped up. “This is our friend LIttle My.”

“I can speak for myself,” Little My said pointedly.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Taako singsonged under his breath. Magnus dug his elbow into the elf’s ribs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Davenport said, puffing his chest out as he stepped up as the leader. “I am Captain Davenport of the Starblaster, and these are my crewmates and friends. Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

“Well, then, why don’t we all eat?” Moominmamma suggested, pressing her hands together. “We can all get to know each other over a good meal.”

---

Such interesting strangers, Moomintroll thought. They all wore such pretty red coats and came in all sizes, from Captain Davenport whose head barely reached the top of Moomintroll’s snout, to Mr. Magnus Burnsides who towered over everyone. Some of them were beautiful, like quiet Lucretia with her white hair, and Lup and Taako with their long pointed ears and matching faces. Others were more plain but still friendly-looking, like bespectacled Barry and stout Merle.

And the ship. Was this what the Oshun Oxtra of Pappa’s stories had looked like, after Hodgkins taught it to fly? Pappa never said anything about a spinning white ring.

In any case, there were a lot of names to learn, and Moomintroll did his best, though he wasn’t quite sure which one was Lup and which was Taako. At the moment one of them was chatting with Mamma, asking about her pancake recipe.

Somehow, Little My had ended up sitting right next to Magnus, whose name Moomintroll couldn’t possibly forget because of how incredibly big he was. He couldn’t help but think that if Little My were to fall from a great height and land on Magnus’s head, Magnus would hardly notice.

“So what sort of creature are you, to get so big?” Little My asked boldly.

“Oh, I’m just a human,” Magnus answered. “Er… do you guys have humans around here?”

“None in Moominvalley, that’s for sure,” Moomintroll answered.

“I’ve never heard of a human before,” Little My said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, wouldn’t be the first time,” Magnus said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Little My asked suspiciously.

“It means we’re not from around here, darling,” the woman who was either Lup or Taako replied. Even their voices were similar, almost musical in the way they traveled through the octaves.

“I was wondering about that,” Mamma said. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”

“Yes, and what brings you here?” Pappa added eagerly. “I’m always eager to hear news from travelers.”

Their breakfast guests exchanged glances. They didn’t look suspicious about it; they looked to Moomintroll as if they simply didn’t know how to answer.

“How far did you travel to get here?” he tried. “It must have been far, if you have a ship that flies. Did you come from over the ocean?”

“We came from beyond the stars,” one of them, whose name Moomintroll had regrettably forgotten, said at last.

“Barold,” one of the twins warned.

“What?” Barold shrugged. “At this point, what do we really have to lose by telling the truth?”

“Yeah that’s a good idea, telling the truth,” Merle said with a grin.

“No, wait--!” Davenport protested. 

For a moment, Moomintroll felt lightheaded. Before he even had time to worry about it, the strange dizzy spell had already passed, leaving him none the worse for wear. He shook his head in confusion.

“So, any of you guys seen the Light of Creation in the past couple of weeks?” Merle asked.

“The Light of Creation?” Mamma echoed. “That sounds lovely. I haven’t the faintest idea what it is, I’m afraid.”

“It’s hard to explain exactly what it is or what it’s made of, in literal and scientific terms,” Barold replied. “Mostly because we still aren’t sure ourselves. But in appearance it manifests as a bright light, about so big.” He held his hands apart. “You would know it if you saw it. It would have been seen falling from the sky.”

Little My raised her hand in triumph. “I haven’t seen anything,” she said loftily. A look of confusion crossed her face. “I mean, I haven’t seen the light you’re talking about.” Her confusion turned to a frown, and then a scowl. “I haven’t seen it. I haven’t seen it.”

“What’s the matter?” Mamma asked. “It’s alright if you haven’t seen it. I don’t think any of us have.”

“I was trying to say I had so that I could play a trick on them!” Little My blurted out, then clapped her paws over her mouth. 

“Are you feeling alright, Little My?” Moomintroll asked.

“I keep saying things I don’t mean to—!” Little My stopped talking for a moment, still pressing her paws to her mouth. Her scowl deepened, more thoughtful than angry, before she finally lowered her paws and leveled a smirk at him. “Hey Moomintroll, who did you set the extra place at the table for?”

Moomintroll opened his mouth to say Sniff, or Too-Ticky, or Snorkmaiden, or even the Hemulen. What came out instead was, “It’s for Snufkin, if he comes back today.” He froze, wide-eyed, one paw flying to his mouth.

“Moominpappa, tell a lie!” Little My said.

Pappa looked confused for a moment before replying, “You’re behaving very oddly at the moment.” He blinked. “Oh, my. That’s not what I meant to say at all.”

Little My leapt up onto the table, sending Magnus’s glass of raspberry juice flying. “You!” she shouted, pointing across the table to Merle. “You said something about telling the truth, and now none of us can tell a lie!”

“Let me see,” Mamma said. “I find Ms. Fillyjonk to be excellent company. Sniff is fearless and selfless and a very good cook. It is currently raining. …No, I can still tell lies.”

Moomintroll looked to Merle, who had stuffed half a pancake into his mouth to keep from having to reply. Davenport and Lucretia had their heads in their paws.

One of the twins barely looked up from his food as he replied, “Merle cast a spell that makes you tell the truth.”

Merle almost choked on his mouthful. “Well don’t talk if you got caught up in it too!” 

“I didn’t. You’re just being an idiot.”

“Incredible,” Pappa murmured.

“Not really,” the other twin said, lazily lifting her paw. Before the eyes of everyone at the table, her slender paw burst into flame. Before Moomintroll could think of grabbing the juice pitcher, the fire went out without leaving a single scorch mark behind. “Most of us can do stuff like that. It’s whatever.”

Little My almost dove over the table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

“Maybe some other time, punkin.”

Barold cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, “Sorry about Merle, that’s the only spell he knows.”

“Is not! Who healed your ass five times in the last cycle?”

“As I was saying,” Barold went on. “You were asking us where we came from?”

“Yes, you mentioned stars,” Mamma replied.

Moomintroll sat up straighter. Stars were always worth discussing. “You said beyond the stars,” he added.

“Yes,” Davenport said reluctantly. “I don’t suppose you know about other worlds, do you?”

“Other planets, maybe,” Moomintroll said. “And the Hobgoblin was up on the moon for a while, but he doesn’t really live there.”

[jellywords01]

Bakugo x reader //snippet from a fic I'm writing

WC: 1k

You lead him along the balcony corridor, past multiple apartment doors, until you reach the right one. Usually, an automatic light flickers on if movement is detected in the area, but the landlord is taking his sweet time to fix whatever issue caused it to fail a few weeks ago.

So, there you both stand, hands clasped together, the summer night around you makes your foreheads damp and your clothes stick to your bodies. The impending rain is palpable with every breath you take.

You start to play with his fingers and caress his skin, grateful that it’s too dark for him to see how flustered you are. Your cheeks are seething hot with affection for him, and you hope it’s conveyed through the comfortable silence between you. Eventually, though, he speaks up.

“This yours?” he asks, nodding toward the door behind you.

“Yeah.” you breathe.

You consider giving in to the butterflies in your stomach. To throw caution into the wind and pull him inside the apartment, arms slung over his broad shoulders, around his neck. With your lips on his. But like a soap bubble, you think, the relationship between you is still too fragile, despite its beauty.

“Don’t wait so long to call me next time, y’hear?”

You giggle at that.

“I promise I won’t. I just didn’t want to come off as desperate. I needed to remain cool and mysterious in your eyes.”

The irony in your voice teases a genuine grin out of him, which, unfortunately, is barely visible in the darkness. But you can hear it in his voice when he replies.

“Cool and mysterious, right. Let me know when you find that person, because I went on a date with the goofiest fucking idiot t’day, I tell ya that.”

You slap his shoulder indignantly. When he calls out an “Oi!”, as he usually does when anyone opposes him, you have to shush him, reminding you both that you are still, in fact, standing in front of your neighbors’ doors in the middle of the night.

You hide your laughter in his broad chest, and he takes the opportunity to sling his arms around you. He sways you both from side to side for a bit, until you look up and cup his cheeks.

“I had a wonderful evening, thank you.”

A beat passes, then he rasps a quiet “y’welcome”, that almost gets lost in the sound of the cicadas’ calls.

Another beat passes you by, without Bakugo closing the tantalizing distance between your mouths. You get on your tip toes just a bit and bump your nose with his, while snaking your arms around his neck.

You feel his hot breath on your skin and his hands find your waist, your lower back. Yet, he hesitates.

“Is- Is this okay?”

You answer by finally connecting your lips. Warmth pools in your stomach when a sultry noise leaves his throat involuntarily. One of your hands cards through his hair at the back of his neck and his tongue slips into your mouth. The kiss is heated, but not too messy. You can tell he has a hard time controlling himself, because every restraint he shows in the kiss, he's lost elsewhere.

You’re pressed up against your door, his palms around the fat of your ass, the small of your back, clutching the fabric of your outfit here and there.

A seething hot coil tightens in your lower abdomen when his lips find your neck. Your skin sizzles upon the impact and you can barely suppress an airy moan escaping your throat.

With the remaining brain function that hasn’t yet been lost to pure instinct and desire, you push him away, gently but firmly.

The two of you catch your breaths and your hand remains on his chest all the while. Faint pitter patter reaches your ears. First you think the rain will remain light and fleeting, before the pour becomes heavy, as the individual drops become bigger.

“God damn it.” he says. He rests his forehead against yours.

You giggle again, lighter this time. The embarrassment of the intense heat from a minute ago still radiating off you.

“Text me when you get home, please.”

You press a quick peck to his cheek, wanting to send him off on his way, but before you know it, his lips are on yours again.

This time, the kiss is firm, slow and his hands envelop your face this time. Katsuki might not be a man who dedicates his time to saying lovey-dovey things, but he still manages to convey his honest affection when he wants to.

It makes your feelings for him bloom even brighter.

“You better call me during my lunch break tomorrow.” he says when you both finally manage to separate.

You promise him to do exactly that and thank him for bringing you home. He remains where he stands for longer than necessary, as if it’s physically straining to distance himself from you again.

His silhouette disappears down the stairs, to the exit of your apartment complex. His shoulders are pulled up to his ears and you can imagine him cussing out the rain when he walks over to his car.

You involuntarily hide your face in your hands and a breathy, little giggle escapes you. The keys jingle in your hand and a familiar scent welcomes you home. A satisfying click echoes through your entrance area, where a bunch of your shoes are neatly arranged, so that they’re not in the way of the door. You make sure to lock it, before sliding down its cold, smooth surface.

And there you sit now, satisfyingly exhausted, like after having spent the day at the beach, swimming and laughing and playing volleyball. Your skin is hot, still, after having made contact with the powerful warmth of Bakugo Katsuki.

Time passes, although you are unsure of how much exactly. You can’t bring yourself to care about anything else at this moment than to soak up all the remaining sensations of the goodbye you two shared. It’s the same feeling you get after eating a delicious meal with people you love and cherish. Nobody wants to be the first to get up, because it will break the magic of this here shared connection.

A fleeting, ethereal glimmer, like the surface of a soap bubble.

[imogenkol]

— SAPPHIC WIP SATURDAY

ok here’s the first bit of writing for official s2 Imogen x Bix! Takes place immediately after Bix’s nightmare. I just had to write a bit of comfort for them after that heavy arc (light spoilers ofc)

The others shuffled back to their respective beds as Imogen continued to run her palm up and down her lover’s back, whispering soothing words into her ear. Bix stared at nothing at all, her body gently swaying into the bounty hunter’s touches of its own volition. Imogen could see the hollow expression that overtook her, so she pressed a kiss to her temple and then rested her forehead on the same spot, her hand still caressing her back as if to will some feeling to return to her body and mind.  

But she could feel Bix slipping away.

“Will you join me for a walk, love?” Imogen quietly asked.

The request drew her vacant gaze. Bix blinked for a moment, a small flicker of recognition igniting in her eyes before she simply nodded.

In the darkness of night, the endlessly vast fields of grain appeared like a ghostly sea. A soft, cool breeze blew through the waist-high grass, reminding Imogen of the way a current travels on the surface of open water to eventually become a wave. There was no water here. Once the wind reached the edge of the field, it tickled her exposed skin light enough to raise an entirely different wave of tiny bumps along her arms. A chill shook through her spine, but she didn’t mind. Imogen simply walked in patient silence beside her mechanic.  

“It was Gorst again,” Bix rasped, breaking the serene absence of any other sound. 

Imogen nodded, used to the pattern of particular nightmares. The lost look on her face back at the mobil-haus was always a tell. Imogen hated to imagine that look back on Ferrix with her beloved strapped to a chair. “I figured as much.”

“When will this stop?” she murmured to herself through a heavy exhale as she tilted her face up towards the expanse of star systems.

They both knew the answer. It would never stop. The best they could hope for were the dreams to become infrequent. A year is hardly anything in comparison to a lifetime, but Imogen was certain more progress would be made nevertheless. Just as sure as the perpetual turn of the planet.

“Come here, darling,” Imogen said, pausing to pull Bix in.

Bix fell into her embrace, tucking her head underneath Imogen’s chin as the other woman wrapped her arms tightly around her. They stood there in the middle of the narrow path for a long few moments, shutting their eyes and listening to the breeze swirl through the grass all around them. Imogen allowed herself to feel the relief of her lover melting against her in the night, banishing the image of that wretched Imperial doctor and his cowardly instruments. No matter what evils still tormented Bix, Imogen held her here and now, far away from anything that could threaten her. As much of an adjustment it had been to integrate into Mina-Rau, Imogen would never entertain an alternative when she knew it was the safest place for them. 

“Can we sleep on the Huntress?” Bix requested almost bashfully. “Just for the rest of the night.”

“Of course,” Imogen responded without hesitation.

They returned to the mobil-haus, just to quietly collect a clean pair of clothes so as to not disturb the others who had fallen back asleep, and mounted one of the speeders outside. Imogen had parked her ship on the farside of Rau, cloaking the Crimson Huntress in what sparse cover the planet offered. For the first few weeks, she and Bix had not felt comfortable settling anywhere else. That is, until Brasso coaxed the mechanic to settle with them out in the far fields in that decrepit mobil-haus. Since then, Imogen had returned to her ship periodically to check on its condition or to fetch something, but it had been many months since it had taken flight. In fact, Imogen could not recall a time in the years she’s owned it that the ship had been so stagnant.

Despite that, the two women settled within the yacht as if they had never left. Bix kicked off her boots and shed her coat to fall into the cot that had once been their most frequent bed. Imogen smiled a little to herself as she waited for her lover to get comfortable before joining her. The mechanic situated herself with her back against the wall, leaving just enough room for the bounty hunter to lie directly beside her. 

As soon as Imogen slid into the covers, Bix wrapped her arms around her from behind and pulled her in as close as she could possibly manage. The adoration in Imogen’s chest bloomed at the fierce way the other woman held her. It made her feel like one of the stuffed banthas they sell at the shop for children. Perhaps she should have been annoyed at the thought, but Imogen heard the sigh of relief–felt it tickle the back of her neck as Bix buried her warm face there–and noticed the instinct for indignation utterly vanished.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @socially-awkward-skeleton @kyberinfinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @d-esmond @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @g0dspeeed @strangefable @statichvm @jacobseed @cptcassian @euryalex @auricfog @confidentandgood @e-the-village-cryptid @raresvtm @minaharkers @elligatorrex

[angelsberrymilk]

Insomniac Soldier Boy

Dean winchester & Soldier Boy

772 words

summary: Soldier Boy can't sleep so he makes it everyone's problem. Dean decides to do something about it.

tw: Insomnia, Soldier Boy Has Issues (The Boys), Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Not Beta Read, Substance Abuse, Recreational Drug Use

a/n: I wanted to write something a little softer than what I usually put out. and I also wanted a little more Dean and Ben interactions. + ao3 link

When Soldier Boy can't sleep, he's extra grumpy and mean during the day. He's easily irritable, and not matter how much he drinks or smokes, the chemicals don't relax him, if anything, they're making him feel worse, he feels sick.

And Soldier Boy never gets sick.

He just feels like he is, he can last longer while being deprived of sleep more than anyone else, he could last longer than humans, starving too, he's a fucking unit all on his own. But Soldier Boy sometimes just wants to take a fucking nap. Is that too much to ask for?

So when insomnia won't leave him alone, Dean gets tired of his shitty attitude and so decides to take matters into his own hands. He manages to drag him out of the bunker, it took a little fighting but he eventually did it, leaving Sammy behind.

He takes the Supe out to get some food, extra greasy and salty burger, loaded fries, thick milkshake, donuts and double chocolate chip cookies, Soldier Boy finishes it all in little time, and he doesn't say anything while he goes to town in the car while Dean drives. And Dean's glad, because he's sure he's reaching the end of his rope with this man, he just hopes Ben stays a little docile until Dean gets to his destination.

Once they get there Ben is a little confused, his beard has a bit of milkshake on it and he's glaring, because of course he is.

He demands Dean to tell him where the fuck he took him and Dean answers, drier than every, "Car Wash,"

It's those automatic ones where you don't have to really speak to anyone. You just have to pay and the machine does the rest. Dean pays and gets in the queue, and Ben shifts in his seat, cookie crumbs falling between the crevices of the seat, and Dean is glad that this wasn't his Impala. It was Sam's car, or at least one he stole, or got God knows where, because Dean would rather die than bring Baby here to just get scratched to hell. He does not trust these car wash places, he'd rather do it himself by hand or not at all.

Sam doesn't even care much about this car anyway.

Ben doesn't say anything, he just watches with something keen to wonder as the machine does its thing. The windows are all covered in soap and there's a bunch of colourful lights glowing, making the inside of the car glow in different colours. It was cosy, being in the car in total silence while the machine whirred to life outside, and the foam made it feel like a cocoon of safety, especially since Dean made sure to blast the heat to the max earlier, making it all warm inside.

Ben watches the whole thing like it's the most interesting thing ever. And once it's done he looks a little disappointed, "That's it?"

Dean doesn't answer and instead drives back around, pays again and gets in the queue, Ben is beyond confused and Dean is not interested in saying anything to him. So Ben keeps watching out of the window as everything happens outside of the window, belly full of food and warm in the jacket Dean lent him a couple of weeks ago.

Dean washes the car about four times when Ben finally relaxes in his seat and his eyes closes. His face loosens up a bit and his brows are not longer scrunched up, he finally looks a little at ease for the first time in days.

So Dean thanks the heavens and turns the car around, driving along the longest, emptiest road he can think of, to lull Ben into a deeper sleep. He drives around in silence for about an hour before he considers it safe to turn the car around and get back to the bunker, back to Sam.

Later when Ben finally wakes up, he's disoriented, the corner of his mouth was wet and he realises he must've drooled in his sleep. He looks around for Dean, about to reach for the door when his hand gets caught in soft material. When he looks down he realises it's a blanket and he stops moving. He blinks and lifts his head, recognising the bunker's garage. Ben stays there for a bit, relishing in the fact that he finally was able to sleep, and a dreamless sleep at that, a true luxury in Ben's world.

He leans his head back on the passengers seat and closes his eyes again, not willing to leave his cocoon just yet.

.

.

.

tags: @klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu @palepuppytimetravel @waynesmywife @rerejunebug @winbred @friendlyneighbourhoodfreak

[paracosm-draw]

First of all, I love your art and writing so much (currently obsessing over you slave!anakin au)!

For the kiss prompt thing, I would like to ask for the one given before one of them leaves for something dangerous cause I’m an angst junky 👉🏻👈🏻

Absolutely no pressure to fulfill tho!

I'm such a slow writer but I promise you I will fulfill all the prompts I received eventually 😇

Here's another one ! You wanted angst, peach ? I'll give you angst 😌 Hope you enjoy 💕

---

“I don’t like that you're going alone.”

Obi-Wan looks away from where he's adjusting his utility belt, meeting Anakin’s thunderous eyes through the mirror in front of him.

His boy stands in the middle of their shared quarters, arms tightly crossed against his chest, a scowl on his face that didn’t leave since the Council assigned Obi-Wan his next imminent mission. Imminent as in he's already running out of time if they’re gonna have another argument.

“I think I understood the first twelve times.”

Anakin’s scowl deepens. His presence in the Force is like a hurricane ; violent, unpredictable and dangerous. Not for Obi-Wan, but for anyone who decided to take him away from Anakin and to send him alone on a negotiation mission on a planet reputed for his absence of laws and his criminality rate higher than Master Yoda’s midichlorian count.

“This is not a joke to me, Obi-Wan. That mission is bantha shit, the Council should know better. I'm not letting their stupidity risk your life-”

“Watch your tone.” Obi-Wan snaps, turning around to confront him. It’s been a day, and Anakin is on a loop. He will not listen to another insulting and pointless speech. “Use some respect when you talk about the Council. Should I remind you that I'm still part of it ? Are you calling me stupid as well ?”

Anakin glares at him but has the wisdom not to talk back. Obi-Wan can see the way his jaw works, teeth grinding so hard it looks painful, even from there. His mechanic hand spasms in a fist against his ribs, the line of his shoulders drawn in a tense line. He's angry but again, this isn’t something Obi-Wan is afraid of. It’s rather usual, in fact. The first emotion that comes to Anakin when he doesn't know how to deal with the other ones ; frustration, anxiety, fear. It’s easier that way, for him. Except Obi-Wan is tired of suffering the consequences of his constant fury.

“That’s not what I meant.” Anakin mutters finally. His hand uncurls to hold his side and Obi-Wan can briefly witness the vulnerability flashing on his face. It makes his guts tighten painfully.

“I know.” He sighs.

Picking his lightsaber from the table between them, he clips it to his belt before walking to Anakin. The boy looks at him, still angry but unsure, searching for something on his face Obi-Wan isn’t sure he has the answer to.

“Look.” He says calmly, resting a hand on Anakin's forearm. He can almost feel the tension running under his skin. “Your presence is required somewhere else and is essential there. The Council can’t afford to send us both on the same missions all the time, you know that.”

Anakin frowns and looks away, but he nods curly. Of course he knows that, but it doesn't mean he agrees with it.

“I’m gonna be alright.” Obi-Wan assures, because this is the heart of the problem. “I promise you.”

“You can’t be sure.” Anakin replies stubbornly. “If I was there to have your back-”

“Yes, but you can't.” Obi-Wan interrupts him, not unkindly but firmly. “It’s been decided and you can’t change it. Now, this conversation is over. I need to meet my troops at the hangar bay.”

“Fine.” Anakin spits and steps away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. The anger is back, suffocating in the Force. When he talks his voice is dripping with it, cold and impersonal. “May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”

It hits Obi-Wan in the chest with the surgical precision of a stab wound. This is not how they part, and Anakin knows it. They never, never fly away from each other in anger or in sorrow. It’s a rule, and Anakin just threw it at Obi-Wan’s feet.

Obi-Wan knows that it's Anakin’s way of playing his last card. It doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it okay. Obi-Wan won’t fold. He can't. So he orders the pieces of his heart to hold together for a while longer and opens his mouth to say something. Anything. A peace offering, a plea. Anakin turns his back to him. He might have slapped him the face it would have been less painful.

“If this is how you want to do it…” He murmurs, grabbing his robe on the back of a chair and turning to the door. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

There’s a part of him that wants to turn back as soon as he crosses the threshold of their quarters, to snuggle into Anakin's arms and to beg him not to let him go without a word. But the other one, the one that's hurt and disappointed, the one that struggles to put boundaries in their relationship, reminds him he's doing the right thing by not giving in to all his demands, especially when they're unjustified by honor or duty.

The short walk to the hangar bay doesn’t allow him much time to put his heart in check and to conceal the sadness simmering behind his features. It’s always harder when it’s Anakin who’s the cause of it. Balance, which is inherent to the Jedi life, is such a fragile thing to maintain when feelings are involved.

This is why attachment is forbidden. He thinks bitterly as he steps into the hangar.

The moment he meets his Commander, his polished mask of Jedi Master and General of the GAR is back on. He can’t afford to think about Anakin with what’s at stake.

He closes his side of the bond and focuses on the debrief. He’s not going alone, despite what Anakin says. He’s going with a bunch of his best men, in case he needs someone to have his back if things get ugly. And he’s going with Cody, who he trusts with his life.

He'll be alone for the negotiations, that’s right. But who’s trying to negotiate peace treaties with a garrison on their back ? His troop will wait in the ship, ready to intervene only if he feels the need to. That exact part was the one Anakin disapproved of.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Obi-Wan takes a breath and gives the first flickers of emotions bubbling in his chest to the Force. He doesn’t want to think about Anakin right now. But it seems to be proving more difficult than expected.

“Everything’s alright, General ?” Cody asks next to him, lifting his eyes from the datapad he's holding to give Obi-Wan a questioning look.

He’s a perceptive man, Cody. Obi-Wan appreciates him for it. He forces a light smile on his lips and nods.

“Yes, thank you Commander. Let’s not waste more time, I’d rather wrap this as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Sir.” Cody gives him an hesitant look. He opens his mouth before deciding against it and turns away, gesturing to his men to move along.

Obi-Wan watches as the troop embarks into the mouth of the ship, feeling strangely out of his body. For all he wants to get this done, there’s something stronger compelling his feet to stillness. He doesn’t like to leave like this, with a weight pressing down on his stomach. What- What if Anakin's right ? What if something happens to him and the last memory Anakin keeps is of them being angry at each other ? The thought makes him sick. This is not something he wants and he's pretty sure this is not something Anakin wants either and still, they’re both too proud to admit it. Anakin prefers to hide behind his anger and Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan drapes himself in a false sense of duty as he marches to the ship. He’s a Jedi, first and foremost. Duty will always come first, alw-

“Obi-Wan !”

The exclamation echoes through the hangar bay the moment the sole of his boot presses against the ramp of the ship. His heart misses a beat.

“Obi-Wan, wait ! Wait-”

He turns around, just in time for Anakin to join him, grab him by the shoulders and crash their lips together with such strength he would have tripped down if the boy hadn’t pulled him in a secure embrace.

He lets out a surprised gasp as Anakin presses a million kisses against his mouth, frantic and out of breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me. I don't want to let you leave like this. Please-”

He’s shaking so bad Obi-Wan has to gently slip his arms out of his grip to cup his face between his hands. He doesn't even think before speaking.

“I forgive you.” Of course he does. In spite of everything, Anakin will always stay his sweetest weakness.

He doesn't have time to elaborate because Anakin is once again chasing after his mouth, and Obi-Wan never really learned how to deny him anything. He kisses him back, grabbing the curls at the base of his skull and pulling him closer. Anakin's arms move to tighten around his waist until there’s no space left between them. Until there’s only closeness and comfort and the maelstrom of unsaid things hanging above their heads.

Anakin kisses him like it’s the last time, with the ardor of a man in love - or in despair. He holds him like he never wants to let him go, and Obi-Wan believes that’s probably the case. For a while he lets himself be held, be loved and comforted. It eases something in his chest, to know that Anakin decided to overcome his pride because he couldn't bear the idea of letting him leave like that. To hear him apologize. Their relationship is not easy and never was, but they're slowly getting there.

“I have to go, love.” He eventually murmurs gently against Anakin’s lips. The hold on his waist tightens slightly.

“You come back to me, alright ?”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan softly kisses his brow, fingers resting against the back of his neck.

“In one piece.” Anakin precises, moving slightly to embrace Obi-Wan completely, holding him tight against his chest.

“You’re the one to talk.” Obi-Wan chuckles. He rests his head on Anakin’s shoulder and presses his palm against his heart, allowing himself a tiny minute. “I promise you.”

“You better.” Anakin mutters against his hair. “Or I come pick you up myself, the Council be damned.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Obi-Wan smiles. He feels lighter. Ready to leave.

He counts another three heartbeats before he pulls away from Anakin’s warmth. His boy looks sad and worried. He gently smoothes the crease between his eyebrows with his thumb and gives him a last, sweet kiss on the lips. There are some cheers behind them, on the ship. He tries to ignore them but the blush spreading on his cheeks betrays him.

“Wait for me, alright ?” He asks with a brush of his fingers against Anakin's jaw.

Anakin nods, taking his hand in his own and bringing it to his mouth where he places a kiss on his knuckles.

“Come back quickly.”

“Will do.” Obi-Wan promises before stepping away and onto the ramp. There are some words stuck in his throat, there, just at the base of his tongue…

He's on the platform of the ship when Anakin's voice rises once more.

“Obi-Wan ?”

Obi-Wan turns to him one last time. The engines are already running, the sound of them filling in the room with a deep noise. Anakin talks quietly but Obi-Wan hears him clear as day, above the engines as well as in their bond.

“I love you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart stutters in his chest.

The ship starts to buzz with the strength of the engines pulling it from the ground. The words are here, so close. They move from the back of his throat to the tip of his tongue.

“So do I.”

And he knows Anakin heard him when the doors close on his smile.

[talshiargirlfriend]

Day Twenty-Six of the 30 Writing Challenge

I thought I’d try a season ~2 dynamic. I think I’m too tired to do it justice though. Here it is anyway 😴

Under streetlights and shooting stars

Another day, another planet.

Unfortunately, they discovered the ore-rich valley they were visiting on this particular planet was prone to flash flooding.

Fortunately for Commander Tucker, SucCommander T’Pol was there to pull him out of the rising water before he got swept away. With her slight frame, it was easy to forget just how strong their Vulcan science offer was — until you found yourself manhandled onto dry land by her.

Trip leaned heavily against her and coughed.

Once she got him settled onto a grass covered ridge, he was surprised to find her holding his hand and looking into his eyes. He tilted his head in confusion and gave her a dopey little smile before realising she was checking him for shock.

“I’m all right,” he assured her before answering her questions and allowing her to complete her assessment while the rest of the team set up camp.

Trip’s luck didn’t extend too much further because he soon found himself sitting in front of the fire in damp underwear waiting for his coverall to dry.

T’Pol’s top dried in a few minutes, which was completely unfair.

He kept a curious eye on her throughout the evening. Obviously, she didn’t join in the singing Cutler started, but she didn’t sit there radiating disapproval either. Trip could’ve sworn he saw her looking amused at one of Travis’s jokes. Must’ve been the firelight.

Eventually, it was only the two of them left sitting beside the fire. He thanked her for saving his ass.

“There is no need to thank me, Commander. I simply did what was necessary.”

“T’Pol,” he said in mild annoyance, “let me be nice to you, huh? I know we didn’t get off on the best foot, you and me, but it’s good having you out here with us. Not just today.”

She considered him for a moment before nodding silently in acceptance.

“There’s a lot more camping involved in space exploration than I expected,” Trip said a few minutes later, just to make conversation.

T’Pol looked at him curiously, “Would you prefer to be amongst the conveniences of a starship?”

He took note of the fact she said conveniences rather than comforts. With so many people crowded on board, starship life wasn’t always comfortable.

“Nah, I like roughin’ it just fine. What about you? Do you prefer streetlights to moonlight?”

“No, I also like it rough,” she responded.

Trip choked and by monumental force of will managed not to laugh aloud. It was easy to forget she wasn’t a native English speaker.

“The expression is ‘roughing it.’ Liking it rough is a very different conversation.” He tried to keep his tone straightforward to avoid embarrassing her, although supposedly she didn’t experience embarrassment. Yeah, right.

T’Pol canted her head slightly in acceptance of the correction.

They kept a fairly comfortable silence. Trip was just about ready to turn in for the night when he spotted a shooting star.

“T’Pol, look,” he said in a hushed voice. “This is the third planet I’ve seen a meteor shower on. It’s beautiful,” he smiled.

“I have observed such phenomena from over thirty planets,” T’Pol remarked.

“So I guess it’s not worth noticing for you at this point.” He sounded disappointed to his own ears.

“On the contrary, Commander. Aside from the scientific data to be gained, it really is quite beautiful,” T'Pol said as she watched the sky. “The fact that it is a common occurrence doesn’t detract from that.”

Trip found himself reassessing her in the firelight once more. “That’s a good point.”

They watched a few more meteorites streak across the sky.

“You ever make a wish on a shooting star?” he asked curiously.

“Meteorite activity is common on Vulcan. Superstition is not,” she deflected.

He chuckled, “Of course not. Shoulda known better.”

T’Pol gave him a raised brow that suggested she agreed he should have. She looked faintly amused if he was reading her right. He was picking up on her knack for not actually answering his questions, too.

The warm glow of the embers, the light breeze, the stars overhead… The whole thing would be very romantic in the right company. He made a comment to that effect and she gave him a look of disdain.

“Oh, come on, T’Pol. Don’t Vulcans ever camp out… find a nice secluded spot and make love under the stars?”

“Vulcans do not ‘make love,’” she said icily. Still as prickly as ever. He grinned. And another non-answer. He was catching into her.

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Trip muttered slyly, watching the bronze rise in her complexion. “Goodnight, SubCommander.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Eighty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties,

Well would you look at that, an update within a month!! Still not as quickly as I'd like to update going forward but an improvement haha

I've somehow ended up writing two Emily/JJ heart to hearts back to back...

As always, let me know what you think! <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily had forgotten the exhaustion and discomfort that came with being 30 weeks pregnant. All the energy that came with the second trimester was long gone, and she still had 10 weeks to go. It was making her irritable, sparks flicking through her veins at all times, just ready to catch alight. Only Lily and Jack were entirely immune to it, and Aaron was more often than not, although he did occasionally do something to annoy her to the point where she yelled or cried. She knew on some level he preferred it when she yelled at him - she did too - because her tears had never been something he’d been able to handle well, something that was almost guaranteed to make him emotional too. 

She’s already irritated when she gets to her office, out of breath and annoyed at the lingering smell of someone’s breakfast sandwich out in the bullpen, so she knows that’s why her first reaction to the invitation she finds on her desk is anger. It has her leaving her office as quickly as she entered it, the pink and blue card clutched in her hand as she tells her team she’s pushing back their briefing by 30 minutes, well aware she’d be too distracted to get through it if she didn’t figure out what the hell was going on first. 

She just barely remembers to be polite enough to knock on Penelope’s office door before she walks in, the invitation held up in her hand. 

“Pen, what the hell is a baby sprinkle?” She asks, holding instead of greeting her, her anger turning into confusion since she’d left her own office, the short trip in the elevator enough to calm her down a little, “And why am I apparently having one next month?” 

“It’s like a baby shower,” Penelope says as she turns in her chair to face her, smiling widely, her excitement written across her face, “But for your second baby, so you don’t need as much as last time. It’s a sprinkle, not a shower.”

“A sprinkle?” Emily asks disbelievingly as she rests her hand on her bump and stares at her friend for a moment. Eventually, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I almost wish I hadn’t asked,” she blows out a breath. “That still doesn’t answer why I’m having one, and why this invitation is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Penelope’s smile drops her face, seemingly catching up on the fact Emily wasn’t exactly delighted at the thought of it all, “I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she says, wincing as she pulls off her headset, “Oh, I’ve overstepped again haven’t I? Like when I reached out to your dad last time-”

“Pen.” 

“Why would I bring up my past crimes?” Penelope mutters to herself, and she forces a smile, “I just wanted to take something off your plate.” 

“I wasn’t even aware that this was on my plate,” Emily exclaims, “I still have everything from when Lily was a baby. She’s not even two yet, all her newborn stuff is in the loft waiting for Aaron to bring it down.”

“I know,” Penelope says, pouting, “But what if baby Hotchniss number two is a boy?” 

Emily raises her eyebrow at her, “Baby Hotchniss?” She asks, putting her hand up when Penelope opens her mouth to explain, “You know what, I don’t need to know,” she says, sighing when she realises she’s trapped, that she can’t explain why she doesn’t need the ‘sprinkle’ without revealing that she and Aaron knew that they were having another girl. It was something just between the two of them, a secret they’d both been able to keep, and she was determined to keep it that way, where possible. “Fine,” she says, fighting a smile when Penelope squeals in response, “But I don’t want it to be huge. I don’t need anything.” 

“Of course, I’ve already invited the team - Reid was delighted at the idea of cupcakes, not so much by the idea of the games - and I wondered if you might want Haley to come too? I know you’re kind of friends now.” 

She smiles politely, the first flicker of anxiety in her gut, but she knows Penelope won’t notice, already too busy planning what Emily was sure would be a full-blown baby shower, not a sprinkle. “You’ve already invited them all?” 

Penelope hums, “All of them have RSVPed already,” she furrows her brows, “Except JJ, she said something about having to check with Will to see if they are away visiting his mom that weekend, which is strange because she never mentioned it before that.” 

Emily presses her lips together and nods, her hand on her belly as the baby moves, rolling with the anxiety she thinks she must be swimming in. “She said something to me about it last week.” 

It’s a lie, one she again knows Penelope won’t see through. She and JJ hadn’t spoken properly in weeks, nothing beyond polite conversation when they were in a group setting, her friend’s smile tight whenever Emily walked through the BAU’s bullpen when she went to have lunch with Aaron, JJ’s eyes fixed on her growing belly. It made Emily feel guilty, which in itself made her feel bad because of how happy she really was, her heart seemingly swelling along with her bump. 

She missed her friend, she missed going to her for advice and being the person she went to, but she understood. She knew if she were the one in JJ’s shoes, if she was still reeling from a loss and watching her best friend’s pregnancy develop, she’d have to take a step back too.

She understood, but it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. 

___

She blows out a shaky breath, plucking at the material of her sweater in a failed attempt to make it lay differently over her bump. It was Aaron’s, one of the biggest ones he had. She’d borrowed it, he’d say stolen, in an attempt to cover her bump, to conceal it as best as she could at this stage, but her pregnancy was still obvious - still visible for anyone who cared to look. 

She’d texted JJ and asked if she could come over, not wanting to turn up without giving her friend a chance to prepare herself, but also aware that this was a conversation best had in person. She’d left Aaron and Lily at home, had pressed a kiss against her little girl’s cheek as she left since she’d be in bed by the time she got back, and she’d headed to JJ and Will’s, determined to get past a conversation she knew wouldn’t be easy. It’s only when she’s on their porch, uselessly pulling at the material of her sweater, and she sighs, blowing out a slow, steady breath before she rings the doorbell. 

JJ answers the door almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting just on the other side, and she smiles at Emily, her eyes flicking down to her belly for a second before she looks back up at her.

“Hi,” she says, her smile tighter, “Come in.” 

“Thanks,” she replies, her fists tight by her sides as she digs her short nails into the palms of her hands so she doesn’t rest her hands on her bump, “I won’t stay for long, I promise,” she says, following JJ through to the living room, “I just wanted to talk to you about the uh…baby sprinkle.” 

She rolls her eyes as she says it, and JJ smiles, a real smile, as they sit on the couch, “Yeah, Pen handed out the invites this morning.” 

“I got invited at the same time,” Emily quips, and JJ chuckles, nodding as she does so. 

“That sounds right.” 

Emily laughs, and it fades along with her smile, her fractured friendship with her friend, the cracks having appeared through no fault of their own, seeming as damaged as ever, “If I’d have known she was doing it-”

“It’s okay, Em,” she says, her smile genuine as she looks at her bump again before she looks at her face, “I know you’d have warned me if you’d been given the chance.” 

“You don’t have to come,” she replies, “I won’t be offended, I don’t expect you to come. If it were me…” she swallows thickly, her hands in fists again as she still resists touching her stomach, not wanting to draw any more attention to it than necessary, to do anything that would feel like gloating, “I understand.” 

They both know she isn’t just talking about the party Penelope was throwing for her, but all of it. The lack of texts and check-ins. The polite smiles and small talk instead of the conversations that used to have them lose track of time, minutes turning into hours, until one, or both, of their husbands checked in on them. 

“Did I…” JJ swallows thickly, “Did I ever tell you the baby was a girl?” 

Emily looks up so quickly, unsure when her gaze had fallen to her belly in the first place, that it hurts, “No…no, you didn’t.”

JJ hums and nods, her smile shaking, “She’d be a year old soon. If…if things had been different.” 

Emily reaches out for her, grabbing her hand and squeezing, “I really wish things had been different.” 

JJ nods, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek, “Me too.” She clears her throat, “Did you and Hotch ever find out what you’re having this time?” 

She hesitates, unsure what to do - whether to tell the truth, to share the secret she and her husband had kept between them so her friend can be prepared, or to lie like she had whenever anyone else had asked. In the end, the desire to make sure JJ would be okay overrides everything else. 

“Yeah, we know-” she says, and before she can say anything else, JJ smiles at her, squeezing her hand as she cuts her off. 

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” She says, her smile a strange mix of happy and sad, and she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest when Emily looks shocked, “I took the prolifer classes too, remember? No more keeping things from me.” 

Emily presses her lips together, trying to contain a smile that didn’t feel appropriate, and she nods, “Yeah, it’s a girl.” 

“Any name ideas?” 

She rolls her eyes as she laughs, briefly forgetting everything other than this, everything other than a conversation with her friend that she hadn’t realised she’d desperately needed. 

“We can’t agree on anything. It’s so much harder the second time around because you want to make sure it goes with the name of your other…” She drifts off, grimacing when she realises what she’s said, feeling careless and stupid for getting lost in the joy of it all for a moment, “Sorry.” 

“Hey, please don’t apologise, Em,” she says, “It’s not your fault. It’s not either of our faults.” 

“I know,” she replies, “Doesn’t make it suck any less though does it?” 

JJ shakes her head, her breath catching in her throat, “No, it doesn’t.” 

She stays a little longer, asks questions about Henry and Will, and just about anything to drag out this small bubble of normalcy she’d found with her friend. When she leaves, JJ hugs her, her hold on her tightening when the baby shifts between them, a kick that Emily knows her friend feels, before she pulls back. 

When she gets home, Emily feels wrung out, exhausted in just about every way. The house is quiet when she steps into it, strangely so given the time of day. Aaron was usually making dinner or doing some work in his home office, wholly unaware of how he would hum to himself whenever he did anything. She finds him asleep in the armchair in the living room, Lily fast asleep on his chest in her pjyamas, her mouth open and her cheek pressed against his chest as she drools on his shirt and silk tie. 

Emily eases Lily out of his arms, smiling when Aaron tightens his grip on her, grumbling as he sits somewhere between sleeping and being awake. 

“It’s just me, honey,” she says, smiling when she settles Lily against her and Aaron opens his eyes, “You must have fallen asleep.” 

He groans, “God, I didn’t realise how tired I was.” 

“I’m exhausted too,” she replies, turning her head to kiss Lily’s forehead, “I think as soon as we eat, we should go to bed.” 

“Oh crap,” he says, standing up, his eyes still bleary, “I didn’t even get started on dinner.” 

She smiles at him and kisses his cheek, “Why don’t you order in pizza? Then we can eat in bed and snuggle before we inevitably fall asleep before the sun sets.” 

He nods, “I like the sound of that.” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “How was JJ?” 

She blows out a breath, “It was…hard. But it was nice to talk to her. For a little while, it felt almost normal. I told her the baby is a girl.”

She thinks if he were any other man, he’d be annoyed. He’d barely hold back his anger at breaking their pact to keep it a secret, but he simply nods because he knows her well enough to understand she wouldn’t have told JJ unless there was a reason. 

“I’m glad you spoke to her,” he says, kissing her one more time before he steps back, “Goats cheese and pickle?” 

She smiles at the mention of her current favourite pizza toppings and she nods, “Yes, please,” she says, stamping her lips against his before she turns her attention to the still sleeping Lily in her arms, “Daddy must really love me if he is happy to order me disgusting pizza.” 

“Ordering it isn’t the problem,” he quips, pulling his phone from his pocket to put in their order and he winks at her, “It’s kissing you after you’ve eaten it that’s a true show of love.” 

[cryingsoidontdie]

Weird rambling essay should Joel leaving band lol

Lowkey I think the way the statement was worded was really weird. Like it half of it sounded like it was written very professionally and the other half sounds like it was written by Joel himself. And the statements seemed to almost contradict each other. Like Joel has his view on why he’s leaving but the rest of the guys have a different view. Like Joel highlights his health issues but the band statement mentions drifting apart.

Also the soft launch of an announcement yesterday with Sami makes me think that his health wasn’t the only contributing factor to him leaving the band. And he probably wanted to pursue other projects and stuff and couldn’t do it with the band. And the fact he was at a radio rock event last night makes me think he’ll probably take up a much larger roll in radio and showbiz then with music.

It’s also really weird how the only person to separately comment on Joel leaving is Joonas, which makes sense because they’ve always seen closer and joonas is the ‘glue’ but also the whole band seemed to be really close knit and obviously great friends so you would assume atleast one of them would say something. And the comments turned off is obviously because they knew people would say a bunch of shit but also I feel like they didn’t have answers to a lot of questions they know would be asked. And when they got their award they acted kinda weird on stage like Joel didn’t say anything and he really only interacted with Sami. Which makes me think that even back then they all kinda knew it wouldn’t work.

I hope, really genuinely hope, the band survives this. The rest of the guys are talented enough on their own to continue, but Joel was a major part of it. He did the majority of the social media and was one of the lead singers. I can’t imagine how BC will sound without him and just Niko. And if they’ll get a new singer or one of the guys will step up but I’ve seen this before. Where cracks start to show when people leave and replacements come and the band eventually breaks up and I really don’t want that to happen I hope whatever reason Joel left for he’ll be alright and the rest and the guys will pull through

[liriostigre]

hi there! hope you're having a great day <3

i love all the art and artists you mention in your quizzes (secretly very excited for if u post a 2024 one), i was just wondering if you have any favourite tumblr accounts that post about art?

thank you! 💘

Hiii 💐 thanks so much for appreciating my quizzes!

I don't really follow art blogs, I follow personal blogs very similar to my main blog, so my mutuals also have tags for art, muisc, film, literature, etc. That's how I discover some artists/art on Tumblr, but it's mainly the Wikipedia app for me 🥰!!! When you read an article about an artist you like you'll see links to other artists and links related to the art movements or sometimes the artist's influences, mentors, relatives, friends, lovers. I spend hours reading Wikipedia articles (which obviously come with images lol) until I don't remember what was the article I started with 😬

My answer got too long so check under the cut, but basically if something catches my eye I always look it up on the internet! Always!!!

I always check out artists (not only visual arts) mentioned in the books I read. These are some I highlighted in The Savage Detectives and Of Human Bondage:

Another source for me is albums cover art, so I always research those. Here are some faves:

There are always a lot of art references in movies too (again, not only visual arts; it could be a character reading/mentioning a book or even the soundtrack), so one thing leads to another and that's how I discover art in general.

I also watch and read interviews of musicians, writers and filmmakers, and I'm always checking the Genius lyrics annotations and I watch/read/ listen to what they mention/reference. So I get pretty good books and movies recs. A few examples:

Sorry I couldn't rec blogs but I hope this was helpful anyway 💌

[theghoulboysblog]

Hiiii I’m a new follow to your account cos I love the ghoul boys! I’ve been rewatching old episodes of Weird Wonderful World and it still blows me away how much tenderness is stored in that silly show 😭😭😭

What is it about WWW that makes them so sweet to each other?? (Not complaining lol)

HELLO! :) THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING AND I AM SO SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE 😭 i put this in my drafts to come back to later and forgot about it cause i’m me 😭🙏

AND YES I KNOW OMG 😭 EVERY EPISODE OF WWW MAKES ME FEEL LIKE IM INTRUDING LMFAOOO. like i’m third wheeling on my own internet??? 😔 my own phone??? ☹️

as soon as these two get together alone, whether it be to eat together for food files or to do cute activities for WWW, they turn into big sweet ol’ saps and I LOVE IT <3

besties :)

[the-narwhals-awaken]

Bloody Hearts Bingo Day 12

Prompt: Smile, General | Sunshine smile/smile like sunshine

Kisuke let his breathing slow. Despite what many people thought, the main part of his soulscape- the 'welcoming hall', so to speak- was not a charnel house. It was not a laboratory, or a killing field, or a mirror of a place he'd ever been as an adult.

The part he was currently sitting in, kneeling in front of a tea-table, was a noble's recieving hall, every aspect perfected and made of exquisite quality materials. Even the Great Noble Houses- the ones still in prominence, at least- could not boast of such quality, but Benihime would settle for nothing less in her domain, especially in the parts of it that outsiders were permitted to step within. Many presumed much, but those who stepped in the realm of the Crimson Princess were reminded very directly that her title came with weight.

Kisuke poured two cups of tea- one for him, one for his princess. Benihime knelt across from him, her usual layers of immaculate robes slimmed down to two worn over an almost-sheer red dress. Still, she looked the royalty that he pretended not to be. "It will be war."

He nodded, taking a sip of his tea. It was a blend he never shared- tasting far too much like blood for others to be pleased, but the iron tang settled the part of him made for killing. "First Aizen, then onii-san, then chichi-ue." Names had power, and he would not forget who they were to him. "It will be slow to end."

"You will prepare them," she said, relentless as the tide, "they are ours and everyone who sees them will know."

"They will be safer if it is not immediately obvious that they are ours," he countered, watching as she took her own long sip, "if only to allow for people to underestimate them."

She shrugged. "They are young- they will be underestimated. Mark them and make sure they know whose they are- they will kneel happily at our feet and all shall know who we are." The one downside of Benihime's viciousness was a significant distaste for concealing their power and ability to the degree Kisuke preferred to work at. It was a fair point- he often made himself seem a fool for no reason, preferring to be mocked than feared, while she would rather be feared for what they were than mocked for what they were not.

Kisuke had to force the image out of his head. The thought of any of them- strong and clever and growing more so by the day- going to their knees willingly, happily, was intoxicating, and he could not be distracted while planning. "They will lose trust, lose chances- too many people hate me for association to be safe."

Benihime smiled like the sun- sharp and unrelenting, impossible to ignore and just as able to bring things to life as ruin them. "Either they will keep them close because they need them or they will die, Kisa-chan. You know as well as I that you will bring them along and they will be damned because of it."

He bowed his head, acknowledging her words. "Very well. Yet we will go slow- steadily build it up, let it slide under the awareness of those who do not know to look. Let them see and yet be blind, let them have all the pieces and be unable to piece together the solution."

The smile on Benihime's face at his words reminded Kisuke that despite the way many spirits often socialized, space blurring and weaving together, Benihime had always had as much space as she'd needed. "And as for yourself?" She gestured rather pointedly to a clothing stand that appeared almost out of nowhere.

The robes that hung on it were a set that Kisuke hadn't worn since they'd been fitted. Rich and deeply embroidered, the fabrics were suited for a prince- which, despite his protestations, he was. More importantly, they were meant for a prince to go to war in, layers of silk forming armor and each thread soaked in power till it almost dripped off of it.

"Not yet, my princess," Kisuke said, averting his gaze and taking another sip of tea. "Perhaps for Chichi-ue." He stood, running his fingers along the topmost layer of fabric, then gently flicking it back to where it was stored. "Greaves, perhaps? Some form of shin guard, as well. Perhaps a chestpiece, but we'd have to adjust that to mobility and hiding well and I'd rather wait till after this next round of growth spurts finishes before we worry about something like that."

Benihime simply steered him away from the tea-table, pushing him back down to his knees in the middle of the hall, just in front of her seat- a low bench, crafted as elegantly as everything else there but almost understated despite it. "You know they'll have to find out, before this is done." It was the kindest thing she'd said all evening- just as he could be harsh, she could be gentle, though for both of them even their kindest touches were barely restrained from drawing blood.

Kisuke bowed his head and hummed acknowledgement. A weight settled on his head, and he knew what she'd done- long ago, when they were both children scrabbling for survival in the Rukongai, she'd hidden the part of him that shone with his father's power. Now she was returning it to him, ensuring that he could not hide.

A crown was a small price to pay, in the end, for the fulfillment of all his duties.

[lunar-wandering]

someone's going through my giggle glow au tag and i would like to once again say that i miss that au so much

[lskamil27]

Hey, do you have any rpg maker horror/rpg maker game recommendations?

RPG MAKER GAME RECOMMENDATIONS,,, Oh boy,,!

I have some that I do like a lot, however, there is a chance some people may not be TOO crazy about it since I am someone who likes it a lot when a game has lots of lore & story that I can bite into and think about more when I’m done!!

I think, right now, what I like as of right now ( these are not ranked in any particular order ):

1. Fausts Alptraum - Free to Download, Artbook You Have to Pay For: A game about a girl named Elisabeth who visits her family’s old home after a funeral, being trapped inside and having to get out.

A BIIIGGG favorite of mine, due to having a nice balance of awe and admiration of its art direction, while balancing tension and unease as you explore

2. Angels of Death - Pay to Play: A game about a girl named Rachel who wakes up in a building and is forced to progress through its floor levels to get out, each floor having a leader who seek to hunt her down.

Another favorite of mine, because I love the story and characters! The symbolism and juxtaposition of Rachel and Zac is so fun, along with plot that had me hooked into it! ( I will say, I am not the best at playing high stress games so I had to watch play-throughs to see the endings LMAO )

3. Mad Father - Pay to Play: About a young girl named Aya who lives alone with her mad doctor of a father, and his assistant. Aya is forced to confront the horrors of her father’s crimes to try and save him when she hears his screams on this particular night.

This was a game I had gotten into when I was WAYY younger! It definitely left a lasting impact on me since I am a big fan of medical & body horror now. I don’t know how to say it, but trust me!! It’s a lot of fun!

4. Fear and Hunger - Pay to Play: Between a cast of 4 playable characters, you are tempted by a personal quest that leads to the Dungeons of Fear & Hunger, unaware of the horrors and depravity that lies inside.

This is a big time favorite of mine, HOWEVER - I do not recommend this to everyone, as the triggers and violence in this game can be extreme for some others to go through. I highly recommend reading any available list of triggers for this game before trying it out, because the content is pretty dark. However, I do like it for its art direction, the lore and its characters, that the creator has made for it’s story and sequel!

5. Flesh, Blood & Concrete - Free to Play: Focused on the protagonist, Lera, who’s car breaks down on a snowy and is invited into the apartment building nearby by a young girl named Nika. Exploring the strange building, Lera encounters unsettling visuals and strange feelings of deja vu.

I recently just played this, and I adore it a lot for the story that has been crafted by the creator, with its message - as well as the welcoming, yet unsettling art direction it has, with the various home-y apartments and depictions of meat & flesh.

Now, these aren’t RPG Maker games themselves, but I will recommend them because I think they are fun to play on free time:

Soul Void - Free to Play: Gameboy pixel style, regarding the protagonist who explores a strange world, looking for a way out. Very beautiful art, and beautiful message!

Saint Spell’s Love Guide to the Magical Student’s Spellbook - Free to Play: Pixel Visual Dating Sim, very pretty, very fun routes to play, my friends and I loved playing it during our lunch breaks in uni!!

[allylikethecat]

omg more prompts!! would love to see matty holding hands with george while he’s stressed out about something and then maybe later laying his head in george’s lap🥺

HELLO THERE ANON,

You sent me this WONDERFUL intimacy prompt literally three months ago, BUT I finally did it, I finally filled it! Better late than never? Right? I want to apologize though for taking so long to get to it, and thank you so much for sending it in. I hope that you're still around to see the response! I ended up combining the two- I hope that was okay! Please let me know what you think! Additionally, if anyone else wants to send in any intimacy prompts, the list can be found here. I can't guarantee that it won't take me three months to finish the next one, but I promise that I *will* eventually. I really enjoy working on prompt fills and even if it takes me forever to actually sit down and write them, just know that I am in fact always thinking about them!

Thank you so much for requesting this prompt, your patience since I am the worst and it took me months, for reading, and for your continued support! I look forward to hearing what you think!

❤️Ally

WARNINGS: Reference to past drug abuse

Holding hands during a stressful situation & Resting your head on your partner's lap

Matty hated flying. He hated the drive to the airport. He hated that they were always, inevitably, caught in stop and go traffic that made his already nervous belly churn, nausea burning the back of his throat. He hated leaving his bag with the airline agent, the worry that it would get lost, that it would get stolen, that it wouldn’t make it to his final destination even as he obsessively tracked its air tagged location on his phone. He hated going through security and border control. He hated taking off his jacket, and shoving his backpack into the plastic bin. He hated the scrutiny of the security agents as they took in his tattoos and the scars on his arms. He was always, without fail, pulled for random, additional screening. He always tried to smile good naturedly, anxiety bubbling in his gut, even if he knew he wasn’t truly chosen at random, drug dogs sniffing his ankles as they swabbed his hands for explosives. At least he got to carry his own passport now, it was no longer in Jamie’s clutches as if he was going to run off to score the second he was left unattended. (He never had even considered fleeing an airport to score, however, he had considered fleeing an airport to run back to the flat he shared with George and hide under the covers of their bed.)

He hated making his way through the crowded terminal, people rushing around him, knocking into him, suffocating him as he tried to remember how to breathe. The straps of his backpack digging into his shoulder. He knew there would be a red mark on the skin when he sat it down, there always was. He loved their fans, he loved them more than anything, but he hated that he could feel their eyes on him as he moved through the airport, taking pictures of him with his eyes downcast, the brim of his baseball hat pulled low as if it would be able to fully hide his mop of curls. Only for the pictures to end up on Twitter moments later, which led to more eyes seeking his location. The braver ones would approach him and ask for a picture with him rather than just of him from a distance. He would force a smile, his arm stiffly around their shoulders as he tried to focus on his breathing, his palms sweating as every fiber of his being screamed danger and run. He hated that they always seemed to be assigned the gate furthest away from the main artery of the terminal. He hated that his anxiety meant he needed to lay eyes on the gate, that he needed to verify that it was real before he could wait with the rest of their group in the lounge. 

He hated that once he had dropped off his bag, and made it through security, and checked on his gate, that it was time to wait. Matty was not a patient person, he was even less patient when he was stressed, wanting things the way he wanted them right this instant. Demanding, George had called him one time with an amused smile and love shining in his eyes.

At this particular instant, he was both stressed and demanding, gripping George’s hand as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth as he dragged him through the crowded corridor towards their gate. He was more stressed than even his usual airport levels of airport anxiety. He hadn’t slept the night before, tossing and turning, worrying about the ten hour flight from LA to London they would be embarking on the next morning, popping piece after piece of nicotine gum as they inched towards departures in their rental van. They had played the last show of the tour the night before, and Matty was burnt out and ready to go home. Once at the airport, he had been, as usual, pulled for additional screening, the man that patted him down rough and inconsiderate. He had been stopped by a duo of fans less than five minutes later, forcing a smile as he tried to swallow down anxious tears threatening to spill. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his blood rushing in his ears as a man speaking loudly on the phone bumped into him, splashing him with iced coffee.

“You’re okay,” George soothed, giving Matty’s sweaty hand a comforting squeeze of his own, as the man turned away from them, glaring, as if they were the ones not watching where they were going. He swiped his thumb reassuringly against the back of Matty’s hand. 

“The gate is just up ahead,” George said, pointing with his free hand to B37. “We still have an hour ‘til boarding.” 

Matty nodded, wishing that seeing the gate with his own eyes would have loosened some of the tension in his chest, the way it usually did. George gave his hand another squeeze and Matty swallowed hard. George had calluses on his fingers and across his palm from years of playing the drums professionally, Matty loved that they slotted perfectly against his own guitarists calluses. Matty loved that George’s hands were so much bigger than his own, dwarfing his hand, his fingers wrapping fully around his own, engulfing them, protecting them from the outside world. He loved that even when he was shaking, even when his palms were disgustingly damp and sweaty, George never let go. He might have been the one clinging to George, but really, George was the one holding onto him. He closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the feel, on the weight of George’s hand, intertwined with his own. He could still feel his heart beating in his ears, but he no longer felt like he was going to drift away, like he was going to be pulled out to sea by the current and lost forever.

George pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Matty’s head. “Let's head up to the lounge, I would kill for a cup of coffee.” 

Matty let himself be led through the crowd, their hands connected as if George was the tugboat guiding Matty’s ship to shore. George showed their passes to the hostess and they were granted access, the rest of their group already sprawled out on the couches, bags at their feet, coffee in hand. Matty swallowed a yawn, he was exhausted, and knew that coffee would help, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach the acidic liquid at the moment.

Matty sat down on an open two seater. Matty hated that he had to let go of George’s hand as he made his way over to the coffee bar, pleased that they were reunited a moment later, a steaming paper cup in George’s hand. He dropped into the seat next to him and without thinking Matty found himself leaning over, not caring that technically they were in public, to rest his head in George’s lap. 

“I just want to go home,” Matty said softly as George tugged Matty’s hat off to run his fingers through the messy squashed curls. 

“Soon love,” said George, “we’ll be home soon.”

[the-whispers-of-death]

cute thing about my ocs:

Void likes to hold hands. also Void @ Kali: "you are my (3rd) dad. you're my dad boogie woogie woogie" (if you get the vine referance)

Selga purrs and his chest noticably vibrates when he does so

not very cute thing about my ocs:

due to.... well everything they've been through they're desensitized to violence and are casually very violent with eachother at times and throw around threats like it's candy (one moment they're throwing hands, beating the absolute dogshit out of eachother and the next they're snuggling in a pile)

Romanas spontaniously hurts himself at times mostly when already frustrated (banging his head against tables/walls, scratching/biting himself the works) i will not let this man rest ✌️❤️

I don't understand the vine reference (never was on vine when it was alive), but Kali would happily hold Void's hand if he let him.

Selga and Stone can purr together, because Stone too purrs.

Stone, anytime your ocs are being violent and careless with each other: Please don't.

Romanas moves to hurt himself and Stone just picks him up and holds him in air jail like he's a cat.