#it was an idea and I puked it onto paper

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about having the most mundane conversations with Price while being in rather compromising positions with him | 18+, MINORS DNI

Being captain meant having little to no free time for yourself and that was a sacrifice Price was willing to make since it didn’t affect anyone other than him.

Most of his time was spent in the gym, out on the field or locked away in his office dealing with the pile of paperwork that never seemed to stop growing. Free time for him was a rare thing and when he did have some time for himself he was always prepared that it would be cut short by someone or something.

As mentioned before it was a sacrifice he was willing to make but it all changed when you came into the picture. His constant absence had now started to affect someone else.

And you knew it was eating him alive, could see it in his eyes as you jokingly told him how cold his side of the bed was.

You’d see him nervously chewing his lips when he heard you say “long time no see” after he’d gotten back from yet another long mission that had kept you away from him.

You had countless conversations about it, argued even, well it was mostly Price arguing with himself about how you deserved someone else, someone who’d always be there, not the ghastly presence that was the captain himself.

You reassured him every time of course, told him you knew who he was, what the relationship would be like, knew what you were getting yourself into when you’d ask him out. You were in the military yourself and were no fool to what was bound to come out of this relationship. Besides he made it all worth your while when you actually got to see the man.

Especially in moments like these when he’s seated between your legs using either his hands or mouth to make you cum while he’s asking about your day.

Albeit seen as something mundane, he treasured the fact that he could ask about your day since he rarely got to spend his days with you.

So when he’d get the chance, usually early in the morning or late at night, he’d ask you about it; what you will do, what you have done or how it’s been. Tell him everything, he wants to know all about it.

“How was your day angel? ” he’d ask while kissing along the expanse of your thighs “tell me about it yeah?”

Will deliberately ask questions that will keep you talking long enough while his mouth is occupied. Despite not being able to talk much he’ll still hum and nod when you talk, will pull away from the spot between your legs to ask follow up questions or even make comments about what you had said.

If he’s just using his hands it’ll feel a lot more intimate of course since he’s much more present in the conversation, lots of eye contact, gentle smiles, calm and mellow voice as he asks his questions while his hands do all the work.

It makes an interesting sight really. You’re either pinned down to the bed or propped against a wall panting and body shaking while Price is between your legs, hair trapped between your merciless fingers, cheeks flushed but voice ever so composed as he asks about your day.

If you were to just go by his voice you'd never guess what he was doing.

But you can’t deny the fact that there’s something so exciting about having him ask about your day at work while putting his very own hand to work or having him ask about some movie or book you read before he buries his head between your legs, or hearing the word “close?” as he allows you to rant about whatever’s been on your mind lately.

And if you happen to answer a beat too late- too busy getting lost in whatever he’s doing with his mouth and hands, he’ll remind you to keep talking again.

One-two -three taps on your thigh in warning, before he’s pulling away from the spot between your legs with a stern look on his face.

“When I ask something, I expect a response”

You’d just furiously nod at that, biting down on your lip and hips bucking up at him, just wanting for him to get back to it.

“Good good” he’d say with a gentle smile on his face, no trace of that sharpness from earlier “ now how was..“ is what he says before he goes back to spot between your legs.

Even once you’ve reached your peak, and he’s holding you close as you’re coming down from it, his eyes will widen in realization as he says “wait you never finished telling me about..”

You’d just sigh and roll your eyes at the man you love so much.

It’s different - non traditional in every sense but it’s something you truly cherish in your relationship.

He’d even mention some of these things you talked about while in public, which would have you blushing while he’d play all innocent about it.

“What? I was just asking about..”

[Bonus: does not let anyone impose on these moments. Early mornings and late nights are reserved for you and you only, to hell with anyone who disagrees with it.]

[witchesverse]

girlfriend killer.

pairing: dark!agatha x fem!reader

summary/request: I don’t know if you are accepting request but if you are I have an idea for Agatha Harkness and R… AU where R has had horrible luck in love. Every partners R has dies. R always finds comfort in her friend and neighbor, Agatha. R has no idea Agatha is killing R’s partners so that no one will ever take R away from Agatha..

content: noncon, mention and small descriptive of murder, mention of stabbing, mention of drowning in bleach, heavy manipulation, HEAVY TOPICS, funerals, mention of missing people, cum eating, pussy eating, strap-on sex, small mommy kink, knife play, crying, cum-filled strap, tummy bulges, humiliation, kidnapping, cutting.

a/n: this is honestly the darkest fic i've ever written and i loved writing it. (shoutout to @beggingforyours for being my assistant in writing this)

masterlist

You sniffled and wiped at your nose as tears stained your cheeks. You held a small rose bouquet; they were her favourite flowers. You were surprised that you were able to hold your sobs back as they lowered your late girlfriend into the ground.

"Come here, dear."

Your neighbour, Agatha held her hand out for you. You buried your face in her neck and cried. She held you and rubbed circles on your back.

For the past few years, you have had horrible luck with love. All of your partners have passed away in tragic accidents or have gone missing. This was the fourth girlfriend that you have attended a funeral for, and you don't know how much more you can take.

Without Agatha, you don't know if you would still be here. She has nursed you back to health after each funeral. Your friends would tell you Agatha was creepy and weird, but Agatha was your rock.

"Shall we go back to my place?" Agatha whispered.

Whilst still sobbing, you nodded.

-

It had been two weeks since the funeral and you hadn't left Agatha's house once. You had no reason to with how good Agatha cared for you.

Occasionally, Agatha had to leave for work reasons which left you alone in her house for a few hours. Agatha had one rule at her house.

Do not enter her basement.

It was an easy rule to follow. Half the time you forget the basement existed. But waiting for her to arrive back home got boring, so curiosity struck.

The wooden steps creaked underneath your steps, making you cringe each time. You dragged your hand across the wall, silently triumphing once you found the light switch and turned it on.

The basement looked normal. A large desk was at one side of the room and was covered with books and papers, and red paint splattered on the floor.

You didn't know Agatha enjoyed art.

A frown settled across your face when you noticed the weapons around the room. There must have been at least 20 different weapons. You guessed she enjoyed collecting them.

You looked at the papers and books on her desk, recognising a few titles but a diary caught your eye. You know it's bad to look at someone's diary but you couldn't help it.

Entry 42: Murder #4 I killed Darcy Lewis with a Zombie knife. The blade perfectly pierced her skin and ripped it up as I pulled it out. I smile remembering her screams for help and her promises to leave Y/n alone. Once she was weak, I held her head under bleach-

You slammed the diary closed and grasped onto the table. You felt like you were going to puke. You covered your mouth with your hand and cried.

Agatha Harkness was a fucking murderer.

She had murdered Darcy, the girlfriend who you had just buried two weeks ago, and she had comforted you through it. Darcy's body was never found, but if you continued reading, you were positive you would know where it was.

Darcy promising to leave you alone made questions swirl in your head.

Why did she say that? Is Agatha targeting your lovers? Did Agatha kill your other girlfriends? Why you?

You had to tell the police. You grabbed Agatha's diary and searched for anything else that could be evidence.

Loud claps rang throughout the basement and you froze.

"It looks like we have a little rule breaker, isn't that right, hon?"

Agatha stood at the bottom of the staircase and looked at you with an amused smile. She balanced a small knife between her fingers.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice.

"Y-You fucking killed her." You shrieked.

Agatha shrugged.

"Did you kill the others?" You asked but shook your head after "No. No, don't tell me. Just get out of my way so I can tell the police and get your insane ass in jail."

Agatha's eyes narrowed, her amused expression disappearing. You shuffled backwards as she stalked closer.

"Oh no, baby." She tsked "That's not how you talk to mommy."

A wave of confidence washed over you and you ran. You didn't get far. Her hand reached out and grabbed onto your hair, yanking you into her. Her diary flew out of your hands and you pushed away from her.

Agatha was stronger than you and kept her hold. She forced you on your knees and held the tip of her knife underneath your chin to keep your head up. Her grasp on your hair was painful.

"Why?" You cried.

Agatha rolled her eyes, "Those bitches weren't good enough for you so I had to remove them."

"You don't get to decide what is good-"

Her knife nicked your cheek as she slapped you. The unexpected slap shocked you and you didn't know how to reply.

"But I do get to decide."

She roughly pulled you to your feet and shoved you into the table. You grunted as your front collided with wood. Agatha pinned you down with one hand and held her knife in the other.

"Don't move unless you want to be cut."

You couldn't control your tears and cries.

Agatha used her knife to cut a hole in your pants, revealing your panties to her. She placed her knife on the table. She pushed your panties to the side and groaned at the sight of your bare cunt.

You held back a sob as her fingers dragged through your slick. She moaned at the taste of you on her fingers. She lowered her face to your cunt and licked a stripe up it.

Her moans caused vibrations and you shivered against her.

She pulled away from you and you heard her taking her pants off. There was the click of something opening and closing, and then you felt the head of a cold, lubed strap pushing into you.

"Please, Agatha." You sniffled, "Don't do this."

Agatha grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face into the table, "Shut up and take it."

Her strap easily pushed into you. You cried as the stretch burned and your walls clung to her. She slowly pumped into you, thankfully letting you adjust before her speed increased.

The basement was filled with your moans, your skin slapping together and the wet noises your cunt made.

Agatha pulled you up into her chest, her hand finding its way around your throat and fingers twisting and tugging at your nipples. You moaned loudly and your head fell onto her shoulder. Agatha kissed your neck before sucking and licking at it.

Her hands rested on your tummy, "You feel that? That's how deep my dick is."

You whimpered.

Agatha started to softly moan and grunt in your ear, and you knew you were both getting close. She dug her fingernails into you, carving crescent-moon marks into your skin.

Agatha moaned loudly and forced you back onto the table. You felt warm liquid squirt inside of you, which pushed you over the edge into your orgasm.

Your head went blank and you pressed yourself into Agatha's strap until you came down from your high. You couldn't deny that orgasm was one of the best orgasms you had ever had.

Agatha turned your body around and pulled her strap out. She wrapped her arms around your legs and licked at you, cleaning you up.

You softly cried at the realisation of everything.

Your sweet, perfect neighbour has been murdering your partners for years and she had just fucked you in the same room she killed them in.

What's going to happen to you?

[swappermanent]

The Freeloader

I think Brian resents me a little bit sometimes. I can see it in the way he sighs when he gets home and finds the mess I’ve made. Or how he mutters under his breath when he has to clean up after me. It’s the little things, you know? The unspoken tension of living with someone who doesn’t quite pull their weight.

After all, I am a freeloader. I stay in his apartment rent-free, eat food I didn’t buy, and, let’s face it, I don’t exactly contribute to the household chores. The dishes? Never done them. Laundry? Forget it. I’ve even been known to, uh, occasionally puke on the floor and not clean it up. Not my proudest moments.

Brian’s patience is admirable, really. He’s a good guy, but I get it—dealing with me isn’t always easy.

Maybe I should give you a bit more context. Because I’m starting to sound like the world’s worst roommate.

I’m Oscar. And I’m a border collie.

Yeah, that’s right. A dog. Brian adopted me as a puppy about five years ago. Back then, I was just a tiny ball of fur, all wobbly legs and oversized ears. I don’t remember much about that first day, but I do remember Brian’s face. He looked so happy, like he’d just won the lottery or something.

“Hey there, little guy,” he’d said, crouching down to meet me. His voice was warm, and his hand smelled like leather and soap. “You’re coming home with me.”

I’d wagged my tail so hard I nearly tipped over.

Brian named me Oscar because, according to him, I “looked like an Oscar.” I still have no idea what that means. Is it a compliment? An insult? A random name pulled out of thin air? Who knows. Humans are weird.

Speaking of weird things—Brian decided to do something truly odd last week. And when I say odd, I mean completely unhinged.

It started with him bursting through the door, practically tripping over his own feet. In his hand was a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. His face was lit up with this manic excitement, like he’d just discovered the secret to immortality or something.

“Oscar!” he said, grinning like a lunatic. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

I tilted my head, ears perked, doing my best What now, human? expression. He tore the package open with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. Inside was… well, I didn’t know what it was. It looked like a gadget from one of those sci-fi shows he loves—small, sleek, covered in blinking lights and wires.

He knelt down to my level, holding the device out like it was a sacred relic. “Okay, bud. This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out. We’re about to do something revolutionary.”

I barked once, a sharp, skeptical sound.

He laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re gonna love it.” He held the device up and fiddled with some buttons. “This little beauty here? It’s going to let us switch places. You’re going to become me, and I’m going to become you.”

I froze. Did he just say…? No. No way. He couldn’t mean—

Brian must’ve noticed my horrified expression because he quickly added, “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. Totally painless!” He paused and then muttered, “Well, mostly painless.”

I barked again, this time louder, more insistent. Brian, what are you doing?

“Relax, Oscar.” He ruffled my fur absentmindedly and pulled a folded letter from his pocket, tossing it onto the table. “That’ll explain everything. You can read it later.”

Read it? I thought, incredulously. I’m a dog, Brian. I can’t—oh. Oh no.

Before I could react, he strapped one end of the device to my head and the other to his own. The straps were snug, and the metal pressed against my fur uncomfortably. I started barking frantically, thrashing to shake it off, but Brian was determined.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said, his voice oddly calm. “Just trust me.”

Trust him? He was about to Frankenstein us into a science experiment! I tried to pull away, but then he pressed a button, and everything went white.

An electric shock surged through my body, like a lightning bolt exploding inside me. I yelped—no, I screamed. The world around me blurred and twisted, the sounds of Brian’s voice and my barking melting into a chaotic whirlwind.

When the light finally faded, I gasped for air, my chest heaving. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. My limbs felt strange—too long, too heavy. I looked down and nearly fainted. Hands. I had hands. Fingers. Thumbs. I touched my face and felt smooth skin where there should have been fur.

I stumbled to my feet—human feet—and looked around. My gaze fell on Brian—or rather, what used to be Brian. Now, sitting where he’d been moments ago, was a dog. Not a border collie like I’d been, but a scruffy-looking mutt with wiry fur and floppy ears.

He was barking like mad, pacing in frantic circles.

“Brian?” I croaked. My voice was strange—deep and raspy. I slapped a hand over my mouth, shocked at the sound.

Brian—Dog Brian—stopped barking and stared at me. His tail wagged hesitantly, and then he barked again, as if to say, What the hell just happened?

I turned back to the table and grabbed the letter with trembling hands. It was addressed to me—well, to “Oscar.”

With a shaky breath, I unfolded it and began to read.

I unfolded the letter and started to read, my new hands shaking slightly.

"Dear Oscar,

I know this is going to sound crazy, but if you’re reading this, then everything worked (kind of, I hope). First, I need to explain something. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the past year. Two jobs, skyrocketing rent, inflation—I’m barely keeping my head above water. It has been rough, man.

I haven’t had a break in so long, and I’m… I’m tired, Oscar. Really tired. I thought about taking a vacation, but that’s impossible when you’re me. Then I found this device online—don’t ask me where. It promised a way to swap places. I thought, hey, why not?

So, here’s the deal: I need you to step into my shoes for a few weeks. Go to work for me, handle the apartment, just… keep things running while I take a much-needed break as a dog. You’ll get to experience life as a human, which has to be interesting for you, right? Win-win!

If something goes wrong or you decide you really don’t want to do this, you’ll have to wait 24 hours before the device can be used again to switch us back.

Thanks for being my best friend, Oscar. I know you’ve got this.

—Brian”

I stared at the letter, my new heart pounding. Then, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me was a man—a tall, broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper-bearded man.

My mind reeled. Brian had clearly thought I’d end up in his body, but that wasn’t what had happened at all. Instead, I was in some completely different human form. And judging by the frantic barking from Dog Brian, this was as much of a shock to him as it was to me.

“Brian!” I said, my voice deep and gravelly. He stopped barking and tilted his head, his floppy ears twitching. “This isn’t what you planned, is it?”

He let out a series of short, high-pitched barks, spinning in a circle. I had no idea what he was trying to say, but his agitation was clear.

I sighed, leaning heavily against the table. “I guess we’re stuck like this for at least a little bit now.”

I turned my attention to back myself in the mirror. My new self. Slowly, I held up my hands, turning them over to examine the calloused palms and long fingers. They were strong and well-defined. My arms were muscular, the veins faintly visible under the skin. I ran a hand over my face, feeling the thick beard and the sharp line of my jaw. My hair was thick, dark with streaks of gray at the temples.

I took a step closer, staring in disbelief. “I… I’m hot?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Holy crap, I didn’t realize humans could look like this.”

Brian—er, Dog Brian—let out a loud, sharp bark, clearly unimpressed with my self-discovery. He pawed at the ground and then sat, glaring at me with the kind of judgment only a dog—or a former human—could muster.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, grinning despite myself. “This is your fault, you know. If you’d done your research, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Brian had always been kind of short and pudgy, with a perpetual look of exhaustion. But this body? This was something else. I was tall, lean, and athletic, with strong hands and long legs. And the beard? Come on. I looked older than Brian—probably because five in dog years is, what, thirty-five in human years? But it suited me.

I flexed my arms experimentally. “I guess being an athletic and handsome dog translates into being an athletic and handsome human,” I said with a smirk.

Brian barked again, this time a low, annoyed growl.

“Relax,” I said, ruffling his wiry fur. “It’s only 24 hours. We’ll figure this out. In the meantime…” I glanced around the apartment, taking in the cluttered mess of dishes, laundry, and takeout boxes. “Looks like I’ve got some time to kill. Maybe I’ll clean up a little. You know, since I’ve got thumbs now.”

Then, I felt a stirring in my groin and thought to myself, "or maybe there's a better use for these hands in the meantime."

[specterllaw]

Mommy or Ma'am? - Mike Ross x Reader / Older Brother Harvey

Summary: After a hospital scare, Mike is put on babysitting duty, which quickly turns into a fun morning for you both

Warnings: SMUT, Switch! reader Switch! Mike

Harvey knew getting Jessica to hire you was a bad idea, he thought he could fully trust you though. You were twenty two it was your first real job, even it was just making copies for everybody in the office when needed.

I was going smoothly for awhile until Monday Morning rolled around, Y/n was on edge because not only did she have tests coming up but she also had sports, work, and helping her older brother Harvey keep his penthouse and office clean and neat. She felt like she was losing it, so whenever she was woken up at 6AM to go to the office she wanted to start crying, she hadn't even been to bed really, only falling asleep twenty minutes before Harvey even woke her up.

You were stuck in the copier room, taking stacks of papers from different associates, and partners and just coping them over and over again. It was working smoothly until you dozed off coping papers and mixed up the order of them, now realizing you messed up very important documents your breathing started to shallow. You heart rate was speeding up and you started to feel dizzy and hot, holding onto the table next to the copier tightly you heard somebody's rushed footsteps approach you all before your eye sight went black. "Woah woah woah" Mike said taking in your unusual state holding you up quickly as your body went limp "Louis! Rachel!" He yelled trying to shake you lightly "C'mon Y/n, wake up" He whispered nervously, not knowing what was going on with you, as he saw Louis walking up to the door he took a breath of relief "Stay here with her, I'm gonna call an ambulance and go get Harvey" Mike said urgently, gently laying you on the ground, using his suit jacket as a cushion under your head, waiting until Louis knelt next to you to try and wake you before rushing through the firm "Donna! call 911! now" He said checking Harvey's office only to see it empty "Mike! Calm down what's going on?" Donna asked worried standing up and resting a hand on his chest "I walked in to get copies from y/n and as soon as I walked in, she fell to the ground- where's Harvey?" He asked quickly before rushing to Jessica's office seeing Harvey sitting in front of her desk. "What do you need, Ross? We're having a very important-" Mike cut Jessica off quickly, and rudely. "Y/n passed out, I don't what happened" He whispered, Harvey looked at Jessica and then Mike "Damnit" he huffed standing up quickly rushing to the copier room right as paramedics were coming up from the elevator and rushing to the same room as him.

Whenever you woke up seeing your room empty made your heart hurt, not even Mike showed up to check on you? What even happened? Right before you could decide on what happened you hear the door latch and in rushes Mike and Harvey fighting on who gets in the room first. "Y/n" Harvey sighed sitting on the side on your bed "Don't ever do whatever you did again" He demanded, thinking he was talking about you messing up the copies and files you started to tear up "I-I'm sorry" You whimpered, terrified you might get fired for all of this "For what? I mean..Whenever you feel worked up..come find me..I understand more than you know, y/n/n" he whispered running a hand over your hair to smooth it out "I get panic attacks too...instead of...blacking out..I puke"He whispered, you studied his face, that explained all the mornings before his trials he'd get sick. "Same goes for you then..come find me" You whispered to him grabbing his hand squeezing it "So what happened?" You added on tilting your head "Exhaustion, y/n" Harvey said sternly "Which means, you're taking the next two days off, to rest, recharge" He said turning his head as Mike coughed awkwardly. "Okay kid, I'll let you speak, but I swear if you try anything with my sister I will kill you" Harvey stated seriously and confidently "Okay okay" Mike grumbled raising his hands up in the air before taking Harvey's seat, Harvey taking a step out into the hallway to call Jessica.

"Mr. Ross" You mumbled, you still felt a little sleepy from whatever they gave you but you were desperate to wake up "Ms. Specter" He quipped back running his hands down his pants legs. "You okay, Mike?" You asked softly sitting up to rest a hand on his shoulder "Y/n..I like you" He whispered "More than a friend, more than a co-worker, and I wanna like you as my girlfriend..but I don't want your brother to kill you" Mike added on resting a hand on yours "How long have you felt like this Mike?" You whispered using your other hand to cup his cheek "Weeks.....You're just..so kind and sassy, and the way you give Harvey shit is just...the proud look you have on your face after you make him speechless is adorable" He rambled "I would have you make copies of random words I had typed up just to see you..that's what I was on my way to do whenever I came into the copier room and found you leaning on the table about to fall.." Mike rambled even farther before you giggled and kissed him deeply

"Can you not shut the hell up Mike?" You mumbled against his lips as he resting a hand on yours, jumping away whenever he heard the door open "Excuse me!" Harvey yelled looking at you both "Care to explain yourselves, children?" He asked crossing his arms like a mother.

You were surprised to see Harvey agree to let Mike stay over, he claimed it was just to 'help you sleep, like you claimed' but you felt like he preferred you not to be home. As you walked into your room you smiled as Mike who was already ready for bed, striped to nothing but his boxers, truth was you and Mike had slept together, a couple of times, you both had agreed it was strictly friends with benefits until just yesterday at the hospital. "Ready for me to help you sleep?" Mike quoted playfully "Yes sir" You giggled climbing onto the bed, straddling Mike's lap as you looked down at him "Ah ah, Princess needs to rest, let me do all the work, baby" he whispered before using his hips and body force to flip you two over to where he was hovering over you.

"Look. At. Me" Mike demanded, you were on your third orgasm now, Harvey was long gone at work now and Mike was spending the day inside of with you, specifically taking turns making each other cum, but now Mike had taken it into his own hands to make you forget your own name, and you were 10000% okay with that. You felt Mike's hand grab your chin forcefully having you look up "I said look at me." He growled as he kept grinding his hips, his dick still buried six and a half inches deep inside of you, you moaned loudly leaning your head further back into the pillows, biting your lip as you made eye contact with Mike, whining and moaning loudly again. You couldn't help it, between his shiny lips from going down on you, to the messy ass hair from you pulling on it, or making the sex drunk look with the lazy smirk as his face as he fucked you into oblivion. "F-Fuck Mike!" You whimpered as he spit forcefully down where his cock entered inside of you before rubbing your clit with two fingers. You couldn't take it, you wanted to scream but you knew your brother would get a noise complaint and he'd know what you two were doing, home alone.

"My slut can take it" Mike whispered in your ear as he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly as he started to thrust his hips alot faster than he previously was "Fuck fuck fuck Mike!" You screamed trying to close your legs but Mike just held them back open, continuing the sweet abuse on your clit, you could feel yourself getting close to the breaking point of cumming again and you knew Mike didn't care. You gasped loudly arching your back as he started fucking you alot faster, the hand around your throat tightening and it just added to your pleasure. "Cum, slut" Mike growled, not letting his hips falter its pace as he watched you cum, the way your face scrunched up, or the way your pussy squeezed around his cock as tight as possible, or maybe it was the fact you were screaming his name while leaving scratch marks all down his back but whatever it was, he wanted to remember it forever. You started to whimper, his cock moving inside of you beginning to become way too much for you to handle "Hold on baby..Use your words, you know what to say to stop, Daddy's so close though" Mike panted as he kept fucking you, his little whimpers were enough to get you wet yet again, but this time it sparked an idea. Once Mike started to pull out you glared at him, giving him a look that says 'you'll regret that' "Keep fucking me, baby" You whispered grabbing his boxer waist band that was tugged down below his cock, using it to pull him back closer, and his cock back deeper inside of you "Keep fucking mommy" You moaned arching your back, Mike whined before rolling onto his back pulling you ontop of him "Fuck keep talking please, you're so fucking hot" He moaned grinding his hips up "So Mike Ross is also a bottom?" You gasped playfully before holding his hips down "In that case, hips down, slut" You demanded before starting to grind and bounce your hips slowly on his lap, moving his cock in and out of you at a slow pace, making Mike try and sit up quickly, once he realized that wasn't happening he attempted to try and speed up your pace by thrusting his hips up but you just grabbed his hair and tugged it back, using the opportunity to leave hickeys down his neck. "F-Fuck Ma'am" Mike whined sitting up holding you close to him before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, swiping his tongue over it along with gently nipping at it, all making you increase the speed you were going. Mike was a whining wiggling mess, desperate to fuck you again and get his pleasure, he hadn't been a bottom since high school when he fucked the popular girl so this was extremely extremely hot for him.

"You wanna fuck me, baby?" You whispered in his ear dragging your nails down his back "Yes. yes yes yes Mommy, ma'am, yes, whatever you want me to call you just please let me fuck you, I wanna make you cum again" He whined trying to move his hips up against you as you lifted your hips up so it was just the tip inside of you. "Then take whats yours, Mike.." You whispered before kissing him deeply, he flipped you again, fucking you alot more erratic and harder, slamming into your pussy like it was the last time he'd ever fuck anybody. "Fuck!" You both shouted, yours more of a moan while Mike's was a full whine. You gasped feeling him cum inside of you, something you weren't expecting considering he had a condom, you couldn't think too much about it as you felt that familiar knot in your stomach snap as you came for the fifth or sixth time that morning.

As Mike pulled out you watched him stare down in horror and shock "Y/n..The condom broke.." He mumbled looking towards you as you were laying down trying to catch your breath.

[yourfavouriterival]

the slow descent from reality (and how to find your way back)

shoko x platonic!fem!reader, gojo x platonic!fem!reader, geto x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: slightly au (not concrete on whether it is canon-compliant), puking, crying, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

note: idk if this is good :( but it came out and this is the first thing i've written in months so do give me criticism

-

There must be something in the air. That must be it, because she must’ve been imagining things. Surely, the two loves of her life were still very much the loves of her life. Surely, her closest and longest friend was still her closest and longest friend. Surely, their choice of school and choice of career hadn’t changed their souls so much that she flinched away from their touch. Surely, she could still stand her three best friends' gaze on her and not need to shrink from them. 

And yet. 

Her best friends—her three only ones—that she couldn’t bear to be away from had suddenly become the only ones she couldn’t bear to be close to. 

It’d all started in the beginning of the colder months. She’d yanked her coat over her thin hoodie and held the sleeves to stop them from rolling up her arm. She’d pulled a hat onto her head, avoiding the mirror to be able to ignore how egg shaped she must’ve looked. She’d double-tied her shoes to keep the cold out. 

She’d even grabbed an extra knife to stuff in her boot. 

And still her hands shook and her heart blistered from the cold. 

How long had she grasped onto this feeling within, trying to breathe it into existence only for it to not matter in the slightest? Years, at this point. How long had she wanted to fight stronger curses, to show how strong she truly was? How long had she longed for the chance to prove herself, to finally protect something that mattered?

Yet this past mission. She might've very well signed her resignation papers on the train ride home. 

Her train compartment had been isolated, just her and the sound of metal on metal as she turned her head away from the windows. Her phone lay silent in her pocket, the headphones she usually wore haphazardly thrown into her shoulder bag alongside the knife she’d stuffed in her boot. 

She’d come home, though. As she walked the steps leading to her dorm room, she thought she might just pass out, not from exhaustion. Every step hurt her lungs, and she felt the world was spinning before her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet, having to support herself on the wall next to the door. 

She’d never felt so weak. 

Her phone buzzed. 

She opened it. 

suggy: me n dumbass r watching lotr. come over

suggy: realising that sounds like a fuck boy dont come over

suggy: i give up. bye. 

suggy: shoko wants u here. i will not fuck u. 

sat on as a child: sugu soooo wants to hit

sat on as a child: ok sorry hope ur mission went well :3

cigarette girl: hello can u bring me a pack i think i left it in ur room

cigarette girl: omg wait how did the mission go!!! ur so professional now

And for some reason, she closed the door and slid down, numb to the feeling of the wood door digging into her back and somehow unable to close her eyes. The room was dark, the candle she had in the corner cold and dry, the light switch on the wall above her seeming to move further and further away from her hand that felt like forty pounds resting on her leg. 

She felt sick. 

-

For two days she couldn’t eat. She avoided Suguru and Satoru’s invitations by saying she had a stomach ache and she avoided Shoko by saying she had plans with the boys. For four days she couldn’t sleep. 

Nausea wracked her body with each breath and her head was spinning even though she hadn’t moved from her pillow for days. Her body felt oily, the idea of taking a shower too hard. 

I failed. I quit. That’s all she wanted to say. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and not see what haunted her mind. 

But if she really quit, what else would she do? Maybe she’d become a doctor, and try to save some lives for once. But why should she try to save people who rarely wish to be saved? Similarly, why was it in her DNA to see curses? Was it not non-sorcerers who should pay the price for their own doings? Should she need to watch yet another child die—

“Oi! Let us in, we’ve got take-out!” 

Satoru was the voice, and two smacks were heard, so that meant Shoko and Suguru were with him. 

But she couldn’t move a muscle. The blankets seemed to consume her, and she might’ve fought against it if she had any energy left to give. But her legs were made of cement and her stomach was filled with glue, sticking her insides together, and hindering her ability to feel her own legs. 

She didn’t want them to come in. She didn’t want them to see her like this. What would they think of her now? Her room was a mess, reflecting a fraction of what her mind was, and her bed looked like someone had fought a war in it. 

“We’re waiting! Hello,” Gojo drawled, voice almost like a melody through the door. 

She kept staring at the wall, curled into herself and breathing much too shallowly. 

“Suguru, you literally have a key. Use it.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is an emergency. I need to sit. My legs are numb,” he whined. Their voices were all muffled and she couldn’t really figure out if it was due to the door between them or how her ears were ringing. 

“Fine,” Suguru groaned, and she heard the sound of the key scraping against the keyhole before the door opened. 

“Your favourite people are here!” yelled Gojo. 

But it was so quiet. 

Her name was called out, or she thinks she heard it. But she didn’t move, only her back facing them. For a moment, she worried about the fresh scars on her back that couldn’t be healed fast enough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

The bed dipped by her legs, and then a hand was placed on her knee over the blanket. The hand was warm, like a furnace under someone's skin, so it had to be Suguru. 

Her name was said again, and the bed dipped twice more—once by her head and lastly by her back. 

“What’s happened?” 

She didn’t speak, but she did start coughing. And then she spoke the first thing she’d spoken in days. “I—I’m gonna throw up,” she warned frantically, and within a second there was a metal bucket by her head where she’d shot up to sit. 

“Go away,” she cried between gags, but all that happened was Shoke pressing a wet towel to her neck and someone rubbing her back. “Please, j—just go away,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes when the gags turned to dry heaving. 

“Not right now,” Satoru said, unusually soft when he took the wet towel from Shoko to wipe around her mouth as she sat up. 

Without a word, Suguru took the bucket and disposed of it and it’s contents in the bathroom attached to her room, and then returned to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “We heard what happened.” 

It just made her cry harder, body so weak that she had to lean against Shoko behind her. “Then you should leave.” 

“Never,” Shoko finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head. 

The tears that fell from her eyes dripped onto her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Suguru promised. “Do they hurt?” She didn’t know what he meant, so she shook her head regardless. “Your back.” 

Oh. Right. The two slashes running across her lower back throbbed at the reminder of their existence. 

“A bit,” she said finally. “I feel… gross.” 

“Then do you want to shower?” 

“Y—yeah,” she said, but when she stood (disregarding that she was only clad in underwear and a t-shirt) her legs buckled beneath her, and she would have crashed to the floor had her three best friends not caught her. 

“Okay, I’m carrying you,” Satoru said, and no sooner than the words left his mouth was she in the air, not without yelling a bit. 

As they entered the bathroom, she realised what a conundrum she was in. Was she to strip naked? Or should she somehow hold herself up—

“Stop thinking so much,” Satoru chastised, and set her down on the closed toilet seat as Suguru and Shoko joined them. “Which one of you wants to? I would but—”

“Yeah, yeah, your six eyes and whatever,” Shoko grumbled, but it was Suguru who took whatever Satoru was holding.

“A blindfold?” she laughed suddenly, even though it tore up her throat to do so, and she lost her breath when Suguru tied it around his head and stood in the shower, arms open. 

“Won’t look. Just here to help,” he said. And then Satoru was guiding her into the shower, and taking Shoko out and closing the door, and then it was just her and Suguru. 

“Sugu,” she said softly. And then she was leaning forward, resting her head on his collarbone and just breathing him in as she reached behind him and turned the water on. She flinched at the coldness first, but leaned back anyway to take off her shirt. “Can’t get my underwear off,” she mumbled, and even with his gentleness of finding her hips and pulling them down, she couldn’t help but feel her face and neck warm. 

“We’ll take care of you.”

-

When Suguru clambered out of the bathroom with his soaking wet clothes to change, he also threw in an oversized shirt and underwear and pants, but as she yanked them on she noticed the smell—Gojo Satoru. 

She remembered, suddenly, buying them. They’d gone to a second-hand store, and Satoru had taken the biggest shirt he could find “just for funsies” and the softest pants, and then proceeded to never wear them. Shoko had complained and offered to take them, but Satoru refused, saying that someday he would want to wear them.

And now she was wearing them and tentatively stepping out of her bathroom to a very clean room. 

“Um—”

“I cleaned!” Satoru yelled. Shoko hit him in the shoulder, and walked towards her to guide both of them into her newly made bed. 

“I cleaned,” Shoko whispered, curling her body around her best friend’s. Then Satoru joined, flopping down next to Shoko whilst Suguru pressed his chest to her back. 

“I know.”

[bookish-bogwitch]

Hello! Thanks for the tag @ivelovedhimthroughworse. I am so so excited for your monstrous spawn to wreak devastation across our screens. And thank you to everyone else who's been tagging me the past month or so while I tumbled inconsistently. I appreciate you.

Here are eight sentences from chapter 7 of Basil Pitch's Diary, which I'll post next Saturday.

Accidental outing not disaster, but opportunity. Father can hardly pretend I’m straight once Snow has alerted entire World of Mages otherwise. Will set proud example as first out member of an Old Family. (Dev doesn’t count.) Will usher in queer golden age.  But if I return to school still single and virginal, even Snow might do the math. Two weeks’ bunny snuggles plus zero other love interests equals one big fat crush on roommate. Very idea makes me want to puke blood of woodland creatures onto duvet.

What will our hero do in the face of this dilemma? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's a really good idea.

More thanks and tags below the cut.

As I wrote before, I skipped an update on this fic because I needed more time to lay track for the ending. Thank you @facewithoutheart and @thewholelemon for your patient help figuring how I'm going to get Baz from points A, B, and C to E. You talked me off the ledge and were so insightful. I'm now confident that I won't stall out writing this thing right after its angstiest chapter, which was a danger. 😂

No-pressure tagging / a friendly hello to @blackberrysummerblog, @alleycat0306, @alexalexinii, @artsyunderstudy , @aristocratic-otter ,

@angelsfalling16 @brilla-brilla-estrellita @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @dragoneggos , @erzbethluna, @emeryhall ,

@fight-surrender @gekkoinapeartree , @ic3-que3n , @ileadacharmedlife , @ionlydrinkhotwater ,

@j-nipper-95 , @larkral , @nausikaaa , @nightimedreamersworld , @martsonmars ,

@messofthejess , @onepintobean , @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 , @pipsqueakparker , @penpanoply ,

@rimeswithpurple , @letraspal , @twokisses , @urban-sith , @valeffelees ,

@wellbelesbian , @whogaveyoupermission , @shrekgogurt @whatevertheweather , @xi-vz ,

@yellobb-old , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe , @comesitintheclover , @iamamythologicalcreature , @imagineacoolusername

@skeedelvee, @youarenevertooold, @paper-beats-writers-block, @stitchyqueer,

[wilwheaton]

Are you doing anything (projects/hobbies) that you wanna share with the blog?

I'm working on a long essay right now that may eventually turn into some kind of talk, maybe part of a book, I'm not sure.

It's loosely organized around seven parts that are linked together by a common thread. I am near the end of what I call the "puke draft" which is how my friend Amy Berg describes the part of writing that is essentially putting all of it onto paper without stopping, judging, rewriting, or anything. You're literally just puking up all the ideas you have into a document that you know you're going to clean up and organize later.

So I'm done puking about 5 or so of the parts, and I'm just making my way through what's left.

Once the puke draft is finished, I usually let it rest for a couple of days, then get into the cleaning up / rewriting. Once all of that is finished, and I have a complete, mostly clean draft, I share it with a couple close friends for feedback. Then I incorporate their feedback into a polish before I hand it off to my agent.

In this case, I have no idea if this thing I'm working on will be commercial or not. I have no idea if my agent will be able to sell it, if anyone will want to publish it, if it can find that sort of audience. If yes, she'll do her thing and at some point I'll have a fun post about how this thing I wrote is going to be publishing soon. If not, I'll release it as one of my many little indie projects, just for the audience that follows me closely enough to be interested.

In my personal life, I just got myself another Arcade1Up, and I'm planning to assemble it today.

[froggybrainz]

I'm thinking about getting into writing again. But I'm probably gonna just do it for myself cause I have alot of world building I want to get to, but I've been stressed about whether or not anybody is gonna like it. Plus, I don't want to end up upset cause my artblock has left me unable to put my ideas on paper, so imma just let my brain puke onto my chrome book and call it fan fiction.-.

[soft-for-yoongi]

Studio Sickness (Namkook)

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

Sick: Jungkook

Caretakers: Namjoon, minor Hoseok and Seokjin

Tw: Emeto, vom*****, mentions of nausea, descriptions of illness

Word count: 1957

(Jungkook suddenly gets sick when visiting Namjoon's studio. He has to take him home and look after him)

Enjoy!!! Sorry about any mistakes!!

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

*knock knock*

"Hey, hyung. I was wondering if you could listen to this melody I've been working on?" Jungkook asks, standing in the doorway to Namjoon's studio. The older is looking particularly comforting in soft sweat pants and a loose fitted tshirt, all grouped nicely with an inviting smile.

"Of course, Kook-ah. Come sit," Namjoon wheels over another chair and positions it next to him. Jungkook wastes no time and plops his laptop on Namjoon's desk. He gives the leader headphones and he presses play.

Jungkook watches Namjoon as he listens to his hard work, getting distracted by a pain forming in his middle. Jungkook frowns slightly, hand skimming across his abdomen. Namjoon is bopping his head, listening intently. But Jungkook's stomach is getting increasingly upset at a rapid rate and he can't come up with a reason as to why.

The youngest gets paler by the second, nausea making itself known and even he's concerned, he was fine earlier? Right? Jungkook feels himself get shaky and goosebumps prickle his skin. He rests his elbows on his knees and lowers his head. Namjoon removes the headphones and turns to face Jungkook. "This is really good Jungko... Hey, you okay?" Namjoon spots Jungkook, who is starting to look a little green.

"Um- I don't know, hyung. I fe- feel.." Jungkook trails off, like he's been punched in the stomach. Namjoon furrows his brows, placing his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, waiting for him to continue. But Jungkook can't get the words out so he covers his mouth and points to the small bin placed near Namjoon's desk.

"You need to puke?" Namjoon fills, swiping up the trash can and placing it in Jungkook's lap. The youngest holds onto it with shaky hands and Namjoon swivels his chair so he can rub the maknae's back. There's paper with scribbles of lyric ideas scrunched up in the bin and Jungkook would hate to throw up all over them.

"How long have you been feeling sick, Kookie?" Namjoon croons, Jungkook swallows the urge to gag. "I was fine earlier hyung, I promise.." Jungkook pants, a string of saliva hanging off his lip. He feels so nauseous. Namjoon gives him a sympathetic look, "Deep breaths, maybe it'll pass." Namjoon suggests.

Jungkook stares blankly into the bin, it's not often his stomach gets upset, he almost forgot how uncomfortable it is to be nauseous. His stomach twists and a quiet burp escapes Jungkook's lips. "Sorry.." Jungkook breaths out, certain he's about to throw up. "Don't be sorry, babe." Namjoon comforts, his large hand gracing Jungkook's back does make him feel better.

"Oooh—hyung..." Jungkook moans and shudders with an intense wave, he can't tell if he wants to throw up or try ride it out. "I don't want to be sick.." Jungkook murmurs into the bin. "I know Kookie but if something's wrong we need to get it out of you." Namjoon replies, lightly patting Jungkook's upper back.

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose, but it must've gotten caught because he ends up coughing with a fist to his mouth. A cough morphs into a gag, bringing up saliva that he spits out. Namjoon does a double take of the trash can to see if he actually threw up, frowning when it's still clean.

Jungkook tastes vomit in the back of his throat and that alone is strong enough for him to gag again, bringing up a mouthful of puke that splatters into the bin. "There we go.. you got it." Namjoon comforts, slightly alarmed that Jungkook can get so sick in such a short amount of time.

Jungkook's stomach aches and clenches, prompting more torrents to land in the trash can. His chest burns and the smell is starting to do numbers on him, making him feel even more poorly. His cheeks are burning a light crimson because his leader has to see him like this. "Y-you don't—hrrpph—have to s-stay-" Jungkook coughs out between gags.

"Don't say that Kookie, I'm staying. Our maknae needs taking care of, no need to be embarrassed." Namjoon smiles softly, raking fingers through Jungkook's hair. The youngest heaves again, productively emptying whatever he's eaten today. Tears from exertion sit in the corners of Jungkook's eyes, shining and making him look even younger than he actually is.

Namjoon recalls the many times bts have been hit with some sort of stomach illness, contagious or not, he's grown to be unphased by vomiting. But for Jungkook to be the one throwing up—it's rare. So you can't blame Namjoon for being surprised to say the least.

Jungkook's retching tapers off into bile and eventually he's left spitting out thick strings of saliva. "Think you're all done, Kook?" Namjoon rubs the latter's back. "I think so. My stomach still feels a bit funny.." Jungkook comments, moving the bin to the floor and lifting the edges of the plastic lining to cover up the mess of the contents.

Namjoon tuts, "I can ask Jinnie if he'll make you some soup? It might settle your belly some." Namjoon suggests, noticing the strained nod he receives. "Let's call it a day, Kookie."

The two of them are taken home by a manager (after cleaning the bin of course) and Jungkook rests his head on Namjoon's shoulder the whole ride back. He's still looking pale and Namjoon suspects that the car ride made his 'funny tummy' get a little more unsettled.

Namjoon has Jungkook walk close to him as they reach their dorm, even helping him take his shoes off and put his stuff down. The two are met with Seokjin and Hoseok on the living room couch, watching a drama together. "Hey Jinnie, hey Hobi." Namjoon greets. "Hi hyungs." Jungkook says, voice quieter and noticeably tired sounding.

"Hey you're both back a little earlier. I made some jjigae, there's some leftovers in the kitchen if you'd like." Seokjin smiles, "or you can watch this new drama with us too," Hoseok grins. Namjoon shows dimples, glancing at Jungkook on his side. "Jungkook-ah, how about you sit with Hobi and I'll grab us some food with Jin-hyung?" Namjoon says, fairly confident Jungkook is a little shy about these things, even if it is just them.

Seokjin does a double take on Jungkook, noticing the youngest's pale features and sad eyes. The eldest and leader make their way to the kitchen, Namjoon turning to the older once out of sight. "Everything okay Namjoon-ah?" Seokjin butts before Namjoon can open his mouth.

"Uh.. sort of? It's Jungkookie, he came to my studio and I was looking over his work, but then he started feeling super nauseous and was throwing up—I was wondering if you could help make him a light soup?" Namjoon explains, a worried crease on his forehead. Seokjin blinks at the leader, "of course, Joon. Poor Kookie... do you think he's coming down with something? He didn't have a fever or anything did he?" Seokjin cringes at the thought of more members throwing up because of a virus.

"I think something just isn't agreeing with him, he didn't have a fever." Namjoon replies. The two are in mid thought when they hear a splatter, both of them cross their fingers that it's just some water that's been spilt but their hopes and dreams get crushed when Hoseok gives a surprised yelp.

The two rush back in the living room to see poor Jungkook in tears, puke dripping down his chin and a small puddle on the hard wood floors in front of him. "Aigoo, Jungkookie. Oh baby, is there more or are you all done?" Hoseok comforts while Seokjin leaves quickly and comes back with some wipes, paper towels and a bowl. Hoseok looks at Namjoon for answers, the poor dancer is a little confused at the sudden turn of events.

Jungkook is unable to contain his tears, though he makes an effort to dry his watery eyes. "Kookie, let's move over a little, shall we?" Namjoon aids Hoseok in guiding Jungkook to a different spot on the couch, away from the mess. Seokjin passes the bowl to Hoseok, and Namjoon takes a tissue to clear any residue around Jungkook's mouth. Meeting the leader's gaze, Jungkook's sad eyes prompt Namjoon to offer reassurance with a smile.

Hoseok is slowly rubbing Jungkook's back and keeping the bowl steady. Seokjin keeps a neutral face while cleaning up the puddle, it's only when he hears Jungkook gag that he frowns. Namjoon's hand retracts at the sudden lurch but then quickly he's saying quiet affirmations. "Mm, you're still feeling pretty icky, huh Kook?" "It's alright, just do what you gotta do." Namjoon assures.

Jungkook's head dives into the bowl when he gives another productive heave and his stomach still churns unhappily. "I'm s-sorry H-Hobi-hyung.. I didn' mean to–" Jungkook cries, back arching with another round of puke. "Ayy, Kookie. Oh Jungkookie~ don't be sorry! You can't help it baby." Hoseok coos, ruffling the maknae's long locks.

Jungkook throws up again, mostly water and bile but it still burns his throat. He's got running tears down his cheeks but they've slowed some. Seokjin has skilfully made the floors look untouched again and Namjoon is comforting Jungkook. "Tummy feeling better, Jungkook?" Namjoon asks, actively wiping away some of the younger's tears.

"Mhm, I think so.." Jungkook replies, sniffling and trying not to look at the bowl set in front of him. He looks guiltily at Seokjin, still cleaning up after him. Seokjin makes eye contact with Jungkook and his heart breaks but he flashes a handsome smile. "Ay it's okay Jungkookie, I'm used to this. You don't want to know how many times I have to clean up after sick Jiminie." Seokjin says, "poor thing has a sensitive tummy."

Jungkook feels a little better at that and Hoseok rubbing his back is making him feel more settled. "Here let me take this, and Hoba can take you to your room." Namjoon takes the bowl, knowing Hoseok can get squimish. Jungkook nods and wraps an arm around Hoseok's shoulder. "Come on Jungkookie, slow steps." The older supports him and slowly takes Jungkook to his room.

Jungkook is an unmoving corpse once he makes contact with his bed. Hoseok can't help but giggle at the sight. The youngest is laying on his belly, head barely on his pillow and almost half asleep already. Hoseok taps him on the bum playfully and Seokjin comes in just in time to see the endearing sight. "Get some rest Jungkook-ah, I'll send Namjoon in here. He got quite worried about you." Seokjin hums, not minding that Jungkook is practically in dream land.

"So Jungkook was sick before when he was with Joon-ah?" Hoseok asks, "yeah, they were in Namjoonie's studio and Jungkook just started feeling really bad. Poor thing." Seokjin explains, "we should give him some medicine once he's rested up a little more. No point if he might..... again." Seokjin makes a vomiting gesture and Hoseok nods in agreement.

Namjoon enters after a few minutes, clean bowl in hand. "He's asleep already?" He questions, placing the dish on the nightstand. "Yep, he should be. Gosh he's had a rough time today.. Jin-hyung told me what happened." Hoseok says, bottom lip jutted out in worry.

"Joonie could you stay with him? You need a break from the studio anyways. He seems pretty attached to you too," Seokjin smiles. Namjoon's ears go a little pink but he climbs into Jungkook's bed nonetheless. Who can resist their youngest anyway? "Seokie and I will leave you two be, let me know if things go downhill or he wakes up." Seokjin locks arms with Hoseok, blowing a kiss on his way out.

[antigonenikk]

Find the Word

got tagged by the elite mutual @chirpybirdy

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word).

Words: letter, add, lung, bus, lead.

letter:

(from liebgott x f!oc fic)

They stopped after letter 60. In the Spring of 1945 they stopped. One month before V-E Day. Birdie held the last letter in her hands, tearing at the edges. Four months ago now. 

The last one read:

Dove. 

I don’t know how to tell you. Don’t wait for me. I won’t be coming home. The world we live in is beyond cruelty. 

There was no sign off. But she could read his handwriting in the dark. Still. Like a fool she took the train from Atlanta to New York and waited at the docks for him on the day of his expected arrival. She has no idea how he did it. But he never showed. She saw the rest of his company. She even saw Margie’s Ron. But no Joe.

add:

(no snippet for this one. random on the fly poem instead)

I add, and add, and stack.

Her soft tread, and small feet

make indents in the sodden earth.

The shadow presses back.

lung:

(from f!Eugene/Leckie au fic)

Sid, as the night wore on, kept shooting them very ugly looks, which Genie did not appreciate.

In his defense, he had a right to be jealous for her attention, since it was their first shared birthday party away from home. Hoping to appease him, she tried to include him in the conversation. But every time she turned to ask Sidney something Leckie somehow drew her attention back into his orbit. His wide blue eyes, so much like her old babydoll's that Sid had broken when they were children, sparkling with glee.

Soon talking had turned to dancing, and Genie, four beers in, had forgotten why she was out in the first place. Leckie whirled her about the room. He wasn’t a great dancer, but he made up for his lack of technique with enthusiasm. And anyways, she was a real dead hoofer herself, so she had no room to complain.

Sweaty and giggling, unable to catch her breath, lungs aching, they left the makeshift dance floor, only to find that their friends had all abandoned them.

bus:

(from the modern!au eugene/snafu fent addict fic)

Gene is sorting through his textbooks. He can’t see out of his left eye. It’s completely swollen shut. A smaller body sidles up to him, leaning against the cool, worn blue rows of lockers. 

He looks over and sees that it’s Shelton. Snafu. Situation-Normal-All-Fucked-Up. He got the name from Burgie. Back in eighth grade when he snorted a line of coke in the back of the school bus on the way to the annual DC field trip and then immediately puked up bile onto the seat in front of him. Back then Burgie and Snafu had still been childhood best friends, so he had been in the splash zone so to speak. This was before he started running track with Gene and Bill and fell in with them instead. 

He had shouted with disgust, and declared his friend was acting completely and utterly fucked in the head. Robert Leckie, pretentious asshole extraordinaire, sitting a row in front, had turned in his seat and with his dumbass smirk had said, “So, then, he’s acting like his normal self?” 

Burgie, still livid about the whole thing, turned to Shelton and told him, “Yeah. A real fucking Snafu.”

After that it just sort of stuck.

lead:

(from me and @guarnerepdf 's lovingly deranged french partisan BoB fic)

Friedrich had tried to insist that as lead for the mission, he should hold all the papers himself. But Isabella had argued incessantly that it would be odd for a man to be holding his brother-in-law’s identification. He could not find a reasonable rebuttal to her and had given up trying to express the deep dread he was feeling about this entire thing. No one was listening to him anyhow. Not the Commander, not Isabella, and frustratingly, not Pleun. Pleun was meant to always be on his side. But somehow, they all had been convinced that it was possible to get Andrews back to England. That they would be able to get away with it. 

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Brothers

whumptober23 day 13- cold compress fandom- batman TW- sickness summary- Tim is definitely not sick. Jason disagrees.

ao3 whumptober23 masterlist

Tim feels absolutely awful. His head is pounding and he can’t even look at his computer screen to try and work through a case. Currently, he’s squinting at paper file about the latest suspicious shipments, but the words keep swimming in his head.

Maybe he should drink some coffee. Yup. That will definitely help. He stands up from his couch and manages two steps before dizziness overtakes him and he ends up on the floor. 

He groans and tries to push himself up but his arms tremble.

Whatever, the floor is pretty comfy anyway. But coffee. He tries to push himself up again. He can’t be weak. He can’t afford to be. He has to go on patrol tonight.

Which means he needs to be awake enough for it. So coffee. He manages to get up and stumble to the kitchen.

He’s in the middle of trying to steady his hand so he can pour the coffee grounds into the coffee maker when he hears his window slide open. He startles, dropping the coffee grounds which spill over the floor. He’s about to be sad about that, but then the vertigo from spinning around hits and he has to grip the counter to stay upright while fighting back nausea.

“Hey, Timberlina, I’m here to grab some files.”

It’s Jason.

Tim can’t help but feel annoyed. Jason has his own files. He doesn't need to steal Tim’s. But he doesn't want to open his mouth to say any of this because if he does he’s afraid he’s going to throw up.

“Tim?” Jason pokes his head into the kitchen, sees him catalog the dropped coffee and Tim who has a white knuckled grip on the counter to keep himself from falling over. “Shit, Tim. What’s wrong with you?”

Tim wants to give him the middle finger, but holding on to the counter is the only thing keeping him upright. So, he settles for scowling aggressively, but Jason just snorts.

Tim opens his mouth to tell Jason to get out, but immediately shuts it again as the nausea intensifies. He sways slightly before tightening his grip on the counter.

And wow, he should really be more aware of his surrounding because suddenly Jason’s in front of him reaching a hand out toward Tim’s head. He flinches back.

“Calm down, Timberly, I’m checking if you have a fever.

“I’m not sick.” Tim says through gritted teeth.

“Sure you aren’t.” Jason says but his hand is now on Tim’s forehead and he’s scowling. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.” the nausea has subsided slightly, but Tim still feels dizzy.

Jason doesn’t dignify that with a response. Then he sighs. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

“I said–”

“You’re fine. I know. Which means you’re perfectly well enough to clean up the coffee grounds.”

Tim gulped, glancing down at the mess. The idea of having to bend down made the nausea spike.

“That’s what I thought. Now either you go lay down on your own, or I’ll carry you.”

“I–” 

Jason raised an eyebrow.

Tim took a slow breath and let go of the counter. He hadn’t even managed it one step before a wave vertigo overtook him and he felt his legs give out. He expects to hit the ground, but instead strong arms catch him and pick him up. Tim looks up into Jason’s face, but he’s not looking at him.

Jason walks quickly and Tim is promptly deposited onto his bed. Jason exits his bedroom and Tim wonders if Jason’s has left. But a moment later, Jason walks back in carrying a bowl, a cup with water, and a cold compress. 

“What…” Tim starts, but doesn’t know how to continue.

Jason sets the cup down on the bedside table, lifts the bowl saying, “If you need to puke,” before setting it by the bed. Then he lays the cold compress across Tim’s forehead and Tim sighs in relief. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep.” Jason says and turns to go.

“Wait–” 

Jason pauses.

And Tim really must be sick because he continues. “Please don’t go.”

Jason doesn’t move and Tim resigns himself to Jason leaving. But after a moment Jason sighs, going to sit down in an armchair in the corner of the room. “Fine. But you better get some sleep.” Then, out of one of his cargo pants pockets, Jason pulls out a small book.

Tim opens his mouth to tease him, but shuts his mouth as Jason starts to read outloud.

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

And as Jason continued to read, Tim fell asleep.

[this-is-all-unreal]

My dear Friend

Part 10

Masterlist

No real warnings just a little spooky part. The rest of it is going to a mostly fluff. A fun idea I had about The Batfam going camping. I hope you all still enjoy it!

     The next morning was pretty standard. Breakfast was served and we all ate in mostly silence aside from the occasional sidebar conversation. Once almost everyone was done eating. Bruce told us all to stay seated. That he had something he wanted to say. 

       "I wanted to reward you all for your hard work and dedication so I have arranged for us all to go on a little family trip." He hardly finished his sentence before Tim and Dick high fived over the table. 

       "Alright! Are we going to Hawaii, maybe the Bahamas?" Dick asked as he leaned back in his seat with a big smile.

      "No, not that kind of trip. We are going outside of Gotham city limits to go camping. I figured it would be a good chance to brush up on some survival techniques." You could feel the excitement leave the air. There was a collective sigh. 

       "In what world is being away from my computer a reward?" Tim asked as he pushed his plate away. 

       "Yeah for once I'm with Tim. This is gonna blow, Bruce." Jason adds. 

      "You boys will have fun. Look, you don't see Margaret complaining." Bruce says as gestures to me down the table. 

       "Hmm? Oh I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention." It was a lie I realize but I didn't want to have to tell him how horrible this Idea sounded. He seemed happy about it. Jason laughed a little and stood up from the table.

       "You guys have fun playing boy scouts in the woods. I'll be protecting the city while you're gone old man." 

      "Fake a stomach ache. I can make you puke if he doesn't buy it." Felix interjected. It never came up before now but I guess he hates camping too.

       "I have already made arrangements for The Flash to do a few run throughs. This is a mandatory trip. Everyone is going, even Alfred." Alfred who had just walked in, eyes widened in surprise. 

       "I have to come as well Master Bruce? Oh goody." He says as he starts picking up the plates. 

       "Everyone go pack, no more than one backpack. Margaret stick around. I have something for you." Bruce says as he helps Alfred put the plates onto the serving tray.

      "Now's your chance quick tell him you don't feel well. You'll be a hero to the guys." Once everyone leaves Bruce gets up and reaches up in a tall cabinet and pulls out a gift wrapped in dark green and gold paper

       "Your birthday had passed by the time I met you so this is for you." He said as he handed me the gift. 

       "You didn't have to. I really appreciate it though." I say with a wide smile 

      "You haven't even opened it yet. don't say you appreciate it."

   Ignoring my friend I carefully unwrapped the box and opened it and inside was a stuffed animal of a turtle. He was so soft and his legs were filled with beads giving him some weight. 

      "You seemed to like the turtle figurine so I figured you'd like a bigger, softer one." Bruce said as he picked up the toy and handed it to me. I hug it close and can't help but grin. 

     "What does he think you are five?"

      "I love him, thank you!" I say as I stand up and hug Bruce. He was back to his normal unaffectionate self because he just patted me on the back and took a step away. 

      "Don't mention it, go get packed." I ran upstairs and pulled out a book bag Tim had given to me. I packed some clothes and a blanket. Of course I packed my new turtle who I still need to name. 

      "Don't bring that thing. The guys are gonna make fun of you."

       "No they won't. I want to bring it. He's cute." I say as I zip my bag. 

      I grabbed a few bottles of water and got in the van with everyone else. It was strange seeing everyone in such informal clothes. I don't think I have ever seen Alfred's knees. 

      Bruce was driving and Alfred was his copilot. We hadn't even gotten to the camp grounds and Alfred had already had us all put sunscreen on. Jason and Dick sat in the front row of the back seats and Tim and I had the farthest back seats. The ride was a little longer than I had liked but eventually we made it. We were surrounded by woods on all sides. There was a small building with stalls and toilets and sinks but no showers. Aside from that there was nothing. 

   The tents seemed easy enough to set up. Bruce and Jason could build a tent faster than I had ever seen. Dick and Alfred started on building a fire and Tim and I went looking for things we all could eat. He had a book full of local plants. He marked a few that looked less gross than all the others and the search was on. 

      "This looks like this thing we can eat but it also looks like this other thing that could give us a parasite so I think I will just leave it alone. How are you doing?" Tim asked as he walked over to me. Felix and I were picking berries from a tall bush. 

      "Alright you found mulberries! Here put them in this." He said as he sat a bucket down. It was like Felix was born to pick berries. He was dropping double the berries I was in the bucket. Tim came back with a few mushrooms he was 100% sure wouldn't give us all diarrhea and we headed back. The tents were in a circle around the fire and Jason had put a wire around the circle of tents. 

    "There we go. This way if anyone sneaks up on us we will know." He says proudly putting his hands on his hips.

     "Take that thing down, you are going to trip up a raccoon or something." Dick said as he grabbed one of the steaks in the ground that had the wire tied to it. The two squabbled over the wire as Bruce was roasting some hotdogs for everyone. Alfred took the berries and mushrooms to the restroom to wash them up. Meanwhile Tim crawled into his tent and pulled out his phone. 

     It was starting to get dark and everyone was still doing their own things while Alfred and Bruce fixed up some dinner. 

    I was sitting in a folding chair just staring off when I saw baby deer wobbling into view from the tree line.it couldn't be very old. I stood up and tried to get one of the guys attention but everyone was too busy and shooed me off. The baby deer seemed very interested in our camp so I slowly walked over to it. As soon as I got about six feet from it, it ran off. I followed the fawn wanting to see if I could find its mom. 

       "Careful Margaret. I can't see camp." I ignored him as I continued to chase this fawn who finally stopped In a clearing. I slow down and stand still looking at it. Their eyes are so big and dark. I slowly took a step closer and to my surprise it didn't run. I reached out my hand and petted its head. 

       "Don't touch it, it could have a disease or something."

        "It likes me, Felix look." I whisper. The deer didn't seem to be too afraid of Me. 

       "Oh look now you've done it. It's mom's here." I look around and see an older deer creep out from behind some trees. I pull my hand away and the fawn wobbles to its mom who licks its head. 

      "Here mommy deer. Can I pet you too?" I say as I kneel down trying to make myself seem as small as possible. She was even prettier than her baby. The mother stands her ground and just stares into my eyes. I looked past her and realized how dark it had gotten. Just as I looked away I heard a blood curdling scream making the deer run away. I stood up and looked around for the source but it had gotten so dark I could hardly see a few feet in front of my face. 

       "Felix? What was that?"

      "No clue but I don't want to stick around to find out." He said as he grabbed my hand and started to lead me through the woods. After a few minutes he lets go of my hand. "Don't freak out but we are lost."

       "What! How can we be lost? You never get lost!"

       "I said don't freak out! I'm going to fly up and see if I can see camp from the air."

       "Don't leave me!" I shouted but he was already gone. I looked around for a second then sat on a stump. I shouldn't  have chased that deer. I heard a twig snap so I looked up. I didn't see anything at first, making me assume it was Felix till I saw the big shiny black eyes of one of the deer looking back at me. It seemed to be peeking around from behind a tree.

      "Hey girl, is that mommy or baby deer?" I ask as I stand up to get a better view. 

       "Neither." An unfamiliar voice says.

Frozen with fear I stood there as the eyes looking right into my soul, seemed to levitate in the darkness. 

      "What are you?" I ask as I finally manage to speak.

The would-be deer steps closer into my field of vision but still seems to be hiding behind a thin tree. It was tall but hunching over. I could make out a long face almost like a deer's but it was only bone. The body was all black and almost blended into the darkness behind its form. Its limbs were long and thin, not unlike a spider's.

       "I'm daddy deer." It said as it wrapped it's arm around the tree it was standing behind. 

       "You're not real. I know this trick. I go running back to the camp and sound like a crazy person." 

        "But they all already know you are crazy." It spoke so slowly leaving me desperately anticipating every word.

       "All the same, just leave me alone! I'm not scared of you!" I screamed at it.

      "Liar liar pants on fire." It hummed. "Wanna hear a secret?" It asked me. The words rang in my ears. It's what the news lady said to me. I shook my head and turned my back to the creature. It laughed as twigs crunched behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as it reached me. A hand fell on my shoulder and I turned around and slapped whatever it was as hard as I could. 

       "Ow Margaret!" A very confused Dick says as he holds his face. "I was talking to you and you ignore me now you're hitting me?" I looked past him and saw nothing but very dimly lit trees. 

       "You scared me. I'm sorry." I say sheepishly. 

       "I scared you? You are the one standing in the dark woods looking like an extra from The Blair Witch project or something." He said with a laugh. "Let's get going. Felix led me to you. He's a pretty useful little guy." He added as we started to walk back. I wondered if Dick thought Felix was a child like me. I never wanted to correct him though because hearing him talk about Felix like that always made me laugh.

      "He was the only one who didn't question it when I held their hand."

If Felix was with them then he couldn't have been the thing in the woods. I got goosebumps thinking about it. "What's wrong? You look pale."

       "Don't worry about it." I say softly. 

       "Hmm?" 

       "Sorry I'm talking to Felix." I say as we reach the camp. Bruce stood up and put his hands on his hips. 

        "I got lost." I say softly looking up at him. 

        "Your dinner is cold. Where did you go?" He asks as he starts making up a plate of cold food. 

       "I saw a deer and followed it. Then Felix and I started talking and lost track of time." I lied to him again but It was better than saying I saw a big creepy deer thing. Felix gave me a little shove probably because I pulled him into my lie. 

    "You were gone for hours. That's all you did?" Jason chimed in.

    "Hours? No I wasn't gone that long was I?" 

    "They all went out looking for you. I was ready to call for backup." Tim said as he sat on his phone still. 

       "That's weird. It didn't even feel like an hour." He was right, it didn't. 

      The rest of the evening passed by. I had my dinner meanwhile Jason and Alfred took turns reading out loud from some old poetry books. The evening was winding down and everyone crawled onto their own tents. Everyone had their own aside from Bruce and Alfred who shared the biggest one. 

      Getting into my sleeping bag was the easy part now I had to try and sleep. My new turtle friend was held tightly in my arms. I didn't think I'd be so afraid. Every sound was the creature in my mind. Every sound was something dangerous ready to pounce on my tent. Finally I couldn't take it.

       I got up and walked over to Tim's tent. To see if he was awake still. The jerk had put some kind of lock on the inside of his zipper. I moved onto the next one. I opened the extra large tent and crawled in. I didn't think Bruce or Alfred would mind if I slept in here. It wasn't five minutes before I couldn't take their unified snoring anymore. I moved down the line to Jason's tent. As soon as I opened the tent he shot up and looked at me. 

      "Can I sleep in here? I'm kinda scared." I admit as I get in. 

      "Sure if you want. And don't worry I brought this so don't be scared about any Intruders." He said as he pulled out a gun from his sleeping bag. 

     "Oh good Margaret, Jason has a gun. You must feel really safe now."

     "Are you sleeping with a gun?!" 

     "Well I'm not going to leave  a loaded gun in my bag now am I? That would be dangerous." He said as he laid back down and put his gun under his sweater he was using as a pillow. 

      "Nevermind, I changed my mind." I say as I get out. 

      "Suit yourself. You'll be thanking me for bringing this bad boy if a bear shows up." He said before closing his eyes again. I close his tent up and move to the last one, Dick's tent.

      "Great you guys can cuddle while he cracks some dad jokes."

      "Stop it, he's just a big softy. You shouldn't make fun of him like that." I say as I reach the last tent. I get in and Dick murmurs a little and opens one eye. Seeing it is just me. He rolls over and goes back to sleep. 

      Sleeping here was much easier than I thought. Morning came quickly and we all packed up. After a small breakfast we were on the road again. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the manor. 

Hey there! I'm going to try to do daily post but if I don't just assume a new part will be up the day after. I'm having alot of fun writing I hope you guys are enjoying the story. 😊

[thesandsofelsweyr]

Nobody had ask death and resurrection? Too bad, it's *very* JT title

(from WIP Ask Game)

Glad you asked because this may be by most twisted fic of all 😈 This is where I explore what happens after Jay wakes up from getting shot by Joker, how he expects to be dead but is very much alive for more torture. I previously shared some Joker Jay "banter" (😁) from this fic (first excerpt below the cut) but here's even more for you. Nothing too twisted since I don't want to spoil anything, hehehe

(Note that my Arkhamverse canon follows BAK: Annual, where Joker shot Jay in the head instead of the chest 🙃)

This had to be the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. He felt like a train hit him. Twice. Then dragged him down the tracks with it for miles. Why’d he let Nate talk him into going to that stupid party? Why’d he ever think it was a good idea to take not one but many shots of vodka? Fucking Russians. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked up at the blurry, spinning ceiling. Wait… this wasn’t his bedroom. He blinked again, and heard his eyes moving in his pounding skull. The awful sensation made him want to puke. And what the hell was that ringing?? He tried to reach up and touch the side of his head where the awful pain seemed to be radiating…

No…

A cold fist of horror wrapped around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. The ringing clawed at the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He tugged at his hand again, but it was no use. No no no. Both wrists were cuffed to the metal frame of the hospital bed.

“No,” he whimpered. Blood pounding through his ears as it all came rushing back to him like a tidal wave. He shot me. I was dead. He killed me. “No-no-no-no-no,” he cried as he frantically fought to wrench his wrists from the unrelenting steel of the cuffs. Metal scraped against metal, setting his broken teeth on edge. “No-no-no-no-no!”

He yanked at his hands with all of his remaining strength, trying to force them out of the cuffs. The metal bit into his flesh, peeling it away from his scrawny wrists. The bones in his hand shifted painfully beneath his paper-thin skin, but he barely noticed. He couldn’t care less if they broke again. He can’t stay here. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be done with this place, this nightmare. He was supposed to be burning in hell right now.

“You shot me!”

“And it’s a good thing I missed! A teensy-weensy bit to the left and you’d have a new pair of wings, fighting the good fight with the big man in the sky.”

“Why couldn’t you just let me die? What more do you want from me?”

“Jeez. How many times do I hafta beat it into that thick skull of yours? You’re my partner!”

“You don’t shoot your partner in the fucking head!” Jason let his body fall back onto the gurney.

“You got me there, junior,” Joker giggled. “But you were about to divulge an intimate detail about my dearest friend that I don’t think he would’ve appreciated you sharing. I was only looking out for my pointy-eared pal.”

“Then why did you even ask me, you psycho?”

“I wanted to see where your loyalties lie. And let me tell ya, you made me one proud papa! I think I shed a single tear when I thought you were a goner.”

“Seems like I’m really fucking great at staying alive,” he grumbled.

“That’s the spirit! Even though you fail at every other aspect of your sad little life, you can always count on sticking around for more beatings! Now that’s a quality I can appreciate in my sidekick.”

…

“Welp, no use crying over spilled brain matter when we still have training to do! Time’s a wastin’!”

[vohunara]

it's nothing new that the scribe may, sometimes, drop unannounced at the door of his housemate. in fact, most of the times when it happens, it's to deposit a neat bag of freshly cut fruit after a knock, or simply to crack the door open in a chance that the blond may be bothered with Al-Haitham's nonsense.

it usually doesn't happen at around an ungodly hour in the morning, where people should be sleeping. Al-Haitham doesn't even announce himself with a knock, barely prying the door open before it slips out of his grasp.

' kaveh? '

a quiet call of his friend's name as he steps into the light barely dimming the room. from the little crack of the door, what can be seen is matted, sweaty hair, and a sliver of pale skin where healthy color should be on the young man's face. fire-ringed eyes blearily blink away sleep and a wetness that isn't present.

he reveals his problem almost bashfully, but matter-of-factly regardless:

' ...i puked. '

     Deep into the night is where Kaveh musters enough of himself to do anything he deems worth. Ideas ebb and flow when the pressure of living through the day eases off his shoulders, when it's simple and there's no expectations. In the end, it's just him, his tools and his books.

     He toes out of his room every now and then, careful not to exceed in volume, exist too loudly and disturb another. He rummages around the bookshelves in the main room and even those by the door to Haitham's space, intent on finding notes relevant to his current work. When he's back to his chair, one hand immediately keeps the right pages from closing in on themselves, and the other puts ink to paper.

     Kaveh, the calling is almost too meek to hear amidst the architect's intense focus, but it also reverberates with a timbre he wouldn't, at all, pin to such descriptor. ‘ Haitham? ʼ It's only after returning the call that Kaveh realizes he's reflected it.

     The upper half of his body turns in his seat, an arm supported against the backrest as Kaveh observes and waits. It doesn't require much to notice something is wrong and, thusly, does his stance not last as it is. The desk is abandoned in favor of the other, everything left behind as if no deadline had been looming over the blond — when al Haitham, of all people, seeks out help for his sickness, everything else diminishes in importance until they're but a detail too small to care.

     ‘ Oh, my... how are you feeling now? Was it something you ate? ʼ Fingers, still smudged with graphite, feel all over the Scribe's forehead and side of neck. They study his condition, and, as Kaveh wipes beads of sweat threatening to roll down the other's temple, he concludes. ‘ God, you have a fever! ʼ

     Any and all rights to protest are revoked. The tools once scattered on the mattress are pushed to the floor haphazardly and al Haitham is, soon, carefully ushered onto the bed, among Kaveh's covers and pillows. ‘ Stay here, ginger tea may help with your nausea. ʼ

[kingdomof-omens]

Having an idea for a fic is awesome until you go to write it, but you have no idea how to put the words down.

My current draft looks like my brain is puking random nonsense onto paper.

"(describe [this item] like I would to a 2 year old)"

"She sits at the [dinner? oak? that other wood?] table"

"He needs [synonym for 'supplies'] for (describe task)"

"[whatever the fuck this thingy is called] is in her hand"

[randomheadcanons]

A little lore, as a treat

Zarrus wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, just that he had to find something. Something had to be in this office that proved his hunch correct. The majority of him hoped he was right; that there was a reason he was in Laban’s office, snooping. Another, smaller part, hoped that he was wrong. He had hoped that the letter he found two years ago had been, somehow, a figment of his imagination. That Laban actually had no idea what he was talking about when he brought his accusation to the High Priest.

The letter. The letter that Zarrus stupidly didn’t hold onto after the investigation was complete. He’s not sure what happened to it. The only evidence that he had the Illness wasn’t dealt with in a timely manner. Zarrus kicked his younger self for not keeping it after Labon’s ordination into Cardinal.

Since that day, Laban and Zarrus’s relationship had been…tenuous at best, and aggravated at worst. Zarrus still wasn’t ordained, but he was close. Maybe when he was a Priest he would have more sway; he would buy his time, gather more evidence that maybe he couldn’t reach as a monkling and–

“Tremain.”

A cool voice rocketed Zarrus out of his thoughts. His head jolted up, papers in hand.

Zarrus immediately recognized that this was not a good look.

“Cardinal Laban I-”

Laban held up a hand in silence. “What, pray tell, are you doing in here?”

Zarrus remained silent, clenching his jaw. It was clear what he was doing. He knew it, and he knew that Laban knew it.

“I see.” Laban said with a slow nod, steepling his fingers together, that, misinterpreted, could qualify as threatening. “You know,” he continued, walking through the office until he was leaning over his own desk, “Snooping through a Cardinal’s private office is frowned upon by the conclave.” He paused, waiting for Zarrus to continue. When he didn’t, Laban pressed, “What were you looking for, Zarrus?”

Zarrus met Laban’s eyes with his own. Laban’s mouth pressed into a thin smile of acknowledgement.

“I see.” He said simply, straightening up. He waved his hand dismissively. “Get out.”

Zarrus swallowed before walking around the desk to the door. “Yes, Cardinal,” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh,” Laban continued, turning around to look at Zarrus. “Not of my office. Of the temple.”

Zarrus’s eyes widened while Laban’s shined with something that Zarrus couldn’t name. Hatred? Pleasure? Vindication? It didn’t matter.

“Wha-” Zarrus started, but Laban cut him off.

“You’re not fit to be a Priest of Ilmater.” He continued as he began to tidy up the papers on his desk.

Zarrus let out a shaky breath as Laban’s words sank in. An order to vacate his spot at the Temple meant-

“You, Zarrus Tremain, are hereby excommunicated from the Temple of Ilmater. You have one hour to gather your things,” the cardinal said, looking at Zarrus, that same thin and tight smile across his lips as he regarded the blue tiefling. “And get out of my temple.”

Zarrus felt his stomach jump up into his throat and back down again. He felt like he would puke and pass out at the same time. Most betraying, he felt tears prick in his eyes as he tried to slow his shallow breathing. He swallowed. No. He wouldn’t let Laban have the satisfaction. He was a Cardinal, and had the jurisdiction to excommunicate him, but he wasn’t Ilmater.

Ilmater knew the truth. Zarrus knew that in his bones.

It’s just that Zarrus didn’t know what that truth was yet.

He blinked back tears and squared his shoulders before nodding curtly.

“Justice endures.” Zarrus said, just loud enough for Cardinal Laban to hear, before disappearing down the corridor.