#its not really a prompt but a little idea to add some variety in the dp x dc world

[jamiethebee]

A little dp x dc musing (or general ectoplasm shenanigans if the crossover isn't your cup)

Everyone loves the pit rage (ectoplasm) Jason and DC people love grumbling about how that's just Jason, no supernatural meddling. So I propose ectoplasm poisoning (or pit rage or however you wanna spin it) just lowers the threshold for inhibition - it doesn't amplify feelings or create any new ones, it just makes you more likely to act on those feelings/thoughts. Which would of course make someone seem more volatile. Not tons, like it couldn't convince someone to do something, put it'd be like a little nudge in that little hurdle called self control. Nothing major, and easy enough to resist if you're a level headed sort (or an over thinker), but for a kid that was violently murdered, brought back to life, trained, and looking for revenge? Well.... No wonder the duffel bag collected a few heads.

Also!!! A fun thing to explore with Danny and Vlad! Like what self respecting middle aged man enters a prank war with a 14 year old???? Sure adults definitely have "man I'd love the fight this kid" thoughts but most of them don't actually do that?!?!? And Danny has so many moments that result in "dude that's a bad idea please stop no danny uuugh didn't you leave this lesson already???!" . I feel like it's also be a fun way to explore obsessions and ghosts - if you don't have to pay bills and no real reason to /not/ pursue your passion then... Why not?

[fleetwood-cheese]

Phantom Thief outfit breakdown: pt 6

This is a continuation of my previous post and series regarding my opinions on the phantom thieves' metaverse costumes, prompted by a poll by @waywardsalt. I will like all of these together as they're finished.

Akechi - Ann - Makoto - Sumire - Futaba - Akechi 2

Next Up: Yusuke! Heads up, we're getting to the point were I have significantly less in the way of changes, so from here on out it might primarily be analysis over direct tweaks.

In my opinion, Yusuke has a very solid design, but it's not a stand-out one to me. I think some of the other costumes are worse but, also more memorable, so this one rides the line of being good but not flashy enough to stand out in the way others do. I think this actually works well for Yusuke though, as his eccentric and larger than life personality easily shine through and draw attention instead.

The key ideas behind this outfit seems to be to take a simplistic, elegant, and streamlined approach to match Yusuke's frugal upbringing and artistic sensibilities, with traditional Japanese influences to accent it. His mask is an excellent example of this, clearly being an homage to not only kitsune mythology, but the dramatic masks of kabuki, which in turn ties into the way Goemon is clearly designed with the elaborate costumes and dynamic swagger of aragoto, or rough-style, kabuki male leads.

My biggest gripe with the outfit is the tail; I love its inclusion to further accentuate the kitsune inspiration, but I think it could be executed better. The current way its attached, with the metal end clipped to the sash, just screams middle school furry tail to me in the tackiest way. No shade to furries (Yusuke would probably find them fascinating and delightful), but it's not working for this outfit. I think the key to making it look better is to de-emphasize its point of attachment, and make it look like a more natural part of the whole costume and the sash instead of something clipped on at the last minute.

I also think the sash itself could be improved upon; its a good pop of color, but sort of shapeless. I would do this one of two ways: either make it more rope-like, to tie with the dramatic tasuki of his persona, or by making it more obviously similar to the obi belt of traditional kimonos, which are smoother and tied tighter than the sash present on the outfit now. Obi's are also tied in the back with a variety of different knots, depending on how secure it needs to be, which could help with the tail attachment; it also would add an additional traditional touch to the ensemble.

I think the distribution of pops of color, such as the shocking neon blue of the gloves, blue stripes on the sash, and red ribbon of the tail, do a good job of breaking up the navy blue and white palette of the suit and white motorcycle boots (interesting choice, considering Makoto is the one with the literal motorcycle persona). However, I do think it would have been nice to see slightly more color accents throughout in a subtle way, perhaps by making the silver of the zipper more prominent? Nothing flashy, just something small to break the color block up a little more. I also think that Goemon's distinct black and white geometric patterning could have been incorporated, but I'm not sure how.

If you wanted a bigger change, you could open the ends of the sleeves up to resemble kimono robes or add a haori instead of the kind of ridiculously puffed sleeves, but I think this is really necessary and is probably more of me wanting the samurai/ronin aesthetic than anything substantial.

Overall, Yusuke's costume runs a middle ground: good enough to not be noticeably bad, but not flashy enough to compete with some of the more elaborate thief costumes. It's good, its just not wowing me and letting his personality do the talking. I have this one 5th place out of 10 and an overall score of 7/10!

[darkfictionjude]

Etymology nonnie here!

Two things:

1. In my country, lolo can be used to mean a young man (and lola a young woman). And, now that I think about it, one of our words for boyfriend and girlfriend are also very similar to them. As you would say 'pololo' for boyfriend and 'polola' for girlfriend. Not that chilenisms make sense for the MC to use in WWC. I just thought it was a neat thing to note. It would be amusing to use a nickname from a variety of Spanish the MC has no connection to at all.

2. This is the real reason I wanted to write this ask. Plainly, I was wondering if you have ever thought about putting some references of your other IFs in WWC or not? Mainly because, although I don't recall if all your IF projects take place in the same universe, some could easily be inserted to as a sneaky reference. For example, for the Hollywood IF, you could include a movie poster or a re-release of a movie that is original to the Hollywood IF (I don't know how the storyline is supposed to go, so I ignore if there are going to be multiple movies in which the MC would act in, or one singular movie; in any case it doesn't change much the idea above).

I had this idea going around in my mind for a while. But I decided to ask based on your post about editing season 1 once you had finished in its entirety. It could an instance to include such reference, specially since, I would assume, at that point you would have the other IFs more figured out in your head.

I'm really excited for what the future brings. I cannot fantasize much about the MC for the Hollywood IF as of yet, given how little we as future readers know. But I do have some idea already of who I would like to play as, even if incredibly undefined.

I also have some more questions about the Hollywood IF, yet I'm hesitant to ask them. I don't want to pressure you into revealing more than you are comfortable. After all, if you wanted to share more about it, you would without needing me, nor anyone, prompting you to do so.

I do like learning slang from other countries you know it was a thing that I saw in some Mexican telenovelas that anytime they wanted to make you know this male character is gay they would name him lolo or some variation of a non-masculine sounding name 😭

As for the references. Hollywood if doesn’t take place in the same universe as WWC. That would mean the supernatural exists within the Hollywood if when I want that story to be realistic so there can’t be unless I want to add a supernatural element to the Hollywood if (I don’t 💀). I don’t want all my ifs to be of the same genre. The mafia if and the Hollywood if take place in the same universe and I’ve talked about characters and references appearing in the mafia if of the Hollywood if since it’s only 40ish years between them. And it would make sense since there are ties between old Hollywood and the classic mafia (*cough* Frank Sinatra *cough*)

Also you can ask about the Hollywood if, I might say I can’t answer yet or I might be able to answer really depends on the questions

[alyssafedrau]

For this assignment I chose to draw one of my roommates, Catherine. I used light pencil, as I thought it better replicated that time period at first. Then I went in and added some color to this. I also chose to use the dramatic backdrop. I added an arch and some pillars to fit the Renaissance theme. I also had some repetition. This can be noticed in the 3 diamonds, the 3 pillars, and the 3 trees on Catherine's shirt.

"Friendly Critique: It would be cool for you to get a little looser and wilder with your drawing strokes so that they are going in a variety of directions, like Van Gogh style.I appreciate the inclusion of an environment and suggest exploring it further through the addition of collage, or painterly experimentation. : )" I tried to add some fun colors and strokes to fit this style. I tried to let loose on the background and just draw!

Attendance Prompt:

Violet

"Their preference for violet was the result of two new-minted theories. One was the impressionists' conviction that shadows were never really black or gray, but colored; the second concerned complementary colors" (Page 175).

I wanted to pick something under violet, since that is my favorite color. I chose this passage because of the underlying meaning of shadows. I found it interesting that they found shadows to have these different hues or tints that were not gray and black, but colorful. The idea behind the complementary colors seems to be more for visual appeal. It goes onto discuss how the other color would be yellow, meaning sunlight, so it makes sense that violet would be shade. I honestly think that the color violet is a darker color in its hidden undertones. People who appreciate the color may see life differently, and "shadier."

[trickstarbrave]

a big argument i see for pro-ai stuff not being stolen is "well humans reference things all the time in art and writing. then all people who reference another artist's or writer's work are also unethical"

and this argument misunderstands the nuance of reference in writing and drawing that can be very tricky line to toe in terms of ethics, as well as what "machine learning" is

when you use a stable diffusion model the program is pulling up a variety of images, overlaying them based on the prompt you have entered, finds commonalities, and produces a semi-coherent amalgamation. its basically like making collages. and depending on how specific the prompt is it will have very little to scrape from and thus will at times completely recreate an existing illustration by an actual human artist with some minor tweaks. this is also why there are very common "genres" of ai art like random pretty person makes a neutral face looking off into the distance" or "big titty anime waifu" or "uncanny sports illustrated cover" and are severely limited in scope of what you can easily make or not based on the biases of the data set.

in word models it scrapes information in it's database and uses common phrases and strings of words like a predictive text. when it says things that are accurate or make sense it is basically rewording existing bodies of data or literature. when it's not its basically like bad predictive text that is random phrases that are confusing messes strung together.

both of these things can be done by humans. you can look at an image and basically recreate it with some tweaks. this is called heavily referencing and is done during art studies, and some artists also really hate it and ask people not to, and it is largely frowned upon to not use this artwork for commercial use as it is mostly just regurgitating the years of study, variety of references, and ideas another artist has already done. if someone makes a rip off of finding nemo for instance we can recognize this is a poorly made, cheap imitation that is trying to capitalize off of something more successful for low effort and trick people who dont know the difference or who dont have access to the original. they do not add anything to the medium besides a cheap imitation. they're allowed to exist, but aren't exactly good.

you can also do the same as what chatgpt does: regurgitate the same information with some words changed and rearrange the structure by adding in bits and pieces from other sources you have reworded. this is regarded as a form of plagiarism and is unethical and will get you kicked out of academic or literature spaces. you arent coming up with your own ideas and finding materials to back it up and elaborate upon your ideas. you are taking the finished idea, slapping a new coat of paint on it, and marketing it as your own with a few more things hastily taped onto it. this is what james somerton did and we saw how that worked out: he was eventually called out for plagiarizing much smaller creators.

actually making new material via referencing requires understanding what you are looking at and reading, having your own ideas, synthesizing how these things work best to communicate your vision, and taking care that you are not lifting too much from the source material to the point you are just repeating what someone else did but better than you already. this is a lot harder than people outside of creative or academic circles wanna believe. anyone can read a wikipedia article, reword things, and pull up a few quotes. its very basic. but it doesn't show you truly understand the subject or have anything new to add.

this isn't to say i think anyone who repeats similar ideas or heavily references shit is a bad person. these are often the first steps you learn towards understanding a subject and building your own ideas. people do art studies recreating pictures because they wanna learn through experience how certain techiques are done, why, and then later apply them to other pictures or written works or whatever. you have to follow a few sewing or crochet patterns before you can make your own. likewise i don't have any problem with ai in certain applications--so long as the database is sourced with consent and ethically, it can be a useful tool for reference gathering and idea generation (though i don't like it in terms of academic work or referencing factual information. datasets can be polluted way too easily or the model can get all wonky and end up spitting shit out that is just objectively incorrect. actual fact checking and research is going to be the only real method but companies like it bc its new and its cheap and ppl like google and microsoft prefer people look at ads then actually learn)

but the referencing without fully understanding is the beginning stages of learning art. it should not be the end product being regurgitated and then sold commercially. that's just exploiting other people who did all the hard work of understanding form, lighting, values, composition, poses, and so on as art fundamentals to spit back out something that is a cheap imitation. it is the knock off movie version of art. in order to make anything really worth while it will require a human being to rework it so heavily it is basically more of the human's work than the AIs.

[rex101111]

I'd love to see some commentary on Swipes of Sword and Fan, I'm curious when it comes to more variety-type fics where the inspiration for different chapters comes from and the like. And here's a ⭐ for anything you'd like to talk about in general about whatever!

Thank you!! Looking back im actually pretty proud of this little collection im slowly building up, though to be honest I didn't give it too much thought when I started.

It started out as a bit of a joke, the first chapter was basically just me posting one of the drabbles I sometimes write when somebody sends me a quick description. I just rolled with the premise while staying as close to those two crazy criminals as I could. I posted it as the first chapter of a "collection" half jokingly as an affectionate jab at a trend in fanfiction that is kinda dead these days but was damn near impossible to avoid just a few years back.

People taking an entire prompts list, anywhere from thirty to a hundred, and using that to make a chronologically loose collection of stories based entirely around one ship or group. A select few went the distance and did the whole bunch, but most of them stopped at around the 15 mark. Which is plenty impressive, sure, but it always struck me as evidence that fanfic writers have an awful little habit of biting off more than they can chew.

A habit I'm sure long time readers of my work will no doubt know that I share. The amount of times I said "IM GONNA MAKE A LONG FIC OUTTA THIS ONE JUST YOU WATCH" to myself only to get distracted later on by scheduling issues or just getting attached to another idea... Ah well.

So, yeah, I posted that first chapter as a bit of a jab at myself "oh yeah sure im going to make a collection out of this, the whole nine yards!...probably gonna make it an even 30, be surprised if it hits 15", and the first few chapters came to me like lightning. Since I established the setting in the summary, I pretty much gave myself the freedom to make any story I wanted so long as it was in that very vaguely defined period of time.

Any story. Any at all. Whatever weird idea came to my head with these two that I could fit on two-three pages. I kinda went nuts. Most chapters were born from a quick idea I had like "hey so what if anji got jealous?" or "how do they deal with bounties anyway?" and others I had to really sit with like "...what were Baiken's parents like?" or "tying shoes must be a pain in the ass" or "oh hey what if Anji actually did feel guilty and afraid of his actions hurting the one person he cared about" and so on.

It's gotten to the point where I'm actually fairly certain I will hit that 30 chapter mark at some point. I'm not putting myself on any time line, I just post whenever I have a suitably dense and short story I wanna add. And boom.

and im gonna use the star as a chance to rant a little about how petty I personally can be about comments. First off, I love getting any kinda comment at all, if its a simple "OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS" or something along those lines, I will gobble it up like its delicious because it is.

But! Personally speaking if you really wanna make me happy as a writer, I really REALLY like those comments that pick a sentence or a segment and go "OH I REALLY LIKE THIS PART HERE'S A QUICK RANT WHY". Been this way since I wrote weird OC shit on DeviantArt back in the day, craving that very specific "you did good" validation.

Seriously tho, if a reader doesn't have it in them to write a Formal Review of my fanfic I'm not gonna hold it against them. I probably won't answer because I'm honestly genuinely awkward like that. But the dopamine shot of "Comment on AO3" lasts longer if the comment is also longer, you know? I've read comments that made me dance in place and pump my fists like I won a marathon. that shit rocks and readers who take the time to indulge my need for overly specific praise are a treasure.

[call-jupiter]

committing myself to attempting a chapter in the form of a true-crime doc for The Sycamore Tree lmfao should be fun but we’ll have to see how it goes. I like challenging myself and trying my hand at a variety of writing styles and this fic being my first rookie fic AND being as long and as… involved… as it is makes it a good sandbox for some experimentation. might scrap it if it pisses me off but the attempt will be made. I already know exactly what ground it’s gonna cover and everything so I’m looking forward to putting those chapters in proper writing (not just an outline) so I can really get to work on this one knowing fully how the relevant chapters before it panned out. it’s planned and all but I need to actually finish the chapters first bc I’m not… always great at following my own outlines. lol.

since I’ve been trying to flesh it out with subplots and side action and new characters and bottle chapters and things my outline has come out feeling structured very much like a season of television. so I thought it’d be cool to try and take one of the show’s unique episode formats and incorporate it in. turning Sycamore into something of like a… what-if for s5 on the whole rather than just a canon divergence that happens to start in s5? like I want it to be Large Scale. if my readers and I are committing to 40 chapters that range from 7-10k words each, I might as well use that space to its full potential.

I’m rambling. but what y’all are gonna learn about me the more and more active I get in the fanfic scene for this show is that there’s nothing I love more than using my socmed platforms to pontificate my little fic ideas instead of making private notes. do it on my twt all the time for bbc merlin bc that’s the place I promo those works. tumblr’s become a bit of a home base for my rookie content (which is just Sycamore rn but hopefully more in the future since I’m enjoying creating this one so much). that means these random little musings about potential fics or directions for those wips are mostly gonna land here. feel free to ignore them. or, hell, if I post some off-hand concept that you like go ahead and lift it for your own works. I think that’s why I like making notes this way tbh bc then if an idea is dead-on-arrival for me it could theoretically find life in the hands of another writer who came across it. like paying it forward or whatever but in fic prompts. inspiring myself and hopefully other writers in the process—since I know coming up w an idea is half the battle. might be a bit presumptuous but it’s like if I do it this way maybe I can make that part a bit easier on my future self or on someone else. idk.

anyway. love y’all a lot. like a lot a lot. the support is still mind-blowing to me. I don’t think I’ll ever quite wrap my head around it. very surreal. so hopefully you can bear w me and my aimless posts like this and my writing experiments that may or may not succeed. I’m so proud of this work so far but it’s such new territory for me and it really feels like it’s asking a lot of the audience to stick w it since it’s… so much. like I want the diversions from the main arc to feel natural and engaging. it’s difficult tho bc I’m not a professional or whatever. I’m not even someone w an english/writing/literature background or something. I’m just a pharmacology student writing some silly little fanfiction in my spare time.

what I mean to say is that I’m trying my damnedest to make it worth your time to read it all. even the parts that aren’t chenford or aren’t connected to the main plot. like they’re there bc I feel like it adds to the experience not bc I’m trying to pad the length. and ik that in my mind but sometimes I see the current word count or my projections for the final word count based on the average of the finished chapters and I question how it comes off. like I worry a bit that adding stuff like that could seem superfluous even tho it’s not my intention. I don’t want Sycamore to be long for the sake of being long. I want it to be long so it can feel like a whole universe. like a highly fictionalized thing still grounded somewhat in reality. not just a one-track story to get characters straight from point A to point B. you know?

idk what I’m saying anymore but. it all makes sense in my head. I just have so many thoughts about this work and I’m also just so excited to write it and publish it and let you see it but it’s very slow-going bc I want it to be as good as possible.

anyway. weird little draft note thing over. there was a point to this somewhere but I definitely lost it midway. lmfao. this is what happens when I forget to take my adhd meds and can’t focus enough to actually write but still want to feel like I’m making progress. whoops.

[remediesone]

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[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

[imthepunchlord]

What would change if Marinette was transfer student, while Alya was "native" student and Chloe's rival in "Origins"

So more along the lines of canon? I'm going to roll with that assumption.

Well, there's a lot of possibilities and what I roll out isn't so certain. Everything below is just a rolled out debatable possibility. But what's for certain: classmate dynamic wouldn't be as it is in Origins. Not to say it'd be a drastic change, but it still has changes.

- Chloe I still see being a bully, but she doesn't have a favorite target.

- Alya wouldn't have that low self esteem that Marinette had in Origins as I don't see her reaching that point that Chloe was able to get Marinette to, Nora at least is there to be very aware of her little sister and have her back. And Alya is more "fight back!" if she's wronged than Marinette. Chloe doesn't like picking fights with those who are going to fight back, hence her not going after Nino, Alya, Ivan, ect. Marinette does fight back now, but with her pursuing Adrien romantically, that fuels Chloe's continued fire to fight back against Marinette. And spite. As Alya largely doesn't really go against Chloe all that much and they just ignore each other, things may not be so tense between them. Especially since Alya just isn't interested in Adrien. No threat for Chloe.

- Alya will have an already established best friend by the time Marinette comes in. Playing off Origins where she sits in the front initially, I'm going to roll with that being her seat. Best friend wise, that could have Mylene or Alix (as they initially sit behind her) or that could be Nino who doesn't want to sit around Chloe. He may just sit by Alya in general and he, Alya, Alix, and Mylene are all kinda a group already.

Now, what changes, that's really up in the air.

Marinette may or may not have low self esteem, it depends on where she was originally and what her experience was. And there are some options:

She could've been living/traveling with Gina and they decided it was time for her to settle and go to an actual school. This has her very traveled, know bits of languages here and there, got to see a wide variety of cultures, and may or may not know some characters that don't naturally live in France.

She could come from Italy and potentially knows Lila.

She could come from London and potentially knows Felix.

She could come from New York, potentially knew Zoe and Audrey played a role in inspiring Marinette into getting into fashion.

She could have lived in Shanghai or Wenzhou and Tom wanted her to connect with her western roots or (this applies to most above) he's concerned about his dad getting old and wants to be close by just in case despite their grievances.

Or she can come from a new place that's not mentioned yet in show.

She could also potentially have been friends with the Quantic Kids, Felix may or may not be included.

There's a lot of possibilities for Marinette. And depending on background will depend on how she is. I think for sure she'd be nervous, but I want to say that chances are good that she won't have low self esteem.

Miraculous wise, it technically can go either way if its Alya or Marinette who does Fu's test. It depends if this arrival swap changes up where Fu does the test or not. If not, Marinette will still pass it and just be like, wtf, I just got here why do I have this? Because probability that she doesn't have low self esteem, things may go better on that first run.

This will also decide if anyone knows a hero's identity at the start; Alya will tell her best friend when she gets it, Marinette wouldn't.

And depending on Nino will depend on where Marinette and Adrien sit, and their relationship if they have one. If Alya and Nino are buddies, that leaves the seat in front of Chloe open and Marinette will sit there with Adrien and they wind up best friends though not so pleasant as Chloe is right behind them but that could push Adrien to address as Chloe's picking on his new friend who's also new.

But if Nino isn't a best friend to Alya and he and Adrien still connect, a seat is open beside Alix/Mylene in the 2nd row, Marinette could sit by Ivan, or sit by Nathaniel and she could end up best friends with any of them. Depending on who, this can lead to Marinette not interacting with Alya or Adrien at all.

...And I will add in, that, potentially, Adrien may even opt to sit away from Chloe, picking up or straight up told by Alya that Chloe isn't well liked and is mean and he'd rather sit away from her. So he could sit beside Alix/Mylene, Ivan, or Nathaniel.

Crush wise, that's also up in the air and depends on a lot.

Adrien's crush, we'll keep it simple and say that he crushes on whoever his partner is. Marinette or Alya, they're going to come out spirited and confident in the end which wins him over. That's what seems to draw him, confident girls that are able to kick ass.

With Alya, I'll say that she doesn't crush on anyone until s2, as I don't see her interested in romance s1 wise with the new hero business in Paris. That's more exciting to her than romance. I'm also more inclined for Alya liking girls so I'd say she'd crush on Kagami when she comes in, or winds up liking Alix but it takes a while for that friendship to become more. For those who do like DJWifi, I'd say it would be similar to Alix's set up, best friends or just good friends, it takes a while for that relationship to get going. Adrien and Alya I just don't see it as, canon wise, they barely interact at all. Most you'll get is Adrien potentially crushing on hero Alya but I don't see her interested in dating her sidekick.

On Marinette, that will depend and vary as well. Initially, I want to say that she's not really going to crush on anyone. Best friend wise, based on what's seen, she typically regards platonically. Not to say that she couldn't regard her best friend as a romantic possible partner, but just working off her canon interactions. And because she just arrived, and Chloe wasn't so inclined to pick on Alya, there is a chance that Chloe may be interested on picking on Marinette when she comes. This leads to no gum incident, and no umbrella scene. So there's no set up point in Origins for Marinette to crush on anyone. So for now, just inclined to say that Marinette's not going to crush on anyone.

And well... I think that'd be it. How else the show goes will depend on who has the earrings, Alya or Marinette. If the latter, it largely goes the same as canon, minus Marinette crushing on Adrien and her having a different best friend. With Alya, well, that changes things up more, and saving Paris doesn't go as smoothly as you have an Alya-Adrien partnership, both very reactive characters that are quick to go with the first idea that comes to them and don't factor in consequences very well. Fu might be prompted to let loose a miraculous or two.

[bellafarallones2]

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the “kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

--

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

--

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

--

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

[echoghost1]

DannyMay 2021 Prompt Day 05: Doorway

Things Left Behind

Summary: Danny was a naturally gifted Medium. His psychic abilities had manifested at a very young age and his parents couldn't be prouder, without him their business wouldn't be even half as successful as it was.

Word Count: 1487

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Danny blinked back into awareness and it felt like the world was swaying.

“Sweetie?” his mom asked as she squeezed his hand.

“Yeah,” his voice felt a little odd in his throat. Like it was still settling into place. “I’m back.”

“Dizzy?” his dad asked as he rubbed his thumb in a soothing circle on the back of Danny’s hand.

“Yeah,” he was always dizzy when he came back.

Then they asked him the stander questions after every session. Once they were satisfied with his answers, they finally broke the circle.

His mom helped him up and guided him to his resting throne. He never called it that out loud, but it’s not like it mattered. It made him feel fancy, and it was the plushest chair he had ever seen and it was just for him.

He pulled his legs up and rested his head against the armrest with a pillow nestled between the crook of his arm and his neck. He idly traced the protective rune stitched into the fabric of the pillow as he addressed their guests, “Did you find the answers you were looking for? Were you able to get closure?”

He liked to ask the clients these questions after each session. He hoped that the answer would always be something akin to a yes, but it wasn’t always the case.

“Yes. I’ll admit I was skeptical at first, but you’re the real thing.” the woman turned to hold hands with her husband, “It feels so good to know that my brother is okay. That he isn’t mad at me.”

“That’s good to hear”, Danny smiled. The room felt peaceful, it was probably just the lingering emotions of this woman’s brother. His spirit was long gone, but strong emotions tended to hang around, like the perfume of a passing stranger.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” the husband asked his parents as if he wasn’t right there.

“Yes, he just needs to rest.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right as rain in no time. Don’t you worry,” Danny added with a thumbs up.

“Right as rain,” The woman laughed, “My brother used to say that all the time.”

Danny held the rune-covered pillow closer and tried not to react to that. He’d never said that one before. Why was he still talking like the spirit?

He waited until the clients had left and his mom was back in the seance room before he asked, “Can we do a cleansing?”

His mom stopped what she was doing, her hand still on the lid of the box where they stored the anointed candles. “Why? Are you not feeling okay?”

“Have I ever used the phrase ‘right as rain before’?” he asked only half-rhetorically.

“I’ll get the sage.”

==============================================

Jazz didn’t necessarily like helping her parents with their spooky ghost stuff, but she knew she needed to be there for her brother. Besides, you couldn’t do a proper cleansing ritual with only two people.

When they discovered his natural gifts, aka his ability to be a voice for the dead, he quickly became their favorite child. How could he not? They had a business based on the occult and were more than happy to use his gifts for ‘the good of the family business’, as they liked to say.

Sure she was pretty jealous about it as a child, but once she saw how it was affecting him, she realized she didn’t want to be the favorite child anymore. There were plenty of nights where everyone in the house was woken up from his nightmares. Or how long it took for their parents to figure out how to make sure that Danny was Danny again after a seance so they didn’t have to keep exorcising him.

She had no idea how he was able to put up with all of that. Even now, with all the precautions and protection runes, he was always so tired after every seance.

She didn’t understand why he let them keep using him like that? Why he wasn’t angry with them for replacing his childhood with death and other people’s problems.

She asked him once, but all he did was parrot back what their parents said whenever anyone pointed out how young he was.

“I have a gift. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t use it to help others.”

He’d heard that line so many times, but she wasn’t sure if he ever really understood what he had given up. If he even knew how much that gift of his was a curse.

“If you ever want to stop, I’ll help you, okay. Just say the word and I’ll make mom and dad listen.”

He just smiled and shook his head, “You worry too much.”

She only worried this much because their parents didn’t worry enough.

==============================================

Danny was used to being stared at while he at school, or anywhere in town really, but being used to something did not equate to liking it.

Regardless, he did his best to ignore the pair of eyes that was currently trying to bore its way into his skull.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

“I didn’t accidentally tune into spirit radio and not notice again, did I?” Danny asked as he leaned towards Tucker’s desk.

“No man, you’re good. Why?”

“Because someone is staring.”

“Who?” Tucker asked as he turned to look.

Danny sighed but didn’t bother stopping him.

“Ah, it’s just Valerie.”

“You don’t think she’s still mad about the Axion field trip do you?”

“Probably.” Tucker shrugged and slouched back in his desk chair. “You did lick her face in front of her dad and the entire student body.”

“I said I was sorry! Besides I’ve never housed an animal spirit before. I didn’t even know I could.”

“True. But I don’t think most people even believe your whole Medium thing.”

“Whole Medium thing? Gee, thanks.”

“What am I supposed to call it? Your Spooky Possession Time? Psychic Variety Hour?”

“Okay, no. That’s so much worse. Stop, please.” Danny asked while trying not to laugh too hard.

“Boys!” Mr. Lancer called from the front of the room, “If you are not discussing the current assignment I suggest you save it for after class.”

Both boys looked down at their respective desks and apologized.

==============================================

Danny often described his ability as opening a door. That as a conduit he opened himself up to host the spirits that were called for, or that happened to be nearby, and then they would leave. Usually, this was done by his parents at the end of a seance. Occasionally he needed to be exorcised, but that hardly happened anymore.

The thing he never really considered was that by opening himself up, by offering himself that way sometimes spirits lingered in that metaphysical doorway. Sometimes they left small pieces of themselves behind, like footprints or fingerprints.

Expect that’s not what they were really leaving with him.

They left behind words, phrases he never used or had never heard himself, but felt so right when they came out of his mouth.

They left images that found their way out of his fingers as he doodled in the margins of his notebooks.

They left him songs that hid in his subconscious and didn’t emerge unless he heard them and he found himself humming along despite never hearing the song before.

Other times they’d leave a faded memory that only awakened when he found some old forgotten object and he’d be overwhelmed with emotions so strong and so foreign he’d think he was stuck in a waking dream.

He tried his best to keep himself cleansed. He tried to make a habit of it, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes he’d host a particularly sentimental spirit and he’d need to add another cleansing to his routine.

He hoped he was just imagining it, but it felt like this was happening more often than not. So often that sometimes he wouldn’t notice until he’d catch himself starting to act strange. Or worse, when someone else pointed it out.

He didn’t want this to be getting worse.

If it was getting worse he’d have to stop. But if he stopped helping his parents with the seances, what else was there for him to do? What else was he if not a Medium?

He decided to teach his friends how to do the cleansing ritual. Just in case.

They couldn’t do it properly, they would need to find a third person, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t want to do cleansings without his parents or at least his sister, but he also didn’t want to have to keep asking his parents for help.

He didn’t want them to know how frequent this was becoming.

He didn’t want them to make him stop.

He wasn’t sure he truly ever could.

He didn’t think the spirits would ever let him go.

He knew they wouldn’t.

[pressedinthepages]

Scene

next fill for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

also big thanks to @major-trouble for beta-ing and @sometimesiwrite and @rawrkinjd , as well as friends in the Cake Shop for helping me spin this story together <3

Prompt: Remote/Magical Toys

Relationship: Geralt/Eskel

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: modern au, soft dom/sub play, subspace, domspace, public sex (kinda), marking, bruising, reverse stripping (aka getting dressed), dressing each other, edging, orgasm denial, frottage, penetrative and oral sex (m/m)

Summary: After a hard day, Geralt found his husband, Eskel, getting ready to treat him to a relaxing evening out.

Geralt sighed as he pressed the garage control that was hooked onto his visor. He leaned his head back against the well-worn interior for just a moment before pulling out his keys from the ignition and pushing open the driver’s door. The bed creaked as its weight resettled from Geralt rising out of the truck. He pushed the door shut with his hip, wincing a bit as the hinges groaned. Gotta add WD-40 to the list.

He ran his hand down the line of his jaw, scratching the tired skin lightly. His feet hurt, his back hurt, hells, even his eyes felt strained on the drive home in the light from the late afternoon sun. But even before he opened the door that led into the house, Geralt could feel the low thrum of music being played just a bit too loud, and he wouldn’t have been able to suppress the grin on his lips if he tried. Eskel was cleaning.

Something low and cozy unfurled itself in Geralt’s stomach, stretching out languidly in the relief of feeling at home. Eskel, with his broad shoulders and penchant for wearing trousers that were just a tad bit too snug around his bum, was just beyond that door, tidying his big ol’ heart away while waiting for Geralt’s return. Coming home to his husband never failed to make Geralt’s knees wobbly with affection and sweet words spill unbidden into the air. No matter what had happened that day, no matter how drained Geralt felt before he crossed the threshold into their home, Eskel was somehow always exactly what he needed.

And it varied. A lot. Some days, Geralt needed soft words and cuddles on the couch that stretched into the pastel lights of pre-dawn. Other days, Geralt needed Eskel’s sharp wit and bold hands that took him apart atop their crimson bed sheets. And still others, such as this day that found Geralt, he didn’t really know what he needed. He was really looking forward to their dinner out, a chance to relax and unwind without any of the outside world pressuring in, but he couldn’t quite place where he needed his head to be to feel at peace.

Geralt shook his head fondly as he turned the brass knob, stepping through and letting it click shut behind him. The sweet, crisp scent of Pinesol greeted him as he walked into the house before toeing off his work boots in the laundry room. Geralt’s socked feet padded quietly out into the hallway, following the sound of instrumental lo-fi playing through a speaker towards the kitchen, where he was met with a pair of fiery golden eyes and a palm facing him, willing him to stop in his tracks.

“AH, ah, don’t come into the kitchen. Just mopped,” Eskel smiled as Geralt backed away with a smirk, his own palms turned up in peace. “Just have this last corner to hit and then I’m good to go.”

Geralt hummed and leaned on the frame of the doorway, his eyes tracking down the swell of Eskel’s arms at the seams of his well-worn henley, the dark hair flopping down into his eyes with just the hint of a little curl at the ends. Eskel turned his back to him and pushed the mop into the corner, scooting backwards bit by bit.

“Hair’s getting long,” Geralt drawled. “You’ll be needing some of my hair ties soon enough.”

Eskel huffed and glanced over his shoulder, still swiping back and forth across the floor and blowing his hair away from his eyes. “Got an appointment next week for a trim, it’s gettin’ to be a bit mu-”

“Cancel it,” Geralt whispered as Eskel reached the edge of the tile and his bum knocked into Geralt’s hips. Geralt set his hands on Eskel’s waist as he stood to his full height. One of his hands trailed up Eskel’s back and tangled into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it long like this…”

Eskel hummed from low in his chest, rumbling back into Geralt. “I’ll think about it.”

Geralt pressed his lips into the hollow of Eskel’s neck. “Please do. We should get ready for dinner.”

Eskel nodded and swallowed thickly, taking a calming breath before reaching for the mop bucket and toting it back into the laundry room. He wiped the sweat from his brow, the echo of Geralt’s lips still floating on his neck. He heard the low hum of the water heater kick on as Geralt got into the shower, so he unceremoniously dumped out the dirty water and left the mop propped up to dry.

He puttered around briefly, rinsing off his hands and patting them dry on his jeans as popped back into the kitchen, keeping his feet light as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He quickly filled it with ice and water from the dispenser in the refrigerator before walking back down the hallway towards their bedroom. Eskel pondered as he walked, honing in on Geralt’s disposition. He had clearly been in a good enough mood to be a tease, but Eskel wasn’t blind. He could see the dark circles tinging the tender skin under Geralt’s eyes, the weight of his consciousness dangling heavily from his solar plexus and pressing behind his ears.

Eskel moved over to the bedside table and set the glass of water down and left his phone to charge before walking to their closet. He had an idea, and a damned good one at that. He just needed to move quickly in getting himself ready so that he could focus on what Geralt needed. Eskel stripped out of his comfortable lounging clothes and chucked them aside, cocking his hip as he decided what to wear.

He slid on a slightly more respectable pair of jeans that hugged his ass quite nicely, sitting comfortably on his hips. Next, a simple hunter green button-down, loosely tucked in with the top few buttons left undone. Eskel finished it off with a dark brown leather belt and a pair of grey oxfords. Easy enough, he thought as he heard the shower turn off. Now, for the fun.

Eskel strode back and forth between the closet and the bed a few times, depositing new items with every pass. A pair of dark, not-quite-black jeans, a blue shirt with silver pearly buttons and a subtle paisley print, a soft pair of briefs, all folded neatly at the edge of the bed. Geralt’s most comfortable pair of nice boots, the soft leather buttery as Eskel set them with a pair of socks peeking out.

A simple black box, no larger than a shoe box, was set atop the comforter as well. It had been tucked away for a solid two weeks, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal as Eskel’s surprise. Eskel put his hands on his hips and looked down at the spread just as the bathroom door opened, the soft spice of Geralt’s body wash carried over on a burst of steam. Eskel turned around and smiled as Geralt quirked his brow at him. “What, no red shirt tonight?”

“Variety’s the spice of life, Geralt.” Eskel tracked his eyes slowly, obviously, reverently over Geralt’s hair already neatly tied at the nape of his neck, down his broad chest and his narrow waist, his skin glistening with water droplets that trailed their way down to the towel slung around Geralt’s waist. “Speaking of, can we do a scene tonight?”

Eskel flicked his eyes back up to Geralt’s face, his sharp eyes catching the blush that just barely crept up Geralt’s neck. It even peeked a bit over the faint freckles on Geralt’s cheeks, like watercolors sweeping across parchment. It was that, those little things that no others had the privilege of witnessing, that always gave Eskel the most euphoric sense of joy.

Geralt nodded and cleared his throat lightly. “What-uh, what did you have in mind?”

Eskel held out his hand and his smile grew as Geralt slipped his fingers in between his own. “I want to take care of you, let you have a quiet night where you can get away from all those thoughts bouncing around your skull.”

Geralt hummed and looked over Eskel’s shoulder to the bed with a cheeky smirk. “Picked out an outfit for me?”

“Mhm.” Eskel ran his other hand up Geralt’s shoulder and watched the goosebumps bloom in its wake. “Figured that even if you don’t wanna scene, I could still help you get ready.”

“Tell me more.” Geralt appraised the box on the bed suspiciously, but with an enthusiastic glint in his eyes.

Eskel followed his gaze. “We’ve got a quiet booth for dinner tonight, set aside in a corner. I’ll dress you, be sweet. But I figured that tonight might be good to try this out…”

He turned and grabbed the box, handing it to Geralt to open. Geralt’s fingers worked quickly, tipping the lid open and turning out what lay inside into his palm. It was a toy made of velvety black silicone, a sleek graduating plug with a tapered tip and a flared base. It was reminiscent of some of the toys that they had used in the past, but Geralt could tell by the way that Eskel was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet that he was in for a pleasant reveal of just what this toy had to offer.

“I’ll work you open,” Eskel rumbled, reaching behind him for his phone, “and put that in. I-I’d like for you to wear it at dinner. And...I’ll be able to do this-” Eskel pressed on the screen on his phone and the toy gently vibrated in Geralt’s palm, practically silent, “whenever I want.”

“A-are you gonna make me cum at the table?” Geralt whispered, glancing back and forth between Eskel’s fingers and the still-vibrating plug.

“Would you like that?” Eskel asked, removing his thumb from his phone, letting the toy fall still.

Geralt swallowed thickly and let his mind wander. No work, no outside world. Only Eskel, the man that he loved more than words could dare to say, doting on him and showering him in pleasure that he so rarely afforded himself. It didn’t take long for Geralt to make up his mind. “Y-yeah, I’d like that.”

“Then when we get back home,” Eskel slipped his phone into his pocket and rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, revealing olive skin dusted with pearly scars here and there, “we can indulge more. But I think we should just keep the scene for the dinner.”

Geralt nodded, “I agree. I know that I’m going to want to ravish you by the time we get back here.”

Eskel brought his hand up to Geralt’s neck and pulled him in, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply, the soft musk of clean Geralt warming his chest and down his hips. “Safewords?”

“You know my word.”

“Doesn’t matter. Still need you to tell me.”

Geralt sighed with a smile that betrayed the tease on his tongue. “Steel.”

Eskel nodded. “Steel.”

“And yours?”

“Silver.” The word dripped from Eskel’s lips, passed merely on his breath to Geralt’s ears.

“Silver.” Eskel watched Geralt’s eyes begin to haze over with his eagerness, his readiness for what was so close to come.

“Ready then?” Geralt nodded and blinked, clearing himself for the touch of Eskel’s hands and the mind-bending surge of Eskel’s being bleeding into his own.

Eskel took a deep breath and felt himself slip into the role, the dominant, the caretaker. He stood up straight and allowed all of the bold streaks within him to flare out into the very tips of his fingers where he reached to pull Geralt to the edge of the bed. “Let’s get you dressed, love.”

Geralt sighed as soon as he felt Eskel’s strong touch on his skin. Eskel could feel the steady thrum of his heart in his chest, and he watched Geralt’s eyes haze over and flick down, slipping into his own role as the submissive, the wanted, the cared-for. A lazy smile pulled at his lips when he looked back up into Eskel’s eyes, and Eskel could practically taste the adoration that swam around in his vision.

Geralt’s skin was warm and dry as Eskel ran his hands over his shoulders and down to the towel at his waist. He untied the little knot and pulled it away, leaving Geralt’s side for a moment to hang it on the hook on the bathroom door. He heard the low whine that tore itself from Geralt’s throat and he hummed reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love. Just don’t want to leave a mess. You saw all the cleanin’ I did today?”

Geralt nodded as Eskel came back to him, stopping behind him and resting his hands on his hips. He peered around and met Geralt’s gaze when he turned his head, two pairs of maple-gold eyes boring into each other. “Did it for you. I’ll always do it for you, anything.”

Geralt gasped as Eskel’s hands pushed at his hips, leading him to prop one knee up on the edge of the bed and brace himself on his hands atop the dark sheets. Something low and intense burned in Eskel’s stomach at the little noise, so acutely aware of how difficult it was to drag noises like that from Geralt. “Y-hmm. You know that I’d do anything for you, Eskel. You need only ask.”

“I do,” Eskel murmured, kissing down the line of Geralt’s spine, smirking at the goosebumps that erupted around his hips, “in a heartbeat. You’re my everything, and I know that you love me more than you can rightly say.”

Geralt could feel the denim of Eskel’s jeans scratching against the backs of his bare thighs, setting their two roles apart in stark contrast. Naked, needy, exposed. Dressed, giving, guarding. The rough planes of Eskel’s cheek glanced over the small of Geralt’s back as he kneaded his hands gently into the swells of Geralt’s bum, leading him into the headspace of comfort, care, trust. Geralt felt the reins of his mind loosening with each moment that passed, yielding to the loving hands that roved restlessly atop his skin.

Eskel’s blood thrummed molten in his veins as he reached to the bedside table and found the bottle of lube, watching the little shudder along Geralt’s hips as he clicked open the cap. “Now,” he groused, slicking his fingers in a generous amount of the lubricant. “Don’t want to get you too worked up. This is for later, but I want you to be stretched out and comfortable.”

“A-alright-” Geralt hummed as Eskel gently pushed at the tight ring of muscle between his thighs, not actually pushing in, but more around. Loosening him. Relaxing him.

Eskel’s mind and body warred with themselves as he watched Geralt shake ever so slightly under the ministrations of his fingers. Eskel inhaled deeply, centering his energy in his pelvis and the tender spots behind his ears. He slowly pushed into Geralt’s entrance just up to his first knuckle, smoothing his other hand back and forth over Geralt’s hip. He bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep it together, dammit as the keen from behind Geralt’s teeth reached his ears, the sight of Geralt’s toes curling as he attempted to quell any other little noises from betraying his tender state. Geralt’s hole fluttered and pulsed around him as he slid his finger out and back in again, working it just a bit deeper each time. Once he was buried up to the knuckle, Eskel let out a breath that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding.

“Gods, Geralt,” he breathed, entranced by the sight of his finger, shining with lube, pressing in and out and around Geralt’s entrance. Eskel’s cock was certainly showing interest, twitching in the rough confines of his jeans. “You always feel so fucking good for me.”

Geralt’s breath punched out of his chest, his arms suddenly falling slack so his hands bunched in the soft fabric beneath them, his face braced against the comforter. A small voice at the back end of his mind fought the praise, told him that he didn’t need it, that he didn’t deserve it. But this was Eskel talking. Eskel, who had known every inch of Geralt, inside and out, for as long as either of them could remember. Eskel, whose own secure walls had been methodically weathered by Geralt’s love. Eskel, who loved him more and more every day.

So Geralt really couldn’t find it in himself to listen to that insignificant voice. It wasn’t terribly often that either of them had the opportunity to scene quite like this, as Geralt’s mind tended to be far more...stubborn than Eskel’s when it came to letting go. Oh, but when he could? Geralt indulged.

Eskel dripped more lube down Geralt’s cheeks, sliding in a second finger on his next pass. Geralt’s back arched and Eskel watched as the muscles in Geralt’s thighs and down to his calves rippled. Geralt let out a shuddering breath, the end tinged with a growl from the back of his throat.

Patience, Eskel. He had a very specific goal in mind, and that goal required resistance, endurance, restraint. Never mind that his cock was trying valiantly to make itself known, to get him to just rip his trousers off and sink into that tight, wet heat. Eskel hung his head as he worked Geralt open, willing himself calm, searching out the path to Geralt’s pleasure that had become so well traveled for him.

Geralt pushed his hips back into Eskel’s fingers, searching for more. “Esk, please. I-I need-”

“I know what you need, love,” Eskel hummed and tightened his hold on Geralt’s hip, stopping the roll of his hips back onto his hand, “and what you need, Geralt, is a bit of patience.”

Geralt gasped as Eskel thrust a third finger inside of him, stretching him wider and searching for that hidden spot nestled away. Eskel shifted, placing his knee up on the bed beside Geralt and twisting his arm so that he could crook his fingers just so. He finally brushed over that spot that sent stars up Geralt’s spine, but he didn’t linger. He couldn’t.

“You ready?” Eskel rumbled, loosening his grip on Geralt’s hip. A low growl peeled from his chest when he saw the red marks shaped in the pads of his fingers, knowing that they would soon be pretty purple bruises on one of Geralt’s most intimate spots.

“Y-yes,” Geralt sighed, sliding into a whine as Eskel pulled his fingers from inside of him. The toy was light in Eskel’s hand as he coated it with lube, dripping an extra little bit between Geralt’s cheeks as well before pressing it just barely against his entrance.

Geralt tried to rock back into the contact, his hand reaching back and grasping desperately to twine his fingers with Eskel’s. Eskel’s heart soared in his chest, feeling just how badly Geralt wanted this. He stroked his thumb over the back of Geralt’s fingers as his other hand slowly guided the toy into Geralt, lightly thrusting through the tight ring of muscle until it sat comfortably flushed inside of him.

Now, it was nowhere near the size of Eskel’s cock. It was only about the length of a typical plug, and the girth of two of Eskel’s thick fingers. But it still filled Geralt quite nicely, his slender fingers clenching the blanket with enough vigor to leave creases in their wake. His eyes rolled back into his head and all he knew was pleasure in its purest form, a constant thrum inside of him as his body adjusted to the toy.

Eskel couldn’t tear his eyes away. Geralt, bent over on the bed, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, his ass shining with the lube that dripped languidly down the insides of his thighs. The peek of the toy, a black flare sitting nestled along the slope of the inside of Geralt’s cheeks. Eskel slid his hands through the coarse hair on Geralt’s thighs and back up once again, spreading his ass and taking one last, long look.

“You alright if I go grab a towel? Need to get you cleaned up before dinner.” Eskel murmured low, trying to keep his voice steady and calm while a different part of his brain that he was trying very hard to ignore was stomping its feet and losing itself in the ideas of just what Eskel could do with Geralt right now, dammit.

Geralt grunted and relaxed his hands, searching for words that landed no further than the tip of his tongue. Eskel grinned to himself as he watched the gears kick back on in Geralt’s head, cracking through the haze of the subspace that he had so gently, so lightly been cradled into. He hadn’t truly slipped completely into that haze beneath consciousness, but he was lingering in that odd, yet still quite pleasant, space in-between.

Eskel shook his head and gave Geralt just a moment longer. It was so easy for either of them to fall silent while in the cozy embrace of subspace, even one as light as where Geralt found himself. But then, when adjustments needed to be made and the two of them needed to move on to the next part of the scene, they needed words. Not mumbles, not shaken heads. Clear, not cock-drunk words, that show that they came from a settled mind and knew just what they wanted.

“Geralt,” Eskel gently stroked his thumb back and forth on Geralt’s hip, coaxing him back into himself and lowering his head down to be level with Geralt’s. “Need you to use your words. Tell me, can I get a towel for you?”

Geralt’s chin turned lazily towards him, his honey-golden eyes blinking with an ever so slight furrow of his brow. “M-mhmm. Yes, Eskel. I’m good. I’m here.”

Eskel nodded, pressing his lips to Geralt’s temple and scritching the hairs at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

He stepped into the bathroom and found a clean washrag, running it under some warm water and ringing it back out before quickly washing his own hands. As he stepped back into the bedroom, Eskel found Geralt sprawled exactly as he left him, thighs open and head resting on the comforter. “Melitele help me,” he whispered so as not to startle him out of his fragile state of bliss, “Geralt, you are far too pretty.”

Geralt grunted again, a huff of laughter playing on his tongue. “Nuh-uh,” his voice was muffled where his lips turned into the soft red blanket, “y...you’re too pretty. With your long hair, fuck. Can’t wait to pull on it.”

Eskel shook his head and smiled, carefully reaching out to drag his fingers up Geralt’s leg. His heart warmed in his chest and the swell of Geralt’s wish sent lovely visions through his head. “Hush, you. Let me clean this up…”

He slid the warm towel around Geralt’s bum, gently wiping away the stray lube and beads of sweat that had found their way into the small of Geralt’s back and down around where the toy poked temptingly out of him. Eskel hummed low as he went, carefully wiping around Geralt’s front and finding him a bit more than half-hard.

“Well,” Eskel rumbled, using a firm hand to clean away the last few drops of lube from where they had dripped down his thighs, “someone has been enjoying themselves…”

“Mhm,” Geralt sighed, lifting his head up and propping himself onto his hands. “No shit. You were buried to the knuckles and have been whispering sweet things into my ear. Can you blame me?”

“Never,” Eskel whispered, wiping his hands off and pressing his lips to Geralt’s shoulder blade. “Now, I need you to roll over so we can get you dressed. Go slow, don’t want to jostle anything unnecessarily. And don’t even think about tryin’ to help me get you dressed. That’s my job.”

Normally, Geralt would give him snark with his sharp tongue about getting him worked open and kind of sticky so soon after his shower. He wouldn’t want the praise, the soft attention. But Geralt in this role? He had needs locked away that his conscious mind wouldn’t let spill from his lips, wouldn’t allow him to seek out with just anyone. But Eskel? Oh, Eskel had torn right past the walls that Geralt had kept so strongly built around his most tender parts long ago, but it wasn’t often that Geralt let himself get this relaxed, this malleable.

Eskel guided Geralt gently but with confident hands, hands that had squeezed and molded and felt every inch of skin on his body more times than either of them could count. Eskel smoothed his hands down Geralt’s hips and over his thighs as he settled on his bum with his legs hanging off the side of the bed, resting back on his elbows and looking up at him through his lashes. He’d started the journey back into himself from the fog of pleasure, though he was still pliant and smiley when he met Eskel’s eyes.

“How’s it feel, Geralt?” Eskel’s breath caught in his throat when Geralt swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His cock, nestled half-hard at his hip, was beginning to flag just a tad, though it was clear that Geralt was fighting for any modicum of self-restraint.

“Mmm. ‘s good. Comfortable.” Geralt’s voice was rough gravel at the bottom of a riverbed, bubbling and tumbling up his throat. Eskel squeezed Geralt’s thighs, reassuring them both in the soft gesture.

Eskel nodded with decisiveness, letting his fingers slip from Geralt’s legs. “Right then. Let’s get movin’. Underwear first.”

Eskel picked up the soft dark pair of briefs, running his fingers along the waistband. He knelt down between Geralt’s legs, pressing his lips to the inside of his knee. He slipped the shorts over one of Geralt’s feet, followed closely by the other. He pulled them up slowly, letting them chase the path that his lips made until he reached the crest of Geralt’s hip. Eskel tapped his fingers on the side of Geralt’s leg and flicked his eyes up to him, a wordless request. Geralt clenched his jaw as he lifted his hips off the bed and Eskel quickly pulled the underwear into place.

Geralt let out a soft punched noise from his chest as he landed back down on the bed. “Alright?” Eskel asked, standing back to his full height.

“Mhm,” Geralt sighed, his eyes fluttering slightly. “Just...snug in there. ‘S nice.”

“Good,” Eskel grinned, reaching down to adjust how Geralt’s cock was sitting in the soft cradle of the briefs. He was hot and heavy in his palm, valiantly pulsing with Eskel’s barest touch. “Now, give me your hands. I’m gonna help you up and into your pants.”

Geralt grunted, moving like his arms were pushing through jello, slowly sitting up and slipping his fingers into Eskel’s. His chest was flushed pretty pink and his skin was pleasantly warm to the touch. Eskel gently pulled him up, smoothing his hands up Geralt’s arms as he adjusted his weight to standing on his feet once more.

“There’s my man,” Eskel growled from the space nestled right beneath his sternum. Geralt’s knees wobbled as he gasped into Eskel’s ear, clenching his teeth before setting himself right once more.

“M’kay,” Geralt swallowed and nodded, that same soft look still swimming in his eyes. “We can do pants now.”

Eskel pressed his palm firmly into Geralt’s chest above his heart, running his fingers through the dark thatch of chest hair. He leaned over to the bed and picked up the neatly folded jeans, letting them open as he dropped back to the floor at Geralt’s feet. He felt Geralt’s eyes on the crown of his head as he situated the legs of the pants in between them.

“Ask first,” Eskel looked up, catching the bright flicker of Geralt’s eyes boring down into him.

Geralt’s cheeks flushed a bit further, trailing down his chest. “C-can I touch you? Please?”

That was always the most difficult part for Geralt, scene or no. Saying, out loud, what he desired. Not for lack of trying on either of their parts, and they had known each other intimately for so long that they knew, most of the time, just what the other was seeking. But they both knew, too, how long Geralt’s stubbornness would keep him bottled up and silent, keeping down his own wants and needs in pursuit of Eskel’s. But that wouldn’t do.

So Eskel, in an effort to nudge Geralt into being more comfortable with saying what he needed, asked him to. Often. And Geralt had responded well, especially when Eskel offered his soft, gentle praise in return.

“Of course, love,” Eskel said, lowering his voice to as growly as it dared get. “I am yours to touch, always.”

Gods-be-fucking-damned, Geralt thought as he looked down at Eskel, his face level with Geralt’s still quite interested cock and his comfortably full ass. Eskel was clearly affected too, his chest flushed red through the peek at the top of his shirt, his trousers just a tad too snug around his arousal. Geralt threaded his fingers in the soft mahogany strands of Eskel’s hair, just running idly as Eskel’s hand found his ankle.

“This one first,” Eskel said, still staring directly into Geralt’s eyes. Geralt lifted his foot and let Eskel slide the denim over and up, letting the leg pool around his ankle when he led it back down to the floor.

“And the other, now.” A mirrored repeat, Geralt’s fingers still running rivers in Eskel’s hair. Longer than it had been in quite a while. Little curls on the end, enticing him to wrap his fingers in and hold fast. But that wasn’t part of the plan.

Not that night, anyways.

Eskel stood slowly, hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging the jeans up Geralt’s legs. The denim hugged his legs firmly when Eskel stood back to his full height, his eyes still locked with Geralt’s as he settled the waistband on his hips and did up the zipper and buttons. Geralt had softened enough by that point so as not to be completely obvious in the tight pants, though Eskel still used a gentle hand to guide his cock into a comfortable position.

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek as he felt Eskel’s hands smooth up over his stomach and onto his neck, cupping his cheeks and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Geralt turned his head just a tad and slotted their lips together, not pushing or deepening, just sort of... holding each other, feeling the sweet embrace of their lips against one another. Geralt sighed as Eskel moved away, grabbing Geralt’s shirt off of the bed.

“Come now,” Eskel chuckled, “can’t just kiss you all day. We’d never actually get to dinner.”

Eskel led Geralt with a hand on his hip to spin, his chest now at Geralt’s back. Eskel dragged his nose down the slope of Geralt’s shoulder as he slid the sleeves of the shirt over Geralt’s hands and up his arms. The fabric was cool over his flushed skin, light and breezy despite the stuffy appearance. Eskel adjusted it so it sat correctly over Geralt’s broad shoulders and skated his hands back down to Geralt’s hips. He tapped his left hand twice right over Geralt’s hipbone, prompting a spin once more.

Geralt smirked and spun around on the balls of his feet, just slow enough that he knew would push and prod at the bottom of Eskel’s almost endless well of patience. He knew he had hit it perfectly when Eskel’s crooked brow came into view, one of his hands resting comfortably on his cocked hip.

“How long do you think I can keep this up before you look at your watch?” Geralt drawled, playful affection tinting the heavy snark in his voice.

“Geralt…”

“Well, you’ve spent a decent chunk of time playing with my ass, at this rate we won’t be getting to any sort of restaurant before …”

Eskel tilted his head, a playful warning, but a warning all the same. He was, after all, the one in charge. “As much as I would love to watch you try and find out, we’re not testin’ my resolve this evening. Not yet.”

Eskel smirked, hooking his fingers into Geralt’s belt loops and yanking, slotting their hips together and brushing their noses. “For now though,” he whispered into Geralt’s mouth, having ended that bout of silliness quite effectively, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

He ran his hands up beneath the edges of Geralt’s shirt, all the way up to his collarbones before grabbing onto the fabric. Eskel started a few buttons down, showing off a triangle of pale skin marked with shiny scars and smattered freckles. Eskel’s fingers danced quickly down the rest of the pearly buttons, neatening and straightening as he went all the way down to the last one. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek as his hands snaked around his waist, tucking the hem of the shirt snugly into the band of his trousers as they moved back around to the front.

Geralt returned the peck on the cheek before Eskel backed too far away, smiling at the soft blush that skated over Eskel’s nose. “Anything else?”

“Sit back down on the edge of the bed,” Eskel slipped his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time before setting it on the comforter. “Need to get your shoes on, then we should be ready to go.”

Geralt nodded and sat, kicking his feet idly while Eskel knelt back on the floor. “Got my good boots out?”

Eskel looked up at him through his lashes, “Of course I got the good ones, this is not amateur hour, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded and set his feet on Eskel’s thighs. “I like these boots.”

Eskel smiled and pressed his lips to the inside of Geralt’s thighs, kissing the rough denim and feeling the yield of the soft flesh nestled beneath. “I know. ‘S why I picked them.”

Eskel moved quickly, easily slipping the socks onto Geralt’s feet, followed by the comfortable leather boots. Eskel did up the laces, only knotting them a single time. Just as Geralt preferred.

He stood, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Geralt’s thighs. He kissed Geralt gently before grabbing his phone, backing up just outside of arm’s reach. “Right then, love. Wanted to ask you something. Would you like to see how the toy feels when it’s on before we leave, or would you rather it be a surprise?”

Geralt met Eskel’s eyes, finding them clear and soft. Not the eyes of his dom, demanding answers and compliance with only a look. No, those were Eskel’s eyes. The eyes of the man with a heart of gold that Geralt loved more than life itself. Geralt shook away the last tendrils of the hazy submissive role that had enveloped him so nicely over the last while, mulling over his two options clearly in his mind.

If there was something that Geralt tried to avoid at all costs, it was surprises. Generally speaking, it was rare that anything ever truly surprised him, but there were always some exceptions. Even still, he preferred to be prepared for any possible outcome, especially when his ass was involved.

But fuck, when it came to Eskel? He would put his life in Eskel’s hands without a second thought. He knew that Eskel would never do anything to put him too far outside of his own self, his own comfort. Eskel knew him better than any other person, inside and out. He would never ask for anything outside of what Geralt would ever want, and he would handle Geralt with the finest gloves like the finest china.

Geralt’s eyes flicked to Eskel’s fingers. Before, when he had been teasing, Eskel’s fingers tapped his hip and flexed impatiently. An act. But in that moment, while Geralt was deciding just how he wanted to find his pleasure? His fingers were still, his posture relaxed and his eyes searching Geralt’s as if he could find the answers to all of life’s problems in the sunrise-golden irises.

Geralt cleared his throat and smoothed his hands over his thighs. “I...I want it to be a surprise, please.”

Eskel smiled warmly, clicking to lock his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. “Alright, good. But...and just so you know, I would’ve said this either way, but you have to be vocal with me. Need you to be honest, all evening. Less, more, not enough, stop. Anything and everything that you’re feelin’, I need to know. You have to promise me that, Geralt.”

Sure, Geralt was putting his trust, his vulnerability, his control, into Eskel’s well-worn hands. But...not really. They both had control, they both knew that this was a two-person dance that needed communication. And Geralt knew that Eskel would never ask for something that Geralt could not give, not now and not ever. So Geralt didn’t need to think twice about nodding, saying, “Of course, Eskel. I promise.”

“Wonderful,” Eskel rumbled, slipping back into the dominant headspace now that he had gotten confirmation of their needs. “Now, let’s get in the car.”

The car ride was quiet, peaceful. Eskel drove, one of his hands gripping onto Geralt’s thigh the entire journey. Not with any sort of force, but strong enough for Geralt’s mind to latch on to and yearn for more. Besides that, Geralt didn’t really know where they were heading. He figured it would be somewhere nice, especially as Eskel had spent so long planning this evening out.

“I can hear you thinkin’ from over here,” Eskel grinned, peering over at him before returning his eyes to the road. “Go on. Ask.”

Geralt swallowed and blinked out the window at the sunset, bright oranges and reds and purples painted across the sky. “What, uh… where are we going for dinner?”

Eskel grinned and squeezed his thigh lightly, pouring every ounce of his love into the tips of his fingers to bleed into Geralt’s leg. “I’m taking us to Falenti’s, I know you like their Saltimbocca…”

Geralt’s eyes lit up and flicked over to Eskel, finding the self-satisfied grin that tugged at the scar over his cheek. “I do love that sauce. Will… will you order for us?”

“Was hoping you’d ask that,” Eskel blinked slowly, his voice tumbling lower and lower the closer they got to the restaurant. “I like when you let me take care of you like this. You won’t have to think about a thing.”

Geralt preened the slightest bit in his seat and threaded his fingers with Eskel’s, letting Eskel stroke his thumb over the back of his knuckles as they pulled into the parking lot.

The weight of the toy in Geralt’s bum shifted as he rose out of the car, drawing a gasp up into his chest. Eskel knew, of course, and walked around to slide his hand back into Geralt’s. “Alright? Still good?”

Geralt grinned and leaned his head onto Eskel’s shoulder. “Yeah, still good. I’m… I’m excited.”

Eskel’s eyes went soft and his smile felt so much more real in that moment when he pressed his lips onto the crown of Geralt’s head. “Me too, love. Me too.”

Eskel led the two of them into the restaurant, a burst of cool air welcoming them as the door opened. They approached the host stand, finding a young woman with kind eyes and a bright, if not a little too much so, smile on her face. “Hello gentlemen, doing alright this evening?”

Eskel smiled and pulled Geralt closer, wrapping his arm around Geralt’s hip. “We’re doin’ wonderful, thank you. We have a reservation under ‘Rivia,’ please.”

The young woman tapped a few keys on the desktop in front of her before grabbing two menus. “Follow me to your table, your server will be right with you.”

Eskel guided Geralt by the hip, feeling the barely-there softness of the tummy that he had been trying to get Geralt to build for years beneath his fingers. Just as requested, the two of them were escorted to a booth in the corner, sequestered away from other patrons. Private, or as much as they could be in a public restaurant.

It was dark, lit only by a lone sconce on the wall that bathed the mahogany table in a warm glow. “As I said, your server will be with you shortly.” The young woman left their menus on the table and departed, leaving the two men to relax into their seats across from one another.

Eskel watched Geralt shimmy and shift around in the seat, attempting to find a comfortable position with the secret hidden inside of him. Eskel smirked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and onto the table, Geralt’s eyes immediately shooting over to it and back up to Eskel.

“Now, we won’t start at least until I’ve ordered,” Eskel said as he opened his menu, his tone borderline flippant. “After, though, ’s free game.”

Their server came over, another young woman dressed entirely in black, with a black apron tied around her waist. “Hello gentlemen,” her voice was quiet and calm, gentle waves in the dark air. “My name is Lou, I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you boys off with something to drink, or are you ready to order?”

Eskel slid his foot up the outside of Geralt’s calf, causing him to jump slightly in his seat. Eskel grinned with a wink before turning to Lou. “I think we’re ready, actually. We’ll just do water to drink, and we’ll start with the Zucchini Fritti. I’ll have the chicken Bellini, and he’ll have the Veal Saltimbocca. We’ll have to see how we’re feelin’ for dessert, so we’ll decide on that later.” Eskel’s voice was still low, almost growly, and Geralt was mesmerized as he listed off their order. Struck dumb, he watched their server bounce away before returning with their glasses of water, leaving them alone once more.

Eskel sipped his water, looking straight over the table at Geralt, whose own eyes were glued to where Eskel’s free hand now hovered over the screen of his phone.

“T-thank you for ordering for us, Eskel,” Geralt murmured, watching the minute tease of Eskel’s fingers just barely not touching the screen.

“You’re very welcome, my love,” Eskel replied, just as quietly. “Wanna start you slow, so you have a chance to get used to the feeling.”

Geralt nodded, feeling a rush of heat bloom up his chest as he squirmed a bit in his seat. Eskel chuckled, seeing the enthusiastic glint in Geralt’s eyes as a good sign.

Geralt watched as Eskel finally, gently pressed his finger to the base of the phone and dragged up, only just barely on the screen. He felt the toy rumble to life, and he gasped despite being prepared for the sensation. It was pleasant, and Geralt already itched for more.

Geralt hummed and let his eyes fall closed, his fingers gripping onto the edge of the table. “Fuck, Eskel,” he breathed, his lungs playing catch-up with how intensely his heart was beating, “f-feels so good.”

Eskel was enraptured, watching in real time as that familiar submissive haze fell over Geralt’s eyes. “’M glad, will this be what you need?”

Geralt nodded and swallowed thickly, letting his head fall to his chest. Eskel hummed and drew his fingers up under Geralt’s chin, lifting his eyes back up to him. “Words, love.”

Geralt’s cheeks flushed and Eskel smiled, keeping his eyes soft. “Y-yes, Esk. It’ll b-nnng. It’ll be perfect.”

Eskel bit the inside of his cheek as he spotted their server returning to their table just as Geralt’s hips started to shift back and forth, chasing the soft vibrations of the toy. Eskel took his finger off of the phone and Geralt’s eyes shot open, defiant and his mouth fell into a grimace that disappeared as soon as their server came into view.

“Alright boys, one order of the Zucchini Fritti. Anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thank you,” Eskel said, shooting a sly look at Geralt out of the corner of his eye.

Lou left them once more and Geralt sagged into the cushions, his chest heaving with deep breaths. “Shit. Can always trust you to let me get all caught up and then fucking cut me off-”

Eskel hummed and reached for one of the little rounds of crispy zucchini. “You gotta trust that I know what’ll be good for you. Within reason, of course, but I want you to be able to let me take the reins. Without attitude.”

“You love my attitude.”

“I do, just as I love the rest of you. But if you want to be bratty, maybe I’ll just keep you on the edge all night, not let you finish at all?”

Geralt coughed as he sipped his water, sitting back up in his seat. Well. I guess that’s me shutting up... for now. “N-no. I’ll behave. Promise.”

Eskel grinned wolfishly. “Good. Now, let’s eat for a bit, then we can keep playing.”

They ate quietly, letting their minds relax and settle back into the liminal space nestled between their brows. As the plate was emptied, Eskel reached across the table and grabbed onto Geralt’s hand. Lou came back around and took the dish, letting them know that it may be a while before their entrees came out, as there had been a mishap in the kitchens.

“Not a worry, Lou,” Eskel smiled kindly, “we’re a patient bunch.”

“Most of the time…” Geralt grumbled under his breath.

Eskel clenched his jaw and shot Geralt a Look with his eyebrows raised. “When it counts, we’re very patient. Don’t worry about us Lou, we’ll just... relax for a bit.”

Lou had no sooner spun on her heel away from her table when Eskel slid his finger back onto the screen of his phone, cueing the toy inside of Geralt to vibrate significantly more intensely than it had before. Geralt clenched his fingers in Eskel’s hand and his body clenched before relaxing right back into the weight of the toy. His hips thrusted absently with the vibrations, following the pattern that Eskel drew back and forth on his phone.

In the back of his mind, Geralt was minutely aware of their public situation, especially as the crotch of his trousers drew tighter around his growing erection. But Eskel was whispering across the table to him, boring his golden eyes up and down Geralt’s body as if it were the first and only time that he’d ever get the chance to see him like this.

“Gods, Geralt,” Eskel breathed, tracing arches up and down on his phone to increase and decrease the speed of the vibrations of the toy in waves. “You know, I bet that if anyone were to look over here right now and see you thrustin’ up so desperately into nothing, they’d be so godsdamned jealous of me... cause I’m the one that gets to sit here and watch.”

Geralt felt like he couldn’t breathe, his body like one big nerve ending that kept twitching and shaking. The toy pressed against his prostate and he could feel his cock leaking into his briefs, and he just barely bit back a moan that threatened to escape from behind his teeth. Geralt glanced up at Eskel and came this fucking close to cumming in his pants then and there.

To anyone on the outside looking in, anyone who didn’t know the intimate tells that Eskel so carefully kept stowed away, he would almost look bored as he absentmindedly scrolled around on his phone. But Geralt, who knew every minute thing that made Eskel who he was, could see right past it. Eskel’s barrel chest, dusted with coarse dark hair that peeked through the V of his unbuttoned shirt, was flushed maroon and hitched with deep breaths taken through his nose. His hand, still gripped in Geralt’s fingers, was sweaty and his eyes were dark and lusty as they tore like fire over Geralt’s skin.

Eskel slowed the toy down, tapering the vibrations until they stopped all together. Geralt knew now to trust in Eskel’s judgement, especially considering that he really was gloriously oblivious to the specifics of their surroundings. Eskel took a deep breath in and leaned over, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go. “Food’s on the way. Take a deep breath, love, you’re doing so fuckin’ well.”

Geralt let a dopey smile pull at his lips as he stretched his fingers and his legs out, still comfortably aroused, and maybe a little frustrated with being cut off again, but endlessly loved. His mind swam with the look in Eskel’s eyes, the lingering warmth of Eskel’s hand still nestled in the grip of his fingers.

Two steaming plates were set before them, deep aromas tickling Geralt’s nostrils. His mouth, having already been watering from their previous activities, sighed in contentment.

“Alright, how’s everything look?” Lou asked, looking back and forth between Eskel and Geralt.

“Looks perfect, Lou. Thank you.” Eskel smiled as Lou turned away, lifting his fork and putting together a generous mouthful of sautéed chicken smothered in a creamy white wine sauce with roasted peppers and olives. His eyes fluttered shut as the softly savoury taste hit his tongue, indulgent and instantly satisfying the craving in his stomach. He still felt the tingles of a craving much lower, baser, but it was quieted for the time being.

Geralt discreetly adjusted himself as soon as Lou had stepped away, giving him the perfect timing to make himself comfortable once more. His prosciutto wrapped veal wafted a heady scent of sage and fire-roasted garlic up to smother his senses, and though Geralt could not ignore the still weight resting in his bum, he found himself seeking out the intense flavors that rested atop the plate.

The two of them ate in relative silence for a bit, broken only by the occasional murmur or offer to try each others’ dish. Every now and then, Eskel would nudge his knee up against Geralt’s, putting soft pressure to just... feel him.

“Geralt...” Eskel put down his fork and finished chewing, looking for his husband’s eyes across the table.

“Yes, love?” Geralt’s eyes flicked up briefly to Eskel’s, then back again when he saw the fond look at him across the table.

“Can—sorry, do you mind if we step out? I’d like to just talk for a bit if that’s alright. Only if you want, if you need to stay in it, I’m happy to stay.”

Geralt’s chewing slowed as he, too, lowered his fork. “Sure, we can pause. You alright?”

Eskel smiled reassuringly, “Yes, Geralt, I’ve never been better.” He reached for Geralt’s hand across the table, “I’m just… I’m incredibly happy, you know. With the life we built and the life we share.”

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Geralt said fondly. “If we can ever get the tiling in the downstairs bathroom finished.”

“That is your pet project Geralt, and you know it.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I finally decided on the colour—”

“Aaand let me guess: you’re waitin’ for it to go on sale?”

“That was one time, Eskel, and you know it.”

“That’s all beside the point. This all started because I was feelin’ a bit romantic, you ornery old thing.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to side track you. There’s a reason I married you, you know?” Geralt sighed fondly and rested his chin in his hand.

“Only the one?”

Geralt shook his head with a smirk turning the corner of his lip. “If we’re counting the entirety of ‘Eskel’ as a single thing, then yeah. Just the one. Although, putting a vibrating plug in my ass and taking me out to dinner is pretty high on the list.”

“Shame those things weren’t around for our wedding night,” Eskel cheeked, waggling his eyebrows.

Geralt narrowed his eyes playfully. “First of all, are you calling us old? Secondly, I cannot imagine walking around with this thing in my ass at our reception.”

Eskel shrugged. “Who said it would’ve been you wearing it?”

“Careful, now. I can’t get too far away from the scene or I’ll never get back in.”

Stroking his thumb over the back of Geralt’s knuckles, Eskel smiled softly. “Of course, love. Maybe we’ll revisit that idea later. You know, sometimes I wonder just what I did to deserve you in my life.”

Geralt’s heart swelled and he squeezed Eskel’s hand. “You didn’t have to do anything, Esk. We deserve each other, always.”

“I love you Geralt, I can’t say it enough times, but I do. So much.”

“I know, Eskel. I love you too, forever.”

They slipped back into a comfortable silence, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s air. Their plates slowly emptied, neither of them bothering to worry about saving anything for leftovers. Just as Geralt was sopping up the remainder of the sauce at the bottom of his plate with a chunk of bread, Eskel coughed lightly.

“Wanna get back into the scene, love?”

Geralt nodded, giving Eskel’s hand one last squeeze before slipping it away. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Might need a minute, though.”

Eskel smoothed his hand on his jeans and set his fork down on his barren plate. He dropped his voice back down into the just barely growly register that he knew set Geralt’s blood alight. “What do you need from me?”

Geralt’s fingers flinched and he dropped the bread onto the plate, spattering the sauce just a bit. “Shit, just that. J-just talk to me for a second.”

Eskel cocked his head and leaned back in his seat, letting that bold streak that rested low in his stomach crawl up into his chest and down the line of his shoulders. “Want me to tell you how good you’ve been all evening? How I’ve been sittin’ here, watchin’ you give yourself over to me like it’s still that very first time, or maybe how nicely you fit in the palm of my hand?”

Geralt’s eyes, already hazy and soft, followed Eskel’s hand as he reached over to his neglected phone. He felt himself clench around the toy in anticipation, but Eskel only slipped the phone into his pocket and bored his intensely golden eyes back into him, so deep that Geralt felt his very being warm with the twin suns of Eskel’s eyes.

“You alright, Geralt? Feelin’ good, drifty?”

Geralt hummed and nodded his head, resting his hand in his lap, letting just the tip of his fingers brush over his comfortably interested cock. His breath pushed out of his lungs in a soft keen, briefly closing his eyes in an effort to keep himself together under Eskel’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Geralt, I need words. Feelin’ good?”

Geralt cleared his throat and reopened his eyes, patting his own thigh a few times to wrangle what little bit of control that he still felt behind his eyes. “Y-yeah, Esk. ‘M floaty. But not too floaty…”

“Good,” Eskel rumbled, and Geralt felt the soft vibrations up his spine even without the toy inside of him even being turned on. “Will you be alright for me to run to the restroom for a moment?”

Geralt clenched his jaw with a light chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll try not to get into too much trouble without you here.”

Eskel smirked. “Geralt, that’s the only time you ever do get into trouble. Ah, hang on. Lou’s coming back, but I’ll take care of her. Just be good for me, yeah?”

Geralt hummed a quiet, “Yeah, Esk,” just as Lou rounded the corner of their table. “Everything good here? I’m guessing you won’t need any boxes,” she smiled, lifting their empty plates away from the table and balancing them on her arm.

Eskel smiled back, crossing his legs beneath the table and brushing against Geralt’s shin. “It was delicious. Now, I think we’re actually going to skip dessert tonight, but is there any way that we can just sit here for a bit longer? We don’t get to go out terribly often, an-”

Lou held up her free hand and shook her head with a grin. “Not a worry, gentlemen. You can have this spot for as long as you’d like, and I’ll leave you be. Just poke your head around if you need anything, and I’ll leave the check up at the host stand.”

Eskel nodded and he shifted in his seat, the weight of his phone burning a hole into his patience. “That’s perfect, Lou. Thank you so much, we’ll be sure to give you a shout if we need anything, but I think we’re good for the time being.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled and turned away, leaving Eskel to quirk his brow at Geralt.

“Sure you’ll be alright?”

“Mhm. I’m good. Gonna miss hearing you talk. But ‘s okay. You’ll be right back.”

Eskel smiled and nodded. “I sure will. Won’t be but a moment. Promise.”

Geralt watched through hooded eyes as Eskel sauntered off towards the restrooms, his shoulders broad and imposing even through the low, dim lights of the dining area. Geralt’s mind felt warm and while he immediately felt the loss of Eskel being within his reach, he knew that rationally, Eskel would never actually leave him for long, especially not during a scene. Over the years, they’ve figured out a balance, a dance back and forth of where their hard boundaries lie, and what could give with the well of their trust. Geralt allowed himself to relax back into his seat and his mind began to wander, floating out into the hazy edges of his awareness while waiting for Eskel’s return.

In the meantime, Eskel pushed open the swinging door to the restroom and let it fall shut behind him. He took a deep, calming breath in through his nose and held it, clenching his jaw as he counted back from ten. Watching Geralt, so willing, so relaxed, so eager, fuck it was doing things to his head. Well, and to his cock.

Eskel stepped up to one of the urinals and undid his belt and opened the fly of his jeans, letting his half-hard cock bounce into the open air. He was tempted, just for a moment, to take himself well and truly in hand and finally grant himself that sweet relief that had been hovering on the horizon for the better part of the evening. But no, no he couldn’t do that. It would be wrong, a cheat in their game. They were both clearly aware of the expectations, and Geralt had handed himself over to Eskel with the explicit trust that Eskel would be in complete control. And Eskel choosing to get up and leave Geralt alone in the tender embrace of his light subspace while he jerked off in the bathroom felt... wrong. Like he distorted and tainted the trust that was so delicately gifted to him and had lost control.

They both knew that nights like this, placing their very beings into the hands of one another in pursuit of comfort and indulgence, were for each other. They focused in on what the other needed, what they wanted. Geralt trusted Eskel to handle him with hands honed from years of practice with each other, and Eskel trusted Geralt to do the same.

Eskel sighed and hung his head, closing his eyes and focusing on anything other than the hot thrum of his blood calling him to seek out his climax. He relieved himself quickly, tucking himself back into his jeans and washing his hands. The hum of the hand-dryer was still resounding off the walls as Eskel glanced around the empty bathroom. He smirked to himself as he slipped his phone out of his pocket. Just a tease…

Geralt’s mind had just started to feel thorny around the edges, turning in on itself with harsh spikes when he felt that same soft rumble start up at the base of his spine. Ah, he thought to himself as his lips turned up in a soft grin, just as I was starting to miss him.

His arousal swelled between his thighs as the vibrations intensified, growing higher and dipping back down to a gentle hum in slow waves. Geralt’s mind wandered to Eskel, his beautiful, glorious Eskel, hidden away and still thinking of him. He arched his back and tried to sink his hips into the comforting pulsations inside of him, so achingly close to the sensitive bundle of nerves that had been relaxed away. His body yearned for more, everything tensing and relaxing and seeking out that which had not yet been awarded.

Three long, hard bursts shot up his spine and Geralt gasped, his eyes flicking over to where Eskel was exiting through the restroom door. His eyes were on Geralt the entire way back to the table, but Geralt’s eyes were on Eskel’s thumb, still pressing up and down on the screen of his phone. Feeling the patterns as he watched the separate movements that caused them in real time made his cock flex hard in his jeans, his hips stuttering as he felt the beginnings of climax overtake him.

“Not yet,” Eskel growled as he slid back into his seat, lifting his thumb completely from the phone screen. The toy came to a halt, dragging the explosive release of Geralt’s climax back down into the small of his belly as his lungs heaved in desperate breaths.

The phone clattered onto the table just as Geralt felt the tinglings of feeling return back to his fingers where they had been gripping onto the edge of the table. Geralt clenched and unclenched his jaw, seeking Eskel’s eyes in his own.

“Got pretty close there, huh?” Eskel drawled, thick and husky with just the hint of a tease seeping from behind his teeth.

Geralt swallowed thickly and nodded, screwing his eyes shut, still achingly within reach of his climax, even without the constant hum of the toy inside of him.

“Do you wanna cum, Geralt?”

His eyes shot back open and found Eskel’s finger hovering over the phone’s screen. He felt every thing all around them: the cool air coming from the vents above them, the well worn cushions beneath them, the lacquered wood beneath his fingers, the rough denim over his thighs. The soft cotton of his briefs sliding and pressing into his cock, slick and catching with the amount of precome that had been leaking from his neglected tip.

“Tell me,” Eskel whispered, coaxing Geralt along, putting the words right at the tip of his tongue, leaving Geralt with only the need to push them from his lungs. “Tell me, and you’ll have it.”

The air felt suspended around them for what could have been the beginnings of a lifetime. Neither of them could look away, their golden eyes melting into ore between their prone forms. Geralt was ready, so fucking ready, and Eskel was ready to give it to him. It wasn’t exactly the most difficult choice that Geralt had ever had to make.

“Yes,” Geralt breathed, tasting his desperation claw its way up from his chest. “P-please, Esk. M... make me cum.”

Eskel smiled, his teeth bared and almost wild as he pressed his finger firmy down to the screen, causing the toy to vibrate strong and fast and hard, pulsing against Geralt’s prostate and fucking holding there. They both knew how close Geralt was. His cheeks were flushed high and pink, trailing in soft brushstrokes down his neck and below the collar of his shirt. Eskel reached out with his free hand and grasped onto Geralt’s once more, watching Geralt’s hips reach a breaking point in their rhythm before suddenly stilling.

Geralt came with only the slightest noise, just little stunted, guttural grunts escaping up out of his chest, his eyes screwed shut as his climax overtook him. Geralt’s hips twitched and stuttered in aborted thrusts, completely unconsciously. His conscious mind was nowhere to be found, floating through time and space with the comfort of being cared for and grasped onto whiting out his vision. His mouth hung agape and he threw his head back against the high back of the chair, his chest heaving, racing, trying to bring him back into his own mind and into Eskel’s waiting hands.

Their surroundings started to push at the fuzzy edges of Geralt’s mind, the muted sounds of a still busy restaurant, Eskel’s finger slowing the toy down to a low rumble, the cooling wetness pooled in his briefs. Eskel’s voice, fading into the soft mush of his mind, “-so fucking good, Geralt. So beautiful, you’re killin’ me. You’ve gotta know how much I need you, need you more than air, love.”

Geralt blinked his eyes back open, finding Eskel in a... precarious position. His own chest dark and ruddy, little pearls of sweat beading in the hollows of his exposed collarbones. Sitting across from Geralt with his broad shoulders, hips slightly slumped to accommodate the now far-too-tight crotch of his trousers, eyes dark, mouth open slightly with his free hand beneath the edge of the table. Gerat could see from the way that he was moving that he was just barely palming himself through his pants, not seeking his own climax yet, but so starvingly desperate that he truly could not help himself.

Eskel’s thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles over the back of Geralt’s knuckles, escorting his mind with an anchor to tether his focus. “M-may I come sit next to you?”

Geralt smiled dopily and nodded, chuckling a bit as Eskel clambered out of his seat and into the spot at his side with all of the grace of an over-excited newborn horse that hadn’t quite found its legs yet. Eskel set his hand at the nape of Geralt’s neck and pulled him close, slotting their lips together with a fervor that only barely made its way to the light of day. Eskel rumbled soft whispers into Geralt’s mouth as they kissed, praises and words of wonderment, somehow sounding half-drunk and stone-cold sober in the same breath.

Eskel pulled back only enough to allow words to drift over the air between their lips, resting their foreheads together and rubbing his thumbs back and forth through the soft hairs at the base of Geralt’s skull. “How’re you feeling, love? Comin’ back?”

Geralt smiled, blinking slowly at Eskel and glancing around. He was no longer exactly blindingly comfortable, especially with the feeling of his own spend cooling in the tight embrace of his briefs, though he still felt safe and content and sated, wrapped in Eskel’s arms. “Yeah, Esk. ‘M good. That was... fuck, that was nice.”

The smile that Eskel shot Geralt was one that would saunter unbidden through Geralt’s mind until the day he ceased breathing on this earth. It was light and soft, lilies preening in the moonlight under which they bloomed. “Yeah? Here, hang on. You sh-”

“Yeah yeah, drink some water. I know,” Geralt grinned, pecking his husband on the lips once more before pulling away, though Eskel still kept him comfortably within his embrace. The glass of water, sweaty with condensation, was cool as Geralt lifted it to his mouth, letting it calm his humming muscles as the water spilled out and down into his throat. “You always break out of the scene so soon, ‘s always when I cum-”

“You’re just so damn sweet when you finish, Ger…” Eskel nuzzled his nose into the crook of Geralt’s neck, his brown curls tickling the tender skin and bringing goosebumps in their wake.

The weight of the toy still sat warm inside of Geralt, and though he flexed around just the smallest tinge of oversensitivity, it was... well. It was another thing for his mind to focus in on and cling to. “So, handsome,” Geralt set the empty glass down onto the table and ran his finger down Eskel’s neck, trailing through the dark thatch of chest hair that peeked out and hooked into the V of his open shirt. “Wanna let me take you home?”

They wasted no time in making themselves scarce, Eskel nearly ripping his jeans in his haste to remove his wallet from his pocket. He left a (thankfully, already prepared) wad of cash on the table as a tip for Lou and tucked his far too obvious for polite company erection into the waist of his pants. Eskel scooted out of the booth first, holding out a hand for Geralt to take as he followed suit.

They hurried to the host stand, settling their bill before leaving, tearing through the front doors as if their very lives depended on them getting back to their home right the fuck now. Eskel reached over the center console once they got into the car and kissed Geralt with enough heat to make a damn volcano jealous, nipping his lip and breathing his name into his mouth before pulling away like he had been struck by lightning.

“Gotta-” Eskel swallowed thickly and put on his seatbelt with a look on his face like it was physically paining him to part from the soft warmth of Geralt’s lips. “Gotta get home, or else I’m just gonna fuck you in the car.”

Geralt hummed and did up his own seatbelt, letting Eskel shift the car into drive and pull away from the restaurant and onto the highway. “A tempting offer. But both of our backs would be fucking shot in the morning. Gettin’ too old for that.”

Eskel chuckled, crooking his eyebrow. “You’re tellin’ me. Maybe we should take up yoga-”

“Don’t you even start. Unless I get to watch you do nude yoga on a mountaintop while the sun is rising, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Maybe we’ll head up the mountains for our next vacation, see the leaves change colors?”

Geralt sighed with a lazy smile playing at his lips. “T-that’d be nice.”

Eskel hummed, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. That is, until they got about halfway home and Geralt started to get bored. He looked over into Eskel’s lap, finding him still hard and tenting his jeans, his hands twitching restlessly on the steering wheel.

“You know,” Geralt hummed, reaching over and placing his hand high up on Eskel’s thigh, firm and holding fast just shy of where he knew Eskel was aching for his touch. “I have some ideas for just what I’d like for us to do when we get home.”

Eskel quirked his brow and kept his eyes stubbornly on the road, though his knuckles grew white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. “Y-yeah?”

Geralt then started whispering, honey-laced sweetness tinging the fucking list that he rattled off into Eskel’s ear. Everything from how he wanted to draw out Eskel’s pleasure for as long as he could last, down to licking the salt of his spend off of every inch of where he marked Eskel’s body as his own. Eskel groaned and his breath hitched every now and then, his knee bouncing with anticipation and just the briefest tinge of impatience.

Eskel threw the car into park once they pulled far enough into their driveway to not get clipped by cars passing on the road, his parking job about as straight as he was. He jumped out of the car and didn’t even make it to the damned door before he started stripping out of his clothes, popping open the buttons of his green button down and tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his jeans. Geralt followed behind him with a smirk, stepping across the threshold of the house and over Eskel’s haphazardly abandoned shoes.

Geralt pulled the front door shut and locked it just as Eskel crowded up behind him, spinning him ‘round and cupping the nape of his neck with his hand.

Eskel kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth and moaning, trying to undo the dainty, pearly buttons of Geralt’s shirt that he had so delicately done up only a few hours prior.

“Geralt,” he could taste Eskel’s moan on the tip of his tongue, calling out to him and begging for everything that he had.

“Yes, love?”

“Take me to bed.” Eskel’s eyes were wide and dark with lust as he finally yanked the sleeves down Geralt’s arms and let it fall to the floor.

Geralt led him towards the stairs, both of them frantically stripping their clothes away, leaving Eskel completely bare and Geralt still in his briefs when they got to the foot of their bed. Eskel dropped to his knees and mouthed at the soft cotton of Geralt’s briefs, nosing along the mostly-soft cock that was still damp with his spend.

Eskel’s eys swam with the vision of Geralt, his hands spread out on their table as his climax washed over him, his eyes hazed and his jaw slack with all-encompassing pleasure. Eskel shifted his knees forward and dragged his hard cock along Geralt’s shin as he teased his cock with his lips, suckling and groaning into his hip.

“E-Esk,” Geralt breathed, sinking his fingers into mahogany brown hair that had no business being as soft as it was. “Fuckkk, you’re too good to me.”

Eskel shook his head and rutted his hips against Geralt’s leg, dripping precome into the coarse hairs that trailed down towards his feet. “N-no. Not good enough. Never good enough for you. But you make… you make me better. Better than I ever thought I could be.”

Geralt knew that feeling. Hells, he felt it every damn day. But they both knew, logically, that they were everything that the other needed, everything they wanted. Eskel would say it though, whenever it popped into his mind, he would question why Geralt chose him. After all these years, everything that they went through together, he still couldn’t let himself believe that he could be enough for Geralt.

Geralt gently tugged Eskel’s hair, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful golden eyes, brimming suns nestled in the warmest face one could ever hope to find.

“Doesn’t matter if you think you’re good enough,” Geralt murmured, tracing the line of Eskel’s brow and down his jaw, “but that I choose you. Everyday, I choose you. I love you more than every moon, every planet, every star in the sky. And I love you more every day.”

Eskel groaned and leaned forward, licking the line of Geralt’s growing arousal through his briefs. He could taste Geralt’s spend through his briefs as he licked and sucked at the dark fabric, coaxing his husband back to full hardness while Geralt’s fingers combed his hair back from his face, his spine shuddering.

“F-fuck,” Eskel gasped, resting his forehead into the crook of Geralt’s hip, still licking softly at the base of his cock through his briefs. “Ger, I-I need to be inside of you, please”

Well, and who was Geralt to deny a request like that?

"Hmmm, best quit dawdling with my briefs, then. Get in me," Geralt rumbled with his fingers still snugly nestled in Eskel's hair.

"Is this proactive enough for you, then?" Eskel smirked up at Geralt as he yanked his briefs down his legs. Geralt chuckled as he stepped out of them and Eskel shouldered his way between his thighs. He was gentle as he reached back behind Geralt’s balls, wrapping his fingers around the base of the toy and wiggling it free, soothing his fingers around the now empty, pliant hole. “Fuck, you’re still so fucking wet. All this lube and cum here, bet I could just slip right into this loose little hole, couldn’t I?”

And then Geralt felt his feet leave the ground as Eskel gripped hard onto his hips and shoved him backwards, sending him flying through the air to bounce onto the bed. Now, Geralt would deny it till the day he died, but he let out a short, barking, high pitched squeal of delight in the brief moment of being sent airborne by his husband’s hands.

Eskel crawled onto the bed and hovered over him, growling as Geralt planted his feet and twisted the two of them, pushing and yanking and wrestling atop the covers until Geralt was firmly settled atop Eskel, straddling his tree-trunk thighs.

Geralt settled his bum on Eskel’s hips, slotting their cocks together and thrusting lightly, sending sparks up both of their spines at the sudden rush of pleasure that shot through their bones. Eskel keened from the backs of his teeth and his grip tightened on Geralt’s hips. “D-don’t tease, please-“

Geralt grinned wolfishly. “You’ve been teasing me all night, love. You can’t take even a little?”

Eskel growled and his hips thrust harder, faster, bouncing Geralt in his lap. “You already came, I’ve been half-hard since I got you dressed.”

Geralt ground his hips down and cut Eskel off with a groan, still the great heft of muscle and softness under his hands. “I want to ruin you, love.”

Eskel moaned and threw his head back. “Do it, please Geralt. I’m yours. Fuckin’ wreck me.”

Geralt shifted his hips and lifted up on his knees, taking Eskel’s cock in his hand. He watched the shiver ripple through the small of Eskel’s stomach before he scooted himself forward and lined him up at his comfortably stretched entrance and started to sink down oh so slowly.

“F-f... fucking shit, Esk-” Geralt could barely connect strings between words as he was filled so completely, so perfectly.

Eskel moaned loud and unabashedly, his voice cracking as Geralt’s hips met flush with his own. “I-I was right. Sti-mmm. Still so fuckin’ loose, took me like nothing.”

“Now,” Geralt leaned down and brushed his thumbs over Eskel’s nipples, relishing the shockwave that it sent through the surface of his skin. “I’m going to ride you, and I want to make you cum so hard that you won’t be able to walk until tomorrow. Deal?”

Eskels eyes rolled back in his head as Geralt clenched his muscles around his cock, groaning into the space that kept Geralt’s lips just out of reach of his own. “Hu-h... yes, fuck. Deal, p-please…”

Geralt circled his hips and rolled back and forth, not driving Eskel in and out, just coaxing him into every nook and cranny nestled away inside of him. He sat up, bracing his hands on Eskel’s chest, his fingers dimpling into the soft muscle that tensed under his touch. “Mmm, feel so good, love. I wanna watch you shatter for me-”

Eskel’s breath hitched as Geralt shifted up and rocked back down, the slick slide of his hole gripping his cock like the last tether to the map of euphoria he was so desperately following. “I-shit, not... not gonna last long, not like this--”

Geralt leaned back down, the angle pushing Eskel deeper inside of him with each soft, devastatingly slow roll of his hips. “Then don't.”

Eskel felt every inch of his cock dragging along Geralt’s walls, impossibly warm and slick and tight, overwhelming him as he finally found the path to his release. But Geralt was trying him, forcing his hand at patience and restraint. Long, slow thrusts down, driving them further into truly becoming one. His mind frayed at the edges, electric tendrils sparking alight as Geralt’s pace just barely, minutely started to falter, both of them finding themselves at the edge of their patience.

And as Geralt was ruining Eskel, Eskel blabbered endlessly about how good Geralt was. How he loved seeing that floaty look in Geralt's eyes at dinner, knowing Geralt was trusting him entirely. Fuck, how good he looked when he came, and how Eskel could hardly control himself.

Eskel knew how to make it go a little faster. Geralt admired Eskel’s patience, it was something that had cradled him during the hardest days and the warmest times. Especially since Geralt had the patience of a hamster. All it took was a little... tactile persuasion.

Eskel’s hands found those same marks on Geralt’s hips that he had left behind earlier in the evening and fucking lifted him, dropping him back down as Eskel’s cock drove into him at the pace he’d been chasing so desperately.

Geralt slid his hips up and down, taking off at a breakneck pace that Eskel encouraged with wordless gasps and huffs from the depths of his lungs. Their skin slapped hard, Eskel’s shouts of pleasure tearing from his throat nearly drowning out Geralt’s sighs and quiet groans in response.

Geralt tried to keep control, to keep Eskel worn thin and ragged. But Eskel had at least 50 pounds of muscle on him, and besides, Geralt was fucking weak for being a little manhandled like he was nothing. He could feel every shudder that worked its way beneath Eskel’s skin, calling out to him and enticing him closer and closer to his own release.

“E-Esk-” Geralt breathed, his thighs quaking and his stomach clenching with anticipation of what was about to spill from his lips. “Ta...take what you need. F-fuck me, go on-”

Eskel ground his hips up, shoving his cock deep within Geralt with a dull roar that clawed its way from his throat and into the static air that dripped with their arousals. Eskel sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, his fingers digging into the hollows at his shoulder blades before twisting them around, practically throwing Geralt down onto the bed and hovering over him.

His hair, soft and curled at the ends, dripping beads of sweat onto Geralt’s cheeks, hung down in curtains that bounced and flailed as Eskel ploughed into Geralt. He was mindless, everything he ever wanted to know was hurtling towards him relentlessly from where it was tucked away inside of Geralt. Eskel would follow Geralt to the very ends of the Earth, and Melitele’s tits, it fucking felt like he was about to find that threshold.

Their arousal kept building, bouncing and amplifying off of each other, neither of them able to so much as think further than the immediate moment. Completely lost, with only each other to guide them. It was an overwhelming, all encompassing euphoria that just refused to reach a peak. They sprinted together, needing just that one last little push to finally plummet into blissful oblivion.

It was Geralt who finally spoke, husky whispers as his nails scratched along Eskel’s scalp, clawing at his hair in an effort to find something to hang on to. His bottom lip was swollen from where he’d been biting it, and the words tumbled off of his tongue unbidden. “Esk-love, p…please-“

Geralt didn’t often beg. But when he did? It was almost exclusively when Eskel was balls deep inside of him. And Eskel was weak for it.

The fucking sound that Eskel made when he climaxed was world-shattering, to say the least. A growl torn up from his chest that bursted into a shout, followed by high, breathy gasps into Geralt’s mouth. Eskel’s eyes screwed shut as he ground deep, his hips stuttering and his jaw flexing and shaking as his climax overtook him. Geralt felt the vibrations of Eskel’s chest where it pressed into his own, and when Eskel finally leaned down and mashed his lips to Geralt’s:that’s what finally set him off.

Geralt’s cock flexed and his legs shook where they were wrapped around Eskel’s waist, hot white spurts of spend shooting out of him. Nothing outside of that moment mattered, there was nothing that existed other than the heavy weight of Eskel resting atop him and grinding as he spilled into Geralt. Geralt’s body shook with waves of pleasure that threatened to send him into an impossible spiral into endless euphoria.

Eskel dragged his hands along Geralt’s sides, pressing his lips to any and every inch of skin that he could reach as their orgasms faded, leaving them dripping sweat and breathlessly gasping into each other.

“Damn,” Eskel panted, his voice hoarse and lined with velvet. “Geralt, you came on the sheets again.”

“Fuck,” Geralt twisted his head around, finding the small pools of his spend seeping into the dark maroon of their sheets. He grinned and stuck his tongue out, lapping up a few drops of spend from where it had spattered onto Eskel’s chin. “You love it. I’ll throw the laundry in before I go to work tomorrow.”

“We gotta get better about puttin’ the towel down,” Eskel sighed, resting his forehead down onto Geralt’s. He felt the occasional stunted flutter of Geralt’s ass around his softening cock and fuck he was so warm and good and everything Eskel could ever dream to want.

“Sheet’s are already fucked, go ahead and pull out,” Geralt murmured, trailing his fingers through Eskel’s hair and twisting around the ends.

“What if I wanna keep it in? Just for a bit,” Eskel rumbled, brushing their noses together and blinking his bright golden eyes with just enough softness to melt Geralt’s heart.

Geralt hummed and ran his hands down Eskel’s flanks. “I like when you keep me full. I could take a little nap like this.”

“Go ahead,” Eskel whispered, watching Geralt’s eyelids flutter diligently. “Rest, love. You know I’ll still be here come morning.”

Geralt shook his head and huffed from his nose. “Nuh-uh. W-wanna just hold you. Like this.”

They lay together like that for a long while, Eskel wrapped up in a tight warmth and feeling Geralt’s hands slowly track up and down and across the planes of his back. Everything was so soft, so warm, and watching Geralt’s eyes slowly drift shut, stubbornly blinking back open before falling closed, was lulling him into that liminal space that drifted just before sleep.

“L-“ Geralt cleared his throat and pressed his lips to the corner of Eskel’s mouth, right in the crook of his scar. “Love you, Esk.”

Eskel rolled them to the side and tucked Geralt into his chest, shifting their legs so that Eskel’s soft cock could still rest nestled inside of Geralt. “Love you too, Geralt. Endlessly.”

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (2)

donation drive commission for @bumblebeekitten for the next chapter of TEOBA, with the prompt: patton & virgil fluff! hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

chapter 1

warnings: miscommunication, false impression of a very bad situation for like .5 seconds, recklessness, sometimes you just gotta have a good cry

-

The next sunrise, they set out again, this time with considerably less weaponry and considerably more snacks. Roman held point again, since he was the one with the most practical experience in tracking. 

There had been a somewhat tedious argument on whether or not Patton should come, one that Roman had thoroughly lost, since it was Patton’s quick thinking and emotional attunement that kept the previous cycle’s encounter from descending into disaster. 

He had acquiesced in the end under the combined force of Logan’s reasoning and Patton’s disappointed look, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. After catching barely a wink of sleep between restless nightmares, he was feeling more grumpy than generous. 

Still, his own irritation faded as they grew closer to the rocky cliffs where he suspected the Human was, shifting into an intense concentration on the task ahead. It was a miracle that their initial encounter hadn’t gone sour, a miracle that this Human seemed young enough to be somewhat nonaggressive, and while he hoped that whatever they had said to scare the young kit off hadn’t irreparably damaged their budding acquaintanceship, he wasn’t counting on it.

He had his underarmor on for a reason.

The other two didn’t quite share his concerns. Logan’s arms had been in an excited, information-gathering flurry practically non-stop since they set out, and he and Patton had been discussing the plants and insects in the nearby forest that were relatively non toxic to them (and so would probably be no issue for a Human), and how many nutrients they would provide. None of them knew how much or what a Human needed to eat, but Patton seemed firmly of the opinion that whatever the kid was eating, it wasn’t enough. 

“Fledgelings need plenty of food and the proper nutrients to grow up healthy! A lone child in the middle of one forest can’t possibly have all the variety they need in their diet,” the Ampen insisted, feathers fluffing up at the mere idea of a kid going hungry. 

“Another important factor to note is the planet itself is not the child’s home, and so may not have the necessary nutrients available at all, let alone in one localized area,” Logan added. 

“You two have enough variety in those packs to weigh down a mountain,” Roman interjected, “so how about we focus on not scaring the kid off before we even reach them. Human senses are ludicrously strong, enough so that they’ll hear you two yakking a parsec away.” 

They agreed to be stealthier, and just in time, because Roman was pretty sure he’d found a more solid trail than the ghost-like faded prints that seemed all to trek over the place. He gestured in Crav’n sign for the two of them to stay put and stay quiet, and then followed the fresh tracks until they came to the mouth of a small cave amongst the crevices and steep drops of the pale cliffs.

He slowly stalked into the cave, keeping his movements light and quiet even as the light grew dimmer and his vision more restricted. Before it could grow too dim, however, his gaze caught on round, un-rock-like silhouettes. 

It took a moment to identify the shapes as small, limp Humlilts, all piled up around the larger Human. He nearly physically recoiled at the sight. So, this was why the small creatures had gone missing: slaughtered en masse at the hand of a Deathworlder. Not for food nor shelter, not in defense of itself or others, just for the sake of the callous cruelty and disregard for life that Humans were apparently born with. 

Humlilts were small, but Patton was scarcely bigger. Once the Human got tired of playing at mimicry, would it try to add the Ampen to the hoard of bodies?

He wasn’t going to lose another family.

Almost against his will, a low, near-subsonic growl rumbled out of his throat. He took one advancing step forward, and then… 

And then, a tiny head poked up from the pile, small dark eyes staring at him over a long snout. 

Roman nearly tripped over his own feet, astonished. There was still a living Humlilt in there? 

Before he could even finish his thought, another head appeared, and then another, until there was a sea of fluffy faces and huge ears all pointed in his direction. The undersized ungulates were fine, each and every one of them. They had simply been sleeping, all cozied up with one of the most dangerous species in the universe. 

Roman felt a strange and overwhelming mixture of relief and shame, his scales flattening down guiltily. It was too late, though, the movement had already rippled through the group until it reached the Human. Their creepy mask was absent in rest, and they pawed at their eyes sleepily as they sat up to see what all the commotion was about. There was a red mark on one of their cheeks from where it had pressed against the cave floor.

The moment they saw who stood at the entrance of their little nook, all the color drained from their face. The Humlilts shifted uneasily, and Roman found himself bracing to have thirty miniscule sets of horns charging at him. They couldn’t really hurt him, but they were persistent little things, and Patton and Logan would not be happy if a bunch of Humlillts tried to drive them away from the Human before they’d even properly spoken.

Instead of siccing the plethora of tiny mammals on him, though, the kid whistled a few notes in a perfect echo of the Humlilts all-clear call, settling them down. They carefully detangled themself from the pile, trailing a few stray twigs and leaves behind them in the process. Roman wondered absently how long they’d been building the collection of plant matter that covered them. 

A few parting trills later, the kid was in front of him, holding their bony shoulders firm but unable to conceal the tremor in their legs. They raised their chin up in what looked like a friendly Crav’n greeting, but attitude-wise seemed more along the lines of a challenging stance. 

“No hurt,” they said firmly before Roman could say a word. “No hurt small--,” a few words in their own language here, “--small good. No hurt. No hurt. Yes?” 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Roman tried to reassure them, “I swore, remember?” 

The kid stomped their foot once in… some kind of emphasis. “No hurt,” they started again with deliberate slowness, and then ended with the Humlilt whistle-greeting. Many of the Humlilts whistled back from where they were still observing the two of them. The small cavern echoed with the sound eerily. 

“You don’t want me to hurt the Humlilts? The small creatures?” Roman asked, gesturing to the pile of fluff and hooves, and was rewarded with the kid seeming satisfied. 

“Yes. Small good. Good good small. No hurt.” 

Roman extended his hand palm up for another oath. “I vow not to harm your small good friends,” he intoned solemnly. The kid patted his hand twice, bobbing their own head in a curious motion. Roman could only imagine the sort of notes Logan would be taking. 

Oh, right. He’d left the others in the bushes. 

“I brought my friends, too,” he informed the kid, who blinked up at him. “Logan and Patton, remember them? Little critter?” 

He said the last words in the chirps of the Ampen language, only a little strained by his accent, and the kid visibly brightened. “Little critter!” 

“Wait right here, and I’ll get them,” Roman instructed, lowering a flat hand to convey wait. The kid probably didn’t really grasp it, but seemed content enough to stay put, shifting from one foot to the other. 

It took no time at all to find Patton and Logan, who had progressively edged closer to the cliff face as he’d taken his sweet time in there. 

“Okay, so,” he started, “I know where all the missing Humlilts went.” 

---

Virgil shuffled his feet slightly, feeling the cool stone under his toes. 

He should probably leave now, because even if the fluffy chirp alien really was there, they knew or at least suspected he was a human, and aliens hated humans. All of them, even the ones that looked soft like birds or cool like dinosaurs. 

A soft, velvety nose poked up against his hand, and he squatted to gently pat the strange little singing puppy-antelope that had parted from the group to check on him. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit as it bumped its snout against his knee, sounding like a windchime. 

Okay. Maybe not all aliens. 

He looked up at the clitter-clatter of talons on rock, and then the fluffy chirping alien really did careen into view, feathers all puffed up like that very angry owl that had roosted outside his window for three whole hours one time. The other two bigger aliens came in only moments later.

Virgil couldn’t help but shrink back slightly from where he was still crouched, because aliens were weird and sometimes they did weird things that he didn’t really… get. Typically, this would be right before they started getting really mad or shaky, and screaming at him. 

Before Fluff-Chirp could get any closer, though, the puppy-antelope had charged between them, planting its little legs and lowering its head so that the little horns were pointed out in warning. Virgil went still, eyes darting between Fluff-Chirp and the little creature, who he was pretty sure was the one with the white spot on its forehead, the one he’d named Susan after his nice neighbor. 

The cool dinosaur alien had promised not to hurt them (he was pretty sure), but would it count if the puppy-antelopes attacked them first? 

Fluff-Chirp stepped forward a little bit, and Susan let out a shrill cry like someone blowing really hard on a flute. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears as he attempted to whistle the calm-down sound, but Susan would not be budged, even as the other two aliens got all tense and twitchy.

In front of it, Fluff-Chirp stopped advancing, and instead plopped down on the ground with a soft thump. They ruffled in their bag, and Virgil was struck with the fear that they would pull out a space blaster gun to shoot Susan for trying to protect him. Hurriedly, he crawled forwards and threw his arms around the puppy-antelope (puppylope?) and hugged it close to shield it from any laser gun beams, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a grunt-grumble from the cool dinosaur, and the click-click-click of the bunches of arms of the blue one moving around, but all he heard from Fluff-Chirp was shuffling, and then—

“Hello good morning,” the fluffy alien said. Or at least, that was what Virgil thought the birdsong-like words meant. 

Fluff-Chirp always said it when waking up in their little camp, and Virgil had said it back, because that was just basic manners, especially when someone gives you stuff. Fluff-Chirp had given him a bunch of sweet sliced up fruit, kind of with the feeling of mangoes and the taste of strawberries. It had reminded him of home. 

It… kind of smelled like Fluff-Chirp’s fruit now, actually. 

—

Patton watched hopefully as the kid slowly opened one eye to peek over at them. 

He hadn’t meant to scare the poor little guy by rushing in, he’d just been absolutely delighted to hear that not only would he get to see some Humlilts after all, but also that the kid seemed to have some company after all.

Some very loyal company, if the one threat-displaying at him was any indication. Patton was careful not to engage, particularly since further back in the cave, he could see a whole assembly of tiny, reflective eyes. Roman would probably just hold him up in the air if there was any real danger, but it was the principle of the matter. He didn’t want to upset the little guys! 

Or the kid, who had finally spotted the dishes of fruit Patton had set out. 

“You wanna come eat with me, little critter?” Patton offered, patting the ground near him. 

“Little critter…,” the Human murmured. Their face was much more expressive now that it wasn’t mostly concealed by wood, and the kid looked painfully young. Probably no more than seven or eight sun cycles. Patton’s hearts twanged in sympathy.  

Slowly, like they were waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under their feet, the kid scooted forward enough that they could grab a few pieces of the dana fruit, setting one down in front of the Humlilt to distract it. Patton eye-crinkled encouragingly, and took a piece of his own to nibble on. 

“Do you remember me? I’m Patton. Patton,” he emphasized, ‘pat’-ing his own chest in example. 

The kid paused mid-bite, and then swiped their wrist over their mouth before mumbling, “Patton,” back. Patton glowed with happiness. 

“And that’s Logan,” he said, bolstered by one apparent success. Logan obligingly stepped forwards and gestured to himself. 

“I am Logan,” he enunciated clearly. 

The kid, who had stopped eating to focus wholeheartedly on this new task, scrunched his brow up. “I am Logan?” 

“No, not quite,” Logan corrected gently. “Logan. I am Logan.” He cast a meaningful look to Patton. 

“And I am Patton!” he added cheerfully, gesturing between the two of them. “Logan! Patton!”

“Logan,” the kid mimicked, looking at the Ulgorii and then the Ampen, “Patton.” 

“You got it! Good job!” Patton noticed that the kid was very careful to keep their hands in their lap, and wondered if Humans were normally this withdrawn, or if exposure to other aliens had caused this reticence. 

“Good job?” the kid echoed, wide eyed. They looked to Roman curiously, though only for a moment before dropping their gaze. 

“I am Roman,” Roman surprised them both by beating them to the introductory punch. 

“... Roman?” the kid offered, and got a chorus of nonsense praise for their effort. They bared their little teeth and clapped their hands together, and it took the three of them an alarmed pause and exchange of glances to realize that they weren’t, in fact, being threatened by a youngling. 

“Joy? Or perhaps, contentment?” Logan was mumbling to himself. “The skin around the child’s eyes folds much like an Ampen expression of happiness, so…” 

“It would make more sense to be happy after receiving praise, right?” replied Roman, who had gotten a bit bristly from nerves for a moment. Patton resisted the urge to elbow the both of them into not saying long, confusing sentences. Luckily, the kid seemed too occupied with their own thoughts to notice. 

“Patton, Logan, Roman,” they recited, looking at each of them in turn. Then, very carefully, they reached up and patted their own chest. “Virgil. I am Virgil?” 

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then Patton trilled in delight, clapping his hands in an echo of the Human’s gesture, in hopes that it would convey his own happiness and pride in the kid’s quick learning. The kid jumped, but then did that teeth-bearing smile again.

“Virgil!” he tested out, not quite getting the Human tones right, but that was okay because he could practice! “Virgil Virgil Virgil! Yes! That’s you!” 

“I am Virgil!” the Human was practically bouncing in place as they matched Patton’s energy, and Patton couldn’t help but dart forward and try to bump his head to the Human’s affectionately. 

Roman hissed something exceedingly panicked, but Patton was already using one of the Human’s bent legs to reach, and then he was brushing his antenna to the kid-- to Virgil’s forehead, and then the Human was lifting their arms slowly and curling them around him, and okay now Patton was a little bit concerned, but. 

But, all Virgil did was lean into him slightly, arms bracing but not suffocating, and sniffle once, like they were holding back tears. Any resolve Patton had to not give his teammates stress ulcers faded away like dust in the wind, and he leaned in carefully and wrapped his arms around as much as he could reach of the kid’s shoulders and neck, which Roman would tell him was stupid dangerous because necks were weak points on Humans and they would absolutely react defensively-- 

Virgil promptly burst into tears, their chin coming to hook over Patton’s shoulder as a stuttering little wail worked its way out of their system. Patton made soothing nonsense croons and sung Ampen lullabies as the kid shuddered their way through a good cry, and tried not to feel too alarmed that unlike Ampens, Humans apparently leaked emotions while they cried.

Once Virgil had more or less settled down, they seemed completely wiped from the outpour of emotion, eyes drooping, body tilting to one side. For the first time since they’d arrived, the kid looked too wiped out to be nervous. Sure enough, only a few moments later, they shifted to curl up on their side, falling asleep on the cold stone easily.

Patton looked up at his teammates from where he was sitting in the center of the curled c-shape of the kid’s body, and offered them a sheepish shrug. “Well. Now we know that Humans can experience touch hunger?”

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Creator Spotlight: Desicosplay

Hello, lovely people, and welcome to our second creator spotlight!

Each month, we will highlight a different creator in our lovely fandom who features diverse characterizations of Sirius and/or Remus. We will invite you to get to know them better through questions and answers, Fandom Discourse(tm), and a featured prompt created by our guest.

For our second spotlight, we are absolutely honoured to having the presence of @desicosplay, an incredible cosplayer and writer that if you don’t follow, you should do right away. They’ve gifted us with many, many amazing gifsets, a lot of them about Sirius. Below you’ll see a little snippet of the interview and Mastani’s prompt. Under the cut you’ll be able to read the full interview. Don’t forget to share and interact with this post, and if you have anyone you’d like to recommend for a spotlight, shoot us an ask!

“Diversity means celebration. So in fan spaces, that means actively seeking out creators that you might otherwise miss. It means trying out new perspectives, or listening to new perspectives on your favorite characters. It means standing with your peers, being loud in your love and support of them. I’m not saying you have to reblog or comment on everything. Diversity is not just visual, it’s also mental. Diversity needs to be intentional and active, even if that takes place just in your head.”

Mastani’s prompt: Muggle AU! Sirius and Remus at Harry’s sporting event!

Hi! I’m Mastani, she/they/he pronouns, I’m a 1.5/2nd Generation Indian-American, and I cosplay and write fanfiction!

Q: How did you start creating in the fandom? What did you wish to bring into the fandom?

A: Almost five years ago, Laina @ohtheclevernessofme1972 convinced me to join the HPRP community. She and everyone else were so supportive of my desire to bring my culture and background to the Harry Potter characters. Eventually, I also started writing fanfiction again!

Q: What things about s/r as characters or in their relationship inspire you to create around them?

A: I think that they are very complex characters that really demonstrate how external factors affect your life, whether you like it or not. Their relationship, whether platonic, romantic, or anything in-between or outside, is also so fascinating in its potential to evolve. Wolfstar is constantly changing, and all its interpretations are totally feasible to imagine.

Q: What things would you like to highlight about the Wolfstar fandom and your experience in it?

A: My main dips into the fandom are when I cosplay Sirius, and every time, I feel so much love. The fandom is so open to any interpretations of Sirius, and it does wonders to make someone feel accepted.

Q: What type of content do you wish you saw more in the fandom?

A: This is entirely self-indulgent, but Godfather/Uncle!Sirius just make me feel so warm inside. There’s a love inside Sirius that only gets touched upon inside the books. AUs where he gets to interact with Harry as a child or teen outside the pressure of a war are just so calming and warming.

Q: What is your favourite wolfstar fancontent (fic/fanart/gifset/etc) and how does it inspire you?

A: Y’all, I have so many Wolfstar fics saved that are just stunning and several that are comfort fics. I think the biggest takeaway from all of them is the comfort the boys find in each other. All of them are AUs, and I’m inspired to depict my Wolfstar as something kind, gentle, and communicative.

Q: Which of your own identities inform your creative processes? How has that process been for you?

A: All of them! But more specifically, my racial background informs most of my process. My process is… Sporadic, to say the least. However, when I do get struck with an idea, I have to create it almost instantly. One example, Wolfstar-related, is that my Sirius cosplay has long hair, half-up in a bun. I feel like desi!Sirius would celebrate his heritage by growing his hair long, which also is a nice, “screw you,” to societal and familial constraints.

Q: What advice do you have for other content creators with diverse backgrounds in the fandom? What would you say to people that might feel they don’t have the “right” history/experience/characteristics to participate in the creation of content related to Wolfstar?

A: think the best advice for participation I have comes from the iconic Jay @siriussly-serious, Rest in Power. “Go. Get in. Dive in. Fucking head first. Fuck that, cannonball your butt right in there and make a damn splash…” There is no, “right,” history/experience/background. These characters are fictional, but they can reflect our world. Our world is not homogenous. So why should fictional worlds and characters be that way? These stories are ours, and we shape them to be whatever we want them to be. If you want to create, that’s all the prerequisite you need.

Q: How could we build a more diverse fandom?

A: This blog is a great example of how to build a diverse fandom. Celebrating creators with diverse backgrounds and being loudly supportive of them makes us want to stay. Finding communities that celebrate, not just accept, can make a world of difference. So, raise your voice and love on your favorite creators.

Q: What’s your favourite thing to modify in Sirius’s or Remus’s characterizations to bring new perspectives to them?

A: I’m a huge communicator, so improving character communication is something I love to do. I like to create fluff, and this change lets me focus on the gentler parts of Sirius and Remus, or the parts that need some love, e.g. mental health. It also lets me flesh out their senses of humor more, like their dislike of cats (in my headcanons).

Q: What does diversity mean to you? What does that encompass in fanish spaces?

A: Diversity means celebration. So in fan spaces, that means actively seeking out creators that you might otherwise miss. It means trying out new perspectives, or listening to new perspectives on your favorite characters. It means standing with your peers, being loud in your love and support of them. I’m not saying you have to reblog or comment on everything. Diversity is not just visual, it’s also mental. Diversity needs to be intentional and active, even if that takes place just in your head.

Q: What are your ideas about the notions of culture and ethnicity? How do you relate to those notions?

A: I find culture and ethnicity to overlap in many ways, as they both pertain to group characteristics. I’m not an anthropologist, so I don’t know the detailed differences between the two. However, in my quick searches, it feels, to me, that culture is a bit broader and ethnicity is more geographic. So, I’m culturally Indian-American and ethnically Gujarati Indian (Gujarat is the state in India). I find these notions to be helpful when defining and describing my experiences. For example, among desis (and other brown folks), saying I’m generation 1.5/2 tells them that I straddle American/Western and Indian culture. If I tell another Indian that I’m Gujarati, they instantly know the kind of foods I grew up with and the language my parents speak. It’s a streamlined way of explaining my experiences, and as a science brained person, it makes life easier for me.

Q: Is there a page/organization/institution you would recommend for fans to search/read when it comes to learning about diversity?

A: With the tool that is social media, there are so many activists and creators that are willing and able to teach about diversity. On my page, I keep a page titled, “Resources for Justice.” This page has a wide variety of social justice resources on it. Google is great, but you also want to cross-check your sources. However, I feel like the best way to learn is to ask questions. Do so respectfully and ensure the person you’re asking has the energy/time/compensation to answer. Especially if you’ve done some research ahead of time, I find that many folks are willing to have a discussion - but again, check with the person first. Trust is paramount in these conversations.

Q: Is there a project/organization that you want to hype?

A: Oh, I could name so many. However, the ones I want to shout out here are Chrysalis - Gender Identity Matters and Raze Collective. As many of you know, Jay @siriussly-serious passed away recently, and in his name, we’re promoting/donating to these charities. Chrysalis - GIM offers online and in-person mental health support for trans and nonbinary people in his area and Raze Collective supports LGBTQIA+ performers. Ami @ami-acts and a few others (I apologize for not remembering exactly who - I’ll message the mods if I remember/please add on if you know) organized this. Links are below.

Donate to Chrysalis - GIM here.

Donate to Raze Collective here.

Q: Leave us with a quote or work of art that always inspires you

A: Is it too cheesy to say all of our fandom? To be totally honest, that’s who/what inspires me most of all. It’s a work of art, all the people in it make our fandom a work of art!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

and the stars (they all aligned)

Fandom: Sex Education Pairing: Ola Nyman/Lily Iglehart Rating: E Word Count: 3887

Summary: Ola knows there's more to outer space than aliens with penis-fingers, and from their spot on the hill, gazing up at the night sky with Lily, it's never felt closer. They've never felt closer.

“Life can get small, you know?” Ola says sadly. The gravity inside her body still feels a little off, like her heart’s bobbing around, unsure whether to float or land. She’s sad, she’s elated, she’s aching for her mum, she’s grateful to have her girlfriend next to her on the grass.

“Like when I stopped writing my stories,” Lily suggests, frowning thoughtfully under her silvery makeup.

“Yeah. But the stars are so beautiful out here. I feel like, if I laid down and just looked straight up… blocked out the people and the lights from the houses… I could see really far into space.”

“You are seeing far into space, with some of these.” Lily points a pale, precise finger up above them. “The light’s coming from such a long way away that you’re basically traveling in time. And that’s real,” she quickly emphasizes, “not science fiction.”

Ola smiles widely.

“Cool.”

The other spectators are beginning to walk back to their cars and homes, but Lily and Ola lie back on the plaid blanket. Lily’s arm pulls her gently closer until Ola’s resting her head on her girlfriend’s chest. Just when it seems that the star shower has ended, another lone light flies past.

“They’re meteors, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Lily says, but Ola can tell she’s held something back.

“If you want to say what you imagine them to be,” she prompts, “I’m here to listen.”

“Aliens,” Lily blurts, given permission, but then she adds: “Or angels.”

Ola lies very still for a minute, breathing, feeling the plasticky pink stripes on her girlfriend’s outfit pull on her cheek a little when she repositions her head.

“Angels?”

“Well, this was your mum’s favourite place,” Lily says, straightforward and unflinching, the way she explains everything that can’t possibly be real. “So maybe angels. Cosmic angels who ice skate on Jupiter’s frozen moon, Europa.”

“Aww, that’s lovely.”

“And hump the rings of Saturn.”

“That’s not really how I’d like to picture my mum’s spirit.”

“Sorry,” Lily says. Ola can hear the wince in her voice and gives her waist a quick squeeze to show she isn’t upset. “The cosmic angels could also be juggling moon rocks.”

“Tanning on planets that orbit three suns.”

“Riding spiral galaxies around like a carousel!”

“And when we see shooting stars,” Ola says with a smile, “they’re surfing.”

“Yes, I think that’s right,” Lily agrees, sighing contentedly beneath her. “You know—” She taps the nape of Ola’s neck like Ola’s seen her tap her desk when she’s writing and pauses to consider the next turn her intergalactic saga will take. “—you’ve got a really good imagination.”

Delighted, Ola lifts her head and smiles at her girlfriend.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“So do I,” Lily says while Ola nods, “but maybe I use it too much? If I’d been better at living in reality, you wouldn’t have gotten sick of me.”

Ola frowns. She’s big on showing affection through physical contact and instinct tells her to brush Lily’s hair back from her face or something, but it’s too slicked down tonight, the silky length of it twirled into a magnificent pair of space buns, wound through with metallic thread. Her girlfriend is so creative, and so many beautiful things come from her brain. Ola hates that Hope, their classmates, and even her made Lily believe her ideas and the way she expresses them aren’t valuable.

“Lily. I was never sick of you.” She reaches to adjust the gleaming pleather collar of Lily’s outfit, then leans down to nuzzle her nose against Lily’s. “And I never want you to use your imagination less, or try to turn it off, or anything like that. The answer might even be to use it more.”

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Ola drops her head onto her girlfriend’s chest again, hugging into her side as a chatting couple wheel a stroller up the hill past them. She thinks of the new baby while Lily mulls over what she’s said. Joy. They’ll have to sedate her dad if they want him out of the hospital tonight while that tiny girl slumbers there. Joy will learn, when she’s older, what a good dad she had from the very beginning—watching over Joy and giving Ola, well, space. She stares up at the sparkling scatter of stars.

“Because there are other ways for us to enjoy having sex,” Lily says a few minutes later, no preamble.

Ola nods, face shushing across her girlfriend’s costume.

“We’ve done so much together already, but I’m sure there’s loads we haven’t explored.” She shrugs. “I might never have tried any sort of alien roleplay if I hadn’t met you, and you come up with new things you want to try all the time. You inspire yourself, through your writing, and I think that’s amazing.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Ola says confidently. “I do.”

“Your mom must have loved you really well,” Lily murmurs, “because you love really well too.”

Ola is a box. A clear, plastic box with a hatch where her heart is. She is an incubator, like Joy’s, housing a very fragile thing, and Lily has reached inside to cradle that thing in her careful hands. Ola sniffs and the stars smudge into a big, messy glow up above. She blinks fast as her eyes brim.

“She did.”

“I wouldn’t want to be abducted without you.”

Ola laughs wetly.

“Thanks, Lil.”

Lily speaks some more, but it’s not to her. She mumbles and traces lines up and down the sleeve of Ola’s green jacket. Ola can tell she’s thinking out loud; the words ‘pulsing’ and ‘Glenoxi’ and ‘penis-fingers’ hum in the air over their heads. She’s prepared to flip off anyone who looks at her girlfriend strangely, but the final stragglers march by in their own wild costumes, dragging signs with hopeful and blatantly sexual pleas. Huh. Some of these really are Lily’s people.

Once they’re alone on the hill, Ola sighs and rolls fully onto her back, head on Lily’s oversized round belt buckle as she lies perpendicular to her girlfriend. She kicks her legs out, feet apart, and folds her hands over her stomach. Lily’s fingers creep over and toy with her rainbow pin. Smiling at the warmth of her girlfriend’s hand through her jacket, Ola’s finally ready to do what she said before: block out everything else and look up.

The dark is comforting and lovely. When she relaxes the muscles in her face, lets her gaze go unfocused and fuzzy, all of that celestial light becomes a soft background for her thoughts and feelings. She imagines that she (and Lily, of course) are someplace else, far from this hill and the wonderful, painful complexities of their lives. Would she be able to see Earth? She supposes that she would, diving back through her memories to her childhood treehouse, the telescope her dad hauled up there for her and her sister. Ser du det, Ola? Det är planeten Venus. She’d forgotten about that clunky old telescope.

From a distance, Earth would twinkle too, reflecting the light of the sun. Magic. There are so many incredible things, Ola thinks, that are true. Facts that inspire fiction, and are in some cases more wonderful than anything most people could make up.

She rolls onto her stomach, propped up by her elbows.

“I’ve… had a thought,” Ola says, gaze sweeping up Lily’s torso to her face, where wide eyes swivel to stare back at her.

“About what?”

Ola stretches a hand out to trace her girlfriend’s upturned nose with a fingertip.

“Something we could do,” she says slyly. She brings her finger down to cover Lily’s lips and Lily bites the end with faux-ferocity.

“Here?”

Ola nods, grinning.

Eagerly, Lily sits up.

“Well, tell me,” she says.

“We’re going to go on a journey,” Ola informs her. Lily smiles reservedly, waiting for more. “And you can narrate.”

“Where are we going?”

“Space.”

Lily glances from side to side, at the hilltop that’s darker now everyone’s left with their torches and camera flashes and glow-in-the-dark clothes. Only their candle remains.

“Where are we really going?”

“Nowhere, technically,” Ola says, scrunching her nose. “We’ll do it right here.”

“Ok,” says Lily gamely. “What is it we’re doing?”

Pushing up onto her hands and knees, Ola leans forward to kiss her. It’s quick, but when it’s over and her girlfriend inhales like she’s going to ask another question, Ola kisses her again, smiling against her lips. Sometimes doing is better than explaining.

Lily’s hand raises and cups her cheek. It’s when Ola feels the other hand curl around the back of her neck and flex as Lily presses more enthusiastically into the kiss that she knows she’s got it, she’s understood. They kiss faster and Ola’s hands skitter across Lily’s belt, searching for a piece to undo until she realizes its overlapping ends Velcro together in the back, hidden by the cape. The ripping sound of the strips unfastening makes them both laugh. Ola lays the belt out on the blanket before planting one hand on her girlfriend’s far side, bracketing her as she reclines slightly onto her elbows and they continue to kiss.

Lily’s cape is designed like a vest, with holes for her arms to go through. Ola tugs at one, then accepts that she won’t be able to get it off over the massive, padded shoulder spike on Lily’s bodysuit. Not without help.

“You won’t be too cold, will you?” she checks, sitting back to allow Lily to maneuver out of her cape.

“Not yet.”

“And if I want to take this off as well?” Ola asks coyly, sliding her hands along her girlfriend’s outfit, up from the waist to knead Lily’s breasts through the quilted fabric.

Lily smiles back and tips her chin up, encouraging the deep kiss Ola sinks into, already feeling her arousal climbing with the anticipation of trying out this new idea. Maybe she should have found a way to talk to Lily about introducing some variety sooner, because it’s been a while since she felt this level of excitement for sex. She always enjoys herself, but it has been a little hard, acting out one of Lily’s fantasies after another without ever taking the lead herself. Hopefully, tonight establishes a revised balance in this area of their relationship—a fusion that’s partly Lily, partly Ola.

Locating the zipper at the back of Lily’s costume, Ola pulls back.

“This is ok, right?” she asks, because Lily never said out loud that she wouldn’t be cold.

“I think so,” her girlfriend says. She looks down. “I can snuggle into the blanket as well, don’t forget.”

Ola scans their surroundings.

“And there isn’t anyone around,” she says, grinning. Could she be into the idea of getting caught? She’s never considered it before! Not actually caught, of course, because she very much wants to keep this about the two of them, but there’s a thrill surrounding the possibility that Ola didn’t expect.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” Lily counts down. “Ignition.” She holds Ola’s gaze and lifts her eyebrows, some sort of a cue.

“Oh, got it,” Ola says, beginning to unzip the silvery bodysuit.

Arms wrapped around her girlfriend from the front, her hands slide down as she exposes Lily’s skin to the air. She can tell through the material that there isn’t anything underneath it—no lines, no ridges but her spine, her shoulder blades—so when the zipper hits the end of its track at Lily’s lower back and Lily peels the front of the outfit down, Ola isn’t surprised to be confronted with her girlfriend’s bare breasts.

The shinier segment of the costume winds up being a sort of torso-less shirt—the sleeves connecting to the high collar that encircles Lily’s neck. That part stays on as Lily wiggles and hops, getting the sleeveless bodysuit over her hips and bum, and Ola sees that the shiny leggings are separate as well.

“This is really cool,” she notes.

“Thanks,” Lily says, working the bodysuit off over her nearly-knee-high boots. “The cape…?” she wonders when she’s done.

“You can put that back on.”

“And you want me to talk?”

“Yes please. Just not about aliens,” Ola adds, watching her girlfriend’s expression cautiously for signs of hurt.

But Lily’s face is open, unoffended. She shrugs into her cape.

“Alright.”

“I mean, if you find you have anything you want to say,” Ola clarifies. She smirks as she slips her hand between Lily’s thighs, cupping her and rubbing a bit through the leggings.

“I think the ship—the normal, regular Earth spaceship,” Lily clarifies, breathing slightly unevenly, “—is monitoring a disturbance. A buildup of energy.”

“Oh?”

Ola smiles wider, then bends over her girlfriend, running her mouth along her skin below where her sleeve-top conceals her collarbones. Gradually, Lily lies back. As Ola hoped she would, Lily narrates, easily spinning a science-fiction story that’s heavy on the science for once. Ola kisses back up her throat as Lily’s high voice speaks clearly of stellar nurseries, dense with dust and gas. In spite of her flowing words and dreamy descriptions, the actual subject matter doesn’t sound that nice to Ola, until Lily announces the mission of this particular spaceship. (“Mmm?” Ola asks wordlessly, kissing below Lily’s jaw; Lily nods to acknowledge that Ola’s mouth will indeed be playing the role of the spaceship in this scenario.) It’s closing in on this cloud of stellar stuff in search of the new star that’s about to be born.

“Passing between huge planets,” Lily says, while Ola hunches hungrily over her body and kisses down between her breasts. “Gas giants. Jupiter, maybe.”

Ola nearly starts laughing when Lily confirms one of the planets to be Jupiter by the fact of ‘the ship’ spying its Great Red Spot—Ola’s focused in on Lily’s nipple, dragging it tenderly between her teeth before sucking to deepen the colour; with the blue of the night, that’s closer to purple than Lily’s normal rosy pink.

She keeps going and so does Lily, infusing every lick and tug with the richness of her imagination, as well as actual knowledge of the solar system, about which she seems to know quite a lot. For a risky, romantic hookup under no roof but the sky, it’s rather educational.

The minute Lily’s bent knees go flat as she straightens to her full length, Ola swings a leg over to hover above her. She redoubles her attention to her girlfriend’s breasts and caresses her hands swiftly up Lily’s sides. Lily shivers and Ola thinks it’s the cold getting to her after all, but when she raises her head to check in, Lily’s eyelids are drooping with pleasure. So Ola continues to touch her. And Lily continues to unravel their tale.

She recounts the rushing of a meteor shower as smoothly as if she was up there when it happened, half an hour ago. Ola matches her pace with her mouth, skimming kisses down her ribcage. Lily’s imagination turns her own bellybutton into the deep crater of a moon which the ship sets down to explore. (Lily is very kinky about her bellybutton being probed by Ola’s tongue, and Ola’s not going to leave that out, even if they are going in a different direction than usual.)

Progressing, Ola hooks her fingers into the waist of Lily’s leggings and, undistracted, Lily makes the story sound like something she’s reading out of a book—the spaceship setting a course that will take it beyond the most distant line humankind has ever drawn in the universe, farther than it’s ever been before. For Ola, touching Lily below her navel is far from uncharted territory. And yet, she’s sort of enjoying the dramatics.

Lily keeps the story fertile with details another storyteller would make dull (spaceship maintenance, the sleep schedule of the crew), but which grow like lush, otherworldly flora coming from her. The human interest side of things accompanies Ola’s descent as she strips the leggings down. Although they only get as far as the top of Lily’s boots, the leggings are stretchy enough to let her girlfriend part her knees so Ola can kiss lower.

A little lower.

Barely.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ola says with a laugh, raising an apologetic hand to interrupt her girlfriend.

“I do think I might be cold if I take everything off completely.”

“Well… hmm…”

While Ola’s still appraising the situation, Lily’s face lights up with epiphany. Legs locked stiffly together, she raises them into the air. Ola climbs off of her to see what she’s up to.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to stay like that?” Ola questions, watching her girlfriend’s legs waver at a 45-degree angle to the ground.

“I won’t need to if you crawl underneath!”

Thank goodness Lily isn’t shy with her. Instead, it’s funny for them both when Ola moves down to lie on her stomach. Lily parts her legs enough to hook the half-lowered leggings behind Ola’s head, Ola’s face poking between her thighs. Lily lowers her legs back down until they rest on Ola’s shoulders and, basically, they’re in business. Holding happily to the top of her girlfriend’s naked thighs, Ola peruses Lily’s body admiringly before ducking her head.

“The nebula,” her girlfriend breathes, as Ola’s kisses near the soft nest of Lily’s pubic hair. The boundary’s been made unnatural by the squiggly shape Lily’s attempted to shave into it (something Ola might have called silly before her resolution of open-mindedness), and Lily uses that as fuel for the plot, making the spaceship’s journey treacherous, full of objects to navigate around. In reality, Ola pecks a straight line down to Lily’s cunt. Honestly, she’s relieved at the extra evidence—beyond Lily’s expression, her readiness to undress out-of-doors, and the quick pants that’ve become part of her breathing pattern—that Lily’s into this.

Ola wraps her arms farther around the top of Lily’s thighs until she’s able to brush her fingers between them, thumbing her girlfriend’s labia apart. Gosh, they haven’t done this in weeks, which is ages for them. The last vulva Ola saw was iced onto the top of a cupcake.

With Lily held open, Ola licks deftly between her legs with the tip of her tongue. Her girlfriend’s voice trembles. When Ola’s worked her way inward until she’s ringing just inside Lily’s vagina, Lily’s hand comes down and lands on the top of her head. She doesn’t really want it there though, isn’t being forceful. Ola understands this reaction, a common one from her girlfriend when she’s being eaten out, and frees one hand, blindly offering it up. Lily links their fingers together. Their joined hands fall next to her hip.

“Closer,” Lily gasps, arousal seeping slowly over and under Ola’s tongue. Her other hand slips down Ola’s neck and into the back of her top where she’s warm, almost sweaty, with the heat of being turned on. “They’re getting closer to the star.”

The commitment to the story, every time, is something Ola loves about her.

And so she indulges her girlfriend, sliding her tongue higher, easing a finger into Lily’s vagina to perform an unhurried in-and-out while her mouth closes in on her clitoris. Ola’s own clit is desperate for a fingering, blood pumping strongly towards her groin inside her baggy jeans, but she can wait, get Lily off first. Whenever they pleasure each other in that order, Lily always comes alive after, flipping Ola onto her back and smothering her in enthusiastic kisses and caresses.

Picturing this as the likely near-future, Ola hums blissfully against Lily’s clit (Lily squirms and lets out one of her moans that sound like a ghostly wail—yeah, Ola kind of loves those too). She closes her eyes to intensify the sensations and does the rest by familiar feel.

Her girlfriend babbles now, about the spaceship orbiting the new star that’s forming while Ola teasingly orbits her clit with her tongue. It takes a lot of effort to separate Lily from one of her stories when she’s on a roll, but broad, firm licks to her clit are enough to pull even Ola’s one-foot-in-outer-space girlfriend into the present moment.

“Oh god, Ola, I can almost see the cosmic angels,” Lily whines, striving exquisitely towards climax. “I’m going to see cosmic angels.”

Ola believes her. She believed this hill was special, she will believe in aliens, and right now she believes that Lily’s imminent orgasm looks like a flock of cosmic angels behind her eyelids. Sure. Why not? Her hand clasps harder to her girlfriend’s. She doesn’t care that Lily’s rerouted to the fantastical right at the end. They’re real. The elements that got them here are real: Lily’s storytelling, Ola’s desire to feel close to her in a world that wasn’t only Lily’s, loneliness, love.

Without speaking very loudly, Ola knows her voice will carry to her girlfriend’s ears—this evening, silver and pointed.

“Glenoxi,” she groans rapturously against Lily’s clit.

Lily’s hips buck once, then her body buckles, fingers twisting with Ola’s. Her voice rises brokenly into the night and Ola is on fire with how much she wants her.

Ola wipes her mouth on the blanket while Lily catches her breath. She quit moving her finger when her girlfriend clenched around it and came, but now she begins to hook it shallowly inside Lily’s sopping channel, coaxing her.

“You wanna again?” Ola asks, grinning between planting gentle kisses on Lily’s inner thigh.

“Yes,” Lily sighs. She twitches their joined hands. “But come up here beside me so I can take your jeans off. I want—”

There’s a snapping sound and Ola jerks her head up as much as she can in her current position. Under a hundred feet from them, someone’s standing, raising the chunky green glowstick they must’ve just found, dropped in the grass by an Eighth attendee, and cracked. The person turns, looks their way. Freezes. They won’t be able to see everything in the dark. Not everything, but enough. Ola hears a noise of surprise.

“Um,” she says, thinking quickly. Louder, she calls to the accidental intruder: “The aliens just beamed down this human woman! Quick! Go find a scientist!”

The person spins and runs in the opposite direction, back over the crest of the hill.

Ola looks down at Lily, who stares curiously back.

“Do you think they’ve gone to find a scientist?”

“No,” Ola yelps giddily, “I think they’ve gone to call the police because they’ve just seen two people fucking on a public hillside.”

“Are you sure they’ll think that? Your cover was rather good.”

“Thanks,” Ola says, extricating herself from between her girlfriend’s legs, “but yes! We’ve got to go!”

They scramble to their feet, Lily yanking her leggings back up. There isn’t time to fuss with the rest of her costume, so she snatches it up, clutching it to her chest along with the sign she brought. Once Ola’s grabbed their candle and gathered the blanket into a sloppy bundle in her arms, they sprint for the road and onward to Lily’s house.

The glow of the candle and Lily’s cape, reflecting it, are streaks of light in the black.

A blaze of brightness and joy. Their own two-person audience of believers.